A Phenomenal Night

On Wednesday night the portents of a much desired rainfall were all abroad. The lightnings forked and chained and flamed from oneend of heaven to the' other; the thunders crashed and rolled and rumbled all over the murky black heavens; timorous women and children cowered within doors in dread of the lowering storm and the careering electricity; Mars, notwithstanding his venturesome nearness to the earth, was compelled to hide his ruddy face behind the impenetrable blackness; the Great Bear retired precipitately to his boreal den; the Little Bear "wasn't in it;" Cassiopoeia, the beautiful, retired with graceful haste behind angry clouds; while the thirsty earth below yearned toward the surging sky for a refreshing deluge to cool its gaping aridity. Yet, notwithstanding all this promising storm-grandeur, but a few drops feil upon this drought-doomed city. Northfield, on the north of us, as usual monopolized what there was of it in that direction, and the townships to the south of us seemed to have the cinch on the balance. Ann Arbor seems to be a "dry" town, though we have no local opdon law in force.