With what subtle and assured tyranny they take possession of the world!
Stoutest hearts are made subject, plans of conquerors set aside,--the
heavens and the earth and man,--all alike at the mercy of the rain. Come
when they may, wait long as they will, give what warnings they can, rainy
days are always interruptions. No human being has planned for them then
and there. "If it had been but yesterday," "If it were only to-morrow," is
the cry from all lips. Ah! a lucky tyranny for us is theirs. Were the
clouds subject to mortal call or prohibition, the seasons would fail and
death get upper hand of all things before men agreed on an hour of common
convenience.
What tests they are of people's souls! Show me a dozen men and women in
the early morning of a rainy day, and I will tell by their words and their
faces who among them is rich and who is poor,--who has much goods laid up
for just such times of want, and who has been spend-thrift and foolish.
That curious, shrewd, underlying instinct, common to all ages, which takes
shape in proverbs recognized this long ago. Who knows when it was first
said of a man laying up money, "He lays by for a rainy day"? How close
the parallel is between the man who, having spent on each day's living the
whole of each day's income, finds himself helpless in an emergency of
sickness whose expenses he has no money to meet, and the man who, having
no intellectual resources, no self-reliant habit of occupation, finds
himself shut up in the house idle and wretched for a rainy day. I confess
that on rainy mornings in country houses, among well-dressed and so-called
intelligent and Christian people, I have been seized with stronger
disgusts and despairs about the capacity and worth of the average human
creature, than I have ever felt in the worst haunts of ignorant
wickedness.
"What is there to do to-day?" is the question they ask. I know they are
about to ask it before they speak. I have seen it in their listless and
disconcerted eyes at breakfast. It is worse to me than the tolling of a
bell; for saddest dead of all are they who have only a "name to live."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account