Page 432 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...

Oh, dearest Lucy, pity m e!
I really think I’m dying!
My heart is like a heart of lead;
M y eyes are red with crying 1
For yesterday the bank was robbed,
And of a. large am ount!
My father caught the robber
And— oh, dear, it was my Count!

M ICKEY COACHES HIS FATHER,
T ’M thinkin',” said Mr. Finn to his son Mickcy, as they sat on
the back stoop after supper, "that I’ll be givin’ up workin’ in
the quarry an’ thry me hand at brain work.”

“ Piggerin’ ?”
f< Figgerin* or writin'. Now, you have no knowledge, Mickey—
fwat kind o' sums would I have to be doin’ if I got the job o’ s ’aler o'
weights and measures? "
“ It’s the sums ye’d have to be doin’ afore ye got the job as 'ud
bother ye, father. Shure the civil service min 'ud be axin’ ye ques­
tions that the schoolmaster couldn’t answer/'
“ Mush a, I didn’t know that, me b Jy- Fwhat's the civil sarviee min,
anyhow?”
“ They’re min as is paid by the prisidint furax'in' foolish questions,”
replied little Mike, ‘‘an’ I liave a buke in the house as has a lot o’ the
questions in, If ye’ll come inside I'll l’arn thim to ye.”
Mr. Finn arose with alacrity, lit the lamp and placed it upon the
table. Then he lit his pipe and waited impatiently while his son

hunted up a book on natural phenomena he had procured from the
school library. While Mickey leafed through the book, Mr. Finn said:
“ Now, you tache me the questions be heart, an' yc‘11 not be sorry
whin I get the job."
1 ‘ Why don’t the dust fly be night? " said Mickcy, from the chapter
on <J Dew,”