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THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.

A NEW VERSION OF AN OLD STORY.

'WILL 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've 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've 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

read,

this story

To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:

Unto an evil counsellor close heart, and ear, and

eye,

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

COFFEE.

A HISTORY.

Mary. How very nice the coffee tastes this cold morning! Do you know, aunt, I was thinking, as you poured mine out, how much I should like to hear all about it, and where it is obtained ?

Aunt. Well, my dear, you shall do so; but if the coffee itself could only speak, it would be able to tell you much better than I.

At that moment there was heard such a strange gurgling sound in the spout of the coffee-pot, that both Mary and her aunt looked at each other with surprise! Mary exclaiming, 'Oh! what is the matter with the coffee this morning?'

'Nothing is the matter, all is right; you need not look so amazed, little friend,' said a tiny voice from out the spout; I heard your wish, and am willing to give you a short history of myself. Ah! you little think, as you sip me for your breakfast, how I have been taken away from my home, and brought a long, long distance for your use. Sometimes, when I think of all I have gone through and suffered for you and other people, I am lost in wonder. I am, indeed, changed since I left the place in which I was born!--but you shall hear.'

Mary. I shall be very pleased to learn all about you, and the more so as you yourself are good enough to tell it me. You will find me pay great attention to all you may say.

"Well, as I said before, I came from a country a long way off, called Arabia. The little coffee-tree that bore me had a very happy time, at least so I have heard from a very old friend of the family. It was planted nearly at the top of a lofty mountain (for you must understand that the coffee-plant flourishes better the higher it is up). There the sweet fresh showers fell gently upon its green glossy leaves, and made it grow. When two years old, it, with its many companions, was covered with pretty white star-like flowers; and so suddenly did these blossoms expand, that in one night the whole plantation was white over. A similar appearance would be presented in this your country if snow happened to fall upon the trees while furnished with their foliage. I must tell you that these flowers give out a delightful fragrance during the short time they live, which is only one or two days. These are succeeded by a fruit, which is a berry, resembling a cherry, of a pale colour, but which changes to a dark red when ripe. Each berry contains two seeds, which are called coffee-beans, and from these I was made. So now I can speak for myself. Well, one day there came some dark-looking people, and having spread cloths underneath, they began to shake the coffee-trees, so much so, that we berries, being fully ripe, fell off; and before we could recover ourselves, we were taken away and spread upon mats exposed to the sun's rays. There we remained till quite dry. This was not