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authorRoger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>2025-10-15 02:35:59 -0700
committerRoger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>2025-10-15 02:35:59 -0700
commit372b536a0c12b60d531b6ec51c26f2d71521171d (patch)
tree2d9a9704f873fc0bb76889d2ebce868017daa686
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+ <head>
+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+ <title>
+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Parables From Flowers, by Gertrude P. Dyer.
+ </title>
+ <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Parables from Flowers, by Gertrude P. Dyer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Parables from Flowers
+
+Author: Gertrude P. Dyer
+
+Release Date: January 6, 2009 [EBook #27718]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARABLES FROM FLOWERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Meredith Bach, Lindy Walsh and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="microspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h1>PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.</h1>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image"><img src="images/icover.jpg" width="309" height="480" alt="Book cover" title="" /></div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image border2" style="width: 385px; height: 576px;">
+<img src="images/ifrontis.png" width="385" height="576" alt="Parables from Flowers.
+
+Frontispiece." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Parables from Flowers.</span>
+<br />
+<span style="float: left;"><i>Frontispiece.</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<hr />
+
+<h1><span class="gesperrt">PARABLES</span><br />
+<span class="gesperrt">FROM FLOWERS</span>.</h1>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3 style="font-size: 133%;">GERTRUDE P. DYER,<br />
+<small>AUTHOR OF 'LITTLE POLLIE,' 'ARMOUR-CLAD,' ETC. ETC.</small></h3>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="center"><i>Doth not thy heart throb with emotions of thankfulness to God for making<br />
+the earth so fair, so redolent of beauty in its garniture of flowers,<br />
+and for having scattered these silent teachers up and down the world?</i></div>
+
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h3><span style="letter-spacing: .1em; margin-right: -.1em;">EDINBURGH:</span><br />
+<span style="letter-spacing: .1em; margin-right: -.1em;">W. P. NIMMO, HAY, &amp; MITCHELL.</span></h3>
+
+
+<hr style="margin-bottom: 2.5em;" />
+<h4>TO</h4>
+
+<h4>MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS,</h4>
+
+<h3>MABEL, ELSIE, <small>and</small> RUBY TARR.</h3>
+
+<hr style="margin-top: 3em;" />
+
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<hr style="width: 7%; margin-top: .5em;" />
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="3" summary="table of contents" width="58%">
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'></td><td align='right'><span style="font-size: 90%;">PAGE</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'>THE FORGET-ME-NOT&mdash;FIDELITY</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_FIRST">7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>THE SNOWDROP&mdash;FAITH</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_SECOND">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'>THE FOXGLOVES' STRATAGEM&mdash;GRATITUDE</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_THIRD">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'>THE LITTLE MINER AND HIS FLOWER&mdash;TRUST IN GOD</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_FOURTH">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'>THE LITTLE SEED&mdash;KINDNESS</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_FIFTH">68</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'>THE CROWN IMPERIAL&mdash;HOPE</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_SIXTH">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'>THE TWO LEAVES&mdash;DISCONTENT</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_SEVENTH">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'>THE AMBITIOUS WILD-FLOWER&mdash;AMBITION</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_EIGHTH">99</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'>THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BUTTERFLY&mdash;HUMILITY AND PRIDE</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_NINTH">115</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr />
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<img src="images/i007089.png" width="550" height="138" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2>PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.</h2>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_FIRST" id="PARABLE_FIRST"></a>PARABLE FIRST.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE FORGET-ME-NOT&mdash;FIDELITY.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropi.png" width="123" height="175" alt="I" style="margin-top: -1em;"/></span><span class="upper">n</span> the days of the long-ago, my ancestors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+did not dwell as we do now&mdash;in
+brooks or by the banks of shallow
+streams, but grew in wild luxuriance beneath
+the shade of overhanging trees, and
+under the wayside hedgerows.</p>
+
+<p>We were always a quiet, unassuming race, and,
+indeed, I am fain to confess, were not held in
+more esteem by mortals than are our sweet cousins
+whom children call 'Bird's-eyes.' But some one
+made known to the world that pathetic 'Legend
+of the Rhine,' in which we are described, then
+people began to perceive that we were pretty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>lovely
+indeed,&mdash;and to make a great fuss about us;
+but such is the way of the world!</p>
+
+<p>Yet, though that legend is tenderly beautiful
+and thrilling, it is almost too romantic to please
+the taste of simple flowers, therefore I will tell
+you the true story how we acquired our name.
+That shall be my parable&mdash;see what it will teach!</p>
+
+<p>We grew there, unheeded and unsought, on soft
+mossy banks, not the less lovely because unknown,
+and just above our dwelling-place a large oak
+spread abroad its leafy branches. It was a
+favourite tree of the birds, they felt so secure
+there, sheltered from prying eyes by its protecting
+leaves; besides, its branches were so firm and
+strong, they resisted bravely the fury of the storms
+that swept over them. What bird, then, would
+fear to build its nest there? And often have we
+listened to their sweet songs as they perched above
+us, and many times lifted our heads and gazed
+upon the happy inmates of those simple homes.</p>
+
+<p>But there was one family among them that
+interested us even more than others, though all
+were dear to us. It was a pair of wrens who had
+by some strange accident taken up their abode in
+our oak, instead of a yew-tree as they generally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+do; and not only my family, but the whole colony
+of birds, old inhabitants of the tree, many of them,
+felt great interest in the new-comers, assisting
+them with advice, as they were but young.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when building time came, how kind they all
+were! indeed, though it was a busy season with
+every bird, each anxious to finish its work, yet I
+heard an old Rook one day ask little Jenny Wren
+'if he should help her,' as he met her trying to drag
+a large wisp of straw with all her tiny strength.</p>
+
+<p>'No, thank you,' she gently replied; 'I must try to
+do it. We must all learn to bear our own burdens.'</p>
+
+<p>But many times, however, I have seen the
+larger and stronger birds bring materials for
+making the nest close to the spot they had chosen,
+to save the little strangers weary journeys; and
+at last, after much patient labour, the home was
+finished, to the intense delight of the two builders,
+for both took their share in the work; but the joy
+was greater, when, after some time, three little
+birds made their appearance in the compact and
+cosy nest.</p>
+
+<p>The event caused quite a sensation among the
+other dwellers in our old tree. Jays were constantly
+inquiring how the nestlings were getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+on, an inquisitive Magpie peeped into the nest,
+trying to get a glimpse of the pretty ones, and
+received a sharp peck from the angry father as a
+reproof for the intrusion; as to the motherly Rooks,
+who were supposed to care for nothing save their
+own family concerns, they kindly advised the
+young parents how to rear the brood, saying,
+'Care, care,' was all that was necessary; nay, it
+is even recorded, as an undoubted fact, that an old
+Owl, who had lived for ages in a hole in the tree,
+actually opened her eyes quite wide when the
+news was first told to her, although it was broad
+daylight! You may imagine, then, how happy
+they were, surrounded thus by kindness and love;
+and yet&mdash;I suppose it is but right there are ever
+shadows as well as sunshine, and, sad though it
+seems, every life must have bitters mingled with the
+sweets; still they were so joyous in that tiny nest!
+Why, ah, why was their happiness to be clouded?
+Alas, it grieves me even now to tell, though many
+long years have since then passed away!</p>
+
+<p>One day the father-bird went from the nest,
+and never returned!</p>
+
+<p>Long and patiently waited his little mate,
+hoping each moment to hear his welcome note, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+swiftly he winged his way back to her. But the
+day wore on, the evening sun grew golden, then
+faded in the purple west&mdash;but still he came not!
+The other dwellers in the oak returned to their
+homes, yet they brought no tidings of the wanderer.
+After a while their happy voices were hushed in
+sleep, the Blackbird ceased to warble his evening
+hymn, and all were buried in slumber, and at rest!</p>
+
+<p>All? Ah, no! the lonely mourner was waking
+still, gazing up with sad, sad eyes at the starry
+heavens above, asking the night-winds as they
+moaned around:</p>
+
+<p>'Will he not return to me?'</p>
+
+<p>Days passed, slowly dragging their length
+wearily on for the lonely bird in that desolate
+nest. Yet, though her heart was breaking, she
+tended her tiny nestlings, neglecting none of her
+daily duties; for his dear sake she loved them yet
+the more, hoping as each day came it would bring
+him back, and striving to imagine his delight when
+he returned, and found his young ones almost
+fledged. But still the days dawned, the weary
+hours went by, the sickness of hope deferred would
+fall upon her loving heart, crushing it almost to
+breaking; yet bravely she struggled with her woe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+It was when the holy stars shone down, gazing
+pityingly at her meekly raised eyes, and she was
+alone in stillness with her great sorrow, that then
+would she murmur with a bitter cry,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'When will he come home to me again?'</p>
+
+<p>Yet still he came not!</p>
+
+<p>Then her brave heart gave way. In vain the
+other birds tried to comfort her; she could not
+be comforted, for he she so dearly loved 'was not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do not grieve, do not grieve&mdash;cheer thee,
+che-eer thee,' sang the Robin, as he perched beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Or the Thrush tried to advise, saying, 'Don't
+fret, don't fret; 'tis a pity, 'tis a pity!'</p>
+
+<p>But one bright sunny day a Swallow came
+flying along. He had just returned from far
+distant lands, and all the other birds gathered
+chittering around him, eager to hear the news he
+had brought. He told them of much he had seen
+whilst on the wing; also that he was the pioneer,
+his brothers would soon rejoin him, for Summer
+was coming; he had heard her heralds in the
+fields and groves, had marked her flower-decked
+path in forest and in lane. But what was summer
+to the heart-broken Wren? There would be no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+sunshine for her, since <i>he</i> was not there&mdash;he who
+was her all.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Swallow,' she timidly asked, 'have you
+seen my own love?'</p>
+
+<p>Then the eyes of the Swallow became tear-dimmed,
+as sadly he replied,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Little Jenny Wren, I have!'</p>
+
+<p>'Where&mdash;oh, where?' she cried in thrilling
+accents.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated a few moments, though to her
+impatience it seemed hours; he wished to spare
+her further agony if he could&mdash;but the truth must
+be told.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me, tell me,' she pleaded, impatient at the
+delay.</p>
+
+<p>'In a prison,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'In a prison!' she repeated, horror-struck at
+the disclosure; then she added, 'I will go to him,
+and share his captivity.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nay, nay,' remonstrated a motherly Sparrow;
+'your little ones&mdash;think&mdash;think&mdash;see&mdash;see!'</p>
+
+<p>Sadly she drooped her head upon her breast;
+her heart was divided between a mother's duty
+and a wife's love.</p>
+
+<p>'I will take care of the nestlings,' said a young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+Linnet; 'they shall feed with my little ones, I
+will shelter them under my wings.'</p>
+
+<p>Gratefully the poor wee bird looked at her
+generous friend; words were not needed to express
+her thanks.</p>
+
+<p>'Take me to him,' she piteously asked, turning
+to the Swallow.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall pass that way to-morrow,' he said, 'for
+I must go and meet my comrades, to guide them
+here. You can go with me; I will take you to
+where he is imprisoned.'</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, before the sun had risen,
+away flew the Swallow, and with him the little
+Wren. She heeded not that the valleys were still
+shrouded in mist, or that the cold grey dawn yet
+lingered in the skies; was not her sunshine
+coming? should she not soon see him who was
+her brightness? The day wore on, and onward
+still by the Swallow's side, she, with untiring
+pinions, winged her way; she suffered not from
+noontide heat, she felt not even the pangs of
+hunger or thirst, for her heart was filled with
+hope. But towards evening her pitying guide led
+her over a hot, murky town; the very sky above
+it was hidden by the thick atmosphere of smoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+which seemed completely to envelope it; the two
+birds could scarcely breathe, the air was so dense
+with poisonous gases.</p>
+
+<p>'It cannot be here?' she gasped, as suddenly
+the Swallow paused in his rapid flight.</p>
+
+<p>'See, see!' was his exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>Then, raising her heavy eyes, she saw, suspended
+from a high window, a small wire cage, and in it&mdash;her
+long-lost mate!</p>
+
+<p>He was resting on a low perch, with his poor
+aching head beneath his wing; his pretty brown
+feathers were no longer smoothly plumed, but
+hung ragged and tattered around his wasted form,
+so different to the bright, bonnie bird of the long-ago!
+But she heeded not the change; to her he
+was as beautiful, ay, and more dear than ever, so,
+flying up, she clung with eager feet to the cruel bars
+which kept her from him, and, pressing her beak
+as close as possible to the cage, she murmured,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I am here, love!'</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of that sweet voice, so well remembered
+by the captive, he raised his drooped
+head, and, gazing at her with all the old loving
+tenderness, whispered feebly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Is it you, Jenny? Ah, I knew you would come!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And every evening found her there. Patiently
+would she stay near the prisoner throughout the
+dark watches of the night, cheering her loved one
+because she was near; but when the grey dawn
+came stealing over the skies, away she would fly
+back to the nest in the oak, and during the day
+would carefully tend her little ones, fulfilling thus
+her double duty as wife and mother. Then when
+the evening star appeared, telling her of the
+gloaming, she would hush her nestlings with a
+soothing lullaby, and, when they were sleeping,
+would swiftly fly to her imprisoned mate, bearing
+in her beak a sprig of moss, or a leaf from the
+well-remembered spot where they had been so
+happy in the spring-time of their life; and when
+she reached the prison, if her loved one was grieving,
+pining for the liberty he had lost, the home
+ties thus rudely broken, her sweet voice murmuring,
+'I am here, love,' seemed to bring comfort to that
+poor failing heart; and as she tenderly pressed
+her cool, fresh beak to his, so parched and dry, he
+would reply, striving to be gay for her dear sake,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, Jenny, you have brought on your wings
+some sunlight from our old home, my darling.'</p>
+
+<p>One evening, when as usual she flew to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+prison, she found him lying at the bottom of the
+cage, speechless and motionless. Frantically she
+tore at the cruel bars, beating them with her wings
+in an agony of despair.</p>
+
+<p>'My own love, my own love!' she cried aloud in
+her anguish; 'speak to me once again!'</p>
+
+<p>Her beloved voice seemed to possess the power
+to recall him back to life, for he heard her, though
+the shadows of death were stealing over him.</p>
+
+<p>'Jenny, darling,' he feebly whispered, as she
+bent low to catch the faintest word, 'they have
+broken my heart. Ah, why did they keep me
+thus captive?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, do not die!' she moaned; 'think how
+lonely I should be in this wide world without you.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I were but free, we should be so happy
+again, love,' he said, gasping painfully for breath
+as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>'I will release you,' she cried, and strove with
+all her strength to unfasten the prison door, but in
+vain&mdash;it resisted all her efforts.</p>
+
+<p>'What shall I do? what shall I do? He will
+die, and I cannot help him,' moaned forth the
+poor Wren in accents of despair.</p>
+
+<p>'My sweet one,' he murmured, 'do not grieve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+so bitterly. Death were better far than life if
+separated from you; but, before I close my eyes
+for ever upon this world which the good God who
+loveth us hath created so beautiful, bring me just
+one spray of those little blue flowers.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know them!' she eagerly cried; 'a cluster
+grew beneath our nest.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' he continued; 'and when I used to return
+home I could see them afar off, and would think,
+"Jenny is there, and their blue eyes are looking
+upon her." Bring me one tiny spray, darling, and
+if I die when you are from me, we shall not seem
+so very far apart, for those sweet flowers will
+whisper to me of you.'</p>
+
+<p>She waited no longer, but flew rapidly away to
+bring the blossoms on which he wished to look
+once again; but she had not long gone when a
+young girl came to the cage, and saw the poor
+captive bird as Jenny had found him&mdash;still and
+motionless as though dying, and her heart was
+filled with tender pity, that its brief life should
+thus be so soon ended.</p>
+
+<p>'Poor birdie! I fear it is dying,' she said. 'I
+will unfasten the cage; perhaps the fresh air will
+revive him, and bring back his failing strength.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And with kindly hands she opened the prison
+door, thus giving him liberty.</p>
+
+<p>The cool, fresh air, stirring his drooping feathers,
+aroused him from his lethargy; at first he could
+not believe that the door was open, that he was
+free. It was almost too much happiness for the
+poor sick bird to bear; yet it was true&mdash;freedom
+was his, and his first thought was of Jenny.</p>
+
+<p>He would fly to meet her, as he knew she
+would soon return, bearing with her the blue
+flowers he loved, and then, when she saw <i>him</i>
+coming towards her,&mdash;free, yes, free!&mdash;would not
+all past sorrow be forgotten in the ever-present
+joy? So, with a twitter of gratitude to the girl
+who had opened his prison door, he fluttered his
+wings, just to try their strength, poised a while
+in the air, then away he flew with unerring
+instinct towards his dear home in the old oak
+tree.</p>
+
+<p>But of Jenny?</p>
+
+<p>With a sad weight upon her poor little heart,
+crushing it with the iron grip of despair, she
+reached the spot where the flowers grew, plucked
+a few blossoms from the stem, then away again,
+without pausing to rest, bearing the prized flowerets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+in her beak. She felt not fatigue; though her
+weary pinions sometimes faltered, still she heeded
+it not, still struggling on, eager to reach where he
+lay dying. Her only thought was:</p>
+
+<p>'If he were to die, and I not with him.'</p>
+
+<p>But slower and slower grew her flight;
+strength at last was failing, for it had been too
+severely tried; her breath came quick and fast,
+in short, fitful gasps, and her heart beat heavily
+beneath her quivering breast.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, but to see him once more!' she moaned,
+as she felt her weary wings failed to do her
+bidding. She tried to fly yet a little farther, in
+vain; her tired pinions fluttered for a while, then
+down she sank, slowly, slowly, on to the calm
+bosom of a rippling stream that was flowing on
+over its pebbly sands with soothing melody.</p>
+
+<p>'Jenny, Jenny, my own love, where are you?
+I have sought you so long, my darling,' she heard
+the well-known voice exclaiming.</p>
+
+<p>She raised her dying eyes, and saw her loved
+mate hovering above her in the summer air.</p>
+
+<p>'I am here, love,' she faintly murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Then with all the old love-light beaming from
+her soft, gentle eyes, she turned to gaze at her poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+desolate mate, who was rending the air with his
+piteous cries, then closed them for ever, with a
+look of perfect peace, murmuring softly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Dearest, forget me not.'</p>
+
+<p>And the rippling stream bore her gently away
+echoing with a plaintive wail her dying words:</p>
+
+<p>'Dearest, forget me not.'</p>
+
+<p>The poor widowed bird caught the flowers as
+they were floating away on the breast of his lost
+love, and carried them to his now desolate home;
+but one little blossom, in tender pity for sweet
+Jenny Wren, detached itself from the others to
+linger still with the poor dead bird; and when the
+stream had carefully borne its precious burden to
+a shady nook, where she could rest, for ever freed
+from sorrow and pain, the flower was carried with
+her, and, taking root above the spot where she lay
+buried, put forth its blue blossoms in loving
+remembrance of that fond, faithful heart.</p>
+
+<p>And thus it is how we became dwellers close
+to tranquil streams, and why our name is still
+'forget-me-not.'</p>
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i022099.png" width="590" height="167" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_SECOND" id="PARABLE_SECOND"></a>PARABLE SECOND.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter3">THE SNOWDROP&mdash;FAITH.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropm.png" width="123" height="182" alt="M" style="margin-top: -1em;" /></span><span class="upper">y</span> life has been so tranquil, that I fear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+it will not possess much interest;
+for, when first recollection dawned, I
+remember finding myself far down in the
+earth&mdash;a small bulb, not much to look at,
+I am thinking. But very happy were the days
+spent there with my companions. We in our
+ignorance deemed the world a dreary place, and
+wished we could for ever stay where it was so cosy
+and warm; but our Mother Earth was carefully
+instructing us, teaching us the same precious
+lessons she unfolds to her other children, if they
+will but read the ever-open book, by man called
+'Nature.'</p>
+
+<p>I know not how long it was that the Frost King
+kept the land bound captive in icy chains, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+at last the signal for freedom came. The trees
+awoke from their winter sleep, and, casting off their
+sombre garments of sheathed leaves, came forth in
+vestments of tender green; the bees, too, sent out
+their pioneers, who hastened back to the hives with
+the glad tidings of the sunshine and of awakening
+flowers. The birds flew hither and thither on
+joyous wings, twittering their simple gratitude to
+Him who 'heareth the ravens cry;' for they indeed
+were thankful that the dark days were past, and
+that 'the time of the singing of birds had come.'
+As to the little brooks and streams, how rejoiced
+were they to be free once more! they bounded
+away over the sandy shallows or pebbly beds,
+laughing for very gladness, and kissing the green
+banks whose fresh verdure they laved, whilst
+murmuring to them their gladsome song:</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">'I'm free! oh, joy! I am free once again!</span><br />
+<span class="i2">I have burst with delight my icy chain,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">And gaily I flow to the open sea,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Joyously singing, I'm free! oh, I'm free!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="i0">I kiss the green banks as I glide along,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">I woo the birds with my peaceful song;</span><br />
+<span class="i0">The sunbeams they dance to my joyous strain,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Whilst gaily I fling their rays back again.'</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And for us also came the appointed time, when
+we too had to leave the home in which we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+been so tenderly nurtured; we were to go, ready
+prepared to do the work marked out for us.</p>
+
+<p>But I did not wish to go; I feared to face a
+world unknown to me, and fain would have
+lingered in the home so loved.</p>
+
+<p>'Why must I leave you?' I asked of our
+gentle parent. 'I cannot bear the separation.'</p>
+
+<p>'My child,' she replied, with something of
+reproach in her soft voice, 'have you so soon
+forgotten the lesson I taught you, that He who
+created all things, createth nothing in vain? Go
+forth upon the earth, and speak in parables of His
+glorious works.'</p>
+
+<p>'What can I teach?&mdash;I, so small, and of no
+repute!' I asked, still doubting.</p>
+
+<p>'Some lesson of His goodness to the children
+of men,' was her reply.</p>
+
+<p>'But everything on earth appears to have its
+appointed mission; there seems no work for me,'
+I urged in excuse.</p>
+
+<p>'God will find something for even you to do,'
+she said; 'it may be only a message from Him.'</p>
+
+<p>'A message!' I repeated. 'What could I say
+to others? Already have all the flowers their
+symbols: the Violet is the Hope flower, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+Heart's-ease speaks of Thought; what can we
+Snowdrops tell?'</p>
+
+<p>Our mother did not answer&mdash;she left us to find
+what lessons we best could teach.</p>
+
+<p>So day by day we grew, stronger and stronger,
+gradually becoming better fitted to perform the
+work allotted; until at last I appeared above the
+ground&mdash;a slender green leaf!</p>
+
+<p>Never shall I forget how cheerless looked the
+earth when first I came above it, so dull and
+black, save where a few snowflakes had been
+drifted by the wintry winds; all else was bleak
+and bare. There was not a gleam of sunshine
+athwart the leaden sky to cheer us, nor a bird to
+meet us with a friendly greeting, for even the
+robins kept so near the houses for warmth and
+shelter, they came not to the spot where we grew,
+alone and sad; and as to the trees, they as yet
+stood silent above us, only the Holly was still
+decked with gay scarlet berries, enlivening up the
+gloomy landscape with a little bright colour.
+But the Holly smiled not on us; armed at all
+points in his glossy coat of shining mail, he
+was so lofty and grand, and we were only&mdash;Snowdrops!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But I grew on, cherished by our great
+Mother Nature, who careth for all her children,
+and loves them tenderly, be they humble Daisies
+or the queenly Rose; and at last I became a
+perfect flower, taking my pure white tints from
+the snow around me, and borrowing just a faint
+tinge of green from the young grass that was now
+bravely struggling to appear.</p>
+
+<p>By and by, a Blackbird, with golden beak and
+shining coat, found me out as he was seeking a
+convenient tree in which to make a nest, and,
+bowing politely, exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Welcome to you, fair Snowdrop! I am
+rejoiced to see you, for you bring us the assurance
+that spring is on the way, and we shall be glad,
+for the winter has been long and dreary.'</p>
+
+<p>Then he having communicated the glad tidings
+to the other birds, they also came to greet me,
+cheering my loneliness with their sweet songs.
+Yet still I pined to return to earth again; I cared
+not to look upward, but hung my head, murmuring
+sadly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mother Earth, take home thy child! she is
+so weary of her life here.'</p>
+
+<p>Was I wrong? Perhaps so, but I owed my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+existence to that which mortals deem so cold and
+dark; I loved it with the affection of a loving
+child, and longed to rest again upon the dear
+bosom that had sheltered me when I was but a
+frail bulb.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, it seemed to me that I was doing no
+good. Why was I sent here, if only to bloom and
+then die? I had been told that nothing was
+created in vain; was I doing the work for which I
+had been sent upon the earth?</p>
+
+<p>Whilst thus repining over my useless life, a
+poet passed by chance&mdash;stay, was it chance? nay,
+there is no chance! He was one who as yet had
+met with but little success; I am told there are
+many such among earth's children. We know
+that it is said:</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+'Many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br />
+And waste its sweetness on the desert air;'<br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>yet the sweetness is not <i>lost</i>, for it speaks
+with a perfumed voice to the creatures of
+the air; but among mortals, many fade away
+into utter oblivion, breathing only their sad,
+sweet heart-songs to the listening winds
+around.</p>
+
+<p>And this poet of whom I speak, he felt within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+himself the inspiration of genius, that innate love
+of the beautiful and true which comes from God
+alone; but the world looked coldly on him, and
+he was struggling with what seemed endless
+disappointments, battling with them bravely, yet
+almost sinking amidst the strife. His very heart
+was beginning to fail him, his noble courage to
+give way, when he saw me there, blossoming alone
+in that quiet nook.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, God!' he cried, as, with clasped hands
+and eyes raised heavenward, he sank beside me on
+the sod,&mdash;'oh, God, forgive me that I should dare
+to doubt Thy loving care, when this fragile, fragile
+flower, sheltered by Thee, has braved the wintry
+storms, while the cold winds pass tenderly over
+its bowed head. A bruised reed Thou wilt not
+break; Thou carest for the lilies of the field,&mdash;why
+then should I fear when adversity assails me?
+Art Thou not still above, though heaven seems so
+far off, and oh, so cold and pitiless! I will
+have faith in Thy divine and fatherly love, and
+accept the lesson this sweet flower hath taught
+me.'</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>Yes, faith&mdash;faith in God, was the parable I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+sent to teach, and I also have learned to know
+that, though the skies may be dark and the winds&mdash;oh,
+so cold! yet if we only wait, and trust
+Him, the sunshine will come at last, and the
+breath of heaven never visit us too roughly.</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i029.png" width="130" height="149" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i030.png" width="590" height="148" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_THIRD" id="PARABLE_THIRD"></a>PARABLE THIRD.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE FOXGLOVES' STRATAGEM&mdash;GRATITUDE.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropw.png" width="143" height="190" alt="W" style="margin-top: -1em;" /></span><span class="upper">e</span> lived on the garden wall of an old-farmhouse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+over which the vines
+grew in rare luxuriance, covering it
+with their climbing tendrils and leaves;
+and in the autumn the purple and white
+grapes peeped from beneath their leafy shelter,
+mocking the thirsty throats of the village lads
+who passed that way, and who looked longingly
+up at the ripe clusters.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very old place, I am told, and had
+been inhabited by the same family for many
+successive generations. Fathers had tilled the
+soil, then laid aside the plough for ever. Sons
+had sprung up to take their place, and they too,
+in their turn, were gathered in, when the bearded
+grain was ripe for the sickle of the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+'Reaper, whose name is Death,' leaving the old
+homestead to others of the same name and race,
+who loved the home in which they were born,
+and wherein those they most cherished had lived
+and died.</p>
+
+<p>The Swallows, too, loved it, returning year after
+year to their nests under the eaves, and from
+early dawn 'to dewy eve,' all through the warm
+summer days, flew hither and thither with swift,
+untiring wing, chasing each other, as it were, or
+teaching their young to fly. As to the Robins,
+they hopped in at the open door under the rustic
+porch, just as if they belonged to the place, and
+were sure of a welcome, which indeed they were!
+And that porch&mdash;what a cosy corner it was, with
+seats on either side, inviting weary feet to rest!
+the sunbeams were always playing bo-peep through
+the leaves which hung clustering around; the
+Honeysuckles and Clematis decking it, too, with
+their blossoms, scattering their delicious perfume
+the while. But I always thought the spot looked
+brightest when little Susie was there&mdash;she who was
+the very sunshine of the old home! And how
+they all loved her, from the white-headed grandfather
+down to the little ploughboy, who brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+her all the poor motherless or sick creatures he
+found on the farm, were it but a half-fledged bird
+or a stray kitten, certain of her thanks, and a
+sweet smile; and as to her three big brothers,
+who had such influence over them as little Susie?
+for even when they were disputing as to whose
+turn it was to ride Brown Bess (the joint property
+of the children), Susie was always chosen umpire
+to decide the important question, and they abode
+by her decision.</p>
+
+<p>Why, it was Susie who saved us from being
+ruthlessly destroyed! for it happened that one
+day old Peter was at work in the garden, and, to
+make the place 'a bit more tidy,' as he said, was
+proceeding to cut us off from the wall.</p>
+
+<p>'They bain't o' much account,' he muttered,
+sharpening his hook; 'not loike them there
+Roses maister sets sich store by, and thinks so
+much on.'</p>
+
+<p>Certainly it seemed very sad that, because we
+were merely 'common flowers,' our lives were to
+be cut short long before the appointed time; we
+had endeavoured to bloom as brightly as our more
+refined sisters, and in sunshine or shower had
+tried our best to look gay, and, I think, had suc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>ceeded,
+for we do not shut our petals as if we
+were sulking when dark clouds come, but keep
+them always open. But the fiat had gone forth&mdash;old
+Peter was the stern arbitrator of our destinies!
+and, feeling that our fate was inevitable, we sighed
+a last long farewell to each other, just as we saw
+him raise his sharp hook to cut us down. At
+that moment, so 'big with fate' for us, who
+should come into the garden, singing for very
+gladness like the birds themselves, but little Susie;
+the sunlight was playing with her waving hair,
+her eyes sparkled as the dewdrops in the sun,
+and her tiny feet skipped lightly along as she
+came dancing up the pathway.</p>
+
+<p>That prolonged our lives! Old Peter dropped his
+hook to turn round and look at his young mistress.</p>
+
+<p>'What are you going to do, Peter?' she inquired,
+as she drew near, and saw him take up his tools
+to resume work.</p>
+
+<p>'Whoy, lop doun these 'ere things, Miss Zusie,'
+he replied, pointing at us contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, please don't destroy them! they are so
+pretty!' was her eager exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>'Purty, missie!' the old man repeated, with
+astonishment; 'whoy, them be wild loike.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'But I love them dearly,' she persisted; 'so
+please leave them there.'</p>
+
+<p>'But the maister?' pursued Peter, rubbing his
+rough head in his perplexity; 'he told me to clear
+roight up.'</p>
+
+<p>Peter, it must be observed, was 'the odd man'
+about the farm; there is always one.</p>
+
+<p>'Father will say you did quite right to let
+them live,' replied the little lady; 'he likes them
+as much as I do, for he says he remembers
+them always growing here, coming up year
+after year without troubling any one to look
+after them, and making the old wall a very flower-garden.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Miss Zusie, if so be ye sez so, I s'pose
+I must,' he acquiesced, though I think he was
+greatly disappointed that he could not have his
+own way about it; so there we were left, and we
+bloomed more than ever, striving to do our best in
+gratitude to the little maiden.</p>
+
+<p>Now, I have noticed, as a rule,&mdash;mind, every rule
+has exceptions,&mdash;that good deeds, like good seed,
+seldom fall to the ground and wither away. Both
+may lie fallow, for a while at least, but the flower
+comes up after a while, and 'with what measure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+ye mete, it is meted to you again.' You may not
+have remarked this, perhaps, but the fact holds
+good, proving most emphatically the sacred truth,
+'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain
+mercy.'</p>
+
+<p>Now, when Susie saved our lives, she never
+thought that simple flowers could ever repay her
+kindness, and for some time, it is true, we did
+nothing, only strove to make the garden wall look
+gay with our sturdy buds and blossoms.</p>
+
+<p>But one day, I remember, Susie sat on the
+lawn close by the wall on which we grew, very
+busy making a smart new dress for her doll, Miss
+Arabella, who sat propped up by a work-box at
+her back, with her arms straight out, and her toes
+turned in, but with a sweet smile upon her waxen
+face. They were evidently engaged in earnest
+conversation, for Susie kept speaking in her own
+voice for herself, and using a very shrill falsetto
+for Arabella, who, by the bye, appeared to reply
+only in monosyllables.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this very entertaining discourse
+I heard another voice exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Look 'ee 'ere, Miss Zusie, this vowl 'ave airt
+her vut;' and the small ploughboy I before men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>tioned
+came in at the garden gate, holding a hen
+in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, give it to me, Joey,' cried the little girl,
+full of sympathy for the wounded bird. 'How did
+it happen? Poor dear, poor dear!'</p>
+
+<p>With that Joey poured forth a long account of
+the accident, to which she listened attentively, all
+the while soothing the lamed hen, and wrapping
+it up in her soft frock.</p>
+
+<p>'I will bathe its poor foot in warm water, and
+try to get it well,' she said, after thanking Joey
+for bringing it to her; and she went into the
+house, leaving Arabella alone on the lawn,
+cautioning her, however, 'to be a good child
+until mamma returned.'</p>
+
+<p>It was some days before we again saw the hen,
+and then she was quite restored, and had been
+given to Susie as her 'very own' because of the
+care she had bestowed upon her; indeed, she had
+become quite a pet, actually was allowed to roam
+about the flower-garden and lawns; and some
+one had given her the name of 'Zenobia,'&mdash;an inconvenient
+name to call when in a hurry, but
+Susie was very satisfied with it, and so, I suppose,
+was the hen, who seemed to love her little mistress,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+following her wherever she went, eating from her
+hand, and even perching on her shoulder! After
+some time Zenobia was to be seen walking
+about, followed by a family of nine chickens; and
+really I cannot tell which was most proud of the
+young brood, Susie or the hen. Susie called
+them 'loves' and 'beauties,' and the hen, she
+clucked, and made a great fuss over them, and, as
+if determined that their bed should be of roses,
+insisted on roosting every night under a rose-bush
+which grew near the garden gate, instead
+of the cosy coop with which she had been
+provided.</p>
+
+<p>Well, one moonlight night we, of course, were
+awake, though the church clock had long since
+struck the hour of midnight; and it was so still,
+only the voices of the night murmuring among the
+trees, though occasionally we could hear the soft
+crooning of the hen, as she hushed her little family
+to sleep beneath the rose-bush. Suddenly we
+heard the sound of stealthy footsteps creeping
+under the wall.</p>
+
+<p>'It is only Dash, the house dog,' whispered a
+sister-flower, who grew on the same stem as
+myself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Dash does not steal along in that crafty manner,'
+said another.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps it is a rabbit,' suggested one, 'or a cat
+taking a walk.'</p>
+
+<p>'It may be a rat.'</p>
+
+<p>Various conjectures were hazarded by those who
+grew low down on the wall, but I was higher up
+than they, so, looking cautiously over, what should
+I see but a Fox creeping along, and scenting his
+prey, with his sharp nose close to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>'Good evening!' I called out to him.</p>
+
+<p>He started with alarm, for great rascals are
+always great cowards.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, good evening, my friend,' he replied, very
+blandly. 'Charming evening this for a walk.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' I answered sharply; 'but rather late for
+respectable folks to be abroad!'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah yes, just so,' was his response; 'but, you
+see, my doctor has advised me to take quiet
+rambles.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was not Dr. Quack, was it?' I asked;
+'because, poor fellow, he came to an untimely end
+the other night,&mdash;had his head bitten off, and his
+body was then dragged across the yard, as I
+suppose you already know?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Dear me!' he ejaculated, with affected pity, and
+glancing slyly up at me out of the corner of his
+red eyes; 'but how should I know, my friend?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, because some of your family are strongly
+suspected,' was my reply; 'indeed, our Dash is on
+the watch, so I would advise you to'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Good-night, good-night,' he hurriedly exclaimed.
+'I feel the winds are becoming very chilly.'</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he shuffled off as fast as possible,
+more especially as at that moment Dash began
+barking furiously, as though he scented a foe.
+How we laughed to think we had frightened the
+artful fellow away, and some of us thought we
+should never see him again; but we were mistaken,
+for, a few nights after, there he was creeping along
+so stealthily outside the garden wall.</p>
+
+<p>'What do you want?' I called out to him.</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, my friend, nothing,' was his answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, since we do not keep that article here,
+you had better seek it elsewhere,' interposed a
+brother of mine who is rather saucy.</p>
+
+<p>The Fox paused for a moment, as if hesitating
+what to say; at length he began, in a whining tone
+of voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'My beloved friends, I perceive I must take you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+into my confidence. The fact is, my worthy
+doctor says I am in delicate health, and has therefore
+directed me'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' I said, seeing that he hesitated; 'what
+of that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Simply this; he has ordered me to eat only light,
+digestible food, such as chicken,' he went on to say.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, has he?' I remarked; and then I thought
+to myself, 'Now can your craftiness be seen
+through: you are after Zenobia; but Susie saved
+our lives, she shall not find the poor despised Fox-gloves
+ungrateful. We will save Zenobia!'</p>
+
+<p>However, Mr. Reynard had not guessed our
+thoughts (for we all thought alike on the subject),
+but continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Now, charming friends, I know you have a
+most delightful hen in this garden.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes, and nine such plump chickens!' cried
+my brother.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh dear, how very nice!' exclaimed the Fox.</p>
+
+<p>'And I have no doubt,' continued my brother,
+whilst we could hardly restrain our mirth, 'but
+that Zenobia would willingly give them up to you,
+for the honour of being devoured by so distinguished
+a personage.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Would she really?' he cried, swallowing this
+piece of flattery as greedily as he would the
+chickens.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes,' I chimed in; 'but there's one thing
+I would mention. Grandees like you must be
+formally introduced. Zenobia would be horrified
+were you to appear before her so unceremoniously;
+she might even refuse your request for one of the
+chickens.'</p>
+
+<p>'What shall I do, then?' he eagerly questioned.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, dress yourself of course, appear <i>en
+grande toilette</i>,' I replied; 'brush up your whiskers
+a little more, make your coat look glossy, and,
+above all, put on a pair of gloves!'</p>
+
+<p>'Gloves!' he repeated. 'I have not a single pair;
+tell me where I can purchase them?'</p>
+
+<p>'Leave that to us,' said my brother, bursting
+with glee. 'Originally, you must know, we were
+Fox-glovers, but somehow we have lost our ancient
+privilege; therefore have the supreme graciousness
+to restore it to us, and we will be only too proud
+to serve you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, certainly,' assented the Fox, assuming at
+once an air of patronage that was highly amusing.
+'I take six and three-quarters,' extending his forepad.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'No, surely not!' protested my merry brother;
+'you must be mistaken; such a pretty little paw
+as yours cannot possibly require such a large glove.
+Allow me to suggest six and a quarter.'</p>
+
+<p>The Fox agreed to the size named.</p>
+
+<p>'If you will condescend to call here to-morrow
+night about this time, they shall be ready for you,'
+one of us declared.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you,' he said loftily, as though he was
+conferring a favour upon us, and off he went, no
+doubt congratulating himself on his diplomacy. As
+to us, we laughed heartily, knowing how the crafty
+old fellow would be caught in his own toils.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, when we saw Susie feeding and
+caressing Zenobia, how we longed for the power
+to tell her of the danger that so fearfully menaced
+her pet, but we could not; for, though there is a
+'language of flowers,' it does not discourse on such
+a topic as this, therefore we were compelled to
+keep silence; but we were determined to do our
+best to guard little Susie's treasure. Night came,
+and dark and dreary it was too, with heavy clouds
+drifting across the moon, almost hiding its brightness;
+and it grew so late, past twelve, we began
+to think Mr. Reynard suspected us, and would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+come. But he did, looking so sleek and shiny,
+with his coat all spick and span, being freshly
+brushed, I expect.</p>
+
+<p>'Here I am, my friends; it has taken me so long
+to dress,' he said, panting with the haste he had
+evidently made. 'Is Zenobia&mdash;what a sweet name,
+to be sure!' he added in a fawning voice,&mdash;'is she
+here?'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course she is,' I replied; 'can you not hear
+her crooning to her <i>nine</i> children?' with a strong
+emphasis on the number.</p>
+
+<p>'Sweet, tender creature!' he exclaimed. 'Oh,
+but to know her yet more intimately! Let me
+jump over the gate to her!'</p>
+
+<p>'What! without your gloves on?' cried several
+of us at once; 'consider how very vulgar you
+would look.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dear, dear, I quite forgot,' he ejaculated rather
+impatiently; evidently he wanted his supper.</p>
+
+<p>'Here they are,' said my brother; 'pray allow
+me the honour of putting them on for you.'</p>
+
+<p>He saw the fox was all impatience; however,
+he was obliged to consent, and my brother proceeded
+forthwith to fit on a pair of Fox-gloves
+made expressly by us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'They are rather a tight fit,' he nervously
+remarked.</p>
+
+<p>'Rather,' we cried, as my brother held him fast
+by the paws, and we went to assist him in keeping
+the scoundrel a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>He saw, when too late, the trap into which he
+had fallen, and struggled hard to get free, even
+trying to pull us from off the old wall in his
+futile efforts to escape. But we were too securely
+fixed there for his strength to be of any avail; our
+roots were the growth of years, and, besides, we
+clasped him so tightly&mdash;for unity is indeed strength&mdash;that
+at last the cowardly fellow roared aloud
+with mingled pain and fright; perhaps he thought
+to startle us, and make us lose our hold. But we
+knew better than that&mdash;<i>we</i> only gripped him the
+faster; but the noise aroused Dash, who came
+bounding to the spot (he was always unchained at
+night), and, flying at Mr. Reynard's throat, he soon
+pinned him to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer and his sons must have heard the
+cries of the Fox and the baying of Dash, for
+presently they came running as fast as possible to
+the spot, armed with all sorts of weapons, and soon
+despatched the rascal.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And it would have pleased you to have heard
+the praises bestowed upon the brave old dog for
+his courage, which praise he most certainly
+deserved; but no one thought of us. However, we
+had our reward in feeling that we had done our
+duty, and tried to repay our debt of gratitude to
+little Susie; that was recompense enough for us,
+nor did we wish for more, for&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+'On their own merits<br />
+Modest men are dumb;'</div></div>
+
+<p>and so say we simple Foxgloves.</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i045.png" width="141" height="155" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<div class="image"><img src="images/i046.png" width="590" height="154" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_FOURTH" id="PARABLE_FOURTH"></a>PARABLE FOURTH.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE LITTLE MINER AND HIS FLOWER&mdash;TRUST IN GOD.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropi.png" width="123" height="175" alt="I" style="margin-top: -1em;" /></span> <span class="upper">do</span> not think any of us would care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+to pass the greater part of our days
+down in a coal mine, or even to live
+in the vicinity of one. For miles around
+the country is barren of trees or flowers;
+even the grass does not grow there; the very air
+is dense with black smoke from the numerous
+chimneys, so that the sky is hidden, as it were,
+by a thick, murky veil. But, if thus dreary by
+day, how much more dreadful does it look at
+night, when the lurid glare from the furnaces
+lights up the sky with a red gleam, which can be
+seen far and wide! it has then in it something
+terrible.</p>
+
+<p>As I said just now, not a flower can thrive in
+such a close and heavy atmosphere; not even a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+blade of grass can push its way up through the
+coal-encrusted soil which covers the earth. Well
+may it be called the 'Black Country;' and yet
+there are brave, good men living, ay, and working
+there, day after day descending those dark shafts
+and in the underground of the mines living out
+their hard, laborious lives, braving dangers innumerable,
+to provide for the wants of their fellow-men;
+yet I wonder how many of us, as we gather
+round the cosy fireside of home, ever think of the
+hardy miners. All honour, then, to that Christian
+man, whose noble heart thought so much of them
+and of the risks they encounter in the deep mines;
+his mighty genius studied to avert the dangers
+to which they are exposed, and by his clever invention
+many thousand lives have been saved.
+Statues are raised to soldiers and statesmen, and
+their deeds are chronicled all over the world, yet
+the simple-hearted Cornish chemist has done more
+for England's glory than all her greatest warriors
+or statesmen!</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, it is true, terrible accidents happen
+even now, and indeed, had any one passed through
+a certain coal district on the day of which we
+speak, a scene of desolation and misery would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+have presented itself; for there had been a colliery
+accident!&mdash;a fearful explosion in a mine through
+some (as yet) unknown cause, and they were now
+bringing up the dead and dying. We too often,
+alas! read these sad accounts in the newspapers,
+but cannot fully realize the intense anguish and
+despair among the mining population when such
+a calamity befalls them. Try to picture, then, the
+men, women, and even children, who were gathered
+in anxious groups around the mouth of the pit,
+eagerly waiting to see if any of their kindred were
+among the hapless victims; and when the brave
+rescue party would appear above the shaft, bearing
+in their arms the sufferers, wailing cries would
+rend the very air, as some poor woman recognised
+her son or her 'good man' in the crushed and
+mangled form they laid so tenderly down!</p>
+
+<p>There was a little cottage standing among others
+of the same class, but which from its appearance
+seemed to betoken the residence of one more refined
+than the rest, for snowy curtains draped the
+windows, the panes of which were scrupulously
+clean, and the doorsteps were as white as hands
+could make them. Going now towards this
+cottage, a group of men might be seen, carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+carrying a heavy burden, over which a sheet was
+spread. It was their foreman&mdash;a man loved and
+respected by them all, and the hearts of these
+rough colliers beat sadly, as they bore him thus
+towards his once happy home!</p>
+
+<p>The rumour of the catastrophe, and of her
+husband being one among the many poor sufferers,
+had burst upon his wife like the surging of an
+angry wave, overwhelming her with its force, and
+she sat with ashen cheeks and quivering lips,
+listening with bated breath for that which she
+knew must come, the while convulsively clasping
+in her arms their only child, their fair-haired
+Davie. But when at last she heard the measured
+tread of those who bore him coming nearer and
+nearer to her door, she rose, with a shivering sob,
+to meet him, as she had ever done, with a loving
+smile, though now her heart was full of anguish.
+And he knew her, for he put out his poor
+crushed hand for her to take, faintly murmuring,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'My poor, poor girl!'</p>
+
+<p>Tenderly, as with the gentle touch of woman,
+those rugged men laid him upon the bed from
+which he had risen in full health and strength,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+and the wife's hand was firm, as softly she removed
+the garments from his mangled limbs. Ah, little
+had she thought, when she bade him 'Good-bye'
+that morning, his return would have been thus.
+He had said to Davie in his merry way, laying his
+hand on the boy's curly head,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, young man, soon you will be the bread-winner;
+your old father will then be able to sit
+idle by the ingle and smoke his pipe, whilst mother
+looks on.'</p>
+
+<p>He had returned to the ingle, but Davie was
+still a child!</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>A few anxious days, and all was over; the end
+had come, and he and his fellow-sufferers were
+laid to rest beneath the fresh green turf in a
+distant churchyard, and the poor young widow
+was alone in the wide world, with only little
+Davie!</p>
+
+<p>But the poor have no time to spare for mourning
+or regrets; they must be up and doing, even
+though their hearts fail them for very sorrow; yet
+none save those who have suffered can know the
+utter desolation of heart, crushing the very soul
+to the earth with despair, when the father, 'the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+bread-winner,' is taken from their midst, and those
+who are left know not where to look for help or
+guidance; and so this poor widow sat by the fire-light,
+with her boy's hand clasped in hers, gazing
+into the glowing embers as if trying to read the
+future therein. The past had been very happy,
+for her girlhood was spent in a far different sphere,
+but she had freely given up all for him who was
+now no more, and had never repented of the sacrifice
+made; but, alas! he was gone, leaving her
+alone, and her heart was like to break. And,
+musing thus, she recalled the tones of the dear
+voice that had ever comforted her when in sadness,
+now silent for ever!&mdash;the brave heart
+so firm of purpose that had ceased to beat!&mdash;and
+as she thought of him who had been so kind, so
+true, her courage gave way, and, burying her face
+in her hands, she sobbed aloud, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Davie, Davie! who will care for us now
+father is gone?'</p>
+
+<p>The child put his arms lovingly around her
+bowed head, as though it was his place to be
+the comforter.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother darling, the Lord will care for us. He
+is the friend of the widow and fatherless.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was something in the boy's voice that
+struck the mother's ear, for she removed her hands
+from before her face, and, drawing him nearer to
+her, gazed earnestly into those clear blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Sudden sorrow often changes the entire nature
+of people, and the events of the last few days had,
+as it were, transformed little Davie from a mere
+child into a thoughtful boy. Like his namesake
+of old, 'he was of a beautiful countenance,' and as
+he caressingly smoothed his mother's pale cheeks
+with his soft, gentle hands, she felt she was not
+desolate, since he was left to her. Long they sat
+in silence. At last the boy said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mother dear, Mat Morgan says that, as I am
+now ten years old, it is time for me to begin work
+like the other lads about here.'</p>
+
+<p>'How, Davie?' she dreamily questioned, for her
+thoughts were wandering far away, so that she
+scarcely heard what he said.</p>
+
+<p>'In the pit with him,' was the reply; 'he is so
+kind and good, I know he will take great care
+of me.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no!' she cried, clasping him yet closer to
+her; 'not in the cruel mine that has robbed us of
+father!&mdash;no&mdash;not there!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Nay, mother darling,' the boy gently urged;
+'it was God who took father home&mdash;and he was
+ready to go! Besides,' he continued, with all the
+hopefulness of youth, 'I could earn some money
+every week, and only think how useful that
+would be!'</p>
+
+<p>'But your poor father did not wish you to be
+a miner; he hoped you would become a great and
+clever man,' the mother replied.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated for a moment. Bright visions
+had filled his young head of gaining riches and
+honours 'some day,' that glorious time of the
+young, and he had thought how proud they both
+would be of him, and they should neither of them
+work any more, but live in a lovely home of <i>his</i>
+providing, and never know care any more. And
+now!&mdash;he clenched his small hands together, and
+choked back the big lump rising in his throat as
+bravely he exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'And I will be a clever man, for I will learn
+at night when I come home, and who knows
+what I may be one day. Mat Morgan says our
+manager was only a poor collier lad once, and
+look at him now. Besides, they are all so good
+to us here; they loved father dearly.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So the boy prevailed over her fears, and in a
+few days he took his place by the side of his old
+friend Mat Morgan, who grew to love him as his
+own child. But the mother's heart was grieved
+when at night her boy returned with the fair
+golden hair rough and tangled, the once delicate
+hands torn and hardening with toil; yet the
+child gave no thought to that. True, this was
+not the life he would have chosen, for he was a
+studious boy, but still, was he not 'the bread-winner'?
+and it was a proudly happy day for him
+when he laid his first earnings in her lap, and felt
+her tears upon his cheek as she kissed and
+blessed her boy.</p>
+
+<p>But the hour he loved the best was when,
+casting aside all care, he sat on a low stool at her
+feet, and, with his head resting on her knee,
+listened as she read aloud their evening chapter
+from the Book of Life; he was then the child
+again, not the toiling little miner-lad!&mdash;and oh,
+it was so peaceful!</p>
+
+<p>'"Consider the lilies of the field, they toil not,
+neither do they spin,"' read the mother one evening.</p>
+
+<p>'But, mother, what are lilies like? I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+never seen one, you know,' asked the boy, when
+she had ceased reading and had closed the book.</p>
+
+<p>In simple language, she endeavoured to describe
+to her town-born child the exquisite beauties of
+the flowers of the field, and he, with an innate
+love of the beautiful, caught readily at all she
+said, and seemed as though he saw them all as
+she depicted.</p>
+
+<p>'How I should love to be where there are
+always flowers!' he exclaimed; 'it must be like
+paradise! But those I have seen always close
+up at night. I wish there was one here that
+opened of an evening, as if to greet me when I
+come home!'</p>
+
+<p>I know not how it happened, but the next
+night, when little Davie entered his home, a
+delicious perfume filled the air, and standing in
+the cottage window was an Evening Primrose,
+with its petals fully expanded.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, mother,' cried the boy, 'my wish
+has come true! here is a flower opening its
+blossoms to bid me welcome home;' and in excess
+of delight he knelt and kissed his treasure again
+and again. And words cannot express the love
+he bestowed upon the plant; it was to him an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+unfeigned joy to watch the growing of each leaf,
+the gradual unfolding of each fresh bud; and
+every night, on his return from work, his first
+thought, after the thought for his mother, was of
+his sweet Evening Primrose.</p>
+
+<p>Those who gather flowers at will, prize them
+for a while, then cast them carelessly aside, can
+form no idea of the all-absorbing love the little
+miner lad evinced for his one fair flower; it was
+his sole treasure, and he ever watched and tended
+it lovingly and well.</p>
+
+<p>But time passed on, and it was Davie's last
+day in the coal-mine. He was going to exchange
+that toilsome life, so uncongenial to his taste, but
+which stern necessity had made him adopt, for a
+new and brighter occupation, one, too, for which
+he had always ardently longed. The manager of
+whom he had spoken to his mother had frequently
+noticed the gentle, fair-haired boy; prosperity had
+not hardened <i>his</i> heart (as it so often does), and
+recollections of the long-ago flashed ever across
+him, when he saw Davie bravely striving to do
+his best to help his mother bear her burden of
+sorrowful poverty. He too had been a collier lad
+in those far-off days, and 'the only son of <i>his</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+mother, and she was a widow.' The grass was
+green above that dear mother's grave, whose latter
+years had been cheered and comforted by his
+tender, fostering love; but his thoughts were of
+her, as, laying his hand upon the lad's curly head,
+he kindly asked,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Would you like to leave the pit-work, David,
+and go into the engineers' department?'</p>
+
+<p>'What! and become a great man like Stephenson
+and Brunel? Oh yes, sir!' the boy joyfully
+exclaimed, for, like all youthful ambitions
+he vaulted at once to the highest pinnacle of
+greatness&mdash;there is no midway for the ardent
+young.</p>
+
+<p>The manager smiled at his enthusiasm, as he
+replied,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'You can but try, my lad, to be as great and
+good as they were;' and he added, 'You can enter
+upon your new work next week; there is a vacancy
+for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, sir,'&mdash;and the boy paused,&mdash;'shall I earn
+wages like I do now? because'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>And his voice failed him, he could not utter
+the thought of his heart,&mdash;should he still be able to
+help his mother?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The gentleman understood his hesitation, for he
+said kindly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, my little man, you will earn good wages,
+and, if you are only good and steady like your
+poor father before you, I've no doubt but that
+you may become a great man one day;' and he
+smiled encouragingly into the boy's upturned face,
+a face which was beaming with hope and happiness.</p>
+
+<p>As to Davie, he raised his generous friend's
+hand to his lips, for he could not speak for very
+gratitude; then, with his blue eyes sparkling
+with joy, ran quickly home to tell the blissful
+news.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, mother!' he cried, bursting in upon
+her as she sat at work; 'I <i>shall</i> become a great
+man now, and you shall ride in a carriage, and
+never work any more;' and then, with his arms
+around her neck and his curly head resting lovingly
+upon her shoulder, he poured forth his bright
+hopes for the future.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>So the last day came for working in the dark
+mine, and to-morrow&mdash;oh, to-morrow!</p>
+
+<p>'But I'll miss ye, Davie,' Mat Morgan observed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+as he and his little friend trudged on side by
+side to work; 'ye be bright and cheery-like down
+there,' pointing with his pipe towards the pit.
+'And maybe ye'll forget the missis and me when
+ye gets to be a great man, as ye says ye'll be one
+day, and I makes no doubt but ye will be too.
+Ye be summat like yer poor fayther, my lad; he
+were allers above we.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nay, Master Morgan!' cried the boy reproachfully;
+'were you not my first friend, when dear
+father died? You don't mean that, I know!
+looking up at his old friend's rugged face with
+eyes full of tears. Then, brushing them away
+with his jacket sleeve,&mdash;it was not manly to cry,
+he thought,&mdash;he continued, 'No, when I am rich,
+you and Mrs. Morgan shall both live in a big
+house with mother and me; we will ride in a
+grand carriage, and be so happy all together,
+and never look at black coals except to burn
+them.'</p>
+
+<p>The old miner smiled as he listened to the
+boy's bright day-dreams, yet still he could not
+help feeling somewhat sad, for he dearly loved
+the lad, and knew how much he should miss
+his merry chatter and song, which so beguiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+the time while they worked together down in the
+mine.</p>
+
+<p>But the time passed on much as on other days;
+when, just as they were preparing to leave off
+work, and another gang was coming to relieve
+them, a low, rumbling sound was heard. One or
+two of the men ran to the entrance of the working,
+Mat Morgan among the number, and his
+face was blanched when he returned to his comrades.</p>
+
+<p>'What is it, Master Morgan?' asked Davie,
+looking up at him with an undefined dread.</p>
+
+<p>'My lad,' was his reply, and his voice was very
+calm, 'there has been a landslip in the sidings,
+and we are shut in.'</p>
+
+<p>'But can we not get out?' he questioned.</p>
+
+<p>'No, never again, unless help comes,' he
+hoarsely whispered, for his brave heart stood
+still at the terrible danger they were in.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, no pen can express the terror that filled
+the hearts of these brave and hardy men at the
+thought of being thus entombed in a living
+grave; they quailed not when meeting death face
+to face, but shrank in dread at the slowly advancing
+foe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All but the boy!</p>
+
+<p>The light from the flickering lamps the miners
+carried fell upon his delicate features; but his
+eyes brightly gleamed, as, laying his hands on the
+bowed head of his old friend, he softly said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Master Morgan, let us not fear; our God is
+with us still!'</p>
+
+<p>'Maybe He has forgotten us, Davie,' the man
+pitifully moaned, for even his strong courage had
+broken down in face of this calamity.</p>
+
+<p>'No, no,' soothed the boy. '"Yea, though I walk
+through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
+fear no evil; for Thou art with me:" is it not
+so?'</p>
+
+<p>There was something so calm, so trustful in
+the child's faith in God's mercy, that the poor
+stricken men listened as he tried to cheer them
+with thoughts of that Power who is mighty to
+save.</p>
+
+<p>The weary hours dragged their slow length
+along, and, though help came not yet, his perfect
+trust in God never wavered. Some of the men
+gave themselves up to despair, and lay down where
+they had sat cowering, prepared to die. The
+lamps went out by degrees as the oil was expended,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+adding to the horror of the situation by leaving
+them in utter darkness. And yet, though death
+appeared so near, it had no terrors for little Davie,
+for God was nearer still.</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I sing to you, Master Morgan?' the boy
+asked, as he laid his weary head down upon his
+friend's broad shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>'Ay, ay, my lad,' was the sole reply the poor
+man could make.</p>
+
+<p>Then through the awful silence and darkness
+of this fearful grave rang the sweet, clear tones of
+the child's voice, singing&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+'Rock of Ages, cleft for me,<br />
+Let me hide myself in Thee.'<br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>'Hark!' he cried, suddenly pausing in the
+hymn; 'they are striving to clear the working&mdash;I
+hear the sound of their picks! We are saved!
+we are saved!' he joyously shouted.</p>
+
+<p>With the sense of hearing preternaturally
+sharpened, these poor men, who had given themselves
+up for lost, also listened; those who had
+lain down to die rising up and listening with
+every nerve acutely strained to catch the faintest
+sound. Yes, they could hear their deliverers
+bravely working to set them free.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then arose as with one voice their glad song of
+deliverance,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+'Thou canst save, and Thou alone!'<br />
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>Tenderly they bore him home to his mother,
+that brave, noble child, whose simple trust had
+sustained their failing hearts in that hour of trial
+and suffering.</p>
+
+<p>But reaction had set in, and he was weak and
+fainting when they laid him in her arms, yet he
+feebly murmured, striving for her sake to appear
+still strong,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, mother darling, I am so glad to be at
+home again! I thought I should never more see
+you, nor my Evening Primrose. But, mother, why
+is it still so dark?'</p>
+
+<p>She glanced in terror at his soft blue eyes,
+which to her looked as clear as ever. But why
+was it that, though the morning light was streaming
+in through the open window, to him it still
+was dark?</p>
+
+<p>She breathed not one word of her fear to him,
+though the icy dread chilled her to the heart, but,
+laying him gently down in his own cosy bed,
+Soothed him with loving caresses, bidding him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Try to sleep, and forget it all!'</p>
+
+<p>Then, when sleep came to the over-wrought
+brain, she left him in the care of a kindly neighbour,
+and went tremblingly forth to seek her
+child's trusty old friend.</p>
+
+<p>She found Mat Morgan seated in his arm-chair
+(for, like the rest of the miners who had been
+in this imminent peril, he had escaped unhurt),
+recounting to a group of neighbours the wonderful
+faith of little Davie, whose trust in God
+never failed, even when the shadows of the
+dark angel's wings had hovered so closely over
+them.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Master Morgan!' the poor mother cried,
+as with clasped hands and quivering lips she overheard
+him thus dilating on her boy's noble fortitude
+and humble Christian faith; 'my darling
+Davie! he will never, never look on us again this
+side the grave. He'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'He be no dead, ma'am!' exclaimed the old man,
+starting from his chair, while sympathizing friends
+gathered round her with words of tender pity.</p>
+
+<p>'No, no, not dead, thank God!' she sobbed;
+'but blind, I fear. Oh, my little boy, my Davie!'</p>
+
+<p>'Maybe not,' he replied, endeavouring to comfort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+her. 'I'll jest go wi' ye. I've known sich things
+afore, when men have been shut up in the dark
+some hours,&mdash;and <i>we</i> were nigh upon three days in
+the pit, mind ye&mdash;the shock of seein' the daylight
+kind o' dazes the sight for a while. So ye must
+not greet, but hope and trust in our heavenly
+Father, as your little lad ever does, I'm thinkin'!
+Come along.'</p>
+
+<p>How eagerly did she hasten home, all anxiety
+to prove if the old miner's opinion was right, and
+'hoping against hope' that the child's sight had
+become cleared while he slept, and that when he
+awoke he would look upon her with unclouded
+eyes. Her heart beat so violently she could
+scarcely speak, as, standing by his bedside, she saw
+his blue eyes were unclosed and apparently gazing
+upon her where she stood with Mat Morgan by
+her side.</p>
+
+<p>'Davie,' she whispered softly, bending over him
+and kissing the parted lips, 'here is Master
+Morgan come to see you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where is he?' the boy joyfully cried. 'He
+is not hurt, then? Oh, I am so glad! But, mother
+dear, I cannot see him, nor you; there seems
+like a shadow over my eyes. Oh, mother,' he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+piteously moaned, as the sad truth appeared to
+strike him, 'tell me, I am not blind, am I?'</p>
+
+<p>Then, as she could not for very anguish reply
+to his eager question, his noble courage gave way,
+and, throwing himself upon his pillow, he uttered a
+piercing cry of untold despair.</p>
+
+<p>The poor mother knelt beside him with arms
+closely folding him to her heart, unable to soothe,
+save with loving caresses, her child's unutterable
+anguish.</p>
+
+<p>'Nay, Davie, my man,' cried the old miner,
+wiping his eyes with the back of his rough hand,
+'ye did no greet when death a'most stared us
+in the face; why do ye sorrow now, my brave
+lad?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, but then I should have been with God!
+Now'&mdash;and his sobs redoubled&mdash;'I shall never see
+mother's dear face again, nor yours, Master Morgan;
+and for me my Evening Primrose will never open
+its buds again. And oh, if I am blind, I can
+never more be mother's little bread-winner.'</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>The parable is told!</p>
+
+<p>Little Davie eventually recovered his sight,
+thanks to the generous kindness of the manager,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+who spared no means to procure the best surgical aid
+for the poor little lad; and in the years that quickly
+followed, he became the stay and comfort of his
+widowed mother, retaining ever his filial affection
+for her, and cherishing fond recollections of those
+early days when his only treasures were her love
+and his Evening Primrose.</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i067082.png" width="158" height="200" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i068115.png" width="590" height="150" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_FIFTH" id="PARABLE_FIFTH"></a>PARABLE FIFTH.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE LITTLE SEED&mdash;KINDNESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropw.png" width="143" height="190" alt="'W" style="margin-top: -1em;" /></span><span class="upper">hy,</span> what have you got in your beak?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+asked a dingy London Sparrow of
+another, just as dingy as himself.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I hardly know,' replied his friend,
+laying down the article in question, and
+surveying it critically with his head on one side;
+'but it seems to me as though it is a seed&mdash;of
+some sort!'</p>
+
+<p>'So it is,' assented the other, as he hopped
+nearer and attentively examined the treasure-trove.
+'Yes,'&mdash;as if the idea had suddenly suggested
+itself,&mdash;'yes, it <i>is</i> a seed. Where did you find it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I did not steal it,' exclaimed the owner of the
+property, who evidently resented a something in
+his companion's manner of questioning; 'I honestly
+picked it up in a garden, where it was lying on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+the <i>top</i> of the earth, not <i>in</i> it,' he added, with
+emphasis. 'I expect the wind blew it there, for
+the gales have been very high these last few days.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, yes,' replied the questioner with alacrity;
+perhaps he feared he had wounded his friend's
+feelings, and dreaded lest there might ensue a
+squabble, for sparrows, it must be confessed, are
+easily affronted over trifles, though, as a rule, they
+are good-tempered little fellows enough, putting up
+with scanty fare and homely lodgings very contentedly
+and cheerfully. 'I wonder what kind
+of seed it is, do you know?' he still further
+questioned, being of an inquisitive turn of mind.</p>
+
+<p>'No, I do not,' replied the finder.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah,' he said, with a sigh that ruffled all his
+feathers, 'if we did but live in the beautiful
+green hedgerows, instead of dwelling among town
+chimneys, we should soon know what it was; our
+country cousins would be able to tell us in a
+moment if it was good to eat or not. By the bye,
+shall you eat it?' he pursued, eyeing his friend in
+the same keen way as he eyed occasional crumbs
+of bread, his sharp little eye glancing quick and
+bright whilst waiting for the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'No,' answered the other; 'I shall give it away.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Give it away!' he repeated, in utter astonishment
+at the idea; 'who to?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, in my travels about this city, I have
+noticed a small window up among the chimneys
+in the East End of London&mdash;it's a mere garret, I
+expect.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well?' ejaculated the listener, somewhat impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>'I have also observed,' pursued his companion
+deliberately, 'that on the ledge of this window
+there are two or three flower-pots with some tiny
+pieces of green trying to shoot out of the dry
+mould.'</p>
+
+<p>'What have those flower-pots and the dry
+mould to do with this seed?' was the question he
+sharply put.</p>
+
+<p>'I think,' continued the other Sparrow, not
+heeding the interruption, 'this must be a flower-seed,
+since I found it in a garden well known to
+me for its loveliness,&mdash;for, as a rule, I go about
+with my eyes open,' he added. 'Now at this attic
+window of which I spoke,' he went on saying, 'I
+have seen a poor pale-faced girl for ever bending
+over needlework, although sometimes, but very
+rarely, I have observed her carefully watering and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+tending those flower-pots with their feeble attempts
+at greenery.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you nearly finished your touching description?'
+asked the friend, with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>'Now,' went on the Sparrow, as though he had
+not heard this remark, 'the soil does not look very
+inviting, yet I have been thinking that, as there
+has been rain during the night, the mould may be
+a little softened perhaps; so if I alight on the
+window-sill, and drop this seed into one of those
+pots, a pretty flower <i>might</i> come up in time, and
+then how glad the poor girl would be!&mdash;why, it
+would actually give her happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>And the reflection merely of this hoped-for
+pleasure so brightened up the little bird that he
+looked positively lovely! Not even a bird of
+paradise could have appeared more glorious, dingy
+brown though our tiny hero's plumage was; but
+good deeds and kind words always bring a brightness
+with them.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, that is what you intend doing!' remarked
+the other, who had been pruning his flecked
+feathers whilst listening to this delightful plan;&mdash;perhaps
+he might have imagined the treasure
+would come to him, since his friend was not going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+to keep it himself. 'You are very generous,' he
+added, with a slight touch of sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>But the kind little Sparrow did not mind; his
+heart was too full of noble intentions to notice
+trivial things. He merely said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'So now I'm off! Good-bye for the present. I
+shall be back in time for roost.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you are going, are you?' was the comment,
+as his friend picked up the seed again in
+his beak and flew away.</p>
+
+<p>But, as he darted off, a sunbeam peeped round
+a corner just to see what the dear little fellow
+looked like, and this very sunbeam threw such a
+halo around him, you would have thought his
+feathers had been burnished gold. Then his voice,
+too, sounded so cheerily, as, with a merry 'Twit-twit-twee,'
+he disappeared from view, intent on his
+errand of kindness.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sure I should not have troubled myself
+to carry that burden so far, but should have eaten
+it for my dinner,' muttered the one sitting on
+the water-spout. 'Dear me, what's that?' as he
+caught sight of a shadow round an angle of the
+roof. 'Oh, gracious!' and he gave such a jump in
+his terror, as he recognised Pussie taking a walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+on the tiles, looking out for her dinner, no
+doubt.</p>
+
+<p>You may be quite sure Mr. Sparrow did not
+wait until Pussie came up to him, but flew away
+to a safe distance.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the other bird was speeding on his
+errand of kindness. He did not feel the weight
+of his burden, but went bravely on, only occasionally
+resting on a water-spout or a parapet, just for
+a second or two, but never losing sight of his
+precious seed; though sometimes he was sadly
+annoyed by other Sparrows coming up, and, with
+great fuss and chatter, inquiring as to what he
+was so carefully carrying. But he was very
+cautious, and always kept an eye upon his treasure
+(answering their questions curtly), for London
+Sparrows have the character of being not <i>too</i>
+honest, with what truth it cannot be said; let us
+hope the charge is unfounded. Still our hero
+thought it advisable to be watchful; therefore,
+after satisfying all curiosity on the subject, as
+much at least as he deemed needful, he flew off
+again on his mission&mdash;without telling them the
+ultimate destination of his seed, fearing, perhaps,
+they might be unable to resist the temptation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+picking it out of the mould into which he intended
+to drop it.</p>
+
+<p>By and by he left the more respectable part of
+the city, and winged his way as near as he could
+remember towards the attic window, where he
+had so often seen the poor work-girl busy at her
+weary task. But a heavy cloud of smoke darkened
+the air, and a perfect forest of masts bewildered
+him, for he had come to that part of London
+where the ships are to be seen&mdash;thousands of
+vessels from all countries of the world. Still,
+though he was puzzled for a while, yet he felt sure
+the house was near this place, as he recollected
+having seen these docks before. What should he
+do? He paused for a bit upon a slanting roof just
+to look around. Oh, the smuts, how they settled
+upon his feathers! he was obliged to preen himself,
+he felt so dirty; if his coat was a dingy brown,
+there was no occasion for its being dirty also!
+All at once, as he paused during the process of
+preening, he saw the very window right in front of
+him,&mdash;he recognised it by its cleanliness, such a
+contrast to the squalor around. Yes, there it was,
+the polished panes of glass glinting in the gleams
+of light that came now and then through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+murky atmosphere; and there were the three flower-pots.
+Why, actually they had been washed, they
+looked so freshly red!&mdash;or perhaps painted.</p>
+
+<p>Away he joyfully flew, his task was nearly done;
+but alas for hopes of birds or people! Just as
+he was about to alight upon the window-sill, a
+tiresome bird&mdash;a Sparrow&mdash;came flying towards
+him, exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Hallo! who are you, I should like to know?'
+and so startled was he when accosted thus abruptly,
+that in his fright he dropped his dear and precious
+treasure.</p>
+
+<p>Down, down it fell upon a deal case a man was
+wheeling on a truck. The man did not notice the
+tiny grain that fell; perhaps, had he done so, would
+merely have thought it was a particle of dust;
+but the poor bird's heart was sorely grieved as he
+saw it disappear, after all the trouble he had
+taken to bring it thus far, and he sat upon the
+window-ledge of the girl's room with ruffled plumage
+and dim eyes, utterly crushed by this untoward
+loss. It was too bad!</p>
+
+<p>But after a while he took heart, and looked the
+disappointment boldly in the face, which is always
+the better plan than brooding over it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'It can't be helped,' he said wisely, rousing
+from his sorrowful reflections, and giving his
+feathers a shake together. 'I did my best, and
+could do no more. It is a loss certainly, but no
+doubt there are other flower-seeds to be found, so
+I'll go to-morrow morning to that same garden,
+and see if there are any more to be had. Dear
+me!' he continued, glancing up with his now
+bright eyes at the sky; 'why, it is getting late.
+I must make haste home, or else my friends
+will be anxious, and fear that I have come to
+grief.'</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he flew away, not without a note of
+farewell to the girl, who had been looking at him
+all the time he sat there so disconsolately, wondering
+in her own mind why he was perched there so
+ruffled and sad, little dreaming of his kindly
+intentions towards her&mdash;how should she?&mdash;so
+away he went, and reached his place of abode
+just as his brothers and friends were going to
+roost.</p>
+
+<p>You may be quite sure he was received with a
+perfect volley of questions.</p>
+
+<p>'Where have you been?' asked some who were
+ignorant of his scheme.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'How did you manage?' questioned others who
+knew.</p>
+
+<p>'What sort of a place is it?' inquired several.</p>
+
+<p>Poor little bird! he was obliged to confess his
+failure, which he did with reluctance; yet still he
+bore his disappointment so cheerfully and bravely,
+they could not help sympathizing with him,
+promising to help in the good work next time.
+Even the Sparrow who had jeered somewhat at
+him was really sorry, and consoled him so kindly,
+that he went to sleep with his head tucked under
+his wing, in a far happier frame of mind than he
+could have supposed possible, after such a grievous
+sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>And the seed?</p>
+
+<p>As it was being jostled on the top of the
+packing-case, it thought to itself:</p>
+
+<p>'There's an end to me, I suppose. I shall be
+shrivelled up to nothing for want of nourishing
+earth, and shall do good to no one. What a pity
+that dear little Sparrow's kind intention was frustrated
+by that meddlesome and inquisitive bird!
+I am sure I would have done my duty to the
+utmost, and realized his wish by growing as fast
+as possible, and looking cheerful and gay when in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+flower. Well, well, it is no use being unhappy; I
+must only wait patiently, hoping that a chance
+of doing good may occur. Who knows what may
+happen?'</p>
+
+<p>And at that very moment, the truck the man was
+wheeling gave a lurch, and in consequence the
+tiny seed rolled along until it slipped down a
+crevice in the lid, and found a comfortable resting-place
+inside amongst some soft hay with which
+the case was packed.</p>
+
+<p>'This is cosy,' it remarked, nestling in the
+warmth; 'perhaps after all I am reserved for some
+good purpose. I had become desponding, but
+there is always a brightness behind the darkest
+cloud.'</p>
+
+<p>So it cuddled down contentedly, not knowing
+or heeding whither it was taken, only resting
+satisfied with the reflection that whatever happened
+was for the best. And so the packing-case
+was put on board one of the great ships
+in the docks, and in a few days away sailed the
+ship, packing-case, and little seed, far over the
+ocean, leaving England many thousand miles
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>Not having been to Australia, we cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+describe what the little seed next beheld. But
+when the sun once again shone upon it, it was
+in a very different country to this dear land of
+ours.</p>
+
+<p>The case had been emptied of its contents, and
+the hay and straw with which it had been packed
+was thrown aside upon the ground, and there lay
+the seed, so tiny that it was quite unheeded, indeed
+it is to be doubted whether it was even seen; but
+the loving God, who has created nothing in vain,
+had still a use for the small grain. A soft wind
+came and carried it to some moist earth, into which
+it sank, thankful for the rest and quiet after the
+past turmoil.</p>
+
+<p>But its work was not finished.</p>
+
+<p>By and by came up a little slender green shoot,
+then a leaf or two, and after a while, in due
+season, some pretty bell-shaped flowers, almost
+white, with just a tinge of delicate purple, made
+their appearance, and there they swayed in the
+breeze&mdash;English Wood Anemones in a distant
+land.</p>
+
+<p>And in this distant land a young English girl
+had her home; and bright and beautiful it was,
+with huge trees and gorgeous flowers, unheard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+and unseen in the country village from which she
+had come. But, bright and beautiful as her new
+home was, she often sighed for the green hedgerows
+and sweet wayside flowers of dear old
+England; not that she murmured because God
+had sent her thither, only the love of her old
+home and old home memories yet lingered in her
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Think, then, what her joy was, when, one day as
+she wandered alone, gazing on gorgeous blossoms
+rich in brilliant colours, down at her feet she spied,
+waving its delicate-tinted elf-bells in the warm,
+soft breeze, the Wood Anemone.</p>
+
+<p>Could it be possible? That well-known English
+flower blooming there! How could it have come
+across the ocean?</p>
+
+<p>Ah, how often had she seen it at home&mdash;for
+England is ever home to those who are far away&mdash;seen
+it in the early spring days clustering thickly
+in the woods and copse, heralding the cuckoo,
+and bringing with it a promise of summer days to
+come.</p>
+
+<p>'Dear, dear little flower!' she cried, kneeling
+down and kissing, in excess of joy, its delicate
+petals. 'Welcome a thousand times, for you bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+with you memories from the old land. I will not
+gather your pretty flowers, nor take them away to
+myself, but will leave you here, so that others,
+perhaps more home-sick than I, will take heart,
+and be cheered by your soothing though silent
+message.'</p>
+
+<p>And the young girl was right.</p>
+
+<p>Others passing by&mdash;some poor wanderers, footsore
+and weary&mdash;were cheered by the bonnie wild-flower,
+which, happy in giving happiness to others,
+swayed its tiny bells as it danced in utter gladness,
+whispering to the wild bees who also came to
+visit it,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I thought at one time, when the Sparrow let
+me fall, that there was no more use for me in the
+world, that my work was finished; but God had
+still a mission for me, and I have done what
+others equally small can do&mdash;given happiness, and
+cheered those who came across my path. It is
+not much to do,' it continued meekly, 'not great
+and glorious deeds at which the world stands
+amazed; but it was all I could do, and was the
+work He meant for me&mdash;we must not despise
+the day of small things. The acorn is very
+small, yet look at the oak. A gentle word, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+bright smile, is not hard to bestow, but oh, the
+blessing they can be to hearts pining perhaps for
+kindness!'</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>So the Sparrow's good intention was carried out
+after all.</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i067082.png" width="158" height="200" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i083.png" width="590" height="175" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_SIXTH" id="PARABLE_SIXTH"></a>PARABLE SIXTH.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE CROWN IMPERIAL&mdash;HOPE.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_droph.png" width="133" height="189" alt="H" style="margin-top: -1em;" /></span><span class="upper">ave</span> you ever seen a Crown Imperial,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+that lovely flower which comes in
+the early spring-time, just after the
+Snowdrops have gone? You will not find
+it in <i>new</i> gardens, I fear; but in those delightful
+shady nooks and corners where the old-fashioned
+flowers seem to come and go just as
+they please, there it is to be found, coming up
+year after year in all its beauty, and yet, though
+so lovely, meekly drooping its velvet petals, upon
+which tear-drops are ever resting.</p>
+
+<p>It has been said that it droops thus in humiliation,
+because its pride was once rebuked; but
+I do not think that aught so lovely could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+unduly proud! Even the acknowledged queen
+of the garden, the stately Rose, is gentle in
+her beauty; and 'Consider the lilies,' though
+'Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed' like
+them, yet how meekly they bloom beneath our
+feet!</p>
+
+<p>Then shall the Crown Imperial tell its tale to
+you, and see what lesson we can learn from it?
+No, an old yew tree shall relate the story. Listen
+to what it says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Many, many years have I stood on this spot,
+from the time that I was a tiny sapling until now,
+when my branches spread far and wide, covering
+the earth beneath with shadow. Summer sunshine
+has touched with its fiercely scorching breath,
+and winter snows have shrouded me in fleecy
+garments, but the old yew tree has weathered
+so far the storms of life, growing year by year
+more twisted and gnarled as time passed on.
+I have seen the song-birds come and depart;
+some have even built their nests within my
+leafy branches. I have watched sweet flowers
+blossom, then fade, but among the many lovely
+flowerets I have loved&mdash;for the old dry tree
+has a tender heart, my children&mdash;there was one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+whose very gentleness made me love it even
+yet more dearly. It was a Crown Imperial.</p>
+
+<p>'The spring was commencing to gladden the
+earth when first I perceived it, forcing its way
+timidly through the soft grassy lawn of an old, old
+garden. Who had placed the parent bulb beneath
+that turf was never known, for the owners of the
+estate had passed with their generation from the
+land, and strangers had come to reside in the
+ancient homestead, but there was this fragile plant,
+outliving, as it were, those who had planted it,
+and coming up, year after year, to gladden other
+eyes than those which had first beheld its beauty&mdash;like
+good actions and gentle words&mdash;imperishable!</p>
+
+<p>'So day by day I watched it grow, stronger and
+stronger, higher and higher, and, as it grew, spreading
+gradually its beautiful, shining leaves; but
+when it had reached its full height, behold, it was
+crowned with a diadem of the softest green&mdash;an
+emerald crown worthy the brow of a queen!</p>
+
+<p>'Then by degrees I saw its blossoms begin to
+unfold, the velvet petals richer far than the feeble
+looms of man can weave; but, as they unclosed, to
+my intense surprise, they were not uplifted to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+sunshine and blue sky, but meekly bowed&mdash;drooping
+earthward.</p>
+
+<p>'"They will gaze upward by and by," I said to
+myself, "and, when they know and feel the power
+of their beauty, will court the admiration they are
+sure to win."</p>
+
+<p>'But I was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>'Pride had no place within their lowly hearts&mdash;never
+were their flowers lifted up&mdash;their glances
+were ever bent in sweet humility towards the green
+sod from which they had sprung, and, as I gazed
+upon them, I saw that on each lovely petal there
+ever rested a tear.</p>
+
+<p>'"Why this sadness?" I mused. "Surely so
+lovely and guileless a flower can know no sorrow,
+since sorrow often goes hand in hand with sin;
+this Crown Imperial must surely be as faultless as
+it is beautiful!"</p>
+
+<p>'Yet I hesitated to ask the reason; there was
+a gentle and reserved timidity about it, that
+checked all questionings. The cause of this unspoken
+grief would be revealed to me sooner or
+later, I felt convinced.</p>
+
+<p>'The days passed on with sunshine and shadows,
+and, as the hours fled, I saw with regret that stern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+Time had relentlessly breathed with his withering
+breath upon my much-loved flower! Gradually
+and slowly its blossoms pined, the lovely colours
+faded,&mdash;almost imperceptibly, 'tis true, still they
+faded,&mdash;its fresh green crown became less purely
+bright, and I knew with anguish my sweet one
+was dying.</p>
+
+<p>'Then, and not till then, did it raise its faint
+eyes heavenward&mdash;they were tearless now. I
+could restrain my wonder no more.</p>
+
+<p>'"Why, oh, why wert thou weeping and gazing
+ever earthward when in thy peerless beauty, sad
+and disconsolate&mdash;and now that thou art fading
+from us thou art happy?" I asked in my sorrowful
+regret; perhaps reproach was mingled with my
+complaint.</p>
+
+<p>'"Is it not ever so?" the gentle flower replied.
+"Whilst burdened with Life's sorrows, our eyes are
+tear-dimmed. The cares of this world press
+heavily upon our hearts, so that we scarce can lift
+our thoughts from this earth&mdash;cold and weary
+though it is&mdash;to gaze upward. It is only when
+we are passing from all shadows into the Divine
+Light that we can look heavenward, yet even then
+the tear-drops linger. But when earthly sojourners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+have passed through the dark valley into the
+Eternal Brightness, then, and only then, will they
+be freed from anguish; then, and only then,
+will eyes be no longer dimmed by sorrow&mdash;for
+God Himself shall wipe away all tears!"'</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i088.png" width="178" height="138" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i007089.png" width="550" height="138" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_SEVENTH" id="PARABLE_SEVENTH"></a>PARABLE SEVENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE TWO LEAVES&mdash;DISCONTENT.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropo.png" width="129" height="190" alt="O" style="margin-top: -.5em;" /></span><span class="upper">nce</span> upon a time, as the good old fairy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+tales always begin, there grew by the
+side of a little brook a large Oak tree.</p>
+
+<p>The brook was a bright, sunlit stream,
+gliding along so cheerfully to join the river,
+between grassy banks, kissing the willows which
+bent down towards it, or whispering softly to the
+blue Forget-me-nots; and so clear was it, you
+could see the smooth pebbles lying at the bottom,
+and the fish skimming along gaily, as if there
+were no such things in the whole world as fishing-rods.</p>
+
+<p>All through the day it rippled merrily, catching
+every ray of sunlight that flickered through the
+trees or the blue sky above; but if an angry black
+cloud ever chanced to see itself reflected in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+clear mirror, it scudded away as if ashamed of
+looking so dark.</p>
+
+<p>But at night, when the holy stars were shining,
+ah, how softly the little brook murmured to them!
+you could almost fancy it did not babble so loudly
+as in the day-time, for fear lest it should wake the
+sleeping flowers on its mossy banks.</p>
+
+<p>It was a happy little stream, so calm, so placid,
+no angry ripples ever disturbed its pure surface,
+over which the Swallows lightly skimmed. And
+it meandered along for many miles; sometimes you
+would lose sight of it altogether, then out it would
+come from some quiet, grassy nook, gaily sparkling,
+and glide with a merry sound, as if laughing,
+towards the steady rushes, and they would sway
+to and fro at its approach, dancing to its rippling
+music.</p>
+
+<p>But, as I was saying, a sturdy Oak grew by the
+side of the brook; it had sprung from an acorn
+many hundred years ago, now it was very old.
+Wintry storms had vainly tried to subdue it;
+many a time they had bent its branches, plucked
+at its roots, but fruitless was their fury, for the
+noble tree firmly held its place, rearing its proud
+head more loftily than ever; and so the storms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+finding their power availed them nought, passed
+away over the land, howling with rage at their
+failure.</p>
+
+<p>Then, oh, how the birds loved the clear old tree!
+Summer after summer did they return to build
+nests among its moss-grown branches; and the
+branches, glad that the songsters had come back
+again, would put forth green leaves to hide them
+from prying eyes, so that they could rest there
+securely. Can you wonder, then, that they sang
+sweet songs of gratitude to it, and that the little
+brook should murmur her sweet melody as she
+glided along at its feet?</p>
+
+<p>On the opposite bank grew an Aspen.</p>
+
+<p>It was not so old as the Oak, who had seen it
+grow up from a mere sapling; still they had been
+neighbours for many years, and the graceful Aspen
+looked with love and reverence upon her aged
+friend's sturdy face and form. Often, in the calm
+summer nights, the Oak would talk to her of the
+days of the long-ago; you would have thought it
+was merely the breeze sighing amidst the branches,
+but it was the voice of the Oak telling of the
+past.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the birds imagined the Aspen to be a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+weak, trembling tree, quivering always with fear
+at the slightest wind that ruffled its branches.</p>
+
+<p>'Scarcely safe to build a nest in!' so said an
+old motherly Rook, who had reared many a brood.</p>
+
+<p>But the fairies who danced beneath its shade
+on bright moonlight nights knew better; they
+knew that the fragile-<i>looking</i> tree never trembled
+with fear; they had often seen it meekly bend
+beneath the sway of the fierce wintry blasts,
+knowing full well whose hand guided the storm;
+and when the summer came they knew that then
+it quivered with happiness at being created on so
+fair an earth, and that its leaves only shook with
+quiet laughter as it listened to the merry chatter
+of the brook.</p>
+
+<p>Well&mdash;winter had passed with his frosts and
+snows, and spring was scattering her flowers everywhere.
+The Cuckoo was calling aloud, 'Cuckoo,
+cuckoo,' all day long, never heeding the young
+folks who mocked his song; even the Swallows
+had returned from the warm, sunny South, and
+were for ever skimming over the brook, just
+dipping their wings into its limpid waves, then off
+again with the joyous 'Twit, twit, twit.' The
+meadows, too, were yellow with buttercups, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+which the cows waded knee-deep. Talk of the
+Field of the Cloth of Gold! Francis the First
+would have been a clever man could he have
+made such an one!&mdash;no earthly king could create
+golden fields like these.</p>
+
+<p>All nature was rejoicing in earth's brightness,
+and our old friends the Oak and the Aspen as
+much as any. They had put forth their fresh
+green leaves, and beneath their shade many a tired
+traveller rested from the noonday sun, thanking
+them both in his heart for the welcome shelter.</p>
+
+<p>During the winter the Oak had not been idle,
+for it had extended its branches far and wide;
+one, indeed, stretched right across the brook, in
+fact, almost touched its opposite neighbour, and
+the Aspen welcomed it gladly. You would have
+thought it great happiness to live in such a lovely
+spot, I know, but there is never perfect bliss, and
+if little folks <i>will</i> be discontented, they make the
+prettiest place appear wretched and miserable.</p>
+
+<p>Now, among the leaves of the Oak there was
+one that was always restless and fidgety. In vain
+the sweet birds perched near and sang to him,
+and the gentle brook murmured tales of other
+scenes&mdash;he never seemed happy. The fairies, too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+as I before said, danced by moonlight at the very
+foot of the parent tree, yet even that brave sight
+gave him no pleasure, though his brother and
+sister leaves would clap their tiny hands in
+ecstasy.</p>
+
+<p>'It disturbed his sleep,' he said. 'Why could
+they not dance in the day-time?&mdash;not when all
+respectable leaves and flowers were sleeping!
+making such a noise, especially that mischievous
+Puck!'</p>
+
+<p>And, unfortunately, he grew on the branch
+nearest to the Aspen, and his constant grumbles
+made them quiver with sorrow and pain at such
+incessant complainings. As to his own relatives,
+they would not listen, but frisked about merrily
+enough when the zephyrs came and played with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>'Alas!' said he one day to a little Aspen leaf
+that grew on a branch close by, and who had
+patiently borne with his ungrateful complaints;
+'how sad is our lot! Here we are always attached
+to the same place, in a state of cruel bondage;
+everything around us moves: the birds, happy in
+their liberty, fly here and there, singing ever their
+songs of joy; even the beasts of the forests are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+free&mdash;whilst we&mdash;ah me!&mdash;we never lose our
+galling chains but in dying!'</p>
+
+<p>'Why do you murmur thus?' asked the Aspen
+leaf in a sweet, tremulous voice; 'why are you
+not contented?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, it is all very well for you to preach contentment,'
+it pertly replied, turning up its point
+with contempt. 'I am a leaf of intellect. I hate
+this aimless, monotonous life; it does very well
+for such silly, trembling things as you and yours,&mdash;not
+for me!'</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the little Aspen leaf felt its pride
+wounded by the contemptuous speech of its
+neighbour, and was strongly disposed to answer
+in the same strain; but fortunately, a fairy who
+chanced to be passing at the time laid her silver
+wand lightly on its lips, so with a smile she merely
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I know I am timid, and cling to my
+parent tree for security and protection. What
+would you do if you were free? We are so happy
+here, I would not leave my home; the soft breezes
+are ever among us with cheerful stories of the
+countries they have visited to amuse us; and as to
+the birds, why, all the day long they are singing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+their sweetest melodies to gladden our hearts and
+cheer us.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have heard their songs until I am quite tired
+of their sameness,' was the ungrateful response;
+'besides, in a few months the cold winds will be
+here, and then we shall fall to the ground and be
+trodden under foot&mdash;that will be the end of us.
+So I am determined to see something of the world
+before that time comes. I shall go off with the
+first north wind that visits us&mdash;so I tell you.
+You will not reason me out of my plan.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, stay, stay with us!' cried the trembling
+listener; 'you cannot surely know the sorrow you
+would cause, nor the troubles you would have to
+endure. It is true we leave our kind branches
+but to die, but we are not carelessly trodden on;
+the rustling of we poor faded leaves beneath man's
+feet recall to his mind pure and holy thoughts of
+the unknown future, filling his heart with unuttered
+prayers to the Great Power who changeth not.
+Then, if we poor leaves can teach a lesson, we have
+not lived in vain. Do not murmur at your humble
+fate, dear friend, but stay with us, contented with
+your simple destiny and the goodness of God.'</p>
+
+<p>The Aspen leaf ceased speaking, overcome by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+its emotion, whilst the little grumbler, silenced, but
+not convinced, turned sulkily away. It did not
+relish the kind advice of its true friend, nor did
+it at all intend to follow it, but still it settled
+down on its tiny twig so very quietly, that all its
+relatives firmly believed it had given up its foolish
+scheme of imaginary happy freedom; but they
+were mistaken, for a few days after a north wind
+came quite unexpectedly upon them. It bent
+the Aspen tree almost to breaking, still the loving
+little leaves clung trembling to their parent,
+feeling that their very safety rested on their
+keeping close to it. Then, finding its strength
+was in vain, away the north wind rushed to the
+sturdy old Oak, swaying its branches wildly
+about, and even making them crack in its fierce
+rage.</p>
+
+<p>But the Oak reared its proud head defiantly,
+and its leaves hung tightly on&mdash;all save one.
+Alas! with a mocking laugh at his friends' and
+his brothers' fears, he threw himself into the arms
+of the cruel north wind, who bore him swiftly
+away, and ere the night came the foolish leaf lay
+faded and dead.</p>
+
+<p>As he was whirled away, a sad, sad moan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+sighed through the branches of the old Oak.
+'Twas a cry of anguish for its wilful child.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>The bright summer was gone.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the leaves were falling. With a
+gentle rustle they fell from their parent trees, and
+lay in their faded beauty upon the earth.</p>
+
+<p>The little Aspen leaf lingered, but one day a
+soft, sweet zephyr came and gently released her,
+and she fluttered slowly down to the calm bosom
+of the little brook, who had, alas! seen many
+flowers bloom and die.</p>
+
+<p>Tenderly the stream bore it away to a grassy
+nook on its banks, and there it placed the tiny
+leaf, alone in its quiet rest.</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i098.png" width="74" height="136" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i022099.png" width="590" height="167" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_EIGHTH" id="PARABLE_EIGHTH"></a>PARABLE EIGHTH.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE AMBITIOUS WILD-FLOWER&mdash;AMBITION.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+'Who'll buy my roses? they're lovely and fair,<br />
+They're Nature's own bloom, and are fed on fresh air.'<br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_drops.png" width="125" height="190" alt="S" style="margin-top: -1em;" /></span><span class="upper">o</span> sang a little girl, as she walked along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+a shady lane, carrying a basket of
+those glorious flowers which she was
+taking to a friend as a birthday gift; and
+so on she went, singing her song of Roses,
+sweet Roses, little thinking that others were
+listening to her melody (besides the birds), or
+that her simple words would raise angry feelings
+in the very flowers themselves.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes!' exclaimed a small Wild-flower&mdash;its
+name I will not tell; 'oh yes!' she repeated, waiting
+until the singer was out of hearing; 'always
+Roses, or Violets, or Lilies&mdash;no one ever composes
+songs about&mdash;<i>us</i>&mdash;we are only common flowers.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Don't say so,' interposed Pimpernel, 'because
+that is not true. There is a poem on a Daisy that
+will ever be remembered, and I have heard some
+children sing a pretty one about Buttercups and
+Daisies, besides.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, of course you uphold these song-makers,
+because your name has appeared in print,' she
+interrupted, with a toss of her bonnie petals; 'but
+no one has ever noticed me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense!' said Ragged Robin, who, having
+been of a wandering disposition, had seen and
+heard a great deal in his time; 'why, there is one
+poet who says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br />
+And waste its fragrance on the desert air."<br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Therefore, if you are not mentioned by name, you
+certainly must be included among these unknowns
+who are born to blush unseen.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want to be included among these
+"unknowns" then,' exclaimed the Flower angrily.
+'I am sure I am'&mdash;she hesitated a moment&mdash;'quite
+as lovely as a Rose, or any other garden
+beauty;' but she could not help hanging her head
+for very shame whilst uttering this piece of
+self-conceit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Oh! oh! oh!' were the exclamations to be
+heard on all sides.</p>
+
+<p>'So I am,' she persisted, going on now in sheer
+desperation, having proceeded too far to retract.
+'My petals are delicately fair, with just a faint
+rosy blush, my pistils and stamens of a tender
+yellow, and my form, if fragile, is very graceful&mdash;so
+there!'</p>
+
+<p>You may imagine the laughter that ensued as
+she ended with that emphatic 'so there!' laughter
+which could not be suppressed, although she plainly
+showed her anger at their behaviour; they could
+not help it, so flower-bells shook and leaves fluttered
+with mirth, even Quaker grass quivered
+with merriment.</p>
+
+<p>'I would advise you to be more contented,' said
+a Honeysuckle, as she looked down upon the
+ambitious little Flower from her own elevated
+position; 'let me tell you it is not always those
+who are highest up in the world are the happiest;
+they feel the cold winds quite as keenly, perhaps
+more so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, but I want to live in a conservatory or
+a greenhouse. I feel I am fitted for that
+position,' grumbled the other; 'in such a place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+I should be more seen, and consequently more
+admired and appreciated.'</p>
+
+<p>'What vanity!' sneered wild Vetch, who was
+somewhat ambitious also, seeing he tried to climb
+up as high as he could.</p>
+
+<p>An angry retort was on the lips of the one
+addressed, but Honeysuckle interposed, by saying
+kindly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Well, well, we shall see,&mdash;perhaps your position
+may be altered one day, and then you will be
+able to show us how you bear prosperity. Many
+flowers I have known transplanted to conservatories,
+thinking they would prove to be exotics,
+but I have heard that they generally withered
+in the heated atmosphere to which they were
+removed, and did not come to perfection when
+taken from their native soil.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure I should enjoy the change,' was the
+answer vouchsafed to this friendly warning. 'I
+know I am not in my proper sphere; such beauty
+as mine was never surely intended by Nature for
+a hedgerow.'</p>
+
+<p>'We shall see!' cried several Blossoms, who
+felt indignant at her contemptuous way of
+speaking. 'Your parents were no doubt'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Exotics, I am convinced,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Then how came you here among such humble
+company?' asked merry Ragged Robin, who was
+fond of teasing.</p>
+
+<p>She deigned no reply, but looked him scornfully
+up and down, to his intense amusement.</p>
+
+<p>'Let her alone!' cried a sturdy Bramble; 'she
+will buy her experience with sighs and tears, I
+fear.'</p>
+
+<p>So, acting upon Bramble's advice, they did leave
+her alone to muse over her ambitious hopes and
+desires, whilst they, contented and happy with their
+lowly fate, opened their buds to the bright sunshine,
+which beams alike upon the high or humble.</p>
+
+<p>And very pretty looked that hedgerow on this
+same morning. The flowers were so lovely and
+fresh, for their gentle Mother Nature had washed
+their bonnie faces fresh with dew, and so they
+held their petals up to catch the sun's brightest
+rays, which came in golden gleams through the
+thickly-leaved hedges above them. What life
+could possibly be happier? There were the birds
+flying about, cheering them with merry twitterings,
+as they sped from tree to tree, or perched
+in the boughs overhead, warbling ever their songs of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+gladness. Then the bees would come, and ask
+them, in drowsy, murmuring voices, for just a sip
+of nectar from their cups, a boon which was never
+refused, and in return the busy little workers
+would leave them some pollen to colour their
+petals, and render them (if it were possible) more
+lovely than before. The butterflies, too, would
+alight on their leaves, and display their brilliant
+hues for their admiration, or the gay dragon-flies
+would fly about them in that wandering fashion
+peculiar to those gorgeous insects, darting hither
+and thither like flashes of rainbow light. At night
+the moonlight would kiss their weary eyes to
+sleep, whilst the soft night-breezes soothed them
+to rest with murmuring lullabies.</p>
+
+<p>It is true there were storms sometimes, and the
+cold rain would fall upon them; but still they
+were sheltered from all fierce tempests, and would
+rise up refreshed after the dark clouds had passed
+away, for they knew</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">'Behind the clouds the sun's still shining.</span><br />
+<span style="letter-spacing: 1.3em; padding-left: 1.3em;"><b>· · · · ·</b></span><br />
+<span class="i0">Into each life some rain must fall,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Some days must be dark and dreary;'</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and as to the summer showers, why, they tossed
+their heads, and laughed merrily at them, shaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+the light rain-drops from their petals in playful
+fun.</p>
+
+<p>But on this morning, when the tiny Wild-flower
+was making her life miserable by useless
+repinings at her humble lot, and sighing for&mdash;she
+knew not what!&mdash;well, on this same morning
+there was not a cloud to dim the sky, so brightly
+blue was it, and the soft west wind crept among
+the leaves and flowers, whispering to them the
+glad tidings of 'Summer is come!'</p>
+
+<p>I do not know how long it was after the little
+girl had passed, that a gentleman came sauntering
+slowly up the lane; and as he went, he would stop
+every now and then to examine the hedgerow
+flowers and shrubs. All at once he espied our
+friend, almost hidden though she was by the
+leaves and long grass around.</p>
+
+<p>'What a lovely little flower!' he exclaimed, as
+he stooped down to examine more closely his
+newly-found treasure; 'how delicate in colour,
+how sweet in perfume! Surely this was never
+intended to remain hidden in a hedge?'</p>
+
+<p>Oh, if you could but have seen how she tried
+to raise her pretty head, which Nature had bowed
+in simple loveliness, and endeavoured to look big,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+little thinking that her greatest charm lay in this
+sweet simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>'I must certainly transplant it to my greenhouse,'
+he went on saying. 'With care and skill,
+who knows into what it may not develop!&mdash;an
+entirely new plant, I doubt not. I will at once
+take it home.'</p>
+
+<p>And away he went to procure the necessary
+tools for removing her from her lowly home to
+one more suited to her wishes.</p>
+
+<p>'Did I not tell you so!' was her delighted
+exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I never!' ejaculated Pimpernel, whose
+pretty eyes were now opened wide in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>'Better to be born lucky than rich,' muttered
+Ragged Robin.</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I not be grand in a conservatory?' cried
+the ambitious Flower.</p>
+
+<p>'I would rather</p>
+
+<div class="block">
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Adorn the rustic stibble-field,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Unseen, alane,"'</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>murmured meek Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, you have no ambition!' sneered the other;
+'besides, "the rustic stibble-field" is your proper
+sphere&mdash;it is not mine!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Pride, pride!' rebuked Honeysuckle, gazing
+sorrowfully down upon the arrogant little speaker.
+'Take care that you sigh not yet for your old
+home and humble friends.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed I shall not!' she retorted insolently.</p>
+
+<p>'Wait, wait!' continued sturdy Bramble; ''tis
+the time of flowers now&mdash;wait till the fruit-time
+comes.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know what you mean,' she retorted
+angrily; 'nor do I'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'That there is a time for all things,' explained
+Shepherd's Clock, interrupting her.</p>
+
+<p>'I trust your high hopes will be realized,' said
+Speedwell kindly.</p>
+
+<p>How much longer this wrangling would have
+continued it is impossible to say, for at that
+moment the gentleman returned with a trowel,
+spade, and basket, and proceeded to remove her
+from her native soil. In justice to her, it must
+be confessed that, when the moment came to part
+for ever from all her old friends, and the surroundings
+to which, in spite of her incessant murmurs,
+she felt attached, she clung desperately with
+her slender, fibrous roots to the familiar spot
+where from a seedling she had lived and grown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>yes,
+clung desperately! But with the utmost
+care every tender fibre was released, and she was
+placed in the basket and carried away. Was she
+glad now? No, far from it&mdash;wishing again and
+again that she had been left alone.</p>
+
+<p>However, it was too late. She had always complained
+of not being in her proper position, and
+now the glorious change was come; she was being
+taken to where her hopes had aspired,&mdash;a conservatory
+or a greenhouse, it mattered not which.</p>
+
+<p>After a while, with the usual indifference of
+such natures, her regrets subsided, giving place to
+thoughts respecting the place in which she was
+destined to live.</p>
+
+<p>'Of course I shall be welcomed by all the
+nobler flowers with delight and astonishment,' she
+mused; 'delight because of my agreeable manners,
+and astonishment at my beauty! How I wish my
+old hedgerow friends could but be present to
+witness my reception!'</p>
+
+<p>But this reception, upon which she built such
+bright fancies, was delayed for some few days, for,
+on arriving at her destination, she was carried into
+a dingy shed, not into the splendid glass palace
+her visions had conjured up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Is this the place to which I am destined?' she
+muttered complainingly. 'Oh dear! no one will
+see me here. I wish I had remained in the lane,
+for there was a chance of my being admired by
+some passer-by. What is the use of my ambitious
+hopes, if this is to be the end of them?'</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately there was no flower or even a
+plant near to be wearied with her repinings, so on
+she grumbled, until at last her misery reached its
+climax, when she was taken and pressed tightly
+into a horrible flower-pot, then carefully watered,
+and afterwards put into a dark corner to take root.
+Had she been capable of shedding tears, no water
+would have been required, such as was given to
+revive her; for the sorrow she felt was almost
+too great to be borne. Here was a life to lead
+after all her high aspirations, and her slender roots,
+too, were so cramped and squeezed it was something
+dreadful! Oh for the once despised hedgerow,
+with the soft, cool earth, in which she could
+stretch her delicate fibres!</p>
+
+<p>But wait, impatient little flower! other days
+are coming.</p>
+
+<p>One morning&mdash;at least so it proved to be,
+though at the time she did not know it, as in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+dark dwelling she saw neither sunrise nor sunset&mdash;well,
+this morning of which we speak, to her
+intense delight, the gentleman came and carried
+her out into the open air, and surveyed her
+critically.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' she heard him say, and how her heart
+bounded with pride, 'it is indeed a lovely flower,
+and may well take its place among those in the
+conservatory, for it is really exquisite.'</p>
+
+<p>Here was a triumph! this was the hour to
+which she had so long looked forward.</p>
+
+<p>'At last, at last!' she murmured. 'Oh, if my
+old acquaintances could but see me now, what
+would they say? I wish some of them were here.'</p>
+
+<p>Not satisfied even yet! You see there is
+always an alloy in our greatest earthly pleasures
+or triumphs&mdash;always a something wanting. Yet
+so completely bewildered was she by this excess
+of gratified pride, that she knew not whither she
+was borne, until, when the delirium, for such it
+was, had passed, she found herself in a place
+which her wildest imaginings never could have
+supposed possible&mdash;a wondrous glass palace, filled
+with the most gorgeous flowers of all tints and
+forms, some deliciously perfumed, making the air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+fragrant; whilst in the centre of this palace a
+fountain rose and fell with soothing murmurs,
+scattering its silvery spray upon exquisite blossoms
+that floated in the marble basin. It was almost
+too lovely, and our little wayside friend sighed
+with a sense of overpowering astonishment at the
+wondrous beauties around, beauties that dazzled
+her unaccustomed eyes. Her place, however, was
+upon one of the lower shelves, and above her head
+waved the feathery leaves of tropical plants, which
+throve wonderfully well in the heated atmosphere
+of this (to her) paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Then she was left alone with her new associates&mdash;alone!
+how much that word conveys!</p>
+
+<p>After some time the other flowers became aware
+of a stranger having come among them, and a
+flutter (as much as such well-bred creatures deigned
+to evince) stirred their leaves and petals.</p>
+
+<p>'What is she like?' asked a Maidenhair Fern,
+who from her position could get not even a glimpse
+of the new arrival.</p>
+
+<p>'Is she elegant and refined?' inquired a
+Camellia languidly.</p>
+
+<p>'Is she fair or dark?' questioned Tea-Rose, with
+a faint breath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'It matters not to me what she is,' murmured
+Ice-Plant coldly.</p>
+
+<p>'Where does she come from?' whispered Myrtle
+to her neighbour Cape Jasmine.</p>
+
+<p>'From a hedgerow,' was the reply, but uttered
+so that all around her heard the answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Only a Wild-flower!' was the general exclamation.
+'What presumption to come amongst us!'</p>
+
+<p>Then a chilling silence fell upon them all,
+except when they spoke to each other; but, after
+that unlucky explanation of her origin, it was as
+though they ignored her very existence&mdash;she was
+with them, still not of them.</p>
+
+<p>And, strange to say, our little friend, who was
+so ready with words among her compeers, was
+completely silenced by these disdainful beauties,
+and, instead of replying, and holding, or rather
+maintaining, her position there, she shrank, as it
+were, abashed and ashamed of her lowly origin.</p>
+
+<p>Was this the triumphant reception she had
+expected? Where was the homage her beauty was
+supposed to exact, and where the admiration of her
+manners and elegance generally? Ah me! she
+was only a little wayside blossom after all, pretty,
+it is true, and suited to the quiet hedgerow, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+without the merits or the talents to raise her to
+a higher place. Better far the humble friends,
+the lowly mossy bank where she had grown in
+peace and rest (save for her own unquiet ambition),
+than the grandeur and contempt which now were
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>So day after day passed on, and the florist who
+had brought her from the shady lane, hoping he
+had discovered a lovely and rare flower, saw with
+regret that his treasure was fading; the heated
+atmosphere of this splendid conservatory was too
+great for her to bear, and she was pining away
+for the fresh air and freedom of her old home;
+but, above all, she longed for the kindly if rough
+sympathy of her humble friends; the cold society
+of these exotics was gradually yet slowly killing
+her! In vain was the owner's care lavished upon
+her&mdash;it would not do; the delicate petals shrank
+up witheringly, the slender green leaves became
+shrivelled and dying, so in kindness he took her
+from the gorgeous palace, which she quitted gladly,
+without one sigh of regret, and carried her back to
+the shady lane, the once despised hedgerow, and
+carefully placed her in the very spot from which
+she had been taken.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was the home for her!</p>
+
+<p>Sadly she turned her dim eyes to the old friends
+around, who gazed upon the sorrow-stricken
+Flower pityingly and without reproach.</p>
+
+<p>'I have returned to die,' she murmured. 'Ambition
+which has pure and holy aspirations is
+laudable in all; but I mistook pride for that
+which is more noble, and I am punished. Do not
+blame me,' she pleaded piteously, 'but give me
+your pity, and when I am gone, think with tenderness
+upon the poor little Wild-flower who knew,
+when too late, that her place was best and
+happiest when among the humble blossoms by
+the peaceful hedgerow!'</p>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i114.png" width="200" height="123" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="image">
+<img src="images/i068115.png" width="590" height="150" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_NINTH" id="PARABLE_NINTH"></a>PARABLE NINTH.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="chapter2">THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BUTTERFLY&mdash;HUMILITY
+AND PRIDE.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="illodrop"><img src="images/i_dropo.png" width="129" height="190" alt="O" style="margin-top: -.5em;" /></span><span class="upper">ne</span> early spring day, a little shoot of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+Honeysuckle was putting forth its
+tendrils low down on the ground at
+the foot of a quickset hedge. As yet it
+was but a weakly sprig, not knowing its own
+strength, nor even dreaming that it would ever
+rise far above the earth. Yet still it was very
+contented, drawing happiness from its lowly
+surroundings, happy in living, and feeling the
+warm sunshine kissing its fragile leaves.</p>
+
+<p>Close by, there was a strange, dark, oblong mass,
+and the little Honeysuckle tried to imagine what
+it could possibly be, for it never moved, nor evinced
+emotion of any kind; and yet it was alive, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+people would take it up, examine it, then put it
+down again, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It is only a common Chrysalis!' But what
+<i>that</i> was the Honeysuckle knew not.</p>
+
+<p>At last, one day, when the sun was shining very
+brightly indeed, and the air was warm, and filled
+with the sweet breath of spring, to her great surprise
+she saw this peculiar object move, then by
+degrees the dark brown casing was cast aside, and
+she saw that it had wings!</p>
+
+<p>'Why, what are you?' she questioned, in utter
+amazement at this marvellous transformation.</p>
+
+<p>'Me!' he replied. 'Oh, I am a Butterfly, and
+you will see that very soon I shall become most
+lovely, such gloriously tinted feathers will deck
+my wings, all the world will be lost in admiration,
+I shall be so beautiful!'</p>
+
+<p>'And will you let me see you then?' the meek
+little flower asked humbly.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes! certainly you shall gaze upon me,' he
+answered, with a mighty air of condescension.</p>
+
+<p>'But will you not always remain here?' she
+questioned, pleased at the idea of having so charming
+a neighbour.</p>
+
+<p>'Dear me, no! I should think not, indeed. Why,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+I shall fly far away from this humble neighbourhood!'
+was his exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>'What! and leave me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly! what else could you expect?' he
+replied. 'My ambition could not endure such a
+humdrum existence as yours; with these gay-coloured
+wings of mine I shall soar to higher
+realms, and be courted and caressed where'er I
+go!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh that I had wings like yours, or that you
+clung to earth!' sighed the tender-hearted Honeysuckle,
+who, from having been so long in close
+companionship with the dark, unsociable Chrysalis
+had actually grown to like him.</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense! what a ridiculous wish!' exclaimed
+the gaudy insect, who did not share his little
+friend's feeling of regard. 'Why, I should die
+if I were rooted to one place! I require a large
+sphere in which to move about; while as to you&mdash;I
+doubt if ever you will rise higher in the
+world than you are now.'</p>
+
+<p>Not a kind remark to make, certainly, and it
+sadly grieved the humble flower to hear the Butterfly
+thus speak.</p>
+
+<p>'And yet,' she sorrowfully mused, 'perhaps he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+is right; I know I am but a little green plant, very
+small, and very lowly, whilst he is so noble and
+beautiful with his gorgeous wings. Still, it is
+heart-rending to think I shall never rise above the
+sordid earth, always remain a mere groundling!
+But never mind,' she added more cheerfully;
+'even groundlings can do good sometimes, so I'll
+take courage, and hope for the best.'</p>
+
+<p>Not many days after this, the Butterfly called
+out joyfully to his little admirer,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Good-bye! good-bye! See! I have acquired
+my full beauty, so now I am off to entrance the
+world with my perfect loveliness! I <i>think</i> I
+am an Emperor, though I am not quite sure; but
+there! people will soon appreciate me, and, of
+course, will acknowledge my claims to admiration.'</p>
+
+<p>'And are you really going?' she asked sadly.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, of course! I am perfect now, and could
+not possibly stay <i>here</i> any longer;' looking round
+contemptuously upon his humble surroundings.
+'But I'll come and see you again, perhaps; <i>you</i>
+are sure to be found in the same place!'</p>
+
+<p>And away he flew with a mocking laugh; his
+gay wings fluttered merrily in the sunshine as he
+poised above the gorgeous garden flowers a while,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+then he sped away into distance, and was lost to
+sight, whilst the little Honeysuckle felt very
+lonely as she watched him disappear.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh dear me!' she sighed; 'I feel rather sad
+now he has gone. It certainly must be very nice
+to rise a little in the world, not to be'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Take hold of my hand, my dear,' said a kind
+Bramble, who happened to hear the flower lament
+her lowly fate. 'I may perhaps be able to give
+you a lift up.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, thank you very much,' was the response;
+'but I fear your kindness would be thrown away,
+for I do not think I shall ever be more than I am
+at present.'</p>
+
+<p>'One can never know, until he has tried, what
+may be done,' was the encouraging rejoinder.
+'Look at me, for example! I am only what is
+called a Bramble, very much despised by some
+folks, no doubt; but then, who despises the fruit
+I bear? Why, every one likes the hardy blackberry,
+and I believe "by your fruit ye are
+known."'</p>
+
+<p>'But I shall never yield fruit,' the Honeysuckle
+exclaimed; 'and as to flowers'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'You are as yet only a green sprig of something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+&mdash;what I know not,' interrupted the Bramble
+sharply. 'But courage, child; take fast hold of
+me. I am rough but trusty; so take my hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'I fear to climb!' cried the other timidly.</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense, child! nothing is done without an
+effort. Only, when once you have secured a
+chance, hold it fast,' was the caution given.</p>
+
+<p>So she ventured to put forth a tender green
+tendril and clasp her kind friend's helping hand,
+which, if rough and thorny, was certainly honest
+and true.</p>
+
+<p>It is very seldom in this world that the humble
+and shrinking find friends ready and willing to
+raise them from the ground; for there is such a
+rush and scramble to reach the temples of 'Fame'
+and of 'Mammon,' that each one elbows the other
+in the crowd. Some of the weaker ones get
+sadly pushed to the wall, others are trampled
+under foot, and it is only the very boldest and
+most daring of the throng who ever reach the
+desired goal.</p>
+
+<p>But amongst the flowers it is not so; for how
+many of the weak ones cling for support to others,
+and, through their tender care, gain strength and
+beauty. And this was the case with the Honey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>suckle;
+she felt so secure resting on that strong,
+protecting arm, that by degrees she began to gain
+courage, and to feel her own power. The Bramble,
+too, perceiving she was something more than a
+mere 'little green sprig of something,' kindly
+encouraged her to persevere in her upward course.
+So she clambered up higher and higher; the
+delicate green tendrils became firmer and stronger,
+and at length, after much painful toiling and
+many a disappointment, she reached the highest
+summit of her hopes&mdash;the top of a quickset
+hedge!</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, how can I thank you all!' she joyfully
+cried, when from her lofty position she gazed
+around on beautiful scenes undreamt of ere this,
+and then looked back upon the toilsome path she
+had travelled, and beheld the many kind friends
+who had helped her on her way, each one of
+whom was now rejoicing in her success; 'and you,
+dear Bramble, my first generous guide'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'We are all very pleased to see that at last you
+have succeeded in your efforts, my dear,' interrupted
+that sturdy friend; 'and, what is more,
+we do not fear you will prove ungrateful, you are
+sure to remember us.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Indeed, indeed I ever shall!' cried the happy
+little flower. 'Can I ever forget those who loved
+me when I was poor and lowly? that would be
+cruel and unkind.'</p>
+
+<p>And so it proved; for, as the summer grew
+warmer, and her lovely blossoms opened to the
+bright sunshine, she in her gratitude showered
+them over those dear ones who had helped her
+in the days of her poverty; and the fragrant
+blossoms thus spread over the hedge and the
+bramble enhanced their beauty, and rendered
+them still more lovely in the eyes of the
+passers-by.</p>
+
+<p>'Dear me!' exclaimed the Butterfly, as one
+very hot day he alighted to rest upon one of the
+Honeysuckle's leaves. 'Dear me!' he repeated,
+surveying her critically; 'why, really I did not
+know you again. How did you contrive to get
+so high up in the world?'</p>
+
+<p>'Kind hearts, loving hands, helped me,' was
+the simple answer given.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, indeed!' he curtly said. 'Well, I owe
+gratitude to no one. I suppose you will not get
+any higher?' he questioned, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>'No,' she replied, with her usual humility;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+'and even if I could, I would not wish it; for,
+living as I do amongst all who are dear to me, I
+have no higher ambition.'</p>
+
+<p>'You were always a faint-hearted thing,' exclaimed
+the insect, quite forgetting even to be
+commonly polite, so elated was he with pride.
+'Just compare the difference in our lives! I fly
+here, I fly there, now on this flower, now on that.
+Ah, mine is a glorious life! nothing but pleasure
+and excitement all the livelong day. Confess,
+now, would you not like to be me?'</p>
+
+<p>'No,' she answered, with the utmost sincerity;
+'I am so happy here, I would not change my lot
+even for a career so brilliant as yours.'</p>
+
+<p>'What a taste!' he exclaimed, with scornful
+pity; 'no wonder you remain a hedge-flower!
+Why, poets write about us, and there is actually
+a song called "I'd be a Butterfly." Only think
+of that!' he exultantly cried.</p>
+
+<p>'What! and have a pin stuck through one's
+head, and to be suffocated with camphor, merely
+for the sake of being placed in a glass-case for
+people to stare at!' ejaculated Spleenwort, with a
+dash of malice in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't talk of such things, you common flower!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+the insect angrily exclaimed. 'I'll not stay here
+any longer to listen to such vulgarity. I prefer
+more refined society!'</p>
+
+<p>And away he flew, evidently very much disturbed
+in his mind by what Spleenwort had
+remarked as occurring to butterflies in general,
+although he would not acknowledge that it was so,
+even to himself, but tried to banish the thought
+by indulging more freely in what he considered
+pleasure. You see&mdash;poor, giddy flutterer&mdash;he did
+not like to hear the plain truth spoken; flattery
+would have pleased him better, yet truth, though
+sometimes bitter, is a wholesome tonic when taken
+properly.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>The summer days sped fast, for Father Time's
+scythe is never idle, and he was gradually, though
+slowly, mowing down the flowers which had
+garlanded the sunny hours. The leaves once
+so green were changing now, assuming their
+glowing autumn tints, whilst some would fall
+fluttering to the ground with a gentle sigh of
+weariness, as the cold winds were rustling
+by. Then the stern northern gale came sweeping
+along, proclaiming to the forest trees that winter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+was on her way; and a shudder would pass
+through their sturdy branches when they heard
+the tidings, for they feared her chill, icy breath.</p>
+
+<p>The bees took refuge in their well-stored hives,
+the ants had barred their outer doors, and retired
+to their most secluded apartments; even the garden
+spider was sheltered in his home&mdash;only the once
+gay butterfly was homeless and friendless.</p>
+
+<p>'Shelter me, shelter me, dear Honeysuckle,'
+moaned the shivering insect, coming back to the
+old home in the day of his sorrow. 'I am so
+cold, so weary!'</p>
+
+<p>'Poor thing!' the tender flower exclaimed, with
+the utmost pity, forgetting now all former slights.
+'Creep under my leaves, perhaps they may shield
+you. But your beautiful wings, how came they
+so torn and colourless?'</p>
+
+<p>'The pitiless storm last night fell upon me and
+crushed me to the earth in its fury,' he answered,
+with difficulty, for he was so feeble. ''Tis true
+the gleams of sunshine to-day have revived me
+a little; but alas! I am dying! my brief day is
+over, and there is no one to give me a refuge save
+you!'</p>
+
+<p>'Where are your gay friends?' she asked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>'those
+with whom you sported throughout the
+livelong summer hours?'</p>
+
+<p>'Gone far from me,' he answered bitterly;
+'they were but friends of the fleeting sunshine,
+and I in the day of my power thought but of
+myself, and now&mdash;I am left alone to die!'</p>
+
+<p>The Honeysuckle was deeply moved; she remembered
+no more his haughty pride, she only
+saw that <i>now</i> he was ill and in sorrow; so she
+placed her clinging tendrils gently around him,
+trying thus to keep the poor Butterfly under the
+shelter of her protecting leaves.</p>
+
+<p>Night came stealing on, folding her sable
+curtains over the earth; and it was a wild night,
+for not a star shone in the skies, all was dark and
+dreary, for the Storm King was abroad in all his
+mighty strength. The fierce gales came with
+terrific power, tossing the lordly ships as they
+nobly braved its fury, but causing, oh, so many
+loving hearts to fervently pray 'for those at sea.'
+No wonder, then, that when the cold grey dawn
+awoke the early flowers, they saw the poor
+crushed Butterfly lying dead! close beside the
+little Honeysuckle, whose trustful, meek heart he
+had once so cruelly derided.</p>
+
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h4>PRINTED BY<br />
+MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED<br />
+EDINBURGH</h4>
+<div class="minispace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="image"><img src="images/ispine.jpg" width="600" height="66" alt="Book spine" title="" /></div>
+<div class="microspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<div class="nanospace">&nbsp;</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Parables from Flowers, by Gertrude P. Dyer
+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Parables from Flowers, by Gertrude P. Dyer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Parables from Flowers
+
+Author: Gertrude P. Dyer
+
+Release Date: January 6, 2009 [EBook #27718]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARABLES FROM FLOWERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Meredith Bach, Lindy Walsh and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.
+
+[Illustration: PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.
+
+_Frontispiece._]
+
+
+
+
+ PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.
+
+
+
+ BY
+ GERTRUDE P. DYER,
+ AUTHOR OF 'LITTLE POLLIE,' 'ARMOUR-CLAD,' ETC. ETC.
+
+
+
+ _Doth not thy heart throb with emotions of thankfulness to God for
+ making the earth so fair, so redolent of beauty in its garniture of
+ flowers, and for having scattered these silent teachers up and down the
+ world?_
+
+
+
+ EDINBURGH:
+ W. P. NIMMO, HAY, & MITCHELL.
+
+
+
+
+ TO
+ MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS,
+ MABEL, ELSIE, AND RUBY TARR.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+ PAGE
+
+ I. THE FORGET-ME-NOT--FIDELITY 7
+
+ II. THE SNOWDROP--FAITH 22
+
+ III. THE FOXGLOVES' STRATAGEM--GRATITUDE 30
+
+ IV. THE LITTLE MINER AND HIS FLOWER--TRUST IN GOD 46
+
+ V. THE LITTLE SEED--KINDNESS 68
+
+ VI. THE CROWN IMPERIAL--HOPE 83
+
+ VII. THE TWO LEAVES--DISCONTENT 89
+
+ VIII. THE AMBITIOUS WILD-FLOWER--AMBITION 99
+
+ IX. THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BUTTERFLY--HUMILITY AND PRIDE 115
+
+
+
+
+PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE FIRST.
+
+THE FORGET-ME-NOT--FIDELITY.
+
+
+In the days of the long-ago, my ancestors did not dwell as we do now--in
+brooks or by the banks of shallow streams, but grew in wild luxuriance
+beneath the shade of overhanging trees, and under the wayside hedgerows.
+
+We were always a quiet, unassuming race, and, indeed, I am fain to
+confess, were not held in more esteem by mortals than are our sweet
+cousins whom children call 'Bird's-eyes.' But some one made known to the
+world that pathetic 'Legend of the Rhine,' in which we are described,
+then people began to perceive that we were pretty, lovely indeed,--and
+to make a great fuss about us; but such is the way of the world!
+
+Yet, though that legend is tenderly beautiful and thrilling, it is
+almost too romantic to please the taste of simple flowers, therefore I
+will tell you the true story how we acquired our name. That shall be my
+parable--see what it will teach!
+
+We grew there, unheeded and unsought, on soft mossy banks, not the less
+lovely because unknown, and just above our dwelling-place a large oak
+spread abroad its leafy branches. It was a favourite tree of the birds,
+they felt so secure there, sheltered from prying eyes by its protecting
+leaves; besides, its branches were so firm and strong, they resisted
+bravely the fury of the storms that swept over them. What bird, then,
+would fear to build its nest there? And often have we listened to their
+sweet songs as they perched above us, and many times lifted our heads
+and gazed upon the happy inmates of those simple homes.
+
+But there was one family among them that interested us even more than
+others, though all were dear to us. It was a pair of wrens who had by
+some strange accident taken up their abode in our oak, instead of a
+yew-tree as they generally do; and not only my family, but the whole
+colony of birds, old inhabitants of the tree, many of them, felt great
+interest in the new-comers, assisting them with advice, as they were but
+young.
+
+Then, when building time came, how kind they all were! indeed, though it
+was a busy season with every bird, each anxious to finish its work, yet
+I heard an old Rook one day ask little Jenny Wren 'if he should help
+her,' as he met her trying to drag a large wisp of straw with all her
+tiny strength.
+
+'No, thank you,' she gently replied; 'I must try to do it. We must all
+learn to bear our own burdens.'
+
+But many times, however, I have seen the larger and stronger birds bring
+materials for making the nest close to the spot they had chosen, to save
+the little strangers weary journeys; and at last, after much patient
+labour, the home was finished, to the intense delight of the two
+builders, for both took their share in the work; but the joy was
+greater, when, after some time, three little birds made their appearance
+in the compact and cosy nest.
+
+The event caused quite a sensation among the other dwellers in our old
+tree. Jays were constantly inquiring how the nestlings were getting on,
+an inquisitive Magpie peeped into the nest, trying to get a glimpse of
+the pretty ones, and received a sharp peck from the angry father as a
+reproof for the intrusion; as to the motherly Rooks, who were supposed
+to care for nothing save their own family concerns, they kindly advised
+the young parents how to rear the brood, saying, 'Care, care,' was all
+that was necessary; nay, it is even recorded, as an undoubted fact, that
+an old Owl, who had lived for ages in a hole in the tree, actually
+opened her eyes quite wide when the news was first told to her, although
+it was broad daylight! You may imagine, then, how happy they were,
+surrounded thus by kindness and love; and yet--I suppose it is but right
+there are ever shadows as well as sunshine, and, sad though it seems,
+every life must have bitters mingled with the sweets; still they were so
+joyous in that tiny nest! Why, ah, why was their happiness to be
+clouded? Alas, it grieves me even now to tell, though many long years
+have since then passed away!
+
+One day the father-bird went from the nest, and never returned!
+
+Long and patiently waited his little mate, hoping each moment to hear
+his welcome note, as swiftly he winged his way back to her. But the day
+wore on, the evening sun grew golden, then faded in the purple west--but
+still he came not! The other dwellers in the oak returned to their
+homes, yet they brought no tidings of the wanderer. After a while their
+happy voices were hushed in sleep, the Blackbird ceased to warble his
+evening hymn, and all were buried in slumber, and at rest!
+
+All? Ah, no! the lonely mourner was waking still, gazing up with sad,
+sad eyes at the starry heavens above, asking the night-winds as they
+moaned around:
+
+'Will he not return to me?'
+
+Days passed, slowly dragging their length wearily on for the lonely bird
+in that desolate nest. Yet, though her heart was breaking, she tended
+her tiny nestlings, neglecting none of her daily duties; for his dear
+sake she loved them yet the more, hoping as each day came it would bring
+him back, and striving to imagine his delight when he returned, and
+found his young ones almost fledged. But still the days dawned, the
+weary hours went by, the sickness of hope deferred would fall upon her
+loving heart, crushing it almost to breaking; yet bravely she struggled
+with her woe. It was when the holy stars shone down, gazing pityingly
+at her meekly raised eyes, and she was alone in stillness with her great
+sorrow, that then would she murmur with a bitter cry,--
+
+'When will he come home to me again?'
+
+Yet still he came not!
+
+Then her brave heart gave way. In vain the other birds tried to comfort
+her; she could not be comforted, for he she so dearly loved 'was not.'
+
+'Do not grieve, do not grieve--cheer thee, che-eer thee,' sang the
+Robin, as he perched beside her.
+
+Or the Thrush tried to advise, saying, 'Don't fret, don't fret; 'tis a
+pity, 'tis a pity!'
+
+But one bright sunny day a Swallow came flying along. He had just
+returned from far distant lands, and all the other birds gathered
+chittering around him, eager to hear the news he had brought. He told
+them of much he had seen whilst on the wing; also that he was the
+pioneer, his brothers would soon rejoin him, for Summer was coming; he
+had heard her heralds in the fields and groves, had marked her
+flower-decked path in forest and in lane. But what was summer to the
+heart-broken Wren? There would be no sunshine for her, since _he_ was
+not there--he who was her all.
+
+'Oh, Swallow,' she timidly asked, 'have you seen my own love?'
+
+Then the eyes of the Swallow became tear-dimmed, as sadly he replied,--
+
+'Little Jenny Wren, I have!'
+
+'Where--oh, where?' she cried in thrilling accents.
+
+He hesitated a few moments, though to her impatience it seemed hours; he
+wished to spare her further agony if he could--but the truth must be
+told.
+
+'Tell me, tell me,' she pleaded, impatient at the delay.
+
+'In a prison,' was the reply.
+
+'In a prison!' she repeated, horror-struck at the disclosure; then she
+added, 'I will go to him, and share his captivity.'
+
+'Nay, nay,' remonstrated a motherly Sparrow; 'your little
+ones--think--think--see--see!'
+
+Sadly she drooped her head upon her breast; her heart was divided
+between a mother's duty and a wife's love.
+
+'I will take care of the nestlings,' said a young Linnet; 'they shall
+feed with my little ones, I will shelter them under my wings.'
+
+Gratefully the poor wee bird looked at her generous friend; words were
+not needed to express her thanks.
+
+'Take me to him,' she piteously asked, turning to the Swallow.
+
+'I shall pass that way to-morrow,' he said, 'for I must go and meet my
+comrades, to guide them here. You can go with me; I will take you to
+where he is imprisoned.'
+
+The next morning, before the sun had risen, away flew the Swallow, and
+with him the little Wren. She heeded not that the valleys were still
+shrouded in mist, or that the cold grey dawn yet lingered in the skies;
+was not her sunshine coming? should she not soon see him who was her
+brightness? The day wore on, and onward still by the Swallow's side,
+she, with untiring pinions, winged her way; she suffered not from
+noontide heat, she felt not even the pangs of hunger or thirst, for her
+heart was filled with hope. But towards evening her pitying guide led
+her over a hot, murky town; the very sky above it was hidden by the
+thick atmosphere of smoke which seemed completely to envelope it; the
+two birds could scarcely breathe, the air was so dense with poisonous
+gases.
+
+'It cannot be here?' she gasped, as suddenly the Swallow paused in his
+rapid flight.
+
+'See, see!' was his exclamation.
+
+Then, raising her heavy eyes, she saw, suspended from a high window, a
+small wire cage, and in it--her long-lost mate!
+
+He was resting on a low perch, with his poor aching head beneath his
+wing; his pretty brown feathers were no longer smoothly plumed, but hung
+ragged and tattered around his wasted form, so different to the bright,
+bonnie bird of the long-ago! But she heeded not the change; to her he
+was as beautiful, ay, and more dear than ever, so, flying up, she clung
+with eager feet to the cruel bars which kept her from him, and, pressing
+her beak as close as possible to the cage, she murmured,--
+
+'I am here, love!'
+
+At the sound of that sweet voice, so well remembered by the captive, he
+raised his drooped head, and, gazing at her with all the old loving
+tenderness, whispered feebly,--
+
+'Is it you, Jenny? Ah, I knew you would come!'
+
+And every evening found her there. Patiently would she stay near the
+prisoner throughout the dark watches of the night, cheering her loved
+one because she was near; but when the grey dawn came stealing over the
+skies, away she would fly back to the nest in the oak, and during the
+day would carefully tend her little ones, fulfilling thus her double
+duty as wife and mother. Then when the evening star appeared, telling
+her of the gloaming, she would hush her nestlings with a soothing
+lullaby, and, when they were sleeping, would swiftly fly to her
+imprisoned mate, bearing in her beak a sprig of moss, or a leaf from the
+well-remembered spot where they had been so happy in the spring-time of
+their life; and when she reached the prison, if her loved one was
+grieving, pining for the liberty he had lost, the home ties thus rudely
+broken, her sweet voice murmuring, 'I am here, love,' seemed to bring
+comfort to that poor failing heart; and as she tenderly pressed her
+cool, fresh beak to his, so parched and dry, he would reply, striving to
+be gay for her dear sake,--
+
+'Ah, Jenny, you have brought on your wings some sunlight from our old
+home, my darling.'
+
+One evening, when as usual she flew to the prison, she found him lying
+at the bottom of the cage, speechless and motionless. Frantically she
+tore at the cruel bars, beating them with her wings in an agony of
+despair.
+
+'My own love, my own love!' she cried aloud in her anguish; 'speak to me
+once again!'
+
+Her beloved voice seemed to possess the power to recall him back to
+life, for he heard her, though the shadows of death were stealing over
+him.
+
+'Jenny, darling,' he feebly whispered, as she bent low to catch the
+faintest word, 'they have broken my heart. Ah, why did they keep me thus
+captive?'
+
+'Oh, do not die!' she moaned; 'think how lonely I should be in this wide
+world without you.'
+
+'If I were but free, we should be so happy again, love,' he said,
+gasping painfully for breath as he spoke.
+
+'I will release you,' she cried, and strove with all her strength to
+unfasten the prison door, but in vain--it resisted all her efforts.
+
+'What shall I do? what shall I do? He will die, and I cannot help him,'
+moaned forth the poor Wren in accents of despair.
+
+'My sweet one,' he murmured, 'do not grieve so bitterly. Death were
+better far than life if separated from you; but, before I close my eyes
+for ever upon this world which the good God who loveth us hath created
+so beautiful, bring me just one spray of those little blue flowers.'
+
+'I know them!' she eagerly cried; 'a cluster grew beneath our nest.'
+
+'Yes,' he continued; 'and when I used to return home I could see them
+afar off, and would think, "Jenny is there, and their blue eyes are
+looking upon her." Bring me one tiny spray, darling, and if I die when
+you are from me, we shall not seem so very far apart, for those sweet
+flowers will whisper to me of you.'
+
+She waited no longer, but flew rapidly away to bring the blossoms on
+which he wished to look once again; but she had not long gone when a
+young girl came to the cage, and saw the poor captive bird as Jenny had
+found him--still and motionless as though dying, and her heart was
+filled with tender pity, that its brief life should thus be so soon
+ended.
+
+'Poor birdie! I fear it is dying,' she said. 'I will unfasten the cage;
+perhaps the fresh air will revive him, and bring back his failing
+strength.'
+
+And with kindly hands she opened the prison door, thus giving him
+liberty.
+
+The cool, fresh air, stirring his drooping feathers, aroused him from
+his lethargy; at first he could not believe that the door was open, that
+he was free. It was almost too much happiness for the poor sick bird to
+bear; yet it was true--freedom was his, and his first thought was of
+Jenny.
+
+He would fly to meet her, as he knew she would soon return, bearing with
+her the blue flowers he loved, and then, when she saw _him_ coming
+towards her,--free, yes, free!--would not all past sorrow be forgotten
+in the ever-present joy? So, with a twitter of gratitude to the girl who
+had opened his prison door, he fluttered his wings, just to try their
+strength, poised a while in the air, then away he flew with unerring
+instinct towards his dear home in the old oak tree.
+
+But of Jenny?
+
+With a sad weight upon her poor little heart, crushing it with the iron
+grip of despair, she reached the spot where the flowers grew, plucked a
+few blossoms from the stem, then away again, without pausing to rest,
+bearing the prized flowerets in her beak. She felt not fatigue; though
+her weary pinions sometimes faltered, still she heeded it not, still
+struggling on, eager to reach where he lay dying. Her only thought was:
+
+'If he were to die, and I not with him.'
+
+But slower and slower grew her flight; strength at last was failing, for
+it had been too severely tried; her breath came quick and fast, in
+short, fitful gasps, and her heart beat heavily beneath her quivering
+breast.
+
+'Oh, but to see him once more!' she moaned, as she felt her weary wings
+failed to do her bidding. She tried to fly yet a little farther, in
+vain; her tired pinions fluttered for a while, then down she sank,
+slowly, slowly, on to the calm bosom of a rippling stream that was
+flowing on over its pebbly sands with soothing melody.
+
+'Jenny, Jenny, my own love, where are you? I have sought you so long, my
+darling,' she heard the well-known voice exclaiming.
+
+She raised her dying eyes, and saw her loved mate hovering above her in
+the summer air.
+
+'I am here, love,' she faintly murmured.
+
+Then with all the old love-light beaming from her soft, gentle eyes, she
+turned to gaze at her poor desolate mate, who was rending the air with
+his piteous cries, then closed them for ever, with a look of perfect
+peace, murmuring softly,--
+
+'Dearest, forget me not.'
+
+And the rippling stream bore her gently away echoing with a plaintive
+wail her dying words:
+
+'Dearest, forget me not.'
+
+The poor widowed bird caught the flowers as they were floating away on
+the breast of his lost love, and carried them to his now desolate home;
+but one little blossom, in tender pity for sweet Jenny Wren, detached
+itself from the others to linger still with the poor dead bird; and when
+the stream had carefully borne its precious burden to a shady nook,
+where she could rest, for ever freed from sorrow and pain, the flower
+was carried with her, and, taking root above the spot where she lay
+buried, put forth its blue blossoms in loving remembrance of that fond,
+faithful heart.
+
+And thus it is how we became dwellers close to tranquil streams, and why
+our name is still 'forget-me-not.'
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE SECOND.
+
+THE SNOWDROP--FAITH.
+
+
+My life has been so tranquil, that I fear it will not possess much
+interest; for, when first recollection dawned, I remember finding myself
+far down in the earth--a small bulb, not much to look at, I am thinking.
+But very happy were the days spent there with my companions. We in our
+ignorance deemed the world a dreary place, and wished we could for ever
+stay where it was so cosy and warm; but our Mother Earth was carefully
+instructing us, teaching us the same precious lessons she unfolds to her
+other children, if they will but read the ever-open book, by man called
+'Nature.'
+
+I know not how long it was that the Frost King kept the land bound
+captive in icy chains, but at last the signal for freedom came. The
+trees awoke from their winter sleep, and, casting off their sombre
+garments of sheathed leaves, came forth in vestments of tender green;
+the bees, too, sent out their pioneers, who hastened back to the hives
+with the glad tidings of the sunshine and of awakening flowers. The
+birds flew hither and thither on joyous wings, twittering their simple
+gratitude to Him who 'heareth the ravens cry;' for they indeed were
+thankful that the dark days were past, and that 'the time of the singing
+of birds had come.' As to the little brooks and streams, how rejoiced
+were they to be free once more! they bounded away over the sandy
+shallows or pebbly beds, laughing for very gladness, and kissing the
+green banks whose fresh verdure they laved, whilst murmuring to them
+their gladsome song:
+
+
+ 'I'm free! oh, joy! I am free once again!
+ I have burst with delight my icy chain,
+ And gaily I flow to the open sea,
+ Joyously singing, I'm free! oh, I'm free!
+
+ I kiss the green banks as I glide along,
+ I woo the birds with my peaceful song;
+ The sunbeams they dance to my joyous strain,
+ Whilst gaily I fling their rays back again.'
+
+
+And for us also came the appointed time, when we too had to leave the
+home in which we had been so tenderly nurtured; we were to go, ready
+prepared to do the work marked out for us.
+
+But I did not wish to go; I feared to face a world unknown to me, and
+fain would have lingered in the home so loved.
+
+'Why must I leave you?' I asked of our gentle parent. 'I cannot bear the
+separation.'
+
+'My child,' she replied, with something of reproach in her soft voice,
+'have you so soon forgotten the lesson I taught you, that He who created
+all things, createth nothing in vain? Go forth upon the earth, and speak
+in parables of His glorious works.'
+
+'What can I teach?--I, so small, and of no repute!' I asked, still
+doubting.
+
+'Some lesson of His goodness to the children of men,' was her reply.
+
+'But everything on earth appears to have its appointed mission; there
+seems no work for me,' I urged in excuse.
+
+'God will find something for even you to do,' she said; 'it may be only
+a message from Him.'
+
+'A message!' I repeated. 'What could I say to others? Already have all
+the flowers their symbols: the Violet is the Hope flower, the
+Heart's-ease speaks of Thought; what can we Snowdrops tell?'
+
+Our mother did not answer--she left us to find what lessons we best
+could teach.
+
+So day by day we grew, stronger and stronger, gradually becoming better
+fitted to perform the work allotted; until at last I appeared above the
+ground--a slender green leaf!
+
+Never shall I forget how cheerless looked the earth when first I came
+above it, so dull and black, save where a few snowflakes had been
+drifted by the wintry winds; all else was bleak and bare. There was not
+a gleam of sunshine athwart the leaden sky to cheer us, nor a bird to
+meet us with a friendly greeting, for even the robins kept so near the
+houses for warmth and shelter, they came not to the spot where we grew,
+alone and sad; and as to the trees, they as yet stood silent above us,
+only the Holly was still decked with gay scarlet berries, enlivening up
+the gloomy landscape with a little bright colour. But the Holly smiled
+not on us; armed at all points in his glossy coat of shining mail, he
+was so lofty and grand, and we were only--Snowdrops!
+
+But I grew on, cherished by our great Mother Nature, who careth for all
+her children, and loves them tenderly, be they humble Daisies or the
+queenly Rose; and at last I became a perfect flower, taking my pure
+white tints from the snow around me, and borrowing just a faint tinge of
+green from the young grass that was now bravely struggling to appear.
+
+By and by, a Blackbird, with golden beak and shining coat, found me out
+as he was seeking a convenient tree in which to make a nest, and, bowing
+politely, exclaimed,--
+
+'Welcome to you, fair Snowdrop! I am rejoiced to see you, for you bring
+us the assurance that spring is on the way, and we shall be glad, for
+the winter has been long and dreary.'
+
+Then he having communicated the glad tidings to the other birds, they
+also came to greet me, cheering my loneliness with their sweet songs.
+Yet still I pined to return to earth again; I cared not to look upward,
+but hung my head, murmuring sadly,--
+
+'Oh, Mother Earth, take home thy child! she is so weary of her life
+here.'
+
+Was I wrong? Perhaps so, but I owed my existence to that which mortals
+deem so cold and dark; I loved it with the affection of a loving child,
+and longed to rest again upon the dear bosom that had sheltered me when
+I was but a frail bulb.
+
+Besides, it seemed to me that I was doing no good. Why was I sent here,
+if only to bloom and then die? I had been told that nothing was created
+in vain; was I doing the work for which I had been sent upon the earth?
+
+Whilst thus repining over my useless life, a poet passed by
+chance--stay, was it chance? nay, there is no chance! He was one who as
+yet had met with but little success; I am told there are many such among
+earth's children. We know that it is said:
+
+
+ 'Many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+ And waste its sweetness on the desert air;'
+
+
+yet the sweetness is not _lost_, for it speaks with a perfumed voice to
+the creatures of the air; but among mortals, many fade away into utter
+oblivion, breathing only their sad, sweet heart-songs to the listening
+winds around.
+
+And this poet of whom I speak, he felt within himself the inspiration
+of genius, that innate love of the beautiful and true which comes from
+God alone; but the world looked coldly on him, and he was struggling
+with what seemed endless disappointments, battling with them bravely,
+yet almost sinking amidst the strife. His very heart was beginning to
+fail him, his noble courage to give way, when he saw me there,
+blossoming alone in that quiet nook.
+
+'Oh, God!' he cried, as, with clasped hands and eyes raised heavenward,
+he sank beside me on the sod,--'oh, God, forgive me that I should dare
+to doubt Thy loving care, when this fragile, fragile flower, sheltered
+by Thee, has braved the wintry storms, while the cold winds pass
+tenderly over its bowed head. A bruised reed Thou wilt not break; Thou
+carest for the lilies of the field,--why then should I fear when
+adversity assails me? Art Thou not still above, though heaven seems so
+far off, and oh, so cold and pitiless! I will have faith in Thy divine
+and fatherly love, and accept the lesson this sweet flower hath taught
+me.'
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Yes, faith--faith in God, was the parable I was sent to teach, and I
+also have learned to know that, though the skies may be dark and the
+winds--oh, so cold! yet if we only wait, and trust Him, the sunshine
+will come at last, and the breath of heaven never visit us too roughly.
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE THIRD.
+
+THE FOXGLOVES' STRATAGEM--GRATITUDE.
+
+
+We lived on the garden wall of an old-farmhouse, over which the vines
+grew in rare luxuriance, covering it with their climbing tendrils and
+leaves; and in the autumn the purple and white grapes peeped from
+beneath their leafy shelter, mocking the thirsty throats of the village
+lads who passed that way, and who looked longingly up at the ripe
+clusters.
+
+It was a very old place, I am told, and had been inhabited by the same
+family for many successive generations. Fathers had tilled the soil,
+then laid aside the plough for ever. Sons had sprung up to take their
+place, and they too, in their turn, were gathered in, when the bearded
+grain was ripe for the sickle of the great 'Reaper, whose name is
+Death,' leaving the old homestead to others of the same name and race,
+who loved the home in which they were born, and wherein those they most
+cherished had lived and died.
+
+The Swallows, too, loved it, returning year after year to their nests
+under the eaves, and from early dawn 'to dewy eve,' all through the warm
+summer days, flew hither and thither with swift, untiring wing, chasing
+each other, as it were, or teaching their young to fly. As to the
+Robins, they hopped in at the open door under the rustic porch, just as
+if they belonged to the place, and were sure of a welcome, which indeed
+they were! And that porch--what a cosy corner it was, with seats on
+either side, inviting weary feet to rest! the sunbeams were always
+playing bo-peep through the leaves which hung clustering around; the
+Honeysuckles and Clematis decking it, too, with their blossoms,
+scattering their delicious perfume the while. But I always thought the
+spot looked brightest when little Susie was there--she who was the very
+sunshine of the old home! And how they all loved her, from the
+white-headed grandfather down to the little ploughboy, who brought her
+all the poor motherless or sick creatures he found on the farm, were it
+but a half-fledged bird or a stray kitten, certain of her thanks, and a
+sweet smile; and as to her three big brothers, who had such influence
+over them as little Susie? for even when they were disputing as to whose
+turn it was to ride Brown Bess (the joint property of the children),
+Susie was always chosen umpire to decide the important question, and
+they abode by her decision.
+
+Why, it was Susie who saved us from being ruthlessly destroyed! for it
+happened that one day old Peter was at work in the garden, and, to make
+the place 'a bit more tidy,' as he said, was proceeding to cut us off
+from the wall.
+
+'They bain't o' much account,' he muttered, sharpening his hook; 'not
+loike them there Roses maister sets sich store by, and thinks so much
+on.'
+
+Certainly it seemed very sad that, because we were merely 'common
+flowers,' our lives were to be cut short long before the appointed time;
+we had endeavoured to bloom as brightly as our more refined sisters, and
+in sunshine or shower had tried our best to look gay, and, I think, had
+succeeded, for we do not shut our petals as if we were sulking when
+dark clouds come, but keep them always open. But the fiat had gone
+forth--old Peter was the stern arbitrator of our destinies! and, feeling
+that our fate was inevitable, we sighed a last long farewell to each
+other, just as we saw him raise his sharp hook to cut us down. At that
+moment, so 'big with fate' for us, who should come into the garden,
+singing for very gladness like the birds themselves, but little Susie;
+the sunlight was playing with her waving hair, her eyes sparkled as the
+dewdrops in the sun, and her tiny feet skipped lightly along as she came
+dancing up the pathway.
+
+That prolonged our lives! Old Peter dropped his hook to turn round and
+look at his young mistress.
+
+'What are you going to do, Peter?' she inquired, as she drew near, and
+saw him take up his tools to resume work.
+
+'Whoy, lop doun these 'ere things, Miss Zusie,' he replied, pointing at
+us contemptuously.
+
+'Oh, please don't destroy them! they are so pretty!' was her eager
+exclamation.
+
+'Purty, missie!' the old man repeated, with astonishment; 'whoy, them be
+wild loike.'
+
+'But I love them dearly,' she persisted; 'so please leave them there.'
+
+'But the maister?' pursued Peter, rubbing his rough head in his
+perplexity; 'he told me to clear roight up.'
+
+Peter, it must be observed, was 'the odd man' about the farm; there is
+always one.
+
+'Father will say you did quite right to let them live,' replied the
+little lady; 'he likes them as much as I do, for he says he remembers
+them always growing here, coming up year after year without troubling
+any one to look after them, and making the old wall a very
+flower-garden.'
+
+'Well, Miss Zusie, if so be ye sez so, I s'pose I must,' he acquiesced,
+though I think he was greatly disappointed that he could not have his
+own way about it; so there we were left, and we bloomed more than ever,
+striving to do our best in gratitude to the little maiden.
+
+Now, I have noticed, as a rule,--mind, every rule has exceptions,--that
+good deeds, like good seed, seldom fall to the ground and wither away.
+Both may lie fallow, for a while at least, but the flower comes up after
+a while, and 'with what measure ye mete, it is meted to you again.' You
+may not have remarked this, perhaps, but the fact holds good, proving
+most emphatically the sacred truth, 'Blessed are the merciful, for they
+shall obtain mercy.'
+
+Now, when Susie saved our lives, she never thought that simple flowers
+could ever repay her kindness, and for some time, it is true, we did
+nothing, only strove to make the garden wall look gay with our sturdy
+buds and blossoms.
+
+But one day, I remember, Susie sat on the lawn close by the wall on
+which we grew, very busy making a smart new dress for her doll, Miss
+Arabella, who sat propped up by a work-box at her back, with her arms
+straight out, and her toes turned in, but with a sweet smile upon her
+waxen face. They were evidently engaged in earnest conversation, for
+Susie kept speaking in her own voice for herself, and using a very
+shrill falsetto for Arabella, who, by the bye, appeared to reply only in
+monosyllables.
+
+In the midst of this very entertaining discourse I heard another voice
+exclaiming,--
+
+'Look 'ee 'ere, Miss Zusie, this vowl 'ave airt her vut;' and the small
+ploughboy I before mentioned came in at the garden gate, holding a hen
+in his arms.
+
+'Oh, give it to me, Joey,' cried the little girl, full of sympathy for
+the wounded bird. 'How did it happen? Poor dear, poor dear!'
+
+With that Joey poured forth a long account of the accident, to which she
+listened attentively, all the while soothing the lamed hen, and wrapping
+it up in her soft frock.
+
+'I will bathe its poor foot in warm water, and try to get it well,' she
+said, after thanking Joey for bringing it to her; and she went into the
+house, leaving Arabella alone on the lawn, cautioning her, however, 'to
+be a good child until mamma returned.'
+
+It was some days before we again saw the hen, and then she was quite
+restored, and had been given to Susie as her 'very own' because of the
+care she had bestowed upon her; indeed, she had become quite a pet,
+actually was allowed to roam about the flower-garden and lawns; and some
+one had given her the name of 'Zenobia,'--an inconvenient name to call
+when in a hurry, but Susie was very satisfied with it, and so, I
+suppose, was the hen, who seemed to love her little mistress, following
+her wherever she went, eating from her hand, and even perching on her
+shoulder! After some time Zenobia was to be seen walking about, followed
+by a family of nine chickens; and really I cannot tell which was most
+proud of the young brood, Susie or the hen. Susie called them 'loves'
+and 'beauties,' and the hen, she clucked, and made a great fuss over
+them, and, as if determined that their bed should be of roses, insisted
+on roosting every night under a rose-bush which grew near the garden
+gate, instead of the cosy coop with which she had been provided.
+
+Well, one moonlight night we, of course, were awake, though the church
+clock had long since struck the hour of midnight; and it was so still,
+only the voices of the night murmuring among the trees, though
+occasionally we could hear the soft crooning of the hen, as she hushed
+her little family to sleep beneath the rose-bush. Suddenly we heard the
+sound of stealthy footsteps creeping under the wall.
+
+'It is only Dash, the house dog,' whispered a sister-flower, who grew on
+the same stem as myself.
+
+'Dash does not steal along in that crafty manner,' said another.
+
+'Perhaps it is a rabbit,' suggested one, 'or a cat taking a walk.'
+
+'It may be a rat.'
+
+Various conjectures were hazarded by those who grew low down on the
+wall, but I was higher up than they, so, looking cautiously over, what
+should I see but a Fox creeping along, and scenting his prey, with his
+sharp nose close to the ground.
+
+'Good evening!' I called out to him.
+
+He started with alarm, for great rascals are always great cowards.
+
+'Oh, good evening, my friend,' he replied, very blandly. 'Charming
+evening this for a walk.'
+
+'Yes,' I answered sharply; 'but rather late for respectable folks to be
+abroad!'
+
+'Ah yes, just so,' was his response; 'but, you see, my doctor has
+advised me to take quiet rambles.'
+
+'It was not Dr. Quack, was it?' I asked; 'because, poor fellow, he came
+to an untimely end the other night,--had his head bitten off, and his
+body was then dragged across the yard, as I suppose you already know?'
+
+'Dear me!' he ejaculated, with affected pity, and glancing slyly up at
+me out of the corner of his red eyes; 'but how should I know, my
+friend?'
+
+'Oh, because some of your family are strongly suspected,' was my reply;
+'indeed, our Dash is on the watch, so I would advise you to'--
+
+'Good-night, good-night,' he hurriedly exclaimed. 'I feel the winds are
+becoming very chilly.'
+
+So saying, he shuffled off as fast as possible, more especially as at
+that moment Dash began barking furiously, as though he scented a foe.
+How we laughed to think we had frightened the artful fellow away, and
+some of us thought we should never see him again; but we were mistaken,
+for, a few nights after, there he was creeping along so stealthily
+outside the garden wall.
+
+'What do you want?' I called out to him.
+
+'Nothing, my friend, nothing,' was his answer.
+
+'Well, since we do not keep that article here, you had better seek it
+elsewhere,' interposed a brother of mine who is rather saucy.
+
+The Fox paused for a moment, as if hesitating what to say; at length he
+began, in a whining tone of voice,--
+
+'My beloved friends, I perceive I must take you into my confidence. The
+fact is, my worthy doctor says I am in delicate health, and has
+therefore directed me'--
+
+'Well,' I said, seeing that he hesitated; 'what of that?'
+
+'Simply this; he has ordered me to eat only light, digestible food, such
+as chicken,' he went on to say.
+
+'Oh, has he?' I remarked; and then I thought to myself, 'Now can your
+craftiness be seen through: you are after Zenobia; but Susie saved our
+lives, she shall not find the poor despised Fox-gloves ungrateful. We
+will save Zenobia!'
+
+However, Mr. Reynard had not guessed our thoughts (for we all thought
+alike on the subject), but continued,--
+
+'Now, charming friends, I know you have a most delightful hen in this
+garden.'
+
+'Oh yes, and nine such plump chickens!' cried my brother.
+
+'Oh dear, how very nice!' exclaimed the Fox.
+
+'And I have no doubt,' continued my brother, whilst we could hardly
+restrain our mirth, 'but that Zenobia would willingly give them up to
+you, for the honour of being devoured by so distinguished a personage.'
+
+'Would she really?' he cried, swallowing this piece of flattery as
+greedily as he would the chickens.
+
+'Oh yes,' I chimed in; 'but there's one thing I would mention. Grandees
+like you must be formally introduced. Zenobia would be horrified were
+you to appear before her so unceremoniously; she might even refuse your
+request for one of the chickens.'
+
+'What shall I do, then?' he eagerly questioned.
+
+'Why, dress yourself of course, appear _en grande toilette_,' I replied;
+'brush up your whiskers a little more, make your coat look glossy, and,
+above all, put on a pair of gloves!'
+
+'Gloves!' he repeated. 'I have not a single pair; tell me where I can
+purchase them?'
+
+'Leave that to us,' said my brother, bursting with glee. 'Originally,
+you must know, we were Fox-glovers, but somehow we have lost our ancient
+privilege; therefore have the supreme graciousness to restore it to us,
+and we will be only too proud to serve you.'
+
+'Oh, certainly,' assented the Fox, assuming at once an air of patronage
+that was highly amusing. 'I take six and three-quarters,' extending his
+forepad.
+
+'No, surely not!' protested my merry brother; 'you must be mistaken;
+such a pretty little paw as yours cannot possibly require such a large
+glove. Allow me to suggest six and a quarter.'
+
+The Fox agreed to the size named.
+
+'If you will condescend to call here to-morrow night about this time,
+they shall be ready for you,' one of us declared.
+
+'Thank you,' he said loftily, as though he was conferring a favour upon
+us, and off he went, no doubt congratulating himself on his diplomacy.
+As to us, we laughed heartily, knowing how the crafty old fellow would
+be caught in his own toils.
+
+The next day, when we saw Susie feeding and caressing Zenobia, how we
+longed for the power to tell her of the danger that so fearfully menaced
+her pet, but we could not; for, though there is a 'language of flowers,'
+it does not discourse on such a topic as this, therefore we were
+compelled to keep silence; but we were determined to do our best to
+guard little Susie's treasure. Night came, and dark and dreary it was
+too, with heavy clouds drifting across the moon, almost hiding its
+brightness; and it grew so late, past twelve, we began to think Mr.
+Reynard suspected us, and would not come. But he did, looking so sleek
+and shiny, with his coat all spick and span, being freshly brushed, I
+expect.
+
+'Here I am, my friends; it has taken me so long to dress,' he said,
+panting with the haste he had evidently made. 'Is Zenobia--what a sweet
+name, to be sure!' he added in a fawning voice,--'is she here?'
+
+'Of course she is,' I replied; 'can you not hear her crooning to her
+_nine_ children?' with a strong emphasis on the number.
+
+'Sweet, tender creature!' he exclaimed. 'Oh, but to know her yet more
+intimately! Let me jump over the gate to her!'
+
+'What! without your gloves on?' cried several of us at once; 'consider
+how very vulgar you would look.'
+
+'Dear, dear, I quite forgot,' he ejaculated rather impatiently;
+evidently he wanted his supper.
+
+'Here they are,' said my brother; 'pray allow me the honour of putting
+them on for you.'
+
+He saw the fox was all impatience; however, he was obliged to consent,
+and my brother proceeded forthwith to fit on a pair of Fox-gloves made
+expressly by us.
+
+'They are rather a tight fit,' he nervously remarked.
+
+'Rather,' we cried, as my brother held him fast by the paws, and we went
+to assist him in keeping the scoundrel a prisoner.
+
+He saw, when too late, the trap into which he had fallen, and struggled
+hard to get free, even trying to pull us from off the old wall in his
+futile efforts to escape. But we were too securely fixed there for his
+strength to be of any avail; our roots were the growth of years, and,
+besides, we clasped him so tightly--for unity is indeed strength--that
+at last the cowardly fellow roared aloud with mingled pain and fright;
+perhaps he thought to startle us, and make us lose our hold. But we knew
+better than that--_we_ only gripped him the faster; but the noise
+aroused Dash, who came bounding to the spot (he was always unchained at
+night), and, flying at Mr. Reynard's throat, he soon pinned him to the
+ground.
+
+The farmer and his sons must have heard the cries of the Fox and the
+baying of Dash, for presently they came running as fast as possible to
+the spot, armed with all sorts of weapons, and soon despatched the
+rascal.
+
+And it would have pleased you to have heard the praises bestowed upon
+the brave old dog for his courage, which praise he most certainly
+deserved; but no one thought of us. However, we had our reward in
+feeling that we had done our duty, and tried to repay our debt of
+gratitude to little Susie; that was recompense enough for us, nor did we
+wish for more, for--
+
+
+ 'On their own merits Modest men are dumb;'
+
+
+and so say we simple Foxgloves.
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE FOURTH.
+
+THE LITTLE MINER AND HIS FLOWER--TRUST IN GOD.
+
+
+I do not think any of us would care to pass the greater part of our days
+down in a coal mine, or even to live in the vicinity of one. For miles
+around the country is barren of trees or flowers; even the grass does
+not grow there; the very air is dense with black smoke from the numerous
+chimneys, so that the sky is hidden, as it were, by a thick, murky veil.
+But, if thus dreary by day, how much more dreadful does it look at
+night, when the lurid glare from the furnaces lights up the sky with a
+red gleam, which can be seen far and wide! it has then in it something
+terrible.
+
+As I said just now, not a flower can thrive in such a close and heavy
+atmosphere; not even a blade of grass can push its way up through the
+coal-encrusted soil which covers the earth. Well may it be called the
+'Black Country;' and yet there are brave, good men living, ay, and
+working there, day after day descending those dark shafts and in the
+underground of the mines living out their hard, laborious lives, braving
+dangers innumerable, to provide for the wants of their fellow-men; yet I
+wonder how many of us, as we gather round the cosy fireside of home,
+ever think of the hardy miners. All honour, then, to that Christian man,
+whose noble heart thought so much of them and of the risks they
+encounter in the deep mines; his mighty genius studied to avert the
+dangers to which they are exposed, and by his clever invention many
+thousand lives have been saved. Statues are raised to soldiers and
+statesmen, and their deeds are chronicled all over the world, yet the
+simple-hearted Cornish chemist has done more for England's glory than
+all her greatest warriors or statesmen!
+
+Sometimes, it is true, terrible accidents happen even now, and indeed,
+had any one passed through a certain coal district on the day of which
+we speak, a scene of desolation and misery would have presented itself;
+for there had been a colliery accident!--a fearful explosion in a mine
+through some (as yet) unknown cause, and they were now bringing up the
+dead and dying. We too often, alas! read these sad accounts in the
+newspapers, but cannot fully realize the intense anguish and despair
+among the mining population when such a calamity befalls them. Try to
+picture, then, the men, women, and even children, who were gathered in
+anxious groups around the mouth of the pit, eagerly waiting to see if
+any of their kindred were among the hapless victims; and when the brave
+rescue party would appear above the shaft, bearing in their arms the
+sufferers, wailing cries would rend the very air, as some poor woman
+recognised her son or her 'good man' in the crushed and mangled form
+they laid so tenderly down!
+
+There was a little cottage standing among others of the same class, but
+which from its appearance seemed to betoken the residence of one more
+refined than the rest, for snowy curtains draped the windows, the panes
+of which were scrupulously clean, and the doorsteps were as white as
+hands could make them. Going now towards this cottage, a group of men
+might be seen, carefully carrying a heavy burden, over which a sheet
+was spread. It was their foreman--a man loved and respected by them all,
+and the hearts of these rough colliers beat sadly, as they bore him thus
+towards his once happy home!
+
+The rumour of the catastrophe, and of her husband being one among the
+many poor sufferers, had burst upon his wife like the surging of an
+angry wave, overwhelming her with its force, and she sat with ashen
+cheeks and quivering lips, listening with bated breath for that which
+she knew must come, the while convulsively clasping in her arms their
+only child, their fair-haired Davie. But when at last she heard the
+measured tread of those who bore him coming nearer and nearer to her
+door, she rose, with a shivering sob, to meet him, as she had ever done,
+with a loving smile, though now her heart was full of anguish. And he
+knew her, for he put out his poor crushed hand for her to take, faintly
+murmuring,--
+
+'My poor, poor girl!'
+
+Tenderly, as with the gentle touch of woman, those rugged men laid him
+upon the bed from which he had risen in full health and strength, and
+the wife's hand was firm, as softly she removed the garments from his
+mangled limbs. Ah, little had she thought, when she bade him 'Good-bye'
+that morning, his return would have been thus. He had said to Davie in
+his merry way, laying his hand on the boy's curly head,--
+
+'Ah, young man, soon you will be the bread-winner; your old father will
+then be able to sit idle by the ingle and smoke his pipe, whilst mother
+looks on.'
+
+He had returned to the ingle, but Davie was still a child!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A few anxious days, and all was over; the end had come, and he and his
+fellow-sufferers were laid to rest beneath the fresh green turf in a
+distant churchyard, and the poor young widow was alone in the wide
+world, with only little Davie!
+
+But the poor have no time to spare for mourning or regrets; they must be
+up and doing, even though their hearts fail them for very sorrow; yet
+none save those who have suffered can know the utter desolation of
+heart, crushing the very soul to the earth with despair, when the
+father, 'the bread-winner,' is taken from their midst, and those who
+are left know not where to look for help or guidance; and so this poor
+widow sat by the fire-light, with her boy's hand clasped in hers, gazing
+into the glowing embers as if trying to read the future therein. The
+past had been very happy, for her girlhood was spent in a far different
+sphere, but she had freely given up all for him who was now no more, and
+had never repented of the sacrifice made; but, alas! he was gone,
+leaving her alone, and her heart was like to break. And, musing thus,
+she recalled the tones of the dear voice that had ever comforted her
+when in sadness, now silent for ever!--the brave heart so firm of
+purpose that had ceased to beat!--and as she thought of him who had been
+so kind, so true, her courage gave way, and, burying her face in her
+hands, she sobbed aloud, saying,--
+
+'Oh, Davie, Davie! who will care for us now father is gone?'
+
+The child put his arms lovingly around her bowed head, as though it was
+his place to be the comforter.
+
+'Mother darling, the Lord will care for us. He is the friend of the
+widow and fatherless.'
+
+There was something in the boy's voice that struck the mother's ear, for
+she removed her hands from before her face, and, drawing him nearer to
+her, gazed earnestly into those clear blue eyes.
+
+Sudden sorrow often changes the entire nature of people, and the events
+of the last few days had, as it were, transformed little Davie from a
+mere child into a thoughtful boy. Like his namesake of old, 'he was of a
+beautiful countenance,' and as he caressingly smoothed his mother's pale
+cheeks with his soft, gentle hands, she felt she was not desolate, since
+he was left to her. Long they sat in silence. At last the boy said,--
+
+'Mother dear, Mat Morgan says that, as I am now ten years old, it is
+time for me to begin work like the other lads about here.'
+
+'How, Davie?' she dreamily questioned, for her thoughts were wandering
+far away, so that she scarcely heard what he said.
+
+'In the pit with him,' was the reply; 'he is so kind and good, I know he
+will take great care of me.'
+
+'No, no!' she cried, clasping him yet closer to her; 'not in the cruel
+mine that has robbed us of father!--no--not there!'
+
+'Nay, mother darling,' the boy gently urged; 'it was God who took father
+home--and he was ready to go! Besides,' he continued, with all the
+hopefulness of youth, 'I could earn some money every week, and only
+think how useful that would be!'
+
+'But your poor father did not wish you to be a miner; he hoped you would
+become a great and clever man,' the mother replied.
+
+He hesitated for a moment. Bright visions had filled his young head of
+gaining riches and honours 'some day,' that glorious time of the young,
+and he had thought how proud they both would be of him, and they should
+neither of them work any more, but live in a lovely home of _his_
+providing, and never know care any more. And now!--he clenched his small
+hands together, and choked back the big lump rising in his throat as
+bravely he exclaimed,--
+
+'And I will be a clever man, for I will learn at night when I come home,
+and who knows what I may be one day. Mat Morgan says our manager was
+only a poor collier lad once, and look at him now. Besides, they are all
+so good to us here; they loved father dearly.'
+
+So the boy prevailed over her fears, and in a few days he took his place
+by the side of his old friend Mat Morgan, who grew to love him as his
+own child. But the mother's heart was grieved when at night her boy
+returned with the fair golden hair rough and tangled, the once delicate
+hands torn and hardening with toil; yet the child gave no thought to
+that. True, this was not the life he would have chosen, for he was a
+studious boy, but still, was he not 'the bread-winner'? and it was a
+proudly happy day for him when he laid his first earnings in her lap,
+and felt her tears upon his cheek as she kissed and blessed her boy.
+
+But the hour he loved the best was when, casting aside all care, he sat
+on a low stool at her feet, and, with his head resting on her knee,
+listened as she read aloud their evening chapter from the Book of Life;
+he was then the child again, not the toiling little miner-lad!--and oh,
+it was so peaceful!
+
+'"Consider the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they
+spin,"' read the mother one evening.
+
+'But, mother, what are lilies like? I have never seen one, you know,'
+asked the boy, when she had ceased reading and had closed the book.
+
+In simple language, she endeavoured to describe to her town-born child
+the exquisite beauties of the flowers of the field, and he, with an
+innate love of the beautiful, caught readily at all she said, and seemed
+as though he saw them all as she depicted.
+
+'How I should love to be where there are always flowers!' he exclaimed;
+'it must be like paradise! But those I have seen always close up at
+night. I wish there was one here that opened of an evening, as if to
+greet me when I come home!'
+
+I know not how it happened, but the next night, when little Davie
+entered his home, a delicious perfume filled the air, and standing in
+the cottage window was an Evening Primrose, with its petals fully
+expanded.
+
+'Mother, mother,' cried the boy, 'my wish has come true! here is a
+flower opening its blossoms to bid me welcome home;' and in excess of
+delight he knelt and kissed his treasure again and again. And words
+cannot express the love he bestowed upon the plant; it was to him an
+unfeigned joy to watch the growing of each leaf, the gradual unfolding
+of each fresh bud; and every night, on his return from work, his first
+thought, after the thought for his mother, was of his sweet Evening
+Primrose.
+
+Those who gather flowers at will, prize them for a while, then cast them
+carelessly aside, can form no idea of the all-absorbing love the little
+miner lad evinced for his one fair flower; it was his sole treasure, and
+he ever watched and tended it lovingly and well.
+
+But time passed on, and it was Davie's last day in the coal-mine. He was
+going to exchange that toilsome life, so uncongenial to his taste, but
+which stern necessity had made him adopt, for a new and brighter
+occupation, one, too, for which he had always ardently longed. The
+manager of whom he had spoken to his mother had frequently noticed the
+gentle, fair-haired boy; prosperity had not hardened _his_ heart (as it
+so often does), and recollections of the long-ago flashed ever across
+him, when he saw Davie bravely striving to do his best to help his
+mother bear her burden of sorrowful poverty. He too had been a collier
+lad in those far-off days, and 'the only son of _his_ mother, and she
+was a widow.' The grass was green above that dear mother's grave, whose
+latter years had been cheered and comforted by his tender, fostering
+love; but his thoughts were of her, as, laying his hand upon the lad's
+curly head, he kindly asked,--
+
+'Would you like to leave the pit-work, David, and go into the engineers'
+department?'
+
+'What! and become a great man like Stephenson and Brunel? Oh yes, sir!'
+the boy joyfully exclaimed, for, like all youthful ambitions he vaulted
+at once to the highest pinnacle of greatness--there is no midway for the
+ardent young.
+
+The manager smiled at his enthusiasm, as he replied,--
+
+'You can but try, my lad, to be as great and good as they were;' and he
+added, 'You can enter upon your new work next week; there is a vacancy
+for you.'
+
+'But, sir,'--and the boy paused,--'shall I earn wages like I do now?
+because'--
+
+And his voice failed him, he could not utter the thought of his
+heart,--should he still be able to help his mother?
+
+The gentleman understood his hesitation, for he said kindly,--
+
+'Yes, my little man, you will earn good wages, and, if you are only good
+and steady like your poor father before you, I've no doubt but that you
+may become a great man one day;' and he smiled encouragingly into the
+boy's upturned face, a face which was beaming with hope and happiness.
+
+As to Davie, he raised his generous friend's hand to his lips, for he
+could not speak for very gratitude; then, with his blue eyes sparkling
+with joy, ran quickly home to tell the blissful news.
+
+'Mother, mother!' he cried, bursting in upon her as she sat at work; 'I
+_shall_ become a great man now, and you shall ride in a carriage, and
+never work any more;' and then, with his arms around her neck and his
+curly head resting lovingly upon her shoulder, he poured forth his
+bright hopes for the future.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+So the last day came for working in the dark mine, and to-morrow--oh,
+to-morrow!
+
+'But I'll miss ye, Davie,' Mat Morgan observed, as he and his little
+friend trudged on side by side to work; 'ye be bright and cheery-like
+down there,' pointing with his pipe towards the pit. 'And maybe ye'll
+forget the missis and me when ye gets to be a great man, as ye says
+ye'll be one day, and I makes no doubt but ye will be too. Ye be summat
+like yer poor fayther, my lad; he were allers above we.'
+
+'Nay, Master Morgan!' cried the boy reproachfully; 'were you not my
+first friend, when dear father died? You don't mean that, I know!
+looking up at his old friend's rugged face with eyes full of tears.
+Then, brushing them away with his jacket sleeve,--it was not manly to
+cry, he thought,--he continued, 'No, when I am rich, you and Mrs. Morgan
+shall both live in a big house with mother and me; we will ride in a
+grand carriage, and be so happy all together, and never look at black
+coals except to burn them.'
+
+The old miner smiled as he listened to the boy's bright day-dreams, yet
+still he could not help feeling somewhat sad, for he dearly loved the
+lad, and knew how much he should miss his merry chatter and song, which
+so beguiled the time while they worked together down in the mine.
+
+But the time passed on much as on other days; when, just as they were
+preparing to leave off work, and another gang was coming to relieve
+them, a low, rumbling sound was heard. One or two of the men ran to the
+entrance of the working, Mat Morgan among the number, and his face was
+blanched when he returned to his comrades.
+
+'What is it, Master Morgan?' asked Davie, looking up at him with an
+undefined dread.
+
+'My lad,' was his reply, and his voice was very calm, 'there has been a
+landslip in the sidings, and we are shut in.'
+
+'But can we not get out?' he questioned.
+
+'No, never again, unless help comes,' he hoarsely whispered, for his
+brave heart stood still at the terrible danger they were in.
+
+Indeed, no pen can express the terror that filled the hearts of these
+brave and hardy men at the thought of being thus entombed in a living
+grave; they quailed not when meeting death face to face, but shrank in
+dread at the slowly advancing foe.
+
+All but the boy!
+
+The light from the flickering lamps the miners carried fell upon his
+delicate features; but his eyes brightly gleamed, as, laying his hands
+on the bowed head of his old friend, he softly said,--
+
+'Master Morgan, let us not fear; our God is with us still!'
+
+'Maybe He has forgotten us, Davie,' the man pitifully moaned, for even
+his strong courage had broken down in face of this calamity.
+
+'No, no,' soothed the boy. '"Yea, though I walk through the valley of
+the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me:" is it
+not so?'
+
+There was something so calm, so trustful in the child's faith in God's
+mercy, that the poor stricken men listened as he tried to cheer them
+with thoughts of that Power who is mighty to save.
+
+The weary hours dragged their slow length along, and, though help came
+not yet, his perfect trust in God never wavered. Some of the men gave
+themselves up to despair, and lay down where they had sat cowering,
+prepared to die. The lamps went out by degrees as the oil was expended,
+adding to the horror of the situation by leaving them in utter darkness.
+And yet, though death appeared so near, it had no terrors for little
+Davie, for God was nearer still.
+
+'Shall I sing to you, Master Morgan?' the boy asked, as he laid his
+weary head down upon his friend's broad shoulder.
+
+'Ay, ay, my lad,' was the sole reply the poor man could make.
+
+Then through the awful silence and darkness of this fearful grave rang
+the sweet, clear tones of the child's voice, singing--
+
+
+ 'Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
+ Let me hide myself in Thee.'
+
+
+'Hark!' he cried, suddenly pausing in the hymn; 'they are striving to
+clear the working--I hear the sound of their picks! We are saved! we are
+saved!' he joyously shouted.
+
+With the sense of hearing preternaturally sharpened, these poor men, who
+had given themselves up for lost, also listened; those who had lain down
+to die rising up and listening with every nerve acutely strained to
+catch the faintest sound. Yes, they could hear their deliverers bravely
+working to set them free.
+
+Then arose as with one voice their glad song of deliverance,--
+
+
+ 'Thou canst save, and Thou alone!'
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Tenderly they bore him home to his mother, that brave, noble child,
+whose simple trust had sustained their failing hearts in that hour of
+trial and suffering.
+
+But reaction had set in, and he was weak and fainting when they laid him
+in her arms, yet he feebly murmured, striving for her sake to appear
+still strong,--
+
+'Oh, mother darling, I am so glad to be at home again! I thought I
+should never more see you, nor my Evening Primrose. But, mother, why is
+it still so dark?'
+
+She glanced in terror at his soft blue eyes, which to her looked as
+clear as ever. But why was it that, though the morning light was
+streaming in through the open window, to him it still was dark?
+
+She breathed not one word of her fear to him, though the icy dread
+chilled her to the heart, but, laying him gently down in his own cosy
+bed, Soothed him with loving caresses, bidding him--
+
+'Try to sleep, and forget it all!'
+
+Then, when sleep came to the over-wrought brain, she left him in the
+care of a kindly neighbour, and went tremblingly forth to seek her
+child's trusty old friend.
+
+She found Mat Morgan seated in his arm-chair (for, like the rest of the
+miners who had been in this imminent peril, he had escaped unhurt),
+recounting to a group of neighbours the wonderful faith of little Davie,
+whose trust in God never failed, even when the shadows of the dark
+angel's wings had hovered so closely over them.
+
+'Oh, Master Morgan!' the poor mother cried, as with clasped hands and
+quivering lips she overheard him thus dilating on her boy's noble
+fortitude and humble Christian faith; 'my darling Davie! he will never,
+never look on us again this side the grave. He'--
+
+'He be no dead, ma'am!' exclaimed the old man, starting from his chair,
+while sympathizing friends gathered round her with words of tender pity.
+
+'No, no, not dead, thank God!' she sobbed; 'but blind, I fear. Oh, my
+little boy, my Davie!'
+
+'Maybe not,' he replied, endeavouring to comfort her. 'I'll jest go wi'
+ye. I've known sich things afore, when men have been shut up in the dark
+some hours,--and _we_ were nigh upon three days in the pit, mind ye--the
+shock of seein' the daylight kind o' dazes the sight for a while. So ye
+must not greet, but hope and trust in our heavenly Father, as your
+little lad ever does, I'm thinkin'! Come along.'
+
+How eagerly did she hasten home, all anxiety to prove if the old miner's
+opinion was right, and 'hoping against hope' that the child's sight had
+become cleared while he slept, and that when he awoke he would look upon
+her with unclouded eyes. Her heart beat so violently she could scarcely
+speak, as, standing by his bedside, she saw his blue eyes were unclosed
+and apparently gazing upon her where she stood with Mat Morgan by her
+side.
+
+'Davie,' she whispered softly, bending over him and kissing the parted
+lips, 'here is Master Morgan come to see you.'
+
+'Where is he?' the boy joyfully cried. 'He is not hurt, then? Oh, I am
+so glad! But, mother dear, I cannot see him, nor you; there seems like a
+shadow over my eyes. Oh, mother,' he piteously moaned, as the sad truth
+appeared to strike him, 'tell me, I am not blind, am I?'
+
+Then, as she could not for very anguish reply to his eager question, his
+noble courage gave way, and, throwing himself upon his pillow, he
+uttered a piercing cry of untold despair.
+
+The poor mother knelt beside him with arms closely folding him to her
+heart, unable to soothe, save with loving caresses, her child's
+unutterable anguish.
+
+'Nay, Davie, my man,' cried the old miner, wiping his eyes with the back
+of his rough hand, 'ye did no greet when death a'most stared us in the
+face; why do ye sorrow now, my brave lad?'
+
+'Oh, but then I should have been with God! Now'--and his sobs
+redoubled--'I shall never see mother's dear face again, nor yours,
+Master Morgan; and for me my Evening Primrose will never open its buds
+again. And oh, if I am blind, I can never more be mother's little
+bread-winner.'
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The parable is told!
+
+Little Davie eventually recovered his sight, thanks to the generous
+kindness of the manager, who spared no means to procure the best
+surgical aid for the poor little lad; and in the years that quickly
+followed, he became the stay and comfort of his widowed mother,
+retaining ever his filial affection for her, and cherishing fond
+recollections of those early days when his only treasures were her love
+and his Evening Primrose.
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE FIFTH.
+
+THE LITTLE SEED--KINDNESS.
+
+
+'Why, what have you got in your beak?' asked a dingy London Sparrow of
+another, just as dingy as himself.
+
+'Well, I hardly know,' replied his friend, laying down the article in
+question, and surveying it critically with his head on one side; 'but it
+seems to me as though it is a seed--of some sort!'
+
+'So it is,' assented the other, as he hopped nearer and attentively
+examined the treasure-trove. 'Yes,'--as if the idea had suddenly
+suggested itself,--'yes, it _is_ a seed. Where did you find it?'
+
+'I did not steal it,' exclaimed the owner of the property, who evidently
+resented a something in his companion's manner of questioning; 'I
+honestly picked it up in a garden, where it was lying on the _top_ of
+the earth, not _in_ it,' he added, with emphasis. 'I expect the wind
+blew it there, for the gales have been very high these last few days.'
+
+'Yes, yes,' replied the questioner with alacrity; perhaps he feared he
+had wounded his friend's feelings, and dreaded lest there might ensue a
+squabble, for sparrows, it must be confessed, are easily affronted over
+trifles, though, as a rule, they are good-tempered little fellows
+enough, putting up with scanty fare and homely lodgings very contentedly
+and cheerfully. 'I wonder what kind of seed it is, do you know?' he
+still further questioned, being of an inquisitive turn of mind.
+
+'No, I do not,' replied the finder.
+
+'Ah,' he said, with a sigh that ruffled all his feathers, 'if we did but
+live in the beautiful green hedgerows, instead of dwelling among town
+chimneys, we should soon know what it was; our country cousins would be
+able to tell us in a moment if it was good to eat or not. By the bye,
+shall you eat it?' he pursued, eyeing his friend in the same keen way as
+he eyed occasional crumbs of bread, his sharp little eye glancing quick
+and bright whilst waiting for the reply.
+
+'No,' answered the other; 'I shall give it away.'
+
+'Give it away!' he repeated, in utter astonishment at the idea; 'who
+to?'
+
+'Why, in my travels about this city, I have noticed a small window up
+among the chimneys in the East End of London--it's a mere garret, I
+expect.'
+
+'Well?' ejaculated the listener, somewhat impatiently.
+
+'I have also observed,' pursued his companion deliberately, 'that on the
+ledge of this window there are two or three flower-pots with some tiny
+pieces of green trying to shoot out of the dry mould.'
+
+'What have those flower-pots and the dry mould to do with this seed?'
+was the question he sharply put.
+
+'I think,' continued the other Sparrow, not heeding the interruption,
+'this must be a flower-seed, since I found it in a garden well known to
+me for its loveliness,--for, as a rule, I go about with my eyes open,'
+he added. 'Now at this attic window of which I spoke,' he went on
+saying, 'I have seen a poor pale-faced girl for ever bending over
+needlework, although sometimes, but very rarely, I have observed her
+carefully watering and tending those flower-pots with their feeble
+attempts at greenery.'
+
+'Have you nearly finished your touching description?' asked the friend,
+with a sneer.
+
+'Now,' went on the Sparrow, as though he had not heard this remark, 'the
+soil does not look very inviting, yet I have been thinking that, as
+there has been rain during the night, the mould may be a little softened
+perhaps; so if I alight on the window-sill, and drop this seed into one
+of those pots, a pretty flower _might_ come up in time, and then how
+glad the poor girl would be!--why, it would actually give her
+happiness.'
+
+And the reflection merely of this hoped-for pleasure so brightened up
+the little bird that he looked positively lovely! Not even a bird of
+paradise could have appeared more glorious, dingy brown though our tiny
+hero's plumage was; but good deeds and kind words always bring a
+brightness with them.
+
+'Oh, that is what you intend doing!' remarked the other, who had been
+pruning his flecked feathers whilst listening to this delightful
+plan;--perhaps he might have imagined the treasure would come to him,
+since his friend was not going to keep it himself. 'You are very
+generous,' he added, with a slight touch of sarcasm.
+
+But the kind little Sparrow did not mind; his heart was too full of
+noble intentions to notice trivial things. He merely said,--
+
+'So now I'm off! Good-bye for the present. I shall be back in time for
+roost.'
+
+'Oh, you are going, are you?' was the comment, as his friend picked up
+the seed again in his beak and flew away.
+
+But, as he darted off, a sunbeam peeped round a corner just to see what
+the dear little fellow looked like, and this very sunbeam threw such a
+halo around him, you would have thought his feathers had been burnished
+gold. Then his voice, too, sounded so cheerily, as, with a merry
+'Twit-twit-twee,' he disappeared from view, intent on his errand of
+kindness.
+
+'I'm sure I should not have troubled myself to carry that burden so far,
+but should have eaten it for my dinner,' muttered the one sitting on the
+water-spout. 'Dear me, what's that?' as he caught sight of a shadow
+round an angle of the roof. 'Oh, gracious!' and he gave such a jump in
+his terror, as he recognised Pussie taking a walk on the tiles, looking
+out for her dinner, no doubt.
+
+You may be quite sure Mr. Sparrow did not wait until Pussie came up to
+him, but flew away to a safe distance.
+
+Meanwhile the other bird was speeding on his errand of kindness. He did
+not feel the weight of his burden, but went bravely on, only
+occasionally resting on a water-spout or a parapet, just for a second or
+two, but never losing sight of his precious seed; though sometimes he
+was sadly annoyed by other Sparrows coming up, and, with great fuss and
+chatter, inquiring as to what he was so carefully carrying. But he was
+very cautious, and always kept an eye upon his treasure (answering their
+questions curtly), for London Sparrows have the character of being not
+_too_ honest, with what truth it cannot be said; let us hope the charge
+is unfounded. Still our hero thought it advisable to be watchful;
+therefore, after satisfying all curiosity on the subject, as much at
+least as he deemed needful, he flew off again on his mission--without
+telling them the ultimate destination of his seed, fearing, perhaps,
+they might be unable to resist the temptation of picking it out of the
+mould into which he intended to drop it.
+
+By and by he left the more respectable part of the city, and winged his
+way as near as he could remember towards the attic window, where he had
+so often seen the poor work-girl busy at her weary task. But a heavy
+cloud of smoke darkened the air, and a perfect forest of masts
+bewildered him, for he had come to that part of London where the ships
+are to be seen--thousands of vessels from all countries of the world.
+Still, though he was puzzled for a while, yet he felt sure the house was
+near this place, as he recollected having seen these docks before. What
+should he do? He paused for a bit upon a slanting roof just to look
+around. Oh, the smuts, how they settled upon his feathers! he was
+obliged to preen himself, he felt so dirty; if his coat was a dingy
+brown, there was no occasion for its being dirty also! All at once, as
+he paused during the process of preening, he saw the very window right
+in front of him,--he recognised it by its cleanliness, such a contrast
+to the squalor around. Yes, there it was, the polished panes of glass
+glinting in the gleams of light that came now and then through the
+murky atmosphere; and there were the three flower-pots. Why, actually
+they had been washed, they looked so freshly red!--or perhaps painted.
+
+Away he joyfully flew, his task was nearly done; but alas for hopes of
+birds or people! Just as he was about to alight upon the window-sill, a
+tiresome bird--a Sparrow--came flying towards him, exclaiming,--
+
+'Hallo! who are you, I should like to know?' and so startled was he when
+accosted thus abruptly, that in his fright he dropped his dear and
+precious treasure.
+
+Down, down it fell upon a deal case a man was wheeling on a truck. The
+man did not notice the tiny grain that fell; perhaps, had he done so,
+would merely have thought it was a particle of dust; but the poor bird's
+heart was sorely grieved as he saw it disappear, after all the trouble
+he had taken to bring it thus far, and he sat upon the window-ledge of
+the girl's room with ruffled plumage and dim eyes, utterly crushed by
+this untoward loss. It was too bad!
+
+But after a while he took heart, and looked the disappointment boldly in
+the face, which is always the better plan than brooding over it.
+
+'It can't be helped,' he said wisely, rousing from his sorrowful
+reflections, and giving his feathers a shake together. 'I did my best,
+and could do no more. It is a loss certainly, but no doubt there are
+other flower-seeds to be found, so I'll go to-morrow morning to that
+same garden, and see if there are any more to be had. Dear me!' he
+continued, glancing up with his now bright eyes at the sky; 'why, it is
+getting late. I must make haste home, or else my friends will be
+anxious, and fear that I have come to grief.'
+
+So saying, he flew away, not without a note of farewell to the girl, who
+had been looking at him all the time he sat there so disconsolately,
+wondering in her own mind why he was perched there so ruffled and sad,
+little dreaming of his kindly intentions towards her--how should
+she?--so away he went, and reached his place of abode just as his
+brothers and friends were going to roost.
+
+You may be quite sure he was received with a perfect volley of
+questions.
+
+'Where have you been?' asked some who were ignorant of his scheme.
+
+'How did you manage?' questioned others who knew.
+
+'What sort of a place is it?' inquired several.
+
+Poor little bird! he was obliged to confess his failure, which he did
+with reluctance; yet still he bore his disappointment so cheerfully and
+bravely, they could not help sympathizing with him, promising to help in
+the good work next time. Even the Sparrow who had jeered somewhat at him
+was really sorry, and consoled him so kindly, that he went to sleep with
+his head tucked under his wing, in a far happier frame of mind than he
+could have supposed possible, after such a grievous sorrow.
+
+And the seed?
+
+As it was being jostled on the top of the packing-case, it thought to
+itself:
+
+'There's an end to me, I suppose. I shall be shrivelled up to nothing
+for want of nourishing earth, and shall do good to no one. What a pity
+that dear little Sparrow's kind intention was frustrated by that
+meddlesome and inquisitive bird! I am sure I would have done my duty to
+the utmost, and realized his wish by growing as fast as possible, and
+looking cheerful and gay when in flower. Well, well, it is no use being
+unhappy; I must only wait patiently, hoping that a chance of doing good
+may occur. Who knows what may happen?'
+
+And at that very moment, the truck the man was wheeling gave a lurch,
+and in consequence the tiny seed rolled along until it slipped down a
+crevice in the lid, and found a comfortable resting-place inside amongst
+some soft hay with which the case was packed.
+
+'This is cosy,' it remarked, nestling in the warmth; 'perhaps after all
+I am reserved for some good purpose. I had become desponding, but there
+is always a brightness behind the darkest cloud.'
+
+So it cuddled down contentedly, not knowing or heeding whither it was
+taken, only resting satisfied with the reflection that whatever happened
+was for the best. And so the packing-case was put on board one of the
+great ships in the docks, and in a few days away sailed the ship,
+packing-case, and little seed, far over the ocean, leaving England many
+thousand miles behind.
+
+Not having been to Australia, we cannot describe what the little seed
+next beheld. But when the sun once again shone upon it, it was in a very
+different country to this dear land of ours.
+
+The case had been emptied of its contents, and the hay and straw with
+which it had been packed was thrown aside upon the ground, and there lay
+the seed, so tiny that it was quite unheeded, indeed it is to be doubted
+whether it was even seen; but the loving God, who has created nothing in
+vain, had still a use for the small grain. A soft wind came and carried
+it to some moist earth, into which it sank, thankful for the rest and
+quiet after the past turmoil.
+
+But its work was not finished.
+
+By and by came up a little slender green shoot, then a leaf or two, and
+after a while, in due season, some pretty bell-shaped flowers, almost
+white, with just a tinge of delicate purple, made their appearance, and
+there they swayed in the breeze--English Wood Anemones in a distant
+land.
+
+And in this distant land a young English girl had her home; and bright
+and beautiful it was, with huge trees and gorgeous flowers, unheard of
+and unseen in the country village from which she had come. But, bright
+and beautiful as her new home was, she often sighed for the green
+hedgerows and sweet wayside flowers of dear old England; not that she
+murmured because God had sent her thither, only the love of her old home
+and old home memories yet lingered in her heart.
+
+Think, then, what her joy was, when, one day as she wandered alone,
+gazing on gorgeous blossoms rich in brilliant colours, down at her feet
+she spied, waving its delicate-tinted elf-bells in the warm, soft
+breeze, the Wood Anemone.
+
+Could it be possible? That well-known English flower blooming there! How
+could it have come across the ocean?
+
+Ah, how often had she seen it at home--for England is ever home to those
+who are far away--seen it in the early spring days clustering thickly in
+the woods and copse, heralding the cuckoo, and bringing with it a
+promise of summer days to come.
+
+'Dear, dear little flower!' she cried, kneeling down and kissing, in
+excess of joy, its delicate petals. 'Welcome a thousand times, for you
+bring with you memories from the old land. I will not gather your
+pretty flowers, nor take them away to myself, but will leave you here,
+so that others, perhaps more home-sick than I, will take heart, and be
+cheered by your soothing though silent message.'
+
+And the young girl was right.
+
+Others passing by--some poor wanderers, footsore and weary--were cheered
+by the bonnie wild-flower, which, happy in giving happiness to others,
+swayed its tiny bells as it danced in utter gladness, whispering to the
+wild bees who also came to visit it,--
+
+'I thought at one time, when the Sparrow let me fall, that there was no
+more use for me in the world, that my work was finished; but God had
+still a mission for me, and I have done what others equally small can
+do--given happiness, and cheered those who came across my path. It is
+not much to do,' it continued meekly, 'not great and glorious deeds at
+which the world stands amazed; but it was all I could do, and was the
+work He meant for me--we must not despise the day of small things. The
+acorn is very small, yet look at the oak. A gentle word, a bright
+smile, is not hard to bestow, but oh, the blessing they can be to hearts
+pining perhaps for kindness!'
+
+ * * * * *
+
+So the Sparrow's good intention was carried out after all.
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE SIXTH.
+
+THE CROWN IMPERIAL--HOPE.
+
+
+Have you ever seen a Crown Imperial, that lovely flower which comes in
+the early spring-time, just after the Snowdrops have gone? You will not
+find it in _new_ gardens, I fear; but in those delightful shady nooks
+and corners where the old-fashioned flowers seem to come and go just as
+they please, there it is to be found, coming up year after year in all
+its beauty, and yet, though so lovely, meekly drooping its velvet
+petals, upon which tear-drops are ever resting.
+
+It has been said that it droops thus in humiliation, because its pride
+was once rebuked; but I do not think that aught so lovely could be
+unduly proud! Even the acknowledged queen of the garden, the stately
+Rose, is gentle in her beauty; and 'Consider the lilies,' though
+'Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed' like them, yet how meekly
+they bloom beneath our feet!
+
+Then shall the Crown Imperial tell its tale to you, and see what lesson
+we can learn from it? No, an old yew tree shall relate the story. Listen
+to what it says:--
+
+'Many, many years have I stood on this spot, from the time that I was a
+tiny sapling until now, when my branches spread far and wide, covering
+the earth beneath with shadow. Summer sunshine has touched with its
+fiercely scorching breath, and winter snows have shrouded me in fleecy
+garments, but the old yew tree has weathered so far the storms of life,
+growing year by year more twisted and gnarled as time passed on. I have
+seen the song-birds come and depart; some have even built their nests
+within my leafy branches. I have watched sweet flowers blossom, then
+fade, but among the many lovely flowerets I have loved--for the old dry
+tree has a tender heart, my children--there was one whose very
+gentleness made me love it even yet more dearly. It was a Crown
+Imperial.
+
+'The spring was commencing to gladden the earth when first I perceived
+it, forcing its way timidly through the soft grassy lawn of an old, old
+garden. Who had placed the parent bulb beneath that turf was never
+known, for the owners of the estate had passed with their generation
+from the land, and strangers had come to reside in the ancient
+homestead, but there was this fragile plant, outliving, as it were,
+those who had planted it, and coming up, year after year, to gladden
+other eyes than those which had first beheld its beauty--like good
+actions and gentle words--imperishable!
+
+'So day by day I watched it grow, stronger and stronger, higher and
+higher, and, as it grew, spreading gradually its beautiful, shining
+leaves; but when it had reached its full height, behold, it was crowned
+with a diadem of the softest green--an emerald crown worthy the brow of
+a queen!
+
+'Then by degrees I saw its blossoms begin to unfold, the velvet petals
+richer far than the feeble looms of man can weave; but, as they
+unclosed, to my intense surprise, they were not uplifted to the
+sunshine and blue sky, but meekly bowed--drooping earthward.
+
+'"They will gaze upward by and by," I said to myself, "and, when they
+know and feel the power of their beauty, will court the admiration they
+are sure to win."
+
+'But I was wrong.
+
+'Pride had no place within their lowly hearts--never were their flowers
+lifted up--their glances were ever bent in sweet humility towards the
+green sod from which they had sprung, and, as I gazed upon them, I saw
+that on each lovely petal there ever rested a tear.
+
+'"Why this sadness?" I mused. "Surely so lovely and guileless a flower
+can know no sorrow, since sorrow often goes hand in hand with sin; this
+Crown Imperial must surely be as faultless as it is beautiful!"
+
+'Yet I hesitated to ask the reason; there was a gentle and reserved
+timidity about it, that checked all questionings. The cause of this
+unspoken grief would be revealed to me sooner or later, I felt
+convinced.
+
+'The days passed on with sunshine and shadows, and, as the hours fled, I
+saw with regret that stern Time had relentlessly breathed with his
+withering breath upon my much-loved flower! Gradually and slowly its
+blossoms pined, the lovely colours faded,--almost imperceptibly, 'tis
+true, still they faded,--its fresh green crown became less purely
+bright, and I knew with anguish my sweet one was dying.
+
+'Then, and not till then, did it raise its faint eyes heavenward--they
+were tearless now. I could restrain my wonder no more.
+
+'"Why, oh, why wert thou weeping and gazing ever earthward when in thy
+peerless beauty, sad and disconsolate--and now that thou art fading from
+us thou art happy?" I asked in my sorrowful regret; perhaps reproach was
+mingled with my complaint.
+
+'"Is it not ever so?" the gentle flower replied. "Whilst burdened with
+Life's sorrows, our eyes are tear-dimmed. The cares of this world press
+heavily upon our hearts, so that we scarce can lift our thoughts from
+this earth--cold and weary though it is--to gaze upward. It is only when
+we are passing from all shadows into the Divine Light that we can look
+heavenward, yet even then the tear-drops linger. But when earthly
+sojourners have passed through the dark valley into the Eternal
+Brightness, then, and only then, will they be freed from anguish; then,
+and only then, will eyes be no longer dimmed by sorrow--for God Himself
+shall wipe away all tears!"'
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE SEVENTH.
+
+THE TWO LEAVES--DISCONTENT.
+
+
+Once upon a time, as the good old fairy tales always begin, there grew
+by the side of a little brook a large Oak tree.
+
+The brook was a bright, sunlit stream, gliding along so cheerfully to
+join the river, between grassy banks, kissing the willows which bent
+down towards it, or whispering softly to the blue Forget-me-nots; and so
+clear was it, you could see the smooth pebbles lying at the bottom, and
+the fish skimming along gaily, as if there were no such things in the
+whole world as fishing-rods.
+
+All through the day it rippled merrily, catching every ray of sunlight
+that flickered through the trees or the blue sky above; but if an angry
+black cloud ever chanced to see itself reflected in its clear mirror,
+it scudded away as if ashamed of looking so dark.
+
+But at night, when the holy stars were shining, ah, how softly the
+little brook murmured to them! you could almost fancy it did not babble
+so loudly as in the day-time, for fear lest it should wake the sleeping
+flowers on its mossy banks.
+
+It was a happy little stream, so calm, so placid, no angry ripples ever
+disturbed its pure surface, over which the Swallows lightly skimmed. And
+it meandered along for many miles; sometimes you would lose sight of it
+altogether, then out it would come from some quiet, grassy nook, gaily
+sparkling, and glide with a merry sound, as if laughing, towards the
+steady rushes, and they would sway to and fro at its approach, dancing
+to its rippling music.
+
+But, as I was saying, a sturdy Oak grew by the side of the brook; it had
+sprung from an acorn many hundred years ago, now it was very old. Wintry
+storms had vainly tried to subdue it; many a time they had bent its
+branches, plucked at its roots, but fruitless was their fury, for the
+noble tree firmly held its place, rearing its proud head more loftily
+than ever; and so the storms, finding their power availed them nought,
+passed away over the land, howling with rage at their failure.
+
+Then, oh, how the birds loved the clear old tree! Summer after summer
+did they return to build nests among its moss-grown branches; and the
+branches, glad that the songsters had come back again, would put forth
+green leaves to hide them from prying eyes, so that they could rest
+there securely. Can you wonder, then, that they sang sweet songs of
+gratitude to it, and that the little brook should murmur her sweet
+melody as she glided along at its feet?
+
+On the opposite bank grew an Aspen.
+
+It was not so old as the Oak, who had seen it grow up from a mere
+sapling; still they had been neighbours for many years, and the graceful
+Aspen looked with love and reverence upon her aged friend's sturdy face
+and form. Often, in the calm summer nights, the Oak would talk to her of
+the days of the long-ago; you would have thought it was merely the
+breeze sighing amidst the branches, but it was the voice of the Oak
+telling of the past.
+
+Many of the birds imagined the Aspen to be a weak, trembling tree,
+quivering always with fear at the slightest wind that ruffled its
+branches.
+
+'Scarcely safe to build a nest in!' so said an old motherly Rook, who
+had reared many a brood.
+
+But the fairies who danced beneath its shade on bright moonlight nights
+knew better; they knew that the fragile-_looking_ tree never trembled
+with fear; they had often seen it meekly bend beneath the sway of the
+fierce wintry blasts, knowing full well whose hand guided the storm; and
+when the summer came they knew that then it quivered with happiness at
+being created on so fair an earth, and that its leaves only shook with
+quiet laughter as it listened to the merry chatter of the brook.
+
+Well--winter had passed with his frosts and snows, and spring was
+scattering her flowers everywhere. The Cuckoo was calling aloud,
+'Cuckoo, cuckoo,' all day long, never heeding the young folks who mocked
+his song; even the Swallows had returned from the warm, sunny South, and
+were for ever skimming over the brook, just dipping their wings into its
+limpid waves, then off again with the joyous 'Twit, twit, twit.' The
+meadows, too, were yellow with buttercups, in which the cows waded
+knee-deep. Talk of the Field of the Cloth of Gold! Francis the First
+would have been a clever man could he have made such an one!--no earthly
+king could create golden fields like these.
+
+All nature was rejoicing in earth's brightness, and our old friends the
+Oak and the Aspen as much as any. They had put forth their fresh green
+leaves, and beneath their shade many a tired traveller rested from the
+noonday sun, thanking them both in his heart for the welcome shelter.
+
+During the winter the Oak had not been idle, for it had extended its
+branches far and wide; one, indeed, stretched right across the brook, in
+fact, almost touched its opposite neighbour, and the Aspen welcomed it
+gladly. You would have thought it great happiness to live in such a
+lovely spot, I know, but there is never perfect bliss, and if little
+folks _will_ be discontented, they make the prettiest place appear
+wretched and miserable.
+
+Now, among the leaves of the Oak there was one that was always restless
+and fidgety. In vain the sweet birds perched near and sang to him, and
+the gentle brook murmured tales of other scenes--he never seemed happy.
+The fairies, too, as I before said, danced by moonlight at the very
+foot of the parent tree, yet even that brave sight gave him no pleasure,
+though his brother and sister leaves would clap their tiny hands in
+ecstasy.
+
+'It disturbed his sleep,' he said. 'Why could they not dance in the
+day-time?--not when all respectable leaves and flowers were sleeping!
+making such a noise, especially that mischievous Puck!'
+
+And, unfortunately, he grew on the branch nearest to the Aspen, and his
+constant grumbles made them quiver with sorrow and pain at such
+incessant complainings. As to his own relatives, they would not listen,
+but frisked about merrily enough when the zephyrs came and played with
+them.
+
+'Alas!' said he one day to a little Aspen leaf that grew on a branch
+close by, and who had patiently borne with his ungrateful complaints;
+'how sad is our lot! Here we are always attached to the same place, in a
+state of cruel bondage; everything around us moves: the birds, happy in
+their liberty, fly here and there, singing ever their songs of joy; even
+the beasts of the forests are free--whilst we--ah me!--we never lose
+our galling chains but in dying!'
+
+'Why do you murmur thus?' asked the Aspen leaf in a sweet, tremulous
+voice; 'why are you not contented?'
+
+'Oh, it is all very well for you to preach contentment,' it pertly
+replied, turning up its point with contempt. 'I am a leaf of intellect.
+I hate this aimless, monotonous life; it does very well for such silly,
+trembling things as you and yours,--not for me!'
+
+For a moment the little Aspen leaf felt its pride wounded by the
+contemptuous speech of its neighbour, and was strongly disposed to
+answer in the same strain; but fortunately, a fairy who chanced to be
+passing at the time laid her silver wand lightly on its lips, so with a
+smile she merely said,--
+
+'Yes, I know I am timid, and cling to my parent tree for security and
+protection. What would you do if you were free? We are so happy here, I
+would not leave my home; the soft breezes are ever among us with
+cheerful stories of the countries they have visited to amuse us; and as
+to the birds, why, all the day long they are singing their sweetest
+melodies to gladden our hearts and cheer us.'
+
+'I have heard their songs until I am quite tired of their sameness,' was
+the ungrateful response; 'besides, in a few months the cold winds will
+be here, and then we shall fall to the ground and be trodden under
+foot--that will be the end of us. So I am determined to see something of
+the world before that time comes. I shall go off with the first north
+wind that visits us--so I tell you. You will not reason me out of my
+plan.'
+
+'Oh, stay, stay with us!' cried the trembling listener; 'you cannot
+surely know the sorrow you would cause, nor the troubles you would have
+to endure. It is true we leave our kind branches but to die, but we are
+not carelessly trodden on; the rustling of we poor faded leaves beneath
+man's feet recall to his mind pure and holy thoughts of the unknown
+future, filling his heart with unuttered prayers to the Great Power who
+changeth not. Then, if we poor leaves can teach a lesson, we have not
+lived in vain. Do not murmur at your humble fate, dear friend, but stay
+with us, contented with your simple destiny and the goodness of God.'
+
+The Aspen leaf ceased speaking, overcome by its emotion, whilst the
+little grumbler, silenced, but not convinced, turned sulkily away. It
+did not relish the kind advice of its true friend, nor did it at all
+intend to follow it, but still it settled down on its tiny twig so very
+quietly, that all its relatives firmly believed it had given up its
+foolish scheme of imaginary happy freedom; but they were mistaken, for a
+few days after a north wind came quite unexpectedly upon them. It bent
+the Aspen tree almost to breaking, still the loving little leaves clung
+trembling to their parent, feeling that their very safety rested on
+their keeping close to it. Then, finding its strength was in vain, away
+the north wind rushed to the sturdy old Oak, swaying its branches wildly
+about, and even making them crack in its fierce rage.
+
+But the Oak reared its proud head defiantly, and its leaves hung tightly
+on--all save one. Alas! with a mocking laugh at his friends' and his
+brothers' fears, he threw himself into the arms of the cruel north wind,
+who bore him swiftly away, and ere the night came the foolish leaf lay
+faded and dead.
+
+As he was whirled away, a sad, sad moan sighed through the branches of
+the old Oak. 'Twas a cry of anguish for its wilful child.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The bright summer was gone.
+
+One by one the leaves were falling. With a gentle rustle they fell from
+their parent trees, and lay in their faded beauty upon the earth.
+
+The little Aspen leaf lingered, but one day a soft, sweet zephyr came
+and gently released her, and she fluttered slowly down to the calm bosom
+of the little brook, who had, alas! seen many flowers bloom and die.
+
+Tenderly the stream bore it away to a grassy nook on its banks, and
+there it placed the tiny leaf, alone in its quiet rest.
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE EIGHTH.
+
+THE AMBITIOUS WILD-FLOWER--AMBITION.
+
+
+ 'Who'll buy my roses? they're lovely and fair,
+ They're Nature's own bloom, and are fed on fresh air.'
+
+
+So sang a little girl, as she walked along a shady lane, carrying a
+basket of those glorious flowers which she was taking to a friend as a
+birthday gift; and so on she went, singing her song of Roses, sweet
+Roses, little thinking that others were listening to her melody (besides
+the birds), or that her simple words would raise angry feelings in the
+very flowers themselves.
+
+'Oh yes!' exclaimed a small Wild-flower--its name I will not tell; 'oh
+yes!' she repeated, waiting until the singer was out of hearing; 'always
+Roses, or Violets, or Lilies--no one ever composes songs about--_us_--we
+are only common flowers.'
+
+'Don't say so,' interposed Pimpernel, 'because that is not true. There
+is a poem on a Daisy that will ever be remembered, and I have heard some
+children sing a pretty one about Buttercups and Daisies, besides.'
+
+'Oh, of course you uphold these song-makers, because your name has
+appeared in print,' she interrupted, with a toss of her bonnie petals;
+'but no one has ever noticed me.'
+
+'Nonsense!' said Ragged Robin, who, having been of a wandering
+disposition, had seen and heard a great deal in his time; 'why, there is
+one poet who says,--
+
+
+ "Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+ And waste its fragrance on the desert air."
+
+
+Therefore, if you are not mentioned by name, you certainly must be
+included among these unknowns who are born to blush unseen.'
+
+'I don't want to be included among these "unknowns" then,' exclaimed the
+Flower angrily. 'I am sure I am'--she hesitated a moment--'quite as
+lovely as a Rose, or any other garden beauty;' but she could not help
+hanging her head for very shame whilst uttering this piece of
+self-conceit.
+
+'Oh! oh! oh!' were the exclamations to be heard on all sides.
+
+'So I am,' she persisted, going on now in sheer desperation, having
+proceeded too far to retract. 'My petals are delicately fair, with just
+a faint rosy blush, my pistils and stamens of a tender yellow, and my
+form, if fragile, is very graceful--so there!'
+
+You may imagine the laughter that ensued as she ended with that emphatic
+'so there!' laughter which could not be suppressed, although she plainly
+showed her anger at their behaviour; they could not help it, so
+flower-bells shook and leaves fluttered with mirth, even Quaker grass
+quivered with merriment.
+
+'I would advise you to be more contented,' said a Honeysuckle, as she
+looked down upon the ambitious little Flower from her own elevated
+position; 'let me tell you it is not always those who are highest up in
+the world are the happiest; they feel the cold winds quite as keenly,
+perhaps more so.'
+
+'Ah, but I want to live in a conservatory or a greenhouse. I feel I am
+fitted for that position,' grumbled the other; 'in such a place I
+should be more seen, and consequently more admired and appreciated.'
+
+'What vanity!' sneered wild Vetch, who was somewhat ambitious also,
+seeing he tried to climb up as high as he could.
+
+An angry retort was on the lips of the one addressed, but Honeysuckle
+interposed, by saying kindly,--
+
+'Well, well, we shall see,--perhaps your position may be altered one
+day, and then you will be able to show us how you bear prosperity. Many
+flowers I have known transplanted to conservatories, thinking they would
+prove to be exotics, but I have heard that they generally withered in
+the heated atmosphere to which they were removed, and did not come to
+perfection when taken from their native soil.'
+
+'I am sure I should enjoy the change,' was the answer vouchsafed to this
+friendly warning. 'I know I am not in my proper sphere; such beauty as
+mine was never surely intended by Nature for a hedgerow.'
+
+'We shall see!' cried several Blossoms, who felt indignant at her
+contemptuous way of speaking. 'Your parents were no doubt'--
+
+'Exotics, I am convinced,' she said.
+
+'Then how came you here among such humble company?' asked merry Ragged
+Robin, who was fond of teasing.
+
+She deigned no reply, but looked him scornfully up and down, to his
+intense amusement.
+
+'Let her alone!' cried a sturdy Bramble; 'she will buy her experience
+with sighs and tears, I fear.'
+
+So, acting upon Bramble's advice, they did leave her alone to muse over
+her ambitious hopes and desires, whilst they, contented and happy with
+their lowly fate, opened their buds to the bright sunshine, which beams
+alike upon the high or humble.
+
+And very pretty looked that hedgerow on this same morning. The flowers
+were so lovely and fresh, for their gentle Mother Nature had washed
+their bonnie faces fresh with dew, and so they held their petals up to
+catch the sun's brightest rays, which came in golden gleams through the
+thickly-leaved hedges above them. What life could possibly be happier?
+There were the birds flying about, cheering them with merry twitterings,
+as they sped from tree to tree, or perched in the boughs overhead,
+warbling ever their songs of gladness. Then the bees would come, and
+ask them, in drowsy, murmuring voices, for just a sip of nectar from
+their cups, a boon which was never refused, and in return the busy
+little workers would leave them some pollen to colour their petals, and
+render them (if it were possible) more lovely than before. The
+butterflies, too, would alight on their leaves, and display their
+brilliant hues for their admiration, or the gay dragon-flies would fly
+about them in that wandering fashion peculiar to those gorgeous insects,
+darting hither and thither like flashes of rainbow light. At night the
+moonlight would kiss their weary eyes to sleep, whilst the soft
+night-breezes soothed them to rest with murmuring lullabies.
+
+It is true there were storms sometimes, and the cold rain would fall
+upon them; but still they were sheltered from all fierce tempests, and
+would rise up refreshed after the dark clouds had passed away, for they
+knew
+
+
+ 'Behind the clouds the sun's still shining.
+ * * * * *
+ Into each life some rain must fall,
+ Some days must be dark and dreary;'
+
+
+and as to the summer showers, why, they tossed their heads, and laughed
+merrily at them, shaking the light rain-drops from their petals in
+playful fun.
+
+But on this morning, when the tiny Wild-flower was making her life
+miserable by useless repinings at her humble lot, and sighing for--she
+knew not what!--well, on this same morning there was not a cloud to dim
+the sky, so brightly blue was it, and the soft west wind crept among the
+leaves and flowers, whispering to them the glad tidings of 'Summer is
+come!'
+
+I do not know how long it was after the little girl had passed, that a
+gentleman came sauntering slowly up the lane; and as he went, he would
+stop every now and then to examine the hedgerow flowers and shrubs. All
+at once he espied our friend, almost hidden though she was by the leaves
+and long grass around.
+
+'What a lovely little flower!' he exclaimed, as he stooped down to
+examine more closely his newly-found treasure; 'how delicate in colour,
+how sweet in perfume! Surely this was never intended to remain hidden in
+a hedge?'
+
+Oh, if you could but have seen how she tried to raise her pretty head,
+which Nature had bowed in simple loveliness, and endeavoured to look
+big, little thinking that her greatest charm lay in this sweet
+simplicity.
+
+'I must certainly transplant it to my greenhouse,' he went on saying.
+'With care and skill, who knows into what it may not develop!--an
+entirely new plant, I doubt not. I will at once take it home.'
+
+And away he went to procure the necessary tools for removing her from
+her lowly home to one more suited to her wishes.
+
+'Did I not tell you so!' was her delighted exclamation.
+
+'Well, I never!' ejaculated Pimpernel, whose pretty eyes were now opened
+wide in astonishment.
+
+'Better to be born lucky than rich,' muttered Ragged Robin.
+
+'Shall I not be grand in a conservatory?' cried the ambitious Flower.
+
+'I would rather
+
+
+ "Adorn the rustic stibble-field,
+ Unseen, alane,"'
+
+
+murmured meek Daisy.
+
+'Ah, you have no ambition!' sneered the other; 'besides, "the rustic
+stibble-field" is your proper sphere--it is not mine!'
+
+'Pride, pride!' rebuked Honeysuckle, gazing sorrowfully down upon the
+arrogant little speaker. 'Take care that you sigh not yet for your old
+home and humble friends.'
+
+'Indeed I shall not!' she retorted insolently.
+
+'Wait, wait!' continued sturdy Bramble; ''tis the time of flowers
+now--wait till the fruit-time comes.'
+
+'I do not know what you mean,' she retorted angrily; 'nor do I'--
+
+'That there is a time for all things,' explained Shepherd's Clock,
+interrupting her.
+
+'I trust your high hopes will be realized,' said Speedwell kindly.
+
+How much longer this wrangling would have continued it is impossible to
+say, for at that moment the gentleman returned with a trowel, spade, and
+basket, and proceeded to remove her from her native soil. In justice to
+her, it must be confessed that, when the moment came to part for ever
+from all her old friends, and the surroundings to which, in spite of her
+incessant murmurs, she felt attached, she clung desperately with her
+slender, fibrous roots to the familiar spot where from a seedling she
+had lived and grown--yes, clung desperately! But with the utmost care
+every tender fibre was released, and she was placed in the basket and
+carried away. Was she glad now? No, far from it--wishing again and again
+that she had been left alone.
+
+However, it was too late. She had always complained of not being in her
+proper position, and now the glorious change was come; she was being
+taken to where her hopes had aspired,--a conservatory or a greenhouse,
+it mattered not which.
+
+After a while, with the usual indifference of such natures, her regrets
+subsided, giving place to thoughts respecting the place in which she was
+destined to live.
+
+'Of course I shall be welcomed by all the nobler flowers with delight
+and astonishment,' she mused; 'delight because of my agreeable manners,
+and astonishment at my beauty! How I wish my old hedgerow friends could
+but be present to witness my reception!'
+
+But this reception, upon which she built such bright fancies, was
+delayed for some few days, for, on arriving at her destination, she was
+carried into a dingy shed, not into the splendid glass palace her
+visions had conjured up.
+
+'Is this the place to which I am destined?' she muttered complainingly.
+'Oh dear! no one will see me here. I wish I had remained in the lane,
+for there was a chance of my being admired by some passer-by. What is
+the use of my ambitious hopes, if this is to be the end of them?'
+
+Fortunately there was no flower or even a plant near to be wearied with
+her repinings, so on she grumbled, until at last her misery reached its
+climax, when she was taken and pressed tightly into a horrible
+flower-pot, then carefully watered, and afterwards put into a dark
+corner to take root. Had she been capable of shedding tears, no water
+would have been required, such as was given to revive her; for the
+sorrow she felt was almost too great to be borne. Here was a life to
+lead after all her high aspirations, and her slender roots, too, were so
+cramped and squeezed it was something dreadful! Oh for the once despised
+hedgerow, with the soft, cool earth, in which she could stretch her
+delicate fibres!
+
+But wait, impatient little flower! other days are coming.
+
+One morning--at least so it proved to be, though at the time she did not
+know it, as in her dark dwelling she saw neither sunrise nor
+sunset--well, this morning of which we speak, to her intense delight,
+the gentleman came and carried her out into the open air, and surveyed
+her critically.
+
+'Yes,' she heard him say, and how her heart bounded with pride, 'it is
+indeed a lovely flower, and may well take its place among those in the
+conservatory, for it is really exquisite.'
+
+Here was a triumph! this was the hour to which she had so long looked
+forward.
+
+'At last, at last!' she murmured. 'Oh, if my old acquaintances could but
+see me now, what would they say? I wish some of them were here.'
+
+Not satisfied even yet! You see there is always an alloy in our greatest
+earthly pleasures or triumphs--always a something wanting. Yet so
+completely bewildered was she by this excess of gratified pride, that
+she knew not whither she was borne, until, when the delirium, for such
+it was, had passed, she found herself in a place which her wildest
+imaginings never could have supposed possible--a wondrous glass palace,
+filled with the most gorgeous flowers of all tints and forms, some
+deliciously perfumed, making the air fragrant; whilst in the centre of
+this palace a fountain rose and fell with soothing murmurs, scattering
+its silvery spray upon exquisite blossoms that floated in the marble
+basin. It was almost too lovely, and our little wayside friend sighed
+with a sense of overpowering astonishment at the wondrous beauties
+around, beauties that dazzled her unaccustomed eyes. Her place, however,
+was upon one of the lower shelves, and above her head waved the feathery
+leaves of tropical plants, which throve wonderfully well in the heated
+atmosphere of this (to her) paradise.
+
+Then she was left alone with her new associates--alone! how much that
+word conveys!
+
+After some time the other flowers became aware of a stranger having come
+among them, and a flutter (as much as such well-bred creatures deigned
+to evince) stirred their leaves and petals.
+
+'What is she like?' asked a Maidenhair Fern, who from her position could
+get not even a glimpse of the new arrival.
+
+'Is she elegant and refined?' inquired a Camellia languidly.
+
+'Is she fair or dark?' questioned Tea-Rose, with a faint breath.
+
+'It matters not to me what she is,' murmured Ice-Plant coldly.
+
+'Where does she come from?' whispered Myrtle to her neighbour Cape
+Jasmine.
+
+'From a hedgerow,' was the reply, but uttered so that all around her
+heard the answer.
+
+'Only a Wild-flower!' was the general exclamation. 'What presumption to
+come amongst us!'
+
+Then a chilling silence fell upon them all, except when they spoke to
+each other; but, after that unlucky explanation of her origin, it was as
+though they ignored her very existence--she was with them, still not of
+them.
+
+And, strange to say, our little friend, who was so ready with words
+among her compeers, was completely silenced by these disdainful
+beauties, and, instead of replying, and holding, or rather maintaining,
+her position there, she shrank, as it were, abashed and ashamed of her
+lowly origin.
+
+Was this the triumphant reception she had expected? Where was the homage
+her beauty was supposed to exact, and where the admiration of her
+manners and elegance generally? Ah me! she was only a little wayside
+blossom after all, pretty, it is true, and suited to the quiet hedgerow,
+but without the merits or the talents to raise her to a higher place.
+Better far the humble friends, the lowly mossy bank where she had grown
+in peace and rest (save for her own unquiet ambition), than the grandeur
+and contempt which now were hers.
+
+So day after day passed on, and the florist who had brought her from the
+shady lane, hoping he had discovered a lovely and rare flower, saw with
+regret that his treasure was fading; the heated atmosphere of this
+splendid conservatory was too great for her to bear, and she was pining
+away for the fresh air and freedom of her old home; but, above all, she
+longed for the kindly if rough sympathy of her humble friends; the cold
+society of these exotics was gradually yet slowly killing her! In vain
+was the owner's care lavished upon her--it would not do; the delicate
+petals shrank up witheringly, the slender green leaves became shrivelled
+and dying, so in kindness he took her from the gorgeous palace, which
+she quitted gladly, without one sigh of regret, and carried her back to
+the shady lane, the once despised hedgerow, and carefully placed her in
+the very spot from which she had been taken.
+
+It was the home for her!
+
+Sadly she turned her dim eyes to the old friends around, who gazed upon
+the sorrow-stricken Flower pityingly and without reproach.
+
+'I have returned to die,' she murmured. 'Ambition which has pure and
+holy aspirations is laudable in all; but I mistook pride for that which
+is more noble, and I am punished. Do not blame me,' she pleaded
+piteously, 'but give me your pity, and when I am gone, think with
+tenderness upon the poor little Wild-flower who knew, when too late,
+that her place was best and happiest when among the humble blossoms by
+the peaceful hedgerow!'
+
+
+
+
+PARABLE NINTH.
+
+THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BUTTERFLY--HUMILITY AND PRIDE.
+
+
+One early spring day, a little shoot of Honeysuckle was putting forth
+its tendrils low down on the ground at the foot of a quickset hedge. As
+yet it was but a weakly sprig, not knowing its own strength, nor even
+dreaming that it would ever rise far above the earth. Yet still it was
+very contented, drawing happiness from its lowly surroundings, happy in
+living, and feeling the warm sunshine kissing its fragile leaves.
+
+Close by, there was a strange, dark, oblong mass, and the little
+Honeysuckle tried to imagine what it could possibly be, for it never
+moved, nor evinced emotion of any kind; and yet it was alive, because
+people would take it up, examine it, then put it down again, saying,--
+
+'It is only a common Chrysalis!' But what _that_ was the Honeysuckle
+knew not.
+
+At last, one day, when the sun was shining very brightly indeed, and the
+air was warm, and filled with the sweet breath of spring, to her great
+surprise she saw this peculiar object move, then by degrees the dark
+brown casing was cast aside, and she saw that it had wings!
+
+'Why, what are you?' she questioned, in utter amazement at this
+marvellous transformation.
+
+'Me!' he replied. 'Oh, I am a Butterfly, and you will see that very soon
+I shall become most lovely, such gloriously tinted feathers will deck my
+wings, all the world will be lost in admiration, I shall be so
+beautiful!'
+
+'And will you let me see you then?' the meek little flower asked humbly.
+
+'Oh yes! certainly you shall gaze upon me,' he answered, with a mighty
+air of condescension.
+
+'But will you not always remain here?' she questioned, pleased at the
+idea of having so charming a neighbour.
+
+'Dear me, no! I should think not, indeed. Why, I shall fly far away
+from this humble neighbourhood!' was his exclamation.
+
+'What! and leave me?'
+
+'Certainly! what else could you expect?' he replied. 'My ambition could
+not endure such a humdrum existence as yours; with these gay-coloured
+wings of mine I shall soar to higher realms, and be courted and caressed
+where'er I go!'
+
+'Oh that I had wings like yours, or that you clung to earth!' sighed the
+tender-hearted Honeysuckle, who, from having been so long in close
+companionship with the dark, unsociable Chrysalis had actually grown to
+like him.
+
+'Nonsense! what a ridiculous wish!' exclaimed the gaudy insect, who did
+not share his little friend's feeling of regard. 'Why, I should die if I
+were rooted to one place! I require a large sphere in which to move
+about; while as to you--I doubt if ever you will rise higher in the
+world than you are now.'
+
+Not a kind remark to make, certainly, and it sadly grieved the humble
+flower to hear the Butterfly thus speak.
+
+'And yet,' she sorrowfully mused, 'perhaps he is right; I know I am but
+a little green plant, very small, and very lowly, whilst he is so noble
+and beautiful with his gorgeous wings. Still, it is heart-rending to
+think I shall never rise above the sordid earth, always remain a mere
+groundling! But never mind,' she added more cheerfully; 'even
+groundlings can do good sometimes, so I'll take courage, and hope for
+the best.'
+
+Not many days after this, the Butterfly called out joyfully to his
+little admirer,--
+
+'Good-bye! good-bye! See! I have acquired my full beauty, so now I am
+off to entrance the world with my perfect loveliness! I _think_ I am an
+Emperor, though I am not quite sure; but there! people will soon
+appreciate me, and, of course, will acknowledge my claims to
+admiration.'
+
+'And are you really going?' she asked sadly.
+
+'Yes, of course! I am perfect now, and could not possibly stay _here_
+any longer;' looking round contemptuously upon his humble surroundings.
+'But I'll come and see you again, perhaps; _you_ are sure to be found in
+the same place!'
+
+And away he flew with a mocking laugh; his gay wings fluttered merrily
+in the sunshine as he poised above the gorgeous garden flowers a while,
+then he sped away into distance, and was lost to sight, whilst the
+little Honeysuckle felt very lonely as she watched him disappear.
+
+'Oh dear me!' she sighed; 'I feel rather sad now he has gone. It
+certainly must be very nice to rise a little in the world, not to be'--
+
+'Take hold of my hand, my dear,' said a kind Bramble, who happened to
+hear the flower lament her lowly fate. 'I may perhaps be able to give
+you a lift up.'
+
+'Oh, thank you very much,' was the response; 'but I fear your kindness
+would be thrown away, for I do not think I shall ever be more than I am
+at present.'
+
+'One can never know, until he has tried, what may be done,' was the
+encouraging rejoinder. 'Look at me, for example! I am only what is
+called a Bramble, very much despised by some folks, no doubt; but then,
+who despises the fruit I bear? Why, every one likes the hardy
+blackberry, and I believe "by your fruit ye are known."'
+
+'But I shall never yield fruit,' the Honeysuckle exclaimed; 'and as to
+flowers'--
+
+'You are as yet only a green sprig of something--what I know not,'
+interrupted the Bramble sharply. 'But courage, child; take fast hold of
+me. I am rough but trusty; so take my hand.'
+
+'I fear to climb!' cried the other timidly.
+
+'Nonsense, child! nothing is done without an effort. Only, when once you
+have secured a chance, hold it fast,' was the caution given.
+
+So she ventured to put forth a tender green tendril and clasp her kind
+friend's helping hand, which, if rough and thorny, was certainly honest
+and true.
+
+It is very seldom in this world that the humble and shrinking find
+friends ready and willing to raise them from the ground; for there is
+such a rush and scramble to reach the temples of 'Fame' and of 'Mammon,'
+that each one elbows the other in the crowd. Some of the weaker ones get
+sadly pushed to the wall, others are trampled under foot, and it is only
+the very boldest and most daring of the throng who ever reach the
+desired goal.
+
+But amongst the flowers it is not so; for how many of the weak ones
+cling for support to others, and, through their tender care, gain
+strength and beauty. And this was the case with the Honeysuckle; she
+felt so secure resting on that strong, protecting arm, that by degrees
+she began to gain courage, and to feel her own power. The Bramble, too,
+perceiving she was something more than a mere 'little green sprig of
+something,' kindly encouraged her to persevere in her upward course. So
+she clambered up higher and higher; the delicate green tendrils became
+firmer and stronger, and at length, after much painful toiling and many
+a disappointment, she reached the highest summit of her hopes--the top
+of a quickset hedge!
+
+'Oh, how can I thank you all!' she joyfully cried, when from her lofty
+position she gazed around on beautiful scenes undreamt of ere this, and
+then looked back upon the toilsome path she had travelled, and beheld
+the many kind friends who had helped her on her way, each one of whom
+was now rejoicing in her success; 'and you, dear Bramble, my first
+generous guide'--
+
+'We are all very pleased to see that at last you have succeeded in your
+efforts, my dear,' interrupted that sturdy friend; 'and, what is more,
+we do not fear you will prove ungrateful, you are sure to remember us.'
+
+'Indeed, indeed I ever shall!' cried the happy little flower. 'Can I
+ever forget those who loved me when I was poor and lowly? that would be
+cruel and unkind.'
+
+And so it proved; for, as the summer grew warmer, and her lovely
+blossoms opened to the bright sunshine, she in her gratitude showered
+them over those dear ones who had helped her in the days of her poverty;
+and the fragrant blossoms thus spread over the hedge and the bramble
+enhanced their beauty, and rendered them still more lovely in the eyes
+of the passers-by.
+
+'Dear me!' exclaimed the Butterfly, as one very hot day he alighted to
+rest upon one of the Honeysuckle's leaves. 'Dear me!' he repeated,
+surveying her critically; 'why, really I did not know you again. How did
+you contrive to get so high up in the world?'
+
+'Kind hearts, loving hands, helped me,' was the simple answer given.
+
+'Oh, indeed!' he curtly said. 'Well, I owe gratitude to no one. I
+suppose you will not get any higher?' he questioned, after a pause.
+
+'No,' she replied, with her usual humility; 'and even if I could, I
+would not wish it; for, living as I do amongst all who are dear to me, I
+have no higher ambition.'
+
+'You were always a faint-hearted thing,' exclaimed the insect, quite
+forgetting even to be commonly polite, so elated was he with pride.
+'Just compare the difference in our lives! I fly here, I fly there, now
+on this flower, now on that. Ah, mine is a glorious life! nothing but
+pleasure and excitement all the livelong day. Confess, now, would you
+not like to be me?'
+
+'No,' she answered, with the utmost sincerity; 'I am so happy here, I
+would not change my lot even for a career so brilliant as yours.'
+
+'What a taste!' he exclaimed, with scornful pity; 'no wonder you remain
+a hedge-flower! Why, poets write about us, and there is actually a song
+called "I'd be a Butterfly." Only think of that!' he exultantly cried.
+
+'What! and have a pin stuck through one's head, and to be suffocated
+with camphor, merely for the sake of being placed in a glass-case for
+people to stare at!' ejaculated Spleenwort, with a dash of malice in his
+tone.
+
+'Don't talk of such things, you common flower!' the insect angrily
+exclaimed. 'I'll not stay here any longer to listen to such vulgarity. I
+prefer more refined society!'
+
+And away he flew, evidently very much disturbed in his mind by what
+Spleenwort had remarked as occurring to butterflies in general, although
+he would not acknowledge that it was so, even to himself, but tried to
+banish the thought by indulging more freely in what he considered
+pleasure. You see--poor, giddy flutterer--he did not like to hear the
+plain truth spoken; flattery would have pleased him better, yet truth,
+though sometimes bitter, is a wholesome tonic when taken properly.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The summer days sped fast, for Father Time's scythe is never idle, and
+he was gradually, though slowly, mowing down the flowers which had
+garlanded the sunny hours. The leaves once so green were changing now,
+assuming their glowing autumn tints, whilst some would fall fluttering
+to the ground with a gentle sigh of weariness, as the cold winds were
+rustling by. Then the stern northern gale came sweeping along,
+proclaiming to the forest trees that winter was on her way; and a
+shudder would pass through their sturdy branches when they heard the
+tidings, for they feared her chill, icy breath.
+
+The bees took refuge in their well-stored hives, the ants had barred
+their outer doors, and retired to their most secluded apartments; even
+the garden spider was sheltered in his home--only the once gay butterfly
+was homeless and friendless.
+
+'Shelter me, shelter me, dear Honeysuckle,' moaned the shivering insect,
+coming back to the old home in the day of his sorrow. 'I am so cold, so
+weary!'
+
+'Poor thing!' the tender flower exclaimed, with the utmost pity,
+forgetting now all former slights. 'Creep under my leaves, perhaps they
+may shield you. But your beautiful wings, how came they so torn and
+colourless?'
+
+'The pitiless storm last night fell upon me and crushed me to the earth
+in its fury,' he answered, with difficulty, for he was so feeble. ''Tis
+true the gleams of sunshine to-day have revived me a little; but alas! I
+am dying! my brief day is over, and there is no one to give me a refuge
+save you!'
+
+'Where are your gay friends?' she asked,'those with whom you sported
+throughout the livelong summer hours?'
+
+'Gone far from me,' he answered bitterly; 'they were but friends of the
+fleeting sunshine, and I in the day of my power thought but of myself,
+and now--I am left alone to die!'
+
+The Honeysuckle was deeply moved; she remembered no more his haughty
+pride, she only saw that _now_ he was ill and in sorrow; so she placed
+her clinging tendrils gently around him, trying thus to keep the poor
+Butterfly under the shelter of her protecting leaves.
+
+Night came stealing on, folding her sable curtains over the earth; and
+it was a wild night, for not a star shone in the skies, all was dark and
+dreary, for the Storm King was abroad in all his mighty strength. The
+fierce gales came with terrific power, tossing the lordly ships as they
+nobly braved its fury, but causing, oh, so many loving hearts to
+fervently pray 'for those at sea.' No wonder, then, that when the cold
+grey dawn awoke the early flowers, they saw the poor crushed Butterfly
+lying dead! close beside the little Honeysuckle, whose trustful, meek
+heart he had once so cruelly derided.
+
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