Don’t ever take a fence down until you know the reason it was put up.
Long ago on a lightless and stormy midnight; the downpour fell in torrents, except at occasional moments when it was checked by a tearing gust of wind which swept up the main street (for it is in Rancho Cordova that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely shingle the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.