These Exercises are intended specially for young children.

EXERCISE XIX.

THE MONKEY AND THE SACK OF NUTS.

Within a balcony of state, at ease, and happy beyond measure, a monkey Moderate tone. sat, who had of late become the master of a treasure. Though not, indeed,

of gems or gold (mark! I translate it to the letter), but fresh, sweet nuts, Low tone. which I'll be bold, friend Pug esteemed as something better.

These in a

They

sack he tied with care, for other monkeys by the dozen came floating slower.
round, in hopes to share the rich possessions of their cousin.
thronged beneath, in greedy train, the balcony, where he was seated, but
quickly found 'twas all in vain, they reasoned, menaced, or entreated.
For Pug, however rich in fruit, appeared in bounty greatly lacking, and Louder.
flung, in answer to their suit, the shells of nuts, which he'd been cracking.

At this the suppliants, filled with rage, resolved to sue to him no longer, Loud and quick. but battle now prepared to wage, as they in numbers were the stronger.

The monkey, on this rude attack, although he thought the means expen- Slower,

sive, without ado untied his sack, and turned his nuts to arms offensive.
Pug with these missives aimed his blows so hard and fast, that, in conclu- Quick,
sion, his smarting and be-pelted foes fled off in cowardly confusion.

At length he proudly stood alone, with feelings that of rapture savoured, Slow.
prepared to thank, in joyous tone, Dame Fortune, who his cause had
favoured; that he had from the fierce attack his precious nuts so well
defended; but cast his eyes upon his sack, and saw that they were all
expended! Through these he had maintained his place; and now his foes
had all retreated, he stood precisely in the case as if himself had been slower.
defeated. Thus, oft we see a triumph cost as much as if the day were
lost.-Saturday Magazine.

EXERCISE XX.

THE DEATH OF NELSON.

O'er Nelson's tomb, with silent grief oppress'd, Britannia mourns her Solemn tone. hero now at rest: but those bright laurels ne'er shall fade with years

whose leaves are watered by a Nation's tears.

'Twas in Trafalgar's bay we saw the Frenchmen lay; each heart was Bright and quick. bounding then. We scorn'd the foreign yoke, our ships were British oak, and hearts of oak our men. Our Nelson mark'd them on the wave; three cheers our gallant seamen gave, nor thought of home or beauty: along the line the signal ran:-" England expects, that every man this day will do Slow and modehis duty!"

rate tone.

And now the cannon roar along the affrighted shore,-our Nelson led Loud. the way: his ship the Vict'ry named, long be that vict'ry famed, for vict'ry crowned the day! But dearly was that conquest bought; too well Soft. the gallant hero fought for England, home, and beauty: he cried, as 'midst the fire he ran, “England expects, that every man this day will do Slow. his duty!"

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Very slow and

At last the fatal wound, which spread dismay around, the hero's breast loud. received. "Heaven fights on our side, the day's our own," he cried; Faint. now long enough I've lived; in honour's cause my life was past, in Slower and modehonour's cause I fall at last, for England, home, and beauty." Thus end- rate, ing life as he began, England confess'd, that every man that day had done his duty.-S. J. Arnold.

Moderate tone.
Low and slow.

Higher and slow.

Louder.

Solemn tone.

Brighter.

Loud but slow.

Moderate time.

High tone.

Moderate tone.

High tone.
Moderate,

EXERCISE XXI.

ILLNESS OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.

In December 1871, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, lay smitten by a dreadful fever. For many days the shadow of death seemed to fall across his bed, and, hour by hour, those who stood around expected that the flickering spark of life would be quenched, as had been that of his father -the good Prince Consort-a few years before. Day by day the people of London were in dread expectation that the boom of the great bell of St. Paul's Cathedral would announce that the Prince was dead. Day by day, in every town in Britain, men waited eagerly for the telegrams which told how the fierce struggle between life and death was going on; and as they read the daily messages they seemed to see that sick-bed, and those who watched around it.

Of all the loving watchers, after the Queen-mother herself, there was none to whom all hearts went out in warmer love than to the noble wife of the sick Prince. She was brave and steadfast, scarcely ever leaving his bedside. On that memorable Sabbath-day, when prayer was made for him in all the churches of the land, the Princess stole away for a brief space to church, and sent a simple and touching request to the clergyman that, as she could not stay for the whole service, a prayer might be made for her husband before she was obliged to leave.

The prayers of the people were heard and answered. The Prince survived; and on the 27th February 1872, being the festival called “Thanksgiving Day," the Queen, the Prince and Princess of Wales, and the whole Royal Family, went up to St. Paul's Cathedral-the grandest church in London-to return thanks to God for the Prince's restoration to health. That they were to do this was made known some time beforehand, and people from all parts of Great Britain assembled to manifest their gratitude for his recovery, as well as to show their love and respect for the Prince and Princess, and for their own beloved Queen. The concourse of men and women, of nobility and gentry of every rank and degree, was the grandest ever yet assembled beneath the towering dome of St. Paul's. And there was no one of the royal group on whom the people gazed more proudly and more lovingly than on the young Princess, who had proved herself so true a woman, and had set to the wives and daughters of England so heroic an example of kind-hearted piety and faithful devotion to duty.

EXERCISE XXII.

THE PIN AND THE NEEDLE.-A FAble.

A pin and needle being neighbours in a work-basket, and both being idle, began to quarrel, as idle folks are apt to do.

"I should like to know," said the pin," what you are good for, and how do you expect to go through the world without a head? What is the use of an eye if there is always something in it?"

"I am more active, and can go through more work than you can," said the needle.

"Yes; but you will not live long," said the pin.

"Why not?" said the needle.

"Because you have always a stitch in your side," said the pin. "You are a poor crooked creature," said the needle.

"And you can't bend without breaking your back," said the pin. "I'll pull your head off if you insult me again," said the needle.

High.

Moderate.

High.

"I'll put your eye out if you touch me. Remember your life hangs by Moderate. a single thread," said the pin.

While they were thus conversing a little girl entered, and undertaking Slow. to sew, she soon broke off the needle at the eye. Then she tied the thread around the neck of the pin, and attempting to sew with it, soon pulled its head off, and threw it into the dirt with the broken needle. "Well, here we are," said the needle.

Despondent.

"We have nothing to fight about now," said the pin. "It seems mis- Quicker. fortune has brought us to our senses.'

"How Moderate.

"A pity we had not come to them sooner," said the needle. much we resemble human beings, who quarrel about their blessings till they lose them, and never find out that they are frail brothers till they lie down in the dust together as we do."

EXERCISE XXIII.

FISHERMAN AND PORTER.

A nobleman who lived in a fine mansion near Pisa, in Italy, was about Moderate time. to celebrate his marriage feast. He had obtained every kind of dainty

but fish. The sea had been so stormy for some days that no boats had ventured to leave the shore. On the very morning of the feast, however,

a poor fisherman made his appearance with a large turbot.

The nobleman, greatly pleased, asked him to name any price he thought Change voice. proper for the fish and it should be instantly paid.

"Well," said the fisherman, "what I wish to have as the price of my Slow.

fish is, one hundred lashes on my bare back, and I will not bate one stroke

on the bargain."

The nobleman and his guests were astonished at the oddity of the Change voice. request, and thinking the fisherman was only in jest, he was offered a handsome sum of money, which he resolutely refused, and said they would

have the fish only on the conditions he had stated.

'Well, well," said the nobleman, "the fellow is a humorist, and the High tone. fish we must have; but lay on lightly, and let the price be paid in our

presence."

"After he had received fifty lashes, "Hold, hold," exclaimed the fisher- Quick and loud. man, "I have a partner in this business, and it is right that he should receive his due share.”

"What!" cried the nobleman, "are there two such madcaps in the Loud world? Name him, and he shall be sent for instantly."

"You need not go far for him," said the fisherman; "you will find him Change. at your gate, in the shape of your own porter, who would not let me in

until I had promised that he should have the half of whatever I received for my turbot."

"Oh! oh!" said the nobleman, "bring him up then, and he shall Laughingly. receive the other fifty lashes with the strictest justice."

This ceremony being finished, he dismissed the porter from his service,

and amply rewarded the fisherman.

Moderate tone.

Light and quick.

Slow and low.

Bright.

Slow and moderate.

Moderate.

EXERCISE XXIV.

THE PLUM-CAKES.

A farmer who some wealth possest, with three fine boys was also blest. Tom, Will, and Jack, like other boys, loved tops and marbles, sport and toys. The farmer scouted the false plan, that money only makes the man; and to the best of his discerning was bent on giving them good learning; so with due care a school he sought, where his young sons might well be taught. Twelve days before the closing year, when Christmas holidays were near, the father called to see the boys, and asked how each his time employs; then from a basket straight he takes a goodly number of plum-cakes; twelve cakes he gives to each dear son, who each expected only one; and then with many a kind expression, he leaves them to their own discretion, resolved to mark the use each made, of what he to their hands conveyed. The twelve days past, he comes once more, and brings their ponies to the door; as home with them his ride he takes, he asks the history of the cakes.

Says Will, "Dear father, life is short, so I resolved to make quick sport; the cakes were all so nice and sweet, I thought I'd have a jolly treat; so, snugly by myself I fed when every boy was gone to bed; I ate them all, both paste and plum, and did not spare a single crumb; but, oh! they made me to my sorrow, as sick as death upon the morrow.'

Quoth Tom, "I was not such a dunce to eat my plum-cakes all at once; and though the whole were in my power, did I a single cake devour? thanks to the use of keys and locks, they're all now snug within my box." The mischief was, by hoarding long they grew so mouldy and so strong that none of them were fit to eat, and so he lost his father's treat.

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Well, Jack," the anxious parent cries, "how did you manage?"Jack replies, "I thought each day its wants would have, and appetite again would crave; so every day I took but one, but never eat my cake alone; with every needy boy I shared, and more than half I always spared. One every day 'twixt self and friend has brought my dozen to an end. Tom called me spendthrift not to save, Will called me fool because I gave; but when our last day came I smiled, for Will's were gone, and Tom's were spoiled; not hoarding much, nor eating fast, my cakes were good unto the last."

These tales the father's thoughts employ; "by these,” said he, "I know each boy. Yet Tom who hoarded what he had, the world will call a frugal lad; and selfish gormandizing Will will meet with friends and favourers still; while moderate Jack, so wise and cool, the mad and vain will deem a fool. But I his sober plan approve, and Jack has gained a father's love.-Hannah More.

EXERCISE XXV.

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

As soon as it was light, John and Harry were awake, and ready to get up, long before their time, they were in such a hurry to be off home.

They tried to stop in bed, but they could not sleep; so they talked to one

another to pass the time.

changed alternately,

JOHN. When I get home, I shall buy a rabbit. I can soon make a Let voice be place to keep it in out of an old box; and there are plenty of things to feed it on. Then it will have some young ones. I can sell them, and make a bigger place.

HARRY. I don't care for rabbits. They only do to look at now and then, and are a great deal of bother.

JOHN. Oh! but it is such fun to see them jump, and watch them nibble the cabbage-leaves, and set their long ears so prettily.

HARRY. Well, I should like a squirrel with its bushy tail. I could keep that in the house, and always have it to look at. Then it has such funny ways-spinning round in a wire barrel, and cracking nuts.

JOHN. I can't lie in bed any longer; I must get up and pack my clothes.
HARRY. So will I; then I shall be ready when father comes for me in

his gig.

JOHN. I wish I could get home in a gig. It will take me all day to get to my home.

HARRY. How are you going, John?

JOHN. I must go by railway first, as far as London; then I shall have to get a cab from the station to the steamer; and perhaps I shall go in a boat to the side of the ship. Then I shall be all the rest of the day on the steamer; and I shall not get to Margate till near dark.

HARRY. Oh! I would not live at Margate then, for anything.

JOHN. Yes, you would though, I know: there's such jolly fun on the shore. I have got a little boat, just like a big ship, with all its masts and ropes, and a real rudder, and I can hoist a flag. It sails like a man-of-war. HARRY. How jolly; and has it got sails?

JOHN. Yes; and a funnel like a steamer, and paddle-wheels.

HARRY. Can it steam, then?

JOHN. No; it can't steam, because you can't get inside to work it, you know.

HARRY. Oh! then, I had rather have my pony-cart.

JOHN. Ah! but there are such jolly little carriages at Margate, like real big ones, only drawn by goats for horses; and you sit on a box and drive them like a coachman. Then there are lots of donkeys to ride, only a shilling an hour.

HARRY. I wonder where my collar is? I must have put them all in my box; and I must pull all the things out again; and I have not got a necktie.

JOHN. I'm dressed, all but my jacket and waistcoat. I've packed my boots up; but I must keep these slippers on till my shoes are cleaned. I wish that boy would get up and clean them.

HARRY. I shall put mine into the box, and stand in my stockings. Then I shall be all ready when the shoes come.

JOHN. What is that coming up the road? I hope it is father with the gig. Oh! what a bore; it is only old Tom with his waggon.

HARRY. Hurrah! here comes the truck for my box; and, if Giles won't take it at once, I can wheel it in a barrow.-Rev. J. Ridgway.