AFTERNOON WITH THE RABBITS. 123 



It was a sight to see Joyce thrashing away 

 with pick and spade, smashing the rocks, and 

 tearing up the roots with his hands, throwing 

 himself down at full length, and thrusting 

 his arm into the hole ; he could touch fur, 

 but could not get hold. Up again, with 

 spade and pick, (the latter he broke in his 

 desperate energy,) till at last, after an hour's 

 almost superhuman toil, he drew forth, first, 

 the dead rabbit, with the ferret hanging on 

 by his teeth, and then, from another corner, 

 a live one quite uninjured. We gave him a 

 chance for his life ; but it was a poor chance 

 Venator's aim is too deadly. 



We finished by running another bunny 

 into his hole under a bush ; the active Joyce 

 was down at full length, and in a jiffy drew 

 the rabbit out, at the same time disturbing 

 the calm repose of a wasps' nest just above 

 the hole. Joyce got a "kick" in the arm; 

 but what cared he ? He drew out the dagger 

 like a hero, and thought nothing of it. 



You have all been invited in your time to 

 the Grasshopper's Feast and the Butterfly's 

 Ball, and I hope none of you have forgotten 

 those festivities. I have to offer you an 

 evening party with hornets an occasion on 

 which Joyce's heroism was even more con- 

 spicuous. 



