On the morning of this memorable day, as Mrs. Wolfe was employed in some household duties, Chunga rushed into the verandah, joyfully crying—
"Oh, missie! oh, missie! de birds are come!"
"What birds?" inquired her mistress in amazement, wondering what new object was going to be exhibited to her, but almost expecting to see a creature with three legs, or two heads.
"De pittas, missie; de ant-thrushes, you call them," said the black woman, gleefully. "Now missie's house will be clean; massa is away, all de tings will be turned out," and as she spoke, she seized her mistress's dress, and, gently drawing her to the open door, directed her attention to several dark-coloured, short-tailed birds which were hopping from tree to tree in the neighbourhood.
"I don't see anything extraordinary about them," said Mrs. Wolfe, in a disappointed tone; "they are only small ugly birds."
"But look dere, missie," persisted Chunga, pointing towards the forest, from the dark shades of which Shiny-pate and his battalions were emerging.
"Why, it is an army of ants!" cried the Irish lady. "How curious! how pretty!"
"Dey is coming here," remarked Chunga carelessly, as she watched the procession.
"the warriors dashed in."