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diff --git a/old/60065-0.txt b/old/60065-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9136ea9..0000000 --- a/old/60065-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2943 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wings and Stings, by A. L. O. E. - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Wings and Stings - A Tale for the Young - -Author: A. L. O. E. - -Release Date: August 6, 2019 [EBook #60065] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINGS AND STINGS *** - - - - -Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - - - -WINGS AND STINGS. - - -[Illustration: COMING TO THE RESCUE - - _page 48_] - - - - -[Illustration] - - WINGS AND STINGS. - - A Tale for the Young. - - BY - - A. L. O. E., - - AUTHOR OF “THE SILVER CASKET,” “THE ROBBERS’ CAVE,” - ETC. ETC. - - How doth the little busy bee - Improve each shining hour, - And gather honey all the day - From every opening flower! - - WATTS. - - LONDON: - T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; - EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. - - 1879. - - - - -Preface. - - -What is the use of a preface? Most of my young readers will regard it -as they would a stile in front of a field in which they were going to -enjoy haymaking; as something which they hastily scramble over, eager -to get to what is beyond. Such being the case, I think it best to make -my preface as short, my stile as small as possible, not being offended -if some of my friends should skip over it at one bound. To the more -sober readers I would say, If you look for some fun in the little field -which you are going to enter, remember that in haymaking there is -profit as well as amusement; in turning over thoughts in our minds, -as in turning over newly-mown grass, we may “make hay while the sun -shines,” which will serve us when cloudier days arise. - - A. L. O. E. - -[Illustration] - - - - -Contents. - - - I. THE BIG HIVE AND THE LITTLE ONE, 9 - - II. SOME ACCOUNT OF A WATERFALL, 26 - - III. A FLATTERING INVITATION, 36 - - IV. HOME LESSONS AND HOME TRIALS, 46 - - V. CONVERSATION IN THE HIVE, 59 - - VI. A STINGING REPROOF, 69 - - VII. A WONDERFUL BORE, 80 - - VIII. A CHASE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES, 88 - - IX. PRISONS AND PRISONERS, 109 - - X. A CONFESSION, 117 - - XI. A SUDDEN FALL, 131 - - XII. AN UNPLEASANT JOURNEY, 140 - - XIII. WINGS AND STINGS, 151 - - - - -[Illustration] - -WINGS AND STINGS. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE BIG HIVE AND THE LITTLE ONE. - - -“Had you not better go on a little faster with your work, Polly?” said -Minnie Wingfield, glancing up for a minute from her own, over which her -little fingers had been busily moving, and from which she now for the -first time raised her eyes. - -“I wish that there were no such thing as work!” exclaimed Polly, from -her favourite seat by the school-room window, through which she had -been watching the bees thronging in and out of their hive, some flying -away to seek honied treasure, some returning laden with it to their -home. - -“I think that work makes one enjoy play more,” replied Minnie, her -soft voice scarcely heard amidst the confusion of sounds which filled -the school-room; for there was a spelling-class answering questions at -the moment, and the hum of voices from the boys’ school-room, which -adjoined that of the girls, added not a little to the noise. - -The house might itself be regarded as a hive, its rosy-cheeked scholars -as a little swarm of bees, and knowledge as the honey of which they -were in search, drawn, not from flowers, but from the leaves of certain -dog’s-eared books, which had few charms for the eyes of Polly Bright. - -“I never have any play,” said the little girl peevishly. “As soon -as school is over, and I should like a little fun, there is Johnny -to be looked after, and the baby to be carried. I hate the care of -children--mother knows that I do--and I think that baby is always -crying on purpose to tease me.” - -[Illustration: THE BIG HIVE.] - -“Yet it must be pleasant to think that you are helping your mother and -doing your duty.” - -Polly uttered a little grunting sound, which did not seem like -consent, and ran her needle two or three times into her seam, always -drawing it back instead of pushing it through, which every one knows is -not the way to get on with work. - -“Why, even these little bees,” Minnie continued, “have a sort of duty -of their own; and how steadily they set about it!” - -“Pretty easy duty,--playing amongst flowers and feasting upon honey!” - -“Oh but--” - -“Minnie Wingfield, no talking allowed in school!” cried the teacher -from the top of the room, turning towards the corner near the window. -“Polly Bright, you are always the last in your class.” - -This time the lazy fingers did draw the needle through, but a cross, -ill-tempered look was on the face of the little girl; while her -companion, Minnie, colouring at the reproof, only worked faster than -before. - -We will leave them seated on their bench, with their sewing in their -hands, and passing through the little window, as only authors and -their readers can do, cross the narrow garden, with its small rows of -cabbages and onions, bordered by a line of stunted gooseberry bushes, -and mixing with the busy inhabitants of the hive, glide through the -tiny opening around which they cluster, and enter the palace of the -bees. Now I have a suspicion that though my young readers may be -well acquainted with honey-comb and honey, and have even had hives -on a bench in their own gardens, they never in their lives have been -inside one, and are totally ignorant of the language of bees. For your -benefit, therefore, I intend to translate a little of the buzzing -chit-chat of the winged nation; and, begging you to consider yourself -as little as possible, conduct you at once to the palace of Queen -Farina. - -A very curious and beautiful palace it is; the Crystal Palace itself -is not more perfect in its way. Look at the long lines of cells, -framed with the nicest care, row above row, built of pure white wax, -varnished with gum, and filled with provisions for the winter. Yonder -are the nurseries for the infant bees; these larger apartments are -for the royal race; that, largest of all, is the state-chamber of -the queen. How strait are the passages--just wide enough to let two -travellers pass without jostling! And as for the inhabitants of this -singular palace, or rather, I should say, this populous city, though -for a moment you may think them all hurrying and bustling about in -utter confusion, I assure you that they are governed by the strictest -order--each knows her own business, her own proper place. I am afraid -that before you are well acquainted with your small companions, you may -find some difficulty in knowing one from another, as each bee looks as -much like her neighbour as a pin does to a pin. I am not speaking, of -course, of her majesty the queen, distinguished, as she is, from all -her subjects by the dignified length of her figure and the shortness -of her wings; but you certainly would not discover, unless I told you, -that the little creature hanging from the upper comb is considered -a beauty in Bee-land. You must at once fancy your eyes powerful -microscopes, till a daisy is enlarged to the size of a table, and the -thread of a spider to a piece of stout whip-cord; for not till then can -you find out the smallest reason why Sipsyrup should be vain of her -beauty. Yet why should she not pride herself on her slender shape or -her fine down? Vanity may seem absurd in a bee, but surely it is yet -more so in any reasonable creature, to whom sense has been given to -know the trifling worth of mere outside looks; and I fear that I may -have amongst my young readers some no wiser than little Sipsyrup. - -She is not buzzing eagerly about like her companions, who are now -working in various parties; some raising the white walls of the cells; -some carrying away small cuttings of wax, not to be thrown away, but -used in some other place, for bees are very careful and thrifty; -some putting a fine brown polish on the combs, made of a gum gathered -from the buds of the wild poplar; some bringing in provisions for the -little workmen, who are too busy to go in search of it themselves. -No; Sipsyrup seems in her hive as little satisfied as Polly in her -school-room, as she hangs quivering her wings with an impatient -movement, very unworthy of a sensible bee. - -“A fine morning this!” buzzed an industrious young insect, making -bee-bread with all her might. I may here remark that the subject of the -weather is much studied in hives, and that their inhabitants show a -knowledge of it that might put to shame some of the learned amongst us. -I am not aware that they ever make use of barometers, but it is said -that they manage seldom to be caught in a shower, and take care to keep -at home when there is thunder. - -“A fine morning, indeed,” replied Sipsyrup. “Yes; the sunshine looks -tempting enough, to be sure; no doubt the flowers are all full of -honey, and the hills covered with thyme; but of what use is this to -a poor nurse-bee like me, scarcely allowed to snatch a hasty sip for -myself, but obliged to look after these wretched little larvæ” (that is -the name given to young baby-bees), “and carry home tasteless pollen to -make bread for them, when I might be enjoying myself in the sunshine?” - -“We once were larvæ ourselves,” meekly observed Silverwing. - -“Yes, and not very long ago,” replied Sipsyrup rather pertly, glancing -at the whitish down that showed her own youth; for it was but three -days since she had quitted her own nursery, which may account for her -being so silly a young bee. - -“And but for the kindness of those who supplied our wants when we were -poor helpless little creatures, we should never have lived to have -wings,” continued her companion. - -“Don’t remind me of that time,” buzzed Sipsyrup, who could not bear -to think of herself as a tiny, feeble worm. “Anything more weary and -tiresome than the life that I led, shut up all alone in that horrid -cell, spinning my own coverlet from morning till night, I am sure that -I cannot imagine. Ah, speaking of that spinning, if you had only seen -what I did yesterday.” - -“What was that?” inquired Silverwing. - -“As I flew past a sunny bank, facing the south, I noticed a small hole, -at the entrance of which I saw one of our cousins, the poppy-bees. Her -dress, you must know, is different from ours” (Sipsyrup always thought -something of dress). “It is black, studded on the head and back with -reddish-gray hairs, and her wings are edged with gray. Wishing to -notice a little more closely her curious attire, I stopped and wished -her good-day. Very politely she invited me into her parlour, and I -entered the hole in the bank.” - -“A dull, gloomy place to live in, I should fear.” - -“Dull! gloomy!” exclaimed Sipsyrup, quivering her feelers at the -recollection; “why, the cell of our queen is a dungeon compared to it. -The hole grew wider as we went further in, till it appeared quite roomy -and large, and all round it was hung with the most splendid covering, -formed of the leaves of the poppy, of a dazzling scarlet, delightful to -behold. Since I saw it, I have been scarcely able to bear the look of -this old hive, with its thousands of cells, one just like another, and -all of the same white hue.” - -“Had the poppy-bee a queen?” inquired Silverwing. - -“No; she is queen, and worker, and everything herself; she has no one -to command her, no one to obey; no waspish companion like Stickasting -there.” - -“What’s that? who buzzes about me?” cried a large thick bee, hurrying -towards them with an angry hum. Stickasting had been the plague of -the hive ever since she had had wings. She was especially the torment -of the unfortunate drones, who, not having been gifted with stings -like the workers, had no means of defence to protect them from their -bullying foe. When a larva, her impatient disposition was not known. -She had spun her silken web like any peaceable insect, then lain quiet -and asleep as a pupa or nymph. But no sooner did the young bee awake -to life, than, using her new powers with hearty good-will, she ate her -way through the web at such a quick rate, that the old bees who looked -in pronounced at once that she was likely to be a most active worker. -Nor were they disappointed, as far as work was concerned; no one was -ready to fly faster or further, no one worked harder at building the -cells; but it was soon discovered that her activity and quickness were -not the only qualities for which she was remarkable. If ever bee had a -bad temper, that bee was Stickasting. Quarrelling, bullying, attacking, -fighting, she was as bad as a wasp in the hive. No one would ever -have trusted larvæ to her care. Sipsyrup might neglect or complain -of her charge, but Stickasting would have been positively cruel. Her -companionship was shunned, as must be expected by all of her character, -whether they be boys or bees; and she seldom exchanged a hum, except of -defiance, with any creature in the hive. - -Sipsyrup, the moment that she perceived Stickasting coming towards her, -flew off in alarm, leaving poor Silverwing to bear the brunt of the -attack. - -“Who buzzes about me?” repeated Stickasting fiercely, flying very close -up to the little nurse-bee. - -“Indeed, I never named you,” replied Silverwing timidly, shrinking back -as close as she could to the comb. - -“If you were not talking against me yourself, you were listening to and -encouraging one who did. Who dare say that I am waspish?” continued -Stickasting, quivering her wings with anger till they were almost -invisible. “It is this gossip and slander that make the hive too hot -to hold us. I once thought better of you, Silverwing, as a quiet -good-natured sort of a bee, but I now see that you are just like the -rest, and as silly as you are ugly.” - -This was a very provoking speech--it was intended to be so; but -Silverwing was not a creature ready to take offence; whatever she felt, -she returned no answer--an example which I would strongly recommend to -all in her position, whether standing on six feet or on two. - -But Stickasting was resolved to pick a quarrel if possible, especially -with one whom she considered less strong than herself; for she was -not one of those generous beings who scorn to take advantage of the -weakness of another. Stickasting much resembled the class of rude, -coarse-minded boys, who find a pleasure in teasing children and -annoying little girls, and like to show their power over those who dare -not oppose it. - -“I owe you a grudge, Silverwing, for your conduct to me yesterday. When -I was toiling and working at the cells like a slave, not having time to -go out for refreshment, I saw you fly past me two or three times, and -not a drop of honey did you offer me.” - -“I was carrying pollen for my little larvæ,” gently replied Silverwing. -“It is not my office to supply the builders, though I am sure that -I should do so with pleasure; but the baby-bees are placed under my -charge, and you know what care they need till they begin to spin.” - -“Yes, idle, hungry, troublesome creatures that they are! Have they not -set about their spinning yet? I’ll make them stir themselves,”--and -Stickasting made a movement towards the nursery-cells. - -“The larvæ do not like to be disturbed!” cried Silverwing, anxious for -her charges, and placing herself between them and the intruder. - -“Like! I daresay not,--but who cares what they like! Get out of the -way; I’ll prick them up a little!” - -“You shall not come near them!” hummed the little nurse, resolutely -keeping her place. - -“I say that I shall,--who shall hinder me? Get out of my way, or I’ll -let you feel my sting.” - -Silverwing trembled, but she did not stir, for she was a faithful -little bee. As the hen is ready to defend her chickens from the hawk, -and even the timid wren will fight for her brood, so this feeble insect -would have given up her life rather than have forsaken the little ones -confided to her care. - -But she was not left alone to struggle with her assailant. Two of her -winged companions came to the rescue; and Stickasting, who had no wish -to encounter such odds, and was fonder, perhaps, of bullying than of -fighting, no sooner saw Waxywill and Honeyball on the wing, than with -an angry hum she hurried out of the hive. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER II. - -SOME ACCOUNT OF A WATERFALL. - - -I wish that all little nurses were as trustworthy as Silverwing, or -as kind and patient with their charges! While Polly Bright has sat in -her mother’s cottage trimming her bonnet, till it looks as absurd as -pink ribbons can make it, the poor baby has been crying unheeded in -his cradle, except that now and then, when vexed more than usual by -the noise, with an almost angry look she pauses for a moment to rock -the cradle with her foot. She does not notice that little Johnny has -been clambering up by the pail, which her mother has set aside for her -washing, till the sudden sound of a fall, and a splash, and a child’s -frightened cry, startle her, and she sees little streams running all -over the stone floor, and Johnny flat on his face in the middle of a -loud roar,--and a pool of water. - -[Illustration: A MISHAP.] - -Up she jumps, not in the best of tempers. Poor Johnny is dragged up by -one arm, and receives one or two slaps on the back, which only makes -him cry louder than before; he stands a picture of childish misery, -with dripping dress and open mouth, the tears rolling down his rosy -cheeks, helpless and frightened, as his careless sister shakes and -scolds him, and shakes him again, for what was the effect of her own -negligence. - -Happily for the little boy, Minnie Wingfield is a near neighbour, and -comes running at the sound of his distress. - -“Why, what is the matter, my dear little man?” are her first words as -she enters the cottage. - -“Look here! did you ever see anything like it? His dress clean on -to-day! I cannot turn my back for a moment but he must be at the -pail,--naughty, tiresome, mischievous boy!” and poor Johnny received -another shake. “A pretty state the cottage is in,--and there--oh, my -bonnet! my bonnet!” exclaimed Polly, as she saw that in her hurry and -anger she had thrown it down, and that, pink ribbons and all, it lay on -the floor, right across one of the little streams of water. - -“Never mind the bonnet; the poor child may be hurt, and--oh, take care, -the baby will be wetted!” and without waiting for Polly’s tardy aid, -Minnie pushed the cradle beyond reach of danger. - -While Polly was yet bemoaning her bonnet, and trying to straighten -out its damaged ribbons, Minnie had found out something dry for the -shivering little boy, had rubbed him, and comforted him, and taken him -upon her knee; then asking him to help her to quiet poor baby, had -hushed the sickly infant in her arms. Was there no pleasure to her kind -heart when its wailing gradually ceased, and the babe fell into a sweet -sleep,--or when Johnny put his plump arms tight round her neck, and -pressed his little lips to her cheek? - -There are some called to do great deeds for mankind, some who bestow -thousands in charity, some who visit hospitals and prisons, and live -and die the benefactors of their race. But let not those who have -not power to perform anything _great_, imagine that because they can -do little, they need therefore do nothing to increase the sum of -happiness upon earth. There is a terrible amount of suffering caused by -neglect of, or unkindness to, little children. Their lives--often how -short!--are embittered by harshness, their tempers spoiled, sometimes -their health injured; and can those to whose care the helpless little -ones were confided, imagine that there is no sin in the petulant word, -the angry blow, or that many will not have one day to answer for all -the sorrow which they have caused to their Lord’s feeble lambs, to -those whose spring-time of life should be happy? - -Would my readers like to know a little more of Minnie Wingfield, whose -look was so kind, whose words were so gentle, that her presence was -like sunshine wherever she went? She lived in a little white cottage -with a porch, round which twined roses and honeysuckle. There was a -little narrow seat just under this porch, where Minnie loved to sit -in the summer evenings with her work, or her book when her work was -done, listening to the blackbird that sang in the apple-tree, and the -humming of the bees amidst the blossoms. Little Minnie led a retired -life, but by no means a useless one. If her mother’s cottage was the -picture of neatness, it was Minnie who kept it so clean. Her brother’s -mended stockings, his nicely-washed shirts, all did credit to her neat -fingers. Yet she could find time to bestow on the garden, to trim the -borders, to water the plants, to tie up the flowers in which her sick -mother delighted. Nor did Minnie neglect the daily school. She was not -clever, but patient and ever anxious to please; her teacher regarded -her as one of her best scholars, and pointed her out as an example to -the rest. But Minnie’s great enjoyment was in the Sunday-school; there -she learned the lessons which made duty sweet to her, and helped her on -the right way through the week. The small Bible which had been given to -her by her father, with all his favourite verses marked, was a precious -companion to Minnie: not studied as a task-book, or carelessly read -as a matter of custom; but valued as a treasure, and consulted as a -friend, and made the rule and guide of daily life. - -And was not Minnie happy? In one sense she certainly was so, but still -she had her share of this world’s trials. The kind father whom she -had fondly loved had died the year before; and besides the loss of so -dear a friend, his death had brought poverty upon his family. It was -a hard struggle to make up the rent of the little cottage, which Mrs. -Wingfield could not bear to quit, for did not everything there remind -her of her dear husband,--had he not himself made the porch and planted -the flowers that adorned it! Often on a cold winter’s day the little -fire would die out for want of fuel, and Minnie rise, still hungry, -from the simple meal which she had spared that there might be enough -for her parent and her brother. - -[Illustration: MINNIE WITH THE FIREWOOD.] - -Mrs. Wingfield’s state of health was another source of sorrow. She -was constantly ailing, and never felt well, and though saved every -trouble by her attentive child, and watched as tenderly as a lady -could have been, the sufferings of the poor woman made her peevish and -fretful, and sometimes even harsh to her gentle daughter. - -Tom, her brother, was also no small trial to Minnie. Unlike her, he -had little thought for anything beyond self; he neither considered the -comfort nor the feelings of others. If Minnie was like sunshine in the -cottage of her mother, Tom too often resembled a bleak east wind; and -though Mrs. Wingfield and her daughter never admitted such a thought, -their home was happiest when Tom was not in it. - -But it is time to return to our hive. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER III. - -A FLATTERING INVITATION. - - -Waxywill and Honeyball had both come to the assistance of Silverwing, -and she buzzed her thanks in a grateful way to both, though different -motives had brought them to her aid, for they were very different bees -in their dispositions. - -Honeyball was a good-humoured, easy kind of creature. Very ready to -do a kindness if it cost her little trouble, but lazy as any drone in -the hive. Honeyball would have liked to live all day in the bell of a -foxglove, with nothing to disturb her in her idle feast. It was said in -the hive that more than, once she had been known to sip so much, that -at last she had been unable to rise, and for hours had lain helpless on -the ground. Sipsyrup, who, like other vain, silly creatures, was very -fond of talking about other people’s concerns, had even whispered that -Honeyball had been seen busy at one of the provision-cells stored for -the winter’s use, which it is treason in a bee to touch; but as those -who talk much generally talk a little nonsense, we may hope that there -was no real ground for the story. - -Waxywill was one of whom such a report would never have been believed; -there was not a more honourable or temperate worker in the hive. Yet -Stickasting herself was scarcely less liked, so peevish and perverse -was the temper of this bee. If desired to do anything, it was sure to -be the very thing which she did not fancy. Were cells to be built--she -could not bear moping indoors; if asked to bring honey--she always -found out that her wings were tired. She could not bear submission to -the laws of the hive, and once actually shook her wings at the queen! -When she flew to help Silverwing, it was less out of kindness to her -than the love of opposing Stickasting. And yet Waxywill was not an -ungenerous bee; she had more sense too than insects generally possess; -she would have been respected and even loved in the hive, had not her -stubborn, wilful temper spoilt all. - -We will now follow Sipsyrup in her hasty flight, as, leaving both her -friend and her charges behind, she made her retreat from Stickasting. -How delightful she found the fine fresh air, after the heated hive! -Now up, now down, she pursued her varying course, sometimes humming -for a moment around some fragrant flower, then, even before she had -tasted its contents, deserting it for one yet more tempting. Deeply she -plunged her long tongue into its cup; her curious pliable tongue, so -carefully guarded by Nature in a nicely fitting sheath. “_Sheathe your -tongue!_” was an expression which the gossipping little bee had heard -more often than she liked, especially from the mouth of Waxywill. It -might be an expressive proverb in other places than Bee-land, for there -are tongues whose words are more cutting than swords, that much need -the sheath of discretion. - -The movements of the lively insect were watched with much interest -by Spinaway the spider, from her quiet home in a rosebush. Sipsyrup, -disdaining the narrow garden of the school, had winged her way over -the wall, and turning into a narrow green lane that was near, was now -sporting with the blossoms by Mrs. Wingfield’s porch. Spinaway was a -clever, artful spider, somewhat ambitious too in her way. She had made -her web remarkably firm and strong, and expected to be rewarded by -nobler game than the little aphis, or bony gnat. She had once succeeded -in capturing a blue-bottle fly, and this perhaps it was that raised -her hopes so high, that she did not despair of having a bee in her -larder. - -“Good-morning,” said Spinaway in a soft, coaxing tone, as Sipsyrup came -fluttering near her. “You seem to have travelled some distance, my -friend, and if you should like to rest yourself here, I am sure that -you would be heartily welcome.” - -Sipsyrup was a young, inexperienced bee, but she did not much fancy -the looks of the spider, with her hunchback and long hairy legs. She -politely, therefore, declined the invitation, and continued her feast -in a flower. - -“I am really glad to see a friend in a nice quiet way,” continued the -persevering spider. “I find it very dull to sit here all day; I would -give anything to have wings like a bee.” - -Sipsyrup, who loved gossip, advanced a little nearer, taking care to -keep clear of the web. - -“I do long to hear a little news of the world, to know what passes -in your wonderful hive. I am curious to learn about your queen; your -manner and style of dress is such, that I am sure that you must have -been much about the court.” - -Settling upon a leaf, still at a safe distance, Sipsyrup indulged her -taste for chit-chat, glad to have so attentive a listener. Spinaway -soon heard all the gossip of the hive,--how the present queen had -killed in single combat the queen of another swarm, whilst the bees of -both nations watched the fight; and how the hostile band, when they -saw their queen dead, had submitted to the conqueror at once. How a -slug had last morning crept into the hive and frightened her out of her -wits, but had been put to death by fierce Stickasting before it had -crawled more than an inch. Sipsyrup then related--and really for once -her conversation was very amusing--all the difficulties and perplexity -of the people of the hive as to how to get rid of the body of the -intruder. She herself had been afraid to venture near the monster, but -Silverwing and the rest had striven with all their might to remove the -dead slug from their hive. - -“And did they succeed?” said Spinaway, much interested. - -“Oh, it was quite impossible to drag out the slug! We were in such -distress--such a thing in the hive--our hive always kept so neat and -clean that not a scrap of wax is left lying about!” - -“What did you do?” said the spider; “it really was a distressing -affair.” - -“Waxywill thought of a plan for preventing annoyance. She proposed that -we should cover the slug all over with wax, so that it should rather -appear like a piece of the comb than a dead creature left in the hive.” - -“A capital plan!” cried Spinaway. “And was the thing done?” - -“Yes, it was, and before the day was over.” - -“So there Mrs. Slug remains in a white wrapping,” laughed the spider; -“a warning to those who go where they are not wanted. You were, I -daresay, one of the foremost in the work.” - -“Not I; I would not have touched the ugly creature with one of my -feelers!” - -“I beg your pardon!” said the spider; “indeed, I might have judged by -your appearance that nothing but the most refined and elegant business -would ever be given to you. You look as though you had never touched -anything rougher than a rose.” - -This speech put Sipsyrup in high good-humour; she began to think that -she had judged the spider harshly, and that she really was an agreeable -creature in spite of her ugly hunch. - -“If you speak of delicate work,” observed the bee very politely, “I -never saw anything so fine as your web.” - -“It is tolerably well finished,” said the spider with a bow; “would -you honour me by a closer inspection?” - -“Oh, thank you, I’m not curious in these matters,” replied Sipsyrup, -still feeling a little doubtful of her new friend. - -“You have doubtless remarked,” said Spinaway, “that each thread is -composed of about five thousand others, all joined together.” - -“No, really, I had no idea of that--how wonderfully fine they must be!” - -“I am surprised that you did not see it; at least if the powers of -your eyes equal their beauty. I never beheld anything like them -before--their violet colour, their beautiful shape, cut, as it were, -into hundreds of divisions, like fine honey-comb cells, and studded all -over with most delicate hair. I would give my eight eyes for your two!” - -“Two!” cried Sipsyrup, mightily pleased; “I have three more on the back -of my head.” - -“I would give anything to see them, if they are but equal to the -faceted ones. No creature in the world could boast of such a set! -Might I beg--would you favour me?”-- - -Silly Sipsyrup! foolish bee! not the first, however, nor, I fear, the -last, to be caught by sugary words. Blinded by vanity, forward she -flew--touched the sticky, clammy web--entangled her feet--struggled -to get free--in vain, in vain!--quivered her wings in terrified -efforts--shook the web with all her might--but could not escape. -Her artful foe looked eagerly on, afraid to approach until the poor -bee should have exhausted herself by her struggles. Ah, better for -Sipsyrup had she kept in her hive, had she spent all the day in making -bee-bread, to feed the little larvæ in their cells! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IV. - -HOME LESSONS AND HOME TRIALS. - - -Buzz, buzz, buzz!--“There’s a bee in a web!” cried Tom, looking up from -the bowl of porridge which he was eating in the rose-covered porch. - -“Poor thing!” said Minnie, rising from her seat. - -“A precious fright it must be in! what a noise it makes!” cried her -brother. - -“It is not much entangled--I think that I could set it free!”--and -Minnie ran up to the web. - -“And be stung for your pains. Nonsense--leave it alone. It is good fun -to watch it in its struggles.” - -[Illustration: POOR SIPSYRUP IN A SNARE.] - -“It never can be good fun to see any creature in misery,” replied -Minnie; and with the help of a little twig, in a very short time poor -Sipsyrup was released from the web. - -“Poor little bee!” said Minnie, “it has hurt its wing, and some of the -web is still clinging to its legs. I am afraid that it cannot fly.” - -“I hope that it will sting you!” laughed Tom. “Are you going to nurse -and pet it here, and get up an hospital for sick bees?” - -“I think that it must belong to our school-mistress’s hive. I will -carry it there, and put it by the opening, and let its companions take -care of it.” And notwithstanding Tom’s scornful laugh, Minnie bore off -the bee on her finger. - -“You are the most absurd girl that I ever knew,” said he on her return. -“What does it matter to you what becomes of one bee? I should not mind -smothering a whole hive!” - -“Ah, Tom,” said his sister, “when there is so much pain in the world, I -do not think that one would willingly add ever so little to it. And I -have a particular feeling about animals. You know that they were placed -under man, and given to man, and they were all so happy until--until -man sinned; now, innocent as they are, they share his punishment -of pain and of death; and it seems hard that _we_ should make that -punishment more bitter!” - -“Then my tender-hearted sister would never taste mutton, I suppose.” - -[Illustration: MINNIE AND THE BEE.] - -“No; the sheep are given to us for food; but I would make them as happy -as I could while they lived. O Tom, we are commanded in the Bible to be -‘tender-hearted,’ and ‘merciful,’ and surely to be cruel is a grievous -sin!” - -“I wonder that you did not crush the spider that would have eaten up -your bee.” - -“Why should I? She did nothing wrong. It is Nature that has taught her -to live on such food; I would be merciful to spiders as well as to -bees.” - -“You carried off her dinner--she would not thank you for that.” - -“Perhaps I did foolishly,” said Minnie with a smile; “but I cannot see -a creature suffering and not try to help it.” - -“I wish that you saw the green-grocer’s horse with his bones all -starting through his skin, and the marks of the blows on his head. What -would you say to the master of that horse?” - -“Oh, I wish that he would remember that one verse from the Bible, -‘_Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy._’ Without -mercy, what would become of the best--without mercy, we all should be -ruined for ever. And if _only_ the merciful can obtain mercy, oh! what -will become of the cruel?” - -“Pshaw!” cried Tom, not able to dispute the truth of Minnie’s words, -but not choosing to listen to them, for he had too many recollections -of bird-nesting, cockchafer-spinning, and worrying of cats, to make -the subject agreeable. Some find it easier to silence an opponent with -a “pshaw!” than by reason or strength of argument; and this was Tom’s -usual way. He did not wish to continue the conversation, and, perhaps -with a view to change its subject, said in a sudden, abrupt tone, as he -stirred his porridge with his pewter spoon-- - -“You’ve not put a morsel of sugar in my bowl.” - -“Yes, indeed, I put some,” replied Minnie. - -“But you know that I like plenty; I have told you so a thousand times.” - -“But, dear Tom, I have not plenty to give you--we have nearly come to -the end of our little store. And you know,” continued she, lowering her -voice, “that we cannot buy more until we are paid for these shirts.” - -The little girl did not add that for the last three days she had not -tasted any sugar herself. - -“Nonsense!” cried Tom, starting up from his seat, and hastily entering -the cottage. He took down from the shelf a large broken cup, which was -used to contain the store of sugar. Mrs. Wingfield was lying asleep in -the back-room, being laid up with a worse headache than usual. - -Fearing lest her mother should be roused from her sleep, Minnie -followed her brother, her finger on her lip, a look of anxious warning -on her face. But both look and gesture were lost upon Tom, who was -thinking of nothing but himself. - -“Here’s plenty for to-day,” he said in a careless tone, emptying half -the supply into his bowl. - -“But, Tom--our poor mother--she is ill, you know--” - -“Well, I’ve not taken it all.” - -“But we cannot afford--” - -“Don’t torment me!” cried Tom angrily, helping himself to more. - -“Oh, dear Tom,” said the little girl, laying her hand upon his arm. - -“I’ll not stand this nonsense!” exclaimed the boy fiercely; and turning -suddenly round, he flung the rest of the sugar into the dusty road. -“There--that serves you right; that will teach you another time to mind -your own business and leave me alone;” and noisily setting down the -empty cup, the boy sauntered out of the cottage. - -Something seemed to rise in Minnie’s throat; her heart was swelling, -her cheek was flushed with mingled sorrow and indignation. Oh, how much -patience and meekness we require to meet the daily little trials of -life! - -Minnie was roused by her mother’s feeble, fretful voice. “I wish that -you and Tom had a little more feeling for me. You have awoke me with -your noise.” - -“I am sorry that you have been disturbed, dear mother; I’ll try and not -let it happen again. Do you feel better now?” - -“No one feels better for awaking with a start,” returned Mrs. Wingfield -peevishly. “I should not have expected such thoughtlessness from you.” - -Minnie’s eyes were so brimful of tears that she dared not shut them, -lest the drops should run over on her cheek. She knew that her mother -would not like to see her cry, so, turning quietly away, she went to -the small fire to make a little tea for the invalid. - -There was nothing that Mrs. Wingfield enjoyed like a cup of warm tea; -and when Minnie brought one to the side of her bed, with a nice little -piece of dry toast beside it, even the sick woman’s worn face looked -almost cheerful. As soon, however, as she had tasted the tea, she set -down the cup with a displeased air. - -“You’ve forgotten the sugar, child.” - -“Not forgotten, mother, but--but I have none.” - -“More shame to you,” cried Mrs. Wingfield, her pale face flushing with -anger; “I am sure that a good deal was left this morning. You might -have thought of your poor sick mother; she has few enough comforts, I -am sure.” - -Poor Minnie! she left the room with a very heavy heart; she felt for -some minutes as if nothing could cheer her. Angry with her brother, -grieved at her mother’s undeserved reproach, as she again sat down to -work in the little porch, her tears fell fast over her seam. Presently -Conscience, that inward monitor to whose advice the little girl was -accustomed to listen, began to make itself heard. “This is foolish, -this is wrong,--dry up your tears, they can but give pain to your sick -mother. You must patiently bear with the fretfulness of illness, and -not add to its burden by showing that you feel it. You know that you -have not acted selfishly, you need not regret your own conduct in the -affair,--is not that the greatest of comforts? But I know very well,” -still Conscience whispered in her heart, “that you never will feel -quite peaceful and happy till no anger remains towards your brother. A -little sin disturbs peace more than a great deal of sorrow; ask for aid -to put away this sin.” - -Minnie listened to the quiet voice of Conscience, and gradually her -tears stopped and her flushed cheek became cool. She made a hundred -excuses in her mind for poor Tom. He had been always much indulged,--he -would be sorry for what he had done,--how much better he was than other -boys that she knew, who drank, or swore, or stole. And for herself, -what a sin it was to have felt so miserable! How many blessings were -given her to enjoy! She had health, and sight, and fingers able to do -work; and neither she nor her mother had difficulty in procuring it, -the ladies around were so kind. Then there was the church, and the -school, and the Best of Books;--and the world was so beautiful, with -its bright sun and sweet flowers,--there was so much to enjoy, so much -to be thankful for! And Minnie raised her eyes to the blue sky above, -all dotted over with rosy clouds; for it was the hour of sunset, and -she thought of the bright happy place to which her dear father had -gone, and how she might hope to join him there, and never know sorrow -again. What wonder, with such sweet thoughts for her companions, if -Minnie’s face again grew bright, and she worked away in her little -porch with a feeling of peace and grateful love in her breast which a -monarch might have envied. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER V. - -CONVERSATION IN THE HIVE. - - -Poor Sipsyrup! how sadly she stood at the entrance of the hive, where -her gentle preserver had left her. The fine down, of which she had been -so vain, was all rubbed and injured by her struggles in the web; one of -her elegant wings was torn; she felt that all her beauty was gone! She -had hardly courage to enter the hive, and was ashamed to be seen by the -busy bees flocking in and out of the door. I am not sure that insects -can sigh, or I am certain that she must have sighed very deeply. The -first thing that gave her the least feeling of comfort was the sound -of Silverwing’s friendly hum;--the poor wounded insect exerted her -feeble strength, and crept timidly into the hive. - -“Sipsyrup!--can it be!” cried Honeyball, rousing herself from a nap as -the bee brushed past her. - -“Sipsyrup, looking as though she had been in the wars!” exclaimed -Waxywill, who, in the pride of her heart, had always looked with -contempt on her vain, silly companion. - -“My poor Sipsyrup!” cried Silverwing, hastening towards her. Their -feelers met (that is the way of embracing in Bee-land), the kind bee -said little, but by every friendly act in her power showed her pity and -anxiety to give comfort. - -What pleased Sipsyrup most was the absence of Stickasting, who had not -returned to the hive which she had left an hour before in a passion. - -[Illustration: MINNIE AT THE HIVE.] - -After resting for a little on a half-finished cell, while Silverwing -with her slender tongue gently smoothed her ruffled down, and -brought a drop of honey to refresh her, Sipsyrup felt well enough to -relate her sad story, to which a little group of surrounding bees -listened with no small interest. Sipsyrup left altogether out of her -account the fine compliments paid her by Spinaway, she could not bear -that her vanity should be known; but she gained little by hiding the -truth, as this only made her folly appear more unaccountable. - -“I cannot understand,” said Waxywill, “how any bee in her senses could -fly into a web with her eyes open.” - -“When there was not even a drop of honey to be gained by it,” hummed -Honeyball. - -Sipsyrup hastened to the end of her story, and related how she had been -saved from the spider by the timely help of a kind little girl. - -“May she live upon eglantine all her life,” exclaimed Silverwing with -enthusiasm, “and have her home quite overflowing with honey and -pollen!” - -“This is the strangest part of your adventure,” said Honey ball; “this -is the very first time in my life that I ever heard of kindness shown -to an insect by a human being.” - -“I thought that bees were sometimes fed by them in winter,” suggested -Silverwing. - -“Fed with sugar and water!--fit food for a bee!” cried Honeyball, -roused to indignation upon the only subject that stirred her up to -anything like excitement. “And have you never heard how whole swarms -have been barbarously murdered, smothered in the hive which they had -filled with so much labour, that greedy man might feast upon their -spoils!” - -“If you talk of greediness, Honeyball,” drily observed Waxywill, “I -should say, _Keep your tongue in a sheath._” - -“I am glad that it is not the custom for men to eat bees as well as -their honey,” laughed Silverwing. - -“Oh, they are barbarous to everything, whether they eat it or not,” -exclaimed Waxywill, with an angry buzz. “Have I not seen a poor -butterfly, basking in the sun, glittering in her vest of purple and -gold--ah, Sipsyrup, in your very best day, you were no better than a -blackbeetle compared to her!” - -An hour before, Sipsyrup would have felt ready to sting Waxywill for -such an insolent speech, but the pride of the poor bee was humbled; and -when Waxywill observed her silence and noticed her drooping looks, she -felt secretly ashamed of her provoking words. She continued: “Have -I not seen the butterfly, I say, dancing through the air, as though -life was all sunshine and joy!--I have seen a boy look on her--not to -admire, not to feel pleasure in beholding her beauty, but eager to lay -that beauty in the dust, and seize on his little victim. I have watched -him creeping softly, his hat in his hand, as anxious about his prize, -as if to destroy a poor insect’s happiness was the way to secure his -own. Now the unconscious butterfly rose, high above the reach of her -pursuer, then sank again to earth, to rest upon a flower, whose tints -were less bright than its wings. Down came the hat--there was a shout -from the boy--the butterfly was prisoner at last. If he had caught -it to eat it, as the spider caught Sipsyrup, I could have forgiven -him--for men as well as bees must have food, and I suspect that they do -not live entirely upon honey; but it made me wish for a hundred stings -when I saw the wretched insect lying on the ground, fluttering in the -agonies of death. The boy had barbarously torn off its bright beautiful -wings, and had not even the mercy to put it out of pain by setting his -foot upon it.” - -“It had never injured him,” murmured Silverwing. - -“It had never injured any one--it desired nothing but to be allowed to -spend its short life in peace.” - -“How would the boy have liked to have had his wings torn off,” said -Honeyball, “for the amusement of some creature stronger than himself?” - -“Men and boys are worse than hornets,” muttered Waxywill. - -“But we have found one of human-kind,” hummed Silverwing cheerfully, -“who could be merciful even to a bee. Perhaps in the world there may -be others like her, too noble, too generous to use their strength to -torture and destroy what cannot resist them.” - -Waxywill and Honeyball now took their departure--I fear rather for -their own pleasure than for the benefit of the hive; as Waxywill was -not in a humour to work, and Honeyball was always in a humour to idle. -As soon as they had flown out of reach of hearing, poor Sipsyrup said, -in a very dull tone,-- - -“I wonder what is to become of me now, poor unhappy insect that I am. -I fear that I shall never be able to fly; and to live on here in this -wretched way is almost worse than to be eaten by a spider.” - -“Oh, you should not say so,” replied gentle Silverwing; “you can still -crawl about, and you are safe in your own home.” - -“Safe!--I am miserable! With what pleasure I had thought of joining the -first swarm that should fly off. I am tired of the hive--this noisy, -bustling hive--I have lost everything that I cared for, everything that -made life pleasant--my beauty, my strength, my power of flying; I have -nothing left--” - -“But your duties,” added Silverwing; “make them your pleasures. My dear -friend, if you no more can be pretty, you may still be useful; if you -no more can be admired, you can still be loved. You may not be able to -go far, or to see much; but there are better joys to be found in your -own home.” - -Before the night closed, both the little nurse-bees were busy feeding -the larvæ. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VI. - -A STINGING REPROOF. - - -The sunset was still casting a red glow over the earth, throwing the -long shadows of the trees on the ground, and lighting up the cottage -windows, as Polly Bright stood at the door of her cottage, watching for -her mother’s return. - -Mrs. Bright was a hard-working woman, who, during the absence of her -husband, a soldier in the Crimea, earned many an honest shilling as -charwoman in the house of the Squire on the hill. She generally managed -to let Polly have the advantage of attending the school in the morning. -Though herself unable to read, she liked the idea of her daughter -being a scholar; and as plain-work was also taught in the school, she -thought that what Polly acquired there might make her not only more -learned, but more useful. But it was only for attendance in the morning -that the charwoman’s child could be spared from her home. During her -mother’s frequent absence, all the charge of the cottage, and care of -the children, belonged of course to Polly Bright. - -I cannot say that the little parlour could compare in neatness with -that of Mrs. Wingfield. There was a chest of drawers in one of the -corners, and on it was heaped a strange medley of things. Tea-pot and -broken jug, old shawl and a baby’s rattle, nutmeg-scraper, bellows, -saucepan and books, were piled in sad confusion. Nor would I have -advised you to have attempted to open one of the drawers. They were -sometimes too full to be opened at all, and stuck tight against every -effort, as if aware that they were not fit to be seen. Polly was too -fond of adorning herself to care for adorning her cottage. She was -not aware how far better it looks to be simple, neat, and clean, and -dressed according to our station, than to be decked out with gaudy -finery, and try to ape the appearance of those whom Providence has -placed above us. - -You will remember that we visited this cottage in the third chapter, -and there is little change in the appearance of things there now. The -damp on the floor occasioned by Johnny’s accident has dried up, and so -have the tears of the little boy, who, seated upon a stool near his -sister’s feet, is cramming his mouth with bread and butter, with an -air of great content. But the thin sickly baby is still in his cradle, -still uttering his feeble, unheeded wail, for the poor little creature -is teething hard, and has no other way of expressing his pain. Polly -never notices his heated lips and swelled gums; she is more occupied -with herself this evening than usual, for Mrs. Larkins, the farmer’s -wife, has invited her to tea, and as soon as her mother returns to -take her place, she will be off to amuse herself at Greenhill. Oh yes; -you might be certain that some gay meeting was expected! Look at the -necklace of false coral round her neck, the half-soiled lace which -she has sewn round her frock, and her hair all in papers at this hour -of the day; you would laugh were you to see her, but to me the sight -of her folly is really too sad for laughing. Of what is she thinking -as she quickly untwists the papers, and curls her long hair round her -fingers? Her thoughts are divided between impatience at her mother’s -delay, fears of herself being late for the party, and wishes that the -pedlar would only happen to call at her cottage. - -She had heard that day, from one of her school-fellows, that a man had -been going about the neighbourhood with a pack so full of beautiful -things, that such a collection had never before been seen in the -village. Polly had been particularly tempted by the description of -some brooches made of false diamonds, and exactly like real ones, as -the girl, who had never seen a jewel in her life, very positively -affirmed. One of these fine brooches was to be had for sixpence--how -eager was Polly to be its possessor! She counted over her little -treasure of pence, and found that she had sufficient for the purchase. - -But how was she to find the pedlar? Had Polly not been tied to the -cottage by what she called “these tiresome children,” she would long -ago have gone in search of him. She could hardly expect him to pass -down her little lane, but she was near enough to the high-road to see -if any one passed along it in going through the village. At one time -she had set little Johnny to watch, and more than once her hopes had -been raised as the little fellow shouted aloud, “There’s the man!” But -Polly came running first to see a drover with pigs, then the baker -with his little cart going his rounds;--she had a disappointment, poor -Johnny a slap, and he was sent crying into the cottage. This was rather -hard upon him, poor little fellow. How could a child, not three years -old, be expected to know the difference between a pedlar and a baker? - -But all was quiet again in the cottage, Johnny occupied with his -supper, and Polly with her curl-papers, when in through the open door -who should make her entrance but Stickasting. She came in, as usual, -in no amiable mood, quite ready to take offence on the very shortest -notice. She first settled on the little baby’s arm; but the infant lay -perfectly still, half-comforted in his troubles by sucking his thumb: -the most passionate bee in the world could find no excuse for being -angry with him. Stickasting rested for a few moments on the thin, tiny -arm, then rose and approached Polly Bright. - -Every sensible person knows that when a bee or a wasp hovers near, -the safest way is to keep quiet and take no notice; but Polly was not -a very sensible person, and being not very courageous either, was -quite frightened when the insect touched her face. If Stickasting -had mistaken it for a flower, she would very soon have found out her -blunder, and left the little girl in peace; but, starting back with a -cry, Polly struck the bee, and Stickasting, roused to fury, quickly -returned the blow. Mad with passion, the insect struck her sting so -deep, that it was impossible to withdraw it again, and she left it -behind, which occasions certain death to a bee. - -Stickasting felt at once that she had thrown away her life in a wild -desire for revenge; that her destruction was caused by her own violent -act--she crawled feebly a few inches from the spot where she fell, and -expired--a victim to her temper. - -Loud was the scream which Polly Bright uttered on being stung; so loud -that it brought, from the opposite cottage, both Minnie Wingfield -and her brother. On finding out the cause of Polly’s distress, Minnie -hastily ran back for the blue-bag, or a little honey, to relieve the -pain of her school-fellow. But Tom, who had very little pity in his -nature, stood shaking with laughter at the adventure. - -[Illustration: POOR STICKASTING.] - -“Stung by a bee!--stung on the very tip of the nose!--what a beauty you -will look at Greenhill to-night!--ha! ha! ha!--if you could only see -how funny you look, your hair half in curl-papers, and half hanging -down, and your eyes as red with crying as the coral round your neck! -You are for all the world like silly Sally!” - -[Illustration: TOM LAUGHING AT POLLY.] - -“It does not show much, does it?” said poor Polly anxiously, as Minnie -returned with the blue-bag. - -“It is swelling!” cried Tom--“swelling higher and higher!--’twill be -just like the turkey-cock’s comb!” - -“Then I can’t go to-night!--I will not go!” exclaimed Polly, sitting -down and bursting into tears. - -Tom laughed louder, Minnie in vain tried to comfort,--all Polly’s -happiness was for the time overthrown by a bee! It rested but on -trifles, and a trifle was enough to make her wretched for the rest of -that day. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VII. - -A WONDERFUL BORE. - - -The sun set, the rooks in the squire’s park had gone to roost, the bats -flew round the ivy-covered tower of the village church. The hive was -becoming quiet and still, the bees hanging in clusters prepared to go -to sleep; but Stickasting had never returned. Silverwing listened in -vain for the well-known sound of her angry hum, and wondered what could -have delayed her companion. But never again was the poor bee to fly -back to the hive, never again to labour at the waxen cells; and, alas! -how little was her presence missed--still less was it regretted. - -The next morning was warm, bright, and sunny, the bees were early on -the wing. The larvæ were beginning to spin their webs, and therefore no -longer required food; so Silverwing was free to range over the fields, -and gather honey for the hive. So tempting was the day, that even -Honeyball shook her lazy wings and crept to the door; there stood for -a few moments, jostled by her more active fellow-servants, and finally -flew off in quest of food. - -How delightful was the air!--how fragrant the breeze! The buttercups -spread their carpet of gold, and the daisies their mantle of silver -over the meadows, all glittering with the drops of bright dew. -Honeyball soon found a flower to her taste, and never thought of -quitting it till she had exhausted all its honied store. She had a dim -idea that it was her duty to help to fill the cells, but poor Honeyball -was too apt to prefer pleasure to duty. - -“I should like to have nothing to do,” she murmured, little thinking -that a listener was near. - -“Like to have nothing to do! Is it from a hive-bee that I hear such -words?--from one whose labour is itself all play?” - -Honeyball turned to view the speaker, and beheld on a sign-post near -her the most beautiful bee that she had ever seen. Her body was larger -than that of a hive-bee, and her wings were of a lovely violet colour, -like the softest tint of the rainbow.[A] - -Honeyball felt a little confused by the address, and a little ashamed -of her own speech; but as all bees consider each other as cousins, felt -it best to put on a frank, easy air. - -“Why, certainly, flying about upon a morning like this, and making -_elegant extracts_ from flowers, is pleasant enough for a time. But may -I ask, lady-bee,” continued Honeyball, “if you think as lightly of -working in wax?” - -“Working in wax!” half contemptuously replied Violetta; “a soft thing -which you can bend and twist any way, and knead into any shape that you -choose. Come and look at my home here, and then ask yourself if you -have any reason to complain of your work.” - -Honeyball looked forward with her two honey-combed eyes, and upwards -and backwards with her three others, but not the shadow of a hive could -she perceive anywhere. “May I venture to ask where you live?” said she -at last. - -“This way,” cried Violetta, waving her feeler, and pointing to a little -round hole in the post, which Honeyball had not noticed before. It -looked gloomy, and dark, and strange to the bee; but Violetta, who took -some pride in her mansion, requested Honeyball to step in. - -“You cannot doubt my honour,” said she, observing that the hive-worker -hesitated, “or be suspicious of a cousin?” - -Honeyball assured her that she had never dreamed of such a thing, and -entered the hole in the post. - -For about an inch the way sloped gently downwards, then suddenly became -straight as a well, so dark and so deep, that Honeyball would have -never attempted to reach the bottom, had she not feared to offend her -new acquaintance. She had some hopes that this perpendicular passage -might only be a long entrance leading to some cheerful hive; but after -having explored to the very end, and having found nothing but wood to -reward her search, she crept again up the steep narrow way, and with -joy found herself once more in the sunshine. - -“What do you think of it?” said Violetta, rather proudly. - -“I--I do not think that your hive would hold many bees. Is it perfectly -finished, may I inquire?” - -“No; I have yet to divide it into chambers for my children, each -chamber filled with a mixture of pollen and honey, and divided from the -next by a ceiling of sawdust. But the boring was finished to-day.” - -“You do not mean to say,” exclaimed Honeyball in surprise, “that that -long gallery was ever bored by bees!” - -“Not by _bees_,” replied Violetta, with a dignified bow, “but by one -bee. I bored it all myself.” - -The indolent Honeyball could not conceal her amazement. “Is it possible -that you sawed it all out with your teeth?” - -“Every inch of the depth,” Violetta replied. - -“And that you can gather honey and pollen enough to fill it?” - -“I must provide for my children, or they would starve.” - -“And you can make ceilings of such a thing as sawdust to divide your -home into cells?” - -“This is perhaps the hardest part of my task, but nevertheless this -must be done.” - -“Where will you find sawdust for this carpenter’s work?” - -“See yonder little heap; I have gathered it together. Those are my -cuttings from my tunnel in the wood.” - -“You are without doubt a most wonderful bee. And you really labour all -alone?” - -“All alone,” replied Violetta. - -Honeyball thought of her own cheerful hive, with its thousands of -workers and divisions of labour, and waxen cells dropping with golden -honey. She scarcely could believe her own five eyes when she saw what -one persevering insect could do. Her surprise and her praise pleased -the violet-bee, who took pride in showing every part of her work, -describing her difficulties, and explaining her manner of working. - -“One thing strikes me,” said Honeyball, glancing down the tunnel; “I -should not much like to have the place of your eldest larva, imprisoned -down there in the lowest cell, unable to stir till all her sisters have -eaten their way into daylight.” - -Violetta gave what in Bee-land is considered a smile. “I have thought -of that difficulty, and of a remedy too. I am about to bore a little -hole at the end of my tunnel, to give the young bee a way of escape -from its prison. And now,” added Violetta, “I will detain you no -longer, so much remains to be done, and time is so precious. You -probably have something to collect for your hive. I am too much your -friend to wish you to be idle.” - -Honeyball thanked her new acquaintance and flew away, somewhat the -wiser for her visit, but feeling that not for ten pairs of purple wings -would she change places with the carpenter-bee. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VIII. - -A CHASE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. - - -“There’s the pedlar! Oh dear! and just as mother has gone out!” cried -Polly, who on beginning her afternoon business of nurse to the little -children, saw, or thought that she saw, at the end of her lane, a man -with a pack travelling along the high-road. “There he is. Oh, if I -could only stop him, or if any one would look after the baby whilst I -am gone! Minnie Wingfield! Ah, how stupid I am to forget that she is -now at the afternoon school! I think that baby would keep very quiet -for five minutes; he cannot roll out of his cradle. But Johnny, he’d be -tumbling down, or setting the cottage on fire; I cannot leave him for -a minute by himself.--Johnny,” said she suddenly, “I want to catch the -pedlar and see his pretty things; will you come with me, like a good -little boy?” - -Johnny scrambled to his feet in a moment, to the full as eager as -herself. Polly held his fat little hand tight within her own, and began -running as fast as she could drag him along. But the poor child’s round -heavy figure and short steps were altogether unsuited for anything like -a race. Polly felt him as a dead weight hanging to her arm. In vain she -pulled, dragged, and jerked, now began to encourage, and now to scold; -poor Johnny became tired, frightened, and out of breath, and at last -fairly tumbled upon his face. - -“Get up--I’m in such a hurry!”--no answer but a roar. “Stupid child! -he’ll be gone!”--Johnny bellowed louder than before. “There, I’ll -leave you on the road, you great tiresome boy; you have half pulled out -my arm with dragging you on. I’ll leave you there, and silly Sally may -get you.” - -Then, without heeding the poor little child’s cries and entreaties that -she would stop, as he lay on the ground, half suffocated with sobs, -Polly Bright, thinking only of the prize which her vanity made her so -much desire, hastened after the pedlar. - -[Illustration: POOR SALLY.] - -Silly Sally, who has been twice mentioned in my tale, was a poor -idiot-woman who lived with some kind neighbours on a common about two -miles from the village. She was perfectly harmless, and therefore -allowed to go about with freedom wherever she chose; but the terrible -misfortune, alas! exposed her to the scorn and sometimes even -persecution of wicked children, who made the worst use of the senses -left them, by tormenting one already so much afflicted. Poor Sally used -to wander about the lanes, uttering her unmeaning sound. Perhaps even -she had some pleasure in life, when the sun shone brightly and the -flowers were out, for she would gather the wild roses from the bank, or -the scarlet poppies from the field, and weave them into garlands for -her head. Nothing pleased her more than when she found a long feather -to add to her gaudy wreath. If the poor witless creature had delight -in making herself gay, Polly at least had no right to laugh at her. - -Timid and easily frightened, the idiot felt a nervous terror for -schoolboys, for which they had given her but too much cause. She had -been hooted at, even pelted with mud, pursued with laughter like a -hunted beast. Twice had Minnie to interfere with her brother, pleading -even with tears for one so helpless and unhappy. If there be anything -more brutal and hateful than cruelty to a harmless animal, it is -heartless barbarity to a defenceless idiot--to one who bears our image, -is descended from our race, and whose only crime is the being most -unfortunate. Deal gently, dear children, with the poor senseless idiot; -we trust that there is a place in heaven even for him. The powers -denied him in this world may be granted in the next; and in a brighter -realm, although never here below, he may be found at his Lord’s feet, -_clothed and in his right mind_. - -On hastened the little girl, breathless and panting. At the place -where the roads joined she looked anxiously up the highway, to see if -she had not been mistaken in her distant view of the traveller. No; -there was the pedlar, pack and all, and no mistake, but walking more -briskly than might have been expected from his burden and the warmth of -the afternoon. His pack must have been much lightened since he first -set out with it. - -Polly called out; but he either did not hear, or did not attend. The -wind was blowing the dust in her face, she was tired with her vain -attempts to drag poor Johnny, her shoes were down at heel and hindered -her running; for it by no means follows that those who wish to be fine -care to be tidy also. But the brooch of false diamonds--the coveted -brooch--the thought of that urged her on to still greater efforts; even -the remembrance of her swelled nose was lost in the hope of possessing -such a beautiful ornament. Polly, as she shuffled hastily along, saw -more than one person meet the pedlar. If they would but stop him--if -only for one minute--to give her time to get up with him at last. No -one stopped him--how fast he seemed to walk! Polly’s face was flushed -and heated, her hair hung about her ears--would that we were as eager -and persevering in the pursuit of what really is precious, as the girl -was in that of a worthless toy! - -At last her gasped-out “Stop!” reached the ear of the pedlar. He -paused and turned round, and in a few minutes more his pack was opened -to the admiring eyes of Polly. Ah, how she coveted this thing and -that! how she wished that her six pennies were shillings instead! A -cherry-coloured neckerchief, a pink silk lace, a large steel pin, -and a jewelled ring,--how they took her fancy, and made her feel how -difficult it is to decide when surrounded by many things alike tempting! - -[Illustration: POLLY AND THE PEDLAR.] - -But at last the wonderful brooch of false diamonds was produced. -There was only one left in the pedlar’s stock. How fortunate did Polly -think it that it also had not been sold! Neckerchief, lace, pin, or -ring was nothing compared to this. She tried it on, had some doubts of -the strength of the pin, tried in vain to obtain a lessening of the -price. It ended in the girl’s placing all her pence in the hand of the -pedlar, and carrying home her prize with delight. She had had her wish. -Her vanity was gratified--the brooch was her own; but to possess is not -always to enjoy. - -Polly returned to her cottage with much slower steps; she was heated, -and tired, and perhaps a little conscious that she had not been -faithful to her trust. As she came near her home she quickened her -pace, for to her surprise she heard voices within, and voices whose -tones told of anxiety and fear. These were the words which struck her -ear, and made her pause ere she ventured to enter,-- - -“What a mercy it is that I returned for the basket that I had -forgotten! If I had not, what would have become of my poor babe!” -exclaimed Mrs. Bright in much agitation. - -“I can’t understand how it happened,” replied another voice, which -Polly knew to be that of Mrs. Wingfield. - -“You may well say that,” said the mother. Polly could hear that she -was rocking her chair backwards and forwards, as she sometimes did -when hushing the sick child to sleep. “I left Polly in charge of the -children: I came back to find her gone, and my poor, poor baby in a -fit.” - -Polly turned cold, and trembled so that she could hardly stand. - -“Is there no one who could go for a doctor?” continued the agitated -mother; “another fit may come on--I would give the world to see him!” - -“I am so feeble,” replied Mrs. Wingfield, “that I am afraid--” - -“Take the baby, then, and I’ll go myself; not a moment is to be lost.” - -“No, no; there’s my boy Tom,” cried Mrs. Wingfield, as she saw her son -run hastily into her little cottage, which was just opposite to Mrs. -Bright’s. - -“Oh, send him, in mercy send him!” cried the mother; and her neighbour -instantly crossed over to fulfil her wishes, passing Polly as she did -so, and looking at her with mingled surprise and scorn, though in too -much haste to address her. - -“My boy, my own darling!” murmured the anxious mother, pressing her -sick child to her bosom, “what will your father say when he hears of -this?” Except her low, sad voice, the cottage was so still that the -very silence was terrible to Polly; it would have been a relief to have -heard the feeble, fretful wail which had made her feel impatient so -often. - -With pale, anxious face and noiseless step, dreading to meet her -mother’s eye, the unhappy girl stole into the cottage. There sat Mrs. -Bright, her bonnet thrown back from her head, her hair hanging loose, -her gaze fixed upon the child in her arms; whilst the poor little -babe, with livid waxen features and half-closed eyes, lay so quiet, -and looked so terribly ill, that but for his hard breathing his sister -would have feared that his life had indeed passed away. - -Mrs. Bright raised her head as Polly entered, and regarded her with -a look whose expression of deep grief was even more terrible than -anger. She asked no question; perhaps the misery in which she saw the -poor girl made her unwilling to add to her suffering by reproach; or -perhaps, and this was Polly’s own bitter thought, she considered her -unworthy of a word. Whatever was the cause, no conversation passed -between them, except a few short directions from the mother about -things connected with the comfort of the baby, as poor Polly, with an -almost bursting heart, tried to do anything and everything for him. - -[Illustration: POLLY IN DISGRACE.] - -In the meantime Tom had gone for the doctor, though with an -unwillingness and desire to delay which had made his mother both -surprised and indignant. - -“He should go by the fields,” he said, though he well knew that to -be the longest way; and he would have done so, had not Mrs. Wingfield -roused herself to such anger, that even her rude and undutiful son did -not dare to disobey her. - -The doctor came in about an hour, Tom having happily found him at home, -and, with an anxiety which those who have attended beloved ones in the -hour of sickness only can tell, Mrs. Bright and Polly listened for his -opinion of the case. The doctor examined the child, and asked questions -concerning his illness: “How long had the fit lasted?” There was a -most painful pause. Mrs. Bright looked at her daughter. Polly could -not utter a word; it was not till the question was repeated that the -distressing reply, “No one knows,” was given. - -“Was the child long ailing?” - -“How was he when you left him?” said Mrs. Bright to the miserable -Polly. - -“Very well--that’s to say--I don’t exactly--he was--I think--” - -“There has been gross negligence here,” said the doctor sternly; “gross -negligence,” he repeated, “and it may cost the child his life.” - -Polly could only clasp her hands in anguish; but the mother exclaimed, -“Oh, sir, is there no hope for my boy?” - -“While there is life there is hope,” replied the doctor in a more -kindly tone; “he must be bled at once. Have you a basin here?” he -added, taking a small instrument-case from his pocket. - -Polly was at all times timid and nervous, and quite unaccustomed to -self-command, and now, when she would have given worlds to have been -useful, her hand shook so violently, her feelings so overcame her, that -there was no chance of her doing anything but harm. - -“Give the basin to me, dear,” said a gentle voice behind her; Minnie -Wingfield had just entered the cottage. “You look so ill, you must not -be present. Go up-stairs, Polly; I will help your mother.” - -“Oh, what shall I do?” cried the miserable girl, wringing her hands. - -“Go and pray,” whispered Minnie as she glided from her side; and Polly, -trembling and weeping, slowly went up the narrow wooden staircase, and -entering her little chamber, sank down upon her knees. - -“Oh, spare him, only spare him, my darling little brother!” she could -at first utter no other words. She had never loved the baby as she did -now, when she feared that she might be about to lose him, and bitterly -she lamented her own impatient temper that had made her weary of the -duty of tending him. Oh, that we would so act towards our relations, -that if death should remove any one from our home, our grief should -not be embittered by the thought, “I was no comfort or blessing to him -while he was here, and now the opportunity of being so is gone for -ever!” - -But the most terrible thought to Polly was, that the baby’s danger -might be partly owing to her neglect. Should he die--should the little -darling be taken away--could her mother ever forgive her? As Polly -sobbed in an agony of grief, something fell from her bosom upon the -floor; she started at the sight of her forgotten brooch, that which -she had coveted so much, that which had cost her so dear. Snatching it -up, and springing to her feet, with a sudden impulse she ran to the -window, and flung it far out into the lane. Then once more falling on -her knees, again she prayed, but more calmly, and she implored not only -that the baby might live, but that her own weak, vain heart might be -cleansed, that she might henceforth live not only for herself, but do -her duty as a faithful servant of God. She rose somewhat comforted, and -creeping down-stairs, listened ere she ventured to enter the little -parlour. - -“I hope that he may do well now. I shall send something for him -to-night. Keep him quiet. I shall call here to-morrow.” These were -the doctor’s parting words, and they were a great relief to Polly. -She came in softly, and bent down by the baby, now laid again in his -little cradle, and looking white as the sheet that was over him; she -would have kissed his thin, pale face, but she feared to disturb the -poor child. Her heart was full of mingled sorrow and love; she felt as -though she could never bear to leave him again. - -“Thank you, Minnie, my girl,” said Mrs. Bright earnestly; “you have -been a real comfort to me in my time of need. Your mother is a happy -woman to have such a child.” - -“Can I do anything else for you now?” said Minnie; “if you would allow -me to sit up instead of you to-night?” - -“No, no; I could not close an eye. But I should be glad if you would -bring Johnny home, my dear; it is near his bed-time, and I do not think -that he will disturb the baby.” - -“I will bring him with pleasure; where is he?” said Minnie. - -“Where is he?” repeated Mrs. Bright; “is he not at your home?” - -“No; he has not been there all day.” Polly started as if she had been -stabbed. - -“Then where is he?” cried Mrs. Bright, looking anxiously round. “Is he -up-stairs, Polly?” The miserable girl shook her head. Her fears for the -baby had made her quite forget her little brother, and it now flashed -across her mind that she had not passed him in the lane, when she had -retraced her steps to the cottage. Where could he have gone, where -could he be now? - -Mrs. Bright had endured much, but her cup seemed now to overflow. She -walked close up to Polly, laid a heavy grasp upon her shoulder, and -said, in a tone which the girl remembered to her dying day, “When was -your brother last with you?” - -“About two hours ago, just before you returned home,” faltered Polly. - -“And where did you leave him?” - -“In the lane, near the high-road.” - -“Go and find him,” said the mother, between her clenched teeth, “or -never let me set eyes on you again!” - -Polly rushed out of the cottage, and began her anxious search up and -down the lane, by the hedge, in the ditch, along the road, asking -every person that she met, and from every one receiving the same -disheartening answer. No one had seen the boy, no one could think -what had become of him. He was too young to have wandered far; had he -run towards the road, he must have been met by Polly--if the other -way, he must have been seen by his mother; he could not have got over -the hedge; there was no possibility of his having lost his way. Many -neighbours joined in the search; many pitied the unhappy mother, but -she was less to be pitied than Polly. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IX. - -PRISONS AND PRISONERS. - - -We will now return to our little friend, Honeyball, whom we left flying -from the curious dwelling of the carpenter-bee. We will follow her as -she lazily proceeded along the lane in which were situated the cottages -of Mrs. Wingfield and Mrs. Bright, the sweet flowers in the garden of -the former rendering it a favourite resort for bees. This was not long -after noon, and therefore a few hours before all the troubles related -in the last chapter had occurred, while Polly and her two little -charges were yet safe in their own comfortable cottage. - -Honeyball looked at Spinaway busily mending her net, torn by the -adventure of Sipsyrup, and laughed as she thought of the folly of her -companion. Honeyball was not vain enough to be enticed by sugared -words; her dangers arose from quite another source--her greediness and -great self-indulgence. Her eye was now attracted by a little bottle -hung up by the porch, not far from the rosebush; it had been placed -there by Tom to catch wasps. Perhaps he had hoped to entrap some -others of the winged tribes, for he had just taken a fancy to make a -collection of insects, and woe unto any small creature that might fall -into his merciless hands! - -Honeyball alighted on the bottle, then fluttered to the top, allured by -the sugary scent. The brim was sticky; she unsheathed her long bright -tongue, tasted, approved, and then sipped again. At this moment she -heard a buzz near her, and looking up with her back eyes, perceived her -friend Silverwing. - -“Do come from that huge, bright, hard cell,” cried the bee; “I am sure -that it never was formed by any of our tribe, and I do not believe that -it holds honey.” - -“It holds something very good, and in such abundance too,” replied -Honeyball; “a thousand honeysuckles would not contain so much!” - -“There is danger, I am certain that there is danger,” cried Silverwing. -“What if it should have been placed there on purpose to catch us?” - -“You think me as foolish as Sipsyrup!” - -“No, not foolish, but--” - -“Too fond of good living, and too lazy to like trouble in procuring it. -Well, I daresay that you are right, Silverwing; I believe that, as you -say, there may be danger.” - -“Then why not come away?” persisted the bee. - -“Because the taste is so good,” said her companion, bending over the -rim--the next moment she was struggling in the syrup! - -Ah, Honeyball, weak, foolish insect! In vain do you struggle, in -vain do you buzz, in vain your grieved friend flutters against the -glass,--you have sacrificed yourself for a little indulgence, like -thousands who look at the tempting glass, know their danger, yet will -not abstain! - -As Silverwing on the outside of the bottle was uttering her hum of pity -and regret, suddenly a handkerchief was thrown over her, and the loud, -rough voice of Tom was heard. - -“Rather a paltry beginning to my collection, a wretched hive-bee! But -I caught it so cleverly, without its being crushed, or spoiled by the -syrup; and I will keep it till I get that stuff which Ben told me of, -which kills insects without hurting their beauty!” - -Poor unhappy Silverwing! she was indeed in a terrible position. She -had not even power to use her sting in self-defence, for to plunge it -into the handkerchief would have been useless indeed; and she felt -all that a bee might be expected to feel, in the power of its most -cruel foe. Tom carried her into the cottage, and carefully unclosing -the handkerchief, after he had mounted upon a chair to reach the shelf -easily, he shook his poor prisoner into his own mug, and tied some -paper firmly over the top. - -Silverwing flew round and round, buzzing in terror; she only hurt her -wings against the sides. Then she crawled over the paper which formed -the ceiling of her prison; but no hole for escape could she find. It -was clear that she was now shut out from all hope, condemned perhaps -to some lingering death. While her companions were flying about, busy -and happy, she was to pine, a lonely prisoner, here. At first her -feelings were those of despair; then, quietly, though sadly, she made -up her mind to submit to her cruel fate. She no longer fluttered about -restlessly, but settling at the bottom of the mug, in patience awaited -the return of her tormentor. - -Hours passed before Tom came back. There had been other voices in the -cottage, but no one had touched the place of Silverwing’s imprisonment. -Mrs. Wingfield had been called out hastily by her neighbour Mrs. -Bright, on the discovery of the illness of the baby; and as Minnie -had not then returned from school, the cottage was left quite empty. -Presently there was a rapid step, then the sound of some one jumping up -on the chair. Silverwing felt the mug moved, then the paper raised; she -was ready to make a last effort to escape through the opening; but her -little tyrant took good care to give no time for that; he only shook in -another victim, and then shut down the paper quickly, and placed a book -on the top. - -Silverwing paid no attention to what was passing in the cottage round -her, though I may as well remind the reader of what passed in the -last chapter,--how Tom had scarcely got down from the chair before -his mother came in and ordered him to go off for the doctor, as Mrs. -Bright’s baby was very ill indeed; how Tom hesitated, and said that he -would go by the fields, and then was sent off direct by his mother in -much displeasure. To all this, as I said, Silverwing paid no attention; -her little world was contained in the mug, and all her interest was -aroused by her fellow-prisoner. Poor Violetta, with her fine purple -wings, was the prey of the collector of insects! He had not cared to -explore her curious home, to learn her customs and ways, or admire her -instinct; he only wished to have the dead body of an insect that he -thought curious, and had no scruple about destroying it to gratify this -wish. - -Violetta was not so patient as poor Silverwing had been. She dashed -herself against the mug in passionate distress; she would listen to -no words of comfort! Then she vainly tried to exercise her wonderful -powers of gnawing. From a wooden box she perhaps might have worked -her way to freedom, but the hard slippery crockery resisted her utmost -efforts; her poor little teeth could not even make an impression! -Exhausted at last, she remained quite still, and Silverwing, forgetful -of her own distress, began to attempt to soothe her companion. - -Thus they remained till the evening without food, almost without hope. -Mrs. Wingfield had gone to attempt to comfort her neighbour, nearly -wild at the loss of her Johnny; and now Minnie and Tom both entered the -cottage together. Their conversation had no interest for the bees, in -their mug; but as it is possible that it may have some for my reader, I -shall proceed to give some account of it in the following chapter. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER X. - -A CONFESSION. - - -“Oh, Tom,” said Minnie, “is not this a terrible misfortune that has -happened to poor Mrs. Bright?” - -Tom gave a sort of grunt of assent. - -“And the baby so ill! Mother doubts if he will live over the night! I -am glad that you found the doctor so soon. But what can have become -of dear little Johnny? The Barnes and the Smiths have been all on the -search; they say that if the wind had not been blowing the dust so -much along the lane, the little fellow might have been tracked by his -footsteps. No one can imagine where he can have gone,--he is so very -young,--so unable to wander far. Poor Polly! I am so sorry for her!” - -“I wish that you would not be talking for ever about Johnny!” exclaimed -Tom in a petulant tone. - -“How can one think or talk of anything else?” replied Minnie sadly,--“I -did so love that noble boy!” - -“Have done with it!” cried her brother, more angrily than before. - -Minnie looked at him with pain, and then said in a low tone, “I thought -that you had even joined in the search.” - -“I have joined,--I would give anything to find him!” exclaimed Tom, -striking his hand on the table as he spoke, with such passionate energy -that he almost startled his sister. - -“Did you see nothing of the dear child,” said Minnie, as a thought -suddenly occurred to her, “when you came to our cottage,--just before -you went for the doctor, you know?” - -“Didn’t I tell you that I wanted to hear no more about the matter!” -cried Tom, his whole face becoming the colour of crimson. - -Minnie’s eyes were fixed upon him, steadily, earnestly; rude, bold -boy as he was, he shrank from her piercing gaze. Going nearer to her -brother, and speaking very distinctly, but in a voice hardly above a -whisper, she said, “I believe that you know more about Johnny than you -will tell.” - -“Believe what you like, and let me alone.” - -“Tom, I implore you, hide nothing from us. Oh, think of the misery of -the poor broken-hearted mother!” and she laid her hand upon his arm. - -“Speak another word and I’ll strike you!” cried Tom, roughly shaking -her off. - -“Strike me if you will, but I _must_ speak. Where did you see that -child last?” - -“You can get nothing out of me,” growled Tom. - -“Then I must call those who can,” said Minnie firmly, turning round -as if to quit the cottage. “This is a matter of life or death.” She -looked pale, but very determined. - -“Whom are you going to call?” said Tom, his manner betraying some fear. - -“My mother--if necessary, the clergyman--or--the magistrate!” - -Tom caught her by the arm as he exclaimed, “Stop, Minnie, oh, -stop,--you shall hear all and judge! I don’t know where the boy is,--I -would give my right hand that I did. It is true that I saw him last, -and I have searched all the place again and again. You would not betray -me--you would not, Minnie?--you might ruin me, but could not help -Johnny. Sit down here, and listen to me quietly, and you shall know -everything that has happened!” - -Minnie sat down beside him, her heart beating fast. He gave her a short -but true account of what had passed, omitting, however, some little -particulars which we shall relate more at length. - -You will remember that we left poor Johnny crying in the lane, vainly -trying to call back his sister, as she hurried in pursuit of the -pedlar. When the child found his terrors unheeded, his loud roar -gradually sank into a low broken sob, he scrambled to his feet, rubbed -his plump dusty hand across his eyes to brush away the tears, and began -to think of trotting back to the cottage. - -Just as the little fellow was commencing his journey, he heard a voice -call him from the other side of the hedge which bordered the narrow -lane. At first, fancying that it might be silly Sally, with whom he -had been threatened, Johnny was inclined to run the faster for the -call; but he soon knew Tom, when he saw him clambering over and holding -something in his hand. - -“Here’s something for you, my jolly little man!” cried Tom, who amused -himself sometimes by playing with, but more often by teasing, his -little rosy-cheeked neighbour. - -“What got?” asked the child, as Tom jumped down beside him. Johnny was -always sparing of his words. - -[Illustration: A NEST OF LITTLE BIRDS.] - -“A nest of little birds that was swinging on a bough. I knocked off the -nest, and down came the birds!” - -“All dead!” said Johnny sadly. - -[Illustration: TOM TEASING JOHNNY] - -“Why, yes; you see they had some way to fall. The little things broke -their necks, so there was an end of them.” - -“Poor ’ittle birds! knocked off tree!” said the pitying child. Tom was -provoked at seeing the pity. - -“What a silly little goose you are, Johnny! It was fine fun to set nest -and all a-flying, and finish the whole family at once!” - -But whatever might be the opinion of Tom, the plump little cottager -kept to his own, and only more sadly repeated the words, “Poor ’ittle -birds! knocked off tree!” - -“Oh, if you’ve such a fancy for swinging on a tree, we’ll have you -up directly, and make an ‘’ittle bird of you!’” And laughing at the -struggles and entreaties of the child, Tom suddenly lifted him over -the hedge, and followed him into the field, flinging the wretched dead -birds into a ditch. - -In vain Johnny kicked and pushed and roared; Tom was a remarkably tall -and strong boy, and catching the poor child up in his arms, he ran -with him across the field. There was another hedge at the opposite -side, which Tom passed as easily as he had done the first, and they now -found themselves at the edge of a wood, thickly filled with trees of -various sizes. - -It was a delight to Tom to cause terror and alarm; no feeling of pity -with him ever cut short a joke. In a few moments poor Johnny was -perched upon a branch, clinging and roaring with all his might. - -“There, ‘’ittle bird,’ I hope that you like your bough. Shall I shake -it an _’ittle_, just to give you a nice swing? Hold tight, mind you -don’t fall, or you’ll break your fat neck as the _’ittle_ birds did!” -Then he began to sing-- - - “Hushaby, baby, on the tree-top, - When the wind blows the cradle will rock; - When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, - Down comes poor baby, cradle and all!” - -How long Tom might have gone on tormenting the child no one can tell, -if suddenly he had not been struck by the appearance of a curious bee, -which had alighted for a moment upon a wild flower near. - -“Oh, what a splendid bee!” he cried, leaving hold of the branch to -which Johnny still clung. “Sit you there till I catch it. Isn’t it a -beauty!--I never saw such fine purple wings!” - -My reader has probably guessed that it was poor Violetta whose -fatal beauty had attracted his eye. Johnny and his terrors all were -forgotten, while Tom rushed forward in eager pursuit; the frightened -child stopping his crying to watch the chase, which ended in Tom’s -securing his prize in his handkerchief. - -Impatient to carry it at once to a safe place, afraid of its either -escaping or being crushed in his hold, Tom, whose cottage was so near -that he could reach it in a few minutes, sprang over the hedge, and -ran fast across the field. Thus Johnny was left in a position of some -peril. Not knowing how long the boy’s absence might be, he shouted as -loudly and as vainly after Tom as he before had done after his sister. - -“And did you not return soon?” cried Minnie, as Tom reached this part -of his story. - -“How could I? Mother sent me off directly for the doctor.” - -“Oh, why, why did you not tell her?” - -“Very likely, indeed, that I should tell her that I had left little -Johnny sticking in a tree? I could only hope that he would stick there -until I could get back. I returned at full speed from the doctor’s, I -can assure you; but when I reached the wood not a trace of the little -fellow could I find.” - -“O Tom,” exclaimed Minnie, with a look of horror, “such a terrible -thought has struck me!” - -“I daresay that it has struck me before,” gloomily replied her brother. - - -“Was it, oh! was it far from the well?” - -“If he’s there,” said Tom in a hollow voice, “he’s dead long before -now.” - -“Did you search there?” - -“I looked down, and saw nothing.” - -“Looked down! O Tom, this is worse than mockery! If the waters were -above him--it is so deep--so dark!--” - -“What is to be done?” exclaimed the boy. - -“Some one must go down in the bucket. Oh, there is not a moment to be -lost!” Minnie would have rushed from the cottage, but her brother held -her fast. - -“There is no use in rousing the village _now_!” he cried. “Do you mean -to ruin, to destroy me? Minnie, if you betray me--if it is found that -the child is drowned--people will say that--that,”--and his look of -terror told a great deal more than his words. - -“But you never threw him in--it was only foolish play.” - -“Who can prove that? O Minnie, would you bring me to a jail, or perhaps -to worse?” - -“Then let us go ourselves,” exclaimed the little girl, divided between -anxiety for her brother and fears for the lost child. “I must either go -or send; and if there is danger to you--” - -“We will go--do anything, only in pity be silent! Minnie, Minnie, you -cannot tell how miserable I am!” - -Without pausing another moment, both ran out of the cottage, only -fearful lest they should be seen and detained. Tom helped Minnie over -the low hedge; but she hardly needed help, so eager was she to reach -the well. The rose-tint of sunset had now given place to evening’s -gray, the dew was falling, dark clouds gathered over the sky; but -heeding nothing, pausing for nothing, the Wingfields pressed on, and -were soon standing by the side of the well. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XI. - -A SUDDEN FALL - - -“What has become of these two children of mine?” said Mrs. Wingfield -fretfully, as on her return from her neighbour’s she found the cottage -empty. “I’m sure such a day of bustle as I have had--scarce out of one -trouble before I am into another! Well, poor Mrs. Bright is still worse -off, that is one thing. I am glad that the baby has at last dropped -asleep.” - -It grew darker and darker. Mrs. Wingfield became uneasy. She stirred -the fire, filled the kettle, then with a long weary sigh sat down to -rest. She missed Minnie and her quiet attentions. - -“I suppose that they are still out, searching for little Johnny. I fear -that there will be rain. I wish that they were back.” Mrs. Wingfield -fancied that she heard a low knock at the door. - -“Come in,” she said; but no one entered. Mrs. Wingfield drew her chair -nearer to the fire, leaned her head upon her hand, and wished that Tom -and Minnie would not stay out so late. - -Again the same low knock. She called out louder, “Come in,” and the -faint light which came through the doorway was darkened by a figure -which seemed to linger, as if in fear, on the threshold. Then the voice -of poor Polly was heard--“O Mrs. Wingfield, can you tell me how baby -is?” - -“What! Polly, is that you? Come in, my poor child. All cold and wet -with the dew! Why don’t you go home?” - -“I dare not,” said Polly, bursting into tears; “mother forbade me -till Johnny is found. Oh, tell me how baby is. Is he better? will he -live?”--she could hardly speak through her sobs. - -“Yes, he is better; that is to say, he is asleep.” - -“Not _dead_!” exclaimed Polly, alarmed at the word. - -“Dead! no, child. Why, how you tremble! Come to the fire; I’ll get you -a little tea and toast.” - -“I could not eat, it would choke me! Oh, that I had never left the -children--that I had done my duty as Minnie would have done! She--she -has been a comfort in her home--but I--” - -“Come, come,” said Mrs. Wingfield in a soothing tone, “don’t go -breaking your heart in this way; all may come right at last. Would not -you like to see the baby?” - -“Oh, if I might only sit up with him all night! But I may not return -without Johnny.” - -“Your mother never meant that. Come, I’ll take you to her myself. When -she sees how you feel all this, I am sure that she will forgive you.” - -Mrs. Wingfield was a kind-hearted woman, and taking Polly’s trembling -hand within her own, she crossed over the lane to Mrs. Bright’s. Polly -shrank back as they reached the door. - -“Oh, say, do you bring me news of my child?” cried the poor anxious -woman from within. - -“Not of Johnny, yet still of your child. There is one here who is -afraid to come in. Poor thing, she has almost cried herself to death.” - -“Polly,” murmured the mother, and stretched out her arms. In another -moment the poor girl was sobbing upon her bosom. - -Amidst the troubles of our human friends we must not quite forget those -of our little winged ones. The frightened hungry bees, confined in -their small prison, passed the long hours in most uncomfortable plight. - -“What a bitter thing it is,” cried Violetta, sinking exhausted after a -last effort to gnaw through the unyielding crockery, “to think of all -the joy and happiness left in the world, from which we are shut out for -ever. To-morrow the lark will be rising on high, the butterfly flitting -over the daisied meadow, your comrades feasting in the dewy flowers, -all Nature one hum of life!” - -“I am glad that they can enjoy still, there is some comfort in that,” -said Silverwing. - -“That is a feeling which I cannot understand,” observed Violetta. -“It is strange that the very same thought should give pain to me and -pleasure to you!” - -Violetta had had no great experience of life, or she would have known -that such is often the case. Living by herself as a solitary insect, -she had never heard one of the mottoes of Bee-land: _From the blossom -of a comrade’s success one draws the poison of envy, another the honey -of delight._ - -The village church-clock had struck the hour of nine; it was seldom -that its sound could be heard in the cottage of Mrs. Wingfield, but -now the place was so still that the breeze bore it distinctly to her -listening ear. Weary, she lay on her bed, unwilling to sleep till her -children should return. The rain was beginning to fall without; the -heavy clouds bending towards earth, made the night much darker than is -usual in summer. Presently a sound was heard at the door. - -“Minnie, is that you?” cried the mother. - -“It is Polly,” answered a mournful voice, as the little girl entered -the cottage. - -“Is the baby worse?” asked Mrs. Wingfield. - -“I hope not; but mother is in such a state about Johnny. If it were not -for baby, she would be wandering all night in the rain. I come to ask -if you could kindly give her a little hartshorn--I know that that is -what you take when you are poorly.” - -“You are heartily welcome to what I have,” replied the cottager; “I -daresay that you can find it yourself--I need not rise. Snuff the long -wick of the candle, and there--don’t put it in the draught--mind you -don’t snuff it out--why, how your poor fingers tremble!” - -How changed was Polly since the morning’s sun had risen! Her cheeks -pale and haggard, her eyes swollen with weeping, her dress hanging damp -around her chill form; who would have guessed that she ever could have -been the gayest girl in the village. - -“You will find the bottle on the shelf; you can reach it with a chair,” -continued Mrs. Wingfield, raising herself on one arm to watch the -proceedings of the girl. “There, do you not see, just behind that -mug! Why, what have you done?” she cried in a tone of impatience, as -something came crashing upon the floor. - -What had she done indeed. She had thrown down Tom’s mug, and set two -little prisoners free. Yes, they were free, free as the air which -they now joyously beat with their little wings! Uttering a loud hum of -delight, they flew round the cottage, darted to the door, then drew -back, afraid of the damp, and at last both settled sociably under the -table, to enjoy together a nice crumb of sugar that Tom had dropped on -the floor. - -[Illustration: AT LIBERTY.] - -Oh, if liberty be so sweet, so precious to all, who would deprive even -an insect of its birthright! Let them spread the free wing, unconfined -and happy, and let us find our pleasure rather in seeing them in the -position for which Providence formed and designed them, than in keeping -them as captives, the slaves to our will, deprived of their life’s -dearest blessing! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XII. - -AN UNPLEASANT JOURNEY. - - -Minnie and her brother stood at the brink of the well, and gazed with -straining eyes into its depths. - -“Which of us should go down?” said Minnie. - -“You need not have asked such a question; you know that you are not -strong enough to draw me up; and I doubt,” added Tom, passing his hand -along the rope--“I doubt if this is strong enough to bear me.” - -Minnie drew one step backwards. “If it should break with me!” she -murmured. - -“You should have thought of that before,” was Tom’s only reply. - -“Tom, at all risks I must go--I could not sleep to-night with this -horrible doubt on my mind, and you will not let me call others to help. -I trust that the Almighty will take care of me, for my only hope is in -Him. Help me to get into the bucket; and, oh! be very careful, dear -Tom--you do not know how much frightened I am.” - -“Hold the rope firmly,” said her brother; “and here, take this long -stick to feel about in the water when you are down.” Tom was extremely -anxious to have his own mind relieved, or, heartless as he was, he -could hardly have consented to let his young sister run this risk. But -there was nothing that the selfish boy dreaded so much as that his -share in Johnny’s wanderings should be known, if his fearful suspicion -were true, and the poor child had indeed perished through his folly. - -Minnie shook with terror as the bucket began to descend; every moment -she fancied the rope giving way, and that she should be plunged into -the water below. The strange damp smell, the dim light, the peculiar -sound of her own voice in that hollow confined place, all added to her -feeling of fear. - -[Illustration: DOWN THE WELL.] - -“Stop, Tom,” she cried, as the bucket touched the water. Tom looked -down, and could perceive some one below; but, all indistinct and dim, -he could not have recognized that it was his sister. - -“Can you find anything?” he whispered, kneeling down, after fixing the -wheel, and leaning over with his hands resting on the brink. He heard a -little splashing in the water, and waited for the answer of Minnie with -great anxiety. “Can you find anything there?” he repeated. - -“No.” Oh, the relief brought by that one little word! - -“Have you searched well?” said Tom; “have you searched to the bottom?” - -“Quite to the bottom; there is nothing but water--Heaven be praised,” -said the hollow voice from below. “Now draw me up again; but softly, -very softly. Oh, how thankful I shall be if I ever reach the top!” - -There was not another word spoken by either brother or sister, while -Tom, with painful exertion, turned the handle of the wheel, and first -Minnie’s clinging hands, and then her frightened face, appeared above -the level of the well. - -Tom helped her to the side, which she could not have reached by -herself, and then falling on her knees, the poor little girl returned -her fervent thanks to Heaven, at once for Johnny’s deliverance from the -well and her own. - -“Now let us return,” said Tom; “there is no use in remaining here. -It is growing quite dark, and beginning to rain. We can continue our -search in the morning.” - -“But if poor little Johnny should be somewhere in this wood, only think -what he would suffer left out all night. It would kill him with fright, -if not with the weather. Remember, Tom, that no one else is likely to -have looked for him _here_; a place which he could never have reached -by himself.” - -Tom muttered something between his teeth, which, perhaps, it was as -well that Minnie did not hear; but he certainly looked around him more -carefully. - -Minnie had wandered a few steps from her brother, and was slowly -walking round the greensward surrounding the well--a clear space which -was almost inclosed by the wood, only open on the side by which they -had approached it, and from which two dark narrow paths, scarce wide -enough to permit two persons to pass each other, led into the depths of -the forest. On a sudden she stopped, stooped down, then eagerly cried -out, “Oh, look what I have here!--he must be near!--he must be near!” -Tom hastened to the spot, and beheld in Minnie’s hand a little dusty -shoe, with its strap and round black button, which both felt certain -had belonged to the lost child. - -“Well, he could not walk far without his shoe,” observed Tom. “I -daresay that he is near enough to hear me. Halloo, Johnny!” he shouted, -“halloo!” There was no reply but the echo. - -“He must have gone down one of those little paths,” said Minnie; “we -had better search one of them at once.” - -“Better search both of them, as there are two of us,” said Tom; “if we -took but one, we should be sure to choose the wrong one.” - -Poor Minnie gave a woful look at the dark walks; however tempting they -might, have looked when nuts were on the boughs, and the sunbeams -struggled through their green shade, to the eye of the little girl they -looked anything but tempting now, when approaching night was wrapping -them in deepest gloom. - -“Why, you are not afraid!” cried Tom, with his rude coarse laugh; for -now that he was relieved from his fear that the child was actually -dead, the thought of what he might be suffering weighed little upon his -mind. - -“If it be right for me to go alone, I will go,” faltered Minnie, -“whether I am afraid or not.” - -Tom laughed again, but he had little cause to laugh at words that -expressed more true courage than all the idle vaunts that he had ever -uttered. He might have remembered that his sister had just ventured -upon what an older and wiser companion than himself would never have -suffered her to have attempted. But having no fear of a night walk in -a lonely wood himself, he now, as was ever the case with him, had no -consideration for the feelings of another. - -The brother and sister parted in the darkness and rain; Minnie, -trembling half with fear and half with cold, went cautiously along the -gloomy way. Every few steps she paused, and softly called, “Johnny!” -but her listening ear caught no sound but the pattering of the rain. -Many, many times she stopped, and almost resolved to go back, when the -thought of her little rosy-cheeked friend, out in the darkness and -rain, frightened, cold, and wet, encouraged her to pursue her journey. -For more than an hour the young girl wandered on, when at last the -wood came to an end, and she found herself alone on a dark wide heath, -dotted over here and there by furze-bushes. - -“Johnny!” once more she cried, almost in despair, a sickening feeling -of disappointment coming over her heart. Weary and sad, she could have -sat down and cried. She saw, a little on her left hand, one lonely -light, which appeared to proceed from some cottage. Here at least she -might beg for shelter, and towards it she slowly walked. The light -shone steady and bright from a little window; and before she ventured -to knock at the door, Minnie Wingfield cautiously peeped in. - -An aged man sat with his back to the window, and a large book open on -the table before him, the very sight of which gave hope and confidence -to Minnie. His wife, in her arm-chair, was listening opposite--a mild, -calm expression in her venerable face; and in the corner crouched poor -silly Sally, her brow no longer bound with her chaplet of wild flowers; -she had wreathed it round the lost Johnny, whom, with a delight which -repaid all her fears, Minnie beheld slumbering in the arms of the -idiot! - -[Illustration: FOUND.] - -It was this poor helpless creature who had found the little boy -clinging in terror to the bough! There was still a woman’s instinct -left in her breast, an instinct of tenderness towards a child. -Terrified at first to behold the dreaded Sally, it was only the -necessity of his case that made poor Johnny suffer her to touch him; -but kindness soon finds its way to the heart--she fondled him, stroked -his curly locks, decked him out with her favourite flowers, and then -carried him away, through the still greenwood, to her own little home -on the common, pleased as a child that has found a new toy. Strange -that the life which had been endangered by the thoughtlessness of a -companion, should be guarded by the tenderness of one bereft of reason. - -Minnie Wingfield soon entered the cottage, and was received with -Christian hospitality. She was placed by the fire, her dress dried, and -food placed before her; and her mind was relieved by hearing that a -messenger had been sent to her village to bear tidings to Mrs. Bright -that her Johnny was safe and under shelter. What a joyful end to all -Minnie’s anxieties; how sweet the reward of all the painful efforts -that she had made! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIII. - -WINGS AND STINGS. - - -It is now time that I should draw my tale to a close; but as my reader -may like to know what became of the little people, with wings and -without wings, that we have followed through this story, I shall give a -few more pages to an account of their fate. - -The first sunbeam which shone the next morning upon the hive, glittered -on Silverwing, as with joyous speed she hastened back to her home. -She continued there her busy and her happy life, finding sweetness -everywhere, honey in each flower, and cheering the less joyous -existence of Sipsyrup, whose wing never quite recovered its power. As -the injured bee was unable to fly out with the next swarm, her friend -remained behind to bear her company: they passed the summer days in -active employ and the winter in plenty and repose. - -[Illustration: SILVERWING AND SIPSYRUP.] - -I have a less pleasing account to give of Waxywill, who was certainly -a most wayward bee. She chose to go out honey-seeking one day, when -required for work in the hive; she resolved, contrary to orders, to -visit the dwelling of a humble-bee, and because she knew that her -cousins of that race live underground, against the warnings of her -companions she entered a little hole in a bank, and found herself -in the midst of a nest of wasps! Her melancholy fate may easily be -imagined; she died beneath the stings of her enemies. - -But, perhaps, you are more desirous to hear what befell our heroes and -heroines of the human race. - -Let my reader then fancy himself again beneath the little porch which -adorns the front of Mrs. Wingfield’s cottage. It is now later in -the year, the finest flowers in the garden have faded, one or two -sunflowers and a few dahlias look gay still; but the fresh feel of the -morning air, the white tinge on the grass, and the heavy dew which has -strung Spinaway’s web with numberless tiny beads, show that the autumn -is now advanced. Beneath the porch sits Minnie, busy as usual with her -work, before the hour for going to school. Tom is near her, engaged in -stringing together little egg-shells, collected in the spring; pretty -enough in themselves, but won at the expense of much misery to the -poor birds whose nests he had robbed. - -Who approaches from the opposite side of the lane, bearing a baby -carefully wrapped up in her arms? You will scarcely recognize poor -Polly, once so fond of finery and folly. How much nicer she looks in -her present quiet dress, with her gentle subdued look and kindly air. - -Then the baby did live? Yes, he did live; a poor sickly delicate child. -But oh, the tenderness with which he has been watched by Polly, who -now seems to think that she can never do enough for her brothers! She -appears to have thrown away her vanity with her diamond-brooch; or -rather, she has thoroughly learned the painful lesson taught through -that terrible evening and night. The resolutions that she then made -she has not forgotten, the prayers which she then uttered were from -the heart,--and there is not in the whole village to be found a more -sober, modest, quietly-dressed girl, always placing her duties before -her pleasures, than the once vain, selfish Polly Bright. - -She now drew near, carrying the baby, with little Johnny trotting after -her, his cheeks just as rosy, and his figure as round, as before his -adventure in the woods. It had left on his mind a great affection for -Minnie, who had always been a favourite with the child; and he now ran -up to his friend with an apple in his hand, as round and as rosy as -himself. - -“Minnie Wings,” said the little boy, holding it up to her lips, “Minnie -Wings, you take bite.” - -Minnie smilingly accepted the proffered kindness of the child, after -stooping down to kiss his rosy face. - -“Come here, you little rogue,” said Tom, in a tone half surly and -half good-humoured; “tell me why you call her Minnie Wings instead of -Wingfield?” - -“’Cause,” said Johnny, with dimpling cheeks, “she fly to help me.” - -“So did I,” observed Tom; “so I suppose that I am ‘Wings’ too.” - -Johnny fixed his round eyes full upon his neighbour, and slowly -retreating backwards, as if rather afraid, replied, “No; you Tommy -Stings.” - -Tommy would have been angry at the speech, if he could have helped -laughing at it; but the manner and look of the child, half resolute, -half frightened, were so irresistibly comic, that Tommy Stings put the -best face upon the matter, and appeared good-humoured for once in his -life. He was certainly in a mood more amiable than usual, having that -morning been engaged to go as an errand-boy in a neighbouring town, -where, under the eye of a strict master, we may hope that his conduct -may improve, and that he may cease to deserve the title bestowed upon -him by little Johnny. - -“I have come to give you good news, dear Minnie,” said Polly, after -joining in the laugh which her little brother had occasioned; “we have -had a letter from the Crimea, and my dear father is well.” - -“I am so glad of that!” cried Minnie, who was ever ready to rejoice -with the rejoicing. - -“And you looked so bright when I first saw you,” said Polly, “that I -suspect that you have some good news of your own to give me in return.” - -“You are quite right; I have famous news, dear Polly. The squire’s lady -was here late last evening; you know how kind she is. She wants to -place her baby’s foster-brother in some cottage near her, and, to my -joy, has fixed upon ours!” - -“And will she pay well?” - -“Oh, more than we could have ventured to hope. We really shall now be -quite comfortable. My mother is so much pleased; I do not think that I -have seen her so well or so cheerful ever since our great troubles last -year. How good God has been to us!” added the little girl, her eyes -glistening with bright tears of gratitude and pleasure; “He has always -raised up friends for us in our need.” - -“Yes, Minnie, and you, who are a friend to all who require one, are -never likely to be in want of a friend.” - -“I shall so enjoy having a dear little child to look after; I am sure -that it will be a pleasure rather than a trouble.” - -“It is easy to guess,” said Polly, with a good-natured smile, “why the -lady chose your cottage for the home of the baby.” - -Johnny, after two or three vain attempts, had succeeded in clambering -up the bench on which Minnie was seated. She now felt his little arms -pressed round her neck, as he drew her down towards him to whisper -close in her ear, “Everybody happy with my Minnie Wings.” - - * * * * * - -And now, nothing remains but that A. L. O. E. should bid her young -readers farewell. If they have liked her little book, let them -remember that her story is but as the comb, which may be pleasant to -the eye, but that its moral is the honey which is treasured within. -However young, however weak, dear children, you may be, know that the -youngest, the weakest, have some power here to give either pleasure -or pain. A generous spirit shrinks from inflicting suffering on the -smallest insect or the feeblest worm; and I trust that no reader of my -little tale will hesitate which part to take for his own, or leave it -doubtful whether he ought to be classed under the title of WINGS OR -STINGS. - -[Illustration: ·FINIS·] - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[A] Naturalists doubt whether the violet-bee is a native of Britain. It -is known that one species of carpenter-bee is to be found in England, -but the one described above probably belongs to foreign lands. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wings and Stings, by A. L. O. E. - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINGS AND STINGS *** - -***** This file should be named 60065-0.txt or 60065-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/6/60065/ - -Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. 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