ButthatistheamusingpartoftheyearTherearesixothermonthswhennoneevercometocall，andthethermometerwalksinchbyinchuptothetopoftheglass，andtheofficeisdarkenedtojustabovereading-light，andthepress-machinesarered-hottotouch，andnobodywritesanythingbutaccountsofamusementsintheHill-stationsorobituarynoticesThenthetelephonebecomesatinklingterror，becauseittellsyouofthesuddendeathsofmenandwomenthatyouknewintimately，andthepricklyheatcoversyouwithagarment，andyousitdownandwrite：“AslightincreaseofsicknessisreportedfromtheKhudaJantaKhanDistrictTheoutbreakispurelysporadicinitsnature，and，thankstotheenergeticeffortsoftheDistrictauthorities，isnowalmostatanendItis，however，withdeepregretwerecordthedeath。”etc。
Thenthesicknessreallybreaksout，andthelessrecordingandreportingthebetterforthepeaceofthesubscribersButtheEmpiresandtheKingscontinuetodivertthemselvesasselfishlyasbefore，andtheForemanthinksthatadailypaperreallyoughttocomeoutonceintwenty-fourhours，andallthepeopleattheHill-
stationsinthemiddleoftheiramusementssay，“Goodgracious！
whycan’tthepaperbesparkling？I’msurethere’splentygoingonuphere。”
Thatisthedarkhalfofthemoon，and，astheadvertisementssay，“mustbeexperiencedtobeappreciated。”
Itwasinthatseason，andaremarkablyevilseason，thatthepaperbeganrunningthelastissueoftheweekonSaturdaynight，whichistosaySundaymorning，afterthecustomofaLondonpaperThiswasagreatconvenience，forimmediatelyafterthepaperwasputtobedthedawnwouldlowerthethermometerfrom96degreestoalmost84degreesforhalfanhour，andinthatchill——youhavenoideahowcoldis84degreesonthegrassuntilyoubegintoprayforit——averytiredmancouldgetofftosleeperetheheatrousedhim。
OneSaturdaynightitwasmypleasantdutytoputthepapertobedaloneAKingorcourtieroracourtesanoraCommunitywasgoingtodieorgetanewConstitution，ordosomethingthatwasimportantontheothersideoftheworld，andthepaperwastobeheldopentillthelatestpossibleminuteinordertocatchthetelegram。
Itwasapitchy-blacknight，asstiflingasaJunenightcanbe，andtheloo，thered-hotwindfromthewestward，wasboomingamongthetinder-drytreesandpretendingthattherainwasonitsheels。
Nowandagainaspotofalmostboilingwaterwouldfallonthedustwiththeflopofafrog，butallourwearyworldknewthatwasonlypretenceItwasashadecoolerinthepress-roomthantheoffice，soIsatthere，whilethetypetickedandclicked，andthenight-jarshootedatthewindows，andtheallbutnakedcompositorswipedthesweatfromtheirforeheadsandcalledforwaterThethingthatwaskeepingusback，whateveritwas，wouldnotcomeoff，thoughtheloodroppedandthelasttypewasset，andthewholeroundearthstoodstillinthechokingheat，withitsfingeronitslip，towaittheeventIdrowsed，andwonderedwhetherthetelegraphwasablessing，andwhetherthisdyingman，orstrugglingpeople，mightbeawareoftheinconveniencethedelaywascausingTherewasnospecialreasonbeyondtheheatandworrytomaketension，but，astheclock-handscreptuptothreeo-clockandthemachinesspuntheirfly-wheelstwoandthreetimestoseethatallwasinorder，beforeIsaidthewordthatwouldsetthemoff，Icouldhaveshriekedaloud。
ThentheroarandrattleofthewheelsshiveredthequietintolittlebitsIrosetogoaway，buttwomeninwhiteclothesstoodinfrontofmeThefirstonesaid，“It’shim！”Thesecondsaid，“Soitis！”
Andtheybothlaughedalmostasloudlyasthemachineryroared，andmoppedtheirforeheads“Weseedtherewasalightburningacrosstheroad，andweweresleepinginthatditchthereforcoolness，andIsaidtomyfriendhere，’TheofficeisopenLet’scomealo...完整阅读请扫描二维码下载丁香书院APP免费看：