[March, 
134 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
them.” — “But I dare not go home without them,” 
Dolly cried, with a shudder, sitting upright, while a 
frightened look came into her eyes.—“Surely, the 
mother will not scold when you tell her of the 
accident.” 
“ Ah ! but I have no mother or father, and 
Granny Deane is so cross and so cruel.” 
“Then, poor little one, is it indeed so that you 
have no home or friends ?” and the good farmer’s 
voice sounded strangely husky. 
“No one in the wide world.” 
“Then you shall come home with me. The good 
mother will welcome you gladly, and Katrina has 
long wished for a sister.” 
“But where am I to go?” asked Dolly, with eyes 
wide open in amazement. 
“ To the country—to a great farm, where there 
are cows and ducks and chickens, and where 
you will be well fed and sheltered from these 
cold winds.” 
“How lovely it sounds ! I will go with you;” 
and Dolly slid her tiny hand into the farmer’s large 
one, which closed lovingly over it. 
“Then come and we will be off at once.” 
The forlorn little flower-girl could hardly believe 
her senses, when she found herself snugly tucked 
up in a nest of buffalo robes, and rolling merrily 
along behind “ Tom ” and “ Jerry,” who quickened 
their pace, as soon as they found their faces turned 
towards home, while the sunbeam danced gaily 
about them, and even smiled upon the March 
wind and whispered, “I was wrong I see. You 
can do a kind act when you try, and it is only an 
ill wind which blows nobody any good.” The 
farmer’s wife and her llaxen-haired Katrina 
stood in the doorway of the old Dutch homestead, 
as farmer Van Dresel drove into the yard, and 
shouted heartily, “I have forgotten the blue ribbon 
The March wind was out 
on a frolic one afternoon, 
dancing over bare fields 
and wild woodlands—play¬ 
ing pranks with the dairy 
maids and the flowing 
locks of the children coming from the 
village school; whistling in the chim¬ 
neys, blowing through the key-holes, 
and even trying to steal the hat from 
the head of good-natured farmer Van Dresel, as 
he was jogging along the country road towards 
the great city, with a wagon load of chickens, tur¬ 
keys, and farm produce. 
The March wind is a boisterous sprite, and speeds 
over the ground faster than any race horse on 
record, and he does not confine his tricks to the 
country alone, but reaches the city some time ahead 
of the farmer,—who has a ferry to cross,—and goes 
tearing up one street and down another in a per- 
waft away from the town. But you shall see be¬ 
fore long what I can do,” and with a shrill laugh 
he pounced down again upon the small flower mer¬ 
chant, who was holding a tray of violets and snow¬ 
drops, making her shiver and shake in his rough 
grasp, while the tears filled her brown eyes ; for 
poor Dolly was thinly clad, and did not dare to re¬ 
turn home to the old woman who sent her out, un¬ 
til all her bouquets were gone.—“ Oh ! dear 1” she 
sighed, “ no one will stop for flowers on such a day 
as this. Please, lady, buy some violets,—only ten 
cents.” 
Farmer Van Dresel had driven, meanwhile, 
“Tom ” and “ Jerry,” his stout pair of farm horses, 
through the lower part of the city to Washington 
Market, where, having sold all his poultry and vege¬ 
tables, he remembered that his wife had asked him 
to buy some things for her, and turned his horses’ 
heads in the direction of Broadway. “ There’s the 
skein of blue yarn, the churn, a neiv pipkin, and 
some blue ribbon for Katrina’s Sunday bonnet; I 
believe that is all,” mused the farmer, as he rode 
along, his broad brimmed hat now securely tied 
down with a red and white woolen scarf. But 
Katrina was not to have her trimmings that day; 
for, just as the farmer reached Broadway, with a 
shout and a hurrah, round the corner came that 
tormenting March wind again, made the wagon 
fairly tremble as he flew by, snatched the tray from 
Dolly’s cold fingers, scattering the flowers up and 
down the sidewalk ; and finally, fairly lifting the 
wee maiden off her feet, hurled her with 
much force into the middle of the street, and 
almost beneath the feet of farmer Van 
Dresel’s steady old “Jerry.’ ’ 
Another instant, and an iron hoof would 
have struck the brown head lying helplessly 
on the cold pavement; but “Tom,” who 
was a very wise horse, came suddenly to a 
A MARCH WIND THAT BROUGHT COMFORT 
feet cloud of dust; sending big and little folks 
hurrying along in a very undignified manner ; car¬ 
rying veils, caps and parcels floating through the 
air, and sometimes even blowing down a sign-board 
with a tremendous clatter. 
“ What a mischievous fellow you are !” exclaimed 
a bright little sunbeam that came peeping through 
a dark cloud. “ It is a shame to tease that poor little 
flower girl Dolly so; and she is a great pet of 
mine. 1 could never ha ve the heart to make peo¬ 
ple so uncomfortable ; but I don’t believe you ever 
did a good deed in your life.”—“ Haven’t I!” blus¬ 
tered the March wind, “ you are a silly little thing, 
and have no idea of the vapors and malaria that I 
Drawn and Engraved for the American Agriculturist. 
halt, forcing “ Jerry ” to do the same, and nearly 
throwing the astonished farmer backwards, so 
sudden was the pause. 
“ Bless us and sav' us!” cried Mr. Van Dresel, 
as he saw what had lmnnened, clambered down 
from his high seat, and lifted the little girl—who 
was stunned by the fall—from her hard resting- 
place. lie bore her into a neighboring drug-store, 
where restoratives soon brought a tinge of color to 
the white face. Slowlv the dark eyes opened, and 
a faint voice asked, “ Oh ! where are mv flowers ?” 
“ Never mind the posies, sweet-heart,” said the 
farmer gently, smoothing the tangled curls, “if you 
are only safe and unhurt we need not care for 
and the new pipkin, but I have brought to wyj 
Katrina the much desired sister, and to my good 
wife a daughter to fill the place of our Gretclien, 
who, if she had lived, would have been just about 
her age.” . j 
And need I sav. that the poor little waff founa 
a happy home and warm friends in the stone farm¬ 
house to which the March wind had blown her, and 
as Frau Van Dresel drew her towards the glowing 
wood fire, the same saucy breeze sang a song of 
welcome in the wide chimney above ? So rough ex¬ 
teriors frequently cover warm hearts, and what we 
deplore as misfortunes often prove blessings in- 
disguise. 
