pleasant death." So said the Cucumber.

During the night the weather became very bad; hens, chickens, and even
the cock himself sought shelter. The wind blew down with a crash the
partition between the two yards, and the tiles came tumbling from the
roof, but the weathercock stood firm. He did not even turn round; in
fact, he could not, although he was fresh and newly cast. He had been
born full grown and did not at all resemble the birds, such as the
sparrows and swallows, that fly beneath the vault of heaven. He despised
them and looked upon them as little twittering birds that were made only
to sing. The pigeons, he admitted, were large and shone in the sun like
mother-of-pearl. They somewhat resembled weathercocks, but were fat and
stupid and thought only of stuffing themselves with food. "Besides,"
said the weathercock, "they are very tiresome things to converse with."

The birds of passage often paid a visit to the weathercock and told him
tales of foreign lands, of large flocks passing through the air, and of
encounters with robbers and birds of prey. These were very interesting
when heard for the first time, but the weathercock knew the birds always
repeated themselves, and that made it tedious to listen.

"They are tedious, and so is every one else," said he; "there is no one
fit to associate with. One and all of them are wearisome and stupid. The
whole world is worth nothing--it is made up of stupidity."

The weathercock was what is called "lofty," and that quality alone would
have made him interesting in the eyes of the Cucumber, had she known it.
But she had eyes only for the yard cock, who had actually made his
appearance in her yard; for the violence of the storm had passed, but
the wind had blown down the wooden palings.

"What do you think of that for crowing?" asked the yard cock of his hens
and chickens. It was rather rough, and wanted elegance, but they did not
say so, as they stepped upon the dunghill while the cock strutted about
as if he had been a knight. "Garden plant," he cried to the Cucumber.
She heard the words with deep feeling, for they showed that he
understood who she was, and she forgot that he was pecking at her and
eating her up--a happy death!

Then the hens came running up, and the chickens followed, for where one
runs the rest run also. They clucked and chirped and looked at the cock
and were proud that they belonged to him. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed
he; "the chickens in the