243 



queen-mother without a cortejo would be quite a novelty in the 

 Spanish annals. The mother of Phillip IV. had her Falenzuela, the 

 mother of Ferdinand her Godoy. Christina, the mother of Isabella., 

 is not singular, therefore, in this respect. But do you really think 

 there is any truth in the on dits in circulation such, for example, as a 

 splendid box sent lately from Paris bearing the initials of the queen 

 and those of her favourite entwined? But, unfortunately, the breath 



of slander does not stop here ; it has even been reported that " 



" I know what you would say," said the Spaniard, interrupting 

 me. " But can you wonder at the ccarts of the imagination, when 

 in these matters you must know il ny a que le premier pas qui coule." 



THE TWO THRUSHES. 



FROM THE SPANISH OF YRIABTE. 



A SAGE old Thrush was once discipling 



His grandson Thrush (a hair-brain'd stripling) 



In the purveying art. He knew, 



He said, where vines in plenty grew, 



Whose fruit delicious when he'd come 



He might attack ad libitum. 



" Ha !" said the young one, ec where's this vine- 

 Let's see the fruit you think so fine." 

 " Come then, my child, your fortune's great, you 

 Can't conceive what feasts await you !" 

 He said, and gliding through the air 

 They reached a vine, and halted there. 



Soon as the grapes the youngster spied, 

 " Is this the fruit you praise ?" he cried : 

 " Why, an old bird, Sir, as you are, 

 Should judge, I think, more wisely far 

 Than to admire, or hold as good, 

 Such half-grown, small, and worthless food. 

 Come, see a fruit which I possess 

 In yonder garden ; you'll confess, 

 When you behold it, that it is 

 Bigger and better far than this." 

 " I'll go," he said, " but, ere I see 

 This fruit of your's, whate'er it be, 

 I'm sure it is not worth a stone, 

 Or grape-skin from my vines alone." 



They reached the spot the thruslet named, 

 And he triumphantly exclaimed 

 " Shew me the fruit to equal mine ! 

 A size so great a shape so fine ; 

 What luxury, however rare, 

 Can e'en your grapes, with this compare ?" 

 The old bird stared, as well he might, 

 For lo ! a pumpkin met his sight ! 



Now, that a Thrush should take this fancy, 

 Without much marvelling I can see ; 

 But it is truly monstrous, when 

 Men, who are held as learned men, 

 All books, whate'er they be, despise, 

 Unless of largest bulk and size. 

 A book is great, if good at all, 

 If bad it cannot be too small. 



