Allegories of Life | Page 4

Mrs. J.S. Adams
cultured his land, and no
fairer flowers or sweeter fruits grew in the valley than his own. He had
taught the people many truths which he had learned in his solitary life
on the mountain, and in return had learned much from them. He faded
slowly away. The brilliant flowers within his garden grew suddenly
distasteful to him. He longed to look once more on a pure white
blossom which grew only at the mountain top. With its whiteness no
flower could compare. There were others, growing half way up, that
approached its purity, but none equaled the flower on the summit.
"I should like, of all things," answered the old man, when they desired
to know what would most please him,--for he had become a great
favorite in the valley,--"to look once more upon my pure white flower
ere I die; but it's so far to the mountain top, none will care to climb."
"Thou shalt see it!" exclaimed a strong youth, who was courageous, but
seldom completed anything he undertook, for lack of perseverance.
The old man blessed him. He started for the mountain, and walked a
long way up its side, often missing his footing, and at one time seeking
aid from a rotten branch, which broke in his grasp and nearly threw him
to the base.
After repeated efforts to reach the summit, he found a sweet, pale
blossom growing in a mossy nook by a rock.
"Ah! here it is--the same, I dare say, as those on the mountain top. So
what need of climbing farther? What a lucky fellow I am to save so
many steps for myself!" and he went down the mountain side as fast as
he could, amid the rank and tangled wood, with the flower in his hand.
Day was walking over the meadows with golden feet when he entered
the cottage and placed the blossom exultingly in the old man's palm.
"What! so quick returned?" he said. "Thou must have been very
swift--but this, my good young man, never grew on the mountain top!
Thee must have found this half way up. I remember well those little

flowers--they grew by the rocks where I used to rest when on my
journey up."
The crowd who had come to see the strange white flower now laughed
aloud, which made the youth withdraw, abashed and much humbled.
Had he been strong of heart, he would have tried again, and not
returned without the blossom from the mountain top. Many others tried,
but never had the courage to reach its height; while the old man daily
grew weaker.
"He'll die without setting eyes on his flower," said the good woman
who had given him shelter the night he came to the valley. She had not
the courage to try the ascent, but she endeavored to stimulate others to
go to the top and bring the blossom to cheer his heart. She offered, as
reward, choice fruits and linen from her stores; but all had some excuse,
although they loved the old man tenderly: none felt equal to the effort.
Towards noon, a pale, fragile girl, from a distant part of the vale,
appeared, who had heard of his desire, and stood at the door of his
cottage and knocked.
"What dost thou wish?" he asked from within.
"To go to the mountain for the flower and place it in thy hand," she
answered, as she entered his room and meekly stood before him.
"Thou art very frail of body," he replied, "but strong of heart. Go, try,
and my soul will follow and strengthen thee, fair daughter."
She kissed his hand, and departed.
The morning came, and she returned not. The end of the second day
drew nigh, and yet she came not back.
"Pooh, pooh!" exclaimed one of a group of wood-cutters near by the
cottage. "Such a fool-hardy errand will only be met by death. The old
man ought to be content to die without sight of his flower when it costs
so much labor to get it."
"So think me," said his comrade, between the puffs of his pipe; "so
think me. Our flowers are pretty, and good 'nough, too. Sure, he orter
be content with what grows 'round him, and not be sending folk
a-climbing." This said, he resumed his smoking vigorously, and looked
very wise.
* * * * *
The aged man of the mountain was passing rapidly away. The kind
neighbors laid him for the last time on his cot, and sat tearfully around

the room. Some stood in groups outside, looking wistfully towards the
mountain; for their kind hearts could not bear to see him depart without
the flower to gladden his eyes.
"The girl's gone a long time," remarked one of the women.
"The longer
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