glow-worm both masculine and a reptile-neither of

which it can be called.

THE GLOW-WORM.

Beneath the hedge, or near the stream,

A worm is known to stray;
That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.

Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.

But this is sure-the Hand of might,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportioned to his size.

Perhaps indulgent Nature meant,
By such a lamp bestowed,
To bid the traveller as he went
Be careful where he trod.

Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,

To show a stumbling-stone by night,
And save him from a fall.

Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain,

'Tis power Almighty bids him shine,
Nor bids him shine in vain.

Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem,

And boasts its splendour too.

COWPER.

Aunt C. Cowper knew little of natural science, but that was not needed to convey the great thought in the last verses-the one thing in which all study results the "Power that bids him shine."

Alice. Is there not another poem of Cowper's about glow-worms?

Aunt C. The fable of the nightingale and glow

worm.

THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM.

A Nightingale that all day long
Had cheered 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 Glow-worm 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, quite 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.

COWPER.

Edmund. I don't see much sense in that, by way of fable! Pray, does it profess to have a moral, as they call it ?

Alice. I suppose the moral is that we should respect one another's endowments.

Aunt C. I believe there is thus much of fact in the

fable, that wise men believe that the Glow-worm's lovely green phosphorescent spark may have been given her to scare away the birds that feed by night. I cannot help thinking poor Cowper was a sort of Glow-worm in his own way, though he little enjoyed his own light. Do you know anything about him?

Edmund. Didn't he keep hares, and go out of his mind?

Alice. What an odd jumble.
Edmund. Can you mend it?

I am

Alice. I know he was born in 1730, and died in 1800, for I learnt that in my book of dates. sure he wrote a great deal.

Grace. Something about his mother's picture.

Aunt C. It is a sad story. He lost both his father and mother when a very little child, and that poem describes his dim recollections of his happy childhood. He was sent to Westminster school, and being very timid and delicate, was terribly bullied, and made most miserable. He says that he was so much afraid of the boy to whom he was fag, that he never raised his eyes above his shoes, and did not know what his face was like.

Edmund. He must have been a horrid little coward!

Aunt C. Most likely he was of a nature quite unfit for school, and these were rough times; but who knows how much the thoughtless cruelty of that boy may have had to do with his broken spirits? He grew up and studied the law, and was very happy with some young cousins, with whom, he said, he spent his time in giggling and making giggle. But when an office was vacant, to which one of his relations was going to appoint him, after an examination, he worked himself up into such an agony that a terrible attack of disease came on; and though he lived for many years longer, he could never return to the business of life. He was boarded with a clergyman at Huntingdon, named Unwin; and when Mr. Unwin was killed by a fall from his horse, his widow continued to take care of Mr. Cowper. They lived first at Olney and then at Weston, and there Cowper gardened, played with his tame hares, wrote delightful letters, and, in especial, wrote verses in a much more simple, natural style than most of those who had gone before him. Properly speaking, that first poem on the Glow-worm is his