174 A RAINY-BAY TRAMP. 



fine now, drew a shimmering veil before the 

 trees, — a veil like a Japanese bead-hanging, 

 which hides nothing, only the rain veil was more 

 diaphanous than anything fashioned by human 

 hands. It did not conceal, but enhanced the 

 charm of everything behind it, lending a glamour 

 that turned the woods into enchanted land. 



Before the house how the prospect was 

 changed ! The hills and Adirondack woods in 

 the distance were cut sharply off, and our little 

 world stood alone, closed in by heavy walls of 

 mist. 



My glass transported me to the edge of the 

 side lawn, where I looked far under the trees, and 

 rejoiced in the joy of the woods in rain. The 

 trees were still, as if in ecstasy "too deep for 

 smiling;" the ferns gently waved and nodded. 

 Every tiny leaf that had thrust its head up 

 through the mould, ambitious to be an ash or a 

 maple or a fern, straightened itself with fullness 

 of fresh life. The woods were never so fasci- 

 nating, nor showed so plainly 



" The immortal gladness of inanimate things." 



A summer shower the birds, and we, have 

 reason to expect, and even to enjoy, but a down- 

 pour of several hours, a storm that lays the deep 

 grass flat, beats down branches, and turns every 

 hollow into a lake, was more than they had pro- 



