ught him
a bundle of roots, and a written message, which ran thus:

"These roots, though common with us, are unknown where thou dwellest.
It is a lily, as white and as fragrant as the Lily of the
Annunciation, but much smaller. Beautiful as it is, it is hardy, and
if planted in a damp spot and left strictly undisturbed it will spread
and flourish like a weed. It hath a rare and delicate perfume, and
having white bells on many footstalks up the stem, one above the
other, as the angels stood in Jacob's dream, the common children call
it Ladders to Heaven."

And when Brother Benedict read the first part of the letter he laughed
hastily, and said, "The abbot hath no such lily." But when he had
finished it, he said, "GOD rid my soul of self-seeking! The common
children shall have them, and not I."

And, seizing the plants and a spade, he ran out beyond the bounds of
the monastery, and down into a little copse where the earth was kept
damp by the waters of the stream which never failed. And there he
planted the roots, and as he turned to go away he said, "The blessing
of our Maker rest on thee! And give joy of thy loveliness, and
pleasure of thy perfume, to others when I am gone. And let him who
enjoys remember the soul of him who planted thee."

And he covered his face with his hands, and went back to the
monastery. And he did not enter the new plant upon his roll, for he
had no such lily in his garden.

* * * * *

Brother Benedict's soul had long departed, when in times of turbulence
and change the monastery was destroyed, and between fire and plunder
and reckless destruction everything perished, and even the garden was
laid waste. But no one touched the Lilies of the Valley in the copse
below, for they were so common that they were looked upon as weeds.
And though nothing remained of the brotherhood but old tales, these
lingered, and were handed on; and when the children played with the
lilies and bickered over them, crying, "My ladder has twelve white
angels and yours has only eight," they would often call them Brother
Benedict's flowers, adding, "but the real right name of them is
Ladders to Heaven."

And after a time a new race came into the Green Valley and filled it;
and the stream which never failed turned many wheels, and trades were
brisk, and they were what are called black trades. And men made money
soon, and spent it soon, and died soon; and in the time between each
lived