had in exploring a cave on New River, which was ten miles long and sometimes so narrow that he could scarcely squeeze through it. On entering, he drove a wildcat before him, which kept at a safe distance, always facing him with eyes that glowed like flames in the darkness. The route was marked for return by setting up stones pointing toward the entrance. When he went in, the sun was high and his lantern was full of oil; when he came out, darkness was settling over the river and the oil was gone. The generous luncheon eaten in a grove by the river approached a banquet in proportions, but it all disappeared, nevertheless, while the gay autumn leaves floated down and decorated the improvised table. Then a ramble over the rocky hill above the cave among the ferns and goldenrod brought the party to the observatory tower, which was climbed only by the very ambitious. It was here that the class in physics came into prominence through calculating the height of the tower by means of a stone and a watch. The stone was dropped from the tower and the time it required to reach the ground was noted in seconds. Let us suppose the time was three seconds; the distance would then be 9 [the square of 31 multiplied by 16 [one half of gravity], or 144 feet. CHAPTER VII CLOUDS CLOUDS are usually considered anything but a blessing, until the earth is parched and vegetation scorched, when we eagerly scan the sky for rain. There is a region where for six months at a time the sun shines every day. To the visitor from northern climes, it seems a radiant land and he wishes it might be radiant forever. But after his skin has become hardened and wrinkled by the dryness and his eyes strained and narrowed by the glare, he prays for a cloud even as big as a man's hand to shield him from the burning sun. The farmer observes the clouds more than the average man because they may mean meat as well as drink to him, but he could not fully appreciate "The Cloud" of Shelley. He sees the gray-mare's-tails, the mackerel sky, the sun drawing water, the ring around the moon, the threatening sunset, clouds that are blown up with wind or greenish-streaked with hail, clouds that drop rain as gently as dew or pour it down in floods, and clouds that throw a blanket over the world on a chilly night and save his crops from frost. The artist or poet looks at the subject somewhat differently. To him, "The clouds are at play in the azure space And their shadows at play on the bright green vale, And there they roll on the easy gale." He sees the fleecy clouds and clouds that scud across the sky, or lonely clouds that sail majestically by like stately ships; clouds that boil up in threatening thunder-heads or vibrate with summer lightning on the distant horizon after dark; clouds that form the crimson-tinted gates of the morning or the variegated curtains drawn across the evening sky to hide the sleeping sun; clouds with silver linings and rainbow hues or clouds that have all the solemnity and dark magnificence of a far-flung battle front. The To the purely scientific man, clouds are nothing more than the fog that forms in front of a tea-kettle spout when the hot, invisible steam reaches the cooler surrounding air and condenses to rain-dust. vapor of water is continually rising unseen from the surface of the earth to the cooler and rarefied regions of the upper air, where by expansion it rapidly cools off and condenses into clouds. The scientist sees the cloud-banners flung from snow-capped mountains or stands on a mountain peak bathed in sunlight while the clouds below him empty themselves in rain; he watches the forked lightning dart from cloud to cloud and hears the thunder reverberate among the distant hills. But all this is understood; it is no longer Jupiter hurling thunderbolts forged by Vulcan under Mt. Etna; the giant forces of nature are at work and man has learned to master them. There is still another way of viewing clouds. The moralist sees the light of life obscured by sorrow and he thinks of the sun hidden by clouds to which it gives a silver lining. He sees sorrows softening and renewing the heart as the rain freshens and fructifies the earth. He sees the dark cloud fling out a rainbow of hope to the suffering and discouraged soul, whom the storms of life have almost engulfed in despair. THE GLAD GIRL AND THE SAD GIRL Rosa came bounding along the hall, humming a merry tune, and ran into Laura, dragging a pair of unwilling feet in the direction of the mathematics room. "Hello, Laura, I almost bumped into you. How are you feeling this morning?" "Not very well. I slept badly last night and woke up with a headache; then the rolls were nothing but dough and I couldn't eat any breakfast; and now I am going to class without knowing my algebra lesson." "That's too bad. Couldn't I help you a little with your algebra?" "It's no use, I would be certain to get a question I didn't know, just the same.' "That sounds like fatalism. At least, you needn't cross the bridge before you come to it." "I am a fatalist; I believe some people were born to be happy and others to be miserable. As to crossing bridges, if I didn't get used to my sufferings in advance, they would be certain to kill me." "You need a mind doctor. I'm going to see the Naturalist about you. Goodbye." Away she went with her radiant face and merry tune, leaving Laura more dejected than ever. Later in the day, she met the Naturalist and got a prescription from him for such cases; the doses to be taken with lemon juice and water every morning for a week, and repeated if necessary. |