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FLORIAN'S FABLES.

Its hospitable bed and board.
So in an old and hollow tree,
       The dog for shelter search'd,
While his good friend, the squirrel, he
       Among the branches perch'd.
Towards midnight, at that solemn hour
When to their crimes sly murd'rers creep,
When somnolence asserts its power,
And our two friends were sunk in sleep,
Lo! an old fox athirst for blood,
Came prowling through the silent wood.
He saw the squirrel on a limb,
       And thus accosted him:—
"My friend, I pray you pardon me,
I would not so intrusive be
As to disturb your sweet repose,
But that I'm dying to disclose
My true heart-felt felicity
       To find that you and I
In blood relationship are nigh:
We're cousins of the first degree!
For your good mother, I've heard said,
Was sister to my worthy sire,
Who bade me, on his dying bed,
For you, his nephew, to inquire,
And give you half the legacy
       He left for me.
So haste, my friend, come down I pray,
And have your portion right away.
I burn to meet you face to face,