At the Back of the North Wind

the sky. Don’t you think I shall, some day?”

“Yes, I do. Tell me what more you see up there.”

“I don’t see anything more, except a few leaves, and the big sky over me. It goes swinging about. The earth is all behind my back. There comes another star! The wind is like kisses from a big lady. When I get up here I feel as if I were in North Wind’s arms.”

This was the first I heard of North Wind.

The whole ways and look of the child, so full of quiet wisdom, yet so ready to accept the judgment of others in his own dispraise, took hold of my heart, and I felt myself wonderfully drawn towards him. It seemed to me, somehow, as if little Diamond possessed the secret of life, and was himself what he was so ready to think the lowest living thing⁠—an angel of God with something special to say or do. A gush of reverence came over me, and with a single “goodnight,” I turned and left him in his nest.

I saw him often after this, and gained so much of his confidence that he told me all I have told you. I cannot pretend to account for it. I leave that for each philosophical reader to do after his own fashion. The easiest way is that of Nanny and Jim, who said often to each other that Diamond had a tile loose. But Mr. Raymond was much of my opinion concerning the boy; while Mrs. Raymond confessed that she often rang her bell just to have once more the pleasure of seeing the lovely stillness of the boy’s face, with those blue eyes which seemed rather made for other people to look into than for himself to look out of.

It was plainer to others than to himself that he felt the desertion of Nanny and Jim. They appeared to regard him as a mere toy, except when they found he could minister to the scruple of using him⁠—generally with success. They were, however, well-behaved to a wonderful degree; while I have little doubt that much of their good behaviour was owing to the unconscious influence of the boy they called God’s baby.

One very strange thing is that I could never find out where he got some of his many songs. At times they would be but bubbles blown out of a nursery rhyme, as was the following, which I heard him sing one evening to his little Dulcimer. There were about a score of sheep feeding in a paddock near him, their white wool dyed a pale rose in the light of the setting sun. Those in the long shadows from the trees were dead white; those in the sunlight were half glorified with pale rose.

Little Bo Peep, she lost her sheep,
And didn’t know where to find them;
They were over the height and out of sight,
Trailing their tails behind them.

Little Bo Peep woke out of her sleep,
Jump’d up and set out to find them:
“The silly things, they’ve got no wings,
And they’ve left their trails behind them:

“They’ve taken their tails, but they’ve left their trails,
And so I shall follow and find them;”
For wherever a tail had dragged a trail,
The long grass grew behind them.

And day’s eyes and buttercups, cow’s lips and crow’s feet
Were glittering in the sun.
She threw down her book, and caught up her crook,
And after her sheep did run.

She ran, and she ran, and ever as she ran,
The grass grew higher and higher;
Till over the hill the sun began
To set in a flame of fire.

She ran on still⁠—up the grassy hill,
And the grass grew higher and higher;
When she reached its crown, the sun was down,
And had left a trail of fire.

The sheep and their tails were gone, all gone⁠—
And no more trail behind them!
Yes, yes! they were there⁠—long-tailed and fair,
But, alas! she could not find them.

Purple and gold, and rosy and blue,
With their tails all white behind them,
Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun;
She saw them, but could not find them.

After the sun, like clouds they did run,
But she knew they were her sheep:
She sat down to cry, and look up at the sky,
But she cried herself asleep.

And as she slept the dew fell fast,
And the wind blew from the sky;
And strange things took place that shun the day’s face,
Because they are sweet and shy.

Nibble, nibble, crop! she heard as she woke:
A hundred little lambs
Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
That grew in the trails of their dams.

Little Bo Peep caught up her crook,
And wiped the tears that did blind her.
And nibble, nibble crop! without a stop!
The lambs came eating behind her.

Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
With three times as many sheep.
In a month or more, they’ll be as big as before,
And then she’ll laugh in her sleep.

But what would you say, if one fine day,
When they’ve got their bushiest tails,
Their grown up game should be just the same,
And she have to follow their trails?

Never weep, Bo Peep, though you lose your sheep,
And do not know where to find them;
’Tis after the sun the mothers have run,
And there are their lambs behind them.

I confess again to having touched up a little, but it loses far more in Diamond’s sweet voice singing it than it gains by a rhyme here and there.

Some of them were out of books Mr. Raymond had given him. These he always knew, but about the others he could seldom tell. Sometimes he would say, “I made that one.” but generally he would say, “I don’t know; I found it somewhere;” or “I got it at the back of the north wind.”

One evening I found him sitting on the grassy slope under the house, with his Dulcimer in his arms and his little brother rolling on the grass beside them. He was