THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 247 



she was so self-satisfied when her long-threatened 

 accouchement was over. So comfortably she lay, with 

 her nose upon her paws, along the hot kitchen-floor 

 before the fire. I never knew so persistent a breeder. 

 She might be fairly ranked with Lord Granville's 

 "rabbit and curate." During the night she had cleared 

 a lodging out beneath the wood-stack, and there the 

 children found six little black-and-tan puppies, which 

 became, of course, prime favourites at once, and were 

 brought out upon the lawn between every schooltime 

 to sleep beside them as they read story-books reclining 

 on a travelling-rug, while the old parent stood by 

 wagging her tail gratefully, and quaintly pricking her 

 ears in acknowledgment of the notice her babies got at 

 head-quarters. But these six were too many both for 

 me and the mother, and so there are only two left 

 beside her now. She went hunting up the straw with 

 her nose, the children say, on her first noticing the 

 deficient number ; and they too have been rooting up 

 every one with inquiries as to "where the pups are 

 gone." And one smiles, and another don't know, and 

 altogether it is unsatisfactory. Some dirty, young, 

 mis-shapen wild pigeons, which have been just brought 

 up in triumph from the wood, will, I dare say, heal the 

 wound and take the place of the dear departed. 



"We have been very unlucky with a beautiful brood 

 of fifteen young pheasants. One after another and 

 three at once they began to droop their wings, and we 

 could not discover why. Then they pined and died, not 

 having suffered from "gapes " nor from any cause that 

 we could discover by a post mortem examination, unless 

 it was that they were worn out by a plaguey insect 

 visitation. For during our investigation quite a swarm 



