"U NCLE Will," said Theodore, one cold November day, as they were walking briskly over the frozen ground, "where are all the wasps now?"
"Sure enough, Theodore, where are they?"
"They must be tucked up in their cradles for the winter, Uncle Will."
"Yes, they are all tucked up in their cradles. King Frost
has taken the
"They are wrapped in such warm silk blankets," said Theodore. "Do all the cradled wasps have silk blankets about them, Uncle Will?"
"All I know have, and very likely all of them are thus supplied."
"We cannot see the wasps, Uncle Will, but it is nice to think of them lying so snug and safe down in the ground."
"Yes, under our feet are the nests of the little wasps that were so happy all last summer. Everywhere old Mother Earth holds the insect children and the seed babies safe in her bosom. Winter will come soon and spread a thick, white snow-blanket over them, and thus they will lie warm enough and safe until lovely spring, with her crown of sunbeams, comes and calls them out into the sunshine and fresh air."
"And in the beams of the houses are the little cradles with the wasp babies wrapped in silk," added Theodore.
"Yes," continued Uncle Will; "and out in the garden are wasp nests cunningly hidden in the hollow stems of bushes, and under the roofs of the sheds are little mud caves, each with its living inmate, and hidden in cracks and corners the young queen hornets are lying asleep—dreaming maybe of the coming of the warmth and the flowers of spring."
"It is a fine thing to look forward to the springtime," said Theodore, "when all the little seeds and eggs and pupae stretch themselves and come out of the holes in the ground and the holes in the beams and the bush twigs, and find it is warm and lovely."
"Yes," said Uncle Will, "nothing outside of heaven is more wonderful or more beautiful than the blossoming of life on the earth."