|AN old man was sitting alone in his lodge by the side of a frozen
stream. It was the close of winter, and his fire was almost ont. He
appeared very old and very desolate. His locks were white with age, and
he trembled in every joint. Day after day passed in solitude, and he
heard nothing but the sounds of the tempest, sweeping before it the
new-fallen snow.
One day as his fire was just dying, a handsome young man approached and
entered his dwelling. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth; his
eyes sparkled with life; and a smile played upon his lips. He walked
with a light and quick step. His forehead was bound with a wreath of
sweet grass, in place of the warrior's frontlet, and he carried a bunch
of flowers in his hand.
"Ah! my son," said the old man, "I am happy to see you. Come in. Come,
tell me of your adventures, and what strange lands you have been to
see. Let us pass the night together. I will tell you of my prowess and
exploits, and what I can perform. You shall do the same, and we will
amuse ourselves."
He then drew from his sack a curiously wrought antique pipe, and having
filled it with tobacco rendered mild by an admixture of certain dried
leaves, he handed it to his guest. "When this ceremony was attended to,
they began to speak.
"I blow my breath," said the old man, "and the streams stand still. The
water becomes stiff and hard as clear stone."
"I breathe," said the young man, "and flowers spring up all over the
plains."
"I shake my locks," retorted the old man, "and snow covers the land. The
leaves fall from the trees at my command, and my breath blows them away.
The birds rise from the water and fly to a distant land. The animals
hide themselves from the glance of my eye, and the very ground where I
walk becomes as hard as flint."
"I shake my ringlets," rejoined the young man, "and warm showers of
soft rain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their heads out of
the ground like the eyes of children glistening with delight. My voice
recalls the birds. The warmth of my breath unlocks the streams. Music
fills the groves wherever I walk, and all nature welcomes my approach."
At length the sun began to rise. A gentle warmth came over the place.
The tongue of the old man became silent. The robin and the blue-bird
began to sing on the top of the lodge. The stream began to murmur by the
door, and the fragrance of growing herbs and flowers came softly on the
breeze.