Page:The Pacific Monthly vol. 14.djvu/99



A DREAM

By V lasta HouaeK

BLUSTERING ]\rarch had given away before April's tears, which in turn were dried by the persistently sunny nature of May. It was May that coaxled a green carpet from Mother Earth, that persuaded the flowers to unfold their soft petals; that clothed the naked trees in rustling leaves| that encouraged the birds in home-making among the leafy bowers. ]\: did all this, but it was June, beautiful June, that with richest touch, tunetl earth and all creation to the one grand, perfect chord; that of life and love. "■"'■

An old man, feeling its subtle power, was tempted out of doors for the first time in many weeks, and seating himself under a spreading maple, watched the dancing sunbeams at his feet, and listened to the leaves above, as they whispered to him of other days.

Pretty soon the snowy head began to nod drowsily, and the Goddess of Dreams, touching him with her magic wand, led him into a happy field, where the birds were singing and flowers nodded him welcome as they gaily rocked in the breeze. He looked wonderingly at the beauty around him.

"This is what Father Time calls Childhood," said she, smiling tenderly at him, as he once more trod the paths of those bygone years. Hardened by severer things, he did not feel the pebbles under foot that hurt him when, as a child, he had passed that wa}^ nor did he feel the little thorns among the flowers he plucked, and she did not tell him of them.

"Father Time next brought you here," she continued, as they entered the field adjoining. "This is called Youth." He noticed the flowers here, although not so bright, Avere of a richer, deeper color, while the birds' warbling had a note of thoughtfulness in it.

They came to a steam of dark, turbulent water, and as they crossed over, some vague, half-forgotten memory seemed to bother the old man.

"That is the stream of Disappointment," said the Goddess of Dreams, in an- swer to his backward glance. "The first time you crosssed it- was not bridged, and being very deep and cold, you were almost overcome, but since then you have bridged it over with Faith, and this bridge seems to grow stronger and firmer each succeeding year."

The path seemed to get rough and more stony as they passed on, and he began to notice weeds growing among the flowers, and that a careless step brought him in contact with the thorns and prickly leaves of the same; and as he gathered the bright flowers of Ambition and Success, he found it impossible to pluck the same without getting in the sombre ones of Care, Sorrow, and Regret. He held a mixed bouquet, and in gazing at the bright blossoms, he seemed to forget the sombre ones, and, Goddess of Dreams, did you remind him of the pangs they had caused him, when, as a young man, he had in reality gathered them so many, many years ago? Soon they came to a single rose bush, weighted down with its burden of white, and sinking upon his knees, he pressed the nearest flower to his lips, while his companion laughed softly.

"That is the flower of Love, which you know so well," she said, and the flowers he already held in his hand drooped for an instant, but he did not cast them away, and thereafter the flower of Love was added to those he already held, and shed its fragrance about them, as they continued their journey through the Past.

He soon began to tire. "Let us rest here for a while," lie begged of the Goddess of Dreams, but she shook her head. "Father Time would not hear of it ; we are not half through ]\[iddle Age yet; wait until you reach the end of your journey, then you can rest; you have but one more field to cross," and with a sigh