ntie; but you will think me so careless!"

7. "To let it rain?"

8. "No; don't laugh, Aunt Annie; to leave your nice basket out of doors
all night; and now it will be soaked and ruined in this--this--beautiful
rain." Bessie did not look as if the beautiful rain made her very happy.

9. "You must be more careful, dear, another time," said her aunt, gently.
"But come, tell me all about it."

10. So Bessie crept very close to her auntie's side, and told her of her
happy time the day before; of the squirrel, and the toad, and how the
basket rolled away down the hill; and then how the bell rang, and she
could not stop to find the basket.

11. "And you did quite right," said her aunt. "If you had stopped, your
mother must have waited a whole day, or else gone without seeing you. When
I write, I will tell her how obedient you were, and that will please her
more than anything else I can say."

LESSON LXX.

sought sure'ly (shu) wel'come light'some

loft'y maid'en cher'ished in tro duce'

CHEERFULNESS.

[Illustration: Script Exercise:

There is a little maiden--
Who is she? Do you know?
Who always has a welcome,
Wherever she may go.

Her face is like the May time,
Her voice is like the bird's;
The sweetest of all music
Is in her lightsome words.

Each spot she makes the brighter,
As if she were the sun;
And she is sought and cherished
And loved by everyone;

By old folks and by children,
By loft and by low;
Who is this little maiden?
Does anybody know?

You surely must have met her.
You certainly can guess;
What! I must introduce her?
Her name is Cheeerfulness.
Marian Douglas
]

LESSON LXXI.

west'ern breathe dy'ing moon babe sails

LULLABY.

1. Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

2. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Tennyson.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of McGuffey's Secon