154 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



but let him go, of course," added the perhaps not over- 

 pleased mistress of the old farm-house. 



So I went ; and let me add here, if any who read this 

 page should ever go on a similar errand, let him incase 

 his precious cranium with a metal skull-cap. The old 

 mansions erected in the past century were built to stand, 

 and where you least expect to find them, there will be 

 massive beams that are not to be left unconsidered. I 

 entered, with some confidence, one of the dark closets 

 under the eaves, and nearly decapitated myself. It 

 seemed several moments before I recovered from the 

 shock, and meanwhile wished the house, from turret to 

 foundation-stone, in Jericho. Eecovered at last, with 

 all caution and no confidence I crawled in, for the roof 

 was too low to enable any other position to be assumed, 

 and when my eyes became adapted to the dim light, 

 commenced the survey of the dusty, musty, waspish sur- 

 roundings. The old lady was right. There were wasps 

 there ; and one came to the end of my nose and rested 

 quietly thereon. I could use neither hand to dislodge 

 it, and I wriggled my nose until my whole face ached. 

 The wasp liked the seesaw motion and sat still. I tried 

 to blow it off, but my mustache only soothed his wasp- 

 ship, and he stroked each particular hair, I thought, and 

 sat still. Slowly, then, I retraced my steps to the door 

 of the closet, and once free, sent the wasp spinning 

 through the air. It returned in hot haste — terribly 

 hot to my bald pate — and I started to retreat ; but no ! 

 I shall explore that garret, I vowed, and I did. 



Again on all-fours in the closet, I moved towards an 

 old trunk at the most distant point ; but it was not so 



