voice, as he seems to wish to be always crowing."

"I am not partial to either squeaks or grunts, myself," said the Guinea-Fowl rather shortly, for she was glad of an opportunity of taking down the Cochin-Chinas, who she fancied were high and distant in their manners, though in truth the poor creatures were only very shy and lonely, and kept away by themselves because they felt strange and unpopular. So the CochinChina said no more about his pity for King Cockscomb, but stalked off in a slow and melancholy manner, to his favourite rick-yard; and in the meantime King Cockscomb had come out of his rage, and returned to the shrubbery, where he immediately heard such a wonderful clacking and clucking as convinced him that something unusual must be going on. In another mo

ment, guided by their voices, he found Mrs. Spangle and Mrs. Brownie standing in front of a curious sort of house, in fact an old tea-box set up on its end, in which sat Mrs. Pecker herself, on a warm comfortable nest of hay. Such words as were passing between the three I should be sorry that any one should have heard or understood, for even Mrs. Brownie, when she was out of King Cockscomb's sight, and roused by the kind of personal remarks, which Pecker knew well how to make, could peck as hard as anybody. At King Cockscomb's appearance however, there was a lull in the storm for an instant, and Mrs. Spangle took advantage of it, to tell him with a very ruffled expression of feathers, that Mrs. Pecker positively refused to come out of her house, though they told her that

he wished it, and maintained that it was her own home, and nobody had a right to disturb her in it.

"No more they have!" cried Mrs. Pecker passionately. "It was presented to me this very morning before you were up, by one of the great people at the mansion, and all the Cockscombs and Spangles in the world, shall not turn me out of it."

Unfortunate Pecker! you had better have kept a civil tongue in your head for your own sake. But a little pot is soon hot,” and Mrs. Spangle and Mrs. Brownie had really been provoking enough to make a large one boil over.

"Indeed, Madam!" cried King Cockscomb very red with rage, "we shall soon see about that!" and flying into the box, he very soon succeeded in driving Mrs. Pecker out of it, without her even daring to return the horrid knocks and pecks which he did not bestow upon her in at all a sparing manner. It was a pity that none of the people at the house could have been there to see what was going on, for they considered the Bantam family as under their particular protection, and I believe, intended to have the sole management of their domestic affairs, which was all very kindly meant, but their leading such different sort of lives themselves, not living in the periwinkle walk, or roosting in the lime-tree, and in consequence not thoroughly understanding King Cockscomb's opinions and character, made it impossible for them to regulate everything as they wished to do. How could they have the least notion, for instance, that King Cockscomb would spend half

this very morning, in strutting up and down in front of the tea-box, while the unlucky Mrs. Pecker skulked and croaked about under the laurels outside, and was flown at and driven away, whenever she made an attempt to steal round either corner into her nest again. Certainly she had the consolation of getting some breakfast, and I don't deny that the scattered grains of barley which she found between whiles here and there, were a relief to her feelings. But still it was very tyrannical conduct on King Cockscomb's part, and Mrs. Spangle and Mrs. Brownie ought to have been very sorry for it, instead of getting awav into the meadow as they did, and pretending to know nothing at all about the matter. To do her justice, Mrs. Brownie's heart did reproach her a little, and more than once she endeavoured quietly to steal back to the tea-box, and see if she could be of any use in setting things straight again. But I think that Mrs. Spangle suspected what was in her mind, for the moment Mrs. Brownie had gained a little distance, she called out, "I say, Brownie, where are you going to? have you found anything nice out there? Just let me come and see about it." It happened, however, that Mrs. Spangle presently found a remarkably sweet caterpillar, which, in her anxiety to enjoy all to herself, she immediately carried off to devour behind a nettle, and Mrs. Brownie seized the moment to squeeze through a hole in the palings, and make the best of her way to the gravelwalk. Hardly had she entered it when she saw the purple lady of the house coming along with the barley basket in her hand; and now there

was a speedy change in the state of affairs, for King Cockscomb was actually driven-one might almost say, hunted-in and out amongst the trees and periwinkles as if he had been a ferret or a toad, and scolded as if he had been a cat, or a donkey, whilst Mrs. Pecker was coaxed and pitied and encouraged to return to her house and nest again. My idea is that the purple lady was quite ignorant that Cockscomb considered himself a king, which accounts for her treating him with such disrespect; but in fact there was not a crow in the air, or a sparrow in the hedge who did know it, and therefore it was no wonder that his royal pretensions were not understood by the family at the mansion. Of course it was very trying for him that such a mistake should be made, but his spirit carried him through pretty well. In another minute he was standing on tiptoe, with Mrs. Spangle, who had finished her caterpillar, on one side of him and Mrs. Brownie on the other, and with his neck stretched upwards and his wings raised, was uttering one of his loudest and most triumphant

crows.

"I thoroughly despise it," he said, shaking his feathers, and settling them into their places again.

"I thoroughly despise and defy the purple lady and Pecker, and everything in the world! And now, my dears, let us run for the barley.”

A shower of grains was pouring upon the gravel-walk from the purple lady's basket, and so excellent was its effect upon King Cockscomb, that when their meal was over, he observed to Mrs. Spangle and Mrs. Brownie that he should not give himself any more trouble about that

foolish Pecker; if she chose to shut herself up in that dismal tea-box all day for nothing at all, she was heartily welcome, but it was his present intention to go and enjoy life in the meadow.

(To be Continued.)

CHAPTERS ON INSECTS.

CHAPTER XII.

HUMBLE BEES.

ANYONE who has watched them at all will have found out that Hive Bees and Humble Bees like quite different flowers, although there are some which both frequent. The passion-flower on our house, with its long green trails and starry blossoms, is quite alive with both in summer; but while the Humble Bees haunt a bed of rhododendrons in the garden from sunrise till long after sunset, I have seldom seen a Hive Bee among them. Perhaps this is quite as well, for honey made from this kind of flower is sometimes poisonous (to man, not to insects.) We read in the Greek history of an army being poisoned by eating some made from azaleas, which belong to the same tribe.

I know of few things more beautiful than a bank covered with rhododendrons, when the lilac blossoms are unclosed-so bright, yet so delicate, contrasting with the pure, fragile flowers of the wild convolvulus, which is very apt to get among them, and twine round their stems; and there is sure to be the music of bees among them, all day long.

Watching by a bed of rhododendrons, you