That rains so called are only of water colored by sand from the Sahara Desert.
My own acceptance is that such assurances, whether fictitious or not, whether the Sahara is a "dazzling white" desert or not, have wrought such good effects, in a sociologic sense, even though prostitutional in the positivist sense, that, in the sociologic sense, they were well justified:
But that we've gone on: that this is the twentieth century; that most of us have grown up so that such soporifics of the past are no longer necessary:
That if gushes of blood should fall from the sky upon New York City, business would go on as usual.
We began with rains that we accepted ourselves were, most likely, only of sand. In my own still immature hereticalness—and by heresy, or progress, I mean, very largely, a return, though with many modifications, to the superstitions of the past, I think I feel considerable aloofness to the idea of rains of blood. Just at present, it is my conservative, or timid purpose, to express only that there have been red rains that very strongly suggest blood or finely divided animal matter—
Débris from inter-planetary disasters.
Aerial battles.
Food-supplies from cargoes of super-vessels, wrecked in inter-planetary traffic.
There was a red rain in the Mediterranean region, March 6, 1888. Twelve days later, it fell again. Whatever this substance may have been, when burned, the odor of animal matter from it was strong and persistent. (L'Astronomie, 1888-205.)
But—infinite heterogeneity—or débris from many different kinds of aerial cargoes—there have been red rains that have been colored by neither sand nor animal matter.