THE BOW IN THE CLOUDS 



storm, but the storm knows it not. The eye knows 

 it not, and sees it not unless placed at a certain def- 

 inite point in relation to it. The point of view makes 

 the bow. No two persons see precisely the same rain- 

 bow; there are as many bows as there are beholders. 



Sometimes we see two rainbows, as if nature were 

 in an extra happy mood. In the second one the colors 

 are in reverse order from that of the first. The first 

 is due to the rays of the sun falling upon the outer 

 portions of the drops and sufFering two refractions 

 and one reflection before reaching the eye, while the 

 second bow is due to the rays falling on the inner side 

 of the drops and suffering two refractions and two 

 reflections. 



The rainbow is an apparition of color and form in 

 the air. It is not so much an entity as the radiant 

 shadow of an entity — fugitive, unreal, phantasmal, 

 unapproachable, yet as constant as the sun and rain. 



The sunset is afar off, painted upon the distant 

 clouds, but the rainbow comes down to earth and 

 spans the next field or valley. It hovers about the 

 playing fountain; it beams out from the swaying 

 spray of the cataract. It is as familiar as the day, 

 yet as elusive as a spirit, — a bow of promise, in- 

 deed, — a symbol of the peace, the moderation, and 

 the beneficence in nature that brought man upon the 

 earth and now sustains him here. 



What aeons must have passed in the history 

 of the earth before the elements reached that har- 

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