One day when Diamond was getting strong enough to go out, his mother got his aunt's husband, who had a little pony cart, to carry them down to the sea-shore. A whiff of sea air, she said, would do them both good. They sat down on the edge of the rough grass which bordered the sand. Away before them stretched the sparkling waters of the ocean, every wave of which flashed out its delight in the face of the great sun. On each hand, the shore rounded outward, forming a little bay. Dry sand was about their feet, and under them thin wiry grass. After a time, his mother stretched out her hand for the basket which she had brought with her and she and Diamond had their dinner. Diamond _did_ enjoy it, the drive and the fresh air had made him so hungry! But he was sorry that his mother looked so sad and depressed. He knew she was thinking about his father and how they now had no home. But there was nothing for him to do. So he lay down on the sand again, feeling sleepy, and gazed sleepily out over the sand. "What is that, mother!" he said. "Only a bit of paper," she answered looking where he pointed. "It flutters more than a bit of paper would, I think," said Diamond. "I'll go and see if you like," said his mother. She rose and went and found that it was a little book partly buried in the sand. Several of its leaves were clear of the sand and these the wind kept blowing about in a very fluttering manner. She took it up and brought it to Diamond. "What is it, mother?" he asked. "Rhymes, I think," said she. "I am so sleepy," he said. "Do read some of them to me." "Well, I will," she said and began one. "But this is such nonsense," she said again. "I will try to find a better one." She turned the leaves, searching, but three times with sudden puffs the wind blew the leaves rustling back to the same verses. "I wonder if that is North Wind," said Diamond to himself. To his mother he said, "Do read that one. It sounded very nice. I am sure it is a good one." His mother thought it might amuse him although she could not find any sense in it. So she read on like this: I know a river whose waters run asleep, run, run ever, singing in the shallows, dumb in the hollows sleeping so deep; and all the swallows that dip their feathers in the hollows or in the shallows are the merriest swallows of all! "Why!" whispered Diamond to himself sleepily, "that is what the river sang when I was at the back of the north wind."