A little Breeze crept slyly out the other day from under the wing of his
mother, the great North Wind. To his surprise he found a crowd of
Breezes and Zephyrs who had wakened an hour or two earlier than he. They
were rushing here and there, and frolicking with everything they saw. A
very pompous old gentleman with a gold-headed cane was walking down the
street, and a naughty Breeze whisked off his hat and wig. "Take care of
yourself!" said the Wind to the Breeze; "such behavior is very wrong." A
boy was carrying a kitten in a basket. He was taking it away to give it
to his aunt Mary. Presto! a Breeze whirled away his cap, and another one
peered into the basket, and out flew Miss Kittykins, and ran home as
fast as four velvet paws could carry her. The Breezes blew against the
shutters and broke the windows, and dashed around the corners, and had
the merriest time; and they are having it still. The Postmistress says
she is glad of it, for March is a jolly month, and all the while that he
is tearing about with his troop of whistling Winds and his crew of
rioting Gales he is preparing the way for the gentle maiden Spring to
come in earnest.
And kite-time's here too, isn't it, boys?
* * * * *