LESSON LVI. Nancy and Rose. Nancy. There is no bearing it, Rose, I wonder you can bear it! Rose. Bear what, Nancy? Nancy. To have my children, and your children, faulted as they are by Bet Shaughness. She scolded them, and that was not enough; but she beat my Jem, and your Larry, because her dirty brat said they took his ball. Rose. Did they take his ball? I would be very sorry for that! If children rob their play-fellows, what will they do when they are men? Nancy. O, Rose, you are too particular! What great matter if they took his ball? Rose. Great matter indeed! one can't be too particular in making children honest. Nancy. Well, they did not take his ball then. I saw it, with my two eyes, roll into the ditch. Rose. Now I'm easy. Nancy. But I'm not easy. I'll be revenged on her for beating my child. Rose. It was very wrong and silly of her to mind what her child said; but it is not worth taking notice of. Never think any thing about children falling out. Poor things! they'll be out, and in again in a minute. Don't harden their little hearts, by taking part with one against another. Nancy. Bet's a bad neighbour! Did you hear what she said of you? Rose. I strive not to deserve to have any of my neighbours speak ill of me; but if they do I had rather not hear it. There is nothing in this world worth losing one's peace of mind for; and I should not have much peace, if I watched what people said of me. If they say wrong, it is the worse for themselves; but I pray that nothing may make me keep ill will to any one; for then I think I could not lie down in comfort to sleep, or rise up pleasantly to work, or do any thing as I ought, if my mind was poisoned with spite. Nancy. And would you let yourself be trod upon? and sure you will, if you don't show spirit. Rose. I think people that mind their own business, and live lovingly with their neighbours, are never trod upon. Nancy. O, it's hard to live lovingly with some; and when I've said my say, it's all over in a minute; besides, the best natured people are the most passionate; that's my comfort. Rose. Nancy, dear, can you believe that foolish saying, invented, and spread abroad by the passionate, to excuse themselves? Pray recollect amongst your own friends and acquaintances, if the best natured were not always the gentlest, and the mildest too. However, it's my na Nancy. I can't say but they are. ture to be hasty, and I can't help it. Rose. Every person can help it. Do you ever see any one in a passion with those who can do them great service? a man, for instance, with an old person, from whom he expects a good legacy? or a tenant with his landlord? No, no, they take care to keep their passion for those that are under them and in their power. Besides, as to saying it's your nature, Nancy, to be sure it is the nature of us all to do wrong; and we must try to get the better of our bad inclinations, and pray against them, and not let them grow into bad habits. LESSON LVII. Paraphrase of the Nineteenth Psalm.-ADDISON. THE spacious firmament on high, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great original proclaim. The unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display ; And publishes to ev'ry land, The work of an almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, What, though in solemn silence, all LESSON LVIII. The Sacrifice of Abraham.-WIllis. MORN breaketh in the east. The purple clouds Are putting on their gold and violet, To look the meeter for the sun's bright coming. How hallowed is the hour of morning! meet, "T is his wont The patriarch standeth at his tented door, As at his fourscore strength. But now he seemeth To be forgetful of his vigorous frame, The hour to sacrifice his much loved son! Light poureth on the world. And Sarah stands, Watching the steps of Abraham and her child Along the dewy sides of the far hills, And praying that her sunny boy faint not. The bright sun throwing back the old man's shade, Firm in his better strength, and like a tree Of the fresh flowers, won him from his path; And fragrant shrub was a new hiding-place, To see if he had made his father smile. The sun rode on in heaven. The dew stole up Weariness Stole on the gentle boy, and he forgot And spring for the light wings and gaudy flowers, Close by his father's side, and bent his head It was noon; And Abraham on Moriah bowed himself, Complain, like delicate harp strings, at a breath; Passed o'er his countenance; and then he nerved |