A SUMMER VOYAGE 



the most part rejoice in it. It is a completion, a con- 

 summation, 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 borrowed 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 powers. Then, 

 how the slate is sponged off, and left all clean and 

 new again! 



In the shed where I was sheltered were many 

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

 sition with two of the most stalwart wagon or truck 

 wheels I ever looked upon was a cradle of ancient 

 and peculiar make, an aristocratic cradle, with 

 high-turned posts and an elaborately carved and 

 moulded body, that was suspended upon rods and 

 swung from the top. How I should have liked to 

 hear its history and the story of the lives it had 

 rocked, as the rain sang and the boughs tossed 

 without! Above it was the cradle of a phoebe-bird 

 saddled upon a stick that ran behind the rafter; its 

 occupants had not flown, and its story was easy to 

 read. 



Soon after the first shock of the storm was over, 

 and before I could see breaking sky, the birds 

 tuned up with new ardor, the robin, the indigo- 

 bird, the purple finch, the song sparrow, and in the 

 meadow below the bobolink. The cockerel near 

 me followed suit, and repeated his refrain till my 

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