THIS morning sky, after the night's tempest, is a pure and dazzling blue. The air—the delicious air—is full of sweet resinous odors, shed from the countless pine-boughs broken and strewn by the gale. In the neighboring bamboo-grove I hear the flute-call of the bird that praises the Sûtra of the Lotus; and the land is very still by reason of the south wind. Now the summer, long delayed, is truly with us: butterflies of queer Japanese colors are flickering about; semi are wheezing; wasps are humming; gnats are dancing in the sun; and the ants are busy repairing their damaged habitations.. ......I bethink me of a Japanese poem:—

  Yukue naki
Ari no sumai ya!
  Satsuki ame.

[Now the poor creature has nowhere to goI... ......Alas for the dwellings of the ants in this rain of the fifth month!]

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