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round the sheep's necks; and as he soared in the air

he sang:

'Ding, dong, ding;

Can ye tell

Where's my bell?

Rich are you,

Ram or ewe,

Whosoe'er that bell may ring.'

On hearing these strange words, Fritz said to himself: 'If he likes the music of the sheep's bells, I wonder what he would say to my silver bell.' made it tinkle its pretty little music.

And hereupon he
The bird immedi-

ately disappeared behind a bush, and stepped forth as an aged crone, who came and asked Fritz if he would sell his little bell, as she wanted to amuse her grandchild. But Fritz said he could not part with it, for his sheep obeyed its call, and, besides, he liked its pleasant sound. She then offered him a handful of gold; but as he truly said: 'Gold has not half so sweet a sound!' The old woman then shewed him a white staff, curiously carved with the figures of our first parents tending their flocks in Eden, and said: 'I will give you this staff in exchange for your bell, and so long as you drive your flocks with it, so long will your lambs be fatter four weeks sooner than anybody else's, and each of your sheep will yield two pounds more wool than other people's sheep.' Fritz liked the notion of such a staff, and without more ado, he struck the bargain, and gave up the bell, when the old dame melted away like a cloud of mist.

And a good bargain indeed it proved. Every season added to Fritz's wealth, and in a few years he became the richest farmer in Rügen, and purchased the manor at Grabitz, which conferred nobility upon him; and he

brought up his sons and daughters as young gentlemen and ladies. And better still, he was looked up to as the best and wisest man throughout the land. So that he had good reason to congratulate himself that he had not grasped at too much, like his brother, but had rather followed the prudent example set him by his father.

[Write from dictation]

How fortunate it is that we are obliged to depend on our own exertions in these days; and while we have nothing to dread, on the one hand, from disagreeable, mischievous elves, are not likely, on the other, to have the gratification of wealth conferred on us without having done anything to earn it. The proprietors of elfin ploughs, at the present time, are those possessed of excessively active and prudent habits, and they may congratulate themselves on turning their crops into gold without fairy help.



Ye mariners of England,

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved a thousand years

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again,

To match another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.


The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.


Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak,

She quells the floods below,

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.


The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean warriors!

Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow :
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

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My banks they are furnished with bees,
Whose murmur invites one to sleep;
My grottos are shaded with trees,

And my hills are white over with sheep. I seldom have met with a loss,

Such health do my fountains bestow; My fountains all bordered with moss,

Where the harebells and violets blow.


Not a pine in the grove is there seen,
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;
Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a sweet-brier entwines it around.
Not my fields in the prime of the year,
More charms than my cattle unfold;
Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
But it glitters with fishes of gold.


I have found out a gift for my fair,

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me such plunder forbear,

She will say 'twas a barbarous deed;

'For he ne'er could be true,' she averred,
'Who would rob a poor bird of its young;'
And I loved her the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.



A Tale from Shakspeare, by Charles Lamb.

[Spell and write]

released, imprisoned, mischievous, inherited, laborious, vexatious, threatened, precious, retirement, management, opportunity, innocent, description, injured, delicate, melancholy, appearance, interrupted.

There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of which were an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a very beautiful young lady.

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