quickly sold out his basketful of produce to the early risers of
the town; but afterward, on looking around for his neighbor, was
surprised to learn that he had not yet appeared. He waited a while,
and then, fearing the man had met with some disaster—for the two were
friends—started back to find him; and about midway of the road he found
him, sure enough, fallen down into a pit that he had not seen, because,
instead of looking well to the ground that was close around him, he
was, by means of his great lantern, gazing far ahead.
But, though he could not get out, happily none of his bones were
broken; and when his friend had torn a rail from a fence near by and
thrown it to him, he managed to clamber up the side and escape from his
trap. Yet his butter and eggs were spoiled and his lantern damaged,
and, as he was badly bruised by the fall, he begged his neighbor to
remain with him, saying:
“There is nothing left for me but, by your help, to hobble back to
where I started from as best I can.”
[Illustration]
And so it came to pass that he who was the better furnished and more
confident at the start, came out a good deal worse off at the end.
* * * * *
Not always does he who can see the farthest travel most safely; and a
lowly talent well improved may gain more than a lofty one wasted or
misapplied.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE CAT AND THE TIGER.
A CAT that was a pet in a farmer’s family, understanding from the talk
of the children that a show of wild animals had come to the neighboring
village, stole off one morning to see it, and, creeping in under the
edge of the great canvas tent, proceeded to walk around the ring and
look in at the cages.
She had not gone far when she came opposite to the tiger’s cage, and,
looking up, saw there a creature of her own species so powerful,
so immense, and withal so beautifully marked, that she was lost in
admiration and felt almost ready to bow down and worship it.
[Illustration]
“Great king of our race,” she cried, “I admire, and am willing to obey
you!”
But the tiger, insensible to her praise, replied with contempt:
“You poor little mouse-eating creature, do you come here to claim
relationship with one so great and strong as I am?”
At this the cat, quickly regaining her composure, answered:
“If your strength is so great that it must be restrained, and causes
you to be shut up where it is only a torment to you as you walk up and
down before the bars of your cage, then I would rather be as I am, weak
and little, but suited to my place in the farmer’s kitchen.”
* * * * *
The qualities which make men great often make them miserable while they
see around them those of lowlier station, and humbler abilities, more
happy and useful than themselves.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHARITY.
A CERTAIN rich man appointed an hour when the poor people of his city
had permission to call at his house and ask for charity. When the hour
arrived, the man sat in his parlor, while his servant stood at the door
to question those who called and report what they said to his master.
The first one who came was a day-laborer. He was willing to dig or to
carry, or to work at anything he could find, but he could find nothing.
To him the rich man sent a piece of silver.
The second one was a sailor. Only a few weeks before, he had sailed,
full of hope, out of the harbor; but his ship was wrecked in a storm,
and he saved only the clothes that covered him. To him also was sent a
piece of silver.
The one who came next had seen better days; he had owned the little
house he lived in, with enough out at interest beside to keep the wolf
from its door. But misfortune had robbed him of all, and now he was in
want. To him were sent two silver pieces.
After him came a mechanic who long ago had worked for the rich man’s
father, and helped to build the beautiful house that his father once
lived in. To him the rich man sent a piece of gold.
Then came an old man who was still erect and vigorous, but with silvery
locks and flowing beard. In his younger days he had been a merchant. He
well remembered the rich man’s father when he was a merchant too, and
told of his honor and influence, and spoke feelingly of the favors he
had often done him. To him the rich man sent two golden pieces.
When the next person called, the servant came in and told his master
that this one seemed to be the most needy of all. He was bowed down
with age and leaning upon a staff, and had travelled a long and weary
journey from the place where the rich man’s father was born, and used
to live before he came to the city and made his fortune.
[Illustration]
“Your master’s father and I were boys together,” he said, “and, in
truth, I was a near relation to him, and so I am to your master. But
sickness and misfortune have left me without bread to eat, or a place
to lay my head.”
But when the rich man heard this sad story, he looked at his watch,
saying:
“The hour is past that I appointed to listen to the poor. Go tell the
man he is too late; and when he is gone, shut the door, and bolt it
after him.”
* * * * *
If we will analyze our motive in giving, and take from it all that
issues of pride, we shall, many a time, be astonished to find how
little is left.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE DAY-LABORERS.
A CERTAIN land-owner called two of his hired servants early in the
morning and sent them out to work in his field. On the way there one of
them said to himself:
“Though I do not care for my master, I care for the wages he will pay
me; therefore I will do a good day’s work, not for him, but for myself.”
But the other man said:
“Though I take wages, my master’s profit is dearer to me than my own;
therefore the work that I do is not so much for myself as for him.”
[Illustration]
So the men went out into the field to do their master’s bidding. And
while they labored there the sun rose up high above them, and his
fierce rays beat down on their heads. Yet they did not rest from their
labors, but toiled on until he passed through the heavens and began
slowly to descend again. And in the evening, after he had sunk below
the horizon, they came and stood before their master to give account of
the day.
The first one said:
“I have ploughed deep in your field and cast out the heavy stones that
were buried there.”
The second one said:
“I have gathered up the stones, and carried them to the edge of the
field, and set up a strong fence around it.”
[Illustration]
And as the master looked at their soiled and toil-worn garments and
their sunburned arms and hands, he knew that what they told him was
true. But when he looked in their faces, on one was the expression of
coldness and on the other was the expression of love. Then he gave to
each of them his wages, but the one who loved him he called into his
house, to be with him and wait on him continually.
* * * * *
The work brings the wages, but the motive the reward.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE ARTIST’S ANSWER.
A MAN who had accompanied an artist around his studio, admiring his
pictures, exclaimed,
“What an easy and privileged life is yours, calling forth and putting
into visible shape such beautiful forms from day to day! You give
delight to others, it is true, but surely the largest share must remain
for yourself.”
Said the artist,
“Name to me some object in nature that you admire.”
“This rose,” replied the other, “which you have placed as a model on
your table.”
“We will take that,” said the artist. “Now, what is its history? First,
the parent slip was laid in the ground, and at once began its struggle
for life. It put forth tender roots, doubtful of the result, but the
soil received them kindly, and it lived. Then the tiny stalk appeared
above, and at length an embryo bud. But suppose the sun had scorched
this bud or the storm destroyed it? They destroyed many another, yet it
was spared, and at last opened in full bloom as you see it here.
“Now, if the plant that bore it could speak, what would it say?
Something like this: ‘The rose you admire did not spring up uncalled,
like a beautiful thought, but is the result of slow development.
I could not but labor to bring it forth, for such was the work
appointed me. But the throes of effort were needed, and, now that
it is perfected, my delight is not in looking at it as a brilliant
flower, but as the fruit of my labor, hoping it may fill its place
among beautiful things and accomplish that for which it was called into
being.’
“So, my friend,” continued the artist, turning to his companion, “if
you think that these pictured forms which you delight in were of easy
creation, springing up spontaneous like a passing emotion, you have in
what the flowers says my answer.”
* * * * *
Each beautiful work costs labor, but how much only he knows whose hands
have formed it.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE HEMLOCK AND THE SUGAR-MAPLE.
A SUGAR-MAPLE tree and a hemlock grew close together, high up on the
side of a mountain. All summer they were, alike, covered with green,
so that they could hardly be distinguished one from the other. But as
autumn approached, the maple put on gayer colors. Branch after branch
changed to orange, and crimson, and gold, until the whole tree seemed
to be robed in these gorgeous tints. Seeing this, the hemlock said
discontentedly to its neighbor:
“Why am I not beautiful like you? While your branches are growing
brighter every day, mine do not change at all, unless it be to a duller
hue. I am tired of this stale, old-fashioned green.”
But the maple made no answer.
[Illustration]
A little while after this there was a change in the weather. Heavy gray
clouds covered the sky. A cold rain came on, and the sun was not seen
for several days. And now the leaves of the maple began to wither and
lose their bright hues, and as the gusts of wind shook them they fell
in showers from the branches. Then the maple, looking down upon them,
said to the hemlock:
“You envied my beauty, but where is it now? See the remains of it lying
scattered over the ground! My branches are being left bare for the long
winter’s cold, while yours are still clothed with their thick, warm
foliage.”
* * * * *
He whose good fortune we covet has also, linked with it, some
compensating evil which we would not be willing to take off his hands.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
BREAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL.
A MAN who was strolling through the country for his own enjoyment
came to the top of a hill, where he stopped to admire the view. While
he was standing there a laborer with pick and shovel on his shoulder
and dinner-basket on his arm passed by. The man spoke to him and the
laborer answered civilly, but, hurrying on, was soon out of sight.
After viewing the prospect from the hilltop, the man proceeded on his
way until he came to a waterfall on the edge of a wood. Here he rested
for a good while watching the stream break into foam and spray as it
flowed over the rocks into the deep basin below.
From here he proceeded along the lonely road, wondering what beautiful
object would next appear, when presently he saw, spread out before him,
a lake of blue water with bushes and wild flowers growing around its
edge. It was almost noon by the time he was satisfied with gazing on
this charming scene.
Then he started on his ramble again, but had not gone far when he spied
the laborer who passed him earlier in the day, digging away with his
pick and shovel in a rocky field beside the road. Leaning against the
fence, the pleasure-seeker stopped, and said:
“Rather hard work grubbing at these stones?”
“You are right,” replied the laborer, “but nothing else will bring them
out of the ground.”
“This is a pleasant country to look at,” continued the other, “but not
to make your living out of, I should think.”
“You’d say so if you tried it. I suppose you’re a stranger about here?”
“Yes; this is my first visit, and I’m just sauntering along feasting
on the beautiful view. You people who live in the country don’t half
appreciate its charms.”
[Illustration]
Here the laborer, looking up at the sky and seeing the sun just over
his shoulder, dropped his shovel, and, going to a shady spot beside
a spring, where he had deposited his dinner-basket, opened it and
began to eat. His new acquaintance looked on until he had seen slice
after slice of bread and meat emerge from the clean white napkin and
disappear, when he said:
“My friend, would you mind sparing me a bit? This walk has made me
hungry.”
“Well, now,” replied the laborer, “you’ve been feasting on the view all
the morning, while I’ve been grubbing at the stones. If I give you my
dinner, then you’ll have two feasts, and I’ll have none.”
* * * * *
If we cultivate our taste for the beautiful, to the neglect of earning
our bread, we cannot expect those who deny themselves this luxury, to
supply our needs when we come to want.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE HARPER.
A HARPER stood before the door of a house and played a number of tunes
without seeming to attract the attention of any one within until he
played a sad and plaintive air, when an upper window opened and a hand
reached out and dropped a coin into the hat that he held beneath.
From this house he went to another, and played the same air; but no
notice was taken of him until he changed from it to a more cheerful
tune, when a piece of money was again thrown to him.
After this he was careful to note down in a little book that he carried
what sort of music pleased the inmates of the different houses in his
round; and whenever he selected a new tune, it was always with some
special hearers in view, to whom he went and played it as soon as it
was learned. In this way he was kept busy from day to day, and by means
of his harp earned a good living.
Now, although he played a variety of tunes to please many different
hearers, he had strong preferences of his own. There were a few of his
pieces that he loved better than all the rest, and at the houses where
these were played his music was at its best, because he played it out
of his heart.
So, one day, as he was trudging along with his harp on his back, he
said to himself:
“A portion of my work is a joy and delight to me, but the rest is
labor and toil. Why should I not play that music only that I love, and
to those alone who can appreciate it? In it lies not only my chief
pleasure, but my real power as well. I am resolved henceforth to adopt
this plan.”
[Illustration]
So he gave up all but the few tunes in which he himself delighted,
and played only at the houses where these had been enjoyed. But in a
little while he noticed that he was not welcomed at these houses as he
used to be, and the cause (though he was loath to acknowledge it) was
not hidden from him. His favorite airs, by their sameness and constant
repetition, had ceased to stir his own heart as they once did; hence
his music had lost its fervor, and with this its power over the
hearts of others. Then he said to himself:
“The plan which necessity imposed on me was better than my own. Its
discords tended to heighten its harmonies. Experience having taught me
this, I will now return to that plan.”
So he took up all his old pieces, practising them over again, and
playing them, as he used to do, from door to door. And in thus doing
(mingling the bitter with the sweet) he soon prospered again.
* * * * *
In a higher state of being we shall be able to sustain the purest joys
uninterruptedly. But here, that we may only taste of them, our joy must
alternate with sorrow—our pleasure, with pain.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE UNAPPRECIATED GIFT.
A HUSBANDMAN was at work in his field, earning his living by the sweat
of his brow, when there came a man carrying a young tree in his hand,
which he planted at one side of the field, saying:
“Give this the space that it needs, let it spread and grow, and wait
patiently: in due time its fruit and shade will repay you;” having said
which, he departed.
The husbandman heard the man’s words, but went on with his labor from
day to day without much regarding them. The tree remained where it had
been planted, putting out new branches and growing higher and stronger.
But after a time strange doubts and suspicions concerning the tree
entered the husbandman’s mind. As it took up more ground, he looked on
it grudgingly, and said to himself:
“This is not a fruit tree at all, but a thorn. If I let it stand, it
will send up its evil shoots all over my field.”
Then, taking his axe in his hand, at one stroke he severed the stalk
from the roots.
After this the seasons came and went as they ever had done. The
husbandman sowed in the spring and reaped in the harvest. And so he
continued to do from year to year, until his labors began to tell upon
his strength, and he felt stealing upon him the infirmities of an old
man. His field still yielded its crop, but was bare and sunny, without
a sheltered spot in which he could sit down and rest.
It happened one day after hours of toil that he sank exhausted, and
slept even under the burning rays of the sun. In his sleep he dreamed
that he was sitting in the shade. Over him green branches were spread.
They were loaded with fruit, which hung so near the ground that he put
forth his hand as he sat, and plucked and ate. Birds were also singing
in the branches, and a cool breeze passed through them, fanning his
brow. He said:
“Surely these have been growing, and their shadows deepening, to cover
my head and refresh me in my old age.”
[Illustration]
As he spoke suddenly the man who had long ago appeared to him again
stood before him, saying:
“Such would have been the tree that I planted on this spot had you not,
in unbelief and self-will, cut it down.”
The husbandman awoke from his sleep and found it was only a dream, and
that he was still lying alone and unsheltered under the burning rays of
the sun.
* * * * *
Not recognizing the Sender, we refuse the gift, to bewail our folly
when it is too late.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE WORN-OUT TEAM.
TWO horses, a bay and a gray, were bred on the same farm. Being
nearly of an age and about equal in size, they were mated in harness,
and, working well together, were kept as a pair. They went to the
plough, the harrow, and the hay-wagon season after season. In this
close companionship there grew up something of an attachment between
them, although they differed in disposition. The gray was patient and
uncomplaining, while the bay, though quite as good a worker, was not of
so good a temper.
[Illustration]
The seasons came and went. In the spring they toiled together turning
up the heavy sod, in the autumn hauling in great loads of hay and
grain, until at length, as years passed by, their bulky forms began
to shrink and ribs and thigh-bones to appear. More than this, the
gray lifted one hind leg higher than formerly, giving a hint of the
string-halt, and the bay panted so violently after a short journey as
to suggest a thought of the heaves. But they had done their share of
work, and the farmer was not the man to sell them off now to some hard
fate: they were allowed to stand in the stable or given lighter tasks,
while a pair of young horses, that had come on in the mean while, were
put to the heavy work about the farm.
One summer day, while the old horses were resting in their stalls, the
hay-wagon came in with a load from the field. As it drew near the barn
the farmer’s son shouted to encourage his young team up the rise that
led on to the barn-floor, and the old pair heard them, as they entered,
pounding overhead.
“That is what we used to do,” said the bay, “until they put the colts
in our place.”
“We never thought then of getting old and past work,” said the gray.
“But we’ve come to it now.”
“Many a heavy load have we hauled up that rise before them.”
“Yes, I think of it often,” said the bay, “and of something else too: I
think of that hard hill over across the bridge. I was not always good
to you when we were climbing up that.”
“You always pulled your full share, though.”
“But I needn’t have put back my ears and snapped at you angrily every
few steps.”
“Let that go; think no more of it,” said the gray.
“And not only the hill do I remember,” continued the bay, “but many a
hot day on the road, while you were doing your best, I jerked in the
harness and jeered at you because my nose happened to be a few inches
ahead.”
“Think of the pleasant trots we had together, instead,” persisted the
gray—“the gambols in the clover-field, and the rolls in the sand down
beside the creek. As for the rest, they’re past and forgiven; let them
be forgotten.”
“You may forgive them,” said the bay, “but I can’t forgive them myself.
And now, while I stand here by your side, both of us grown old, they
come back and worry me—yes, more than ever the heavy loads did, or even
the driver’s whip.”
* * * * *
Youth is the time of anticipation and of sowing the seed; age is the
time of recollection and of reaping the fruits of what we have sown.
[Illustration]
THE WISE FARMER.
A FARMER came into possession of some new land. It consisted of three
fields that lay adjoining each other, but on going to examine them he
was astonished at the difference in their quality. The first was stony
ground; the next, though not stony, was of a thin and light soil; while
the third, lying lower and being meadow-land, was covered with rich,
dark loam. As a whole, the ground was not what he had expected, and
in his disappointment he hardly knew what to do. But after consulting
with his wife, who was a prudent adviser, he concluded to do his best
with all three fields, and not, on account of its inferior quality, to
neglect either one.
[Illustration]
The stony field was hard to cultivate. The ploughing was laborious, and
so were all the other processes of farming it. Yet he persevered till
it was well seeded down with grass and clover. The middle field—the one
with the thin light soil—required a great deal of help. He had to spend
largely for different kinds of fertilizers, and afterward was at much
trouble in clearing the ground to receive them. But by hard work he got
this field also planted with oats in good time.
The rich loamy field, which from the start he had longed to begin on,
was left, purposely, till the last. As he took down the bars and drove
his team into it day after day he chuckled to himself, saying: “I do
love to farm this field!”
It required but half the expense and labor to make it ready that either
of the others required, and no sooner had he drilled in the wheat than
there came a shower that made it spring up, so that he could almost see
it growing.
The planting being done, he waited patiently for the harvest. Then the
stony field yielded him a good crop of hay, which he got safely into
his barn without a single wetting; the field with the thin light soil
gave a fair crop of oats—enough to feed his stock during the winter;
and the rich loamy ground yielded a splendid crop of wheat—sufficient
not only to furnish his family with flour, but also to let him sell a
portion, that brought in enough money for all his other needs.
[Illustration]
“How much better are we off,” he said to his wife one day after the
harvesting was over, “that we took the land willingly, just as it came
to us, instead of finding fault with it and neglecting the poorer
fields because they did not equal our expectations! And, now that we
have got them so well started, we may expect them, with proper care, to
go on improving from year to year.”
* * * * *
Among those who come under our care (our own children, it may be) we
shall find some less answerable to our wishes than others. But our duty
to all is alike, and by performing it we shall not only do justice to
them, but secure a recompense, in the end, to ourselves.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
WAYFARERS.
A MAN who had an ugly limp in his gait, but was nevertheless a good
walker, sat down on a bench by the wayside one day, saying, impatiently:
“This lameness embitters my life. I cannot for a moment lose sight
of it. I go limping along, my legs are unlike, my steps are uneven,
and, though I do not suffer positive pain, I very often experience
discomfort. Beside all this, I fear, as I grow older, my halt will
increase upon me, so that I shall be even more of a cripple then than
I am now. How I wish I could change places with yonder cheerful-looking
man who is coming this way with such an even, measured tread!”
As he ceased speaking the man he referred to suddenly turned toward the
bench on which the speaker was resting and took a seat at his side, but
rather closer than was needful, as they two had it alone.
“Excuse me,” said the new comer as he felt himself crowding his
neighbor; “I am blind, and, although I know this path so well that I
can walk along it without a guide, I could not see that another was
seated here before me.”