On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song,
That light its rays shall cast
From portals of the past.
A lady with a lamp shall stand
In the great history of the land,
A noble type of good,
Heroic womanhood.
Nor even shall be wanting here
The palm, the lily, and the spear,
The symbols that of yore
St. Filomena bore.
THE LITTLE HATCHET STORY.
WITH OCCASIONAL QUESTIONS BY A FIVE-YEAR-OLD HEARER.
BY BURDETTE.
Mrs. Caruthers had left her infant prodigy, Clarence, in our care for
a little while that she might not be distracted by his innocent
prattle while selecting the material for a new gown.
He was a bright, intelligent boy, of five summers, with a commendable
thirst for knowledge, and a praiseworthy desire to understand what
was said to him.
We had described many deep and mysterious things to him, and to
escape the possibility of still more puzzling questions, offered to
tell him a story--_the_ story--the story of George Washington and his
little hatchet. After a few necessary preliminaries we proceeded.
"Well, one day, George's father--"
"George who?" asked Clarence.
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