86 IS IT GOING TO RAIN? 



port of the sun is withdrawn ; life is under a cloud ; 

 a masculine inood gives place to something like a 

 feminine. In this sense, rain is the grief, the weep- 

 ing of Nature, the relief of a burdened or agonized 

 heart. But tears from Nature's eyelids are always 

 remedial and prepare the way for brighter, purer 

 skies. 



I think rain is as necessary to the mind as to vege- 

 tation. Who does not suffer in his spirit in a drought 

 and feel restless and unsatisfied ? My very thoughts 

 become thirsty and crave the moisture. It is. hard 

 work to be generous, or neighborly, or patriotic in a 

 dry time, and as for growing in any of the finer 

 graces or virtues, who can do it ? One's very man- 

 hood shrinks, and if he is ever capable of a mean act 

 or of narrow views, it is then. 



Oh, the terrible drought, when the sky turns to 

 brass ; when the clouds are like withered leaves ; 

 when the sun sucks the earth's blood like a vampire ; 

 when rivers shrink, streams fail, springs perish ; when 

 the grass whitens and crackles under your feet; 

 when the turf turns to dust ; when the fields are like 

 tinder ; when the air is the breath of an oven ; when 

 even the merciful dews are withheld, and the morn- 

 ing is no fresher than the evening ; when the friendly 

 road is a desert and the green woods like a sick- 

 chamber ; when the sky becomes tarnished and 

 opaque with dust and smoke ; when the shingles on 

 the houses curl up, the clapboards warp, the paiut 

 blisters, the joints open; when the cattle rove dis* 



