patches of red gravel
and green moss and gray lichens beneath. Once I stopped to rest upon a
great rock, moss-covered, and with curling ferns at its base; from its
side flowed a crystal spring, so clear and cool that I caught up all I
could carry to refresh me on my journey; but it assured me I need not
take that trouble, for it was also on its way down the mountain side.

"'But you have no wings,' I said. 'Are you sure of that?' answered the
spring, and I thought she looked up in an odd way at some of my cloud
friends, who had followed in my track; then she added: 'And, even if you
are right, there is more than one way to reach the foot of the
mountain; I am sure you will find me there before you.'

"I could not but doubt this, for I am swifter than any bird of the air,
but she only laughed at me as I flew on, and once, looking back, I saw
she had started on her journey, and was creeping slowly along a tiny
thread of water, almost hidden in the grass. I next floated upon some
dark green trees, that sent out a spicy odor as I touched their boughs,
and when I moved they sang a low, tuneful melody; their song was of the
snowy mountain peak, the clouds, the bubbling spring, the sunshine and
the green grass; yes, and there was something else, a deep undertone
that I did not then understand, and the melody was a loom that wove them
all into a living harmony; some of my breezes are there still, listening
to the Pine Trees' song; but I hurried on, the grass grew green and
luscious along my way, and the sheep, with their baby lambs, were
pastured upon it; rills and brooks joined hands, and went racing faster
and faster down between the rocks; one of the brooks had grown quite
wide and deep, and as it leaped and sparkled and sang its way into the
valley, where it flowed into a wide, foaming stream, it looked back with
a gay laugh, and I saw in its depths the face of the little spring I had
left far up the mountain side.

"It was summer in the valley, and the air was scented with roses and
ripening fruits. It was very warm and sultry, and I fanned the
children's faces until they laughed and clapped their hands, crying out:
'It's the breeze from the mountain peak! How fresh and sweet and cool it
is.'

"I rocked the baby-birds to sleep in their leafy cradles. I entered the
houses, making the curtains flutter, and filling the rooms with my
mountain perfume. I longed to stay forever in that beautiful summer
land, but now the moun