There was a stream gliding blithely and care free down a
mountain-side in its course to the ocean. On the way it passed
a stagnant pool, which asked whither it was going. The stream
answered that it went to contribute its cup of water to the vast
ocean. “Wait!” said the pool. “Why give up all your substance to
the ocean, which has no need of it? Follow my example, and hold
on tight to what you have. Soon the hot season will be around
and the glaring sun will shrivel you up.” But the stream’s
unselfishness forbade such a course, and it flowed merrily
onward, while the pool gathered itself more closely together
and settled down in its position of selfish ease and comfort.
Presently the hot season came, and the sun scorched everything
beneath its blazing heat. But the little stream flowed securely
beneath an archway of overhanging trees, the leaves and branches
of which made it immune from dangers and obstructions. And the
sun peeped through the leaves and smiled upon it, saying that it
could not harm such an unoffending thing. And the birds came to
sip of its refreshing waters, while the sweet flowers bloomed
along its side. The farmer in the field looked kindly upon it,
the cows came to drink of it, and the stream pursued its way
happily, blessing everything and being blest. But not so with
the pool. The sun glared down on it, drying it up and making it
repugnant and stagnant. And the breezes, kissing it by mistake,
carried the unhealthy stench over the land, introducing malaria
wherever it went. Everything shunned and avoided it, and because
of its selfishness it was transformed into a murky, vile puddle,
reeking with hurtful germs. But the stream emptied its water
into the ocean, from which it was borne aloft into the clouds
and carried back to the mountain summit whence it came, there to
begin again its joyous course.--S. G. WEISCOTTON.
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