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And gath'er honey all the day
From every opening flower

How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And la'bours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;

For Sa'tan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play
Let my first years be past;
That I may give, for every day,
Some good account at last.

QUESTIONS.

How many kinds of bees does the hive contain? What are the names given to these different kinds? What operations are performed by the working bees? How are the drones known? What do the working bees do to the drones at the end of the season? What distinguishes the queen bee from the others? What marks of respect are paid to the queen bee ? Of what are bee hives commonly made? What useful lesson should we learn from the bee?

GOD MADE AND KNOWS ALL THINGS.

God made me. It is he that keeps me in life; d to him I owe all the good things in my lot.

He gives me the air that I breathe, the food that I eat, the clothes that I wear, the home that I dwell in, the friends that are dear to me. But Inore than all this, he has made himself known to ine, as my God and Father in heaven. He has sent Christ to save me from my sins. He gives me his word, to tell me of all that is best for me to know; and, by his grace, I am taught to read it. O how good is God to me? I wish I could love him, and praise him, and serve him, as I ought to do. I will pray to him that he would help me to do so; that he would keep me from all sin; that he would give me strength to walk in the right way; that he would be with me when I die; and that, at last, he would take me to the rest and joy which shall never come to an end.

God sees all that I do; he hears all that I say; and, what is far more, he knows all that is in my heart-all that I think, and feel, and wish. I can hide many of my words, and deeds, from men; but I cannot hide one of them from God; for in his sight the gloom of the darkest night, is the same as the light of the brightest day. And into my very soul his eye can pierce with as much ease as it can see me when I sit or move. O, how should this make me fear to give any place at all to sin, which he hates so much, and which will cause him to take his love from me! And how should it make me ask him to pardon the many bad things which I have thought, and said and

done, and which are all well known to him, and for which he will judge me at the last day! May he himself help me to bear in mind this great truth, that I cannot go where he is not with me, that I cannot do any thing which he does not see, that a thought cannot pass through my mind which he does not mark.

QUESTIONS.

Who gives us all the good things that we enjoy? What are some of these good things bestowed upon us by God? To whom ought we to pray? What are sonie of the blessings for which we should pray to God? Who knows all that we think, do, and say? Seeing God knows all that we think do and say, what effect should this have upon us? When will God judge us for what we do and say ?

THE SUN RISE.

It is a fine thing to see the sun rise.

Few boys

and girls ever see that sight; for they sit up late at night, and lie in bed a-sleep' till the day is far spent. Jane and I went at dawn into the fields; the maid and we took a walk to a piece of high ground, and we saw the sun rise as if it had been out of the sea, and its rays were so bright, that we could scarcely ook at it. Then the maid told us to turn our acks to the sun, which we did, and we saw the whole face of the land round and round. The tops

The

of the hills shone as if they had been of gold. towns, with their spires and houses, were gay with the new-born light. Every thing that met our eye

A lark rose

wore a sweet and charming smile. from her bed of grass, and sung a fine song over our heads, and mount'ed so high up in the air, that at last we could not see where she was.

We saw

a hare start up very near us, and limp away through the green corn to hide itself in the wood. The crows left their roosts, and flew to fields of red earth, through which the plough had just gone, to feed on worms and grubs, of which they are very fond. Jane had a wish to walk through the grass, and cull some flowers; but as the grass was wet with dew, the maid said, she must wait till the heat of the sun should dry it up. In the mean time, a lass came to milk some cows; and that made us stay half an hour longer, when we got some warm milk to drink; and for all that we took, we had just to pay two-pence, so that it was very cheap, as well as very good. We came home at seven o'clock; and found that it was good for our health, and a source of great joy, to get out of bed so soon in the morning, and go to walk in the fields, and to take a view of all the fine things which are spread over the earth, to please the ear, the eye, the taste, and the heart of man.

QUESTIONS.

What is the reason that so few boys and girls see the sun rise? What should they do then in order to see this fine sight? What do you call the little bird that rises high in the air and sings very pretty? What animal was seen limping through the green corn? Upon what do crows feed? When does the dew fall upon the grass? What is it that dries the dew

from the grass? What is the best time of the day for taking a walk? For what is a walk in the morning good?

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THE POOR FLY

So, so, you are running away, Mr. Fly,
But I'll come at you now, if you don't go too high;
There, there, I have caught you-you can't get away:
Never mind, my old fellow, I'm only in play.

Oh Charles! cruel Charles! you have killed the poor fly,

You have pinched him so hard, he is going to die,
His legs are all broken, and he cannot stand;
There, now he has fallen down dead in your hand!

I hope you are sorry for what you have done;
You may kill many flies, but you cannot make one.
No, you can't set it up-as I told you before,
It is dead, and it never will stand any more.

Poor thing! as it buzzed up and down on the glass,
How little it thought what was coming to pass !
For it could not have guessed, as it frisked in the sun,
That a child would destroy it for nothing but fun.

The spi'der, who weaves his fine cobweb so neat, Might have caught him, indeed, for he wants him to eat;

But poor flies must learn to keep out of your

way,

As you kill them for nothing at all but your play

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