quiet nook to see what was going on. It was evidently a wedding; and I
was just in time to see it, for the procession was passing at that
moment. First came a splendid cock-a-doodle, all in black and gold, like
a herald, blowing his trumpet, and marching with a very dignified step.
Then came a rook, in black, like a minister, with spectacles and white
cravat. A lark and bullfinch followed,--friends, I suppose; and then the
bride and bridegroom. Miss Wren was evidently a Quakeress; for she wore
a sober dress, and a little white veil, through which her bright eyes
shone. The bridegroom was a military man, in his scarlet uniform,--a
plump, bold-looking bird, very happy and proud just then. A goldfinch
gave away the bride, and a linnet was bridesmaid. The ceremony was very
fine; and, as soon as it was over, the blackbird, thrush and nightingale
burst out in a lovely song.

A splendid dinner followed, at which was nearly every bird that flies;
so you may imagine the music there was. They had currant-pie in
abundance; and cherry-wine, which excited a cuckoo so much, that he
became quite rude, and so far forgot himself as to pull the bride about.
This made the groom so angry that he begged his friend, the sparrow, to
bring his bow and arrow, and punish the ruffian. But, alas! Sparrow had
also taken a drop too much: he aimed wrong, and, with a dreadful cry,
Mr. Robin sank dying into the arms of his wife, little Jane.

It was too much for me; and, taking advantage of the confusion that
followed, I left the tragical scene as fast as possible.

A little farther on, I was shocked to see a goose dragging an old man
down some steps that led to a little house.

"Dear me! what's the matter here?" I cried.

"He won't say his prayers," screamed the goose.

"But perhaps he was never taught," said I.

"It's never too late to learn: he's had his chance; he won't be pious
and good, so away with him. Don't interfere, whatever you do: hold your
tongue, and go about your business," scolded the goose, who certainly
had a dreadful temper.

I dared say no more; and, when the poor old man had been driven away by
this foul proceeding, I went up the steps and peeped in; for I heard
some one crying, and thought the cross bird, perhaps, had hurt some one
else. A little old woman stood there, wringing her hands in great
distress; while a small dog was barking at her with all his might.

"Bless me! the fashions have got even here," thought I; fo