HOW THE RAIN CAME 



On such nights speak low if you do not 

 wish the whole world to hear, for the 

 air all about you is a wireless telephone 

 receiver tuned to your pitch. Those 

 gray rain curtains which the dusk has 

 hung all about the horizon have made 

 the whole world a whispering gallery. 



Sometime in the night the wind dies. 

 It passes away so peacefully that no 

 mirror held to its lips would note that 

 last sigh. But the stars have known it 

 all the evening, and that is why their 

 eyes blinked so. It was to keep back 

 the tears. Then the stars vanish and the 

 night is dark indeed. 



Scents carry far on such a night, not 

 only those of the pasture world, which 

 are pleasant, but those of the more dis- 

 tant town, which sometimes are not. 

 The air is not only telephonic but tele- 

 fumic. The distant leather factory sends 

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