A VAGRANT WASP. 217 



shaking his wings. Now, he seems to be engaged about 

 something, but what nobody can tell, unless he is biting and 

 gnawing the wood for very idleness ; or perhaps (waspish 

 fellow as he is), for very ill-humour at seeing the Bees so 

 happy and so busy around him. 



There ! he has left the post, and flown down to the bank-side ; 

 and now, all at once, he has disappeared within a hole, the 

 liybernaculum, we fancy, of some field-mouse, into which he has 

 entered without even the common civility of asking permission. 

 What business is he after ? some mischief or another, that's 

 certain, for whenever yet was Wasp or vagrant intent on good ? 

 always poking his nose, now into this cranny, now into that, 

 peering here and prying there. Well ! there's not an atom of 

 his great golden-winged body to be discerned within the 

 tunnel ; so there's certainly no seeing what he is about, and he 

 will not tell us if we wait for his return ; besides, a cloud has 

 passed over the sun ; the Bees have all gone off, some with 

 panniers only half-loaded, as if expecting an April shower 

 before its time ; and perhaps we shall be prudent to take their 

 warning and go home too. 



Here we are, again seated by our own fire, such as is 

 always agreeable on an overcast afternoon in early spring ; 

 and we are, consequently, in pleasant mood, disposed to be 

 in good-humour with, and do justice to all; with propor- 

 tionate desire to atone for word or deed of unfairness com- 

 mitted towards the meanest creature. Now some such 



