THE EAGLE AND THE OWL.

The Owl and Eagle once were apt to quarrel;
But, wiser grown they long'd for peace.

I know not which of them obtain'd most laurel;
But, as both thought that war had better cease,
The one on a king's honour swore,
And by an owl's the other,
That they, sweet peaceful souls,
Would, from that moment, ever more,
All sparks of former hatred smother;
And ne'er, though hungry, kill and eat
Each other's little ones, however sweet,
But let the eaglets live, and tiny owls.

But, in the head of wisdom's bird,

Popt this sage question-" Though thy word,
Dear friend, I doubt not, fain I'd learn
(And thou the reason wilt discern)

Whether the race of owls, and most my own,
To thee are personally known.”

"No!" cried the Eagle, "none ere met my sight." "Then," cried the mother, in a fright,

"For my sweet little ones I tremble!"

Why so, dear friend?" the Eagle said, "Suppress this foolish dread;

Tell me what owlets most resemble;
Describe them so as I may know them,
(Thy own especially) and I'll forego them.
Nay! may I from my throne be hurl'd,
If I would kill thy dears for all the world!"
The owl bow'd low, and on her heart
Her claw in gratitude she laid;
And then, with fond, deceptive art,
Her young ones thus pourtray'd—

"My dears are always small, well made, and beautiful, All other owls above, as well as dutiful.

Thou, by their beauty, wilt at once

Know them for owls, and wilt be sure they're mine,
Therefore thou wilt to spare them all incline,
Nor on their lovely forms destroying pounce."

The Eagle then repeated to himself,

(Not knowing she for Dresden took her Delf) "Small, beautiful, well made!

O! without further aid,

I now must know them, and if e'er I meet them,
As I'm a gentleman, I will not eat them."
"Thanks!" cried the Owl, and bade good bye,
While her friend soar'd along the sky;
And she into a hole retir'd

Within a moss-crown'd rock; and there,
Ere many days expir'd,

She gave the owlet darlings birth,
Sweet objects of her tender care,

Whom, ere they grac'd the earth,

She bade her dread ally, the Eagle spare.
And he, in truth, of noble nature,

Would have rejoic'd to spare each owlet creature,
Had not the weakly partial owl,

Quite blinded by the strong control

Of My and MINE, the pronoun call'd POSSESSIVE, Described her ugly race as fraught with every grace, And fam'd indeed for beauty e'en excessive.

But this maternal and too common blindness
Made vain the royal bird's intended kindness;-
For when, one luckless day,

Upon his sounding wings

He sought for prey

Within the hole upon the rock,

And spy'd some wry-nosed, croaking things,

Big-eyed and hideous,

And with heads so prodigious,

They gave his feelings quite a shock,

He could not think he saw those birds so pretty, Whom he was taught to admire as well as pity; "No, no," said he,

"These can not be

The owlets I was ask'd to spare;
These monsters, and not beauties, are;
And, with their ugliness o'erpower'd,
I think them only fit to be devour'd;
So, sans façon, I shall upon them sup;"
Then, in a trice, they all were eaten up!
When the too partial owl return'd,
And found the nest bereft;

And, of the forms she left,

Nought but the bony feet remaining,
Oh! loud indeed was her complaining;
And like another Niobe she mourn'd.

Then to the gods the sufferer went,
In hopes Minerva, her protector,
Would in her sorrows not neglect her;
But bring to punishment condign,
The false destroyer of the owlet line.
"No!" cried Minerva, "I'm too just for that;
Thou hast to blame thyself,

Vain-glorious elf!

For thy poor owlets' most untimely fate;
Thou bad'st the royal bird expect to find

In them the brightest of the feather'd kind,
And when he monsters saw, instead of beauties,
(As he declares in self-defence,)

How, in the name of common sense,
Could he believe he saw thy dears?
Therefore, with no misgiving fears,
He thought it one of his first duties
To put an end to such a frightful race.

Know then, poor injured one, though hard's thy case, 'Twas not the royal bird's unkindness

That kill'd thy darlings, but their mother's blindness.

Before thy partial sight

They seem'd so fair and bright,

Merely because they offspring were of thine.
The loss thou'rt doom'd to moan

Was caus'd by the resistless sway

Of that imperial pronoun,

Which all the vain obey:

Henceforth, be on thy guard 'gainst MY and MINE.

"

CHAPTER V.

THE SUBJECT RESUMED.

I SHALL now return to my subject. As competition is always great, as I have said before, in proportion to its closeness, contemporaries, that is, those who are of the same age and standing in society, come into the most immediate competition, and are therefore likely to yield to the temptations consequent on rivalry. I have often heard both men and women, who have readily admitted the worldly prosperity, the charms, the talents, and virtues, of those who were avowedly older or younger than themselves, speak doubtfully of the asserted pretensions of their immediate contemporaries; and if it is remarked that they are very young looking for their age, the respondents have hesitatingly said, "Do you think so? I can not say I am of that opinion;" adding, No, I think they look full as old as they are. Let me see! we were at school together, and I know I was at least by two or three years the youngest.

66

There is also an obvious jealousy amongst persons of talent and acquirement residing in a country town. Those who are accustomed to