"Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home"--
The field-mouse is gone to her nest,
The daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes,
And the bees and the birds are at rest.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home--
The glow-worm is lighting her lamp,
The dew's tailing fast, and your fine speckled wings
Will flag with the close-clinging damp.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home--
Good luck if you reach it at last:
The owl's come abroad, and the bat's on the roam,
Sharp set from their Ramazan fast.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home--
The fairy bells tinkle afar,
Make haste, or they'll catch ye, and harness ye fast
With a cobweb, to Oberon's car.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home--
But, as all serious people do, first
Clear your conscience, and settle your worldly affairs,
And so be prepared for the worst.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! make a short shrift--
Here's a hair-shirted Palmer hard by;
And here's Lawyer Earwig to draw up your will,
And we'll witness it, Death-Moth and I.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! don't make a fuss--
You've mighty small matters to give;
Your coral and jet, and ... there, there--you can tack
A codicil on, if you live.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away now
To your house in the old willow-tree,
Where your children, so dear, have invited the ant.
And a few cozy neighbours, to tea.
Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home,
And if not gobbled up by the way,
Nor yoked by the fairies to Oberon's car,
You're in luck--and that's all I've to say.
_Ibid_.
* * * * *
"THE OLD MANOR HOUSE."
The following circumstances respecting the foundation upon which Charlotte
Smith built her popular novel, "The Old Manor House," may probably prove
interesting to the public. Near Woodcot, where Mrs. Smith resided at the
time she commenced her novel, was a very old house and domain called
Brookwood, in which resided some Misses Venables, elderly maiden ladies,
whom our authoress visited; and her acquaintance with them and their
abode, gave her the idea of her romance. They kept an old housekeeper,--
one whom we may presume was quite in _keeping_ with the _house_,--whose
niece or daughter was per favour allowed to reside with her at Brookwood--
this girl, I need scarcely say, was the Monimia of the novel, nor was her
Orlando a feigned character, although a highly-ornamented one; in truth,
alas! for the shadowy beauty of romance, alas! for the spell of gorgeous
poesy, he was not more made for a hero than was Dulcinea del Toboso for a
heroine, being _the young butcher of the village_!! "Often and often,"
said the intelligent friend who favoured me with the account, "has he
supplied our family with meat when we resided at Brookwood, and the
beautiful Monimia, his wife, is only slightly disfigured by an interesting
_squint_." The same friend who had frequently rambled over the house, part
of which is now pulled down, spoke of it thus: "It was what I term an
ancient _Vandyked_ building, in toto an old manor-house; the exterior had
a castellated appearance, nor had the interior much less, with its dim
vasty apartments, sliding panels for the secretion of treasure, and secret
passages; in one of the chambers is a closet, wherein part of the boarding
of the floor is made to slide, and when moved, reveals a kind of vault,
the descent down which is by a long narrow flight of steps; use is made of
this, I think, in 'The Old Manor House,' but some friends of mine who went
down discovered nothing but a gloomy kind of den, not capable of
containing more than six persons standing, and nearly filled with
_oyster-shells_. Do you recollect," continued my friend, "in which of
Charlotte Smith's novels it is that she describes an eccentric old
gentleman manuring his ground with _wigs_? because the fact is, it
_really_ was done by such a one at Brookwood."--_New London Literary
Gazette_.
* * * * *