from the clouds, the rain
stopped, and the water which had fallen sank into the ground.

I did not waste many minutes in reaching the garden. What a sight met my
eyes! The broad path stretched itself out before me smooth and wet; not
a single hole remained,--all were buried deep under the sand. Instead of
the air being, as was usual, fairly alive with busy, happy creatures,
there was now, here and there, a miserable mud-covered insect clinging
to a leaf, and wearily trying to clean its heavy wings.

What a sad ending to the gay, bright summer!

The next day, however, I found a few survivors hard at work digging
again; but this time every hole was sloping instead of perpendicular.
After much thought, I came to the conclusion that these clever little
creatures had found the way to prevent such another calamity as had
overtaken them the day before. Formerly, the first drops of an unusually
hard shower filled the holes instantly, drowning the inmates. Now, this
could not happen, especially if the openings were placed, as most of
them were, under the shelter of the big grape-leaves which at many
points rested on the edge of the path. This all took place two years
ago; but each summer since then has brought with it some of our old
friends, the digger-wasps.

[Illustration: AFTER THE RAIN-STORM.]

THE EMERGENCY MISTRESS.

(_A Fairy Tale._)

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

Jules Vatermann was a wood-cutter, and a very good one. He always had
employment, for he understood his business so well, and was so
industrious and trustworthy, that every one in the neighborhood where he
lived, who wanted wood cut, was glad to get him to do it.

Jules had a very ordinary and commonplace life until he was a
middle-aged man, and then something remarkable happened to him. It
happened on the twenty-fifth of January, in a very cold winter. Jules
was forty-five years old, that year, and he remembered the day of the
month, because in the morning, before he started out to his work, he had
remarked that it was just one month since Christmas.

The day before, Jules had cut down a tall tree, and he had been busy all
the morning sawing it into logs of the proper length and splitting it up
and making a pile of it.

When dinner-time came around, Jules sat down on one of the logs and
opened his basket. He had plenty to eat,--good bread and sausage, and a
bottle of beer, for he was none of your poor wood-cutters.

As he was cutting a sausage,