The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1892-08-17

standing their language, and he soon
perceived that he would have to educate
himself anew. He learned the concise
language of the insects. A sound indi-
Gated a hundred different objects, fol-
lowing the infection of the voice and
the length of the note. Soon he lost the
habit of speaking the language Of his
race, so poor in spite of its wealth of
words. The way of living of his new
friends charmed him. He felt supreme
ly ignorant compared with them, and
resolved to go and study at their
schools.
He was more reserved in his relations
toward the moses and the pines. AS he
was not yet able to understand the Ian
guage of the blade of grass and of the
flowers, his ignorance caused certain
reserve in his intercourse with them.
But the forest did not eye him coldly.
1t understood that he was simple soul,
and that he held the most amiable inter-
course with the denizens of the wood.
No one hid from him. 1t often CHANGED
that he would surprise, at the end of
glade, butterfly ruffling the collar of a
/ her bashfulness, just enough to give
lessons to the young prince. She loving
ly taught him the language of perfume
and Of color. The purple corolla hailed
Simplicity on his awakening, the green
leaves told of their wild midnight
dances, the grasshopper confded to him
in whisper that he was madly in love
with the violet
Simplicity had chosen for his bosom
friend golden dragonfy, with a slen-
der waist and quivering wings. This
beauty was dreadful coquette; she
sported near him, seemed to call to him,
then flew lightly from his hand. The
| great trees, who saw these maneuvers,
rebuked her vigorously and solemnly
whispered that she would come to bad
end
Simplicity suddenly became restless.
The ladybug, who was the first to per-
ceive the sadness of her friend, gently
sought to win his confidence. He an
swered sadly that he was as happy as
ever. He rose now with the dawn, and
wandered through the glade until dusk.
He softly held back the branches,
searched the thicket and the shadows
formed by the leaves.
"What is our pupil seekingr' de-
manded the hawthorn of the moss.
The dragonfy, wondering at this de-
sertion of her lover, concluded that he
was mad for love of her. She came and
roguishly futtered about him; he did
not perceive her. The big trees had
judged her rightly; she consoled herself
quickly with the first butterfly at the
crossway.
The leaves were sad as they watched
the young prince, questioning each tuft
of grass and searching with an eager
eye the long avenues. They heard him
complain of the impenetrable thickness
of the brushwood, and they said, "Sim-
plicity has seen Flower-of- the Water"
the Undine of the spring.
Flower-o the Water was the child of
sunbeam and dewdrop.
She was so limpidly beautiful that the
kiss of lover would cause her death.
The perfume of her breath was so sweet
that kiss from her lips would cause
the death of her lover The forest knew
this, and with jealous care it hid its
adored child. 1t had given her as a
sanctuary a spring shaded by thick
cluster of trees. There, in the silence
and the shadow, Flower-of-the-W Water
glittered in the midst of her sisters.
Idly she foated with the tide, her small
feet half hidden by the ripples, her golden
head crowned with liquid pearls. Her
smile was the delight of the water lilies
and the gladioles. She was the soul of
the forest. She lived without care,
knowing naught of earth but her mother,
the dew, nor of the heavens, but the
sunbeam, her father. She knew herself
beloved by the ripple that Graded her,
by the branch that shaded her. She had
thousand wooers, but not one lover.
Flower the-Water was not ignorant
of the fact that she would die of love;
she was pleased with the thought, and
lived in the hope of such death.
Smilingly she awaited the well beloved.
One night, by the light of the stars,
Simplicity beheld her at the winding of
glade. He sought her during long
month, hoping to meet her behind every
tree trunk. Sometimes it seemed to
him that he saw her gliding through the
coppice; but he found only the great
shadows of the poplars, swayed by the
winds of heaven.
The forest became silent now; it mis-
trusted Simplicity 1t pressed low its
leaves, and threw dark shadows of night
on the young princes path. The danger
that threatened Flower-of-t he-Water
made it melancholy; it gave no more soft
caresses, no more loving prattle.
Undine came again to the glade, and
once more Simplicity beheld her. Wild
with longing, he pursued her. The
child, mounted on moonbeam, did not
hear the sound Of his footsteps. She flew
onward, light as feather floating in the
wind. Simplicity ran, but could not
overtake her. He wept bitterly-despair
filled his soul; but still he pressed on
ward, while the forest watched with
growing anxiety this insensate race. The
bushes barred his way; the thorns held
him i'll their sharp embrace, grimly ar
| l.. ~.