WHEN torrents are pouring or tempests are roaring how pleasant and
cheerful is home! To sit by the winder all drier than tinder and watch
the unfortunates roam! With glad eyes to follow the fellows who wallow
around in the rain or the sleet, to watch them a-slipping and sliding
and tripping, and falling all over the street! There’s nothing so
soothing, so apt to be smoothing the furrows of grief from your brow, as
sitting and gazing at folks who are raising out there in the mud such a
row! To watch a mad neighbor through hurricane labor, while you are all
snug by the fire, to see him cavorting and pawing and snorting—what more
could a mortal desire? I love storm and blizzard from A clear to Izzard,
I’m fond of the sleet and the rain; let winter get busy and whoop till
he’s dizzy, and I’ll be the last to complain. For there is a casement
just over the basement where I in all comfort may sit, and watch people
wading through mud or parading through snow till they fall in a fit.
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