46 THE SHOWER.
ing its infant eye, and the tendril reaching forth its clasping hands, he would find their characters refining under these sweet rural influences, and their hearts more ready to appreciate His goodness, who feedeth the lily on the moorlands, and maketh the " wilder ness to blossom as the rose."
On this excursion we had our first specimen of the dripping skies of good old England,
For as we turned Our visit o er and on the public coach Chose out the topmost seat, rejoicing much At the fair prospect of the whitewash d cots, Hedge-guarded and rose-sprinkled, all at once Down came the rain.
It was an awkward thing
To meet such drenching streams, all pinioned close, And perched on dizzy roof. To get inside, With each bespoken cushion densely pack d, Was quite impossible. Nor did it seem. More feasible, with swaying arm to hold The wet umbrellas, and adjust their seams Like a torn tent-roof, and our place maintain Upon that flying vehicle.
Our party, cowering close, with drooping plumes, Praised earnestly our own less watery skies, Or, silent, mused, as women sometimes will, Upon an injured wardrobe. I deplored My well-saved cashmere shawl, a very sponge,