I’ve told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
       Which Johnny Bull dislikes as “dull and stupid”—­what a pity! 
       With “Hail Columbia” it is sung, in chorus full and hearty—­
       On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea party,
       No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
       And where’s the fair can’t sing the air of Yankee doodle dandy? 
       Yankee doodle, firm and true—­Yankee doodle dandy—­
       Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!

* * * * *

The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a principle, “No taxation without representation.”  What did they mean by this?  Name the thirteen original colonies.

Are the last syllables of the words principle and principal pronounced alike?  Use the two words in sentences of your own.

What does “with heavy duties rated” mean?

Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words colonists, insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts, tempts.

Write the plural forms of the following words:  solo, echo, negro, cargo, piano, calico, potato, embargo.

How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room for all of it at the end of a line?  Illustrate by means of examples found in your Reader.

* * * * *

32

scenes source seized re ceive’ poised nec’ tar re verts’ Ju’ pi ter cat’ a ract ex’ qui site in tru’ sive ly

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
And every loved spot that my infancy knew;—­
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;

The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
And e’en the rude bucket which hung in the well: 
The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;
For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,
And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well: 
The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips! 
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.