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 But here in our New England he comes more gradually. Often the South and the North Winds fight for possession of the land for several days. But soon the old blusterer is driven back, and the South Wind has things all his own way.

Then he comes dancing over hill and dale, calling low sweet strains to all the wild flowers, trees and shrubs. Up from their leaf mold beds the flowers come dancing, fragrant, and new as a new day, sweet and smiling as only spring can make them, miracles of beauty and loveliness. Then the birds sing, the brooks babble, the sunbeams dance, and all the world is glad.

Glad for the new life, glad for the new joy and the new hope. "We knew the South Wind would not forget," they all seem to be saying. "We knew Mother Nature would keep us safe and sound until another spring."

She certainly did keep them well, just as she keeps all her promises both to flowers and to men. So well she kept them that this latest