<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></SPAN>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
<p class="title">A WINTER FOREGLOW</p>
<p>Little attention has been paid to foreglows compared with afterglows,
either with regard to their natural beauty or their weather forecasting.
But either the ordinary red-cloud surroundings at sunrise, or the western
foreglow at rarer intervals, betokens to the weather-prophet wet and
gloomy weather. The farmer and the sailor do not like the sight, they
depend so much on favourable weather conditions.</p>
<p>Of course, sunrise to the æsthetic observer has always its charms. The
powerful king of day rejoices “as a bridegroom coming out of his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></SPAN></span> chamber”
as he steps upon the earth over the dewy mountain tops, bathing all in
light, and spreading gladness and deep joy before him. The lessening
cloud, the kindling azure, and the mountain’s brow illumined with golden
streaks, mark his approach; he is encompassed with bright beams, as he
throws his unutterable love upon the clouds, “the beauteous robes of
heaven.” Aslant the dew-bright earth and coloured air he looks in
boundless majesty abroad, touching the green leaves all a-tremble with
gold light.</p>
<p>But glorious, and educating, and inspiring as is the sunrise in itself in
many cases, there is occasionally something very remarkable that is
connected with it. Rare is it, but how charming when witnessed, though
till very recently it was all but unexplained. This is the <i>foreglow</i>.</p>
<p>It is in no respect so splendid as the afterglow succeeding sunset; but,
because of its comparative rarity, its beauty is enhanced. I remember a
foreglow most vividly which was seen at my manse, in Strathmore, in
January 1893. My bedroom window looked due west; I slept with the blind
up. On that morning I was struck, just after the darkness was fading away,
with a slight colouring all along the western horizon. The skeleton
branches of the trees stood out strongly against it. The colouring
gradually increased, and the roseate hue stretched higher. The old
well-known faces that I used to conjure up out of the thin blended boughs
became more life-like, as the cheeks flushed. There was rare warmth on a
winter morning to cheer a half-despairing soul, tired out with the long
hours of oil<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></SPAN></span> reading, and pierced to the heart by the never-ceasing
rimes; yet I could not understand it.</p>
<p>I went to the room opposite to watch the sunrise, for I had observed in
the diary that the appearance of the sun would not be for a few minutes.
There were streaks of light in the east above the horizon, but no colour
was visible. That hectic flush—slight, yet well marked—which was
deepening in the western heavens, had no counterpart in the east, except
the colourless light which marked the wintry sun’s near approach. As soon
as the sun’s rays shot up into the eastern clouds, and his orb appeared
above the horizon, the western sky paled, the colour left it, as if
ashamed of its assumed glory. A foreglow like that I have very rarely
seen, and its existence was a puzzle to me till I studied Dr. Aitken’s
explanation of the afterglows after sunset. I had never come across any
description of a foreglow; and, of course, across no explanation of the
curious phenomenon. The western heavens were coloured with fairly bright
roseate hues, while the eastern horizon was only silvery bright before the
sun rose; whereas, after the sun appeared and coloured the eastern hills
and clouds, the western sky resumed its leaden grey and colourless
appearance. Why was that? What is the explanation?</p>
<p>I have not space enough to repeat the explanation given already in the
last chapter of the glorious phenomenon of the afterglow. But the
explanation is similar. Before sunrise, the rays of the sun are reflected
by dust-particles in the zenith to the western clouds. The colouring is
intensified by the frozen water-vapour on these particles in the west.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></SPAN></span>One thing I carefully noted. Ere mid-day, snow began to fall, and for some
days a severe snow-storm kept us indoors. Then, at any rate, the foreglow
betokened a coming storm. It was, like a rainbow in a summer morning, a
decided warning of the approaching wet weather.</p>
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