78 THE STORY OF A MOTHER.

away with your child : he strides faster than the wind, and never
brings back what he has taken away.”

“Only tell me which way he has gone,” said the mother.
‘** Tell me the way, and I will find him.”

“IT know him,” said the woman in the black garments ; “ but
before I tell you, you must sing me all the songs that you have
sung toyourchild. I love those songs; I have heard them before.
tam Night, and I saw your tears when you sang them.”

“T will sing them all, all!” said the mother. “But do not
detain me, that I may overtake him, and find my child.”

But Night sat dumb and still. Then the mother wrung her
hands, and sang and wept. And there were many songs, but
yet more tears, and then Night said, “ Go to the right into the
dark fir wood ; for I saw Death take that path with your little
child.”

‘Deep in the forest there was a cross road, and she did not
know which way to take. There stood a Blackthorn Bush, with
not a leaf nor a blossom upon it; for it was in the cold winter-
time, and icicles hung from the twigs.

“ Have you not seen Death go by, with my little child ?”

“Yes,” replied the Bush ; “ but I shall not tell you which way
he went unless you warm me on your bosom. I’m freezing to
death here, I’m turning to ice.”

And she pressed the Blackthorn Bush to her bosom, quite
close, that it might be well warmed. And the thorns pierced
into her flesh, and her blood oozed out in great drops. But the
Blackthorn shot out fresh green leaves, and blossomed in the
dark winter night : so warm is the heart of a sorrowing mother !
And the Blackthorn Bush told her the way that she should go.

Then she came to a great Lake, on which there was neither
ships nor boat. The Lake was not frozen enough to carry her,
nor sufficiently open to allow her to wade through, and yet she
must cross it if she was to find her child. Then she laid herself
down to drink the Lake ; and that was impossible for any one to
do, But the sorrowing mother thought that perhaps a miracle
might be wrought.

“No, that can never succeed,” said the Lake. “ Let us rather
see how we can agree. I’m fond of collecting pearls, and your
eyes are the two clearest I have ever seen: if you will weep them
out into me I will carry you over into the great greenhouse,
where Death lives and cultivate flowers and trees ; each of these
is a human life.” ;

“Oh, what would I not give to get my child!” said the afflicted
mother ; and she wept yet more, and her eyes fell into the depths
of the Lake, and became two costly pearls, But the Lake lifted
her up, as if she sat in a swing, and she was wafted to the oppo-
site shore, where stood a wonderful house, miles in length. One
could not tell if it was a mountain containing forests and caves,