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Rh must not tell all one knows; that you know very well, old mammy.” And so saying, he kissed his mother to such a degree that she nearly tumbled down. He was a wild fellow, that West Wind!

Now came in the South Wind; he had a turban on his head and a flying Bedouin mantle.

“It’s cold enough here,” said he, throwing wood upon the fire; “one can very well feel that the North Wind was here before me.”

“It’s so hot here that one might roast a polar bear,” said the North Wind.

“You are a polar bear yourself,” said the South Wind.

“Do you want to be put in the sack?” asked the old woman. “Sit down there on the stone, and tell where you have been, and what you have done.”

“In Africa, mother,” answered he. “I have been lion-hunting with the Hottentots in the land of the Caffres. What fine grass grows there in the plains, as green as the olive! There frisked the gnu, and the