CHAPTER VII 



MIDSUMMER 



" Thou sentest a gracious rain upon thine inheritance ; 

 and refreshedst it when it was weary," 



The whole garden is singing this hymn of praise 

 and thankfulness. It is the middle of June ; no rain 

 had fallen for nearly a month, and our dry soil had 

 become a hot dust above, a hard cake below, A 

 burning -wind from the east that had prevailed for 

 some time, had brought quantities of noisome blight, 

 and had left all vegetation, already parched with 

 drought, a helpless prey to the devouring pest. 

 Bushes of garden Roses had their buds swarming 

 with green-fly, and all green things, their leaves first 

 coated and their pores clogged Avith viscous stickiness, 

 and then covered with adhering wind-blown dust, were 

 in a pitiable state of dirt and suffocation. But last 

 evening there was a gathering of grey cloud, and this 

 ground of grey was traversed by those fast-travelling 

 wisps of fleecy blackness that are the surest promise 

 of near rain the sky can show. By bedtime rain was 

 falling steadily, and in the night it came down on the 

 roof in a small thunder of steady downpour. It was 

 pleasant to wake from time to time and hear the wel- 



