TRICK FIFTH.

If, in village or in town, You've an uncle settled down, Always treat him courteously; Uncle will be pleased thereby. In the morning: "'Morning to you! Any errand I can do you?" Fetch whatever he may need,— Pipe to smoke, and news to read; Or should some confounded thing Prick his back, or bite, or sting, Nephew then will be near by, Ready to his help to fly; Or a pinch of snuff, maybe, Sets him sneezing violently: "Prosit! uncle! good health to you! God be praised! much good may't do you!" Or he comes home late, perchance: Pull his boots off then at once, Fetch his slippers and his cap, And warm gown his limbs to wrap. Be your constant care, good boy, What shall give your uncle joy. Max and Maurice (need I mention?) Had not any such intention. See now how they tried their wits— These bad boys—on Uncle Fritz. What kind of a bird a May- Bug was, they knew, I dare say;

In the trees they may be found, Flying, crawling, wriggling round.

Max and Maurice, great pains taking, From a tree these bugs are shaking.

In their cornucopiæ papers, They collect these pinching creepers.

Soon they are deposited In the foot of uncle's bed!

With his peaked nightcap on, Uncle Fritz to bed has gone; Tucks the clothes in, shuts his eyes, And in sweetest slumber lies.

Kritze! Kratze! come the Tartars Single file from their night quarters.

And the captain boldly goes Straight at Uncle Fritzy's nose.

"Baugh!" he cries: "what have we here?" Seizing that grim grenadier.

Uncle, wild with fright, upspringeth, And the bedclothes from him flingeth.

"Awtsch!" he seizes two more scape- Graces from his shin and nape.

Crawling, flying, to and fro, Round the buzzing rascals go.

Wild with fury, Uncle Fritz Stamps and slashes them to bits.

O be joyful! all gone by Is the May bug's deviltry.

Uncle Fritz his eyes can close Once again in sweet repose.

This was the bad boys' fifth trick, But the sixth will follow quick.