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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:35:59 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:35:59 -0700 |
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diff --git a/27718-h/27718-h.htm b/27718-h/27718-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cba368d --- /dev/null +++ b/27718-h/27718-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4092 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <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 */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 15%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 3em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +hr.hr2 { + width: 10%; + margin-top: 2.5em; + margin-bottom: 2.5em; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: #C0C0C0; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-align: center;} + +.caption {font-variant: small-caps; text-align: center; margin-top: 1px;} + +.image {text-align: center;} + +.block {margin: auto; text-align: center; width: 31%;} + +.poem { + margin: 2em; + text-align: left; + font-size: 96% +} + +.poem span.i0 {margin-left: 0em;} + +.poem span.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + +h2.chapter {font-size: 145%; padding-bottom: 0.75em;} + +h3.chapter2 {font-size: 125%; font-variant: small-caps; padding-bottom: 1em;} + +.sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.upper {text-transform: uppercase;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +.minispace {margin-bottom: 1em;} + +.microspace {margin-bottom: .5em;} + +.nanospace {padding-bottom: .25em;} + +.border2 { + border-style: solid; + border-width: 2px; + background: #FFFFFF; + border-color: #000000; + margin: auto; +} + +.illodrop {float: left;} + +.gesperrt {letter-spacing: .150em; font-weight: normal; margin-right: -.150em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<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"> </div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<h1>PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.</h1> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="image"><img src="images/icover.jpg" width="309" height="480" alt="Book cover" title="" /></div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </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"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<hr /> + +<h1><span class="gesperrt">PARABLES</span><br /> +<span class="gesperrt">FROM FLOWERS</span>.</h1> +<div class="minispace"> </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"> </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"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </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, & 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"> </div> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<hr style="width: 7%; margin-top: .5em;" /> +<div class="minispace"> </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—FIDELITY</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_FIRST">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>THE SNOWDROP—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—HUMILITY AND PRIDE</td><td align='right'><a href="#PARABLE_NINTH">115</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr /> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="image"> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<img src="images/i007089.png" width="550" height="138" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<h2>PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.</h2> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_FIRST" id="PARABLE_FIRST"></a>PARABLE FIRST.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE FORGET-ME-NOT—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—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,—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—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—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—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,—</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—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—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,—</p> + +<p>'Little Jenny Wren, I have!'</p> + +<p>'Where—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—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—think—think—see—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—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,—</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,—</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,—</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—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—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—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,—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.</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,—</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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_SECOND" id="PARABLE_SECOND"></a>PARABLE SECOND.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter3">THE SNOWDROP—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—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?—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—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—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—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,—</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,—</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—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,—'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.'</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Yes, faith—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—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"> </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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_THIRD" id="PARABLE_THIRD"></a>PARABLE THIRD.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE FOXGLOVES' STRATAGEM—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—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<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—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,—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<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,—</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,'—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,—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'—</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,—</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'—</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,—</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—what a sweet name, +to be sure!' he added in a fawning voice,—'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—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—<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—</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"> </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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_FOURTH" id="PARABLE_FOURTH"></a>PARABLE FOURTH.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE LITTLE MINER AND HIS FLOWER—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!—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—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,—</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,—</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!—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,—</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,—</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!—no—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—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!—he clenched his small hands together, and +choked back the big lump rising in his throat as +bravely he exclaimed,—</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!—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,—</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—there is no midway for the ardent +young.</p> + +<p>The manager smiled at his enthusiasm, as he +replied,—</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,'—and the boy paused,—'shall I earn +wages like I do now? because'—</p> + +<p>And his voice failed him, he could not utter +the thought of his heart,—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,—</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—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,—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.'</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,—</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—</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—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,—</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,—</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>—</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'—</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,—and <i>we</i> 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.'</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'—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.'</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"> </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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_FIFTH" id="PARABLE_FIFTH"></a>PARABLE FIFTH.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE LITTLE SEED—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—of +some sort!'</p> + +<p>'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 <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—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,—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!—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;—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,—</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—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—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<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!—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—a Sparrow—came flying towards +him, exclaiming,—</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—how should she?—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—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—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.</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—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,—</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—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<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"> </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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_SIXTH" id="PARABLE_SIXTH"></a>PARABLE SIXTH.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE CROWN IMPERIAL—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:—</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—for the old dry tree +has a tender heart, my children—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—like +good actions and gentle words—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—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—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—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.</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,—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.</p> + +<p>'Then, and not till then, did it raise its faint +eyes heavenward—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—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—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<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—for +God Himself shall wipe away all tears!"'</p> +<div class="minispace"> </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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_SEVENTH" id="PARABLE_SEVENTH"></a>PARABLE SEVENTH.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE TWO LEAVES—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—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!—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—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?—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—whilst we—ah me!—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,—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,—</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—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.'</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—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"> </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"> </div> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_EIGHTH" id="PARABLE_EIGHTH"></a>PARABLE EIGHTH.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE AMBITIOUS WILD-FLOWER—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—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—<i>us</i>—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,—</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'—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.<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—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,—</p> + +<p>'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.'</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>—</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—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!'</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!—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—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—wait till the fruit-time +comes.'</p> + +<p>'I do not know what you mean,' she retorted +angrily; 'nor do I'—</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—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,—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—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—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—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<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—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—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—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"> </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"> </div> +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="PARABLE_NINTH" id="PARABLE_NINTH"></a>PARABLE NINTH.</h2> + +<h3 class="chapter2">THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BUTTERFLY—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,—</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—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,—</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'—</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'—</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> +—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—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'—</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—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.</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—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—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"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h4>PRINTED BY<br /> +MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED<br /> +EDINBURGH</h4> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="image"><img src="images/ispine.jpg" width="600" height="66" alt="Book spine" title="" /></div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Parables from Flowers, by Gertrude P. 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