It is those poets. And they are
supposed to be connoisseurs of this sort of thing); but in the weather
the disadvantages of the system are more apparent. A woman's tears do
not make one wet, but the rain does; and her coldness does not lay the
foundations of asthma and rheumatism, as the east wind is apt to. I
can prepare for and put up with a regularly bad day, but these
ha'porth-of-all-sorts kind of days do not suit me. It aggravates me
to see a bright blue sky above me when I am walking along wet through,
and there is something so exasperating about the way the sun comes out
smiling after a drenching shower, and seems to say: "Lord love you,
you don't mean to say you're wet? Well, I am surprised. Why, it was
only my fun."
They don't give you time to open or shut your umbrella in an English
April, especially if it is an "automaton" one--the umbrella, I mean,
not the April.
I bought an "automaton" once in April, and I did have a time with it!
I wanted an umbrella, and I went into a shop in the Strand and told
them so, and they said:
"Yes, sir. What sort of an umbrella would you like?"
I said I should like one that would keep the rain off, and that would
not allow itself to be left behind in a railway carriage.
"Try an 'automaton,'" said the shopman.
"What's an 'automaton'?" said I.
"Oh, it's a beautiful arrangement," replied the man, with a touch of
enthusiasm. "It opens and shuts itself.
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