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Primary Handwork is a comprehensive instructional guide designed to introduce young learners to the world of creative manual activities. Authored by Ella Victoria Dobbs, this book serves as a foundational resource for teachers and parents seeking to cultivate practical skills, dexterity, and artistic expression in children. The text is thoughtfully organized, beginning with simple exercises and gradually progressing to more complex projects, ensuring that each activity builds upon the last to reinforce learning and confidence. The book covers a wide array of handwork techniques, including paper folding, cutting, weaving, modeling with clay, cardboard construction, and simple sewing. Each chapter provides clear, step-by-step instructions accompanied by illustrations, making it easy for both instructors and students to follow along. The projects are carefully selected to be age-appropriate, engaging, and educational, fostering not only fine motor skills but also problem-solving abilities and creativity. Primary Handwork emphasizes the importance of using readily available and inexpensive materials, making the activities accessible to all. The author also discusses the educational value of handwork, highlighting its role in developing concentration, patience, and a sense of accomplishment in young learners. Throughout the book, Dobbs integrates suggestions for adapting projects to suit different skill levels and classroom settings, ensuring flexibility and inclusivity. Ideal for use in primary schools, homeschooling environments, or as a supplement to traditional curricula, Primary Handwork remains a timeless resource for nurturing the practical and artistic talents of children. Its blend of instructional clarity, educational philosophy, and creative inspiration makes it an essential addition to any early childhood education library.
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Transcribed from the 1846 Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge edition by David Price, email [email protected]
or, An Accountof THE NATURE, PROPERTIES, DANGERS, AND USES OF RAIN,
in various parts of the world.
published under the direction ofthe committee of general literature and educationappointed by the society for promotingchristian knowledge.
LONDON: Printed for thesociety for promoting christian knowledge.sold at the depository,great queen street, lincoln’s inn fields,and 4, royal exchange.
1846.
london:r. clay, printer, bread street hill.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. p. 10.
rains peculiar to each season—spring showers—midsummer rains—rains of autumn and winter—means of supplying the earth with rain—rain clouds—deceptive appearances of clouds—their light and shade—effects of clouds in mountainous countries—ascent of monte pientio—ascent to the peak of teneriffe—grand effects of clouds in the pyrenees—voyage in a balloon through the clouds.
CHAPTER II. p. 37.
effects of rain in mountainous districts—the district of moray—the great floods of 1829—commencement of the rain—the swollen rivers—disastrous effects of the flood—means adopted for the rescue of cottagers—kerr and his brave deliverers—rescue of funns and his family—floods of the rhone in 1840—overflowing of the mississippi.
CHAPTER III. p. 74.
various forms of clouds—the cirrus, or curl-cloud—the cumulus, or stacken-cloud—the stratus, or fall-cloud—the cirro-cumulus, or sonder-cloud—the cirro-stratus, or wane-cloud—the cumulo-stratus, or twain-cloud—the nimbus, or rain-cloud—arrangement of rain-clouds—appearances of a distant shower—scud—cause of rain—formation of clouds—mists—heights of clouds—appearance of the sky above the clouds.
CHAPTER IV. p. 107.
on hail—the hail-storms of france—the disastrous effects of hail—the hail-storms of south america—their surprising effects—origin and nature of hail—periodical falls of hail—hail clouds—hailstones—their various forms—extraordinary size of hailstones.
CHAPTER V. p. 117.
method of measuring the quantity of rain that falls—the rain gauge—methods of observing for rain and snow—effects of elevation on the quantity of rain—difference between the top of a tall building and the summit of a mountain—size of drops of rain—velocity of their fall—quantity of rain in different latitudes—extraordinary falls of rain—remarks on the rain of this country—influence of the moon—absence of rain—remarkable drought in south america—its terrible effects and consequences—artificial rains.
CHAPTER VI. p. 137.
the rainbow—decomposition of white light by the prism—formation of primary and secondary bows—rainbows in mountain regions—the rainbow a sacred emblem—lunar rainbow—light decomposed by clouds—their beautiful colours—examples.
CHAPTER VII. p. 157.
remarkable showers—showers of sand—of mud—showers of sulphur, or yellow rain—luminous rain—red rain, or showers of blood—superstitions connected therewith—explanation of the cause—showers of fish—showers of rats—showers of frogs—insect shower—showers of vegetable substances—manna—wheat—showers of stones—meteoric stones, or aerolites—meteoric iron—suppositions respecting them—fossil rain.
CHAPTER VIII. p. 191.
common sayings respecting the weather—saint swithin’s-day—signs of rain or of fair weather derived from the appearance of the sun—from that of the moon—from the stars—from the sky—from the distinctness of sounds—from the rising of smoke—from the peculiar actions of plants and animals—prognostics noticed by sir humphrey davy—signs of rain collected by dr. jenner—north american rain-makers—incident related by catlin—rain-doctors of southern africa—rain-doctors of ceylon—superstitions giving way to the teaching of missionaries—conclusion.
rains peculiar to each season—spring showers—midsummer rains—rains of autumn and winter—means of supplying the earth with rain—rain-clouds—deceptive appearances of clouds—their light and shade—effects of clouds in mountainous countries—ascent of monte pientio—ascent to the peak of teneriffe—grand effects of clouds in the pyrenees—voyage in a balloon through the clouds.
Every season has its own peculiar rains. What can be more refreshing or invigorating than the showers of spring? When the snows of February have disappeared, and the blustering winds of March have performed their office of drying up the excess of moisture, and preparing the earth for fruitfulness, and when the young buds and blossoms of April are peeping forth beneath the influence of the sun, and the trees and hedges are attired in their new robes of tender green, how soon would all this beauty languish but for the showers of spring! Several dry days, perhaps, have passed, and the wreaths of dust which are raised by the wind show that the earth wants moisture; but before a drop falls there is a general lull throughout all nature; not a leaf is heard to rustle; the birds are mute and the cattle stand in expectation of the refreshing fall. At last the pools and rivulets are “dimpled” by a few soft drops, the forerunners of the general shower. And this shower, unlike the heavier rains of summer, comes stealing on so gently, that the tinkling sound of its fall is heard among the branches of the bursting trees long before it is felt by those who walk beneath their slight shelter. Rapidly does the landscape brighten under the influence of the welcome shower; and as it becomes more rich and extensive, all nature seems to rise up and rejoice. The birds chirp merrily among the foliage; the flowers raise their drooping heads, and the thirsty ground drinks in with eager haste the mellowing rains. All day long, perhaps, does the rain continue to fall, until the earth is fully moistened and “enriched with vegetable life.” At length, towards evening, the sun peeps out from among the broken clouds, and lights up, by his sudden radiance, the lovely scene. Myriads of rain-drops sparkle like gems beneath his beams; a soft mist that seems to mingle earth and sky gradually rolls away, and “moist, and bright, and green, the landscape laughs around.” Now pours forth the evening concert from the woods, while warbling brooks, and lowing herds, appear to answer to the sound. Such are some of the delightful effects of spring-showers.
In summer, when the heat has been very great, the rain is often ushered in by a thunder-storm, and falls in torrents, which at an earlier season would do harm to the young buds and blossoms of spring; but now the vegetation is strong enough to resist the floods so necessary to maintain moisture in the parched earth. But when the summer has been moderately warm some gentle rains generally fall about midsummer, which, from the frequency of their occurrence about this time, have obtained the name of “Midsummer rains.” These rains are popularly associated with St. Swithin’s Day, as will be noticed in another chapter; but when they fall early, mildly, and in moderate quantity, they operate to a certain extent as a second spring. “Many of the birds come into song and have second broods; and it is probable that there is a fresh production of caterpillars for their food, or, at all events, a larger production of the late ones than when the rains are more violent and protracted. Many of the herbaceous plants also bloom anew, and the autumn is long and pleasant, and has very many of the charms of a summer, though without any very powerful operation on the productions of nature, further than a very excellent preparation for the coming year, whether in buds, in roots, or in the labours of man. Such a season is also one of plenty, or at all events of excellent quality in all the productions of the soil. The wild animals partake in the general abundance, as that food which is left for them in the fields, after man has gathered in his share, is both more abundant and more nourishing. When there is much moisture from the protracted time and great quantity of the rains, many of those seeds germinate, while in mild seasons they are left as food for the wild animals, chiefly the field-mice and the birds, which again form part of the food of the predatory ones.”
There is something melancholy and depressing in the rains of autumn and winter, for they bear away the last traces of summer by stripping the trees of the many-coloured leaves, which in mild seasons will continue to adorn the landscape even late in November. The rains of this month, and their effects, have been skilfully sketched by an accurate observer of nature. He says:—
“Now cold rains come deluging down, till the drenched ground, the dripping trees, the pouring eaves, and the torn, ragged-skirted clouds, seemingly dragged downward slantwise by the threads of dusky rain that descend from them, are all mingled together in one blind confusion; while the few cattle that are left in open pastures, forgetful of their till now interminable business of feeding, turn their backs upon the besieging storm, and, hanging down their heads till their noses almost touch the ground, stand out in the middle of the fields motionless, like dead images.
“Now, too, a single rain-storm, like the above, breaks up all the paths and ways at once, and makes home no longer ‘home’ to those who are not obliged to leave it; while it becomes doubly endeared to those who are. What sight, for instance, is so pleasant to the wearied woodman, who has been out all day long in the drenching rains of this month, as his own distant cottage window seen through the thickening dusk, lighted up by the blazing fagot that is to greet his sure return at the accustomed minute?”
While we watch the effects of the various rains, and their beneficial influence on the earth, there is also much to excite our gratitude and admiration; for among the many beautiful contrivances in creation, none is more remarkable than the means by which the earth is watered and refreshed by rain. The oceans, seas, lakes, and other waters of the earth supply the air with moisture, which, rendered elastic and invisible by the heat of the sun and of the earth, rises to various heights in the atmosphere, where it forms clouds in all their wonderful beauty and variety. These are borne by the winds to places far inland, to which water in sufficient quantity could not come by any other means, and where moisture is most required; and here the water is poured down, not in cataracts and water-spouts, but in the form of drops of various sizes. If the rain-clouds threw down, at once and suddenly, all the water contained in them, not only would vegetation be destroyed by the force of the fall, but we should be constantly liable to floods and other inconveniences. Clouds also serve to screen the earth from the fierce heat of the sun by day; and, by night, they serve to maintain the heat which would otherwise escape by radiation, and produce great cold even in summer. Clouds thus have great influence in regulating the extremes of heat and cold, and in forming what is called the “climate” of a country. Clouds also supply the hidden stores of fountains and the fresh water of rivers; and, as a pious old divine well remarks, “So abundant is this great blessing, which the most indulgent Creator hath afforded us by means of this distribution of the waters I am speaking of, that there is more than a scanty, bare provision, a mere sufficiency; even a plenty, a surplusage of this useful creature of God, the fresh waters afforded to the world; and they so well ordered, as not to drown the nations of the earth, nor to stagnate, stink, and poison, or annoy them; but to be gently carried through convenient channels back again to their grand fountain the sea; and many of them through such large tracts of land and to such prodigious distances, that it is a great wonder the fountains should be high enough, or the seas low enough, ever to afford so long a conveyance.” [18]
If rain is not at all seasons pleasant and delightful, neither are rain-clouds among the most beautiful which diversify the landscape of the sky; for it has been well remarked, that “all the fine-weather clouds are beautiful, and those connected with rain and wind mostly the reverse.” What, indeed, can be more striking than the aërial landscapes of fine weather, in which, by an easy fancy, we can trace trees and towers, magnificent ruins and glaciers, natural bridges and palaces, all dashed with torrents of light or frowning in shadow, glowing like burnished silver, glittering in a golden light, or melting into the most enchanting hues? But with all this beauty the eye is seldom capable of judging correctly of the proper size and forms and motions of clouds. The same cloud which to one observer may be glowing with light, to another may be enveloped in shadow. That which appears to be its summit may be only a portion of its outer edge, while that which seems to be its lower bed may really be a portion of its further border. A spectator, on the summit of a tall cliff, may observe what he takes to be a single cloud; while a second spectator, on lower ground, will perceive that there are two clouds. The motions of clouds are so deceptive, that they often seem to be moving in a curve over the great concave of heaven, while they are in fact advancing in nearly a right line. Suppose, for example that a cloud is moving from the distant horizon towards the place where we stand, in a uniform horizontal line without changing either in size or form. Such a cloud, when first seen, will appear to be in contact with the distant horizon, and consequently much nearer to us than it really is. As it advances towards us, it will seem to rise into the sky, and to become gradually larger till it is almost directly overhead. Continuing its progress, it will then seem again to descend and to lessen in size as gradually as it had before increased; till at length it disappears in the distant horizon at a point exactly opposite to that at which it was first seen. Thus the same cloud, without varying its motion in the least from a straight line, and remaining throughout of the same size and form, would seem to be continually varying in magnitude; and the line of its motion, instead of being straight, would appear to be curved. This is one of the most simple cases that can be supposed: but the clouds as they exist in nature do not remain of the same magnitude, but are constantly changing in form, in size, in direction, and in velocity; so that it is quite impossible to form an accurate idea of their shape and size, or to explain their motions. Clouds, at different elevations, may often be seen to move in different directions under the influence of different currents of wind.
The distribution of light and shade in clouds is most striking. The watery particles of which they are composed, yielding constantly to changes in temperature and moisture, are always changing; so that a most beautiful cloud may alter in figure and appearance in an instant of time; the light parts may suddenly become dark, and those that were shaded may all at once glow in the rays of the sun. Again, the appearance of a cloud, with respect to the sun, may entirely alter its character. The same cloud, to one observer, may appear entirely in shade, to another tipped with silver; to a third it may present brilliant points and various degrees of shade, or one of its edges only may appear illuminated; sometimes the middle parts may appear in shadow, while the margin may be partially luminous, rendering the middle parts all the more obscure by the contrast.
A wonderful variety may also be produced by the shadow of one cloud falling upon another. The accompanying sketch furnishes an example of this. Sometimes the whole of a cloud projects a shadow through the air upon some other far distant cloud, and this again upon another, until at length it reaches the ground. The shadows of moving clouds may often be traced upon the ground, and they contribute greatly to modify the appearance of the landscape. A large number of small flickering clouds produce broken lights and shades which have an unpleasant jarring effect; but when the clouds are massive, or properly distributed, the shadows often produce a high degree of repose.
Clouds are often seen to advantage in mountainous countries. Here the aspect of the heavens may be entirely different at different elevations. A single cloud in the valley may conceal the whole of the upper sky from an observer; but as he ascends he may gradually get above this and other layers or bands of cloud, and see a beautifully variegated sky above him, while the clouds which conceal the valley may be rolling at his feet. Evelyn, in his Memoirs, notices a scene of this kind. He says,—“Next morning we rode by Monte Pientio, or, as vulgarly called, Monte Mantumiato, which is of an excessive height, ever and anon peeping above airy clouds with its snowy head, till we had climbed to the inn at Radicofany, built by Ferdinand the greate Duke for the necessary refreshment of travellers in so inhospitable a place. As we ascended we entered a very thick, solid, and dark body of cloudes, which looked like rocks at a little distance, which lasted neare a mile in going up; they were dry, misty vapours, hanging undissolved for a vast thicknesse, and obscuring both sun and earth, so that we seemed to be in the sea rather than in the cloudes, till, having pierced through it, we came into a most serene heaven, as if we had been above all human conversation, the mountain appearing more like a great island than joyn’d to any other hills, for we could perceive nothing but a sea of very thick cloudes rowling under our feete like huge waves, every now and then suffering the top of some other mountain to peepe through, which we could discover many miles off: and betweene some breaches of the cloudes we could see landskips and villages of the subjacent country. This was one of the most pleasant, newe, and altogether surprising objects that I had ever beheld.”
In the following interesting account of the ascent of the Peak of Teneriffe by Captain Basil Hall, it will be seen that heavy rain clouds may skirt the mountain, while its summit is in a pure and dry air.
“On the 24th of August,” he says, “we left Oratava to ascend the Peak. The day was the worst possible for our purpose, as it rained hard; and was so very foggy that we could not see the Peak, or indeed any object beyond one hundred yards distant.
“After riding slowly up a rugged path for four hours, it became extremely cold, and, as the rain never ceased for an instant, we were by this time drenched to the skin, and looked with no very agreeable feelings to the prospect of passing the night in wet clothes. At length the night began to close in, and the guides talked of the improbability of reaching the English station before night. It was still raining hard; but we dismounted, and took our dinner as cheerfully as possible, and hoping for clearer weather the next day. On remounting, we soon discovered that the road was no longer so steep as it had been heretofore, and the surface was comparatively smooth: we discovered, in short, that we had reached a sort of table-land, along which we rode with ease. Presently we thought the fog less dense, and the drops of rain not so large, and the air less chilling. In about half an hour we got an occasional glimpse of the blue sky; and as we ascended, (for our road, though comparatively level, was still upon the rise,) these symptoms became more manifest. The moon was at the full, and her light now became distinct, and we could see the stars in the zenith. By this time we had reached the Llano de los Remenos, or Retamos Plain, which is many thousand feet above the sea; and we could distinctly see that during the day we had merely been in a cloud, above which having now ascended, the upper surface lay beneath us like a country covered with snow. It was evident, on looking round, that no rain had fallen on the pumice gravel over which we were travelling. The mules were much fatigued, and we got off to walk. In a few minutes our stockings and shoes were completely dried, and in less than half an hour all our clothes were thoroughly dried. The air was sharp and clear, like that of a cold frosty morning in England; and though the extreme dryness, and the consequent rapid evaporation, caused considerable cold, we were enabled by quick exercise to keep ourselves comfortable. I had various instruments with me, but no regular hygrometer: accident, however, furnished me with one sufficiently indicative of the dry state of the air. My gloves, which I kept on while mounted, were completely soaked with the rain; and I took them off during this walk, and, without considering what was likely to happen, rolled them up, and carried them in my hand. When, at the end of an hour, or somewhat less, we came to remount our mules, I found the gloves as thoroughly dried and shrivelled up as if they had been placed in an oven. During all the time we were at the Peak itself, on the 26th, the sky was clear, the air quite dry, and we could distinguish, several thousand feet below us, the upper and level surface of the stratum of clouds through which we had passed the day before, and into which we again entered on going down, and found precisely in the same state as when we started.”
It is not uncommon to observe an effect quite contrary to the one given in the last two examples, the high summits of mountains being frequently concealed by heavy clouds of mist, while at a very short distance below them the air is clear and pure. In ascending to the Port of Venasque, one of the mountain passes of the Pyrenees, Mr. Murray found the mists so dense that he despaired of getting above them, or of their clearing away. But fortunately the wind freshened, and the mist, broken by it, “came sweeping,” he says, “over our heads, sometimes enveloping us in darkness, sometimes exposing the blue sky, and a part of the mountains. Section after section of the bald and towering masses which rose above the path were displayed to us, one after another, as if the whole had been a sight too great for us to look upon. Sometimes the clouds opened, and the snows, sparkling in the sun-beams, were before us; at others, an enormous peak of the mountain would shoot its dark head through the mist, and, without visible support, seem as if it were about to fall upon us. Again, when we imagined ourselves hemmed in on all sides by the mountains, and within a few feet of their rugged sides, a passing breeze would disclose the dark waters of the lakes hundreds of feet beneath us.
