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3. But I am not a bird,” said the bat, as he folded his wings close to his sides; “birds don't

' come tumbling down as I did; and besides, don't you see my little, smooth head, and my

ears ? "



Yes, yes,” said the weasel; “I did not notice them at first. I see you are a mouse." So he let him go.

Some time after, the bat took another flight,

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and again fell to the ground; and another weasel came out of his hole and caught him. 5. “Pray don't kill me,” said the bat.

* Certainly I shall,” said the weasel; “I kill mice wherever I find them."

But stop a moment,” said the bat, spreading his wings; "I am not a mouse.

. Don't you see my great wings. A mouse can't fly, can it ?" I beg your pardon,” said the weasel; “I did




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not know you were a bird. I thought you were a mouse. I see I was mistaken ;” and the bat escaped a second time.


The bat is like the mouse in many things; but his hind legs are weak, and his fore legs are very long. The long hands are mere bones, with a thin skin between them. When the bat spreads them out to fly with, they are like two great fans, or like parts of an umbrella.

The bat flies about at night, and hides in dark places in the daytime. Its habits are as unlike those of the mouse as possible.

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his'to ry


quaint win'some

zest knit'ting

knee a' pron

silk'en Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair, Never was lady more sweet and fair. Her gray locks ripple like silver shells; And her own brow its story tells Of a gentle life, a peaceful even, A. trust in God, and a hope in heaven.

Little girl May sits rocking away
In her own low seat like some winsome fay:

Two doll babies her kisses share,
And another one lies by the side of her chair.
May is as fair as the morning dew;
Cheeks of roses, and ribbons of blue.

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“Say, grandmamma,” says the pretty elf, “Tell me a story about yourself. When you were little, what did you play? Were you good or naughty the whole long day? Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago? And what makes your soft hair as white as


“Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss ?
And a dolly like this, and this, and this?
Did you have a pussy like my little Kate?
Did you go to bed when the clock struck eight?
Did you have long curls, and beads like mine?
And a new silk apron with ribbons fine?!

Grandmamma smiled at the little maid,
And, laying aside her knitting, she said,
“Go to my desk, and a red box you'll see;
Carefully lift it and bring it to me.”
So May put her dollies away, and ran,
Saying, “I'll be careful as ever I can."

The grandmamma opened the box, and lo!
A beautiful child, with throat like snow;
Lip just tinted like pink shell rare;
Eyes of hazel, and golden hair;
Hands all dimpled, and teeth like pearls, –
Fairest and sweetest of little girls.


'Oh! who is it?” cried winsome May; “How I do wish she were here to-day! Wouldn't I love her like everything? Wouldn't I with her frolic and sing? Say, dear grandmamma, who can she be?" “Darling,” said grandmamma, “I was she.”' '

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May looked long at the dimpled grace,
And then at the saint-like, fair old face.
How funny!" she cried, with a smile and a

kiss, "To have such a dear little grandma as this; Still,” she added, with smiling zest, I think, dear grandma, I like you best."

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So May climbed up on the silken knee,
And grandmamma told her history,-
What plays she played, what toys she had;
How at times she was naughty, or good, or sad.

“But the best thing you did,” said May, “don't

you see?

Was to grow a beautiful grandma for me.”


The arm-chair was quaint because it was of some odd kind, perhaps the kind they used when the grandmamma was young

“Even” means the same as evening. It means the “close of life" here, just as the evening is the close of the day. The “hope in heaven” means that the grandmamma was looking forward to a more beautiful life than any one could have in this world.

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dis turbed'
sus pect'ed

min'is ters in'no cent ac quaint'ed court'iers

fru gal'ity 1. Medio Pollito, a bantam pullet, by labor and frugality once saved a hundred crowns. The king, who is always in want of money, had no sooner heard of it than he sent to borrow them, and Medio Pollito was proud to lend her money to the king.

2. But there came a bad season when she would have been very glad to have it again. She wrote letter after letter to the king and the ministers,

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