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those who maltreat them will find their error, should it ever become convenient to turn them into cash.

8. Some persons never lose the habit they acquired at the primary school, where they learned to spell "a, b, ab," and "b, a, ba"; and, to the end of their lives, hold their books by sheer force of thumb pressed between the margins at the foot of the page. If this class of persons read much,-which they never do, their books would perish by the tortures of the thumb

screw.

9. Books should be handled tenderly. It should be remembered that their nerves and sinews are but sewing-thread and thin glue, and that they are not brickbats. They should never be forced open too wide; should not be swung by a single cover; not thumbed, like a child's primer; not folded down at the corners, to mark where the reader left off; not ground beneath the elbow; not consigned to the mercy of pitch-and-toss accidents.

10. When read, they should lie comfortably in the hollow of the hand, or rest on the table or readingstand; and there is not really the slightest necessity for dropping a spoonful or two of bread-crumbs between the leaves. If they are good books (and if they are bad, the sooner the owner gets rid of them the better), they have a solid right to good treatment, and should have it.

11. It was a habit of Sir Peter Lely, the celebrated painter, never, if he could help it, to look at a bad picture; he having found, by experience, that whenever he did so he would unconsciously get something bad from it, which his pencil would reproduce. Apply Sir Peter's rule to bad books and bad company. "The knowledge of wickedness is not wisdom." There is no worse robber than a bad book.

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Pronounce glisten, glis'sn. 'T will is a contraction of it will. Do not say comin for com'ing. Mind the ng sound.

THERE's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming:

We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming.
Cannon balls may aid the truth,

But thought's a weapon stronger;
We'll win our battle by its aid;
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming:

The pen shall supersede the sword,
And Right, not Might, shall be the lord,

In the good time coming.

Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind,
And be acknowledged stronger;
The proper impulse has been given;
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming:
War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity,

In the good time coming.

Nations shall not quarrel then,

To prove which is the stronger;

Nor slaughter men for glory's sake;-
Wait a little longer.

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WAR'RIOR (war'yur), n., a person en- | TOM'A-HAWK, n., an Indian hatchet. gaged in war; a soldier.

HYP'O-CRITE, n., a dissembler.

AM'BUSH (the u as in bull), n., the BULL'ET, n., a ball for a gun.

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Avoid saying pison for poi'son (poi'zn); caouncl for coun'cil; caoward for cow' ard; wuss for worse (the or like er in her); wite for white; wiz for whiz. The th ir, with has the vocal sound as in breathe.

1. You have taken me prisoner, with all my warriors. I am much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat you, to hold out much longer, and give you more trouble before I surrendered. I tried hard to get you into an ambush; but your last general understands Indian fighting. I determined to rush on you,

and fight you face to face. I fought hard; but your guns were well ́aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air, and whizzed by our ears like the wind through the trees in winter.

2. My warriors fell around me. I saw that my evil day was at hand. The sun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night it sank in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. That was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his bosom. He is now a prisoner to the white men. They will do with him as they wish.

3. But he can defy torture, and is not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black Hawk is an Indian. He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to be ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, against white men, who came, year after year, to cheat them, and take away their lands. You know the cause of our making war. It is known to all white men, known, to their shame. The white men despise the Indians, and drive them from their homes. But the Indians are not deceitful. The white men speak ill of the Indian, and look at him spitefully. But the Indian does not tell lies. Indians do not steal.

4. An Indian bad as the white men could not live in our nation. He would be put to death, and be eaten up by wolves. The white men who come to us are bad schoolmasters. They carry false looks, and deal in false actions; they smile in the face of the poor Indian, to cheat him; they shake him by the hand, to gain his confidence, to make him drunk, and to deceive him. We told them to let us alone, and keep away from us; but they followed on, and beset our paths, and coiled themselves among us, like the snake, poisoning us by their touch.

5. We were not safe. We lived in danger. We

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were becoming, like them, hypocrites and liars, all talkers, and no workers. We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to our Father, at Washington. We were encouraged. His great council gave us fair words and big promises; but we obtained no satisfaction. Things were growing worse. There were no deer in the forest. The opossum and beaver were fled; the springs were drying up, and our people were without victuals, to keep them from starving.

6. We called a great council, and made a large fire. The spirit of our fathers arose, and spoke to us to avenge our wrongs or die. We all spoke before the council-fire. It was warm and pleasant. We uttered the war-whoop, and dug up the tomahawk; our knives were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk swelled high in his bosom when he led his warriors to battle. He is satisfied. He will go to the world of spirits contented. His father will meet him there, and commend him. Black Hawk has done his duty.

7. He is a true Indian, and disdains to cry like a woman. He feels for his wife, his children, and his friends. But he does not care for himself. He cares for his people. They will suffer. He laments their fate. The white men do not scalp heads; but they do worse, they poison hearts. His countrymen will not be scalped, but they will, in a few years, become like the white men, so that you can not trust them; and there must be, as in the white settlements, nearly as many officers as men, to take care of them, and keep them in order.

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8. Farewell, my nation! Black Hawk tried to save you, and avenge your wrongs. He spilt the blood of some of the whites. He has been taken prisoner, and his plans are stopped. He can do no more! He is near his end. His sun is setting, and he will rise no more. Tarewell to Black Hawk!

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