When mortals are at rest,
And snoring in their nest;
Unheard, and unespied,

Through keyholes we do glide;
Over tables, stools, and shelves,
We trip it with our fairy elves.
And if the house be foul
With platter, dish or bowl,
Up-stairs we nimbly creep,
And find the sluts asleep;

There we pinch their arms and thighs;
None escapes, nor none espies.

But if the house be swept,
And from uncleanness kept,
We praise the household maid,
And duly she is paid;

For we use, before we go,
To drop a tester in her shoe.
Upon a mushroom's head
Our table-cloth we spread;
A grain of rye or wheat,
Is manchet* which we eat ;
Pearly drops of dew we drink,
In acorn cups fill'd to the brink.

* Food.

The brains of nightingales,
With unctuous* fat of snails,
Between two cockles stew'd,

Is meat that's easily chew'd;
Tails of worms and marrow of mice,
Do make a dish that's wond'rous nice.
The grasshopper, gnat, and fly,
Serve us for our minstrelsy;
Grace said, we dance awhile,
And so the time beguile;
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The glow-worm lights us home to bed.
On tops of dewy grass
So nimbly do we pass,
The young and tender stalk
Ne'er bends when we do walk;

Yet in the morning may be seen,
Where we the night before have been.

LADY LUCY'S PETITION.

HARVEY NEWCOMB. The following exquisite little tale of filial duty is from the pen of the tasteful author of "Anecdotes for Boys and Girls." It may safely be left to speak for its own merits, and for those of its adapter.

THE following touching narrative of an historical fact contains such a beautiful illustration of filial piety as to need no comment. When I commenced this book, one of my children, on learning my intentions, inquired, "Father, are you going to make comments on your anecdotes, or leave them to tell their own story?" In regard to this one I shall leave it to tell its own story.

James II., King of England, was a great tyrant. He disregarded the constitution and laws of England, and undertook to exereise arbitrary and absolute power. Among other tyrannical and oppressive measures, he tried to restore Popery as the established religion. The people of England could not bear these things; and they entered into a negotiation with William, Prince of Orange, who had married the king's daughter, Mary, to come over from Holland with an army,

* Rich, oily.

when they all joined him, and King James was obliged to leave the country; after which the Parliament raised William and Mary to the throne. James and his friends made several ineffectual attempts to recover his crown. In one of these attempts, Lord Preston was engaged; and being taken, was condemned to die. His little daughter, Lucy, was taken by her nurse, Amy Gradwell, to visit her father in the Tower before his execution. As the coach drove up before the prison, the little Lady Lucy raised her eyes fearfully to the Tower, and exclaimed, "And is my dear рара shut up in this dismal place, to which you are taking me, nurse?" When they alighted, and she saw the soldiers on guard, and the sentinels before the prison, she trembled and hid her face in Amy's cloak. "Yes, my dear child," replied her nurse; "my lord, your father, is indeed within these sad walls. You are now going to visit him. Are you afraid to enter this place, my dear ?" "No;" replied Lady Lucy, resolutely, "I am not afraid of going to any place where my dear papa is." Yet she clung closer to the arm of her attendant as she entered the gloomy precincts of the building, and her little heart fluttered fearfully as she glanced around her; and she whispered to her nurse, "Was it not here that the two young princes, Edward V. and his brother, Richard, Duke of York, were murdered by their cruel uncle, Richard, Duke of Gloucester?" "Yes, my love, it was; but do not be alarmed on that account, for no one will harm you,' said Amy, in an encouraging tone. "And was not good Henry VI. murdered, also, by the same wicked Richard?" continued the little

وو

girl, whose imagination had been filled with the deeds of blood that had been perpetrated in this fatally-celebrated place, many of which had been related to her by Bridget, the housekeeper, since her father had been imprisoned in the Tower, on the charge of high treason.

"But do you think they will murder papa, nurse?" "Hush! hush! dear child, you must not talk these things here," said Amy, "or they will shut us both up in a room with bolts and bars, instead of admitting us to see my lord, your father."

Lady Lucy pressed closer to her nurse's side, and was silent till they were ushered into the room where her father was confined; when, forgetting everything else in the joy of seeing him again, she sprang into his arms and almost stifled him with her kisses. Lord Preston was greatly affected at the sight of his little daughter; and, overcome by her passionate expressions of fondness, his own anguish at the thought of being separated from her by death, and the idea of leaving her an orphan at the tender age of nine years, he clasped her to his bosom, and bedewed her face with his tears. "Why do you cry, my dear papa ?" asked Lucy, who was herself weeping at the sight of his distress. "And why do you not leave this gloomy place, and come home to your own hall again ?"

"Attend to me, Lucy," said her father, “and I will tell you the cause of my grief; I shall never come home again, for I have been condemned to die for high treason; and I shall not leave this place till they bring me forth to Tower Hill, where they will cut off my head with a sharp axe, and set it up afterwards over Temple Bar, or London Bridge."

At this terrible intelligence, Lucy screamed aloud, and hid her face in her father's bosom, which she wet with her tears. Be composed, my dear child," said her father, "for I have much to say to you; and we may never meet again in this world." 'No, no, dear papa! they shall not kill you; for I will cling so fast about your neck that they cannot cut your head off; and I will tell them all how good and kind you are, and then they will not want to kill you." "My dearest love, all this will be of no use," said her father; "I have offended against the law, by trying to have my old master, King James, restored to the throne. Lucy, do you not remember that I once took you to Whitehall to see King James, and how kindly he spoke to you ?"

"Oh, yes, papa! I recollect he laid his hand on my head, and said I was like his daughter, the Princess of Orange, was at my age," replied Lucy, with great animation.

Well, my child, very soon after you saw King James at White

hall, the Prince of Orange, who had married his daughter, came over to England, and drove King James out of his palace and kingdom; and the people made him and the Princess of Orange king and queen in his stead."

"But was it not very wicked of the Princess to take her father's kingdom away from him? I am very sorry King James thought me like her," said Lucy, earnestly.

Hush, hush, my love! You must not speak so of the Queen. Perhaps she thought she was doing right to deprive her father of his kingdom, because he had embraced the Catholic religion; and it is against the law for a King of England to be a Catholic. Yet, I confess, I did not think she would consent to sign the death-warrant of so many of her father's old servants, only on account of their faithful attachment to him," said he, with a sigh.

"I have heard that the Princess of Orange is of a merciful disposition," said old Amy Gradwell, "and perhaps she might be induced to spare your life, my lord, if your pardon were earnestly entreated of her by some of your friends."

"Alas! my good Amy, no one will undertake the perilous office of pleading for a traitor, lest he should be suspected of favouring King James."

"Dear papa, let me go to the Queen, and beg your pardon," cried Lucy, with a crimsoned cheek and sparkling eye. "I will so beg and pray her to spare your life, dear father, that she will not have the heart to deny me.'

"Dear simple child! What could you say to the Queen that would be of any avail ?"

66

"God would teach me what to say," replied Lucy. Her father clasped her to his bosom. But," said he, "thou wouldst be afraid of speaking to the Queen, even should you be admitted to her presence, my child."

Why should I be afraid of speaking to her, papa ? Should she be angry with me, and answer me harshly, I shall be thinking too much of you to care about it; and if she should send me to the Tower, and cut off my head, God will take care of my immortal soul."

"You are right, my child, to fear God, and have no other fear. He, perhaps, has put it into thy little heart to plead for thy father's life; which if it be his pleasure to grant, I shall indeed feel it a happiness that my child should be the instrument of my deliverance. If it should be otherwise, God's will be done. He will not forsake my good and dutiful one, when I am laid low in the dust."