like to be taught, and in a very little time we shall be able to make you the most learned and the most amiable of men. Will you go with me?" "With all my heart," replied the child, "but on condition that the ladies, of whom you tell me, shall be only my teachers, and that you alone shall be my mamma.' Saying these words, he took up from the ground a little bag, which seemed to be filled with bits of stick, and, throwing it over his shoulder, he desired Thalia to give him her hand. The Muse asked him what he had in his bag? "Oh! nothing!" replied he, "only my playthings." He then began to sing a song, which had neither tune nor words; and sometimes putting his feet together, and jumping over the bushes in his way, and sometimes stopping to ask the Muse if she could not tell him where there was a bird's nest, he at length reached the summit of the mountain.

The first care of Thalia was, to clothe him in the most magnificent manner. She then resolved to take entirely upon herself the task of educating him. "Can you read?" said she. "Not very well," replied the boy. "No doubt you have a good memory?" "I have often been accused of being deficient in that," said he; "but with you I shall have a better one than I had with others."

Thalia, who was soon fonder of him than a mother is of her son, was afraid that her sisters would become as fond of him as she herself was, and she, therefore, resolved to hide him from them. She had a lofty hedge made round an orchard, and in this sort of prison she kept the child on whom she doted. Here the Muse came ten times a day, to give him his lessons. Never did any scholar learn more rapidly than he did. It was quite enough to tell him a thing once, for him to know it better than his mistress. Poor Thalia taught him, in a short time, all that she knew; but, while she gave him science, she lost her own peace. Her tenderness every day increased; she sighed without knowing why; and very soon her hours of teaching were spent in gazing upon her pupil. "Mamma!" said

The boy was well aware of this.

he to her, "I am quite sure that you love me dearly, "So and this encourages me to ask a favour of you." that you do not ask to go away from me," replied Thalia, "I swear that I will refuse you nothing." "Listen to me, then," said the boy: "you always carry in your hand a mask, which I think a charming one. It laughs so gaily and so naturally, that I cannot help longing for it. If you do not give it to me, I can assure you that I shall die of vexation; and then, which of us two will be the most vexed? It will be you." It was in vain that Thalia represented to him that this mask was the mark of her divinity. "When you have given it to me," replied the boy," it will be the mark of your affection for me; which do you like best?" "Take it," said Thalia, with a sigh, and the rogue of a child jumping upon her neck, put the mask into his bag.

"But this is not all," added he; 66 you have taught me every thing you know, but you promised me more. I want to learn music, dancing, astronomy, philosophy, and all possible sciences, that I may be more indebted to you, and be able to please you still more. Do have the goodness to let me out of the orchard, that I may go and take lessons from each of your sisters. I will soon come back to shut myself up with you, and devote to your amusement all the talents which I have acquired.”

Who would not have been seduced by such pleading? The credulous Thalia opened the gate for the boy, and even carried her kindness so far as to recommend him to each of her sisters. This, however, was quite unnecessary; for they very soon loved him as well as Thalia did. The boy ran from the one to the other, and made it his sport to turn the brains of the daughters of Jupiter. The grave Melpomene was the one who held out the longest against him; but she yielded at last like Calliope, and like Urania, who had endeavoured to defend themselves. As to Terpsichore, Euterpe, and Polyhymnia, they adored him almost as soon they beheld him.

Thus all the nine sisters were captivated by the same object. From this moment they were sisters no longer.

Jealousy, envy, distrust, entered, for the first time, into their minds. These chaste females, who had never before had but one feeling, one will, now watched, hated, and quarrelled with, each other. Every thing fell into confusion upon Parnassus; the arts were neglected, the concerts were interrupted. To complete their misfortune, this was the very moment that Minerva fixed upon to pay a visit to the Muses.

How great was her surprise when she arrived upon the sacred mountain! Instead of the songs of gladness which used to greet her presence, she found every where a deep silence. The Muses dispersed, pensive, solitary, scarcely knew her. She complained; she threatened. The nine sisters at last were assembled together, and they strove to sing the praises of their protectress; but their voices were no longer in unison: they had forgotten their hymns, and not one of them had her distinguishing attribute. Melpomene had given her poniard to the child, and, fearing that he might hurt himself with it, she had blunted the point; Calliope had made him a present of her trumpet; Euterpe had lent him her lyre; Urania her astrolabe. In short, the attributes of the Muses were all become the playthings of this child.

This was not the last shame which they had to suffer. While they were trying to make excuses, they saw the fatal boy fluttering near them in the air. He held all his thefts in his hand. "Good bye!" said he to them, with a laugh. "Do not forget me; I am Love! It always costs something to get acquainted with me!"

The prudent Minerva then gave a very moral lecture to the daughters of Jupiter, who listened respectfully to her, and endeavoured to palliate their fault, by assuring her that the guilty boy had so cunningly contrived to hide his wings, that they had never been perceived by any one among them.

R. A. D.

The Pocket Magazine.

LINES ON THE GRAVE OF A CHILD.

Он, sweet my baby! liest thou here,

So low, so cold, and so forsaken ?
And cannot a sad father's tear
Thy once too lovely smiles awaken ?
Ah, no! within this silent tomb
Thy parents' hopes receive their doom!

Oh, sweet my baby! round thy brow
The rose and yew are twined together;
The rose was blooming-so wast thou-
Too blooming far for death to gather.

The yew was green,-and green to me
For ever lives thy memory.

I have a flower, that press'd the mouth
Of one upon his cold bier lying,
To me more fragrant than the south,
O'er banks of op'ning violets flying;
Although its leaves look pale and dry,
How blooming to a father's eye!

Oh, sweet my baby! is thine head
Upon a rocky pillow lying,

And is the dreary grave thy bed

Thy lullaby a father's sighing?

Oh, changed the hour since thou didst rest
Upon a mother's faithful breast!

Oh! can I e'er forget the kiss

I gave thee on that morn of mourning,—
That last sad tender parting bliss
From Innocence to God returning !
May'st thou repay that kiss to me
In realms of bright eternity!

THEATRICALS EXTRAORDINARY.

-high placed in Smithfield.-CHURCHILL.

THE labour we delight in is precisely that which has seldom been selected by critics of a common order; it is the labour of tracing merit to its farthest recesses, of evincing its claims, and procuring its reward. The prosecution of this object hath exposed us more than once to the fury of the bigoted and the ignorant, and even writers of clear comprehension and sound probity have sometimes quarrelled with our motives, and disputed our deductions. This, however, may be explained by the words of honest Brantome: Que c'est d'avoir affaire à une langue et plume venimeuse, qui, quand elle est piquée, n'espargne rien. Such, at least, is the solution that experience has taught us to admit, and that anger, for we cannot conceal our feelings, excites us to apply.

In pursuance of this system, we went on Wednesday, the 6th of September, to Richardson's theatrical establishment in Bartholomew Fair, and we should falsify every notion with which the gaiety, splendour, and elegance of that delightful resort has impressed us, if we were to refrain from bestowing our enthusiastic approbation upon the taste and spirit with which its entertainments were pervaded. The liberal, acute, and enterprising Lessee of this concern had announced an entire "change of performance each day;" but owing to the truly electrical effect of the pieces originally produced, the public voice necessitated their repetition, and for eight-and-forty hours they were suffered to pursue their triumphant career of success, without abatement or interruption.

Fully conscious that the literary attributes of his theatre demanded the most serious consideration, the Proprietor devoted himself with intense ardour to the production of pieces distinguished by their poetical merit. For this purpose, a gentleman, well known in the world of letters by his designation of A. B., was re