The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
  For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again: 
  So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner, sly,
  And set his table ready to dine upon the fly. 
  Then he went out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
  “Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
  Your robes are green and purple—­there’s a crest upon your head—­
  Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead,”

  Alas, alas how very soon this silly little fly. 
  Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
  With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
  Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
  Thinking only of her crested head—­poor foolish thing!—­At last
  Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast.

  He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
  Within his little parlour—­but she ne’er came out again! 
  —­And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
  To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed: 
  Unto an evil counsellor close heart, and ear, and eye,
  And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.

Among the more serious pieces, we notice a beautiful lament of childhood by Mrs. Hemans, and a hymn by Mrs. Opie.

The engravings, twelve in number, with several little wood-cut tail-pieces, are beautifully executed; and altogether, the New Year’s Gift deserves a place on the cheffonier shelf of every nursery in the kingdom.

* * * * *

We have received several other “Annuals,” which we shall notice in an early Supplementary Number.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE

PUBLIC JOURNALS

* * * * *

ALBUMS

North.  ALBUMS!  James—­these compendiums of wit and wisdom have become the greatest nuisances of all civilized society——­

Shepherd.  Tuts, man—­what ails ye at Allbums?

North.  They have broken that confidence between man and woman, which, in our young day, used to form the delight of an acquaintance with an amiable and accomplished female.  In those happy times, how often have we sat in a bright circle of the fair and young, and talked, and laughed, in the gaiety of our careless hearts, without fear or apprehension!  But now we are afraid, in the presence of ladies, to give utterance to any thing beyond a remark upon the weather.  It is long since we have drilled ourselves to attribute smiles and whispers, and even squeezes of the hand, to their true source.  We see an album lurking in every dimple of a young maiden’s cheek, and a large folio common-place book, reposing its alexandrine length, in every curve of a dowager’s double chin.