In short, a thing of faultless mould,
Fit for a maiden empress' palace.
So round and round--I knew no better--
I fluttered, nearer to the heat;
Methought I saw an offered letter--
Now I but see my winding-sheet.

Some pearly drops fell, as for grief---
Oh, sad delusion;--ah, poor Moth!
I caused them not; 'twas but a thief
Had got within to wrong us both,
Now I am left quite in the dark,
The light's gone out that caused my pain;
Let my last gaze be on that spark--
Kind breezes, blow it in again.

Then snuff it well, when once rekindled,
Whoe'er about its brilliance lingers,
But though 'twere to one flicker kindled,
Be careful, or you'll burn your fingers.
It sought not me; and though I die,
On such bright cause I'll cast no scandal--
I fled to one who could not fly--
Then blame the Moth, but not the Candle.

_Ibid._

* * * * *

THE GATHERER.

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."
SHAKSPEARE.

THE LAST FRIEND.

A respectable character, after having long figured in the gay world of
Paris, was at length compelled to live in an obscure retreat in that
city, the victim of severe and unforeseen misfortunes. He was so indigent
that he subsisted on an allowance from the parish every week; a quantity
of bread was sent to him sufficient for his support; and yet, at length,
he demanded more. On this the curate sent for him--he went. "Do you live
alone?" said the curate. "With whom, sir," answered the unfortunate man,
"is it possible I should live? I am wretched, you see that I am, since
I thus solicit charity, and am abandoned by all the world." "But, sir,"
continued the curate, "if you live alone, why do you ask for more bread
than is sufficient for yourself?" The other was quite disconcerted, and
at last, with great reluctance, confessed that he had a dog. The curate
did not drop the subject; he desired him to observe "that he was only
the distributor of the bread that belonged to the poor, and that it was
absolutely necessary that he should dispose of his dog." "Ah! Sir,"
exclaimed the poor man weeping, "and if I lose my dog, who is there then
to love me?" The good pastor melting into tears, took his purse, and
giving it to him, "Take _this_, sir," said he, "this _is_ mine; this I
_can_ give you."

W.G.C.

* * * * *

ELECTIONEERING PIETY.

In the year 1768, the fol