A PNEUMATIC CALENDAR 



As I SIT indoors, this fiercely cold Decem 

 ber day, and listen to that peculiar moaning 

 and crying of a sharp midwinter wind, the 

 same mood comes over me that I have 

 known again and again, in the time of na 

 ture's testing and pleading a mood of sym 

 pathy and longing unspeakable, akin to 

 tears and I say to myself : "Ah ! the crying 

 of that winter wind. I should know what 

 season it is, if I were waking up, with eyes 

 still closed, from a century's sleep." 



Have you never noticed it how the 

 sound of the wind betrays the season, and 

 sometimes even the month, of the year? 

 You may sit in the same room from Jan 

 uary to December, with the air-currents 

 striking the same house-angles, flowing 

 through the same branches of near-by trees, 

 sweeping over the same fields or up the 

 same slope, and yet what different wind- 

 voices and wind-messages you will hear, as 

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