II. Noth'-ing (nuth'-), buz'- (biz'y), guilt'-y, pa'-tient (-shent), dür'-ing, thrōat, (thrōt),. fa-mil'-iar, fright'-ened (frit'nd), heav'-y, wait'-ed, vîrt'ūeş, văl'-ûe, ēa'-ger-ly, häunt'-ed, ghōst (gōst), neigh'-bor (nã'-), should (shood), com'-forts (kům'furts), read'-y.

III. Describing-words are frequently changed to express comparison (sicker compares with another one; sickest would compare with more than one).

IV. Suspected, allowed, excellent, infect, anxious, mention, deceive, trifle, devoted, uncomplainingly, control, hoarse, addressed, imploringly, relapse, pathetic, tender, acknowledge, ambition, possess, exile, service, irksome, regretful, neglected tasks, reminded, twilight, inquired, shy, protégée (pro-ta-zha'-one under the care of another), forlorn, intervals, incoherent, consciousness.

V. Notice the stages in the progress of the disease, as described here: The gradual increase in the interest of all as the case grows critical; the pathetical mention of Beth's thoughtfulness of her parents, sisters, and even of her cats; the traits of character exhibited by the nurse and the doctor.

XXXII-BETH'S SICKNESS (Continued).

1. It was past two o'clock when Jo, who stood at the window thinking how dreary the world looked in its winding sheet of snow, heard a movement by the bed, and, turning quickly, saw Meg kneeling before their mother's easy-chair, with her face hidden. A dreadful fear passed coldly over Jo as she thought, "Beth is dead, and Meg is afraid to tell me!"

2. She was at her post in an instant, and to her excited eyes a great change seemed to have taken place. The fever-flush and the look of pain were gone, and the beloved little face looked so pale and peaceful in its utter repose, that Jo felt no desire to weep or to lament. Leaning low over this dearest of her sisters, she kissed the damp forehead with her heart on her lips, and softly whispered, "Good-by, my Beth-good-by!"

3. As if waked by the stir, Hannah started out of her sleep, hurried to the bed, looked at Beth, felt her hands, listened at her lips, and then, throwing her apron over her head, sat down to rock to and fro, exclaiming under her breath: "The fever's turned! She's sleepin' nat❜ral! Her skin's damp, and she breathes easy! Praise be given! O my goodness me!

4. Before the girls could believe the happy truth, the doctor came to confirm it. He was a homely man, but they thought his face quite heavenly when he smiled, and said, with a fatherly look at them: "Yes, my dears, I think the little girl will pull through this time. Keep the house quiet. Let her sleep; and, when she wakes, give her "

5. What they were to give, neither heard; for both crept into the dark hall, and, sitting on the stairs, held each other close, rejoicing with hearts too full for words. When they went back to be kissed and cuddled by faithful Hannah, they found Beth lying, as she used to do, with her cheek pillowed on her hand, the dreadful pallor gone, and breathing quietly, as if just fallen asleep.

"If mother would only come now!" said Jo, as the winter night began to wane.

6. "See!" said Meg, coming up with a white, halfopened rose, "I thought this would hardly be ready to lay in Beth's hand to-morrow, if she--went away from us. But it has blossomed in the night, and now I mean to put it in my vase here; so, when the darling wakes, the first thing she sees will be the little rose and mother's face."

7. Never had the sun risen so beautifully, and never had the world seemed so lovely, as it did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo as they looked out in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done.

8. "It looks like a fairy world," said Meg, smiling to herself, as she stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight.

"Hark!" cried Jo, starting to her feet.

Yes, there was a sound of bells at the door below, a cry from Hannah, and then Laurie's voice, saying, in a joyful whisper: "Girls-she's come-she's come!"

Louisa M. Alcott.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. Meanwhile Laurie has telegraphed for the moth. er, and brings word that Mr. March is better. Mrs. March is expected to arrive at two in the morning. The doctor says that a change for better or worse will take place at midnight. Midnight has passed, but the sisters are still in doubt.

II. Drēar'-y, kneel'-ing (neel'-), a-fraid', list'-ened (lis'nd), à'-pron (ā'purn), vase, heav'-y, watch'-ing, sight (sit).

III. Explain the 's in "the fever's turned"; in "skin's damp"; in "she's come"; in "mother's face."

IV.

'Winding-sheet," instant, "utter repose," desire, lament, homely, pallor, dazzling, vigil.

V. Correct "She's sleepin' nat'ral." Use a better expression for "pull through." What does "O my goodness me!" express? (Anything more than joyful surprise and relief?)

XXXIII. THE RAINY DAY.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all;
Into each life some rain must fall:

Some days must be dark and dreary.

H. W. Longfellow.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. Have you read this author's poem, "Afternoon in February"? (See Lesson LXI.) Note the resemblances and differences. The day, cold, dark, dreary, rainy, with dead leaves falling, corresponds to the life within, the thoughts, hopes, etc. In the poem reterred to (LXI.) there is a similar correspondence.

V. What is the consolation which the poem mentions? What, in the second stanza, corresponds to the day, the vine, the dead leaves, in the firs stanza?

XXXIV.-AX-GRINDING.

1. When I was a little boy, I remember, one cold winter's morning, I was accosted by a smiling man with an ax on his shoulder. "My pretty boy," said he, "has

your father a grindstone?"

"Yes, sir," said I.

"You are a fine little fellow!" said he.

"Will you

2. Pleased with the compliment of "fine little fellow," "Oh, yes, sir," I answered.

shop."

"It is down in the

"And will you, my man," said he, patting me on the head, "get me a little hot water?"

How could I refuse? I ran, and soon brought a kettleful.

3. "How old are you?—and what's your name?" continued he, without waiting for a reply. "I'm sure you are one of the finest lads that I have ever seen. Will you just turn a few minutes for me?"

4. Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool, I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the day. It was a new ax, and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to death. The school-bell rang, and I could not get away. My hands were blistered, and the ax was not half ground.

5. At length, however, it was sharpened, and the man turned to me with, "Now, you little rascal, you've played truant! Scud to the school, or you'll rue it !"

"Alas!" thought I, "it was hard enough to turn a grindstone this cold day, but now to be called a little rascal is too much."

6. It sank deep into my mind, and often have I thought of it since. When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them to take a little brandy, and throwing his goods on the counter, thinks I, “That man has an ax to grind."

7. When I see a man flattering the people, making great professions of attachment to liberty, who is in private life a tyrant, methinks, "Look out, good people! That fellow would set you turning grind

stones!"

8. When I see a man hoisted into office by party spirit, without a single qualification to render him either respectable or useful, "Alas!" methinks, "deluded people, you are doomed for a season to turn the grindstone for a booby."

Benjamin Franklin.