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MEDDLESOME MATTY.

Which, like a cloud before the skies',
Hid all her better qualities.

Sometimes she'd lift the tea-pot lid',
To peep at what was in it';
Or tilt the kettle, if you did'
But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch'-
Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandmamma went out one day',
And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuff-box gay'
Too near the little maid';

Ah! well, thought she', I'll try them on'
As soon as grandmamma is gone.

Forthwith she placed upon her nose
The glasses, large and wide':
And looking round', as I suppose',
The snuff-box too she spied.
O what a pretty box is this-
I'll open it, said little miss.

I know that grandmamma would say',
Don't meddle with it', dear':
But then, she's far enough away',
And no one else is near`;
Beside, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this'?

So thumb and finger went to work
To move the stubborn lid`;
And, presently, a mighty jerk
The mighty mischief did`;
For all at once', ah! woful case',
The snuff came puffing in her face!

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Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth and chin',
A dismal sight presented';
And as the snuff got further in',
Sincerely she repented.

In vain she ran about for ease-
She could do nothing else but sneeze!

She dashed the spectacles away',
To wipe her tingling eyes`;
And as in twenty bits they lay',
Her grandmamma she spies.
Hey day! and what's the matter now'?
Cried grandmamma' with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain',
And tingling still and sore',
Made many a promise to refrain
From meddling evermore`;
And 'tis a fact', as I have heard',
She ever since has kept her word.

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ROBIN', robin', sing to me',
And I'll gladly suffer thee'
Thus to breakfast in the tree',
On the ruddy cherry.

Soon as thou hast swallowed it,
How I love to see thee flit'
To another twig, and sit'
Singing there so merry!

It was kind in thee to fly'
Near my window; and to try'
There to raise thy notes so high',
As to break my slumbers.
Robin', half the cheering power
Of this bright and lovely hour',
While I pluck the dewy flower',

Comes from thy sweet numbers.

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And thou wast an honest bird',
Thus to let thy voice be heard',
Asking, in the plainest word'

Thou could'st utter', whether'
Those, who owned it, would allow'
Thee to take upon the bough'
Thy repast', and sit, as now',
Smoothing down thy feathers.

Who, that hears the mellow note'
From my robin's little throat'
On the air of morning float',
Could desire to still her'?
Who her beauty can behold,
And consent to have it told'
That he had a heart so cold',
As to try to kill her'?

LESSON XXV.

A MORNING IN SPRING. 3

"How now,

little Ned',

Not yet out of bed'?

Why, the Sun has been shining two hours'; In the garden I've been',

"T is a beautiful scenè,

And have gather'd this nosegay of flowers.

"I think you are wrong
To lie dozing so long';

For so early our bed-time they fix',

After ten hours' rest',

It is certainly best

For us both to be stirring at six.

THE DECEITFUL TONGUE.

Come hither and see
The sweet busy beé,

And hear the birds merrily sing';

All the flow'rets smell sweet';
O, how many things meet'
To make lovely a morning in spring!"

LESSON XXVI.

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THE DECEITFUL TONGUE.

I ONE day heard a conversation between two little girls who were knitting at a cottage door, and the one seemed to be entertaining the other with some little histories of their neighbors and companions. At length some person was mentioned by the first speaker, and many charges were brought against her for idleness, deceit, and other faults common to children.

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Mary is not such a girl as you say she is, Susan'," replied the other little girl`; "she has some faults, indeed, but you make her out to be ten times worse than she is`; has she offended you'; do you not love her' ?" "I love her very well, Jané," replied the one who was called Susan'; "she has never offended mè; why should I not love her'?" "Then," replied the other', "if you do not hate her now, you will hate her very sōōn."

"Because

"And why so'," returned the other. you speak ill of her when she does not deserve it'; and it is written, "A lying tongue hateth those that are afflicted by it." Prov. xxvi. 28. "Who taught you that, Jané," said Susan. "The minister'," replied the little girl'; "and I think it is very truè, for I know this much of myself", that whenever I

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