The New American Third Reader

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E.H. Butler, 1871 - Readers - 144 pages

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Page 124 - I can't do much yet; but I'll do what I can; It's well I began ! For unless I can manage to lift up my head, The people will think that the Spring herself s dead.
Page 124 - Now then," thought Daffy, deep down in her heart, "It's time I should start." So she pushed her soft leaves through the hard frozen ground, Quite up to the surface — and then she looked round.
Page 93 - BUZZ! buzz! buzz! This is the song of the bee. His legs are of yellow ; A jolly, good fellow, And yet a great worker is he.
Page 29 - Under the green hedges after the snow, There do the dear little violets grow, Hiding their modest and beautiful heads Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds. Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky, Down there do the dear little violets lie ; Hiding their heads where they scarce may be seen, By the leaves you may know where the violet hath been.
Page 59 - THE CRUST OF BREAD I MUST not throw upon the floor The crust I cannot eat; For many little hungry ones Would think it quite a treat.
Page 116 - These hardy little horses are never stabled ; the side of a house, or of a stone wall, is all the shelter they receive ; and many of their companions are left to do as they best may on their native hills and shores, receiving, during a long snow, a handful of hay or straw once every two or three days, and sustaining their life chiefly by seeking the beach, and eating the drift sea-weed, of which cows are also fond, and eat freely.
Page 119 - A week is seven days — Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Sunday is the first day of the week, and it is called the Sabbath day, because it is the day of rest.
Page 25 - I have two hands, so soft and white— This is the left, and this the right; Five little fingers stand on each, With which to hold, to feel, and reach; But when I grow as tall as you, A deal of work they then will do.
Page 125 - So, little by little, She brought her leaves out, All clustered about ; And then her bright flowers Began to unfold, Till Daffy stood robed In her spring green and gold. O...
Page 14 - Do you see that old beggar that stands at the door ? Do not send him away — we must pity the poor. Oh, see how he shivers ! he's hungry and cold ! For people can't work when they grow very old. Go set near the fire a table and seat : And Betty shall bring him some bread and some meat. I hope my dear children will always be kind, Whenever they meet with the aged and blind.

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