Willy 'true, like Richard the First being a lion, and King Stephen a fox?'

Uncle Peter nodded again.

'And I think, my dears,' he said, 'the more you know about kings and queens the more true you will find it.'

The little party remained silent for a short time; and in the meanwhile Willy whispered to Mary, and Mary whispered to Harry, and their faces became grave and quiet.

Then Willy, who was the general spokesman, said with some hesitation

Uncle, may we ask you one question?'

'Certainly,' said Uncle Peter.

'We want to know,' continued Willy,' whether little Mary said her prayers when she went to bed, and why she did not say her prayers in the prison, if she wanted to get out?'

Uncle Peter looked rather perplexed-not that he was surprised at the question itself, or surprised that children should put questions which philosophers find it difficult to answer. However, after a little

pause, he said,

'Do you remember, my dears, when you were going to play in the hay-field last summer, and you, Mary, wanted to take your Prayerbook into the field to learn your collect at the same time, Aunt Rachel said "No, it was not proper," and she would only let you take a story book with you, and not the Prayer-book?'

'Yes,' said Mary.

'That was because it is not reverent or good to mix up play with solemn and holy things; and so I said nothing about little Mary repeating her prayers, because my story was a play story, and it would not be reverent to mix up such kind of truths with fairy tales. Do you understand me?'

Yes, uncle, I think I do,' was the answer; but the little hearers were not yet satisfied, and Willy asked if he might have another question answered before they all went to bed.

'Certainly,' said Uncle Peter. 'What is it?'

'Then please tell us, uncle,' said Willy, how did little Mary contrive to get home so quickly when the island was such a distance off?'

'Oh! I know,' exclaimed Eleanor; because her mamma, to be sure, wrote a letter, or sent a message to the emperor. Was not that it, uncle?'

'But how did she get out of prison without knowing it?' asked Willy, perseveringly.

'I think,' said Harry, 'that the fairy came when she was asleep and took her back in her carriage.'

'But the fairy's peacocks were lame, were they not?' said Willy, still doubtful and unsatisfied.

'But then they might have got well by that time,' said Eleanor. Mary alone looked as if she had some secret opinion of her own well worth telling, but which she resolved to keep to herself. At last, unable to refrain from exhibiting her own sagacity, she came to Uncle Peter's chair, and climbing up, she whispered in his ear, 'Do you know, uncle, I think it was all a dream?' Uncle Peter quite started to hear such a notion.

'Dream! my dear-how could you think of such a thing?'

'Oh! I hope it was not a dream,' cried Harry; 'I would not give anything for dreams. It was not a dream, was it, uncle?'

'And why shouldn't you like it to be a dream?' asked Uncle Peter.

Oh, uncle! because it is not real; and dreams are all so stupid.' 'But you do not think there ever was a real fairy, or a real island of the kind, do you, Harry?' asked Mary, rather scornfully and majestically.

'No,' said Harry; 'I know all that is make-believe, as well as you do. But I do not like stories that turn out to be dreams; they are very stupid, that they are.'

Uncle Peter checked the little disputants by holding up his finger. 'All I can say about it, my dears,' he added, 'is, that nearly all the persons I ever heard of who have had anything to do with fairies and giants, became acquainted with them much as little Mary did, and got out of their hands in much the same manner--nobody knows how. So that the way in which Mary fell in with the fairy, while she was sitting, tired perhaps, on that hot day under the thorn, and the way in which she escaped from the prison, cannot be said to differ from the facts that are stated respecting persons who have been in the company of fairies before.'

The poor children were evidently not much enlightened by this explanation; but Uncle Peter would say no more: and if he had been asked why he had said so much, he could have given a philosophical reason for it, of great depth and reflection, but with which it is not necessary to trouble his readers at present.

There was a general silence for a short space; and then Harry could not help exclaiming—

'I should have liked to cut off that cruel emperor's head-that I should!'

'And the wicked prime minister's too,' said Eleanor.

'But then Mary was very naughty, was not she, uncle?' said Willy.

'Yes, my dear; but even if kings and queens are naughty, that is no reason why their subjects should be naughty also.'

'And we'll all fight for Queen Victoria, won't we?' cried Harry. 'And if enemies come, we'll cut off their heads, instead of letting them cut off the Queen's.'

'I hope, my dears,' said Uncle Peter, 'that enemies will not come; but if they do, I hope you will all fight for your queen and country. So now, Mary, let us have "God save the Queen," and you must then wish me good night, for I want to read my book.'

Uncle Peter then took his book, which was Shakspeare's Plays; and, as there was a little bird looking over his shoulder at the time, who saw all that he was doing, I think I can tell the passage which he began to read. It was the following, which perhaps some other persons may like to read also :

Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,

Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and
Our sins, lay on the king; we must bear all.
O hard condition! twin-born with greatness,
Subjected to the breath of every fool,

Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing!
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect

That private men enjoy!

And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?

What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?

What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd,

Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?

Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That playd'st so subtly with a king's repose:

I am a king, that find thee; and I know
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,-
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year
With profitable labour, to his grave:

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.'

Henry V., Act iv. Scene 1.

POSTSCRIPT.

UNCLE PETER sends his kind regards to all little boys and girls, from the age of eight to fourteen. Uncle Peter has learnt, with sorrow, that they are all subject to be afflicted with a painful and dangerous disorder called Discontentalgia, or 'The King and Queen Fever.' And he knows how bad it is, because he once had a severe attack of it himself when he was quite young; and his little nephews and nieces are only just recovering from it, having caught it by reading a long account in their grandmamma's Illustrated London News of a grand entertainment given by Queen Victoria, at Windsor Castle, to the Emperor of Russia and the King of Saxony, and a great many lords and ladies besides.

Uncle Peter, having devoted many years to the study of this dangerous disease, is convinced that there is no certain and infallible cure for it, but that all the little boys and girls, who, when seized by it, wish to be kings and queens, should be made kings and queens in reality. For it is a well-known fact, that few, if any, persons have ever been kings and queens without being willing to give a good deal to be rid of the trouble, and to become something else. But as Uncle Peter finds, upon inquiry, that there are only about thirty or forty kings and queens in the world, including the Emperor of Morocco, Queen Pomare, and the King of the Gypsies,-while, on a moderate computation, there must be two or three millions of children, who would have to be cured in this way,-it is of no use to think of this remedy.

Another mode of cure has been prescribed by Dr. Whiphem, at his establishment for young gentlemen at Turnham Green; and this has been found to answer sometimes, when the symptoms are very bad, and break out in fretfulness, laziness, grumbling, envy, idleness, slovenliness, and the like; especially when during the lessons the eyes are fixed up in one corner of the ceiling, and the patient is found to be dreaming of anything else rather than of his book. This remedy consists in the application of a strong decoction of Birchwood to the shoulders, or of two or three feet of cane (not sugar cane) to the palms of the hands, till they swell and look red, and the patient cannot bear it any longer.

Uncle Peter, however, has tried a milder treatment, with great

success, upon his own little nephews and nieces; and has much satisfaction in announcing to the Faculty and to the Public generally, that by allowing the unhappy patients to see what is likely to befall them, if they ever become kings or queens, much the same effect is produced in allaying the disorder, as by their actually coming to the throne. Uncle Peter has taken care to use no ingredients in the composition of his medicinal story which are not common, and easy of occurrence, in some shape or other, to all kings and queens.

He has also the gratification of announcing that he has received the following letter of approbation from a lady of high rank, who is willing to give her name if required:

'SIR, I beg to offer you my grateful thanks for your invaluable recipe for the cure of Discontentalgia, or "The King and Queen Fever," with which my daughter Louisa has been afflicted for several years, with the worst symptoms that I have ever known. After administering to her a dose of twenty pages of "Little Mary," she was enabled to eat her bread and milk at breakfast with a hearty relish. I applied thirty more the next day, according to the instructions in the printed paper, and am happy to say that it enabled her to attend far better than she had ever done both to her writing and geography. And after continuing the treatment, at proper intervals, for a week, I have had the great gratification of finding that she was perfectly cured, and confessed with her own lips that she should not like to be a queen at all.

'I consider, Sir, that your discovery is a real blessing to mothers, and an invaluable specific for the complaint in question. And I shall be obliged by your sending me immediately a case containing six volumes of it, for the use of the young persons in my neighbourhood.

'I remain, Sir,

'Your obedient Servant,