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THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL.

A Fable.

The mountain and the squirrel

Had a quarrel,

And the former called the latter 'Little prig.'

Bun replied:

'You are doubtless very big,

But all sorts of things and weather

Must be taken in together

To make up a year,
And a sphere:

And I think it no disgrace
To occupy my place.

If I am not so large as you,
You are not so small as I,
And not half so spry:
I'll not deny you make

A very pretty squirrel track.

Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.'

AN ADVENTURE WITH ROBBERS.

[Spell and write]

comfortless, frequented, certainly, opposite, traveller, emptied.

A traveller in Mexico, whose name was Taylor, started one morning at sunrise from the cold, comfortless inn where he had slept the night before. A few hours' riding brought him to a small town, where he was glad to

rest himself, and breakfast.

When mounting his horse again, he was asked whether he would not have a guard, as the road he was going was much frequented by robbers; but he refused, either because he was too brave to care for one, or because he thought it was a mere pretence to make him pay for an escort. He rode off, the innkeeper telling him he would certainly be stopped on the road.

travelling a very lonely

He thought how wise The inn he reached at

All that day passed-he was road--but no robbers appeared. he had been to refuse a guard. night was a very bad one-so bad that he could not easily obtain food in it. He started the next morning without breakfast, and rode till he came to a wretched little hut, built of mud. He took what he could find for himself and his horse, and gave the woman a dollar to pay for it; she had no change, and went to a shop opposite to ask for it. Soon she came back, telling him the people in the shop said it was a bad one. He gave her a second, and she came back with the same story. The traveller began to think something was wrong; but he gave her a third, and told her that must do, for he would not give her any more. There were a number of dirty fellows drinking spirits in the shop, and one of them asked Mr Taylor to take a drop; but he refused. The man said something about its being 'the last time,' but the traveller did not heed his remark.

He travelled on for some time; not a creature was to be seen on the road, which lay between two steep hills. So lonely was it, that he thought it would be well to load his pistol. Before he could do this, however, he heard a slight movement in the brushwood by his side. Turning to see what caused it, a double-barrelled musket

met his view, pointed at him, so close and so wellaimed that he could almost look down the barrels. Holding the musket was a fierce-looking man in a pink shirt and white trousers. In a moment, a second was visible on the other side, then a third in front. The attack was so sudden, that he could only throw down his arms as they bade him. The next command was that he should get off his horse; this, too, he did, for, with one unloaded pistol, how could he fight the robbers? They made him lead his horse out of the road, for fear of any passers-by. One of them went back to keep guard. The others, pointing their muskets at their victim, ordered him to lie down on his face. They then took off his coat and waistcoat, and turned his pockets inside out. His purse had very little money in it, at which they were angry. He had been so prudent as only to take enough for his journey, but he had a check on a bank in Mexico. The robbers gave him back his papers, and this check among them.

They next tied his hands behind him; then spreading out a blanket he carried, emptied his bags into it, that they might choose what to take. They took all but letters, books, and papers. They also picked his pockets of some oranges and cigars, but gave him back one of each, saying: Perhaps you may get hungry before night.' They tied all they took up in a blanket, and carried it off, leaving him his horse, fortunately. They then departed, bidding him good-day, and saying how pleased they were to have met with him. He, poor fellow, with his hands tied behind him, felt it anything but pleasant. The first thing was to get rid of the rope; and, after twisting and turning a long time, he contrived to turn his hands round so that he could reach the knots with his teeth-in half

an hour he was free once more. His horse had remained near him. He caught him, mounted, and rode off, seeing as he did so, the three robbers still in the distance. The man in the pink shirt was one of the men he had seen drinking in the shop, and now he knew that calling the dollar a bad one was a trick to see how much he had about him. He galloped on as hard as he could, and reached a town where a good old priest directed him to an honest inn. As he jumped off his poor tired horse, he told the people of the inn he had no money. But they kindly bade him not to mind it; he might stay as long as he liked. They told him, too, that he ought to be very thankful the robbers had not taken his life as well as his money and goods.

[Write from dictation]

The traveller left the comfortless inn, to journey over a road frequented by robbers, and refused an escort. He was met by the way, and his pockets emptied of their contents.

LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE.

1.

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:

And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

2.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,

The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

3.

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

4.

'To-night will be a stormy night-
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, child, to light
Your mother through the snow.'

5.

'That, father, will I gladly do! 'Tis scarcely afternoon

The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!'

6.

At this the father raised his hook,
And snapped a fagot-band;
He plied his work; and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

7.

Not blither is the mountain roe:
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

8.

The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb;
But never reached the town.

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