the flowers were now mostly of a melancholy kind. One day
she observed a rose-bud which had never blossomed. In attempting to
gather it the leaves of the flower fell off in her hand. "It is the
same with men," said her father, who had been watching her. "In youth
we resemble the rose newly opened, but our life fades like the rose.
Almost before it is matured, it passes away. Do not pride yourself, my
dear child, upon the beauty of the body. It is vain and fragile. Aim
rather at beauty of soul and true piety, which will never wither."

One day towards evening time the old man climbed a ladder to pluck some
apples, while Mary stood below with a basket to hold them.

"How cold," said James, "this autumn wind is as it whistles over the
stubble fields and plays with the yellow leaves and my white hairs. I
am in my autumn, my dear child, as you will also be some day. Try to
grow like this excellent apple tree, which produces beautiful fruit and
in great abundance. Try to please the Master of the great garden which
is called the world."

On another day Mary was sowing seed for the following spring. "The day
will come," said her father, "when we shall be put in the ground, as
you are putting these seeds. But let us console ourselves, my dear
Mary. As soon as the corn is enfolded in the earth, it is animated. It
springs from the earth in the form of a beautiful flower, and rises
thus triumphantly from the place where it was buried. So also shall we
rise one day from our tombs with splendour and magnificence. When you
follow me to the tomb, my dear child, do not mourn for me, but think of
the future. In the flowers which you will plant on my grave, try to see
the image of the resurrection and immortal life."

CHAPTER X.

A FATHER'S LAST WORDS.

The winter had now set in with threatenings of severity. Already the
mountain and valley round about the farm were covered with deep snow.
The weakness which old James had been feeling for some time now
culminated in a severe illness. Obtaining her father's consent, Mary
asked a physician from a neighbouring village to visit him. The doctor
came to see James and prescribed for him. Full of foreboding, Mary
followed him to the door to ask him if he had any hope of her father's
recovery. To this the physician replied that the old man was in no
immediate danger, but that he suffered from a disease which would make
his recovery as an old man very improbable. It was with difficult