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-cl