JULY. 179 



of the scythe blends harmoniously with the pleasant 

 rural sounds of animated nature. The air is filled with 

 the fragrance of new mown hay — the dying incense- 

 offering of the troops of flowers that perish beneath the 

 fatal scythe. Many are the delightful remembrances to 

 those who have spent their youth in the country, con- 

 nected with the labors of haymaking. -In moderate 

 summer weather, there is no more delightful occupation. 

 Every toil is pleasant that leads us out into green fields, 

 and serves to fill the mind with the cheerfulness of all 

 living things. But this employment, so agreeable to 

 one who makes it only the amusement of a few leisure 

 hours on a pleasant day, becomes, at certain times, a 

 very laborious toil. 



Often in the middle of a clear sunny afternoon, the 

 western horizon is suddenly mantled with dark clouds 

 rising rapidly, that threaten to spoil all the last day's 

 labor of the haymakers. Then all hands are summoned, 

 and there is a general scrambling to gather the hay into 

 stacks or to load it into barns. The rumbling thunder 

 at a distance, is constantly rousing them from every 

 relaxation of their efforts, and ere they have completed 

 their task, the scarce and heavy drops warn them to 

 seek shelter within doors. Immediately the rain de- 

 scends in torrents, and the whole atmosphere is envel- 

 oped in darkness, that renders more glaring the fre- 

 quent vivid flashes, that precede the awful voice of 

 heaven. 



Soon, when the sun comes forth, as in a new morn- 

 ing, from behind his' late pavilion of clouds and dark- 

 ness, the rainbow appears in the opposite firmament, 

 and the whole landscape smiles beneath its variegated 

 beams. The birds fly out from their shelters, and re- 

 joicing in the reappearance of the sun, and the renova- 



