FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 177 



XXXIII. 



How beautiful is the rain ! 



After the dust and heat, 



In the hroad and fiery street, 



In the narrow lane, 



How beautiful is the rain ! 



THE leaden clouds gather around us and 

 shut off the hot rays of the sun, and the 

 thunder comes nearer than we have had it 

 in many weeks. But we have become in 

 credulous, and I hear the patter of the fall 

 ing drops upon the leaves over my head 

 before I realize that there is any need for 

 me to gather up my books and papers, and 

 seek shelter under the neighbouring roof. 

 For a moment the drops fall merrily, and 

 bury themselves in the finely powdered dust 

 upon the drive outside the window ; but 

 before the surface has been moistened all 

 over, the supply is cut off, a break appears 

 in the curtain which covers the heavens, 

 and the sun gleams through again as though 

 like the clown at the circus, to say, &quot; Here 

 we are again ! &quot; 



