BIRDS IN THE RAIN 



f*~ ~"^HERE are occasions when one is tempted 



to wish that one were a bird, for the fowls 



of the air are spared many of the troubles 



which we poor terrestrial creatures have 



to endure. 



Most of us in India have received a telegram ordering 

 us off to some far-away station ; then, when distracted 

 by the worry and bustle of packing ; when the hideous 

 noises of the Indian railway station "get on the 

 nerves " ; as we sit in the dusty, jolting train, we begin 

 to envy the birds who are able to annihilate distance, 

 who have no boxes to pack up, no baggage to go astray, 

 no bills to pay, no chits to write, no cards to leave, no 

 time-table to worry through, no trains to lose, no 

 connections to miss, but have simply to take to their 

 wings and away. 



Most of us, again, have been caught in the rain. 

 As the watery contents of the clouds slowly but surely 

 percolated through our clothes, as our boots grew heavier 

 and heavier until the water oozed out at every step, we 

 must have envied the birds. They know naught of 

 rheumatism or ague. Their clothes do not spoil in the 

 rain. They wear no boots to become waterlogged. 

 Their wings rarely become heavy or sodden. For them 



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