The Wit of the Wild 



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its sting showing at the top of the ground, and 

 two hind feet clinging to the surface. 



Now it was plain why her wings were folded 

 so snugly on her back the ordinary shape 

 would never do for a miner, like this industrious 

 little lady. 



She worked on as hard as ever, bringing up 

 earth and pebbles, piling them in a ring around 

 her, and then diving after more; and all the 

 time she sang a low, contented, humming song 

 which told of hope and joy. Why not? She 

 was constructing a home a place for her 

 babies, where the first object of her existence, 

 the limit of her desire and ambition, should be 

 satisfied. The sun shone, the ground was dry 

 and warm, no parasites were near to make her 

 anxious nor enemies to alarm her. Why 

 shouldn't she sing of her content and glad- 

 ness ? 



For some time then I noticed that she went 

 no deeper, so I concluded that she was hollow- 

 ing out a chamber at the end of her sloping 

 drift, and I was right. 



It was just half an hour by the watch from 

 *$ 16 $o 



