thunder burst just above the boat— all holding 

 on to finish the wind's work. 



It was soon over. The leaves were dripping 

 when I crept out of my shell ; the afternoon sun 

 was blinking through a million gleaming tears, 

 and the storm was rumbling far away, behind 

 the swamp. A robin lighted upon a branch over 

 me, and set off its load of drops, which rattled 

 down on my boat's bottom like a charge of shot. 

 I glided into the stream. Down the pond where 

 I had seen the sullen clouds was now an inde- 

 scribable freshness and glory of shining hills and 

 shining sky. The air had been washed and was 

 still hanging across the heavens undried. The 

 maple-leaves showed silver ; the flock of chim- 

 ney-swifts had returned, and among them, twin- 

 kling white and blue and brown, were tree- 

 swallows and barn-swallows squeaking in their 

 flight like new harness ; a pair of night-hawks 

 played back and forth across the water, too, 

 awakened, probably, by the thunder, or else mis- 

 taken in the green darkness of the storm, think- 

 ing it the twilight ; and the creek up and down 

 as far as I could hear was ringing with bird- 

 calls. 



[141] 



