I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee,
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing, while thou on pressèd flowers dost sleep.'
RAVO, young Hercules!' exclaimed Sir Lionel
Shelley, as, on a cold, bleak January evening, he
was ushered into the family apartment of some distant relatives, who resided in the north of England. 'My word! I shall pity the poor partridges ten years hence!'
This remark was addressed to a boy of about nine years of age, who, after scanning the visitor for a moment with childlike but inquiring scrutiny, laid down a gun he had for some minutes previously been perseveringly trying to shoulder, and, taking up a book, retired to a window-seat, as if wishing to avoid further notice.
'And how are my good cousins?' continued the gentleman, crossing the apartment to where a lady with a baby on her knee, formed the most striking figure of a picturesque group.
A sweet smile of welcome was Mrs. Bosanquet's reply, while her husband rose in surprised haste, to greet his unexpected