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• But, now, ere farther I proceed, • Myself will own each doubtful deed. • I've done; e'en I, who sit as Judge, • From this dread ordeal must not budge; • And, where I've err’d, for nought I'll mask, 'I pardon of dread justice ask. • I've chickens eaten now and then, * Many's the time and oft an hen; • But mine's a frame of fragile make; Study and public business shake

So much my nerves, that, without question, • I've hurt the organs of digestion. * And hence a doctor sage decreed • I ever must on white meat feed;

I've grey and green geese ate, but, mark, “ 'Twas when I caught them in the dark; . And there's a proverb sets me right, " All colour'd cats are grey at night.' • Hence you'll allow I had 20 mean mete • To prove them white, or grey, or green meat. • Ducks, as strong meat, the sage forbid, * And did I eat 'em? yes, I did . I one day ate fine ducks a dozen, • Which for the spit next day were chosen ; . So dead in law was ev'ry creature, • And dead in law is dead in nature ; **Disclaim'd by nature and by law, Nonentity proves no faux pas. • As sick folks must have white meat pickings, • This clears me of the hen and chickens;

• An old game cock I chanc'd to stuff, • Who for white meat, was much too tough ; . But then his conduct cost him life, • With all he liy'd in endless strife;. • Was of the place the very pest, • From day-break let no creature rest; * And, since the hour I stopp'd his tongue, • Sleep has on ev'ry eye-lid hung ; • Studious and sick their thanks afford, * Refresh'd are those, and these restor'd.

Such good produc'd, let casuist's skill • Prove, if it can, the action ill ; "I can't, I own, who right ne'er wrench; • But, Lord Chief Justice of the Bench, 'I wish to prove my hands are clean

Before more cases intervene ; • For, when the fount of judgment's pure, • Justice may all concern'd ensure.' Thus his own case the judge submitted, And was, as you'd foresee, acquitted.

Proceed, ’he cried-a trembling Ass Stepp'd forth, and said It came to pass • One day to market as I bore

Some cabbages,-it goads me sore! * But hunger tempted, and I ate; • I hope'--You hope !' infuriate With zeal and justice, Fox replied, • You hope! The worst of all I've tried : - Your master's cabbages to eat! * Monstrous ; your death shall soon defeat

* The plague, which doubtless here was sent, • For such a crime, small punishment !

The quivering Ass-My dearest Sir, • Indeed too harshly you infer; trans • I only ate the leaves.'—' 0, shame!.. , • Caitiff, is not the act the same ? • But eat the leaves ! shall that avail ? * That spoil'd the cabbages for sale.'

. Alas!' the Ass near famish'd, I • No other way could want supply: ; ils . And e'en your lordship has declar'd, 4, 003? • (And who to controvert has dar'

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! • Your dread decree ?) that 'tis no flaw, * (Necessity allow'd no law :30. 7 . · When it impels) our wasting wants to • To gratify with what chance grants.

Insolent!!-th' upright Judge rejoin'd,, • Your sin is of the blackest kind ; snites • These gentlemen had errors, true, che • But have excuse; there's none for you.

Ingratitude your crime encreas'd;: porcijas. Your master found your daily feast, 5 * And you repay the hand that fed • By eating up his daily bread! biriyor * Of all the crimes by nature nurs'

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. Ingratitude's proclaim'd the worst! - HBO ..That vice can never be defended;

You die !!---his death the judgment ended,

FABLE LXIII.

THE BOY, THE CAT AND THE YOUNG BIRDS,

By Mary Anne Davis.

Sweet is in spring the mellow note
That issues from the blackbird's throat,
And sweet is ev'ry warbling lay
That makes the grove and garden gay.
But there's a joy to feeling dearer
Than tuneful concerts to the hearer;
To mark the instinct which directs
These happy skilful architects,
In building for their infant race
A snug commodious dwelling place ;
To note how dexterously they snatch
The straw from off the cottage thatch,
And how laboriously convey

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Dry sticks and verdant moss away; and the
Then strip from off their feather'd breast
The softest down to line their nest ;
To see with what unwearied love to
To distant hills and vales they rove,
And how they cull the choicest food,
To feed their tender, callow brood.

l Yet there are miscreants who delight olen These creatures' fondest hopes to blight;

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Who plunder ev'ry nest they find,
Then toss its fragments to the wind,
Bearing the nestlings-sad to tell
Far from the home they lov'd so well;
Where lingering, piping, one by one
Their life expires, ere half begun.

Oh! if to any of my friends
Such wanton cruelty extends ;
If there exists one heartless boy, . .
Who loves a bird's nest to destroy;
I charge him, by his mother's care,
The curious edifice to spare;
I charge him, by his sire's caress,
To spare the infant tribe, who bless
Their feather'd mates, as he imparts.
Pleasure to his fond parents' hearts; -
To think, in ev'ry plaintive tone,
He hears his mother's anguish'd moan,
In ev'ry wing that flutters by,
He views his father's agony;
For so they'd grieve, were life's best gem,
Their darling children, torn from them.

A Boy of this destroying taste
In Spring laid all the neighbourhood waste :
Each brake he knew, each tangld bush,
Where built the blackbird, linnet, thrush;
Nor wall deterr'd, nor tree could foil
His desolating hand of spoil; . . .!
Festoons of speckled eggs, well strung,
Around his room sad trophies hung,

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