arned to make bread, and cook, and wore little
chintz gowns, and were as gay and hearty as kittens. All lived to be
grandmothers; and I'm the last--seventy next birthday, my dear, and not
worn out yet; though daughter Shaw is an invalid at forty."

22. "That's the way I was brought up, and that's why Fan calls me
old-fashioned, I suppose. Tell more about your papa, please; I like it,"
said Polly.

23. "Say, 'father.' We never called him papa; and if one of my brothers
had addressed him as 'governor,' as boys now do, I really think he'd have
him cut off with a shilling."

DEFINITIONS.--3. Im-pos'ing, having the power of exciting attention and
feeling, impressive. 4. Mag'pie, a noisy, mischievous bird, common in
Europe and America. 12. Van'ished, disappeared. Me'te-or, a shooting star.
13. Con'fi-dent-ly, with trust. 17. Bla-se' (pro. bla-za'), a French word
meaning surfeited, rendered incapable further enjoyment. 21. In'va-lid, a
person who is sickly.

XXXII. MY MOTHER'S HANDS.

1. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're neither white nor small;
And you, I know, would scarcely think
That they are fair at all.
I've looked on hands whose form and hue
A sculptor's dream might be;
Yet are those aged, wrinkled hands
More beautiful to me.

2. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
Though heart were weary and sad,
Those patient hands kept toiling on,
That the children might be glad.
I always weep, as, looking back
To childhood's distant day,
I think how those hands rested not
When mine were at their play.

3. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're growing feeble now,
For time and pain have left their mark
On hands and heart and brow.
Alas! alas! the nearing time,
And the sad, sad day to me,
When 'neath the daisies, out of sight,
These hands will folded be.

4. But oh! beyond this shadow land,
Where all is bright and fair,
I know full well these dear old hands
Will palms of victory bear;
Where crystal streams through endless years
Flow over golden sands,
And where the old grow young again,
I'll clasp my mother's hands.

XXXIII. THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM.

Jane Taylor (b. 1783, d. 1824) was born in London. Her mother was a writer
of some note. In connection with her sister Ann, Jane Taylor wrote several
juvenile works of more than ordinary excellence. Among them were "Hymns
for Infan