OUTDOORS 



fling the amber waters of the silent pools. 

 Soft winds these sometimes were, hardly dar- 

 ing to breathe lest the sound might disturb 

 the lone bird poised in his quaint desolation, 

 a living scarecrow of the wilderness. And 

 then there were also the rude winds, rushing 

 by with their wake of trailing black clouds, 

 and roaring through narrow lanes where the 

 furrows of their comrades had been ploughed 

 to make them an exit, and then away to the 

 north, bending the trees beyond and dying 

 behind the hills. 



These ruffling gusts annoyed the melan- 

 choly fowl. At the sound of the high winds 

 he would shake his feathers with a gesture of 

 disapproval, curve his snaky neck down, and 

 stand stolidly waiting for the storm to break. 

 And when the rain came in slanting gusts 

 and darkness fell, and all the sky was blotted 

 out, as with a giant hand, how dismal it was 

 for him there in the wastes! How different 

 from the luxury enjoyed by the canary in a 

 lady's boudoir ! And when the storm passed, 

 and the sun shone again, it was a distressing- 

 looking object that it beamed upon in the 

 shape of the melancholy crane. 

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