AN EVENING SILHOUETTE 



THREE days after robin dropped his 

 grip and said he was at his journey's 

 end, a thunderstorm broke at inter- 

 vals all day along the hillside. Just 

 at sunset the clouds cleared enough 

 to tell me where west was. There is 

 a light that comes upon the rain- 

 drenched landscape at sunset which 

 is quite different than that of any 

 other hour of all days. It is different 

 because it changes every object, and 

 gives even the ugliest some claim to 

 attractiveness. The last light of day 

 is tinted. White light is a revealer 

 tinted light is a concealer. If one 

 could stay in a tinted light always he 

 would be passably respectable. The 



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