DAME NATURE'S HOUSE-CLEANING DAYS.
What is the use of rainy days? I hear the children saying. How many bright little air-castles have been dashed to pieces by those rattling raindrops, only the children know as they gaze out, with rueful faces, at the lowering skies, dripping trees, and streaming walks. But think a moment, children. Would our houses be fresh and clean, and pretty to live in, if Bridget were never allowed to have her washing, and scrubbing, and house-cleaning days? Neither would the world stay fair and beautiful if Dame Nature were not allowed to have her house-cleaning days. She is not so orderly in all parts of the world as she is here. In some countries, she does not give them a good scrubbing up for six months at a time, and then the dust grows so thick that people can scarcely breathe; the flowers die; the grass withers up; and the fields are almost as brown there in the middle of summer as they are here in the winter. In fact, the faces of these countries grow so fearfully dirty that Dame Nature has to go to work and wash and scrub them for six months at a time, to make them look at all respectable. Perhaps you would like to live in those countries where a rainy day is scarcely ever known? I think it would make your tender little hearts ache to see their miles and miles of desert sands, and their trees which can afford no fresh green leaves for want of rain, but are clothed, instead, with sharp, cruel thorns. I never knew any one to spend a rainy day in the woods; but I imagine that it would be fun to see the frolicsome winds putting things to rights, sweeping up the dry leaves, and dancing with the wild flowers, while above, the raindrops scour every leaf, and, tumbling down, brighten the blades of grass and wash the dusty roads. But not one atom of dust or one dry leaf is wasted, for Dame Nature is a very economical lady. Last year's flowers and leaves are used up in making this year's carpet of bright green grass, with its embroideries of violets, while many of the leaves that swing against the blue have doubtless swung there oft before. And, year after year, the woods and pastures round will be just as orderly as they are to-day, because, every year, the cast-off garments of the trees and flowers will be swept up and torn to pieces by the winds and rain, and used in manufacturing new and beautiful ones. To be sure, these house-cleaning days are not lovely. Dame Nature looks dismal in her work-a-day garments of gray, and all out-doors looks dreary, and sloppy, and tearful. But see! the setting sun is shining out, and how fresh and beautiful the broad landscape looks in the clear, evening air! Dame Nature's faithful servants, the wind and rain, sink down to rest. The earth is clean; their work is done.