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 flower of purity grows
upon it. Shall we ascend and gather it? or, like the youth, climb but
half the distance, and cheat our eyes and souls of the view from the
height?