ts, men with the greatest wisdom concerning
the ways of flowers, but still the bulb rested passive. The man offered
rewards, but in vain. His garden was still famous and praised for its
beauty far and near; but it pleased him no longer. His heart ached with
longing for the one perfect flower.

One night he lay awake, mourning and restless, until he could bear it no
more. He rose, the only waking figure in the sleeping castle, and went out
upon a balcony. A flood of moonlight was turning his garden to silver, and
suddenly a nightingale's sobbing song pulsed upon the air and filled his
heart to bursting.

Wrapping his mantle about him, he descended a winding stair and walked to
where, in the centre of the garden, reposed his buried hope. No one was by
to witness the breaking down of his pride. He knelt, and swift tears fell
upon the earth and moistened it.

What wonder was this? He brushed away the blinding drops, the better to
see, for a little green shoot appeared from the brown earth, and, with a
leap of the heart, he perceived that his flower had begun to grow.

Every succeeding night, while all in the castle were sleeping, he descended
to the garden and tended the plant.

Steadily it grew, and finally the bud appeared, and one fair day it burst
into blossom and filled the whole garden with its perfume.

The thought of parting with this treasure tugged at the man's very
heartstrings. "The King has many, how many, who can tell! Must I give up
mine to Him? Not yet. Not quite yet!"

So he put off carrying away the perfect flower from one day to the next,
till at last it fell and was no more worthy.

Ah, then what sadness possessed the man's soul! He vowed that he would
never rest until he had brought another plant to perfection and given it to
the King; for he realized, at last, that only by giving it, could its
loveliness become perennial. Yet he mourned his perfect flower, for it
seemed to him no other would ever possess such beauty.

So he set forth again to the Public Garden, but there a great shock awaited
him. He found that no second bulb could be vouchsafed to any one. Very
sadly he retraced his steps and carefully covered the precious bulb, hoping
that when the season of storm and frost was past, there might come to it
renewed life.

As soon as the spring began to spread green loveliness again across the
landscape, the man turned, with a full heart, to the care and nurture of
his hope. The winter of wa