taken the trouble to master those acquirements he never would have been blown into the water, but instead could have flown straight to the town-hall and perched there, and crowed until the aldermen and the whole town had been aroused and come to his rescue. But now he was clean blown into the sea, and the big waves sported impertinently with him, and the pike and perch gaped for very wonder at beholding such an ugly old monster; at last the disgusted waves flung him ashore, and there he lay, a helpless wreck, a sorry image of pride.

On the strand stood a small hut, in which lived an old woman and her two children, a boy and a girl. The children often amused themselves by constructing little dams and docks, in and out of which the little fishes darted as in merry sport. When the little children went rambling along the shore in quest of suitable stones for their play, they found the poor old weathercock in sad plight; the jolly billows had clean washed away all his gaudy colouring, and he had fought with the stones in the shallow water of the strand until he had lost both his beak and well-spread tail.

The children upon seeing him said: "Mother always complains that the crows and sparrows do such damage to our garden things, but now we have found a help for that; here's a splendid

scarecrow! let us get a line and drag this big old monster up to the beans and peas." And thus the proud weathercock, in his old age, became perched on a pole to serve as a scare

crow, instead of being gilded and proclaimed grand Sultan of all the poultry in the world. Then it happened that the crow, who in the days of his prosperity had addressed him as "your Excellency," came flying up intending to have a "bean-feast," for that is a festival crows always try their very hardest to keep, but "heugh," she saw the horrid scarecrow, and scrambled away again in hot haste, but in her flight she could not keep from looking back, and recognising her old acquaintance, said, Quah, quah! Dear me, your Excellency has become a scarecrow at last! What did I tell you? pride is sure to have a fall."

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"Hold your gab!" croaked a sensible old raven who sat perched on a pine-stump close by. "The poor old cock has been lazy and vain, and therefore he has met with reverses; but remember, he is now old and wretched, and so ought not to be railed at, but pitied! Nobody knows what may befall himself in his old age."

The old weathercock heard all this, but could make no answer, for he had no beak, and was pierced by a knotty old pole, and there I think he remains to this day.

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