1 A well-known insect, when full grown, about two inches in length, and of the exact color of a green leaf. It is of the genus cicada, or grasshopper kind, inhabiting the green foliage of trees and singing such a song as Caty-did in the evening toward autumn.

Tell me, what did Caty do? Did she mean to trouble you?. Why was Caty not forbid To trouble little Caty-did? Wrong, indeed, at you to fling, Hurting no one while you sing Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

Why continue to complain? Caty tells me, she again

Will not give you plague or pain:-
Caty says you may be hid

Caty will not go to bed
While you sing us Caty-did.

Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

But, while singing, you forgot To tell us what did Caty not: Caty-did not think of cold, Flocks retiring to the fold, Winter, with his wrinkles old, Winter, that yourself foretold When you gave us Caty-did.

ON A HONEY BEE DRINKING FROM A GLASS
OF WINE AND DROWNED THEREIN

Thou, born to sip the lake or spring,
Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come on vagrant wing?-
Does Bacchus tempting seem—
Did he, for you, this glass prepare?—
Will I admit you to a share?

Did storms harass or foes perplex,
Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay—
Did wars distress, or labors vex,
Or did you miss your way?-
A better seat you could not take
Than on the margin of this lake.

Welcome! I hail you to my glass:
All welcome, here, you find;
Here, let the cloud of trouble pass,
Here, be all care resigned.—
This fluid never fails to please,

And drown the griefs of men or bees.

What forced you here, we cannot know,

And you will scarcely tell

But cheery we would have you go

And bid a glad farewell:

On lighter wings we bid you fly,

Your dart will now all foes defy.

Yet take not, oh! too deep a drink,

And in this ocean die;

Here bigger bees than you might sink,
Even bees full six feet high.

Like Pharaoh, then, you would be said
To perish in a sea of red.

Do as you please, your will is mine;
Enjoy it without fear-

And your grave will be this glass of wine,
Your epitaph-a tear-

Go, take you seat in Charon's boat,
We'll tell the hive, you died afloat.

neau.

HUGH H. BRACKENRIDGE

Hugh Henry Brackenridge was born in Scotland in 1748, but at the age of five was brought to America by his parents, who settled in York County, Pennsylvania, near the Maryland border. There he was brought up and, by dint of hard work and wide journeyings after books, secured a good elementary education. At fifteen he became teacher in a Maryland school, which he soon left to attend Princeton. Supporting himself at the college by teaching lower classes, he was able to acquire a sound training in the classics and to study theology; in addition, he made the friendship of two promising fellow-students, James Madison and Philip FreBetween him and Freneau there grew up especially cordial relations. They wrote together a Commencement poem for the year 1771. Several years later, when Brackenridge became head of a seminary in Maryland, he secured his friend as assistant. In his next venture, editing the United States Magazine, he again had the aid of Freneau, who became a principal contributor. During the war Brackenridge served as chaplain in the Revolutionary army. Afterward he studied law, and in 1781 settled in the frontier town of Pittsburgh. There he speedily rose to prominence in his profession and politics, and in time he became the recognised head of the Western bar. After the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794, he was accused of disloyalty to his government, but in a voluminous pamphlet, Incidents of the Insurrection, published in Philadelphia in 1795, he thoroughly vindicated his conduct. From 1800 to his death in 1816 he was a justice of the Supreme Court of the state. During the Revolutionary period Brackenridge wrote much patriotic verse and prose, the best example being a drama (written for the students in his seminary), The Battle of Bunkers-Hill. He is best known, however, for the prose satire on democracy, Modern Chivalry, a kind of "aboriginal classic" of the West,