hatched her should forget her, or her sister pass her by. I wonder how these poultry-show men can reconcile it to their consciences to return a fowl like that. I declare and protest I don't think it's our own Biddy-but a changer.”

"Oh, yes," said the lady, advancing, "it is our own Biddy; but I beg of you to get rid of her at once. I cannot endure the sight of her; she has been such a bitter disappointment to me!"

"Roast or boiled?" inquired the cook, calmly. "No-no!" replied the mistress; "neither. I could not eat her; give her away, she will be certain to lay plenty of eggs; but I cannot endure her, after all my expense and trouble!"

Poor Biddy! How she railed at the world! -how she cackled against society!-how she upraised her voice against fickleness, and reiterated that the loss of her toe did not interfere with the beauty of her form, the silkiness of her plumage, or the antiquity of her family.'

"Give her away," repeated the lady, “and do not let me see her again!"

CHAPTER III.

"This was her proper sphere

Here she could ramble at her own sweet will
Beside the pond-or on the breezy hill."-ANON.
"I, in this sweet retirement, find

A joy unknown to kings;

For riches to a virtuous mind

Are vain and empty things."-POPE. "Even here-beware of pride."

BIDDY was thrust, this time unwashed, into a basket, and sent as a present to the cook's friend, a comfortable, well-to-do, kind-hearted farmer's wife, about five miles from her native home. The large farm-yard to which our friend Biddy was introduced was quite a new scene to her. She commenced digging the soil with her sharp claws, and finding there the same chalk and sand she was accustomed to find in her natal yard, she nodded her head with a satisfied air, and decided that the place was healthful for her coming brood, and that neither cramp nor rheumatism would be likely to injure their delicate forms. The poultry-house was situated on a

gentle rising-ground, which sloped down to a large pond on which were several little green islands, from which water-fowls were enjoying their pleasant excursions. The yard was sheltered by the thick fir plantation on one side, and the outhouses of the cattle on the other. The sitting and feeding-houses in her new home were paved with chalk laid upon coal ashes to keep it dry and wholesome; no clay to give cramps, no bricks to induce rheumatism; but clear, bright. sand sprinkled over all. She found a wicker nest provided, snugly divided from her neighbours. Then Biddy decided that her new home was suited to her health and respectability, and determined to obliterate the sufferings of the past by making the best of the present.

She began to look around on the friends with whom she was to live. Biddy had never associated with any but her own family; but now she fed with the giant strangers from China, the Shanghaes, with whom she had had no little curiosity to converse, for their arrival had exiled the. Dorking from her native home. Then there were. Partridge-Shanghaes, more magnificent still; tiny Bantams, with frills round their legs; and

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Dumpies-well called Dumpies, that seemed to have no legs at all; Polands or Spanish Dons, in their glossy black cloaks and hat and feathers; Bolton Greys and Gingers, with their fine plumage; Guinea Fowls, whose sad, anxious voice, calling her to "come back," at first perplexed and made the poor hen very sad every time she attempted to go out of the house; but not one of these could boast of ten toes as the Dorking Beauty had done, or was so proud of pure descent. It was known the Romans had first brought the family to England, where they still hold no mean position at the present day. She knew that some of her relations were counted among the favourites in the Royal Farm at Windsor, yet none the less valued by thrifty farmers' wives in the little homestead, by the poorest cottager, who depended on a supply of fine eggs and early chickens to assist in paying the rent. She thought more than once that too much might have been said of her perfections; and yet I am seriously afraid our Dorking was still a little-a very little conceited. She avoided thinking of her toes, but dwelt on her pure Roman ancestry; and was astonished to find

fowls could get on with eight toes only, and very little "family" at all, that anybody knew anything about. She had some idea of becoming a strongminded hen, as she had been at such a grand poultry show; but then she would have been questioned, and she knew the less she said on that subject the better: this certainly proved Biddy's sagacity.

The first day that Biddy was introduced into the new world of which she was become a member was one of unmingled astonishment. She found that in addition to the care lavished on hens and eggs, there were ducks and drakes, some in fanciful dress and foreign colours, some snowy white, but all sailing upon the pond in a manner perfectly miraculous. Nay, the pond itself seemed an ocean to one who had never before beheld more water than was contained in the earthenware pan from which she was accustomed to drink. Then there were great geese -which Biddy thought must be the swans of which she had heard, who sang songs before they died. They did not seem pleasant neighbours; they were always looking out for affronts which were never intended, which gave them