teps.

What amused her was to see how the young cock birds showed off to the
little hens. They were conceited fellows, and only seemed happy when
they had five or six little hens looking admiringly at their every
movement. At such times they would dance and hop with great delight;
and the little hens, in a circle round them, watched their hops and
steps with absorbed interest. Immensely pleased with himself, the
young dancer would fluff out his feathers, so as to look as big as
possible, and after strutting about, would suddenly shoot out a leg and
a wing, first on one side and then on the other, then spring high into
the air, and do a sort of step dance when his feet touched the earth
again. Endless were the tricks he resorted to, to show off his
feathers and dancing to the best advantage; and the little hens watched
it all with silent intentness.

In the meantime the frogs and crickets stopped to rest, and Dot could
hear the conversation of some of the old birds perched near her. A
little party of elderly hens were discussing the young birds who were
dancing at the bower.

"I must say I don't admire that new step which is becoming so popular
amongst the young birds," said one elderly hen; and all her companions
rustled their feathers, closed their beaks tightly, and nodded their
heads in various ways. One said it was "rough," another that it was
"ungainly," and others that it was "unmannerly."

"As for manners," said the first speaker, "the bower birds of this day
can't be said to have any!" and all her companions chorused, "No,
indeed!"

"In my young day," continued the elderly hen, and all the group were
sighing, "Ah! in our young days!" when a young hen perched on a bough
above them, and interrupted pertly, "Dear me, can't you good birds find
anything more interesting to talk about than ancient history?" At this
the group of gossips whispered angrily to one another, "Minx!" "Hussy!"
"Wild cat!" etc., and the rude young bird flew back to her companions.

"What I object to most in young birds," said another elderly hen, "is
their appearance. Some of them do nothing all day but preen their
feathers. Look at the over-studied arrangements of their wing flights,
and the affected exactness of their tall feathers! One looks in vain
for sweetness and simplicity in the present-day young bower birds."

"Even that is better than the newer fashion of scarcely preening the
feathers at all," observed another of th