“Ah, yes, but somebody's arm was about me then,” said Diamond, putting his little mouth to the beautiful cold hand that had a hold of his. “What a dear little warm mouth you've got!” said North Wind. “It is a pity you should talk nonsense with it. Don't you know I have a hold of you?” “Yes; but I'm walking on my own legs, and they might slip. I can't trust myself so well as your arms.” “But I have a hold of you, I tell you, foolish child.” “Yes, but somehow I can't feel comfortable.” “If you were to fall, and my hold of you were to give way, I should be down after you in a less moment than a lady's watch can tick, and catch you long before you had reached the ground.” “I don't like it though,” said Diamond. “Oh! oh! oh!” he screamed the next moment, bent double with terror, for North Wind had let go her hold of his hand, and had vanished, leaving him standing as if rooted to the gallery. She left the words, “Come after me,” sounding in his ears. But move he dared not. In a moment more he would from very terror have fallen into the church, but suddenly there came a gentle breath of cool wind upon his face, and it kept blowing upon him in little puffs, and at every puff Diamond felt his faintness going away, and his fear with it. Courage was reviving in his little heart, and still the cool wafts of the soft wind breathed upon him, and the soft wind was so mighty and strong within its gentleness, that in a minute more Diamond was marching along the narrow ledge as fearless for the time as North Wind herself. He walked on and on, with the windows all in a row on one side of him, and the great empty nave of the church echoing to every one of his brave strides on the other, until at last he came to a little open door, from which a broader stair led him down and down and down, till at last all at once he found himself in the arms of North Wind, who held him close to her, and kissed him on the forehead. Diamond nestled to her, and murmured into her bosom,--“Why did you leave me, dear North Wind?” “Because I wanted you to walk alone,” she answered. “But it is so much nicer here!” said Diamond. “I daresay; but I couldn't hold a little coward to my heart. It would make me so cold!” “But I wasn't brave of myself,” said Diamond, whom my older readers will have already discovered to be a true child in this, that he was given to metaphysics. “It was the wind that blew in my face that made me brave. Wasn't it now, North Wind?” “Yes: I know that. You had to be taught what courage was. And you couldn't know what it was without feeling it: therefore it was given you. But don't you feel as if you would try to be brave yourself next time?” “Yes, I do. But trying is not much.” “Yes, it is--a very great deal, for it is a beginning. And a beginning is the greatest thing of all. To try to be brave is to be brave. The coward who tries to be brave is before the man who is brave because he is made so, and never had to try.”