86 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. 



seems to be one large shower-bath. You think with 

 horror of the books, writing-case, photographs, lace- 

 trimmed hat, work-basket, boots, etc., all left in various 

 exposed positions about the room, and — most frightful 

 thought of all — of the coats and dresses hanging on the 

 row of pegs in that corner where, to judge by the sound, 

 the most substantial of all the cataracts seems to be 

 descending ; and you feel that you must learn at once 

 the extent of your misfortune, and rescue what you can. 

 You try to light a candle ; but a well-directed jet of 

 water has been steadily playing straight down into the 

 candlestick, and a vicious sputter is the only response 

 to your efforts. You are still struggling with the candle; 

 trying to wipe it dry, using persuasive language to it, 

 and as far from getting a light as ever; when your 

 breath is suddenly taken away by a stream of ice-cold 

 water pouring over your back, and you find that you 

 have shipped as fine a " sea " as ever dashed through an 

 incautiously-opened port. The flat roof, which has been 

 collecting water till it has become like a tank, has given 

 way under the pressure, and a wide crack has opened 

 just above your head. Of course you are wet through, 

 so is the bed on which you are sitting ; and you make 

 a prompt descent from the latter, only to find the floor 

 one vast, shallow bath, in which ycrur slippers are 

 floating. 



And now, as you grope about, hurriedly collecting 

 the more perishable articles, and flinging them into the 

 safety of the next room — which has a corrugated iron 

 roof — you hear a dull roar ; far ofl'at first, but advancing 



