Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1900-03-23
AS THE PANsY NODDED.

make of old man Northrup, and, as for
old man Northrup, he didn't understand
the villagers, nor did he try. The towns
folk said the aged resident was a man
without a purpose and with knowing
wink would call him queer"
Long before, when folks then grown up
were babies, Northrup came to town un-
announced and unrecommended. Soon
the rumor spread that he was rich and
that he bad selected the town for his
country home because 1t was In the
midst of the'nature that he loved.
Back from the town on q sloping hill
side the stranger bought little plot and
the dreams of the gossips that he was to
build mansion were dissipated when
he erected there n little frame cottage
of two rooms. Then, when he bought
meager furniture OF the simplest sort,
the ones who had called him rich began
to doubt, until the village banker, who
measured the worth Of men by their
worldly goods, announced one day, "Mr.
Northrup Is 4 gentleman"
This was convincing, and thereafter
the new resident was looked upon as a
miser whose vagaries had led him from
the cities and who was content to live
his life out alone in the little cottage on
the hillside.
Years passed, and "A1r. Northrup, gen.
tleman," became known to the younger
generation only as old man Northrup.
The children stunned his house, though
he never discouraged them. He seemed
content in his solitude and appeared to
find companions in the growing things
about him. He would raise a little gar
den to the back Of his house in the spring
time and would divide his time between
this and the bed OF fowers-carefully
cared for flowers-which grew just under
his window.
Now and then some one from the viii
lnge would call on the old man as a mat
ter Of duty, but their visits would be cut
short.
"A pleasant day." the visitor would
venture.
yes" old man Northrup would an
swer. ITS fine weather for my flowers"
The village parson, a truly good man,
one day concluded that old man Northrup
needed in his closing days the solace OF
the religion he preached and that il the
old man would not come to his church
he would 90 to him. This was the crys-
utilization Of the reflections of a score OF
years. and when the parson finally had
made up his mind to devote himself to
the spiritual welfare OF the recluse he
went in haste TO the old mans cottage.
The psrson stopped by the gate and
rested his elbows on the crumbling stone
wall that surrounded the little house. II
was Il bright day in May and all nature
seemed aglow. II was just the day for
old man Northrup and his flowers, and,
as the pHrson had expected, the recluse
was there, with a sprinkling pot, water
ing now one plant, now another, with a
care that seemed reverential The par
son spoke, and the bent figure OF the old
man Strengthened. Something like a
frown appeared on his forehead as he
recognized his visitor. but be cheerily
babe him enter.
Il have come" said the parson solemn
ly, with a message from the world.
The world misses you, Mr.. Northrup, and
the little part OF it represent asks that
you return, il only for an hour each
Sabbath. Won't you. sir, do us the hon
or to worship with US once a week? The
villagers-all OF them-would welcome
you"
The old man only shook his head sadly.
the parson thought.
THE religion" the good man went on
would comfort you now that your end
is near The tomb is for us all, but its
cruel outlines are softened when we
know there is a world beyond and that
we have earned our residence there"
Old man Northrup pointed to the door
step, just beside the bed OF flowers The
parson sat down. Then the old man
knelt at the parsons feet. turned to the
flower bed and tenderly lifted the droop-
ing carnation blossom that was nearest
TO his visitor.
"The tomb is for us all, well you say,
parson," he said slowly, and religion is
the solace OF a tired soul. Ny soul. sir
has been weary for many years, but it
has had its solace.
What is religion, parson? Is il not
TO worship the things we love? ! love
my flowers. and | worship them, for they
are more than flowers to me. Like you,
| believe in another life, and, like you,
have tried 10 deserve one. This flower
parson. is it only a flower to you?"
1T was no doubt n pretty flower be-
fore it withered," said the minister; but
l hardly understand"
"None OF them do" said the old man
with a sigh; land that is why | left the
world. They laugh when tell them that
these flowers are the spirits of the
friends who have gone before. They say
that | am crazy because my dead
friends return to me as flowers, and yet
they ask me to believe that they exist in
some other sphere.
See this great pansy, with It's bright,
smiling face? See it nod to me in rec
ognitionE That, parson, is my little girl,
the only one | ever had, who died more
than 80 years ago. Each year through
all the long half century she has return
ed to me in pansy form to tell me that
she Is waiting somewhere, some distant
where, for me to come. She is faithful
to me. and yet you ask me to give her
up. Parson, | have my solace."
The old man bowed his head, and when
the parson spoke he did not answer.
Then the parson, fearing to disturb him
In his reverie, went his way.
AS the bright day wore on a passerby
CHANGED to look over the stone wall The
birds We're chirping in the trees, a gentle
breeze swayed the foliage and the slant
ing rays of the lowering sun cast a mel
low sheen over the scene before him.
There was the bed OF flowers, and across
1t PROSTATE figure.
Old man Northrup was dead, and the
pansy, dropping a little with the dying
daV was poddinO and III. IL