“The head of what?” said Growler.
“How inquisitive you are!” said the gray
cat.
“Nay, but I should like to know,” said
Growler.
“Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was
meant for dinner.”
“Then,” said Growler, “say what
you please; but, now that I’ve heard the whole
story, I only wonder she did not hang you.”
* * * *
*
Fill the following blanks with words that will make
complete sentences:
Mary — here, and Susan and Agnes —
coming. They — delayed on the road.
Mother — to come with them, but she and
father — obliged to wait till to-morrow.
Puss said to Growler, “I — not —
a drop of milk to-day, and — not —
any yesterday.”
I — my work well now. Yesterday I
— it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
— it perfectly.
The boys — their best, though they —
the game.
John—now the boys he — last
week. He — not — them before.
NOTE.—Let two pupils read or recite the
conversational parts of this selection, omitting the
explanatory matter, while the other pupils simply
listen. If done with expressive feeling and in
a perfectly natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting
exercise. To play or act the story of a selection
helps to develop the imagination.
* * * *
*
14
scared swerve gur’ gle rip’ ples cur’
rent mum’ bling ly
Little brook!
Little brook!
You have
such a happy look—
Such a very
merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook—
And your
ripples, one and one,
Reach each
other’s hands and run
Like laughing
little children in the sun!
Little brook,
sing to me;
Sing about
the bumblebee
That tumbled
from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
Because
he wet the film
Of his wings,
and had to swim,
While the
water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
Little brook—sing
a song
Of a leaf
that sailed along
Down the
golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
And a dragon
fly that lit
On the tilting
rim of it,
And rode
away and wasn’t scared a bit.
And sing—how
oft in glee
Came a truant
boy like me,
Who loved
to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
Till the
gurgle and refrain
Of your
music in his brain
Wrought
a happiness as keen to him as pain.
Little brook—laugh
and leap!
Do not let
the dreamer weep:
Sing him
all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
And then
sing soft and low
Through
his dreams of long ago—
Sing back
to him the rest he used to know!
