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37. With what voice does the avalanche heard in its descent from these peaks to speak?

the clouds ? 38. What destruction do avalanches 44. Why will they not be seen and sometimes occasion ?

heard there? 39. Why “livery flowers" ?

45. What are the duties of an ambas40. What is said of the wild goats-of sador ? the eagles,-of the lightnings ?

46. In what way are these done by this 41. How high up do clouds usually rest? mountain ? (Ans. Clouds are most frequently less 47, By what titles is the mountain ad. than a mile in height);

dressed in the last few lines ? 42. Are not the sky-pointing peaks” 48. What were the duties of the ancient much higher than this ?

High Priest in the Temple ? 43. Will the avalanche be seen and 49. What is this Hierarch called on to

do ?

XXVIII.-LINES TO A MOUSE. Sleekit-sleek.

Win's—winds. The final consonBeastie-little beast. The termina. ant is often ommitted, as an' for

tion ie marks the diminutive. and, o' for of, &c. Bickering brattle-hasty run. Bigbuild. Laith-loth; as baith, both. Foggage— long grass. Pattle--a small spade to clean the Snell— bitter. plough.

But-without. Whyles--sometimes.

Hald-abiding place, home. Daimen icker-an ear of corn oc- Thole-endure. casionally.

Cranreuch-hoar-frost. Thrave—twenty-four sheaves. No' thy lane—not alone. Lave-leaving, the rest.

Gang aft a-gley-go often wrong. Wee bit housie little bit of a house.

WEE, sleekit, cowerin, timorous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie !
Thou needna start awa sae hasty,

Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,

Wi' murdering pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken nature's social union,
An justifies that ill opinion,

Which maks thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,

An fellow mortal !
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave

'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lavė,

And never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
An naething, now, to big a new ane,

O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin',

Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin' fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter pass'd

Out-thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! Now thou's turned out for a’ thy trouble,

But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble

And cranreuch cauld !

But, Mousie, thou art no' thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain :
The best-laid schemes o' mice anmen,

Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea’e us nought but grief and pain,

For promised joy.

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, oh! I backward cast my e'e

On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,

I guess an' fear.

Burns.

1. What was the occasion of these 7. To what purpose had all its labours beautiful lines ?

been ? 2. does the poet callPhimself 8. Who often fail in their plans as well verse second ?

as the poor mouse ? 3. Show me that this is correct in one 9. On what grounds did the bard call sense and not in another?

the mouse blest when compared with 4. At what season of the year did this him? incident take place ?

10. What makes us dread to look into 5. Why was there the more pity of the futurity ? mouse on this account?

11. How is it we obtain the victory over 6. Would the building of the nest have sin ? cost the mouse much toil ?

XXIX.—THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. Bairnie-diminutive of bairn, a | Airn-iron. child.

Lithless-comfortless. Frecky-eager, ready:

Siccan-such. Sairly forfairnsorely distressed, Clutches—i.e. pulls at his hair. destitute.

Lo'e-love. Dowieworn out with grief. Mools-earth. Hapswraps, covers up.

Bannock-barley-cake. Hackit heelies-heels chapped with Couthilie-kindly.

the cold.

WHEN a' ither bairnies are hushed to their hame
By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grand-dame,
Wha stands last an' lanely, an' sairly forfairn ?
'Tis the puir dowie laddie—the mitherless bairn!
The mitherless bairnie creeps to his lane bed,
Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head ;
His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn,
An' lithless the lair o' the mitherless bairn!
Aneath his cauld brow, siccan dreams hover there,
O' hands that wont kindly to kaim his dark hair.!
But morning brings clutches a' reckless an' stern,
That lo'e na the locks o' the mitherless bairn!

The sister who sang o'er his saftly rocked bed,
Now rests in the mools where their mammie is laid;
While the faither toils sair his wee bannock to earn,
An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn!
Her spirit that passed in yon bour of his birth
Still watches his lone lorn wanderings on earth,
Recording in heaven the blessings they earn,
Wha couthilie deal with the mitherless bairn!
Oh! speak him na harshly-he trembles the while,
He bends to your bidding, and blesses your

smile: In their dark hour o'anguish the heartless shall learn, That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn !

Thoms. 1. Who had no one to put him to bed ? 9. Where is she now ? 2. How got he to bed ?

10. Why must his father leave him all 3. Had he shoes to his feet?

day? 4. What sort of bed had he?

11, How old was he when his mother 5. What sort of dreams visit his pillow? died ? 6. Who used to comb his dark hair? 12. How will those fare who deal cruelly 7. How does he find himself when he a., with the orphan ? wakes ?

13. What is said by the Spirit, in Psalms 8. Who used to rock his cradle ?

Lxviii, 5?

XXX.-THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. ROBERT BURNS was born January 25th 1759, in a clay-built cottage, raised by his father's own hands, on the banks of the Doon, in the district of Kyle, Ayrshire. At the age of six he was sent to school, and appears to have been a diligent little student. At an early age he assisted his father in his farming business, continuing his educa. tion at intervals. When about twenty, he composed several of the poems which afterwards distinguished his name. After various domestic trials, when on the point of leaving England for Jamaica, where he had got a situation, the publication of his poems awakened so much interest in their author, that he abandoned his purpose, and after an unsuccessful experiment in farming. obtained an appointment in the excise. He died at Dumfries, in the year 1796, at the early age of 37 years.

The following remarks are by Dr. Currie, the early biographer of Burns. "The Cotter's Saturday Night is tender and moral, solemn and devotional, and rises at length into a strain of grandeur and sublimity

which modern poetry has not surpassed, The poble sentiments of patriotism, with which it concludes, correspond with the rest of the poem. In no age or country have the pastoral muses breathed such elevated accents, if the Messiah of Pope be excepted, which is indeed a pastoral in form only." Sugh, means, the continued rush- | Halesome-healthful, wholesome,

ing noise of wind or water. Hawkie—cow. Stacher-stagger.

Hallan—a particular partition wall Flichteringfluttering.

in a cottage. Ingle-fire.

Cood-cud. Belyve-by and by.

Weel-hain'dwell-spared. Tentie-heedful, cautious.

Kebbuck-cheese. Braw-fine, handsome.

Towmond-twelvemonth Sair-sadly, sorely.

Sin' lint was the bell-since the Spiers—inquires.

flax was in flower. Uncos- news.

Big ha' Bible—the great Bible that Gars-makes.

lies in the hall. Claes-clothes.

Lyart haffets-gray temples. Eydent – diligent.

Wales—chooses. Jauk-trifle.

Beets-adds fuel to fire.

NOVEMBER chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ;

The short'ning winter day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ;

The black’ning trains o' craws to their repose ; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,

This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,

Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ;
Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through

To meet their Dad, wi' flichtering noise an' glee.
His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile,

The lisping infant prattling on his knee,

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil,
Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in,

At service out amang the farmers roun';
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin

A cannie errand to a neebor town:
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown,

Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee,
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
Wi' joy unfeign’d brothers and sisters meet,

An each for other's welfare kindly spiers :
The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;

Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ;

Anticipation forward points the view ;
The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ;
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
Their maister's an' their mistress's command,

The younkers a' are warned to obey ;
An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand,

An' ne'er tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play: “ An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,

An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Lest in temptation's path' ye gang astray,

Implore his counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!" But now the supper crowns their simple board,

The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : The soupe their only hawkie does afford,

That 'yont the ballan snugly chows her cood; The dame brings forth in complimental mood,

To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell,
An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;

The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell,
How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.

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