Hail-Storms at E-tcKo^wo^ 75 



As I neared Kimball Farm, where Ball Brook 

 meets Thompson's stream, I found the road opposite 

 the barns flooded, — like a river flowing across the 

 road. It was far too deep for me to wade through, be- 

 sides, the current was so strong that I should have been 

 tripped had I ventured it. I had to walk some dis- 

 tance on the stone wall and over a heavy plank, which 

 some one during a previous deluge had placed here 

 for a high-water footbridge in an emergency. 



A walk up the hill, and I turned off the road, enter- 

 ing a path through the cow^-pastures, to see the heaps 

 of hail under the pines along Thompson's Brook, 

 which was a beautiful, roaring and seething torrent 

 now, as it plunged and leaped down through its rocky 

 flume to the valley below. 



As I came out on the highway again, at the bend in 

 the road near Ball Farm, I heard the familiar voice of 

 some one who had been sent in search of me. I was 

 warmed with enthusiasm and interest in the storm's 

 ravages, and thoroughly enjoying my walk. However, 

 I was grateful for a ride home. Passing by School 

 Fourteen, we saw the prudent teacher scanning the sky 

 before she ventured forth. We noticed many broken 

 panes of glass in the schoolhouse windows, while 

 dozens were shattered in the houses along the way. 



I had hoped to revisit the colony of the Showy Moc- 

 casin-Flowers which I had found in Cranberry Swamp, 

 north of the pond on June 14th. But Merwin's mother 

 told me that without doubt they had been gathered 

 on Saturday afternoon, June 19th, by three students 



