Last night, the furious wind and the sound of splattering water against the window woke me up. I glanced at the street _the street laid forsaken, wearing the magical gown of timeless mystery, under the dimly-red light of the lamppost. Right ahead, the black tree had its naked fingers shaken merciless _a blacken stain swarming abrupt and rashly in a field of rain. If the sky were then to be torn entirely and the yellow light of the stars to strike my forehead, I could have believed it. In fact, my eyes were open to see and my ears, ready to listen to. I wished somebody, someone would have said it right there... The something you are always yearning to hear... .
I know not whether the wind blowing savagely was from the East. I guess it could. I'd like it so! The East Wind brought to London the mighty figure of Mary Poppins, after the surmise of van Dyke. How exciting! East winds. East winds for the Modern Western man!
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