A tall Fir, that stood towering up in the forest, was so proud of his
dignity and high station, that he looked with disdain upon the little
shrubs that grew beneath him. A lowly Bramble had often been made to
feel the insults and gloomy frowns of his lofty neighbour, who, on the
slightest rufflings of the winds, shook his extended arms over the
humble shrub, and upbraided him with his contemptible situation. As for
me, said the Fir, I am the first in the forest for beauty and rank:
my top shoots up into the clouds, and my branches display a perpetual
verdure, whilst you lie grovelling upon the ground, and could not live
were I to leave off sprinkling you with the drops from my extremities.
At this the Bramble set up his prickles, and replied, that this
haughtiness arose from pride and ignorance; for He that made thee a
lofty tree, could, with equal ease, have made thee an humble Bramble;
and high as thou art, a puff of His breath, in the message of a north
wind, can rob thee of thy verdure, or lay thee low; and further, I
pray thee tell me, when the woodman comes with his axe to fell timber,
whether thou wouldst not rather be a Bramble than a Fir?