She dashed the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes, And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies. “Hey-day! and what’s the matter now?” Says grandmamma, with lifted brow. Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still, and sore, Made many a promise to refrain, From meddling any more. And ’tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word. —_Ann Taylor._ [Illustration] TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR. [Illustration] Twinkle, twinkle, little star! How I wonder what you are, Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the glorious sun is set, When the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle all the night. In the dark-blue sky you keep, And often through thy curtains peep, For you never shut your eye, Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark Guides the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star! —_Jane Taylor._ THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOWWORM. A nightingale that all day long Had cheer’d the village with his song, Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, Began to feel, as well he might, The keen demands of appetite; When looking eagerly around, He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the glowworm by his spark; So stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent: “Did _you_ admire my lamp,” quoth he, “As much as I your minstrelsy, You would _abhor_ to do me wrong, As much as I to spoil your song; For ’twas the self same power Divine Taught _you_ to sing and _me_ to shine; That you with music, I with light, Might beautify and cheer the night.” The songster heard his short oration, And, warbling out his approbation, Released him, as my story tells, And found a supper somewhere else. —_William Cowper._ [Illustration] If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work. —_William Shakespeare._