floats in the honey, and eats all it can so that it will quickly
become a grown-up.

"There is one beetle which plants a tiny fungus in its home in the
ground. The babies run along and eat the tips of this delicacy, while
the mothers and fathers take larger bites. These are called
ambrosia-beetles, because of the dainty food they eat. Now that the
storm is over, I mustn't tell you anything more than a few words about
the engraver-beetle, which lives between the bark and the live wood of a
tree. Mr. and Mrs. Engraver-Beetle make a long tunnel under the bark.
Mrs. Engraver makes notches along the sides, and in every notch lays an
egg. When the babies hatch, each one begins a tunnel for itself, running
out straight from the long one. And now that's the end of this story."

"Well, Ben," said Tom, respectfully, "these children don't know the
value of the things they are learning. It's a privilege, sir, to have a
chance to guide with you. I've learned more in these last years about
God's wonders from you than ever I learned in all my long life. I didn't
know there were so many beetles in the world."

"These are only half a dozen of a multitude of beetles which we haven't
the time to name."

"Now, off to bed, children," said Mrs. Reece, "or you'll never be able
to get up early. Good-night to every one!"

XIV

A DAY'S HUNTING

It was a glorious day after the night's storm. By five o'clock the
children were ready to go hunting with Ben Gile.

Although they were rather sleepy, yet they managed to get an early
breakfast--five o'clock is an early breakfast, isn't it?--and by six
o'clock they were off into the woods. Ben Gile made the children follow
behind him in single file, and so in line, making as little noise as
possible, they went through the woods. The birch-trees and poplars, in
the midst of the darker, heavier foliage, seemed golden with the early
sunlight. Everywhere the bushes sparkled with the rain of the night
before. They took a path that ran almost in a curve around one entire
side of the mountain. Ben Gile kept a sharp lookout, for the partridge,
he knew, would be upon the ground or up in the trees. He pointed to
several places where partridge had been scratching. The woods were full
of them, and every minute he expected to hear the whir of their wings as
they started up. And, sure enough, there was suddenly a loud beating of
wings, and then, crack! crack! crack! from the shot-gun. Down came three