.

"The dog's mad!" cried the swineherd, seizing a pitchfork.

"You're a fool," said the farmer (who wasn't). "There's some one behind
that haystack, and the old watch-dog's back is up. See! there he runs;
and as I'm a sinner, it's that black rascal who was loitering round, the
day my ricks were fired, and you lads let him slip. Off after him, for I
fancy I see smoke." And the farmer flew to his haystacks.

Hungry and tired as he was, Flaps would have pursued his old enemy, but
Daisy would not let him go. She took him by the ear and led him indoors
to breakfast instead. She had a large basin of bread-and-milk, and she
divided this into two portions, and gave one to Flaps and kept the other
for herself. And as she says she loves Flaps, I leave you to guess who
got most bread-and-milk.

That was how the gipsy came to live for a time in the county gaol, where
he made mouse-traps rather nicely for the good of the rate-payers.

And that was how Flaps, who had cared so well for others, was well cared
for himself, and lived happily to the end of his days.

* * * * *

"Why, it's in print!" said Father Cock; "and I said as plain as any cock
could crow, that it was a secret. Now, who let it out?"

"Don't talk to me about secrets," said the fair foreigner; "I never
trouble my head about such things."

"Some people are very fond of drawing attention to their heads," said
the common hen; "and if other people didn't think more of a great
unnatural-looking chignon than of all the domestic virtues put together,
they might have their confidences respected."

"I's all very well," said Father Cock, "but you're all alike. There's
not a hen can know a secret without going and telling it."

"Well, come!" said a little Bantam hen, who had newly arrived;
"whichever hen told it, the cock must have told it first."

"What's that ridiculous nonsense your talking?" cried the cock; and he
ran at her and pecked her well with his beak.

"Oh! oh! oh!" cried the Bantam.

Dab, dab, dab, pecked the cock.

"Now! has anybody else got anything to say on the subject?"

But nobody had. So he flew up on to the wall, and cried
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

[Illustration]

A WEEK SPENT IN A GLASS POND.

BY THE GREAT WATER-BEETLE.

Very few beetles have ever seen a Glass Pond. I once spent a week in
one, and though I think, with good management, and in society suitably
selected, it may be a comfortable home