CHAPTER VII.
MIDSUMMER EVE.
IN the minds of most of us, midsummer is associated with dry, dusty roads, parched vegetation, the shrill cry of the locust,[A] the shriller notes of the mosquitoes, and the hum of myriads of other insects; but, girls, midsummer does not come at this time: astronomy fixes the date at June 21st, the longest day of the year, when the leaves are still glossy green with the fresh sap circulating through their veins, giving them that healthy, juicy look so refreshing to the eye, and the heat of the sun has not yet dried to a white powder the firm country roads over which we delight to wander.
Ages ago the Pagans used to celebrate the day with rejoicing, because old Sol’s bright face had broken loose from the clouds of winter, and the rain and mists of spring. They symbolized the revolution of the season by rolling great wooden wheels down the hill-sides; sometimes attaching straw to the outer circle and setting fire to it at night, making a miniature midnight sun as it dashed down the steep incline.