CHAPTER XXXI 



VOICES OF THE DUSK 



JOLLY, round, red Mr. Sun was just going to bed 

 behind the Purple Hills and the Black Shadows 

 had begun to creep all through the Green Forest and 

 out across the Green Meadows. It was the hour 

 of the day Peter Rabbit loves best. He sat on the 

 edge of the Green Forest watching for the first 

 little star to twinkle high up in the sky. Peter felt 

 at peace with all the Great World, for it was the 

 hour of peace, the hour of rest for those who had 

 been busy all through the shining day. 



Most of Peter's feathered friends had settled 

 themselves for the coming night, the worries and 

 cares of the day over and forgotten. All the Great 

 World seemed hushed. In the distance Sweet- 

 voice the Vesper Sparrow was pouring out his 

 evening song, for it was the hour when he dearly 

 loves to sing. Far back in the Green Forest Whip- 

 poor-will was calling as if his very life depended on 

 the number of times he could say, "Whip poor 

 Will," without taking a breath. From overhead 

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