While everything else was being made so happy, the poor fishes were having a sad time. They could not leave the water to go to the Hill of Taara, but they stretched their heads out of the brooks and rivers to their very eyes, yet kept their ears under. So they saw Vanemuine, the song-god, move his lips, but heard nothing, and they did as he did and made no sound. To this day the poor, dumb fishes move their lips, but speak no language.
Only the men and women who stood close around the Hill of Taara understood everything that was sung. That is why human voices more than any others can thrill us and make us see the beautiful and true.
Vanemuine sang of the glory of heaven and of the beauty of earth. He sang of the flowing waters and of the rustling leaves. He sang of the joys and the sorrows that come to all people, to children and parents, to the rich and to the poor. If we listen to the songs sung to-day, with open ears and expectant hearts, we may hear all that Vanemuine sang so long ago upon the Hill of Taara.
When Vanemuine's songs had been heard by all the world, he rose on the wings of the winds and went far into cloudland to his golden palace in the sky. There he still sings his wonderful songs for those who are greater than mankind.
To this very day the people of Finland think they can sometimes hear Vanemuine's voice when the forest trees sigh in the wind, or the water in the river softly laps against its rocky shore. Perhaps--who knows?--we may hear him, too, if we listen well!
[A BAG OF WINDS]
Greek
"Oh, Grace, do see that man with all those little balloons! Don't they look like a bunch of big cherries?"
"Yes, they do, Carrie, but cherries are all of one color, and some of his balloons are red and some are blue. Oh, here is one that has burst. See, it is only a little rubber sack that was once full of air."
"That makes me think, Carrie, of a story I read the other day about a bag of winds. It was about the King of the Winds and his kindness. It was this way: