hem are very much larger than
the common bat, measuring fifteen inches in the extent of their
wings.

It has been said, that the bat is nothing more than a _mouse with
wings_. Nonsense! except in its size, it has no more resemblance to the
_mouse_, than it has to the _lion_; and those who think that the two
animals are at all alike can never have examined them attentively.
However, in some parts of the country the bat is still called by its
old English name, "_the flittermouse_," that is, the mouse that
_flitters_, or _flutters_ about.

When Leatherwing had caught most of the insects at the upper end of the
pond, he thought he would try what success he could meet with lower
down; and then he came so near the oak-tree that Brush managed to make
him hear at last. So the bat, who happened to be in rather a talkative
mood, left off insect-hunting for the present, for the sake of enjoying
a little gossip with his old acquaintance. He settled on a branch close
by, but instead of sitting down like other animals, the queer little
creature chose to hang himself up by his hind-claws, with his head
downwards, and his wings closely folded round him. In this strange,
and, as most people would think, extremely uncomfortable position, old
Leatherwing began the following conversation:--

LEATHERWING.

Well, Master Brush, what do you want with me now? Just made such a
glorious supper! Do you know, I fancy that the insects about this pond
of yours are fatter and better tasted than any others, and that's the
reason I come so far after them. For _'tis_ a good way off, you know,
to the old church-tower where I live. Well, but as I was saying, what
do you want with me this evening?

BRUSH.

Why, I want to ask you a question, for to tell you the truth, yesterday
evening Mrs. B. and I had a little----

LEATHERWING.

What! a little addition to your family? you don't say so! Well, I
thought it was almost time, for we are nearly in the middle of summer.
Now do you know Mrs. Leatherwing was confined several days ago, and
that's the reason she is not with me this evening. I left her flying up
and down a shady lane nearer home, carrying her baby about with her, as
she always does, you know, till it grows pretty strong. She had only
one this time. And so Mrs. Brush is confined, is she? Well, I
congratulate you. How many has she got? Five or six, I'll be bound!

BRUSH.

She hasn't got any at all yet, Mr. Leatherwing, though w