The very hot weather culminated one afternoon in a dead faint of earth and sea and sky. An Alpine cloudland of snow that had mocked the upturned eyes of Greyport for hours, began to darken under the folding shadow of a black and velvety wing. The atmosphere seemed to thicken as the gloom increased; the lazy dust, thrown up by hurrying feet that sought a refuge, hung almost motionless in the air. Suddenly it was blown to the four quarters in one fierce gust that as quickly dispersed the loungers drooping in shade and cover. For a few seconds the long avenue was lost in flying clouds of dust, and then was left bare of life or motion. Raindrops in huge stars and rosettes appeared noiselessly and magically upon the sidewalks--gouts of moisture apparently dropped from mid-air. And then the ominous hush returned. A mile away along the rocks, I turned for shelter into a cavernous passage of the overhanging cliff, where I could still watch the coming storm upon the sea. A murmur of voices presently attracted my attention. I then observed that the passage ended in a kind of open grotto, where I could dimly discern the little figures of several children, who, separated from their nurses in the sudden onset of the storm, had taken refuge there. As the gloom deepened they became silent again, until the stillness was broken by a familiar voice. There was no mistaking it.--It was Sarah Walker's. But it was not lifted in lamentation, it was raised only as if resuming a suspended narrative. "Her name," said Sarah Walker gloomily, "was Kribbles. She was the only child--of--of orphaned parentage, and fair to see, but she was bad, and God did not love her. And one day she was separated from her nurse on a desert island like to this. And then came a hidgeous thunderstorm. And a great big thunderbolt came galumping after her. And it ketched her and rolled all over her--so! and then it came back and ketched her and rolled her over--so! And when they came to pick her up there was not so much as THAT left of her. All burnt up!" "Wasn't there just a little bit of her shoe?" suggested a cautious auditor. "Not a bit," said Sarah Walker firmly. All the other children echoed "Not a bit," indignantly, in evident gratification at the completeness of Kribbles' catastrophe. At this moment the surrounding darkness was suddenly filled with a burst of blue celestial fire; the heavy inky sea beyond, the black-edged mourning horizon, the gleaming sands, each nook and corner of the dripping cave, with the frightened faces of the huddled group of children, started into vivid life for an instant, and then fell back with a deafening crash into the darkness. There was a slight sound of whimpering. Sarah Walker apparently pounced upon the culprit, for it ceased. "Sniffling 'tracts 'lectricity," she said sententiously. "But you thaid it wath Dod!" lisped a casuist of seven. "It's all the same," said Sarah sharply, "and so's asking questions."