The first (-fifth and sixth) 'standard' reading and home lesson book, by two certificated masters [T.S. Birkby and J. Grayston].

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13 psl. - Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they, I pray you tell?
42 psl. - THE boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form.
70 psl. - From his cradle He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer...
14 psl. - And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side.
10 psl. - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
5 psl. - 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.
39 psl. - O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee!
59 psl. - Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig, or the gentleman's cloak.
13 psl. - Twelve steps or more from mother's door, And they are side by side. " My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit — I sit and sing to them. " And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take' my little porringer And eat my supper there, " The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain ; And then she went away.
108 psl. - And see the lighted windows flame ! To force me home my mother sought, She could not bear to see my joy ; For with my father's life 'twas bought, And made me a poor orphan boy. The people's shouts were long and loud, My mother, shuddering, closed her ears ; " Rejoice, rejoice," still cried the crowd, My mother answered with her tears. " Why are you crying thus," said I, " While others laugh and shout with joy?

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