I much suspect that many a sprite

Inhabits it at dead of night;

That, as they dance, the listening ear

The pat of fairy feet might hear;

That, just as you have said your prayers, They hurry-scurry down the stairs :

And you'll do well to try to find

Tester or ring they 've left behind.

But think not, Agatha, you own
That toy, a Baby-house, alone;
For many a sumptuous one is found
To press an ampler space of ground.
The broad-based Pyramid that stands
Casting its shade in distant lands,
Which asked some mighty nation's toil
With mountain-weight to press the soil,
And there has raised its head sublime
Through æras of uncounted time,-

Its use if asked, 'tis only said,

A Baby-house to lodge the dead.

Nor less beneath more genial skies

The domes of pomp and folly rise,

Whose sun through diamond windows streams,

While gems and gold reflect his beams;

Where tapestry clothes the storied wall,

And fountains spout and waters fall;

The peasant faints beneath his load,

Nor tastes the grain his hands have sowed,

While scarce a nation's wealth avails

To raise thy Baby-house, Versailles.
And Baby-houses oft appear

On British ground, of prince or peer;
Awhile their stately heads they raise,
The' admiring traveller stops to gaze;
He looks again-where are they now?
Gone to the hammer or the plough:
Then trees, the pride of ages, fall,

And naked stands the pictured wall;

And treasured coins from distant lands Must feel the touch of sordid hands; And gems, of classic stores the boast,

Fall to the cry of-Who bids most? Then do not, Agatha, repine

That cheaper Baby-house is thine.

VOL. 1.

LOGOGRIPH.

FOR man's support I came at first from earth,

But man perverts the purpose of my birth;
Beneath his plastic hand new forms I take,
And either sex my services partake;

The flowing lawn in stricter folds I hold,
And bind in chains unseen each swelling fold;
The band beneath the double chin I grace,
And formal plaits that edge the Quaker's face:
By me great Bess, who used her maids to cuff,
Shone in the dignity of full-quilled ruff.-

Such is my whole ;-but, parted and disjoined,
New wonders in my varying form you'll find.
What makes the cit look big with conscious worth;
What bursts from pale surprise or boisterous mirth;

The sweep Rialto forms, or your fair brow-

The fault to youthful valour we allow ;

A word by which possession we denote,

A letter high in place and first in note;

What guards the beauty from the scorching ray;

What little master first is taught to say;

Great Nature's rival, handmaid, sometimes foe;

The most pathetic counterpart of "Oh!"

The whiskered pilferer and her foe demure ;

The lamps unbought which light the houseless poor; What bore famed heroes through the ranks of war;

What's heard when falls from high the ponderous jar;

What holy Paul did at Gamaliel's feet

What Bavius writes, what schoolboys love to eat;

Of eager gamesters what decides the fate;

The homely rough support of Britain's state;

What, joined to " been," is fatal to a toast;
What guards the sailor from the shelving coast;

The stage whence villains make their last harangue;
What in your head and bones gives many a pang;