ON LOOKING AT THE SKY 



To see the stars well one must make 

 his camp in the desert. There, as he lies 

 rolled for the night in his blankets, sur- 

 rounded only by distance and desolation, 

 he looks up into greater beauties than all 

 the museums, galleries and conservatories 

 of civilization can offer. But these things 

 can be seen in part from any farm, and a 

 little even from the street corner. The 

 wonder is that any man should prefer ser- 

 mons or Sunday papers. 



The sky is capable of tremendous 

 shifts and changes. I have seen "the cloud 

 battalions wheel and form." Three times 

 in my life I have seen the cyclone descend 

 upon the earth and sweep everything in its 

 path. Oh, the awful majesty of that sight! 

 The simple memory of it makes a man's 

 heart stand still. What has the drama or 

 literature or painting, or any art to put 

 beside that picture? 



Every mood and every temper has its 

 representative in the clouds and the sky. 

 There are afternoons when the heavens 

 frown like Oliver Cromwell, days when 

 they weep like Keats, mornings when they 

 are as fair as Esther. 



Above, hangs the blue dome, the de- 

 es 



