Then he tapped at the hive; but the busy Bee said,
"I work hard all the day and go early to bed,
I am out with the first rosy streak in the sky,
And, quite tired out, home at sunset I fly!

Then the Bluebottle called on the greedy old Snail,
But the early green peas were just in,-"I can't fail,
While the pods are so young, to keep near them," said he,
"So pray tell Mrs. Cricket I can't come to tea!"
The Wasp had a card; but the Bluebottle-fly
Was delighted to take his declining reply,
For his temper was spiteful, his sting was severe,
And he was not a neighbour one cared to live near.

Then the messenger went where the Butterfly lay
On the leaf of a rose but she fluttered away,
Declaring politely she never could dare

To go into a house this warm weather ;-for air
Was prescribed for her health; so, although very loth
To refuse her dear friend, she felt sure Dr. Moth
Would pronounce it most highly imprudent at least,
But she sent her best wishes to honour the feast.

Then the Bluebottle flew on again on his way,
To where midst green rushes, a little pool lay;
He asked Mrs. Frog and her merry young brood,
But though grieved to refuse, she declared, to intrude
Such an army of tadpoles in long clothes to tea,
A most foolish and tiresome proceeding would be!
Besides how to convey them, was hopeless alone,
For their tails were not off, and their legs were not on.

Then the Bluebottle-fly buzz'd in sorrow, "Dear, me!
I'm afraid they wont get any neighbour to tea.'
The Spider was busily weaving her net,
"I've not had a morsel to eat even yet,
So I can't stop to talk; but present my regard,
And tell Mrs. Cricket, I feel it is hard

To refuse her. I can't leave my work for a minute,
While my larder has not a fly's leg or wing in it!"

Then away to the Lady-bird, Bluebottle flew ;
But she scarce paused to listen the message unto;
For some one proclaimed that her house was a-blaze,
And her little ones burning,-in grief and amaze
Away went the red-coated mother to see;

So 't was no use to hope she would come back to tea.
The Beetle was busy, and so was the Fly,
Indeed all seemed engaged, and 't was no use to try.

So buzzing out loudly his huge discontent,
At his mission in vain, back the Bluebottle went;
He found the gay Cricket arranging her wings,
And smoothing her legs, and such other neat things;
While the Mouse brush'd his fur, trimm'd his whiskers
and tail,

And prepared to receive all his friends, and regale
On all the best fare they could find in the house,
Said the Cricket, "Come in!" "Welcome back,” cried
the Mouse.

"Alas, my dear friends, it quite grieves me to tell,
What little success to my message befell;
For all seem too busy, too hungry, too shy,

Or too frighten❜d to come," said the Bluebottle-fly.

"Or perhaps the real reason is this-they 're too idle," The smart little Cricket replied with a bridle,

As she daintily spoke," or too grand they may be,
In such a small cottage to come and take tea.”

"Never mind them, my dear," said the good-temper'd Mouse,

After all, we don't want them in our little house; Here's our friend the Bluebottle, with you, dear, and

me,

'Tis surely enough for a house-warming tea!" Then, like sensible folks, they sat down to the feast, So neatly laid out for a dozen at least,

By their buzzing and chirping, so merry and hearty, You might have supposed all had come to the party.

But fate, in the shape of their terrible foe,
The Cat, to the banquet, came slyly and slow.
She pounced on the mouse, and reserved him a treat,
At leisure to pick-then proceeded to eat,

The poor widow'd Cricket, then snapp'd up the fly,
As he buzzed in great terror and agony by.
So this was the pitiful end as you see,

Of the house-warming party that sat down to tea!

Now when Crosspatch turned out her hoard, there was a nutmeg-grater among the rest. "Well, old Rasper!" she said "I don't suppose you can help me; but I'll unscrew you, and see at any rate, for fear of losing a chance." So

she took off the top of the grater, which came off with a frightful squeak, that made the goblin wink his eyes in his sleep. And inside screwed up very tightly, was a roll of paper, which contained the following:

THE FAIRY SHALLOP.

A LITTLE boat went sailing
Upon the silver sea,

The Summer breezes bore it on,
As gaily as could be.

Its sail was a pink, pink rose-leaf,
Its ropes did the spider spin,
'Twas built of a purple mussel-shell,
All lined with pearl within.

And oh! it sail'd on softly,
And gaily as might be,
With its azure pennon flowing,
Upon the silver sea.

The little waves press'd round it,
And bore it far away,

To the purple palm-fringed islands,
Beyond the twilight grey.

The ripples that sparkled round it,
Gleamed as each bubble brake,
And white as snow behind it,
Lay the long and glitt'ring wake.

N

Up and down on the billow,
Over, and through the foam,
Away went my little vessel,

Like a young bird, to its home.
The last glimpse that I had of it,
Was a sunny gleam that lay
On my tiny boat, in the twilight dim
That silently floated away.

And until it sails into harbour,
I sit on the golden sands,

To see my boat coming back again,
From the far-off fairy lands.

One morning Crosspatch went to cook her breakfast, a nice rasher of streaky bacon. But there was a scrap of paper folded round the rashers, so she said "That may be some use for my counterpane!" And on the greasy

sheet of paper she read

GRIZZLE THE PIG.

The old sow led a very comfortable life of it in Farmer Hodge's yard. She lived in a capacious and well-planned sty, big enough to hold the largest family of "piglings" she was ever likely to have. She was always pro