Our Changing Humors.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 839, 30 March 1888, Page 4

Our Changing Humors.

What true children of the earth are we ? How invariably do we reflect in our own tempers the ever-changing humors of our great mother Nature. Sorrowful when she is sad, merry when she is glad, grumpy when Bhe ia disagreeable, fretful when she is squally, happy when she is laughing ; we are only her great family of troublesome brats. No wonder we are alway talking about the weather ; it is mother’s temper—an important matter to ub kids. It is pouring with rain; mother is having a big wash, and it makes the house unpleasant, and we don’t like it, though we are told it must be done and that it makes it all the nicer for us afterwards. We get wet everything ia-

uncomfortable, and we can’t ran about and play, and so we crowd up together out of her way, and grumble, and wish mother wouldn’t ' wash at all, and we like it dirty beat. It is cold and bleak, and the biting East wind nips our noses and freezes our hands and feet ; mother is cross and disagreeable, and doesn’t care for us, and we dont’t care for mother. We hate everybody and everything, and are quarrelsome among ourselves, and want to go away and leave home altogether. It is bright and fair and warm. Mother is pleased with us and is smiling, and is stretching her big loving arms out towards us, and the rain and the wind and the cold are all forgotten, and we run to her, and laugh, and nestle up against her broad soft bosom, and love one another, and aro happy. We are only her big nurseryful of noisy children.—Jerome K. Jerome.