lip. Besides, as my nose was exceedingly prominent, I gave it two or three unlucky knocks as I was playing my hand about my face, and aiming at some other part of it. I saw two other gentlemen by me, who were in the same ridiculous circumstances. These had made a foolish exchange between a couple of thick bandy legs, and two long trap sticks that had no calves. to them. One of these looked like a man walking upon stilts, and was so lifted up into the air, above his ordinary height, that his head turned round with it; while the other made such awkward circles, as he attempted to walk, that he scarcely knew how to move forward upon his new supporters. Observing him to be a pleasant kind of fellow, I stuck my cane in the ground, and told him I would lay him a bottle of wine, that he did not march up to it, on a line that I drew for him, in a quarter of an hour.

The heap was at last distributed among the sexes, who made a most piteous sight, as they wandered up and down under the pressure of their several burdens. The whole plain was filled with murmurs and complaints, groans and lamentations. Jupiter, at length, having compassion on the poor mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. They discharged themselves with a great deal of pleasure; after which, the phantom who had led them into such gross delusions was commanded to disappear. There was seen in her place a goddess of a quite different figure her motions were steady and composed, and her aspect serious but cheerful. She, every now and then, cast her eyes towards heaven, and fixed them upon Jupiter: her name was PATIENCE. She had no sooner placed herself by the mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the whole heap sunk to such a degree that it did not appear a third part as big as it was before. She afterwards returned every man his own proper calamity, and, teaching him how to bear it in the most commodious manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being very well pleased that he had not been left to his own choice, as to the kind of evils which fell to his lot.

Besides the several pieces of morality to be drawn out of this vision, I learned from it never to repine at my own misfortunes, nor to envy the happiness of another, since it is impossible for any man to form a right judgment of his neighbor's sufferings; for which reason also, I have determined never to

think lightly of another's complaints, but to regard the sorrows of my fellow-creatures with sentiments of humanity and compassion.

FABLES OF JOHN GAY.

[JOHN GAY, English poet, was born at Barnstaple, Devon, in 1685, and was apprenticed to a silk mercer. Disliking his occupation, he was released from it by his master, and became secretary to the Duchess of Monmouth and then to Lord Clarendon, envoy extraordinary to Hanover. His earliest poem, "Rural Sports," was dedicated to Pope, who took a great interest in the young poet and later became his firm friend. Gay then published "The Shepherd's Week"; "The What-d'ye-call-it," a farce; "Trivia, or the Art of Walking the Streets of London"; "Poems" (including "Black-eyed Susan"); "The Captives,” a tragedy. In 1728 was produced the famous Newgate pastoral, "The Beggar's Opera," which ran over sixty nights and netted the author seven hundred pounds. The representation of "Polly," a sequel, was forbidden by the lord chamberlain. After this Gay lived with the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, and died suddenly, December 4, 1732. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.]

THE MOTHER, THE NURSE, AND THE FAIRY.

"GIVE me a son." The blessing sent,
Were ever parents more content?
How partial are their doting eyes!
No child is half so fair and wise.

Waked to the morning's pleasing care,

The Mother rose and sought her heir.
She saw the Nurse like one possest,
With wringing hands and sobbing breast.
"Sure some disaster has befell:
Speak, Nurse; I hope the boy is well."

"Dear Madam, think not me to blame;
Invisible the Fairy came:

Your precious babe is hence conveyed,
And in the place a changeling laid.
Where are the father's mouth and nose?
The mother's eyes, as black as sloes?
See, here, a shocking awkward creature,
That speaks a fool in every feature."

"The woman's blind, (the Mother cries)

I see wit sparkle in his eyes."

"Lord, Madam, what a squinting leer! No doubt the Fairy hath been here.”

Just as she spoke, a pygmy sprite

Pops through the keyhole swift as light;

Perched on the cradle's top he stands,
And thus her folly reprimands:-

"Whence sprung the vain conceited lie,
That we the world with fools supply?
What! give our sprightly race away
For the dull, helpless sons of Clay!
Besides, by partial fondness shown,
Like you we dote upon our own.
Where yet was ever found a Mother
Who'd give her booby for another?
And should we change with human breed,
Well might we pass for fools indeed."

THE EAGLE AND ASSEMBLY OF ANIMALS.

As Jupiter's all-seeing eye

Surveyed the worlds beneath the sky;
From this small speck of earth were sent
Murmurs and sounds of discontent;

For everything alive complained
That he the hardest life sustained.

Jove calls his Eagle. At the word
Before him stands the royal bird.
The bird, obedient, from heaven's height,
Downward directs his rapid flight;
Then cited every living thing

To hear the mandates of his king.

"Ungrateful creatures! whence arise
These murmurs which offend the skies;
Why this disorder? say the cause;
For just are Jove's eternal laws.
Let each his discontent reveal;

To yon sour Dog I first appeal."

"Hard is my lot, (the Hound replies) On what fleet nerves the Greyhound flies! While I, with weary step and slow, O'er plains, and vales, and mountains go. The morning sees my chase begun,

Nor ends it till the setting sun."

"When (says the Greyhound) I pursue,

My game is lost, or caught in view;
Beyond my sight the prey's secure;
The Hound is slow, but always sure;
And had I his sagacious scent,
Jove ne'er had heard my discontent."

The Lion craved the Fox's art; The Fox the Lion's force and heart: The Cock implored the Pigeon's flight, Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light; The Pigeon strength of wing despised, And the Cock's matchless valor prized: The fishes wished to graze the plain, The Beasts to skim beneath the main : Thus, envious of another's state, Each blamed the partial hand of Fate.

The Bird of Heaven then cried aloud, "Jove bids disperse the murmuring crowd; The god rejects your idle prayers. Would ye, rebellious mutineers! Entirely change your name and nature, And be the very envied creature? — What, silent all, and none consent? Be happy, then, and learn content; Nor imitate the restless mind, And proud ambition, of mankind."

THE PAINTER

WHO PLEASED NOBODY AND EVERYBODY.

Lest men suspect your tale untrue,
Keep probability in view.

The traveler leaping o'er those bounds,

The credit of his book confounds.

Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes even his real courage doubted.

But flattery never seems absurd;

The flattered always take your word:
Impossibilities seem just:

They take the strongest praise on trust.
Hyperboles, though ne'er so great,
Will still come short of self-conceit.

So very like a Painter drew,
That every eye the picture knew;
He hit complexion, feature, air,
So just, the life itself was there.
No flattery with his colors laid,
To bloom restored the faded maid;
He gave each muscle all its strength;
The mouth, the chin, the nose's length;

His honest pencil touched with truth,
And marked the date of age and youth.

He lost his friends, his practice failed;
Truth should not always be revealed:
In dusty piles his pictures lay,
For no one sent the second pay.
Two bustoes, fraught with every grace,
A Venus' and Apollo's face,

He placed in view: resolved to please,
Whoever sat he drew from these,
From these corrected every feature,
And spirited each awkward creature.

All things were set; the hour was come, His pallet ready o'er his thumb;

My Lord appeared; and, seated right,
In proper attitude and light,

The Painter looked, he sketched the piece,
Then dipt his pencil, talked of Greece,

Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air;
"Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there
Might well a Raphael's hand require,
To give them all the native fire;
The features, fraught with sense and wit,
You'll grant are very hard to hit;
But yet with patience you shall view
As much as paint and art can do."

Observe the work. My Lord replied,
"Till now I thought my mouth was wide;
Besides my nose is somewhat long;
Dear Sir, for me, 'tis far too young."
"Oh! pardon me, (the artist cried)
In this we Painters must decide.

The piece even common eyes must strike,
I warrant it extremely like."

My Lord examined it anew;
No looking-glass seemed half so true.

A lady came, with borrowed grace,
He from his Venus formed her face.
Her lover praised the Painter's art;
So like the picture in his heart!
To every age some charm he lent;
Even beauties were almost content.

Through all the town his art they praised; His custom grew, his price was raised.

Had he the real likeness shown,