“‘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 mountain stream beckoned me on.  Swiftly I flew along its banks, turning the windmills met on the way, and swelling out the sails of the boats until the sailors sang for joy.  On and on we journeyed; my mountain friend, joined by a hundred meadow-brooks, grew deeper and wider as it flowed along, and its breath began to have a queer, salty odor.  One day I heard a throbbing music far off that sounded like the undertone in the Pine Trees’ melody; then very soon we reached this great body of water, and, looking across, could see no sign of land anywhere; but still we journeyed on.  I feared at first that my friend was lost to me, but often she laughed from the crest of the wave, or glistened in a white cap, cheering my way to this sunny shore; and now, at last, we are here, laden with treasure for each one of you.  Take it, and be glad!”

But the children did not understand the song of the Sea Breeze, nor did they know what made its breath so wonderfully sweet.  But all day long they breathed in its fragrance, and gathered up the treasures brought to their feet by the tiny spring born up in the clouds.