imbing." 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 she's gone, the surer the sign she's reached the mountain
top. It's a long way up there, and a weary journey back. My feet have
trod it often, and I know all the sharp rocks and the tangled branches
in the way. But she will come yet. I hear footsteps not far away."

"But too late, we fear, for your eyes to behold the blossom, should she
bring it."

"Then put it on my grave--but hark! she comes--some one approaches!"

Through the crowd, holding high the spotless flower, came the fair girl,
with torn sandals and weary feet, but with beaming eyes. The old man
raised himself in bed, while she knelt to receive his blessing.

"Fair girl,"--he spoke in those clear tones which the dying ever
use,--"the whiteness of this blossom is only rivaled by the angels'
garments. Its spotless purity enters ever into the soul of him who plucks
it, making it white as their robes. To all who persevere to the mountain
top and pluck this flower, into all does its purity, its essence, enter
and remain forever. For is it not the reward of the toiler, who pauses
not till the summit is gained?"

"Oh! good man, the mountain view was so grand, I fain would have lingered
to gaze; but, longing to lay the blossom in thy hand, I hastened back."

"Thou shalt behold all the grandeur thy toil has earned thee. Unto
those who climb to the mountain summit, who mind not the sharp rocks
and loose, rough grass beneath their tread,--unto such shall all the
views be given; for they shall some day be lifted in vision, without aid
of feet, to grander heights than their weary limbs have reached."

The old man lay back and died.

They buried him, with the flower on his breast, one day just as the sun
was setting. Ere the winter snows fell, many of the laborers, both men
and women, went up the mountain to its very top, and brought back the
white blossoms to deck his grave.

* * * * *

The summit only has the view, and the white