A FEBRUARY FRESHET 111 



for it is to share by so much in their humble lives, 

 and by so much to live outside of one's own little 

 self. ' 



And then again, we are so accustomed to the 

 order and fair weather of our part of the globe, that 

 we get to feel as if the universe were being partic- 

 ularly managed for us ; nay, that we, personally, are 

 managing the universe. To flatten out on a quaking 

 ridge of earth or be blown into the river ; to hear no 

 voice but the roar of the storm, and to have no part 

 or power in the mighty tumult of such a storm, makes 

 one feel about the size of a mouse, makes one feel 

 how vast is the universe, and how fearful the vortex 

 of its warring forces ! 



The shriek of those winds is still in my ears, 

 the sting of the driving rains still on my face, the 

 motion of that frail mud bank, swimming like a long 

 sea-serpent in the swirling waters, I can still feel to 

 my finger-tips. And the growl of the river, the 

 streaming shreds of the sky, the confusion beneath 

 and about me, the mice and muskrats clinging with 

 me for a foothold I live it all again at the first 

 spatter of a February rain upon my face. 



To be out in a February freshet, out in a big 

 spring break-up, is to get a breaking up one's self, a 

 preparation, like Nature's, for a new lease of life 

 for spring. 



