Master of the Prairie, walking out over his great lawns, where
were only grasses, asked the Prairie, 'Where are your flowers?' and the
Prairie said, 'Master, I have no seeds.' Then he spoke to the birds,
and they carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and
wide, and soon the Prairie bloomed with crocuses and roses and buffalo
beans and the yellow crowfoot and the wild sunflowers and the red lilies
all the summer long. Then the Master came and was well pleased; but he
missed the flowers he loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie:
'Where are the clematis and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind
flowers, and all the ferns and flowering shrubs?' And again he spoke to
the birds, and again they carried all the seeds and strewed them far and
wide. But, again, when the Master came, he could not find the flowers he
loved best of all, and he said: 'Where are those, my sweetest flowers?'
and the Prairie cried sorrowfully: 'Oh, Master, I cannot keep the
flowers, for the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun beats upon my
breast, and they wither up and fly away.' Then the Master spoke to the
Lightning, and with one swift blow the Lightning cleft the Prairie to
the heart. And the Prairie rocked and groaned in agony, and for many a
day moaned bitterly over its black, jagged, gaping wound. But the Little
Swan poured its waters through the cleft, and carried down deep black
mould, and once more the birds carried seeds and strewed them in the
canyon. And after a long time the rough rocks were decked out with soft
mosses and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung with clematis
and columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high up into
the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars and
balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and maiden-hair grew
and bloomed, till the canyon became the Masters place for rest and peace
and joy."

The quaint tale was ended, and Gwen lay quiet for some moments, then
said gently:

"Yes! The canyon flowers are much the best. Tell me what it means."

Then The Pilot read to her: "The fruits--I'll read 'flowers'--of the
Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness,
faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these grow only in the
canyon."

"Which are the canyon flowers?" asked Gwen softly, and The Pilot
answered:

"Gentleness, meekness, self-control; but though the others, love, joy,
peace, bloom in the open, yet never wi