XII. A TEMPERANCE LESSON FOR 

 THE HORNETS. 



AST spring a hornet, one of those long brown 

 Xk^'j double chaps that boys call mud-wasps, 

 crept out of his mud shell at the top of 

 my window casing, and buzzed in the sun- 

 ^ shine till I opened the window and let him 

 go. Perhaps he remembered his warm quarters, or 

 told a companion ; for when the last sunny days of 

 October were come, there was a hornet, buzzing 

 persistently at the same window till it opened and 

 let him in. 



It was a rather rickety old room, though sunny and 

 very pleasant, which had been used as a study by 

 generations of theological students. Moreover, it was 

 considered clean all over, like a boy with his face 

 washed, when the floor was swept; and no storm of 

 general house cleaning ever disturbed its peace. So 

 overhead, where the ceiling sagged from the walls, 

 and in dusty chinks about doors and windows that no 

 broom ever harried, a family of spiders, some mice, a 

 daddy-long-legs, two crickets, and a bluebottle fly, 



i6i 



