A Pneumatic Calendar 



ture's utter contentment and peace. They 

 bring me news of God's love for his world 

 and his ever-reminding presence in it. 



July and August are almost windless 

 months. You must listen closely for your 

 pneumatic news-bringer then, save when 

 storm-breeding heats goad him to fury. He 

 has little news now, save to whisper across 

 your open casement that all is well with 

 the fruit-bearing earth. Yet is not the whis 

 per of the midsummer wind as distinct a 

 voice, to those who hear it, as any in the 

 pneumatic calendar? It surely is to me. I 

 could never mistake its sound, and certainly 

 not its touch. That evanescent whisper, 

 that warm, soft touch upon the cheek who 

 could mistake them for any other wind's 

 that blows ? 



The September wind is bland and yet 

 firm. There is a return of masculinity in 

 its tone. If it were not for this quality, 

 one might mistake the sound of it for that 

 of the May- June wind. It rustles the leaves 

 a little more roughly ; it strikes, in its occa 

 sionally boisterous moods, a more ringing 

 note out of the house-timbers. Sometimes 

 there is a faint wail in it, as if of half- 



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