and he could hear it quite plainly, even with his head under the bedclothes. It was a still more gentle voice now, although six times as large and loud as it had been, and he thought it sounded a little like his mother's.

"What is your name, little boy?" it asked.

"Diamond," answered Diamond under the bedclothes.

"What a funny name!"

"It's a very nice name," returned its owner.

"I don't know that," said the voice.

"Well, I do," retorted Diamond, a little rudely.

"Do you know to whom you are speaking?"

"No," said Diamond.

And indeed he did not. For to know a person's name is not always to know the person's self.

"Then I must not be angry with you.-You had better look and see, though."

"Diamond is a very pretty name," persisted the boy, vexed that it should not give satisfaction.

"Diamond is a useless thing, rather," said the voice.

"That's not true. Diamond is very nice as big as two- and so quiet all night! And doesn't he make a jolly row in the morning, getting up on his four great legs! It's like thunder." "You don't seem to know what a diamond is."

"Oh, don't I just!

Diamond is a great and good horse; and he sleeps right under me. He is Old Diamond, and I am Young Diamond; or if you like it better,- for you're very particular, Mr. North Wind,- he's Big Diamond, and I'm Little Diamond: and I don't know which of us my father likes best."

A beautiful laugh, large but very soft and musical, sounded somewhere beside him; but Diamond kept his head under the clothes.

"I'm not Mr. North Wind," said the voice.

"You told me that you were the North Wind," insisted Diamond.

"I did not say Mister North Wind," said the voice. "Well then, I do; for mother tells me I ought to be polite.”

"Then let me tell you I don't think it at all polite of you to say Mister to me."

"Well, I didn't know better. I'm very sorry."

"But you ought to know better."

"I don't know that."

"I do. You can't say it's polite to lie there talking, with your head under the bedclothes, and never look up to see what kind of person you are talking to. I want you to come out with me."

"I want to go to sleep," said Diamond, very nearly crying; for he did not like to be scolded, even when he deserved it.

"You shall sleep all the better to-morrow night."

"Besides," said Diamond, "you are out in Mr. Dyves's garden, and I can't get there. I can only get into our own yard." "Will you take your head out of the bedclothes?" said the voice, just a little angrily.

"No!" answered Diamond, half peevish, half frightened.

The instant he said the word, a tremendous blast of wind crashed in a board of the wall, and swept the clothes off Diamond. He started up in terror. Leaning over him was the large, beautiful, pale face of a woman. Her dark eyes looked a little angry, for they had just begun to flash; but a quivering in her sweet upper lip made her look as if she were going to cry. What was most strange was that away from her head streamed out her black hair in every direction, so that the darkness in the hay-loft looked as if it were made of her hair; but as Diamond gazed at her in speechless amazement, mingled with confidence, - for the boy was entranced with her mighty beauty,- her hair began to gather itself out of the darkness, and fell down all about her again, till her face looked out of the midst of it like a moon out of a cloud. From her eyes came all the light by which Diamond saw her face and her hair; and that was all he did see of her yet. The wind was over and gone.

"Will you go with me now, you little Diamond? I am sorry I was forced to be so rough with you," said the lady.

"I will; yes, I will," answered Diamond, holding out both his arms. "But," he added, dropping them, "how shall I get my clothes? They are in mother's room, and the door is locked."

"Oh, never mind your clothes. You will not be cold. I shall take care of that. Nobody is cold with the North Wind.” "I thought everybody was," said Diamond.

"That is a great mistake. Most people make it, however. They are cold because they are not with the North Wind, but without it."

If Diamond had been a little older, and had supposed himself a good deal wiser, he would have thought the lady was joking.

But he was not older, and did not fancy himself wiser, and therefore understood her well enough. Again he stretched out his

arms.

The lady's face drew back a little. "Follow me, Diamond," she said.

"Yes," said Diamond, only a little ruefully. "You're not afraid?” said the North Wind.

"No, ma'am: but mother never would let me go without shoes; she never said anything about clothes, so I daresay she wouldn't mind that."

"I know your mother very well," said the lady. "She is a good woman. I have visited her often. I was with her when you were born. I saw her laugh and cry both at once. I love your mother, Diamond."

"How was it you did not know my name, then, ma'am? Please, am I to say ma'am to you, ma'am?”

"One question at a time, dear boy. I knew your name quite well, but I wanted to hear what you would say for it. Don't you remember that day when the man was finding fault with your name—how I blew the window in ?»

"Our window opens

"Yes, yes," answered Diamond eagerly. like a door, right over the coach-house door. And the windyou, ma'am came in, and blew the Bible out of the man's hands, and the leaves went all flutter-flutter on the floor, and my mother picked it up and gave it back to him open, and there - "

"Was your name in the Bible - the sixth stone in the highpriest's breast-plate."

"Oh! a stone, was it?" said Diamond. "I thought it had been a horse - I did."

"Never mind. A horse is better than a stone any day. you see, I know all about you and your mother." "Yes. I will go with you."

Well,

"Now for the next question: you're not to call me ma'am. You must call me just my own name-respectfully, you knowjust North Wind."

"Well, please, North Wind, you are so beautiful, I am quite ready to go with you."

"You must not be ready to go with everything beautiful all at once, Diamond.”

"But what's beautiful can't be bad. You're not bad, North Wind?"

"No; I'm not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing bad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty. So little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are beautiful."

"Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good too."

"Ah, but there's another thing, Diamond: What if I should look ugly without being bad-look ugly myself because I am making ugly things beautiful? what then?"

"I don't quite understand you, North Wind. what then."

You tell me

"Well, I will tell you. If you see me with my face all black, don't be frightened. If you see me flapping wings like a bat's, as big as the whole sky, don't be frightened. If you hear me raging ten times worse than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith's wife,even if you see me looking in at people's windows like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener's wife,—you must believe that I am doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a serpent or a tiger, you must not let go your hold of me, for my hand will never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a hold, you will know who I am all the time, even when you look at me and can't see me the least like the North Wind. I may look something very awful.

"Quite well," said little

Do you understand? »
Diamond.

"Come along then," said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain of hay.

Diamond crept out of bed and followed her.

JEAN MACÉ

(1815-)

EAN MACE is a benign child-lover, and has never lost the childlike simplicity and zest in life which characterize his

style. He was born in Paris in 1815; and his parents, plain working-people who were ambitious for their boy, gave him unusual advantages for one of his class. His course at the Collège Stanilaus was not completed without self-sacrifice at home which made him prize and improve his opportunities.

At

twenty-one he became instructor in history in the same college, and he was teaching in the Collège Henri IV., when he was drafted as a soldier. After three years' service he was bought out by his friend and former professor M. Burette, whose private secretary he became. Always interested in politics, and an ardent republican, he welcomed the revolution of 1848 with an enthusiasm which involved him in difficulties a few years later. With the restoration of the Empire under Louis Napoleon he was banished; and in exile, at the age of thirty-seven, he discovered his true vocation.

The "Little Château," at Beblenheim in Alsace, was a private school for girls, kept by his friend Mademoiselle Verenet, who now offered Macé a position as teacher of natural science and literature. He loved to teach, loved to impart fact so that it might exercise a moral influence upon character; and he was very happy in the calmly busy life at Beblenheim, where, as he says, "I was at last in my true calling."

In 1861 he published the 'Histoire d'une Bouchée de Pain,' a simple yet comprehensive work on physiology, made as delightful as a story-book to child readers. Its wide popularity both in French, and in an English translation as The Story of a Mouthful of Bread,' prompted a sequel, Les Serviteurs de l'Estomac (The Servants of the Stomach), also very successful. But the Contes du Petit Château,' a collection of charming fairy tales written for his little pupils, is Macé's masterpiece. These stories are simple lessons in thrift,

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