Miller. Come, come, sir, confess; you have shot one of the king's deer, haven't you ?

King. No, indeed; I owe the king more respect. I heard the report of a gun, to be sure, and was afraid some robbers might have been near.

Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray, who are you? What's your name?

King. Name?

Miller. Name! ay, name. You have a name, haven't you? Whence do you come? What is your business here?

King. These are questions I have not been used to, honest man.

Miller. May be so; but they are questions no honest man would be afraid to answer; so, if you can give no better account of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along with me, if you please.

King. With you? What authority have you

to

Miller. The king's authority: if I must give you an account. Sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one of his majesty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood, and I will let no suspicious fellow pass this way, unless he can give a better account of himself than you have done, I promise you.

King. Very well, sir; I am very glad to hear the king has so good an officer; and, since I find you have his authority, I will give you a better account of myself, if you will do me the favour to hear it.

Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe; but let me hear what you can say for yourself.

King. I have the honour to belong to the king as well as you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, and the chase leading us to-day a great way from home, I am benighted in this wood, and have lost my way.

Miller. This does not sound well if you have been a-hunting, pray where is your horse?

King. I have tired my horse, so that he lay down under me, and I was obliged to leave him. Miller. If I thought I might believe this now! King. I am not accustomed to lie, honest man. Miller. What, do you live at court, and not lie? Ha, ha, ha! That's a likely story, indeed!

King. Be that as it may, I speak truth now, I assure you; and to convince you of it, if you will attend me to Nottingham, or give me a night's lodging in your house, here is something to pay you for your trouble; and, if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morning to your utmost desire.

Miller. Ay, now I am convinced you are a courtier; here is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise for to-morrow, both in a breath. Here, take it again; John Cockle is no courtier. He can do what he ought without a bribe.

King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must confess, and I should be glad, methinks, to be further acquainted with thee.

Miller. I pray thee, don't thee and thou me
I suppose I am as good a man as your-

this rate.

self at least.

King. Sir, I beg pardon.

Miller. Nay, I am not angry, friend; only I don't love to be too familiar with you, until I am satisfied as to your honesty.

King. You are right.

But what am I to do? Miller. You may do what you please. You are twelve miles from Nottingham, and all the way through this thick wood; but, if you are resolved upon going thither to-night, I will put you in the road and direct you the best I can; or, if you will accept of such poor entertainment as a miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay all night, and in the morning I will go with you myself.

King. And cannot you go with me to-night? Miller. I would not go with you to-night, if you were the king himself.

King. Then I must go with you, I think. Courtier. Ah! is your majesty safe? We have hunted the forest over to find you.

Miller. How are you the king? Your majesty will pardon the ill usage you have received. (The king draws his sword.) His majesty surely will not kill a servant for doing his duty too faithfully?

King. No, my good fellow. So far from having anything to pardon, I am much your debtor. I cannot think but so good and honest a man will make a worthy and honourable knight. Rise,

SIR JOHN COCKLE; and receive this sword as a badge of knighthood, and a pledge of my protection; and to support your nobility, and in some measure requite you for the pleasure you have done us, a thousand crowns a year shall be your revenue.—Doddridge.

LEARN:

At'-tri-butes, features of character, | Re'-ven-ue, income, the term is usually

qualities, dispositions.

Be-night'-ed, involved in darkness, overtaken by night.

Bribe, a reward for corrupting a person's conduct, the price paid or promised for consenting to do a wrong or dishonourable

act.

applied to the income of a state or country. Knight'-hood, the rank of honour conferred by the sovereign, giving the receiver the right to prefix the title "Sir" to his Christian

name.

WRITE FROM DICTATION :

1. Except a living man, there is nothing more wonderful than a book !-a message to us from the deadfrom human souls whom we never saw, who lived perhaps thousands of miles away; and yet these, in those little sheets of paper, speak to us, amuse us, terrify us, teach us, comfort us, and open their hearts to us as brothers.

2. Through hedge-row leaves, in drifted heaps
Left by the stormy blast,

The little hopeful blossom peeps,

And tells of winter past;

A few leaves flutter from the woods

That hung the season through,

Leaving their place for swelling buds
To spread their leaves anew.

THE beaver inhabits the most solitary parts of North America; it is also found in Norway and Siberia. Beavers have long been celebrated for the construction of curious edifices, to which they retire in winter.

The situations chosen are various where the beavers are numerous. They tenant lakes, rivers, and creeks, especially the two latter, for the sake of the current, of which they avail themselves in the transportation of materials. They also choose such parts as have a depth of water beyond the freezing power to congeal at the bottom. In small rivers or creeks in which the water is liable to be