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UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

frey's man Enoch to Geoffrey the following week, as they were shovelling up ant-hills in the wood.

Geoffrey stuck in the shovel, swept seven or eight ants from his sleeve, and killed another that was prowling round his ear, then looked perpendicularly into the earth, waiting for Enoch to say more. 'Well, why shouldn't she?' said the keeper at last.

'The baker told me yesterday,' continued Enoch, shaking out another emmet that had run merrily up his thigh, 'that the bread he've left at that there school-house this last month would starve any mouse in the three creations; that 'twould so. And afterwards I had a pint o' small at the Old Souls, and there I heard more.'

'What might that ha' been?'

'That she used to have half a pound o' the best rolled butter a week, regular as clockwork, from Dairyman Quenton's; but

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