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It glittered in the morning sun
In characters of gold,

As beautiful at noontide hour,

Like truth that ne'er grows old;

What though the storms were fierce without,
With low-hung clouds of gloom,
A halo crowned those sacred words,
Its radiance filled the room-
"God bless our school."

Once to my side a fair young child
Came with her eyes of blue,
So full of light and innocence,
Pure thoughts were there I knew.
"Teacher," said she, “ I wonder so
If it can really be,

That God who lives high up above
Looks down from heaven to see
And bless our school.".

Oh, what a fitting time to teach
A sweet and holy truth,
To leave its impress deep engraved
Upon the mind of youth!

I took the little hand in mine,

Gazed in that childish face,

And told how He whose watchful love

Abides in every place,

Could bless our school;

And how not e'en a sparrow's fall,
Not e'en a raven's cry,

Though small they seem, could e'er escape
The notice of His eye.

The child-face glowed with happy smiles,
"Ah! now I know," said she,
"If God loves e'en the little birds,
He surely cares for me,

And all our school."

O ye! unto whose tender care
These little ones are given,

Spurn not the thoughtful questionings,
But turn their hearts to heaven.
And when ye twine about your rooms
The rich festoons of green,

There place among those graceful vines
These golden words to gleam-

"God bless our school."

TO AMERICA IN 1876.-MARTIN F. TUPPER.

Great and understanding nation,
Bear with one whose humble pen
Sends this hearty commendation
Flying through the mouths of men;
Not in vain, presumptuous daring,
But with gratitude sincere,
As your thousand bounties sharing
This Centennial, happy year.
None need doubt my faithful fitness
Thus to judge, and so to speak
As a true and honest witness,

Mindful, though the words be weak,
Since I may not tell out strongly
All the best I feel and see,

Lest suspicion, sneering wrongly,
Find a flatterer in me.

Five and twenty years have vanished
Since I hailed you once before,
And my memory holds unbanished
How you greeted me of yore;
Even now some few surround me-
Though that quarter-century's fled-
And their love has newly crowned me
With old blessings on my head.

Thanks to you, dear old and new friends,
Each and all my praise receive,
Everywhere I know you true friends
And your cordial words believe;

As a brother greets a brother,

Still our generous feelings blend,

And we look on one another

Each with each as on his friend.

Noble people! now returning
Absent thus so many a year,
With what ken, not undiscerning,
Can I judge your great career?
How does Rip Van Winkle find you-
Worse or better than of yore?
Flinging all your faults behind you?
Forcing all your best before?'

Yes! as in that old Dutch story,

You have grown both great and good;

Truly, progress is your glory,

Winning all that mortals could;

Truly rising better, wiser,

For adversities and woes,

Gathering good from each adviser,

War and peace, and friends and foes.

Temperance, morals, courteous bearing,
And the hand to help all round,
Each another's burden sharing-
Generous traits like these abound;
Energetic, self-confiding,

And religious, and sincere,
Patient, duteous, law-abiding,

Men like these are common here!

God's good will, your country blessing,
Helps your works of human will,
Wondrous cities, each possessing
Every type of art and skill;
While the wilderness rejoices,
Showing Edens on the earth,
With the shout of freemen's voices,
Woman's song, and childhood's mirth.

Since your pilgrim fathers landed

(Some of mine sailed with them too),
Giant-hearted, giant-handed;

We still fight life's battles through,
Till the energies, victorious,

Of our Anglo-Saxon race

Build us yet more great, more glorious-
Kings and priests in every place!

THE LITTLE HATCHET STORY:

WITH OCCASIONAL QUESTIONS BY A FIVE-YEAR-OLD HEARER.

And so, smiling, we went on.

"Well, one day, George's father_"

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George who?" asked Clarence.

George Washington. He was a little boy, then, just like you. One day his father-”

"Whose father?" demanded Clarence, with an encouraging expression of interest.

George Washington's; this great man we are telling you of. One day George Washington's father gave him a little hatchet for a—”

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Gave who a little hatchet?" the dear child interrupted with a gleam of bewitching intelligence. Most men would have got mad, or betrayed signs of impatience, but we didn't. We know how to talk to children. So we went on:

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"Yes, George Washington. And his father told him-" "Told who?"

"Told George."

"Oh, yes, George."

And we went on, just as patient and as pleasant as you could imagine. We took up the story right where the boy interrupted, for we could see he was just crazy to hear the end of it. We said:

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"Yes; told him he must be careful with the hatchet-" "Who must be careful?"

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With the hatchet, and not cut himself with it, or drop it in the cistern, or leave it out in the grass all night. So George went round cutting everything he could reach with his hatchet. And at last he came to a splendid apple-tree, his father's favorite, and cut it down and-"

"Who cut it down?"

George did."

"Oh!"

"But his father came home and saw it the first thing, and-" "Saw the hatchet?"

"No, saw the apple-tree. And he said, 'Who has cut down my favorite apple-tree?'"

"What apple-tree?"

"George's father's. And everybody said they didn't know anything about it, and-"

"Anything about what?" "The apple-tree."

"Oh!"

"And George came up and heard them talking about it—"

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"The favorite tree that George cut down."

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George who?"

"George Washington."

"Oh!"

"So George came up and heard them talking about it.

and he-"

"What did he cut it down for?"

"Just to try his little hatchet."

"Whose little hatchet?"

Why, his own, the one his father gave him."

"Gave who?"

"Why, George Washington."

"Oh!"

"So George came up and he said, 'Father, I cannot tell & lie, I-'"

"Who couldn't tell a lie?"

"Why, George Washington. He said, 'Father, I cannot tell a lie. It was-""

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'It was I cut down your apple-tree; I did-'"

"His father did?"

"No, no; it was George said this."

"Said he cut his father?"

"No, no, no; said he cut down his apple-tree."

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