At the Back of the North Wind

This was what he began to say, but as he spoke his eyes came wide open, and behold, there were neither Apostles nor vergers there—not even a window with the effigies of holy men in it, but a dark heap of hay all about him, and the little panes in the roof of his loft glimmering blue in the light of the morning. Old Diamond was coming awake down below in the stable. In a moment more he was on his feet, and shaking himself so that young Diamond’s bed trembled under him.

“He’s grand at shaking himself,” said Diamond. “I wish I could shake myself like that. But then I can wash myself, and he can’t. What fun it would be to see Old Diamond washing his face with his hoofs and iron shoes! Wouldn’t it be a picture?”

So saying, he got up and dressed himself. Then he went out into the garden. There must have been a tremendous wind in the night, for although all was quiet now, there lay the little summer-house crushed to the ground, and over it the great elm-tree, which the wind had broken across, being much decayed in the middle. Diamond almost cried to see the wilderness of green leaves, which used to be so far up in the blue air, tossing about in the breeze, and liking it best when the wind blew it most, now lying so near the ground, and without any hope of ever getting up into the deep air again.

“I wonder how old the tree is!” thought Diamond. “It must take a long time to get so near the sky as that poor tree was.”

“Yes, indeed,” said a voice beside him, for Diamond had spoken the last words aloud.

Diamond started, and looking around saw a clergyman, a brother of Mrs. Coleman, who happened to be visiting her. He was a great scholar, and was in the habit of rising early.

“Who are you, my man?” he added.

“Little Diamond,” answered the boy.

“Oh! I have heard of you. How do you come to be up so early?”

“Because the sham Apostles talked such nonsense, they waked me up.”

The clergyman stared. Diamond saw that he had better have held his tongue, for he could not explain things.

“You must have been dreaming, my little man,” said he. “Dear! dear!” he went on, looking at the tree, “there has been terrible work here. This is the north wind’s doing. What a pity! I wish we lived at the back of it, I’m sure.”

“Where is that sir?” asked Diamond.

“Away in the Hyperborean regions,” answered the clergyman, smiling.

“I never heard of the place,” returned Diamond.

“I daresay not,” answered the clergyman; “but if this tree had been there now, it would not have been blown down, for there is no wind there.”

“But, please, sir, if it had been there,” said Diamond, “we should not have had to be sorry for it.”

“Certainly not.”

“Then we shouldn’t have had to be glad for it, either.”

“You’re quite right, my boy,” said the clergyman, looking at him very kindly, as he turned away to the house, with his eyes bent towards the earth. But Diamond thought within himself, “I will ask North Wind next time I see her to take me to that country. I think she did speak about it once before.”

CHAPTER IX. HOW DIAMOND GOT TO THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND

WHEN Diamond went home to breakfast, he found his father and mother already seated at the table. They were both busy with their bread and butter, and Diamond sat himself down in his usual place. His mother looked up at him, and, after watching him for a moment, said:

“I don’t think the boy is looking well, husband.”

“Don’t you? Well, I don’t know. I think he looks pretty bobbish. How do you feel yourself, Diamond, my boy?”

“Quite well, thank you, father; at least, I think I’ve got a little headache.”

“There! I told you,” said his father and mother both at once.

“The child’s very poorly” added his mother.

“The child’s quite well,” added his father.

And then they both laughed.

“You see,” said his mother, “I’ve had a letter from my sister at Sandwich.”

“Sleepy old hole!” said his father.

“Don’t abuse the place; there’s good people in it,” said his mother.

“Right, old lady,” returned his father; “only I don’t believe there are more than two pair of carriage-horses in the whole blessed place.”

“Well, people can get to heaven without carriages—or coachmen either, husband. Not that I should like to go without my coachman, you know. But about the boy?”

“What boy?”

“That boy, there, staring at you with his goggle-eyes.”

“Have I got goggle-eyes, mother?” asked Diamond, a little dismayed.

“Not too goggle,” said his mother, who was quite proud of her boy’s eyes, only did not want to make him vain.

“Not too goggle; only you need not stare so.”

“Well, what about him?” said his father.

“I told you I had got a letter.”

“Yes, from your sister; not from Diamond.”

“La, husband! you’ve got out of bed the wrong leg first this morning, I do believe.”

“I always get out with both at once,” said his father, laughing.

“Well, listen then. His aunt wants the boy to go down and see her.”

“And that’s why you want to make out that he ain’t looking well.”

“No more he is. I think he had better go.”

“Well, I don’t care, if you can find the money,” said his father.

“I’ll manage that,” said his mother; and so it was agreed that Diamond should go to Sandwich.

I will not describe the preparations Diamond made. You would have thought he had been going on a three months’ voyage. Nor will I describe the journey, for our business is now at the place. He was met at the station by his aunt, a cheerful middle-aged woman, and conveyed in safety to the sleepy old town, as his father called it. And no wonder that it was sleepy, for it was nearly dead of old age.