40 
WINDS OF HEAVEN. 
THE window rattled, the gate swung; a leaf rose, and 
the’kitten chased it, ‘whoo-oo ’—the faintest sound in the 
keyhole. I looked up, and saw the feathers on a spar- 
row’s breast ruffled for an instant. It was quiet for some 
time ; after a while it came again with heavier purpose. 
The folded shutters shook ; the latch of the kitchen door 
rattled as if some one were lifting it and dropped it ; in- 
definite noises came from upstairs :' there was a hand in 
the house moving everything. Another pause. The 
kitten was curled up on the window-ledge outside in the 
sunshine, just as the sleek cats curled up in the warmth 
at Thebes of old Egypt five or six thousand years ago; 
the sparrow was happy at the rose tree; a bee was 
happy on a broad dandelion disc. ‘Soo-hoo !’—a low 
whistle came through the chink ; a handful of rain was 
flung at the window; a great shadow rushed up the 
valley and strode the house in an instant as you would 
get over a stile. I put down my book and buttoned my 
coat. Soo-hoo! the wind was here and the cloud—soo- 
hoo! drawing out longer and more plaintive in the thin 
mouthpiece of the chink. The cloud had no more rain 
in it, butit shut out the sun; and all that afternoon and 
all that night the low plaint of the wind continued in 
sorrowful hopelessness, and little sounds ran about the 
floors and round the rooms. 
Still soo-hoo all the next day and sunlessness, turn- 
