Describe the filters. When it has passed through the filters what colour is the syrup? How is it made clear? What is it run into? What is it called when it leaves the moulds? SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. 1. The woman was old, and ragged, and gray, Of human beings who passed her by, Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye. 2. Down in the street, with laughter and shout, Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet 3. At last came one of the merry troop— He paused beside her, and whispered low, Proud that his own were firm and strong. 4. Then back to his gay, young friends he went, And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head Was: "God be kind to the noble boy, Who is somebody's son, and pride, and joy." cross-ing hast-en-ed slip-per-y some-bo-dy's heed-ed of-fer-ed whis-per-ed bow-ed anx-i-ous a-fraid guid-ed pray-er THE ENGLISH SAILOR BOY. A TRUE STORY. 1. When Bonaparte, the Emperor of France, was staying at Boulogne, a town on the sea-coast opposite England, Tom Berry, a young English sailor boy who had been taken prisoner by the French, contrived to escape out of prison. 2. He hid himself in a large wood, where, unknown to anybody, he lived for some time exposed to the greatest privations. In the hope of returning to England, he contrived to make a boat ten feet long. and four feet broad. It consisted of the branches of the forest trees bound together with bark. A favourites? Describe the throne of the Shah of Persia. What use do the Chinese make of the feathers of the peacock? Where is the native home of the peacock? How does the peacock seem to show its vanity? Describe its tail. How does the female differ in appearance from the male? On what does the peacock chiefly feed? When do the young birds acquire their perfect brilliancy of plumage? 1. Queen of fresh flowers, In nature's greenest livery drest, Thou merry month of May. 2. Mark! how we meet thee While all the goodly things that be 3. Flocks on the mountains, And birds upon their spray, Tree, turf, and fountains All hold holiday; And love, the life of living things, Love waves his torch and claps his wings, And loud and wide thy praises sings, Thou merry month of May. |