Talks of ambition's tottering seat,
How envy persecutes the great;
Of rival hate, of treach'rous friends,
And what disgrace his fall attends.

The court he quits, to fly from Care,
And seeks the peace of rural air:
His groves, his fields, amus'd his hours;
He prun'd his trees, he rais'd his flow'rs.
But Care again his steps pursues;
Warns him of blasts of blighting dews,
Of plund'ring insects, snails and rains,
And droughts that starv'd the labour'd plains.
Abroad, at home, the spectre's there :
In vain we seek to fly from Care.

At length he thus the ghost address'd :

"BLESS me," exclaimed a young pigeon, "what strange creatures there are upon the earth!-The very sight of them almost frightens us to death. Ah, my dear mother, for such inexperienced children as I, it were better to stay at home, unless their parents go with them. I was just now in such a perilous situation, that I thought I should have lost my life."—" Thus it happens, my dear," said the mother quite alarmed, "when children think themselves wiser than their parents. I suppose a cat was near seizing you."-"O no mother!" replied the young pigeon," I am not quite so simple as that, though I am but young."— "Then I suppose the hawk was approaching while you were on your journey?" -"Oh, how you talk !—I know better than to let him come near me.”—“ Then what was this dreadful thing, chatterbox ?-for you keep me in suspense.”—“ Do not be angry, mother, and I will tell you. As I was flying about the fields, I saw an enormous animal, with four long wings, and a great body; but I could not see his feet, they were hidden under him, as he sat on the grass. He had placed himself on the top of a hill, and I not suspecting it was anything alive, had seated myself on the point of one of his wings. Directly he perceived this, he began to flutter and shake his monstrous pinions, and so terrible was the noise, that I flew away, without even venturing once to look behind me."—" For shame you simpleton! you make a jest of things that are really dangerous, and are terrified at things which in their nature are harmless. The enormous bird at which you are so terrified, is nothing but a machine; the wings are affixed to it, and set in motion by the wind; in short with men, it is called a windmill."

Persons who are insensible of real danger, and think themselves very courageous, resemble this pigeon. In the dark, they are alarmed at every strange appearance, and even a stick dressed up with a coat, appears to them an object of terror.

MERCURY AND THE WOODMAN.

A MAN was felling a tree on the bank of a river, and by chance let his hatchet slip out of his hand, which dropped into the water, and immediately sunk to the bottom. Being, therefore, in great distress for the loss of his tool, he sat down and bemoaned himself most lamentably. Upon this, Mercury appeared to him, and, being informed of the cause of his complaint, dived to the bottom of the river, and, coming up again, shewed the man a golden hatchet, demanding if that were his. He denied that it was. Upon which Mercury dived a second time, and brought up a silver one. The man refused it, alleging, likewise, that this was not his. He dived a third time, and fetched up the individual hatchet the man had lost; upon sight of which, the poor wretch was overjoyed, and took it with all humility and thankfulness. Mercury was so pleased with the fellow's honesty, that he gave him the other two into the bargain, as a reward for his just dealing. The man goes to his companions, and, giving them an account of what had happened, one of them went presently to the river side, and let his hatchet fall designedly into the stream; then, sitting down upon the bank, he commenced weeping and lamenting, as if he had been really and sorely afflicted. Mercury appeared as before, and, diving, brought him up a golden hatchet, asking if that were the hatchet he had lost. Transported at the precious metal, he answered yes, and went to snatch it greedily. But the god, detesting his abominable impudence, not only refused to give him that, but would not so much as let him have his own hatchet again.

Notwithstanding the proneness of mankind to do evil, and the account which some find in playing the knave, yet there cannot be invented a more true and reasonable maxim, than that by which we are assured, that "honesty is the best policy." If we consider it in respect to the other world, there never was a religion but strictly required it of its votaries. If we examine it upon account of this, we shall find that the honest man, provided his other talents be not deficient, always carries the preference, in our esteem, before any other, in whatever business he thinks fit to employ himself.

THE LION AND THE WOLF.

"

THE lion, having assembled the animals, ascended his tribunal-seat to administer justice. The cow first addressed him, and demanded retribution for the loss of her calf, which had been stolen by some one unknown. The lion, casting a look round, to see if any of the assembly could give him information on the subject, the wolf said, in an earnest manner, "Sire, I can safely affirm that I know nothing of the robbery."-" And who accused you of it?" said the king. Slanderer,' he exclaimed, turning to the cow, "you are sensible that I could not be the marauder, for I am at this time very ill."-" Be silent!" vociferated the lion; "it is the voice of conscience which speaks in you-you have stolen the calf! and I command the bear to be your executioner." The wolf was then torn to pieces; and in its intestines were discovered the remains of the poor calf.

Whoever pleads to an accusation before it is directed to him, manifests an over anxiety which indicates a participation of guilt.

THE HARPER.

A FELLOW that used to play upon his harp, and sing to it, in little ale-houses, and made a shift, by the help of those narrow confined walls, to please the dull sots who heard him, from hence entertained an ambition of shewing his parts in public, where he fancied he could not fail of raising a great reputation and fortune in a very short time. He was, accordingly, admitted upon trial; but the spaciousness of the place, and the throng of the people, so deadened and weakened both his voice and instrument, that scarcely either of them could be heard; and where they could, it sounded so wretchedly in the ears of his refined audience, that he was universally hissed off the stage.

When we are commended for our performances by people of much flattery or little judgment, we should be sure not to value ourselves upon it; for want of which, many a vain, unthinking man has at once exposed and lost himself to the world. A buffoon may be very agreeable to a company disposed to be mirthful over a glass of wine, who would not be fit to open his mouth in a senate, or upon a subject where sound sense and a grave and serious behaviour are expected. It is not the diverting a little insignificant, injudicious audience or society, which can gain us a proper esteem, or insure our success, in a place which calls for a performance of the first rate; we should have either allowed abilities to please the most refined tastes, or judgment enough to know that we want them, and to have a care how we submit ourselves to the trial.

THE CAT AND THE COCK.

THE cat having a mind to make a meal of the cock, seized him one morning by surprise, and asked him what he had to say for himself, why slaughter should not be passed upon him? The cock replied, that he was serviceable to mankind, by crowing in the morning, and calling them up to their daily labour. "That is true," said the cat," and is the very objection that I have against you; for you make such a shrill, impertinent noise, that people cannot sleep for you. Besides, you make no scruple of marrying your mother and sisters."-"Well,” said the cock, this I do not deny; but I do it to procure eggs and chickens for my master."—"Ah! villain," said the cat, "hold your wicked tongue; such impieties as these declare that you are no longer fit to live."

When a wicked man, in power, has a mind to glut his appetite in any respect, innocence, or even merit, is no protection against him. The cries of justice, and the voice of reason, are of no effect upon a conscience hardened in iniquity, and a mind versed in a long practice of wrong and robbery.

THE MARAUDING PIKE.

A PIKE, which had long been the terror of the stream; said to himself: "I, who reign here arbitrarily, and am the Nero of my species, why am I limited to this narrow stream!—why do I not immediately launch into the boundless ocean, and satiate at large my sanguinary appetite?" He immediately commenced his journey, and was no sooner in the ocean, than a tremendous shark, who never spares friend! or foe, opened his terrific jaws, and in a moment devoured him.

THE VIZIER AND THE CLOWN.

As strokes of genuine wit, I praise Not jests alone, which laughter raise ; (This were a sorry taste indeed)

But hints that to instruction lead,

And thought awake, though giving birth
To no convulsive burst of mirth.
Such, chiefly when they injure none,
As strokes of genuine wit I own.
Some may be gloomy, grave and wise,
A picture when the shade we prize.
This is the school I most approve;
The bold emphatic style I love.
And, from a Persian master, I
A copy of the kind will try.

His country once a premier vex'd,

Like Haman in the holy text

And made the Prince, whose power he wrested
To basest uses, be detested.

Where'er he went, a saucy guard
With insolence his way prepar'd;
And all were bound, when seen afar,
To kneel before his gilded car.

One day, as he to council roll'd,
His pride by gorgeous pomp cajol'd,
Approaching a sepulchral ground,
A peasant there at work he found,
Who seem'd to seek or hide a store
In these cadaverous regions hoar.
The clown, whose labour never ceas'd,
Look'd on, with calm unstartled breast,
While all the little army pass'd,
And even its lord himself at last,
Darting ferocious looks around,
Each heart, as usual, to confound.
The rustic's rudeness stung his view;
And near the crusty clown he drew,
Who still dug on, without respect,
Or rather with design'd neglect.
This mark'd affront so bold and new,
The proud Vizier's resentment drew;
But, as on ground so much rever'd
To give his passion vent he fear'd,
Feigning, for once, a mild address,
"My friend," he calmly said, I guess,

By that unmov'd and silent air,
Some mighty and momentous care-
Some object that absorbs thy mind,
To our approach has made thee blind.
No vengeance dread-but freely speak;
Among these bones what dost thou seek?
"What do I seek? --those sculls survey-
Well then-I seek a certain way

To know, in this research of mine,
My father's scull from that of thine;
But seek in vain-no means appear—
All are like—all equal here.

One sees no emblem in the grave

To mark the sovereign from the slave.
When thou and I shall thither go.
Should our descendants wish to know,
Each their respective sire's remains,
They'll only lose their time and pains."

THE EAGLE AND THE RABBITS.

AN eagle came to a litter of rabbits, and bore off the young ones.

:

The parents,

in the most piteous accents, prayed the tyrant to spare their offspring; but in vain he tore them to pieces before their face. The sorrows of the injured pair collected together the other inhabitants of the warren, who, determined to punish the invader, mustered all their forces, and, in two successive nights, undermined the tree on which the eagle had built her nest. On the third night a violent storm arose, and blew down the tottering trunk: the nest descended with it, and the eaglets, incapable of flight, were either dashed to pieces, or became an easy prey to the savage beasts of the forest, while the injured rabbits beheld their ruin unhurt.

The mighty and most secure should avoid offending the poor and humble; for the latter, when united, are more than a match for the insolent and oppressive.

THE HORSE AND THE WASP.

A WASP having severely stung a horse, the latter kicked and pranced about, with an intention of destroying its tormentor.-" Your exertion is in vain," said the wasp; "for I am in such a secure place on your flank, that you cannot hurt me.” The horse now tried the effect of mild treatment, and begged the wasp to desist; which drew the following reply from the little insect: "Mild words will often effect what rude and violent treatment cannot ;-as a proof of which, I will sting you no more."