THE STORY OF A MOTHER [1]
must cross it, if she wished to
find her child. Then she laid herself down to drink up the water of
the lake, which was of course impossible for any human being to do;
but the bereaved mother thought that perhaps a miracle might take
place to help her. "You will never succeed in this," said the lake;
let us make an agreement together which will be better. I love to
collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen. If
you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will
take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers
and trees, every one of which is a human life."
"Oh, what would I not give to reach my child!" said the weeping
mother; and as she still continued to weep, her eyes fell into the
depths of the lake, and became two costly pearls.
Then the lake lifted her up, and wafted her across to the opposite
shore as if she were on a swing, where stood a wonderful building many
miles in length. No one could tell whether it was a mountain covered
with forests and full of caves, or whether it had been built. But
the poor mother could not see, for she had wept her eyes into the
lake. "Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little
child?" she asked.
"He has not arrived here yet," said an old gray-haired woman,
who was walking about, and watering Death's hothouse. "How have you
found your way here? and who helped you?"
"God has helped me," she replied. "He is merciful; will you not be
merciful too? Where shall I find my little child?"
"I did not know the child," said the old woman; "and you are
blind. Many flowers and trees have faded to-night, and Death will soon
come to transplant them. You know already that every human being has a
life-tree or a life-flower, just as may be ordained for him. They look
like other plants; but they have hearts that beat. Children's hearts
also beat: from that you may perhaps be able to recognize your
child. But what will you give me, if I tell you what more you will
have to do?
"I have nothing to give," said the afflicted mother; "but I
would go to the ends of the earth for you."
"I can give you nothing to do for me there," said the old woman;
"but you can give me your long black hair. You know yourself that it
is beautiful, and it pleases me. You can take my white hair in
exchange, which will be something in return."
"Do you ask nothing more than that?" said she. "I will give it
to you with pleasure."
And she gave up her beautiful hair, and received in return the
white locks of the old woman. Then they went into Death's vast
hothouse, where flowers and trees grew together in wonderful
profusion. Blooming hyacinths, under glass bells, and peonies, like
strong trees. There grew water-plants, some quite fresh, and others
looking sickly, which had water-snakes twining round them, and black
crabs clinging to their stems. There stood noble palm-trees, oaks, and
plantains, and beneath them bloomed thyme and parsley. Each tree and
flower had a name; each represented a human life, and belonged to
men still living, some in China, others in Greenland, and in all parts
of the world. Some large trees had been planted in little pots, so
that they were cramped for room, and seemed about to burst the pot
to pieces; while many weak little flowers were growing in rich soil,
with moss all around them, carefully tended and cared for. The
sorrowing mother bent over the little plants, and heard the human
heart beating in each, and recognized the beatings of her child's
heart among millions of others.
"That is it," she cried, stretching out her hand towards a
little crocus-flower which hung down its sickly head.
"Do not touch the flower," exclaimed the old woman; "but place
yourself here; and when Death comes- I expect him every minute- do not
let him pull up that plant, but threaten him that if he does you
will serve the other flowers in the same manner. This will make him
afraid; for he must
find her child. Then she laid herself down to drink up the water of
the lake, which was of course impossible for any human being to do;
but the bereaved mother thought that perhaps a miracle might take
place to help her. "You will never succeed in this," said the lake;
let us make an agreement together which will be better. I love to
collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen. If
you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will
take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers
and trees, every one of which is a human life."
"Oh, what would I not give to reach my child!" said the weeping
mother; and as she still continued to weep, her eyes fell into the
depths of the lake, and became two costly pearls.
Then the lake lifted her up, and wafted her across to the opposite
shore as if she were on a swing, where stood a wonderful building many
miles in length. No one could tell whether it was a mountain covered
with forests and full of caves, or whether it had been built. But
the poor mother could not see, for she had wept her eyes into the
lake. "Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little
child?" she asked.
"He has not arrived here yet," said an old gray-haired woman,
who was walking about, and watering Death's hothouse. "How have you
found your way here? and who helped you?"
"God has helped me," she replied. "He is merciful; will you not be
merciful too? Where shall I find my little child?"
"I did not know the child," said the old woman; "and you are
blind. Many flowers and trees have faded to-night, and Death will soon
come to transplant them. You know already that every human being has a
life-tree or a life-flower, just as may be ordained for him. They look
like other plants; but they have hearts that beat. Children's hearts
also beat: from that you may perhaps be able to recognize your
child. But what will you give me, if I tell you what more you will
have to do?
"I have nothing to give," said the afflicted mother; "but I
would go to the ends of the earth for you."
"I can give you nothing to do for me there," said the old woman;
"but you can give me your long black hair. You know yourself that it
is beautiful, and it pleases me. You can take my white hair in
exchange, which will be something in return."
"Do you ask nothing more than that?" said she. "I will give it
to you with pleasure."
And she gave up her beautiful hair, and received in return the
white locks of the old woman. Then they went into Death's vast
hothouse, where flowers and trees grew together in wonderful
profusion. Blooming hyacinths, under glass bells, and peonies, like
strong trees. There grew water-plants, some quite fresh, and others
looking sickly, which had water-snakes twining round them, and black
crabs clinging to their stems. There stood noble palm-trees, oaks, and
plantains, and beneath them bloomed thyme and parsley. Each tree and
flower had a name; each represented a human life, and belonged to
men still living, some in China, others in Greenland, and in all parts
of the world. Some large trees had been planted in little pots, so
that they were cramped for room, and seemed about to burst the pot
to pieces; while many weak little flowers were growing in rich soil,
with moss all around them, carefully tended and cared for. The
sorrowing mother bent over the little plants, and heard the human
heart beating in each, and recognized the beatings of her child's
heart among millions of others.
"That is it," she cried, stretching out her hand towards a
little crocus-flower which hung down its sickly head.
"Do not touch the flower," exclaimed the old woman; "but place
yourself here; and when Death comes- I expect him every minute- do not
let him pull up that plant, but threaten him that if he does you
will serve the other flowers in the same manner. This will make him
afraid; for he must