IS IT GOING TO RAIN? 73 



allel. For nearly three months there was no rain 

 to wet the ground. Large forest trees withered and 

 cast their leaves. In spots, the mountains looked as 

 if they had been scorched by fire. The salt sea- 

 water came up the Hudson ninety miles, when ordi- 

 narily it scarcely comes forty. Toward the last, the 

 capacity of the atmosphere to absorb and dissipate 

 the smoke was exhausted, and innumerable fires in 

 forests and peat-swamps made the days and the 

 weeks — not blue, but a dirty yellowish white. 

 There was not enough moisture in the air to take 

 the sting out of the smoke, and it smarted the nose. 

 The sun was red and dim even at midday, and at 

 his rising and setting he was as harmless to the eye 

 as a crimson shield or a painted moon. The me- 

 teorological conditions seemed the farthest possible 

 remove from those that produce rain, or even dew. 

 Every sign was negatived. Some malevolent spirit 

 seemed abroad in the air, that rendered abortive 

 every effort of the gentler divinities to send succor. 

 The clouds would gather back in the mountains, the 

 thunder would growl, the tall masses would rise up 

 and advance threateningly, then suddenly cower, 

 their strength and purpose ooze away ; they flattened 

 out; the hot, parched breath of the earth smote 

 them; the dark, heavy masses were re-resolved into 

 thin vapor, and the sky came through where but a 

 few moments before there had appeared to be deep 

 behind deep of water-logged clouds. Sometimes a 

 cloud would pass by, and one could see trailing be- 

 neath and behind it a sheet of rain, like something 



