But while we are discussing politics KIPPER and the stagbeetle are still in danger. Although the stagbeetle kicked with all his might he found that it only injured his horns, and so, like many other creatures not of a gambling nature, lay still and trusted to chance. As to KIPPER, he was as motionless as a schoolboy's watch. But about a quarter-of-an-hour after the accident a pretty young maiden, named EGLANTINE, came tripping along the road. She was not one of those girls who know that they are nice, because no one had ever told her so, and she was too poor to afford a looking-glass. But this did not prevent her from being good to all the inhabitants of the forest, whether they had four legs, or two, or none at all, as was the case with the snakes and blind worms. Yet the best of us must have enemies, and she had incurred the anger of NIPPARD, the great and poisonous hornet, whose only pleasure, like that of some people who have guns, was to go out and kill something. EGLANTINE had saved two lambs once from his murderous attacks by driving them into an out-house, and NIPPARD had never forgotten or forgiven the insult, and vowed vengeance. This he had carried out in several ways. He had stung EGLANTINE'S goat to death, killed her pet dog, and so tortured a brood of chickens belonging to her widowed mother, that they had imagined themselves to be ducklings and were drowned in a pond. These troubles caused great grief to EGLANTINE and her parent, and ruin stared them in the face; and, when ruin stares, there is not often a back way out of the difficulty. Very sad, therefore, was the poor girl as she approached the place of KIPPER'S disaster. But directly she saw what had happened she forgot all her own troubles, and, with many words of pity, extricated the stagbeetle from the stones. The insect was so pleased, that he wished to embrace her: but stagbeetles kiss, like Laplanders, by rubbing noses; so EGLANTINE declined the offer, and hurried to pick up the luckless KIPPER, with whom she had a bowing acquaintance. In her case, therefore, familiarity had never bred contempt for his sulky ways. She was really sorry to see the poor fellow in such dreadful plight, and took him up, as tenderly as she would have a butterfly with a broken leg. Then she laid him on the soft grass, and sent the stagbeetle to get some wild mint while she loosened his waistcoat, and gently fanned his face with a dock-leaf. When the mint arrived, she crushed the fragrant leaves between her fingers, and made him inhale the scent, still keeping up the fanning. [Illustration: "Here we are again!"]