ed," said Alice, bursting into tears; "I would love to be your
daughter, nothing could make me happier."

In a very short time every thing was changed in the little cottage. Mrs.
Reed had legally adopted Alice as her daughter and was sending her to
school.

Fresh paint, inside and out, and many new comforts, made the old house
charming and bright. But nothing could change the happy relations
between the two friends, and a more contented and cheerful household
could not be found anywhere.

* * * * *

Language Lesson.--Tell the story in your own words, using the points
given in the following

Analysis.--1. Mrs. Reed's home. 2. Her talk with Alice. 3. Mrs. Reed
prepares a present for Alice. 4. Alice receives the work-box. 5. What
was found in it. 6. The broken tile and the discovery of the money. 7.
What happened after that.

* * * * *

LESSON XXIX.

dells, _small valleys_.

bow'ers, _covered places made of boughs_.

troupe, _a number of living beings; a company_.

daf'fo dils, _yellow flowers_.

sheen, _brightness; splendor_.

sprite, _an unreal person_.

sus pend'ed, _stopped for a time; hung_.

va'ries, _is different; changes_.

blue'bell, _a kind of flower_.

ram'bling, _wandering_.

rev'el, _play in a noisy manner_.

* * * * *

LOOKING FOR THE FAIRIES.

I've peeped in many a bluebell,
And crept among the flowers,
And hunted in the acorn cups,
And in the woodland bowers;
And shook the yellow daffodils,
And searched the gardens round,
A-looking for the little folk
I never, never found.

I've linger'd till the setting sun
Threw out a golden sheen,
In hope to see a fairy troupe
Come dancing on the green;
And marveled that they did not come
To revel in the air,
And wondered if they slept, and where
Their hiding-places were.

I've wandered with a timid step
Beneath the moon's pale light,
And every blazing dew-drop seemed
To be a tiny sprite;
And listened with suspended breath,
Among the grand, old trees,
For fairy music floating soft
Upon the evening breeze.

Ah me! those pleasant, sunny days,
In youthful fancies wild,--
Rambling through the wooded dells,
A careless, happy child!
And now I sit and sigh to think
Age from childhood varies,
And never more may we be found