IS IT GOING TO RAIN? 105 



Our cunningly devised and bedecked table, which the 

 housekeepers had so doted on and which was ready 

 spread for breakfast, was washed as by the hose of a 

 fire-engine, only the bare poles remained, and 

 the couch of springing boughs that was to make sleep 

 jealous and o'erfond became a bed fit only for am- 

 phibians. Still the loosened floods came down ; still 

 the great cloud mortars bellowed and exploded their 

 missiles in the tree-tops above us. But all nervous- 

 ness finally passed away, and we became dogged and 

 resigned. Our minds became water-soaked ; our 

 thoughts were heavy and bedraggled. We were past 

 the point of joking at one another's expense. The 

 witticisms failed to kindle, indeed, failed to go, 

 like the matches in our pockets. About midnight 

 the rain slackened, and by one o'clock ceased entirely. 

 How the rest of the night was passed beneath the 

 dripping trees and upon the saturated ground, I have 

 only the dimmest remembrance. All is watery and 

 opaque ; the fog settles down and obscures the scene. 

 But I suspect I tried the " wet pack " without being 

 a convert to hydropathy. When the morning dawned, 

 the wives begged to be taken home, convinced that 

 the charms of camping- out were greatly overrated. 

 We who had tasted this cup before, knew they had 

 read at least a part of the legend of the wary trout 

 without knowing it. 



