"Not in the simmering still, over smoking fires choked with poisonous gases, and surrounded with stench of sickening odors and rank corruption doth your Father in Heaven prepare that precious essence of life, pure cold water. Both in the green shade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders and the child loves to play, there God brews it; and down, low down in the deepest valleys, where the fountains murmur and the rills sing; and high up on the mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters like gold in the sun; where hurricanes howl music; where big waves roar the chorus, sweeping the march of God--there, he brews it, that beverage of life, health-giving water. "And everywhere it is a thing of beauty; gleaming in a dew-drop; singing in the summer rain, shining in the ice-gem, till the trees seem turning to living jewels, spreading a golden vail over the setting sun; or white gauze round the midnight moon; sporting in the glacier; dancing in the hail-shower; folding bright snowy curtains softly above the wintry world, and weaving the many-colored iris, that seraph's zone of the sky, whose warp is the rain of earth, whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all checkered o'er with celestial flowers by the mystic hand of refraction--still always beautiful; that blessed cold water. No poison bubbles on its brink; its foam brings not madness and murder; no blood stains its liquid glass; pale widows and starving orphans weep not burning tears in its clear depths; no drunkard's shrieking from the grave curses it in words of despair! Speak out, my friends, would you exchange it for the demon's drink, alcohol?" THE DELUGE. The judgment was at hand. Before the sun Gathered tempestuous clouds, which, blackening, spread Until their blended masses overwhelmed The hemisphere of day: and, adding gloom To night's dark empire, swept from zone to zone-- Swept the vast shadow, swallowing up all light, And covering the encircled firmament As with a mighty pall! Low in the dust Bowed the affrighted nations, worshiping. Anon the o'ercharged garners of the storm Burst with their growing burden; fierce and fast Shot down the ponderous rain, a sheeted good, That slanted not before the baffled winds, But, with an arrowy and unwavering rush, Dashed hissing earthward. Soon the rivers rose, And roaring fled their channels; and calm lakes Awoke exulting from their lethargy, And poured destruction on their peaceful shores. The lightning flickered in the deluged air, And feebly through the shout of gathering waves Muttered the stifled thunder. Day nor night Ceased the descending streams; and if the gloom A little brightened when the lurid morn Rose on the starless midnight, 'twas to show The lifting up of waters. Bird and beast Forsook the flooded plains, and wearily The shivering multitudes of human doomed Toiled up before the insatiate element.