ntly and tried and tried again:"
And once again the whisper like a moral wandered by,
_Perseverance is a virtue, said the spider to the fly._

Then he moaned, "My heart is hungry; but I fear I cannot eat,
(Of course I speak entirely now of spiritual meat!)
For I only fed an hour ago, but if we calmly sat
While I told you all my troubles in a confidential chat
It would give me _such_ an appetite to hear you sympathise,
And I should sleep the better--see, the tears are in my eyes!
Dead yearnings are such dreadful things, let's keep 'em all alive,--
Let's sit and talk awhile, my dears; we'll dine, I think, at five."
And he brought his chair beside us in his most engaging style,
And began to tell his story with a melancholy smile.--

"You remember Miss Muffet
Who sat on a tuffet
Partaking of curds and whey;
Well, _I_ am the spider
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away!

"There was nothing against her!
An elderly spinster
Were such a grammatical mate
For a spider and spinner,
I swore I would win her,
I knew I had met with my fate!

"That love was the purest
And strongest and surest
I'd felt since my first thread was spun;
I know I'm a bogey,
But _she's_ an old fogey,
So why in the world did she run?

"When Bruce was in trouble,
A spider, my double,
Encouraged him greatly, they say!
Now, _why_ should the spider
Who sat down beside her
Have frightened Miss Muffet away?"

He seemed to have much more to tell,
But we could scarce be listening well,
Although we tried with all our might
To look attentive and polite;
For still afar we heard the thin
Clear fairy-call to Peterkin;
Clear as a skylark's mounting song
It drew our wandering thoughts along.
Afar, it seemed, yet, ah, so nigh,
Deep in our dreams it scaled the sky,
In captive dreams that brooked no bars
It touched the love that moves the stars,
And with sweet music's golden tether
It bound our hearts and heaven together.

SONG

_Wake, arise, the lake, the skies
Fade into the faery day;
Come and sing before our king,
Heed not Time, the dotard grey;
Time has given his crown to heaven--
Ah, how long? Awake, away!_

Then, as the Hermit rambled on
In one long listless monotone,