PEPACTON: A SUMMER VOYAGE. 29 



front of me. I ran ashore, covered my traps, and 

 took my way up through an orchard to a quaint little 

 farm-bouse. But there was not a soul about, outside 

 or in, that I could find, though the door was unfast- 

 ened ; so I went into an open shed with the hens, 

 and lounged upon some straw, while the unloosed 

 floods came down. It was better than boating or 

 fishing. Indeed, there are few summer pleasures to 

 be placed before that of reclining at ease directly un- 

 der a sloping roof, after toil or travel in the hot sun, 

 and looking out into the rain-drenched air and fields. 

 It is such a vital, yet soothing spectacle. We sym- 

 pathize with the earth. We know how good a bath 

 is, and the unspeakable deliciousness of water to a 

 parched tongue. The office of the sunshine is slow, 

 subtle, occult, unsuspected ; but when the clouds do 

 their work the benefaction is so palpable and copious, 

 so direct and wholesale, that all creatures take note 

 of it, and for the most part rejoice in it. It is a com- 

 pletion, a consummation, a paying of a debt with a 

 royal hand ; the measure is heaped and overflowing. 

 It was the simple vapor of water that the clouds bor- 

 rowed of the earth ; now they pay back more than 

 water; the drops are charged with electricity and 

 with the gases of the air, and have new solvent pow- 

 ers. Then, how the slate is sponged off, and left all 

 Jean and new again ! 



In the shed where I was sheltered were many 

 relics and odds and ends of the farm. In juxtaposi- 

 tion with two of the most stalwart wagon or truck 



