And her friends all mysteriously said "it was Time.' Oh, go! Father Time! Fie! Father Time! Oh! what a crime! Fie! Father Time!

LESSON CIX.

FAIRY TIMES.

The following pretty tribute to times, the return of which will be prevented by the advancement of mankind in knowledge and science, appears best when spoken by a young pupil. The author is unknown to the Editor.

They may talk as they will, but the fairy times
Were the pleasantest times of all,

When up from their dwellings a few dark rhymes
The geniï of earth could call.

O! from my heart how I'd pray and vow,

If rhymes had but half such virtue now.

Where is the cave, like that dark one, damp,
Where the gold and the silver shone?
And what is the brightest Grecian camp
To Aladdin's wonderful one?

And the modern slippers,-what are they, alas !
To the godmother fairy's slippers of glass ?

O! for the days when giants were rife,
With their towers and painted halls,
And heroes, each with a charmëd life,
Rode up to their castle walls,

And knocked with a loud and dreadful clang,

Till the roofs and the gates, and the wild woods rang.

When the good and the fair as the wizard hand stirred
Were bound in a dreamy spell,

When maidens spoke, and, at each sweet word,
Diamonds and roses fell,

I wonder if any lady now

Could open her lips and let diamonds flow?

When gentle and bright ones with golden hair
Were wooed by princes in green;
And knights with invisible caps to wear,
Could see and not be seen—

Are any such knights in green and blue
To be met with now ?-I wish I knew.

Oh talk as they will, but the fairy times
Were the pleasantest times of all,
When up from their dwellings a few dark rhymes
The geniï of earth could call.

And O! how I wish that rhymes again
Had one half of the power that they had then.

LESSON CX.

THE LOVE OF MAN A STEP TO THE LOVE OF GOD.

The following APOLOGUE, or Moral Fable, is a gem, but the Editor is unacquainted with its owner. It is an imitation of the Oriental style of composition.

"Abon Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel, writing in a book of gold.—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,

"What writest thou ?"-The vision raised its head,

And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, "the names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one ?" said Abon. " Nay, not so," Replied the angel, Abon spoke more low,

But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."

The angel wrote, and vanished.

"The next night

It came again, with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest."

LESSON CXI.

THE MUSQUETO.

The following lines are by M'JILTON. They may be spoken by quite a small child.

Begone you starveling, ill-starred creature,
So lank of limb and gaunt of feature,
You luckless, witless, foolish thing!
How dare you enter one's upstairs,
And get upon his ears to sing?
And whether he's at books or prayers,
You come with your eternal song
Whu-u-a-what, and who can read,
Or pray with any kind of speed?

You spider legged imp! go 'long!

You tap the saint as well as sinner,
And good or bad—its for your dinner;
Their carcasses seem all the same,
And you are no philosopher,

To cant and quibble o'er a name,
And grumble when a word you hear
Expressed a little out of rule.
In this the world you imitate,—
You rob both rich and desolate,

Nor for the wise forsake the fool.

;

To rhyme much more, its not for me to
About your manners, friend Musqueto,
I've had about as much to do
With you and yours, as I could wish
And now I must insist that you
Will go elsewhere and seek a dish;
For past misdoings, no amends
Forever will I ask of thee,-

But if again you visit me,

I hope you'll not invite your friends.

LESSON CXII.

THE KATYDID.

The Katydid is an insect not uncommon in New England, whose name is derived from the noise it makes in the evening. The lines are from the witty pen of Dr. O. W. HOLMES.

I love to hear thine earnest voice,

Wherever thou art hid,

Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!

Thou 'mindest me of gentle folks--
Old gentle folks are they-
Thou sayest an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.

Thou art a female Katydid!

I know it by the trill

That quivers through thy piercing notes,
So petulant and shrill.

I think there is a knot of you
Beneath the hollow tree-

A knot of spinster Katydids-
Do Katydids drink tea?

O tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too?
Did Katy love a naughty man,

Or kiss more cheeks than one?
I warrant Katy did no more

Than many a Kate has done.

Dear me! I'll tell you all about
My fuss with little Jane

And Ann, with whom I used to walk

So often down the lane;

And all that tore their locks of black
Or wet their eyes of blue—
If you will tell, sweet Katydid,
What did poor Katy do ?

Ah no! the living oak shall crash,
That stood for ages still;
The rock shall rend its mossy base,
And thunder down the hill,
Before the little Katydid

Shall add one word, to tell

The mystic story of the maid,

Whose name she knows so well.

Peace to the ever murmuring race,
And when the latest one

Shall fold in death her feeble wings,
Beneath the autumn sun,

Then shall she raise her fainting voice
And lift her drooping lid,

And then the child of future years

May hear what Katy did.