al personages--giants, ghosts, and
fairies--have been entirely banished from her pages, as tending not only
to enervate the infant mind, and unfit it for the reception of more
wholesome nutriment, but also to increase the superstitious terrors of
childhood,--the editor has not less scrupulously excluded those novel-like
stories of exaggerated sentiment, which may now almost be said
to form the staple commodity of our nursery literature."--(_Preface_.)
Accordingly, we have in the _New Year's Gift_ three historical pieces
and engravings, illustrating the murder of the young princes in the
Tower; Arthur imploring Hubert not to put out his eyes; and another.
There are from thirty to forty tales, sketches, and poems, among which
are a pretty story, by Mrs. Hofland; a Cricketing Story, by Miss Mitford,
&c. There are two or three little pieces enjoining humanity to animals,
and some pleasing anecdotes of monkeys and tame robins, and a few lines
on the Reed-Sparrow's Nest:--

Only see what a neat, warm, compact little thing!
Mister Nash could not build such a house for the king;
Not he, let him labour his best.

Among the poetry are some graceful lines by Mr. Watts to his son;
but our extract must be "The Spider and the Fly, a new version of
an old story," by Mrs. Howitt. It is a lesson for all folks--great
and small--from the infant in the nursery to the emperor of Russia,
the grand signior of Turkey, and the queen of Portugal--or from those
who play with toy-cannons to such as are now figuring on the theatre
of war:--

"Will you walk into my parlour" said a spider to a fly:
"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to show you when you are there."
"Oh, no, no!" said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary with soaring up so high,
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin;
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."
"Oh, no, no!" said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do,
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have, within my pantry, good store of all