McGuffey's Fifth Eclectic Reader

1. Oh! the old, old clock of the household stock, Was the brightest thing, and neatest; Its hands, though old, had a touch of gold, And its chimes rang still the sweetest; 'T wa...

Tell. What is 't to me? A little thing. A very little thing; a yard or two Is nothing here or there--were it a wolf I shot at! Never mind.

Ges. Can I believe My eyes? He smiles! Nay, grasps His chains as he would make a weapon of them To lay the smiter dead. (To Tell.) Why speakest thou not?