Then slamming the door

In the poor Cricket's face,
He went and sat down
In his warm, cozy place,
And said, "I am sure,
I'd be very, very poor
If I idled away

Every warm summer day.

66

And I think that this rule
Is both right and good;

He who lives without work
Must go without food."

wrōte

reached

făm’ily

stud'ied

wom'an

phy şi'çian huş'band ne çes'sĩ ty měd'i çine di rĕe'tions piec'es re quires'

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

There was once a kind man whose name was Oliver Goldsmith. He wrote many good books, some of which you may read when you are older.

He had a gentle heart. He was always ready to help others and give them a part of

anything he had.

He gave so much to the

poor that he was always poor himself.

He was sometimes called Doctor Goldsmith; for he had studied to be a physician.

One day a day a poor woman woman asked Doctor Goldsmith to go and see her husband; for she said he was sick and could not eat. Goldsmith did so. He found that the family was in great need. The man had not had work for a long time.

He was not sick,

but only in trouble; and as for eating, there was not a bit of food in the house.

"Call at my room this evening," said Doctor Goldsmith to the woman. "I will then give you some medicine for your husband."

In the evening the woman called. The doctor gave her a little paper box that was very heavy.

"Here is the medicine," he said. "Use it with care, and I think it will do your husband a great deal of good. But don't open the box until you reach home."

"What are the directions for taking it?" asked the woman.

"You will find them inside of the box,' he answered. "Read them when you get home."

When the woman reached her home she sat down by her husband, and they opened the box. What do you think they found in it? It was full of pieces of money. And on the top were the directions:

"To be taken as often as necessity requires."

66

What does he mean?" asked the man.

He means that we are to use the money to buy what we need most," said the woman.

Doctor Goldsmith had given them all the ready money that he had.

Far down in the valley the wheat grows deep,

And the reapers are making the cradles sweep; And this is the song that I hear them sing, While cheery and loud their voices ring:

"'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow! ho! ho!"

And it is for Alice's supper

Far down by the river the old mill stands,
And the miller is rubbing his dusty hands;
And these are the words of the miller's lay,
As he watches the millstones grinding away :
""Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
And it is for Alice's supper hi! hi!”

Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
And cook is kneading the soft, white dough;
And this is the song she is singing to-day,
As merry and busy she's working away:
""Tis the finest dough, whether near or afar,
And it is for Alice's supper-ha! ha!"

To the nursery now comes mother, at last, And what in her hand is she bringing so fast? 'Tis a plateful of something, all yellow and white,

And she sings as she comes, with her smile so bright:

"'Tis the best bread and butter I ever did see, And it is for Alice's supperhe! he!"