FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 213 



drops were wrung out, the expanding cir 

 cles ceased upon the pools, the rivulets ran 

 away from the newly stratified sand upon 

 the roadways, with their wave lines and 

 curves and ripples, and through a rift in 

 the gray clouds the sun poured down its 

 golden rays again upon the grass field, 

 already showing a fresh verdancy after the 

 unwonted refreshment. 



The world goes up, and the world goes down. 

 And the sunshine follows the rain. 



It is the first time in many, many weeks 

 that the ground has been soaked, and I do 

 not mourn over the deep pools in my cellar, 

 or begin to speculate upon the probability 

 of my being able to establish a domestic 

 trout pond in that convenient locality. I 

 merely realize gratefully that there is 

 scarcely a physical possibility that we shall 

 have it so dry again before the frost comes. 



Some others of our home circle are gone, 

 soon to return, we hope, with the shorten 

 ing days and lengthening nights, these to 

 the Narragansett shore, and those to the 

 rocks of the Pine Tree State. And to-mor 

 row Monsieur and Madame Liquidambar 

 tempt the ocean surges in quest of the 



