, and the green
grass, and the delicious brook who never ceases sing, sing, singing
all day and night. And all the things are fond of me; the grass and
the flowers, and the birds and the animals--all of them love me."

"I think I shall take you home and put you under a glass case on the
mantelpiece," said Bevis.

Off jumped the grasshopper in a moment, and fell so lightly on the
grass it did not hurt him in the least, though it was as far as if
Bevis had tumbled down out of the clouds. Bevis tried to catch him,
but he jumped so nimbly this way and that, and hopped to and fro, and
lay down in the grass, that his green coat could not be seen. Bevis
now went down to the brook and stood on the bank, where it was high,
near a bush at the side of the drinking place. "Ah, dear little Sir
Bevis!" whispered a reed, bending towards him as the wind blew,
"please do not come any nearer; the bank is steep and treacherous, and
hollow underneath where the water-rats run. So do not lean over after
the forget-me-nots--they are too far for you. Sit down where you are,
behind that little bush, and I will tell you all about the bathing.
The birds come down to bathe every Midsummer Day, and the goldfinches,
and the sparrows, and the blackbirds, and the thrushes, and the
swallows, and the wrens, and the robins, and almost every one of them,
except two or three, whose great-grandfathers got into disgrace a long
while ago. The rooks do not come because they are thieves, and steal
the mussels, nor the crows, who are a very bad lot; the swan does not
come either, unless the brook is muddy after a storm. The swan is so
tired of seeing himself in the water that he quite hates it, and that
is the reason he holds his neck so high, that he may not see more of
himself than he can help."

Soon the birds came. They were all in their very best and brightest
feathers, and as the sun shone on them and they splashed the water and
strutted about, Bevis thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

They did not all bathe, for some of them were specially permitted only
to drink instead, but they all came, and all in their newest dresses.
So bright was the goldfinch's wing, that the lark, though she did not
dare speak, had no doubt she rouged. The sparrow, brushed and neat, so
quiet and subdued in his brown velvet, looked quite aristocratic among
so much flaunting color. As for the blackbird he had carefully washed
himself in the spring before he came t