nd a lace
handkerchief when I think of him. And yet, most men wouldn't consider my
job so easy!"

The Harvester rapidly pitched the evil-smelling plants into big heaps
and as he worked he imitated the sounds around him as closely as he
could. The song sparrow laughed at him and flew away in disgust when he
tried its notes. The jay took time to consider, but was not fooled. The
nut-hatch ran head first down trees, larvae hunting, and was never a
mite deceived. But the killdeer on invisible legs, circling the lake
shore, replied instantly; so did the lark soaring above, and the dove of
the elm thicket close beside. The glittering black birds flashing over
every tree top answered the "T'check, t'chee!" of the Harvester quite as
readily as their mates.

The last time he paused to rest he had studied scents. When he
straightened again he was occupied with every voice of earth and air
around and above him, and the notes of singing hens, exultant cocks, the
scream of geese, the quack of ducks, the rasping crescendo of guineas
running wild in the woods, the imperial note of Ajax sunning on the
ridge pole and echoes from all of them on adjoining and distant farms.

"'Now I see the full meaning and beauty of that word sound!'" quoted
the Harvester. "'I thank God for sound. It always mounts and makes me
mount!'"

He breathed deeply and stood listening, a superb figure of a man, his
lean face glowing with emotion.

"If she could see and hear this, she would come," he said softly. "She
would come and she would love it as I do. Any one who understands,
and knows how to translate, cares for this above all else earth has to
offer. They who do not, fail to read as they run!"

He shifted feet mired in swamp muck, and stood as if loath to bend again
to his task. He lifted a weighted mattock and scraped the earth from
it, sniffing it delightedly the while. A soft south wind freighted with
aromatic odours swept his warm face. The Harvester removed his hat and
shook his head that the breeze might thread his thick hair.

"I've a commission for you, South Wind," he said whimsically. "Go find
my Dream Girl. Go carry her this message from me. Freight your breath
with spicy pollen, sun warmth, and flower nectar. Fill all her senses
with delight, and then, close to her ear, whisper it softly, 'Your lover
is coming!' Tell her that, O South Wind! Carry Araby to her nostrils,
Heaven to her ears, and then whisper and whisper it over and over u