CHAPTER V.

BIDDY'S BLUE-STOCKING FRIEND, MRS. TURKEY.

"Can you sympathize? If not, you are not fit for friendship." "Can you give your little sister the 'first bite' on the rosy cheek of your apple? If you can, you are worthy to be a brother and a friend."

"Can you, when in the wrong, blame yourself, and say, I did it, though no one was present to tell? Then you will make a good friend."

"Can you rejoice, and show you do, when your nurse comes to see you, though the bully of the school is present, and calls you 'milksop?' Then you will make a brave friend."

THERE was at the farm a particularly grand Turkey-hen, who was considered the "clever turkey" of her circle. She certainly did not wear "blue stockings," but for all that she was a "learned lady," and I really believe her legs were a blue-black. Biddy made a confidant of her, and told her all her history, and she decidedly told Biddy the truth, and endeavoured, as a dear, good, true friend always does, to correct her faults. Turkey hens are not very sensible, but this hen was a splendid exception to the general rule. She gave Biddy her opinions fully and clearly; and Biddy gave her

some hints as to the education of her young brood, which were more successful than her experiments on young ducks.

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"Mistress Biddy," said Dame Turkey to her, one evening when they had wandered into one of the "runs,” and only paused for an occasional scratch," or a snap at a passing fly—" Mistress Biddy, what a noble character you would have been but for your vanity! and yet you are not so much to blame as might be supposed; it was fostered by an injudicious parent. She was fascinated by your beauty. You were, I dare say, a very pretty chicken; but as years advanced," continued Dame Turkey, stretching her head and her leg at the same moment-" as years advanced, you wanted dignity. You are always in a hurry and in a bustle-always. You do not take things calmly, as I do. If you gave yourself time for consideration, you could not make such mistakes as you did about the duck."

"We have not all the same habits-not the same nature," cackled Mistress Biddy, softly. "I learned that, as you know, from experience; but what I did was with the best intention. Your turkey poults are quiet, gentle things;

not like my bustling, run-here and run-there chickens. And I am sure, you told me only yesterday, that since you had adopted some of my plans, you managed them better."

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Quite true," replied the Turkey, "and I am quite ready to admit that you are the best mother in the poultry-yard; but to go back to your one fault, my dear, the cook nursed your vanity quite as much as your mother. I cannot bear cooks: the horrid way they have of lifting us up to find out how heavy we are, is dreadful. I assure you they never look at one of us but with a desire to ascertain how we should appear on a dish! I must say no cook ever flattered me, and certainly the cook who flattered you did you a great deal of harm-they all combined to make you vain of your beauty, either real or supposed."

"I fear they did," said Mistress Biddy, meekly.

"And it is a weak-minded vanity to be vain of beauty," persisted Dame Turkey.

"It is, indeed," said Mistress Biddy.

"Beauty," continued the Turkey, after swallowing about a dozen gnats at a snap-" Beauty

is altogether independent of ourselves. We do not make it; and no matter how much we cherish it, or how tight we hold it, we cannot keep it-it will go away."

"Some retain their beauty a long time," put in Biddy, meekly, (she had caught sight of her shadow in a pool of water); "and it is a gift more or less to all the world. All our young ones are so pretty-I cannot help admiring them."

"But you need not tell them so, my friend; that stuff about beauty spoiled you. If you had not been vain of your straight white legs and your ten toes you would not have thrust them out as you did, and then your toe would not have been sacrificed to the rapacity of some envious bird."

"Perhaps it was good for me," replied Biddy. "If I had not lost my toe, I should have continued the weak, vain creature I was,-perhaps never considered the duties of domestic life, or become, as I hope I have in a moderate way, a useful member of society."

"Very likely, my dear," replied the Turkey, as she sprang into the air after an incautious

daddy-long-legs; "but take care that your besetting sin is not busy now, and has whispered into your ear this very suggestion."

"I tell you what I have been thinking, my dear friend," said Biddy, after a pause, occasioned perhaps by her half-insane efforts to swallow a worm, who had a great objection to be swallowed, "I tell you what-I am quite willing to admit that amongst all my faults I have one prominent!—my vanity; and it has been the source of a great deal of unhappiness to me and my friends-that is very certain; but, I want to tell you, dear Dame Turkey, who are so very clever, and so very wise, that I think as we have all faults, some no bigger than a pin-feather, others as large as a goose-quill, we ought to be very merciful to each other's failings; even the Magpie has her good qualities, poor thing."

"I dare say she has," answered Dame Turkey, though I have never discovered them.”

"I fear that neither you nor I tried to do so," continued Biddy.

"It is very difficult to set honestly about finding out good qualities in those we dislike or despise," murmured the Turkey.