the smell of the sea about him, and brings in the cold, fresh air as he enters.”
“Is that the little Zephyr?” asked the prince.
“Yes, it is the Zephyr,” said the old woman; “but he is not little now. In years gone by he was a beautiful boy; now that is all past.”
He came in, looking like a wild man, and he wore a slouched hat to protect his head from injury. In his hand he carried a club, cut from a mahogany tree in the American forests; not a trifle to carry.
“Whence do you come?” asked the mother.
“I come from the wilds of the forests, where the thorny brambles form thick hedges between the trees; where the water-snake lies in the wet grass, and mankind seems to be unknown.”
“What were you doing there?”
“I looked into the deep river, and saw it rushing down from the rocks. The water-drops mounted to the clouds and glittered in the rainbow. I saw the wild buffalo swimming in the river, but the strong tide carried him away amidst a flock of wild ducks, which flew into the air as the waters dashed onwards, leaving the buffalo to be hurled over the waterfall. This pleased me; so I raised a storm, which rooted up old trees, and sent them floating down the river.”
“And what else have you done?” asked the old woman.
“I have rushed wildly across the savannahs; I have stroked the wild horses, and shaken the cocoa-nuts from the trees. Yes, I have many stories to relate; but I need not tell everything I know. You know it all very well, don’t you, old lady?” And he kissed his mother so roughly, that she nearly fell backwards. Oh, he was, indeed a wild fellow.
Now in came the South Wind, with a turban and a flowing Bedouin cloak.
“How cold it is here!” said he, throwing more wood on the fire. “It is easy to feel that the North Wind has arrived here before me.”
“Why, it is hot enough here to roast a bear,” said the North Wind.
“Your are a bear yourself,” said the other.
“Do you want to be put in the sack, both of you?” said the old woman. “Sit down, now, on that stone yonder, and tell me where you have been?”
“In Africa, mother. I went out with the Hottentots, who were hunting in the Kaffir land, where the plains are covered with grass the colour of a green olive; and here I ran races with the ostrich, but I soon outstripped him in swiftness. At last I came to the desert, in which lie the golden sands, looking like the bottom of the sea. Here I met a caravan, and the travellers had just killed their last camel, to obtain water; there was very little for them, and they continued their painful journey beneath the burning sun, and over the hot sands, which stretched before them a vast, boundless desert. Then I rolled myself in the loose sand, and whirled it in burning columns over their heads. The dromedaries stood still in terror, while the merchants drew their caftans over their heads, and threw themselves on the ground before me, as they do before Allah, their god.
