ON THE WEATHER 



lish temperature charts showing that the 

 thermometer never goes above 70 degrees 

 in the summer, nor below 60 degrees in 

 the winter. I am surprised that euiybody 

 cares to live in such a country. I prefer 

 a wider variety in my allotment. I like 

 to run the whole gamut of weather. In 

 our country, where we get three whole 

 octaves, chromatic scale, with trills on 

 high C, and shakes on low G, — sometimes 

 all within the space of a week, — here there 

 is some music to life. Here we see the 

 world in a myriad moods. Here the land- 

 scape panorama moves from scene to scene 

 as season follows season, and even as day 

 treads upon day. The world is new to us 

 every morning, and always fresh and full 

 of loveliness. 



This much had to be said toward put- 

 ting down silly complainers. It is more 

 to our interest, however, to notice how the 

 changes of the weather multiply the beau- 

 ties of landscape. To-day I saw the river 

 covered by a thick mist, between snow and 

 rain. Yesterday it was under a gray win- 

 try sky, white and solemn, bound in snow 

 and ice. To-morrow it may be flooded 

 with sunshine and flashing back the light 



77 



