some one
came and picked him to put on a gridiron. I do not lay up any store,
because I know I shall die when the summer ends, and what is the use of
wealth then? My store and my wealth is the sunshine, dear, and the blue
sky, and the green grass, and the delicious brook who never ceases sing,
sing, singing all day and night. And all the things are fond of me, the
grass and the flowers, and the birds, and the animals, all of them love
me. So you see I am richer than all the ants put together." "I would
rather be you than an ant," said Bevis. "I think I shall take you home
and put you under a glass-case on the mantelpiece."

Off jumped the grasshopper in a moment, and fell so lightly on the grass
it did not hurt him in the least, though it was as far as if Bevis had
tumbled down out of the clouds. Bevis tried to catch him, but he jumped
so nimbly this way and that, and hopped to and fro, and lay down in the
grass, so that his green coat could not be seen. Bevis got quite hot
trying to catch him, and seeing this, the grasshopper, much delighted,
cried out: "Are you not the stupid boy everybody is laughing at for
letting the weasel go? You will never catch the weasel."

"I'll stamp on you," said Bevis, in a great rage.

"S----s," called the grasshopper--who was frightened at this--to his
friends, and in a minute there were twenty of them jumping all round in
every direction, and as they were all just alike Bevis did not know
which to run after. When he looked up there was the brook close by, and
the drinking-place where the birds were to meet and bathe. It was a spot
where the ground shelved gently down from the grass to the brook; the
stream was very shallow and flowed over the sandy bottom with a gentle
murmur.

He went down to the brook and stood on the bank, where it was high near
a bush at the side of the drinking-place. "Ah, dear little Sir Bevis!"
whispered a reed, bending towards him as the wind blew, "please do not
come any nearer, the bank is steep and treacherous, and hollow
underneath where the water-rats run. So do not lean over after the
forget-me-nots--they are too far for you. Sit down where you are, behind
that little bush, and I will tell you all about the bathing." Bevis sat
down and picked a June rose from a briar that trailed over the bush, and
asked why the birds bathed.

"I do not know why," said the reed. "There is no why at all. We have
been listening to the brook, me and my family, for ever s