I am so very different myself. You can't think what trouble I've had with them all. And I'm so very rich and prosperous myself, I've a right to talk to them. My wealth is all gained by my own exertions, for I rose from nothing; and I am very proud of the fact. Indeed, I am

thinking of having a coat of arms drawn out for myself. Let me show you the design. You

see the shield contains a full-blown mushroom proper, growing in a lump of dirt, and the motto is, 'Sprung from nothing.'

"How wonderfully clever!" said the Toadstool, admiringly. "We are of the same family. Pray oblige me by allowing me to quarter your arms with mine."

"I'm grieved I cannot comply with your request," said the Mushroom, regretfully, "but I keep all my own things for myself. I am more than kind to my own relations; but I don't allow my personal comforts and appliances to be interfered with."

"Pompous hypocrite!" muttered the Toadstool, in a rage; while the Mushroom took his

departure from the stump, and located himself temporarily in the ditch.

"I declare I'm getting better already," panted the Peziza. "I do think I was dying, for want of air; and it was impossible to breathe, under the shade of that odious Mushroom."

"Is it not delightful," answered the Cup Moss, cordially, "to be quit of him, with his impertinent interference, and his egotistical ideas of duty?"

“I feel so relaved in my moind,” shouted the Club Moss, "that I long to vint me falings. I'm ready to thrash anybody that likes wid all the pleasure in life, jist out of pure joy."

No one accepted his disinterested offer; so he good-naturedly and wisely expended his superfluous energy, by fetching back poor Mrs. Moss and her tribe for a visit, to share in the general reconciliation.

"Ungrateful creatures!" said the Mushroom, indignantly, "when I tried to give them all a right sense and notion of their duties."

"I dare say you thought so," remarked the

Nettle, drily; "but I know pretty nearly as much of the world as you imagine you do, clever and experienced as you think yourself. And so, for once in a way, put a bit of good sound advice into your own box. When you come fresh into a family, and are not thoroughly acquainted with all the habits and tempers of every member of it, and its secret histories besides, take my word for it, that least said is soonest mended. Be content with keeping your own dish whole; for you'll only poke fresh holes, while you think you are mending other people's breakages, and, perhaps, end in a case of wholesale smash yourself."

152

THE ILL-TEMPERED WEATHERCOCK.

"CREAK! Creak!"

Oh, dear!" sighed the Tiles, "there is that horrid noise again."

"Pray what is the matter?" inquired the Chimney-pot; for he was a new comer, and had only just been put up.

"Why, it is that disagreeable Weathercock! grumbled the Tiles; "he's always making a fuss about something."

"Creak! Creak! Creak!"

"Dear me," cried the Chimney Pot anxiously (for he was a good sort of creature), "there's something the matter with him! Poor dear creature, perhaps he is ill:-I shall call at once and inquire."

Accordingly the Chimney Pot, taking advan

tage of a favourable puff of wind, turned her cowl round, and accosted the Weathercock in the most sympathising manner possible, asking him if she could be of any service to him.

"No," groaned the Weathercock, "you can't. Creak! Creak! Nothing good can ever happen to me. I was always unlucky, and the sport of every breeze that went by. It's no use trying to get over it-for I am fated to be unhappy."

"But what's the matter?" pursued the shining merry-looking Chimney Pot; "what particular trouble are you enduring now ?"

66

"All sorts of troubles," groaned the Weathercock; in fact, I am the toy and sport of everybody. In the first place I'm dreadfully rusty, -owing to my long life of exposure to the weather,—so that I suffer terribly when I am obliged (as I often am) to take exercise. In the second place, my gay paint and gilding are all washed off, till I've no shade of colour left. And both of these misfortunes I may thank the Rain for. Such a spiteful foe as he is! Now pouring down all his torrents in a deluge upon