W ABEND'S GIFT 117 



" Different grains for different lands," said the 

 Wind ; " grains for heat and grains for cold, and 

 of all the grains 



" I am the King," whispered the Wheat that 

 Baldy was sowing, to the Wind that helped scatter 

 it. " No man knows from whence I came or what 

 country gave me birth ; before man could be I was, 

 and if I should disappear man would follow. The 

 world waits each harvest to know how I have 

 thriven, that it may measure its strength. I am 

 hearty myself ; I need deep, sharp soil to eat and 

 from which to rear my proud head on a straight, 

 stiff stalk." 



" I am more humble," called the scattered Rye 

 in the thresher ; " the bread I yield is dark and 

 coarse, truly, but the ploughman loves it. I can 

 grow anywhere, and on my straws the well-fed 

 cattle sleep sound o' winter nights, while I give 

 them dreams of summer pasturing." 



" I am Monomin, the magic grain," said the Oats 

 that the Quail were gleaning. " I whisper to the 

 tired, hungry horse, ' Up and away ! ' and fire re- 

 turns to his eye and strength to his limbs as he 

 feels me stirring within him. Then in bleak, 

 northern lands I give the people vital heat and 

 life in bread and porridge." 



" There are two other grains that I know well," 



