'Twas a beautiful day in the late fall and the roadside was lined with the
late asters and goldenrod. The sun was shining so brightly and the sky was
as blue as a New Hampshire sky could be, yet the girl, walking along the
winding, climbing road, saw none of them. The little brook by the roadside
whispered and chattered as it ran along, yet she did not hear; a few late
birds still twittered to her from the trees, but she did not notice; a
chipmunk called to her from a dead tree by the roadside, but she paid not
the least attention. She was alone with her thoughts and they were far
from pleasant.
How different it all seemed from what it had seemed six months before!
Then she had stood in the office of a great doctor in Philadelphia and
heard him say to her father, "Unless you leave the city at once and go
where there is pure air and simple food and real quiet, there is no help
for you."
The father had looked at the doctor for a moment in silence and then
answered, "Well, if that is the case, I am sorry, for I cannot leave the
city. My business needs me; Katherine is in college and she must be here.
I shall stay."
But with flashing eyes the girl had stepped to the doctor and said,
"Father is mistaken, doctor. His business can do without him and there is
no need at all why he should stay here for me. There is a dear little old
place in the hills of New Hampshire that belongs to us, where grandfather
used to live. We can go there and have all the things that you have said
he must have. You may leave the matter with me. We shall be out of the
city within two weeks."
Then turning to her father she had put her arms about his neck and said,
"Of course we can go, daddy, for what is college and money and friends
compared with your health? Gladly will I give them up for you. We shall
have a wonderful time there in the hills--just you and mother and I."
So they had come. Then it was early in the spring and the country was
beginning to show green. Into the little old farmhouse under the hill they
moved. Of course there were no electric lights, and no telephones, and no
faucets out of which the water could be drawn. But there were the quaint
old candle holders on the big mantels; there was the fireplace so large
that a log could be drawn into it; there was a well in the yard with water
as cold as ice. And outside the home--oh, there were the most wonderful
things to see. The trailing arbutus trailed everywhere; the lady slippers
grew even in the front dooryard. The old trees in the yard were soon
filled with nesting birds; the apple and pear trees in bloom were a sight
never to be forgotten.
So the days fled by and the little family under the hill were so happy to
see the color coming back to the face of the sick one and the smile once
more on his face. Katherine loved it all--the home--the flowers--the
mountains and even the quiet of the little hamlet.
Then the summer had come and with it the stream of visitors who come
every year to the New Hampshire mountains. Within a short distance of the
home were large hotels, and the guests soon learned of the cool water in
the well in front of the house; of the father who was such a pleasant
companion; of the pretty girl who could sing, and climb, and play so well.
So there had been picnics, and parties, and auto rides, and the summer had
fled.
And when the people had gone, there were the wonderful colors in the
trees, the gorgeous sunsets in the sky, the fun of the harvest time and
still the life in the country was full of wonder and satisfaction.
But now--oh, now the days had begun to grow cold, the trees were bare, the
birds had flown to the south, and her friends had all gone away. Here and
there a family was left in the farmhouses that dotted the little, winding
road but none of them were people for whom she cared. And so as the days
had come and gone, there had crept into the heart of the girl a loneliness
that would not be forced down, a longing that she could not stifle, a
dissatisfaction that grew with the days.
How could she pass the long winter nights that were ahead? How could she
stay away from the friends who were gathering at the college? How could
she live without her piano? How could she keep a smile so that the dear
ones at home would not see how unhappy she was becoming? The house seemed
so big and bare; the trees in the yard seemed to sigh instead of sing; the
way ahead seemed full of blackness. She longed for all that had gone; she
longed for her friends, especially the one who had been her ideal during
her college days; she longed to run back to him for always.
But on this October morning, she had risen early to keep the quiet hour
before the rest were up. Usually she read in the gospels, but this
morning her Bible opened to the Psalms and she read, "I will lift up mine
eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the
Lord who made heaven and earth." She stopped and looked from the window at
Mt. Kearsarge in the distance.
Then she read again, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence
cometh my help." "Ah!" said the girl, "I need help. God knows I need help.
I wonder if there is any help for me. 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the
hills from whence cometh my help.' Perhaps if I should go out into the
hills for the day, God would help me. I think I will try it."
To the mother she had said, "I think I should like to go for a long walk
to-day if you do not mind. I feel like having a tramp," and then with
lunch box in hand and book under her arm, she had started.
As long as father and mother could see, she had smiled and waved to them,
but when the turn in the road had come, the light faded from her eyes and
her problem was still before her. The night before had been endless, yet
there were longer ones to come. No wonder she saw no sunshine, heard no
bird and saw no brook as she walked along the country road.
On and on she went; mile after mile was put behind her, till the sun was
high in the heaven and she was weary and hungry. Then a sudden turn in the
road brought her to the foot of a little lake--one of those mountain lakes
that make New Hampshire so beautiful. All around it were hills; the water
was very, very blue and its surface was as calm as could be. A
moss-covered stone was very near and the girl sank beside it and, leaning
her head on her hand, she looked at the quiet waters.
"Ah!" she said to herself, "how I wish my life were as calm as the lake.
One would never dream that it ever were rough and troubled. I wish God
could send peace to me as He sends it to the little lake."
Her eyes wandered to the shores and then to the hills about the lake. How
beautiful the tall pines and spruces were! How fragrant the resinous
balsams! How bleak and cold the trees with no leaves!
Then her eyes turned to the top of the hills when suddenly--it seemed as
if by magic--there stood out before her, as if outlined in the sky, the
giant face of a man. What could it be? Had it been carved there? How
strong and noble the face seemed to be! How had it come to be there at the
very top of the hill? Then she remembered a story she had heard when first
she had come to the valley. This must be the "Old Man of the Mountain."
For centuries and centuries he had stood here guarding the little lake.
When the wonder of finding the Great Stone Face had passed by, she studied
it. The forehead was high and the face of noble mien. The mouth showed
much of strength. It was a face one would like to see often. God had put
it there--the God who made the heaven and earth. Then there came to her
mind again the verse of the morning, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the
hills from whence cometh my help." Perhaps the Old Man of the Mountain
could help her. He had stood here for years and years. He must know what
it meant to be weary with the long days and the longer nights. He must
have seen the multitude pass by and still leave him in the mountains.
Perhaps he would understand how lonely and full of unrest she was.
So leaning her head on the moss-covered stone, she said dreamily, "Old Man
of the Mountains, if you were I and were longing to go back to your work
and your friends, if you were afraid of the long winter that is coming, if
you had a duty to do right here when you longed to be there, if you had a
father who needed you and a mother who is brave as can be, and still there
burned within you the longing to get back to the others, what would you
do? Are you never weary with it all? Do you never long to run away from
your task that God has given you to do? Are you never discontented? Oh,
Old Man of the Mountain, if you were I and had my burden to carry, what
would you do?"
A silence was everywhere as she listened for his answer. Not a bird sang,
not a ripple crossed the lake. For a moment she watched the face--then
another, and then she was sure that she saw the face begin to relax. A
sign of a twinkle came across the great stone eyes and the lips smiled as
there came to her heart this answer:
"Oh, little girl from the city with a burden to carry! What would I do if
I had a father who was surely growing strong and a mother who had smiled
through the days of the sickness? What would I do if I longed to go back
to the life of pleasure and happiness when my duty lay here? What would I
do if I had forgotten the books that might be read during the long winter
nights for which there had been no time in the city; the lessons of
patience and loyalty that might be learned in doing the hard thing; the
happiness of really being needed? What would I do if I were you and were
lonely and discouraged and heartsick?
I would be true, for there are those that trust me;
I would be pure, for there are those who care;
I would be strong, for there is much to suffer;
I would be brave, for there is much to dare.
I would be friend of all--the foe, the friendless;
I would be giving, and forget the gift;
I would be humble, for I know my weakness;
I would look up, and laugh, and love, and lift.[A]
"Aye, little girl from the city, I would go back into the little home
under the hill with all its comfort, and home-likeness, and wealth of
love, and I would look up to God for help; I would laugh at the hard
things and help them to vanish from sight; I would love the dear ones who
are dearer to you than life itself; and I would lift, not only their
burden, but that of others who need you in this beautiful valley."
Slowly the face was again set into the lines that others saw and the head
of the girl dropped deeper into the moss. For a long time there was no
sign that she had heard. Then she lifted a face, full of light, to that of
the Old Man of the Mountain.
"Thank you, my friend," she said. "I have lifted my eyes unto the hills
and help has come. I will go back to the little white house and, with
God's help, I will look up, and I will laugh, and I will love, and I will
lift."
So she ate her lunch by the calm, little mountain lake and the tiny
breezes whispered in her ears. Then she walked again the winding road that
led down to the home. But the sky was blue and full of beauty; the birds
heard an answering call; the little brook gave her to drink, and the
chipmunk found on his stump a little piece of the cake from the box. Her
face was smiling and her heart full of courage, for she had looked unto
the hills--and God had answered.
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[A] Poem by Harold Arnold Walter.