me ill-will;
And if I escape from each murderous blow,
The first cutting frost lays the bluebottle low.

"So little bee buzzing, a lesson pray give;
Remember the motto to `live
and let live;' For one moment teach me sweet honey to make,
That again in the spring-time with you I may wake."

"Buzz," said the bee, "that's all very fine, but you were never meant to
make honey. Go and do your duty, and lay eggs in the bad meat to make
maggots to eat it up, so that we may not have the nasty stuff lying
about. I daresay you think we have a very fine time of it amongst the
honey; but, don't you know, sometimes somebody comes with the brimstone
and smothers us all, and takes the honey away? How should you like
that, old blue-boy?"

"Worse and worse--wuz-z-z-ooz-wooz," said the bluebottle, and off he
flew, and never sang any more songs to the bees; while the old bee burst
out laughing so heartily at the way in which the bluebottle was
frightened, that he let all the bee-bread tumble out of his baskets, and
before he could pick it up, a bee from another hive flew off with it.

"There," said the first bee, "that comes of laughing at other people,
and now I've got all my work to do over again; but, oh dear! how he did
bustle off when I told him about the brimstone."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

COLD WEATHER.

At last the merry summer-time was gone, and the flowers began to hang
their heads in the gardens, looking wet and soiled; for every now and
then the cold wind would come with a rush and a roar and knock the poor
things about dreadfully; sometimes they would be struck right down on
the ground, where they would lie, never to get up any more. Sometimes,
however, the sun would come out to cheer them up again, but he was not
at all warm; and then the nights began to grow so long and cold that the
flowers had nearly made up their minds to go to sleep for the winter,
when Jack Frost sent word one night that he was coming, and his
messenger left such a cold chill everywhere that he had been, that the
flowers all went to sleep at once, and the leaves on the trees, turning
yellow with fright, began to shake and shiver, and tumble off as hard as
ever they could tumble, till they lay in great rustling heaps all over
the gravel walks, where they were swept up and carried off into the
back-yard. And then all the birds were as busy as ever they could be:
the young ones were now strong on the wing, and there were such meet