báck, by putting stones behind them; and she said, "This is called, scòlching the wheels."

When she thought that the children knew how to manage by themselvés, she left them, and returned to her spinning-wheel.

A great many carriages | happened to go by, this day; and the little girl received a great many half-pence: she carried them all. in her brother's hat, to her grandmother, in the evening; and the old woman smiled, and thanked the children. She said that they had been useful to her, and that her spinning had gone on finely, because she had been able to sit still at her wheel all day. "But Paul, my | boy," said she, "what is the matter with your hànd?”

"Only a pinch, only ône pinch | that I got, as I was putting a stone behind the wheel of a chaise. It does not hurt me much, grandmother; and I've thought of a good thing for to-morrow. I shall never be hurt again, if you will only be so good as to give me the old handle of the broken crùtch, grandmother, and the block of wood that lies in the chimneycorner, and is of no use. I'll make it of some

use, if I may have it."*

*Sentences that end with a clause depending on if, or any conditional form of expression, not unfrequently end with the rising slide.

"Take it, then, dear," said the old woman, "and you'll find the handle of the broken crutch under my bed."

Paul went to work immediately, and fastened one end of the pole into the block of wood, so as to make something like a dry rubbing brush. "Look! grandmamma, look at my scotcher. I call this thing my scotcher," said Paul, "because I shall always scotch the wheels with it. I shall never pinch my fingers again; my hands, you see, will be safe | at the end of this long stìck; and, sister Anne, you need not be at the trouble of carrying up stones, any more; my scotcher will do, without anything else, I hope. I wish it was mòrning, and that a càrriage would come, that I might run up the hill, and try my scotcher."

"And I wish that as many chaises may go by to-morrow, as there did to-day; and that we may bring you as many half-pence, too, grandmother," said the little girl.

"So do I, my dear Anne," said the old woman; "for I mean that you and your brother | shall have all the money that you get, tomorrow. You may buy some gingerbread for yourselves, or some of those ripe plùms, that you saw at the fruit-stall, the other day, when

you were going into the town. I told you thén, that I could not afford to buy such things for you; but now, that you can earn money for yourselves, children, it is fair you should taste a ripe plum, and a bit of gingerbread, for once in your lives."

"We'll bring some of the gingerbread home to her, shall we not, brother?" whispered little Anne.

The morning càme; but no carriages were heàrd, though Paul and his sister had risen at five o'clock, that they might be sure to be ready for early travellers. Paul kept his scotcher upon his shoulder, and watched eagerly at the bottom of the hill, till a carriage did come; and the moment the driver called to him, and bid him stop the wheels, he put his scotcher behind them, and found that it answered the purpose very well.

Many carriages went by, this day; and Paul and Anne received a great many half-pence, from the travellers.

*In the tone of questions marked by peculiar interest or earnestness, the falling inflection takes the place of the rising. 14*

LESSON LI.

CASABIANCA.*

THE boy stood on the burning dèck,
Whence all but him had flèd;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him | o'er the déad ;

Yet beautiful and brìght he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though child-like form.

The flames roll'd òn-he would not gò,
Without his father's wòrd;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud, "Sày, father, sày,
If yèt my task be done?"

He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.

* In a great naval battle, young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the commander of the French ship Orient, had been charged, by his father, to continue at his post, till called away by himself. The father was mortally wounded, in the early part of the battle. But, in the confusion of the scene, the son was not aware of the fact; and, with devoted, filial obedience, remained at his station, after the ship had taken fire, and the guns had all been abandoned.

The flames at last reached the powder; and the noble boy, who "would not go, without his father's word," perished in the explosion.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving háir,

And look'd from that lone post of death,

In still, yet brève despair,

And shouted but once more aloud,

"My father! must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.'

They wrapt the ship in splendour wìld,

They caught the flág on high,

And streamed above the gallant child,

Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound,
The Boy-Oh! where was he?

Ask of the winds, that far around
With fragments strewed the sea,

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their párt,-

But the noblest thing that perished there,
Was that young | faithful heart.