IN PRAIRIE-LANDS 



shores of the secluded lakes among the hills. 

 On the tops of the mounds the ironweed 

 stands stiffly erect, the sun's rays beating 

 across until weeds and grasses both are burned 

 to darkest brown. 



When the winds blow they will often con- 

 tinue all day long and in many moods and 

 keys. Sometimes they smooth the grass in 

 one direction as a mother might smooth her 

 children's hair; sometimes they tumble the 

 weeds and flowers and tilt the grass as if they 

 sought something which was hidden beneath. 

 But always the breath of these breezes is as 

 pure as spring-water. They come for hun- 

 dreds of miles, and bear on their wings an 

 aroma of flowers and streams, a tang of resin- 

 weeds, and the odor of nameless dried prairie- 

 grasses. When the sun catches the grass as 

 the wind sweeps it aside, myriad pictures flash 

 and fade. Steadily as the folds of a far- 

 flung banner the tall growth of the prairies 

 flaps in the gales that swing across the hills, 

 and sun and clouds beyond lift and dip as the 

 winds go by, and lend a change of form and 

 color to each flying moment. 



Over it all the life that was casts spectral 

 237 



