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Leotard works. The front of the box can If you wish to place a glass in front of it either be painted, or a piece of white paper (which would certainly give it a more can be pasted over it to improve its appear-finished look) you can easily do so by getance, and if you have a taste for drawing, ting a glazier to cut you a piece the required you might paint some suitable background. size, and nailing four small pieces of wood We must now make our Leotard: to do at each corner of your stand, in order that which you must draw his, or any figure you the glass may not touch your Leotard, and choose, on a piece of cardboard; his head thus impede his movements; you should must be cut separate from his body; his then secure it with a little putty. You can knees, arms, legs, &c., must also be all now paste some brown or other paper over separate. These you must join together in the whole, in order to improve its appeartheir proper places with pieces of thin wire, ance; and, if you like, you can place a small giving all the parts plenty of play, as the stage over it, and which would certainly success of the most amusing performances add to the effect, and it is finished. much depends upon the freedom of the working of your figure, whose coat, &c., can be painted whatever colour or colours you like best. You must now fix your Leotard by placing the bar through his hands, to which (the bar) you must firmly fasten them, and your machine is nearly finished.

Though easy and inexpensive to make, this is really a capital and very amusing toy, if it deserves no better name; and I am sure you will never regret either the time or trouble you may have spent in making it. J. J. HISSEY.

THE BOY'S RECITER.

9. CŒUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER.* (Mrs. Hemans.)

An example of deep grief, amounting to anguish, in the expression of regret and remorse. The opening stanzas, however, exemplify sublimity and grandeur, tinged with deep gloom.

TORCHES were blazing clear,

Hymns pealing deep and slow, Where a king lay stately on his bier, In the church of Fontevraud. Banners of battle o'er him hung,

And warriors slept beneath,

And light, as Noon's broad light, was flung
On the settled face of death,—

On the settled face of death

A strong and ruddy glare, Though dimmed, at times, by the censer's breath,

Yet it fell still brightest there; *The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the Abbey church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Coeur-de-Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly reproached himself for that rebellious conduct which had been the means of bringing his father to an untimely grave.

As if each deeply-furrowed trace
Of earthly years to show,
Alas! that sceptred mortal's race
Had surely closed in woe!
The marble floor was swept

By many a long dark stole,
As the kneeling priests round him that slept,
Sang mass for the parted soul;
And solemn were the strains they poured
Through the stillness of the night,
With the cross above, and the crown and
sword,

And the silent king in sight.

There was heard a heavy clang,

As of steel-girt men the tread;

And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang
With a sounding thrill of dread;
And the holy chant was hushed awhile,

As, by the torches' flame,

A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle,
With a mail-clad leader came.

He came with haughty look,
An eagle-glance and clear,

But

his proud heart through its breast-plate shook,

When he stood beside the bier!

these permanently until the wheel is made; | prevents it from slipping or giving way. and here some little care and patience will Having fixed your axle securely, you must be required. Your wheel should be four make a hole for it in the front of your box, inches in diameter: to make it you must which you must take care to make not describe two circles of that size on a piece larger than is actually required for the free of cardboard, and then carefully cut them working of the parts. out with a pair of old scissors; these are the discs of your wheel, which you must take care to make smooth round the edges. The next thing to be done is to make the buckets, or rather compartments of the wheel; and great care will be required to get them all at equal distances, the best way to ensure which is to mark the places for them on both your discs. There should be eight compartments, and therefore you will have to mark eight divisions, to do which you must divide the discs, first into quarters, and then into half-quarters; the divisions must be made of cardboard, for which you must cut out eight pieces, each one inch long by three-quarters of an inch wide. You should fix these securely between your discs with short pins, after which you must carefully go round the crevices and joints with liquid glue, using an old feather or brush; this in order that no sand may get in between, and thus both escape and damage your wheel. You have now the divisions of your wheel fixed, but as it now is, the sand would fall through them-the partitions want a bottom to each. These can be made out of cardboard, which you must securely fix with glue at the bottom of each divisionyou must be careful not to leave any crevice through which the sand might work. In some places a little sealing-wax might be found useful; but if you can do without it, I should not advise you to use any, as a quantity of it would be apt to overbalance your wheel, having finished which to your satisfaction, we will proceed to make its axle, which goes through the front of the box and forms the bar on which our Leotard works. The axle consists of a piece of stout wire, which, if it were simply placed through the centre of your wheel, would be apt to slip and get loose; to guard against which we must first fix the axle in the centre Our machine is now all enclosed in the of an oblong piece of wood, and to receive box, only the end of the axle of the wheel which you must cut a square hole through projects through the front, and this forms, the centre of your wheel; this effectually as I before explained, the bar on which our

We have the two partitions already made, but not fixed, as before we secure them we shall have to make a hole for the sand to fall out of. This must be made a little to the left of the wheel; the whole should be two inches long and three-quarters of an inch wide. That is of course considerably larger than will be required for the sand to run out of; a part of it is, however, closed with a trap-door that prevents the sand from falling out, except through the proper place. The reason of this is, that when all your sand is run away from the top division you may turn your machine over, and the trap-door will give way and let the sand in, and thus set your wheel in motion again. The trap-door must be made out of a piece of leather, one end being tacked down either with small pins or tin tacks, thus making it to open like a door. You must, however, leave about a quarter of an inch space at the end, in order to allow the required quantity of sand to run out to turn your wheel. Having made your trap-door, you must make a small spout of cardboard from the spare space, in order to convey the sand to the wheel; the bottom partition must have a trap-door and spout precisely similar to the upper one, so that while the machine is in motion, the sand falling down will enter the lower division by the trapdoor, which, when you turn your machine over, prevents it from escaping, except through the spout. Thus, after the machine stops through all the sand being run out of the upper division, you will merely have to turn it over in order to set it in motion again. We must now fix the wheel, &c., and nail the back securely on; after which you must paste some brown paper round the edges, to prevent the sand from escaping through any corner or crevice.

Leotard works. The front of the box can | If you wish to place a glass in front of it either be painted, or a piece of white paper (which would certainly give it a more

can be pasted over it to improve its appearance, and if you have a taste for drawing, you might paint some suitable background. We must now make our Leotard: to do which you must draw his, or any figure you choose, on a piece of cardboard; his head must be cut separate from his body; his knees, arms, legs, &c., must also be all separate. These you must join together in their proper places with pieces of thin wire, giving all the parts plenty of play, as the success of the most amusing performances much depends upon the freedom of the working of your figure, whose coat, &c., can be painted whatever colour or colours you like best. You must now fix your Leotard by placing the bar through his hands, to which (the bar) you must firmly fasten them, and your machine is nearly finished.

finished look) you can easily do so by getting a glazier to cut you a piece the required size, and nailing four small pieces of wood at each corner of your stand, in order that the glass may not touch your Leotard, and thus impede his movements; you should then secure it with a little putty. You can now paste some brown or other paper over the whole, in order to improve its appearance; and, if you like, you can place a small stage over it, and which would certainly add to the effect, and it is finished.

Though easy and inexpensive to make, this is really a capital and very amusing toy, if it deserves no better name; and I am sure you will never regret either the time or trouble you may have spent in making it. J. J. HISSEY.

THE BOY'S RECITER.

9. CŒUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER.* (Mrs. Hemans.)

An example of deep grief, amounting to anguish, in the expression of regret and remorse. The opening stanzas, however, exemplify sublimity and grandeur, tinged with deep gloom.

TORCHES were blazing clear,

Hymns pealing deep and slow, Where a king lay stately on his bier, In the church of Fontevraud. Banners of battle o'er him hung,

And warriors slept beneath,

And light, as Noon's broad light, was flung On the settled face of death,—

On the settled face of death

A strong and ruddy glare,

Though dimmed, at times, by the censer's breath,

Yet it fell still brightest there; *The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the Abbey church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Coeur-de-Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly reproached himself for that rebellious conduct which had been the means of bringing his father to an untimely grave.

As if each deeply-furrowed trace
Of earthly years to show,
Alas! that sceptred mortal's race
Had surely closed in woe !
The marble floor was swept

By many a long dark stole,
As the kneeling priests round him that slept,
Sang mass for the parted soul;
And solemn were the strains they poured
Through the stillness of the night,
With the cross above, and the crown and
sword,

And the silent king in sight.

There was heard a heavy clang,

As of steel-girt men the tread; And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang With a sounding thrill of dread; And the holy chant was hushed awhile,

As, by the torches' flame,

A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle,
With a mail-clad leader came.

He came with haughty look,
An eagle-glance and clear,

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He stood there still with a drooping brow,
And clasped hands o'er it raised ;-
For his father lay before him low,
It was Coeur-de-Lion gazed!

And silently he strove

With the workings of his breast, But there's more in late repentant love Than steel may keep suppressed! And his tears brake forth, at last, like rain;

Men held their breath in awe,

For his face was seen by his warrior-train, And he recked not that they saw.

He looked upon the dead,

And sorrow seemed to lie,

A weight of sorrow, even like lead,
Pale on the fast-shut eye.

He stooped and kissed the frozen cheek,
And the heavy hand of clay,
Till bursting words, yet all too weak,-
Gave his soul's passion way.

"Oh, father! is it vain,

This late remorse and deep?

Speak to me, father! once again, behold, I weep!

I weep,

Alas! my guilty pride and ire!

Were but this work undone,

I would give England's crown, my sire! To hear thee bless thy son.

66 Speak to me! mighty grief

Ere now the dust hath stirred! Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief, My king! I must be heard! Hushed, hushed-how is it that I call, And that thou answerest not? 'When was it thus?- Woe, woe for all The love my soul forgot!

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'Thy silver hairs I see,
So still, so sadly bright!

And father, father! but for me,

They had not been so white!

I bore thee down, high heart! at last,
No longer couldst thou strive;
Oh! for one moment of the past,
To kneel and say, 'Forgive!"

"Thou wert the noblest king,

On royal throne e'er seen;

And thou didst wear, in knightly ring, Of all the stateliest mien;

And thou didst prove, where spears proved

In war the bravest heart,

-Oh! ever the renowned and loved Thou wert,- and there thou art!

"Thou that my boyhood's guide Didst take fond joy to be!. The times I've sported at thy side, And climbed thy parent knee!

are

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10. THE GRAVE OF KÖRNER.
(Mrs. Hemans.)

GREEN wave the oak for ever o'er thy rest! Thou that beneath its crowning foliage sleepest,

And, in the stillness of thy country's breast, Thy place of memory, as an altar, keepest: Brightly the spirit o'er her hills was poured, Thou of the lyre and sword!

Rest, bard! rest, soldier!- By the father's hand

Here shall the child of after years be led, With his wreath-offering silently to stand In the hushed presence of the glorious dead, Soldier and bard! For thou thy path hast trod

With Freedom and with God.

The oak waved proudly o'er thy burial rite; On thy crowned bier to slumber warriors bore thee;

And with true hearts, thy brethren of the fight

Wept as they veiled their drooping banners o'er thee;

And the deep guns, with rolling peal gave

token

That lyre and sword were broken. Thou hast a hero's tomb !-A lowlier bed

Is hers, the gentle girl beside thee lying, The gentle girl, that bowed her fair young head,

When thou wert gone, in silent sorrow' dying.

Brother!-true friend!-the tender and the brave!

She pined to share thy grave.

* Charles Theodore Korner, the young German poet and soldier, was killed in a skirmish with a detachment of French troops on the 26th of August, 1813, a few hours after the composition of his most popular piece, "The Sword Song." He was buried under a beautiful oak, in a recess of which he had frequently deposited. verses composed by him while campaigning in its vicinity. The monument erected to his memory, beneath this tree, is of cast iron, and the upper part is wrought into a lyre and sword, a favourite emblem of Korner's, from which one of his works had been entitled.

Near the grave of the poet is that of his only sister, who died of grief for his loss, having survived him only long enough to complete his portrait and a drawing of his burial-place. Over the gate of the cemetery is engraved one of his own lines, "Forget not the faithful dead."

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What, then, was left for her, the faithfulhearted ?

Death, death, to still the yearning for the dead!

The sage Professor said,
Then went to bed;

quite fatigued with having made so great a

Discovery, three several strata,Sheet, blanket, counterpane,-pulled o'er his head;

And thus enveloped from the crown to toes,
His nose

Soon gave sonorous symptoms of a doze:
Heavy his respiration was and thick.
He had begun to lose

His senses in a most delicious snooze, When from beneath the bed up jumped

Old Nick!

"Hillo!" quoth Satan, "Doctor, how d'ye do ?"

Roused by the diabolic "Hillo!"
The savant grumbled from his pillow,

Softly she perished. Be the flower de- In phrase, of late endemic,—"Who are you?"

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