Ed. Unhappy Chanticlear.

Alice. But that is not all.

Aunt C. By no means. The hens made an uproar which is compared to that of all the unfortunate ladies mentioned in ancient history, and this brought out the "sely widow and her daughters two, with their men, the maid Malkin, with distaff in her hand, the dogs, Col, Talbot, and Gerland, and even the hogs and cow and calf, making more noise than Jack Straw and all his company." The cock upon the fox's back heard them, and observed that if he were in the place of the fox, with such a prey, in spite of all these pursuers,

"I will him eat in faith, and that anon."

The Fox answered, "In faith it shall be done."
And as he spake the word, all suddenly
The cock flew from his mouth deliverly,
And high upon a tree he flew anon!

Aunt C. Yes; and though the Fox assured him that he had been carried out with no wicked intent, Chanti

clear had grown too wise to be beguiled again.

Alice. Who is Phisiologus?

Aunt C. A general name for physiologists, or men learned in natural history, who seem to have answered for it that mermaids sing sweetly.

Ed. Why is the Fox called Dan Russel?

Aunt C. Russel, from his colour rousse; Dan, like the Spanish Don, short for Dominus, Lord.

Grace. How droll to think of those old knights and people in armour caring for stories of cocks and hens.

Alice. And it is exactly the same notion as in the old fable of the Fox and the Crow. Do let us have that next, Aunt.

THE FOX AND THE CROW.

The Fox and the Crow,

In prose, I well know,

Many good little girls can rehearse;

Perhaps it will tell

Pretty nearly as well

If we try the same fable in verse.

In a dairy a Crow,

Having ventured to go

Some food for her young ones to seek,

Flew up in the trees

With a fine piece of cheese,

Which she joyfully held in her beak.

F

A Fox, who lived by,

To the tree saw her fly,

And to share in the prize made a vow; For, having just dined,

He for cheese felt inclined,

So he went and sat under the bough.

She was cunning, he knew,

But so was he too,

And with flattery adopted his plan;

For he knew if she'd speak

It must fall from her beak,

So he, bowing politely, began

"Tis a very fine day"

(Not a word did she say),

"The wind, I believe, ma'am, is south; A fine harvest for peas"

He then looked at the cheese,

But the Crow did not open her mouth.

Sly Reynard, not tired,

Her plumage admired

"How charming! how brilliant its hue! The voice must be fine

Of a bird so divine

Ah! let me just hear it, pray do?

"Believe me, I long

To hear a sweet song"

The silly crow foolishly tries.
She scarce gave one squall,
When the cheese she let fall,

And the Fox ran away with the prize.
ANN OR JANE Taylor.

Aunt C. Dear old Original Poems! My copy came down from a former generation. They have come fresh and fresh to one set of children after another, now, for seventy years-for the first edition was published in 1810. Before that, there was scarcely any poetry easy enough for children, except some of Cowper's pieces, and they were made to learn very beautiful passages which they could not understand.

Alice. We are very much obliged to whoever it was that wrote those charming old verses.

Aunt C. It was one of two sisters-Ann and Jane Taylor, who belonged to a large and happy family, the children of an engraver of prints, living at Ongar, in Essex. One of them, Ann, who lived to a great age, wrote her recollections, and a delightful picture she gives of the family habits. Some interesting book was

read aloud at meals, and then the daughters went to help their father at his work of line-engraving in a large airy room. They had time for their own pursuits too, and among them was this of writing verses for young people. Ann married a Mr. Gilbert, and spent the rest of her life at Nottingham, where she died at a great age in 1860. Jane died in 1822. You must read about them some day in Mrs. Gilbert's Memoirs, or in The Family Pen, where their nephew tells the full history.

Ed. There's a better story still in my Greek history book. The fox did some good there.

Aunt C. Ah! the ballad of Aristomenes in Dr. Neale's Stories from Heathen Mythology. hear it, Edmund.

Pray let us

Ed. You must know that this fellow's people-the Messenians, weren't they?—had been beaten by the Spartans in a great battle, and all the dead men, fifty of them, had been thrown into a pit, and he among them. However, he really was not hurt a bit, only stunned.