MOUSYLINA was witty, and pretty, and wild,
And not much unlike a noisy pet child;

By indulgence quite spoilt, she gave herself airs,
And always was running to wakes and to fairs;

But her mother she saw,—and she saw it with dread,—

The fatality hanging o'er poor Mousy's head;

So she call'd the wild chit, and took her aside,

And exclaimed, "My dear Mousy, I've reason to chide!
No mouse in the land, go wherever you please,
Feeds, like yourself, on the best Stilton cheese.
You know, dearest Mousy, you help'd me begin it,
And now we have eaten a doorway quite in it.
By-the-bye, this day week I shall give there a rout—
But it is not of that I'd be talking about.

Now, put down your paw, nor cry out 'oh, dear!'
You shall keep your foot, Mousy, out of your ear;
Such a frisky young thing I ne'er saw in my life,
And I pity the mouse who shall take you to wife.
For my own part, I cannot think what you'd be at ;—
But you learnt all these tricks of the mischievous Rat.
That's right, dear Miss Surly, now whimper and cry,
And give me, my sweetest, a good reason why."

"I won't, and I shan't,-no, no, mother, indeed!
To be snubbing of me, I don't see any need;
Look round, and Catina the wilful, you'll see,
Is ten times more wanton and wicked than me;
And mortals still make that savage their pet,
But you are more savage your Mousy to fret.”

At this moment Catina was passing that way-
He seiz'd Mousylina and made her his prey.

For mercy she cried, but the Cat took no heed,
And exclaim'd, ""Tis for boldness, Miss Mousy, you

bleed.

6

For your won't' and your 'shan't,' wicked Mousy, you

pay,

Whilst your mother I suffer to run far away."

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Just the same with young folks, when they say “I

don't care!"

For which they will fall into some frightful snare.

The way to grow wise is to do as you're bid,

And all such good children will never be chid!

A SHEPHERD Boy, at break of day,

Drove forth his sheep with honest Tray-
A dog not overfam'd for beauty,

But one who always did his duty.

On they rov'd, o'er moor and mountain,
'Till they reach'd a crystal fountain,
Which threw its spray among the rocks
Where shepherds wash their snowy flocks,
And shear and bleach their fleecy coats,
'Till winter's sky a change denotes.

And there he paus'd, and said to Tray,
"My trusty friend, I must away!
My business calls, and I must go,—
Where avails not you to know,—
And while I'm gone, on no pretence,
Do you attempt to stir from hence ;

For if you should, the fox so bold
Will surely leap into the fold.

Our sheep he'll scare, our lambs destroy,

And all will blame the Shepherd Boy!"

Away he went, and left

poor Tray,

Who gave a look which seem'd to say,

"Now go your ways, and happy be, For you may place your trust in me!"

The Shepherd gone, Tray looked around : The sheep were grazing o'er the ground, Where oxlips red and violets blue Displayed bright gems of morning dew; And nothing more did he espy

Than a stray dog, as wand'ring nigh,