His wooing was very hopeless. And all the time
he courted the imperious rose, who should be peeping at him from her
home in the hedge but as plump and as sleek a little Miss Dormouse as
ever you saw, and her eyes were full of envy.

"If Mr. Roughbrown had any sense," she said to herself, "he would waste
no time on that vain and frivolous rose. He is far too good a catch
for _her_."

The south wind was forever sighing and sobbing about. He lives, you
know, very many miles from here. His home is beyond a great sea; in
the midst of a vast desert there is an oasis, and it is among the
palm-trees and the flowers of this oasis that the south wind abides.
When spring calls from the North, "O south wind, where are you? Come
hither, my sunny friend!" the south wind leaps from his couch in the
far-off oasis, and hastens whither the spring-time calls. As he speeds
across the sea the mermaids seek to tangle him in their tresses, and
the waves try to twine their white arms about him; but he shakes them
off and laughingly flies upon his way. Wheresoever he goes he is
beloved. With their soft, solemn music the pine-trees seek to detain
him; the flowers of earth lift up their voices and cry, "Abide with us,
dear spirit,"--but to all he answers: "The spring-time calls me in the
North, and I must hasten whither she calls." But when the south wind
came to the rose-tree he would go no farther; he loved the rose, and he
lingered about her with singing and sighing and protestations.

It was not until late in the evening that Dewlove and the elf-prince
appeared. Just as the moon rolled up in the horizon and poured a broad
streak of silver through the lake the three crickets went "Chirp-chirp,
chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," and then out danced Dewlove and Beambright
from their hiding-places. The cunning little fairy lived under the
moss at the foot of the oak-tree; he was no bigger than a cambric
needle,--but he had two eyes, and in this respect he had quite the
advantage of the needle. As for the elf-prince, his home was in the
tiny, dark subterranean passage which the mole used to live in; he was
plump as a cupid, and his hair was long and curly, although if you
force me to it I must tell you that the elf-prince was really no larger
than your little finger,--so you will see that so far as physical
proportions were concerned Dewlove and Beambright were pretty well
matched. Merry, merry fellows they were, and I should certainly fa