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beautiful if told of the wind, but with absolutely no meaning if applied to the light or the dawn.

Analysed with reference to the idea of air in motion, the whole of the story becomes self-luminous. Like the fire which at its first kindling ness myth. steps out with the strength of a horse from its prison, the wind may freshen to a gale before it be an hour old, and sweep before it the mighty clouds big with the rain that is to refresh the earth. Where it cannot throw do^Ti it can penetrate. It pries unseen into holes and crannies, it sweeps round dark comers, it plunges into glens and caves ; and when the folk come out to see the mischief that it has done, they hear its mocking laughter as it hastens on its way. These few phrases lay bare the whole framework of the Homeric legend, and account for the not ill-natured slyness and love of practical jokes which enter into the character of Hermes.^ The babe leaves the cradle before he is an hour old. The breath of the breeze is at first soft and harmonious as the sounds which he summons from his tortoise- lyre. But his strength grows rapidly, and he lays aside his harp to set out on a plundering expedition. With mighty strides he hastens from the heights of Kyllene until he drives from their pastures the cattle of ApoUon, obliterating the foot-tracks after the fashion of the autumn-winds, which cover the roads with leaves and mire.^ In his course he sees an old man working in his vineyard, and, like a cats- paw on the surface of the sea, he whispers in his ear a warning of which but half the sound is caught before the breeze has passed away. All the night long the wind roared, or, as the poet says, Hermes toiled till the branches of the trees, rubbing against each other, burst into a flame ; and so men praise Hermes, like Prometheus, Phoroneus, and Bhuranyu, as the giver of the kindliest boon — fire.* The flames, fanned by the wdnd, consume the sacrifice ; but the wind, though hungry, cannot eat of it,* and when the morning has come he returns to his mother's cave, passing through the opening of the bolt like the sigh of a summer breeze or mist on a hillside.^ The wind is tired of blowing, or, in other words, the feet of Hermes patter almost noiselessly over the floor,® till he lies down to sleep in his cradle which he had left but a few hours ago. The sun rises and finds to his discomfiture that the herds are gone. He too sees the hedger of Onchestos, who thinks, but is not sure,^ that he had seen a babe driving cows before him. The sun hastens on his way, sorely perplexed at the confused foot-tracks covered with mud and strewn with leaves, just as if

» Hor. Od. i. lo. * /?'. 131. 3 lb. I lO. ^ Jb. 149. ' Ih. 208.
 * Hyvm to Ilcnncs, 75. • lb. 147.