“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.
* * * * *
scared swerve gur’ gle rip’ ples cur’ rent mum’ bling ly
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!
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.
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.
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.
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!