the blue flower-第25章

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and　stony　road。　　But　it　was　not　afraid；　nor　discouraged；　for
it　said　to　itself：　　〃This　is　necessary。　　The　path　to　glory　is
always　rugged。　　Now　I　am　on　my　way　to　play　a　great　part　in　the
world。〃

But　the　hard　journey　was　nothing　compared　with　the
tribulation　and　distress　that　came　after　it。　　The　clay　was　put
into　a　trough　and　mixed　and　beaten　and　stirred　and　trampled。
It　seemed　almost　unbearable。　　But　there　was　consolation　in　the
thought　that　something　very　fine　and　noble　was　certainly
coming　out　of　all　this　trouble。　　The　clay　felt　sure　that；　if
it　could　only　wait　long　enough；　a　wonderful　reward　was　in
store　for　it。

Then　it　was　put　upon　a　swiftly　turning　wheel；　and　whirled
around　until　it　seemed　as　if　it　must　fly　into　a　thousand
pieces。　　A　strange　power　pressed　it　and　moulded　it；　as　it
revolved；　and　through　all　the　dizziness　and　pain　it　felt　that
it　was　taking　a　new　form。

Then　an　unknown　hand　put　it　into　an　oven；　and　fires　were
kindled　about　itfierce　and　penetratinghotter　than　all　the
heats　of　summer　that　had　ever　brooded　upon　the　bank　of　the
river。　　But　through　all；　the　clay　held　itself　together　and
endured　its　trials；　in　the　confidence　of　a　great　future。
〃Surely；〃　it　thought；　〃I　am　intended　for　something　very
splendid；　since　such　pains　are　taken　with　me。　　Perhaps　I　am
fashioned　for　the　ornament　of　a　temple；　or　a　precious　vase　for
the　table　of　a　king。〃

At　last　the　baking　was　finished。　　The　clay　was　taken　from
the　furnace　and　set　down　upon　a　board；　in　the　cool　air；　under　the
blue　sky。　　The　tribulation　was　passed。　　The　reward　was　at　hand。

Close　beside　the　board　there　was　a　pool　of　water；　not　very
deep；　nor　very　clear；　but　calm　enough　to　reflect；　with
impartial　truth；　every　image　that　fell　upon　it。　　There；　for
the　first　time；　as　it　was　lifted　from　the　board；　the　clay　saw
its　new　shape；　the　reward　of　all　its　patience　and　pain；　the
consummation　of　its　hopesa　common　flower…pot；　straight　and
stiff；　red　and　ugly。　　And　then　it　felt　that　it　was　not
destined　for　a　king's　house；　nor　for　a　palace　of　art；　because
it　was　made　without　glory　or　beauty　or　honour；　and　it　murmured
against　the　unknown　maker；　saying；　〃Why　hast　thou　made　me
thus？〃

Many　days　it　passed　in　sullen　discontent。　　Then　it　was
filled　with　earth；　and　somethingit　knew　not　whatbut
something　rough　and　brown　and　dead…looking；　was　thrust　into
the　middle　of　the　earth　and　covered　over。　　The　clay　rebelled
at　this　new　disgrace。　　〃This　is　the　worst　of　all　that　has
happened　to　me；　to　be　filled　with　dirt　and　rubbish。　　Surely　I
am　a　failure。〃

But　presently　it　was　set　in　a　greenhouse；　where　the
sunlight　fell　warm　upon　it；　and　water　was　sprinkled　over　it；
and　day　by　day　as　it　waited；　a　change　began　to　come　to　it。
Something　was　stirring　within　ita　new　hope。　　Still　it　was
ignorant；　and　knew　not　what　the　new　hope　meant。

One　day　the　clay　was　lifted　again　from　its　place；　and
carried　into　a　great　church。　　Its　dream　was　coming　true　after
all。　　It　had　a　fine　part　to　play　in　the　world。　　Glorious　music
flowed　over　it。　　It　was　surrounded　with　flowers。　　Still　it
could　not　understand。　　So　it　whispered　to　another　vessel　of
clay；　like　itself；　close　beside　it；　〃Why　have　they　set　me
here？　　Why　do　all　the　people　look　toward　us？〃　　And　the　other
vessel　answered；　〃Do　you　not　know？　　You　are　carrying　a　royal
sceptre　of　lilies。　　Their　petals　are　white　as　snow；　and　the
heart　of　them　is　like　pure　gold。　　The　people　look　this　way
because　the　flower　is　the　most　wonderful　in　the　world。　　And
the　root　of　it　is　in　your　heart。〃

Then　the　clay　was　content；　and　silently　thanked　its　maker；
because；　though　an　earthen　vessel；　it　held　so　great　a
treasure。





THE　　LOST　WORD


〃Come　down；　Hermas；　come　down！　　The　night　is　past。　　It　is　time
to　be　stirring。　　Christ　is　born　today。　　Peace　be　with　you　in
His　name。　　Make　haste　and　come　down！〃

　A　little　group　of　young　men　were　standing　in　a　street　of
Antioch；　in　the　dusk　of　early　morning；　fifteen　hundred　years
agoa　class　of　candidates　who　had　nearly　finished　their　years
of　training　for　the　Christian　church。　　They　had　come　to　call
their　fellow…student　Hermas　from　his　lodging。

Their　voices　rang　out　cheerily　through　the　cool　air。　　They
were　full　of　that　glad　sense　of　life　which　the　young　feel　when
they　have　risen　early　and　come　to　rouse　one　who　is　still
sleeping。　　There　was　a　note　of　friendly　triumph　in　their　call；
as　if　they　were　exulting　unconsciously　in　having　begun　the
adventure　of　the　new　day　before　their　comrade。

But　Hermas　was　not　asleep。　　He　had　been　waking　for　hours；
and　the　walls　of　his　narrow　lodging　had　been　a　prison　to　his
heart。　　A　nameless　sorrow　and　discontent　had　fallen　upon　him；　and
he　could　find　no　escape　from　the　heaviness　of　his　own　thoughts。

There　is　a　sadness　of　youth　into　which　the　old　cannot
enter。　　It　seems　unreal　and　causeless。　　But　it　is　even　more
bitter　and　burdensome　than　the　sadness　of　age。　　There　is　a
sting　of　resentment　in　it；　a　fever　of　angry　surprise　that　the
world　should　so　soon　be　a　disappointment；　and　life　so　early
take　on　the　look　of　a　failure。　　It　has　little　reason　in　it；
perhaps；　but　it　has　all　the　more　weariness　and　gloom；　because
the　man　who　is　oppressed　by　it　feels　dimly　that　it　is　an
unnatural　thing　that　he　should　be　tired　of　living　before　he
has　fairly　begun　to　live。

Hermas　had　fallen　into　the　very　depths　of　this　strange
self…pity。　　He　was　out　of　tune　with　everything　around　him。　　He
had　been　thinking；　through　the　dead　night；　of　all　that　he　had
given　up　when　he　left　the　house　of　his　father；　the　wealthy
pagan　Demetrius；　to　join　the　company　of　the　Christians。　　Only
two　years　ago　he　had　been　one　of　the　richest　young　men　in
Antioch。　　Now　he　was　one　of　the　poorest。　　The　worst　of　it　was
that；　though　he　had　made　the　choice　willingly　and　with　a　kind　of
enthusiasm；　he　was　already　dissatisfied　with　it。

The　new　life　was　no　happier　than　the　old。　　He　was　weary　of
vigils　and　fasts；　weary　of　studies　and　penances；　weary　of
prayers　and　sermons。　　He　felt　like　a　slave　in　a　treadmill。　　He
knew　that　he　must　go　on。　　His　honour；　his　conscience；　his
sense　of　duty；　bound　him。　　He　could　not　go　back　to　the　old
careless　pagan　life　again；　for　something　had　happened　within
him　which　made　a　return　impossible。　　Doubtless　he　had　found
the　true　religion；　but　he　had　found　it　only　as　a　task　and　a
burden；　its　joy　and　peace　had　slipped　away　from　him。

He　felt　disillusioned　and　robbed。　　He　sat　beside　his　hard
couch；　waiting　without　expectancy　for　the　gray　dawn　of　another
empty　day；　and　hardly　lifting　his　head　at　the　shouts　of　his
friends。

〃Come　down；　Hermas；　you　sluggard！　　Come　down！　　It　is
Christmas　morn。　　Awake；　and　be　glad　with　us！〃

〃I　am　coming；〃　he　answered　listlessly；　〃only　have　patience
a　moment。　　I　have　been　awake　since　midnight；　and　waiting　for
the　day。〃

〃You　hear　him！〃　said　his　friends　one　to　another。　　〃How　he
puts　us　all　to　shame！　　He　is　more　watchful；　more　eager；　than
any　of　us。　　Our　master；　John　the　Presbyter；　does　well　to　be
proud　of　him。　　He　is　the　best　man　in　our　class。〃

While　they　were　talking　the　door　opened　and　Hermas　stepped
out。　　He　was　a　figure　to　be　remarked　in　any　companytall；
broad…shouldered；　straight…hipped；　with　a　head　proudly　poised
on　the　firm　column　of　the　neck；　and　short　brown　curls
clustering　over　the　square　forehead。　　It　was　the　perpetual
type　of　vigorous　and　intelligent　young　manhood；　such　as　may　be
found　in　every　century　among　the　throngs　of　ordinary　men；　as
if　to　show　what　the　flower　of　the　race　should　be。　　But　the
light　in　his　eyes　was　clouded　and　uncertain；　his　smooth　cheeks
were　leaner　than　they　should　have　been　at　twenty；　and　there
were　downward　lines　about　his　mouth　which　spoke　of　desires
unsatisfied　and　ambitions　repressed。　　He　joined　his
companions　with　brief　greetings；a　nod　to　one；　a　word　to
another；and　they　passed　together　down　the　steep　street。

Overhead　the　mystery　of　daybreak　was　silently
transfiguring　the　sky。　　The　curtain　of　darkness　had　lifted
along　the　edge　of　the　horizon。　　The　ragged　crests　of　Mount
Silpius　were　outlined　with　pale　saffron　light。　　In　the　central
vault　of　heaven　a　few　large　stars　twinkled　drowsily。　　The
great　city；　still　chiefly　pagan；　l