And the good-natured ant who assisted his brother

May teach those who choose to be taught, That if little insects are kind to each other, Then children most certainly ought.

JANE TAYLOR.

THE LADY-BIRD AND THE ANT.

HE lady-bird sat in the rose's heart,

And smiled with pride and scorn,

As she saw a plain-dressed ant go by,

With a heavy grain of corn.

So she drew the curtains of damask round,

And adjusted her silken vest,

Making her glass of a drop of dew

That lay in the rose's breast.

Then she laughed so loud that the ant looked up,

And seeing her haughty face,

Took no more notice, but travelled on

At the same industrious pace.

But a sudden blast of autumn came,

And rudely swept the ground,

And down the rose with the lady-bird bent
And scattered its leaves around.

Then the houseless lady was much amazed
For she knew not where to go,

And hoarse November's early blast

Had brought with it rain and snow:

Her wings were chilled and her feet were cold,
And she wished for the ant's warm cell-

And what she did in the wintry storm

I am sure I cannot tell.

The Spider and the Fly.

But the careful ant was in her nest,

With her little ones by her side,

She taught them all like herself to toil,
Nor mind the sneer of pride;

And I thought, as I sat at the close of day,
Eating my bread and milk,

It was wiser to work and improve my time,

Than be idle and dress in silk.

L. H. SIGOURNEY.

53

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.

ILL you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly;

"Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you

did spy;

The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,

And I have many curious things to show when you are there.” "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down

again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly, “There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,

And if you like to rest awhile I'll snugly tuck you in!" "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it

said,

They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!" Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend, what can

I do,

To prove the warm affection I have always felt for you?

I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome, will you please to take a slice?" "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be, I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!" “Sweet creature!” said the Spider, "you're witty and you're

wise,

How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your

eyes:

I have a little looking glass upon my parlour shelf,

If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself." "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased

to say,

And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day." The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again; So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly

And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly,

Then he came out to his door again and merrily did sing, "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver

wing;

Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your

head;

Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas! alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head, poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast,
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour, but she ne'er came out again!
And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:

The Butterfly's Ball.

Unto an evil counsellor close heart and ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly. MARY HOWITT.

55

THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.

OME take up your hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly's ball and the Grasshopper's
feast;

The trumpeter Gadfly has summoned the crew,
And the revels are now only waiting for you.

On the smooth shaven grass by the side of the wood,
Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,
See the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
For an evening's amusement together repair.

And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back;
And there was the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,
With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.

And there came the Moth in his plumage of down,
And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown,
Who with him the Wasp his companion did bring,
But they promised that evening to lay by their sting.

And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole,
And led to the feast his blind brother the Mole;
And the Snail, with his horns peeping out from his shell,
Came from a great distance—the length of an ell.

A mushroom their table, and on it was laid
A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made;

The viands were various, to each of their taste,
And the Bee brought his honey to crown the repast.

There, close on his haunches, so solemn and wise,
The Frog from a corner looked up to the skies;
And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversion to see,
Sat cracking his nuts overhead in a tree.

Then out came the Spider, with fingers so fine,
To show his dexterity on the tight line;

From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung,
Then as quick as an arrow he darted along.

But just in the middle, oh! shocking to tell!
From his rope in an instant poor Harlequin fell;
Yet he touched not the ground, but with talons outspread,
Hung suspended in air at the end of a thread.

Then the Grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring, Very long was his leg, though but short was his wing, He took but three leaps and was soon out of sight, Then chirped his own praises the rest of the night.

With step so majestic, the Snail did advance,

And promised the gazers a minuet to dance;

But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head, And went into his own little chamber to bed.

Then as evening gave way to the shadows of night,
The watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his light;
Then home let us hasten while yet we can see,
For no watchman is waiting for you and for me.

ROSCOE.