"But from her head the hov'ring fay
    Pluck'd one white bridal flower;
For love was but the last bright touch
    Of hidden beauty's power.

"The patient sprite at last was free,
    Her spirit-bard was won;
Her spell for Una's happiness
    Its work had nobly done.

"Happy they were in hope and love,
    While the young poet-wife
Pour'd vividly her quick fresh thoughts
    About the painter's life.

"And he her fancies beautiful
    Into his pictures wrought;
And thus two fleeting happy years
    Both wealth and honour brought.

"And when his little daughter's eyes
    Did first on life unclose,
With grateful thoughts of long ago,
    Her father named her Rose.

"For, still preserved by loving hands,
    Shoots of that rose-tree grew,
And fays, as to a wayside home,
    Into its blossoms flew."

VI.

The poet ceased; all homage paid
    His blushing little fay,
And the queen bade for joy once more
   The flower trumpets play.

And "Long live Childhood!" sang they all,
    "And may it ever be
But gently turn'd with length'ning years
    To love and poetry!"

A NEW WAY OF MAKING AN OLD
ARTICLE.

Two very old ladies, bearing the respective
names of Nature and Fortune, were drinking
tea one evening about thirty years ago—for
the sake of accuracy it may as well be stated
that it was on the evening of the first of
January, eighteen hundred and twenty-nine
—and, as is the custom with old ladies, were
interfering very considerably with other
people's affairs, when a slight misunderstanding
arose between them which, as words fell
fast, very speedily assumed the proportions
of a downright quarrel. The subject of their
misunderstanding was the destiny of a male
child, just born into the world, who will be
known in the course of this narrative as
Gabriel Badger, of Badger Hall, Warwickshire,
and Hertford Street, May Fair, Esquire.
A lump of sugar too little in her tea, or the
richer lace of her friend's pocket-handkerchief,
had soured, for the moment, Dame
Nature's kindly feeling, and her ill-humour
manifested itself precisely at the moment
when Gabriel Badger was brought into the
world.

"Another birth!" she exclaimed, frowning
over her spectacles. "The world is getting
more and more like a rabbit-warren every
day!"

"Why should you complain?" asked Dame
Fortune—mildly, of course, and without the
remotest desire to irritate her companion.
"I thought it was your province to see that
the world was peopled!"—

Speaking in italics, with even ever so little
emphasis, is always disagreeable to hear when
a person is out of sorts, and Dame Nature
answered testily:—

"Suppose it is! One may have too much
of a thing, I presume."

"Not of a good thing," returned Dame
Fortune, in a somewhat sharper tone.

"That's your opinion, is it?" said Dame
Nature.

Here the quarrel began; but not to follow
it from inuendo to insult and from insult to
outrage—not to introduce any of the
personalities with which it was garnished—the
feud may be taken up at the point where it
most affected Gabriel Badger.

"He shall be the ugliest fellow in England,"
said Dame Nature.

"He shall be the richest, though!" retorted
Dame Fortune.

"He shall be a conceited ass!" cried Dame
Nature. "He shall put his foot in it
wherever he goes, he shall be the laughing-
stock of the universe, he shall—" The old
lady burst out laughing, and could not finish
her anathema.

"Poor spite," said Dame Fortune, with a
bitter smile. "One comfort is, you can't
make him poor!"

"I can make him knock-kneed, I can make
him squint, I can give him red hair, I can—"

"Endow him with all your own attributes,
I dare say," was the courteous rejoinder.

This was the commencement of the
personalities alluded to, and as it would be
distressing to dwell any further on an exhibition
remarkable, on both sides, for its display of
infirmity of temper, I shall merely observe
that Dame Fortune rang the bell, ordered
her carriage, and drove off to an evening
party at the house of the greatest millionnaire
of the day.

When people are in a passion they always
say twice as much as in their sober moments
they ever dream of performing. Gabriel
Badger, Esquire, when he came of age, was
consequently neither the richest nor the
ugliest man in England; but he was rich
enough to excite the envy of most of the
members of his club, and plain enough to
make the women stare at him as they passed.
When a man is rich there are so many things
to force the fact upon his attention that it is
next to impossible for him to remain
unconscious of his wealth; but he may be as ugly
as you please and yet have no idea that such
is the case. If familiarity with others breeds
contempt, familiarity with our external selves
has an effect exactly opposite. We get so
used to the sight of our own bottle noses that