isa-normaladvance-1909-00066

Description:	66THE NOBMAL ADVANCEThe Bush and the FlowerDR. J. J. SCHLICHERIn a shady spot by the end of an old wallonce stood a hazel-bush. For years the bushhad stood there, firmly rooted now in the hardsoil, doing his duty like a man, honestly, without much sentiment or variation, becoming intime a little taller and a little stronger, blownback and forth in his narrow circuit by thewinds as they shifted from season to season.His outlook and movements were restricted bythe wall, and only when the breezes were kindand assisted him, and blew him past the endof it, did he gain a view of what was on theother side. Even then it was no full and generous view, for that which was most worthseeing there stood just beyond the wall and hehad to look sidewise and look at the right time,when the right wind blew, or he would not seeit at all.Poor hazel-bush! Year after year he stoodthere, half longing and half ignorant, and perhaps more than half indifferent, at times quitesatisfied with his side of the wall, sending downhis roots still farther into the hard soil, andfairly content with the annual shift from catkins to leaves, and from leaves to knotted clusters of dark brown nuts. And the wild flowerswith their long, slender, swaying stems andtheir maidenly faces might come and go with,the seasons change it was all one to him. Hewas doing his work as he had been created todo it, without regrets. People took from himeach year what he had produced, and sometimesthey praised him. The pale flowers beyond thewall, as he could well see, nodded their slenderforms in assent, occasionally they gazed athim more intently, but it was nothing to him,he could not help it, nor did he greatly care.Year after year they stood there, the hazel-bush on his side in his constant dress of green,and the pale, swaying flowers on their side, everchanging, ever showing new faces that tookthe place of those which fled with the lapse ofthe seasons. The same winds blew them pastthe end of the wall, and with every gust andevery swaying of their stems they came face toface with him. And the flowers with theirclear, thoughtful eyes, must have knownhim well, for they always had time to look athim, even when he had no time for them. Butthey kept their knowledge to themselves, andwhen they swayed back behind the wall theysmiled to each other in their silent, clear- eyedway, though it may have had no reference tothe bush whatever.One day a gust of wind blew from a newquarter, and one of the pale flowers becameseparated from her companions—it was theone that stood nearest the wall. She had neverappeared very different from the rest, onlypaler, perhaps, with a gaze of more penetratingtransparency. And even this may have been adelusion. The bush did not know for sure,and had never cared to find out. But now,when the darkness came on, his sleep was nolonger what it had been before. Many a timein his drearhs did he quiver uneasily and reachout his arcn-s blindly, for his visions were nolonger of catkins and green leaves and clustersof nuts. The lonely flower with its pale, transparent face, swaying low with its weight andlaboring hard to bear up when no longer supported by tbe united strength of her sisters—it made him rhrink and shiver and hate his ownsturdy vigor which lived in such ease and security.And presently the season changed. Wherehe had once- seen the flowers daily, the jealouswinds now rarely blew them his way. And theone lonely flower with the low-hanging head—he felt, if Ik could not see, that her bright facehad sunk assist the wall, and that the pitilesswind was claiE: dragging her petals back and
Source:	http://indstate.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/isuarchive/id/34096
Collection:	Indiana State University Archives

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