Tom. Yes, madam; and a little improved perhaps since


you lost him.

Mr Dawson. Is it so?
Phillip. Yes, papa.

I have been punished for my conceit. What will you give to the friend who has cured me? Mr Dawson. A good reward, with all my

heart. Phillip [Taking Tom by the hand]. Well, then, here he is.

Mr Dawson. I will give him a pension for life for curing you.

Mrs Dawson. And I will double it, because he took care of you.

Tom. If you pay me for the pleasure you have, I must pay you for that I feel, so we are all quits.

Mr Dawson. No, no, my little friend, that will not do. But now we will all go and breakfast together, and Phillip shall tell us his adventures. [They go out, Phillip and Tom hand in hand.]



When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl

Tu-whit, tu-who, a merry note,

Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit, tu-who, a merry note,

greasy Joan doth keel the pot.


[Spell and write] gradually, destroyed, grandeur, suffocate, sufficient, opposite, partially, managed, extinguished, texture, triumph, perished.

The huge forests of America and Canada are being gradually destroyed by the woodman's axe, and still more rapidly by the fires that break out in them and destroy the trees for many miles. These fires break out from different causes ; sometimes lightning strikes a dry tree, sometimes a spark from a pipe falls on the dry grass, or a heap of brushwood being set on fire to clear it away, kindles the grass near, and the mischief is done. The undergrowth of the forest feeds the flames. They mount the fir-trees, which have turpentine in them and burn easily. The fire leaps from tree to tree; wild animals fly when they hear its roar. The


backwoodsman leaves his home and fields, and carries off his wife and children to seek safety. As the fire passes on, it leaves behind it black smoking ground, with bare trunks like charcoal

rising up from it: a most dreary scene where lately all was green

and fertile. No one who has not seen them can form an idea of the terrible grandeur of these fires. The clouds of smoke obscure the brightness of a noonday sun, and darken the country. They suffocate those whom they overtake with their hot breath; and to see their forked tongues leaping forward as if seeking more food, and to hear their roar as of a hungry monster calling for its prey, is to hear and see what will never be forgotten.

The best way to stop the fire is to set fire to some piece of land in front of it, that when it reaches it the flames may die out for want of food; but this is not easily done. The fire will dart across a wide space of clear ground, and begin burning on the other side before you are aware of it. A very broad river will sometimes stop it, but in other cases it has been known to cross over and burn for miles on the other side. One fire of this kind, some years ago, burned a hundred and forty miles of country on each side of a large river, and this fire was more than sixty miles in breadth. It is supposed that five hundred human. beings lost their lives in it. One


woodman had just built his log-hut, and was beginning to cut timber, when the fire broke out. He was told of it by some of his men who had passed through the wood to bring him food, but he thought nothing of it, till one of them, leaving the hut for a minute, came back hastily with the news that the fire was a bad one and within a mile of the hut. They instantly looked out, and as far as they could see, there was nothing but fire waving high above the forest. Its roar, like that of a huge furnace, was broken in upon from time to time by the crash of falling trees.

Not a moment was to be lost. Without staying to save anything, they ran to a small stream a little way off.


Some of them thought this would be a sufficient check to the flames, and so contented themselves with crossing it, and going a short distance down its opposite bank to a spot which they had partially cleared. The woodman, however, felt sure the fire would soon leap such a narrow stream, and resolved to stay in the water until the fearful enemy had passed by. He waded into it up to his shoulders, and stood under an overhanging bank to await his fate.

The flames advanced, burning up all before them, and filling the sky with a fearful glare. Their hot breath almost stifled the poor trembling man in the river. Another minute, and the trees overhead were alight, and he was obliged to plunge his head under water and keep it there as long as he could. When he was able once more to stand erect, the flames were still raging on before him, while behind were glowing trunks soon to die out for want of fuel. It was hours before he could leave his refuge with safety; but at last he managed to escape from the ruined neighbourhood. Happily, he had some food lying in a cellar which had not been injured, and this kept him from starving till he got beyond the blackened country. His companions were lost in the forest.

On one occasion a man's life was saved by one of these fires in a remarkable way. He had been riding about the prairie in search of a camp in which his comrades were expecting him, and had more than once lost his way. At last he came within sight of the camping-ground, and spurred his horse forward, pleased to think he should soon be among his friends.

No comrades were there to greet him; no living thing was to be seen. The dead body of an Indian lay across the extinguished fire, and all around were the marks of a deadly struggle. It was evident that the camp had been attacked by the savages, and his friends had been carried off. He followed in their tracks, and about a mile off, coming to a rising-ground, he saw below a large party of Indians camped upon the plain. They saw him too, and he turned his horse's head, and rode for his life. To make matters worse, they were mounted on his friends' horses, which he well knew were as good as his own. He turned to the wood for shelter, and the savages came yelling behind him. His horse was already weary, and there was little chance of his escaping, until near at hand rising clouds of smoke told him that the forest was on fire. If he could dash through the flaming woods he was safe. No Indian would dare to follow him there. At once he spurred forward to meet the fire. The smoke half suffocated him. He sprang from his horse, tore up his blanket, bound one piece over his horse's eyes, and with the other loosely covered his own face. This he knew would keep out the thickest smoke, while its coarse texture let in air enough to sustain life for a short time. Thus muffled he mounted again, and as the warwhoop of his fierce enemies sounded nearer, he spurred his poor beast into the fire. Scorching, crack

. ling, blazing as it was, he went through it for a few short moments of agony, and then found himself in the clear sweet air beyond. The blazing wood was passed, and tearing away their bandages, horse and rider were safe. Great was the triumph of the Indians as they saw them dash into the flame, for they felt sure both had perished. They were, indeed, half-dead with the heat and the thirst it created, but soon they reached a river,

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