Soldiers
suggested themselves, not soldiers engaged in war, but
soldiers drilling in times of peace, to be reviewed,
maybe, by some great general. That central point from
which the arm had sprung and which had been due north
had sidled over to the northwest; the low-flung line
along the horizon had taken on the shape of a long wedge
pointing east; farther west it, too, looked more massive
now--more like a rather solid wall. And all those
soldier-clouds fell into a fan-shaped formation--into
lines radiating from that common central point in the
northwest. This arrangement I have for many years been
calling "the tree." It is quite common, of course, and
I read it with great confidence as meaning "no amount of
rain or snow worth mentioning." "The tree" covered half
the heavens or more, and nowhere did I see any large
reaches of clear sky. Here and there a star would peep
through, and the moon seemed to be quickly and quietly
moving through the lines. Apparently he was the general
who reviewed the army.
Again there came a shifting in the scenes. It looked as
if some unseen hands were spreading a sheet above these
flocculent clouds--a thin and vapoury sheet that came
from the north and gradually covered the whole roof of
the sky.
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