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