hadows. For an instant the edges of the thick, creamy masses of cloud
are gilded by the shrouded sun, and show gorgeous scallops of gold,
that toss upon the hem of the storm. But the blazonry fades as the
clouds mount; and the brightening lines of the lightning dart up from
the lower skirts, and heave the billowy masses into the middle heaven.

The workmen are urging their oxen fast across the meadow, and the
loiterers come straggling after with rakes upon their shoulders. The
matronly hen has retreated to the stable-door; and the brood of turkeys
stand dressing their feathers under the open shed.

The air freshens, and blows now from the face of the coming clouds. I
see the great elms in the plain swaying their tops, even before the
storm-breeze has reached me; and a bit of ripened grain upon a swell of
the meadow waves and tosses like a billowy sea.

Presently I hear the rush of the wind; and the cherry-and pear-trees
rustle through all their leaves; and my paper is whisked away by the
intruding blast.

There is a quiet of a moment, in which the wind even seems weary and
faint, and nothing finds utterance save one hoarse tree-toad, doling out
his lugubrious notes.

Now comes a blinding flash from the clouds, and a quick, sharp clang
clatters through the heavens, and bellows loud and long among the hills.
Then--like great grief spending its pent agony in tears--come the big
drops of rain,--pattering on the lawn and on the leaves, and most
musically of all upon the roof above me,--not now with the light fall of
the Spring shower, but with strong steppings, like the first proud tread
of Youth!

I.

_Cloister Life._

It has very likely occurred to you, my reader, that I am playing the
wanton in these sketches, and am breaking through all the canons of the
writers in making You my hero.

It is even so; for my work is a story of those vague feelings, doubts,
passions, which belong more or less to every man of us all; and
therefore it is that I lay upon your shoulders the burden of these
dreams. If this or that one never belonged to your experience, have
patience for a while. I feel sure that others are coming which will lie
like a truth upon your heart, and draw you unwittingly--perhaps
tearfully even--into the belief that You are indeed my hero.

The scene now changes to the cloister of a college; not the gray,
classic cloisters which lie along the banks of the Cam or the
Isis,--huge, battered hulks, o