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state of mind did he return home? Why was he willing to let
the shepherd personate him? How did the shepherd answer
the questions? What result did his answers produce? Com-
ment on line 62. Was the old shepherd a fool?
Do you
think this story could be justly called a "combat of wits"?

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THE SHANDON BELLS

FRANCIS SYLVESTER MAHONY

With deep affection

And recollection

I often think of

Those Shandon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle
Their magic spells.
On this I ponder
Where'er I wander

And thus grow fonder,

Sweet Cork, of thee;
With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on

The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

I've heard bells chiming
Full many a clime in,
Tolling sublime in

Cathedral shrine,

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While at a glibe rate

Brass tongues would vibrate-
But all their music

Spoke naught like thine;

For memory dwelling
On each proud swelling
Of the belfry, knelling

Its bold notes free,

Made the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

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I've heard bells tolling
Old "Adrian's Mole" in,
Their thunder rolling

From the Vatican,
And cymbals glorious
Swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets
Of Nôtre Dame;

But thy sounds were sweeter
Than the dome of Peter
Flings o'er the Tiber,

Pealing solemnly;

O! the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

There's a bell in Moscow;

While on tower and kiosk O!

In Saint Sophia

The Turkman gets,

And loud in air

Calls men to prayer,
From the tapering summit

Of tall minarets.
Such empty phantom
I freely grant them;

But there is an anthem

More dear to me,—
'Tis the bells of Shandon,

That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters

Of the river Lee.

GLOSSARY. Shandon; Cork; shrine; Adrian's Mole; Vatican; Nôtre Dame; Peter; Tiber; Moscow; kiosk; Saint Sophia; minarets; phantom.

STUDY. When did the writer first grow acquainted with the bells of Shandon? What other famous bells did he afterwards hear? How did they impress him in comparison? Do you think the old saying, "First impressions are lasting," gives some clew to the explanation? (The very music of the bells is suggested in the rhythm and may be brought out in the reading.)

THE SMUDGE

HENRY VAN DYKE

To what it owes its English name I do not know; but its French name means simply a thick, nauseating, intolerable smoke.

The smudge is called into being for the express purpose of creating a smoke of this kind, which is as disagreeable to the mosquito, the black-fly, and the midge as it is to the man whom they are devouring. But the man survives the smoke, while the insects succumb to it, being destroyed or driven away. Therefore the smudge, dark and bitter in itself, frequently 10 becomes, like adversity, sweet in its uses. It must be regarded as a form of fire with which man has made friends under the pressure of a cruel necessity.

It would seem as if it ought to be the simplest

18 affair in the world to light up a smudge. And so it is-if you are not trying.

An attempt to produce almost any other kind of a fire will bring forth smoke abundantly. But when you deliberately undertake to create a smudge, 20 flames break from the wettest timber, and green moss blazes with a furious heat. You hastily gather handfuls of seemingly incombustible material and throw it on the fire, but the conflagration increases. Grass and green leaves hesitate for an instant and 25 then flash up like tinder. The more you put on, the more your smudge rebels against its proper task of smudging. It makes a pleasant warmth, to encourage the black-flies; and bright light to attract and cheer the mosquitoes. Your effort is a brilliant failure.

30

The proper way to make a smudge is this. Begin with a very little, lowly fire. Let it be bright, but not ambitious. Don't try to make a smoke yet.

Then gather a good supply of stuff which seems likely to suppress fire without smothering it. Moss 35 of a certain kind will do, but not the soft, feathery moss that grows so deep among the spruce trees. Half-decayed wood is good; spongy, moist, unpleasant stuff, a vegetable wet blanket. The bark of dead evergreen trees, hemlock, spruce, or balsam, is better 40 still. Gather a plentiful store of it. But don't try

to make a smoke yet.

Let your fire burn a while longer; cheer it up a little. Get some clear, resolute, unquenchable coals aglow in the heart of it. Don't try to make a smoke yet.

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