ed every tone might pity win; t not a soul would take them in. Our wandering saints, in woful state, eated at this ungodly rate,

ving through all the village past, a small cottage came at last

ere dwelt a good old honest yeoman I'd in the neighbourhood Philemon; 10 kindly did these saints invite his poor hut to pass the night; d then the hospitable sire I goody Baucis mend the fire; ile he from out the chimney took litch of bacon off the hook, d freely from the fattest side

t out large slices to be fried; en stepp'd aside to fetch them drink I'd a large jug up to the brink, d saw it fairly twice go round; = (what is wonderful!) they found was still replenish'd to the top, if they ne'er had touch'd a drop. e good old couple were amaz’d, d often on each other gaz'd; both were frightened to the heart, d just began to cry, ' What ar't!' en softly turn'd aside to view ether the lights were burning blue. pod folks, you need not be afraid, are but saints,' the hermits said O hurt shall come to you or yours: for that pack of churlish boors, - fit to live on Christian ground, y and their houses shall be drown'd;

Dis

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Aloft rose every beam and rafter,
The heavy wall climb'd slowly after;
The chimney widen'd and grew higher,
Became a steeple with a spire.

The kettle to the top was hoist,
And there stood fasten'd to a joist ;
Doom'd ever in suspense to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.

A wooden jack which had almost
Lost by disuse the art to roast,
A sudden alteration feels,
Increas'd by new intestine wheels;
The jack and chimney, near allied,
Had never left each other's side:
The chimney to a steeple grown,
The jack would not be left alone;
But up against the steeple rear'd,
Became a clock, and still adhered.
The groaning chair began to crawl,
Like a huge snail, along the wall;
There stuck aloft in public view,
And with small change a pulpit grew.
The cottage, by such feats as these,
Grown to a church by just degrees,
The hermits then desired the host
To ask for what he fancied most.
Philemon, having paus'd awhile,
Return'd them thanks in homely style :
'I'm old, and fain would live at ease;
Make me the parson, if you please.'

I ho

But

And

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us happy in their change of life several years this man and wife. on a day, which prov'd their last, ursing on old stories past,

went by chance, amidst their talk, churchyard to take a walk; Baucis hastily cried out,

lear, I see your forehead sprout!'
ut!' quoth the man; 'what's this you tell us?
- you don't believe me jealous!

et, methinks, I feel it true;
eally yours is budding too—
-now I cannot stir my foot;
s as if 'twere taking root.'
ption would but tire my muse;
rt, they both were turn'd to yews.
J. Swift.

'Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,' he said,
'And riddle us both as one;

Whether I shall marry with fair Ellinor,
And let the brown girl alone ?'

'The brown girl she has got houses and land,
And fair Ellinor she has got none;
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
Bring me the brown girl home.'