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in sight; it was necessary to carry the position with one final charge, or everything would be lost. A powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, and, if it came up in time, all would yet be right. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve into an attacking column, and led them down the hill. The whole world knows the result. Grouchy failed to appear; the imperial guard was beaten back; Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena, because one of his marshals was behind time.

A leading firm in commercial circles had long struggled against bankruptcy. As it had enormous assets in California, it expected remittances by a certain day; and if the sums promised arrived, its credit, its honour, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed without bringing the gold. At last came the fatal day on which the firm had enormous amounts to meet. The steamer was telegraphed at day-break; but it was found on inquiry that she brought no funds; and the house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half-a-million to the insolvents, but it was too late; they were ruined because their agent, in remitting, had been behind time.

A condemned man was led out for execution. He had taken human life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation, and public

L

sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a reprieve, a favourable answer had been expected the night before, and, though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive in time. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of the messenger. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn and a lifeless body hung suspended in the air. Just at that moment a horseman came into sight, galloping down the hill, his steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved to the crowd. express rider with the reprieve.

He was the But he had

come too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death because a watch had been five minutes behind time, making its bearer arrive too late.

It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important affairs, honour, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed, because somebody is "behind time." There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are "behind time." There are others who put off reformation year after year, till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, behind time.”

because for ever

FREEMAN HUNT.

Waterloo. The battle of Waterloo, at which Napoleon was completely defeated by Wellington, was fought in 1815. Grouchy had been sent in pursuit of the Prussians, and failed to reach Waterloo in time.

St. Helena.-The small island in the Atlantic to which Napoleon was banished after Waterloo, and in which he died.

4.

QUESTIONS.-1. What led to the collision spoken of in the lesson? 2. What are re-inforcements? What is a reserve? Who was Grouchy? 5. How did he contribute to Bonaparte's defeat at Waterloo? 6. Where is St. Helena? What is it to be bankrupt? 8. What is meant by sending remittances? 9. Who is a sheriff? 10. What is the drop and the bolt? 11. What is an express rider? 12. What is a reprieve?

LESSON XLI.

The Song of the Shirt.

be-numb'-ed, rendered stupid,

useless.

chime to chime, hour to hour. dol'-or-ous, full of sorrow and

sadness.

flags, stops, is never at an end. gris'-ly, ghastly, horrible.

phan'-tom, ghost, spectre.
pitch, tone, accent.
ply'-ing, working busily with.
res'-pite, rest, intermission
from work.

shroud, winding-sheet, grave-
twit, mock.

WITH fingers weary and worn,

With eyelids heavy and red,

A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread—
Stitch-stitch-stitch!

[clothes.

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,

And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the "Song of the Shirt!"

Work work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work-work-work,

Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's oh! to be a slave

Along with the barbarous Turk,

Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work!

"Work-work-work

Till the brain begins to swim;
Work-work-work

Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!

"O Men! with Sisters dear!

O Men! with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out,

But human creatures' lives!

Stitch-stitch-stitch,

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt.

"But why do I talk of Death?
That phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
It seems so like my own-
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;

O God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

"Work-work-work!

My labour never flags;

And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread-and rags.

That shattered roof,—and this naked floor,

A table, a broken chair,

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And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank

For sometimes falling there!

'Work-work-work! From weary chime to chime, Work—work—work—

As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band,

Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed,

As well as the weary hand.

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