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AN APRIL DAY.

gar'-ner-ed, stored up
grove, a double row of trees
warb'-ling, gently singing
con-tin'-u-ous, not leaving off
screen (v.), to hide

hon'-ey-suc-kle, a climbing plant
cones, leaf buds

rc-veal', to make known

steal, to move softly
fra'-grance, sweetness of scent
rife, full of

del'-uge, a flood

dim'-ples, small hollows

am'-ber, a yellow transparent sub

stance

All day the low-hung clouds have dropt
Their garnered fulness down;
All day that soft grey mist hath wrapt
Hill, valley, grove, and town.

There has not been a sound to-day
To break the calm of nature,
Nor motion, I might almost say,
Of life, or living creature;

Of waving bough, or warbling bird,
Or cattle faintly lowing;

I could have half believed I heard
The leaves and blossoms growing.

I stood to hear-I love it well,
The rain's continuous sound--
Small drops, but thick and fast they fell,
Down straight into the ground.

For leafy thickness is not yet

Earth's naked breast to screen,
Though every dripping branch is set
With shoots of tender green.

Sure, since I looked at early morn,

Those honeysuckle buds

Have swelled to double growth; that thorn

Hath put forth larger studs.

That lilac's cleaving cones have burst,
The milk-white flowers revealing;
Even now, upon my senses first
Methinks their sweets are stealing.
The very earth, the steamy air
Is all with fragrance rife;

And grace and beauty everywhere
Are flushing into life.

Down, down they come-those fruitful stores!
Those earth-rejoicing drops!

A momentary deluge pours,

Then thins, decreases, stops.

And ere the dimples on the stream
Have circled out of sight,
Lo! from the west a parting gleam
Breaks forth of amber light.
But yet behold-abrupt and loud,
Comes down the glittering rain;
The farewell of a passing cloud,
The fringes of her train.

COMPOUND SUBTRACTION.

Chaucer.

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'Put the young horse in the plough,' said the farmer; and very much pleased he was to be in a team with Dobbin and the grey mare. It was a long field, and gaily he walked across it, his nose upon Dobbin's haunches, having hard work to keep at so slow a pace.

'Where are we going now?' he said, when he got to the top. This is very pleasant.' "Back again,' said Dobbin.

'What for?' said the young horse, rather surprised; but Debbin had gone to sleep, for he could plough as well asleep as awake.

'What are ve going back for?' he asked, turning round to the old grey mare.

Keep on,' said the grey mare, 6 or we shall never get to the bottom, and you 'll have the whip at your heels.'

6

Very odd indeed,' said the young horse, who thought he had had enough of it, and was not sorrv

he was coming to the bottom of the field. Great was his astonishment, when Dobbin, just opening his eyes, again turned, and proceeded, at the same pace, up the field again.

How long is this going on?' asked the young horse.

Dobbin just glanced across the field as his eyes closed, and fell asleep again, as he began to calculate how long it would take to plough it.

'How long will this go on?' he asked, turning to the grey mare.

6

Keep up, I tell you,' she said, ' or you'll have me on your heels.'

When the top came, and another turn, and the bottom, and another turn, the poor young horse was in despair; he grew quite dizzy, and was glad, like Dobbin, to shut his eyes, that he might get rid of the sight of the same ground so continually.

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Well,' he said, when the gears were taken off, if this is your ploughing, I hope I shall have no more of it.' But his hopes were vain; for many days he ploughed, till he got, not reconciled to it but tired of complaining of the weary, monotonous work.

In the hard winter, when comfortably housed in the warm stable, he cried out to Dobbin, as he was cating some delicious oats, I say Dobbin, this is better than ploughing; do you remember that field? I hope I shall never have anything to do with that business again. What in the world could be the use of walking up a field just for the sake of walking down again? It's enough to make one laugh to think of it.'

How do you like your oats?' said Dobbin. 'Delicious!' said the young horse.

Then please to remember, if there were no ploughing, there would be no oats.'-Leisure Hour.

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The humming-bird! the humming-bird!
So fairy-like and bright;

It lives among the sunny flowers,
A creature of delight!

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