round the pond with her mate, might have softened the heart of the most inveterate gossip; and she could not understand why every heart appeared steeled against her.

The Game-cock was as fierce as if he had lived all his life in his native jungle, and would have tomahawked not only Lilly Aylesbury, but every duck and drake upon the pond; though it was rather to indulge himself in his love of fighting, than from any desire to avenge the cause of the little neglected ducklings. Still, he stalked round the yard in a very threatening attitude, which dispersed the crowd, and at last put the Magpie to flight, for if there was any one the Magpie was afraid of, it was the savage Gamecock.

Biddy was really a kind creature, in spite of her ignorance and conceit (they always go hand in hand); her chickens were out of the nursery at least a month earlier than they would have been in her old quarters, and this left her more time for meditation on things around her, and gave her leisure to think and reason on the past. She made friends with the great Shanghaes, whom she no longer considered as rivals; they seemed

uncouth at first to the eyes of our English beauty, but their disposition was so amiable and gentle, they were universally liked, and not a hen in the yard envied them their celebrity.

She ceased to wonder at the cry of the Guineafowl which had at first surprised her, for she found on farther acquaintance, that the Guineafowl had lost nearly as many children as the duck. She was so fond of travelling through the fields and plantations, that oftentimes her young ones were tired to death, and never came home again. She was a bird without discretion, and would not give up her wandering propensities, but thought the young Guinea-fowls must enjoy rambling as much as herself. She sat twenty-eight days on her eggs, which Biddy thought should have given her time to consider how to rear them in a better manner. Every one would have welcomed the pensive Guineafowl, who was wild and shy, and faithful as the Pigeon, but she would choose her home in some rude covert if she could, instead of the pleasant chamber prepared for her, and loved it beyond all others; but the lady-traveller was very exclusive, and loved best to dwell among her own

kind. And in spite of the meal porridge and barley for the moulting season, and wheat in abundance, and boiled rice, and oatmeal, and barley for the chickens, the Guinea-fowl preferred seeking her own food where she could, in the fields and fir plantations, and joining the large flock of her family, which was called "a pack."

CHAPTER IV.

"Desiring to do right, yet lacking skill

To work it out,-gentle and generous,

She did her best,—but, wanting knowledge, failed."

"Now, listen to reason, my good Dame Duck,—

Now listen to reason," said she.

"Reason," repeated the Duck, "Quack! quack!

What's reason?-pray tell unto me!"

"Reason!" repeated the Dorking.

"Reason is reason, you know."

"Yes,

"No, I don't," said the Duck. "Then, my friend, I confess
That you are most exceedingly slow."

BIDDY'S beautiful brood was now on the wide, wide world, and she thought she had a good opportunity to pay a friendly visit to Lilly Aylesbury. She told her she had taken the opportunity of calling on her to explain the superiority of the Dorking system of bringing up a young family, and volunteered to convince her that the use of cold water was a very dangerous experiment, though she, being a duck of extraordinary strength, and low family, might put up with it; yet, it was plain enough that she was