XX.
THE SEEDS.
They lay side by side one morning, while the gardener was preparing the ground in which to plant them and many other varieties.
"Just think," said the more talkative one of the two, "how sad it is that we are going to be put in that dismal ground! I shall not allow myself to be buried out of sight this lovely morning."
"But," answered the more quiet seed by her side, "it is only for a brief period that we shall lie there, and then we shall be far more beautiful."
"What care I for beauty for others to look at? I want my freedom, and intend to have it, too. The wind is my friend, and I shall ask her to waft me over to those lovely hills, where I can see something of the world."
"I think it would be wiser to remain where we are, and let the gardener care for us: he must know what is for our good," remarked the gentle seed.
"You are too prosy by far. I think our own feelings tell us what we need. So good-by," exclaimed the self-reliant seed, as she motioned to the wind to bear her away.
She thought her breath was leaving her, as she was borne through the air, and wished she were back in the garden. But when she found herself on the warm hill-side she felt rea.s.sured, and nestled herself amid the soft gra.s.s, whose waving motion soon lulled her to sleep.
Now the two seeds which the gardener had laid on the ground were of a very choice and rare kind; and he felt very sad that the wind should have blown one away. He took the remaining one and laid it carefully in the ground, with many hopes that it would spring up and bear rich blossoms, which would yield more seed. That night a cold wind came on; but the little seed in the warm bed did not feel it at all, while her absent sister shook all night with the cold.
After what seemed a long time to the seed in the ground, something like a new life came over her. There was a deeper pulsation through her being, and a strong desire to shoot upward to the light and air. This feeling deepened every hour.
"At this rate I shall soon be in the air, where I can see all that is going on about me," she said joyfully. Then she felt very quiet, and fell asleep. When she awoke she saw the gardener bending over her with a joyful face. "When did this happen? How came I up here in the warm sunlight?" the seed exclaimed to him.
"Because the wind did not bear you away, and I could put you in the ground, is the reason why you are here. First out of sight, then to the light, my little seed! But," he said sorrowfully, "I wish we had the other one, for your kind is rare."
The plant then told the gardener that her sister purposely went away, at which he wondered that she had power of motion until she became a plant.
"Oh, she asked the wind to carry her," answered the fresh-growing plant.
"If I knew where she had gone I"d search for her, and bring her back."
"She asked the wind to take her to yonder hill-side," said the plant, hoping, oh, so much! that he would go and find the seed, and plant it beside her, that she, too, might have the pleasure of becoming a plant as beautiful as herself.
The gardener went towards the hills; but the seed saw him, and begged the south wind to bear her away. And she took her on her wing and wafted her many miles from home.
The gardener searched a long time, and was obliged to return without her. So he took extra care of the plant, and it grew to be the pride of the garden; while the seed that had her own way was roaming over the world. The truant one soon lost all her influence over the winds, who finally refused to carry about a good-for-nothing seed while they had so much needful work to perform. A cold northern blast was the last one she could persuade to bear her, and he dropped her on a rock, where she at last perished from exposure to the rain and cold.
The day before her death, a company of people pa.s.sed by her, bearing in their hands some rare and fragrant blossoms, to which she felt a strange attraction. This gave place to a deep thrill of sorrow as she heard them describe the lovely plant which grew in a beautiful garden, and which by their description she knew was her own home, which she in her folly had left.
"Had I but accepted the conditions of growth, I too might have been a lovely plant, giving and receiving pleasure," she said, after the people had pa.s.sed on. "But now, alas!" and her breath grew quick and short, "if I had only some one to profit by my last words, telling of my life of folly, I might not have lived wholly in vain." But there was nothing about her which she could discern save a tuft of moss upon the cold, hard rock which must now be her death-bed.
But behind the rock, on the south side, there was growing a family of wild daisies, who were going to migrate to a warmer part of the country to plant their seeds before the winter came on. This was one of the conditions which Providence ever has around the most seemingly deserted and desolate, that her words might not only profit them, but that they could convey the benefit of them to all wayward seeds who were unwilling to accept the natural conditions of growth. And thus the seed, though dying with its mission unfulfilled, did not live wholly in vain; for its wasted life saved others from a similar fate.
XXI.
ONLY GOLD.
A parent sent his children forth one day into a fertile land to gather fruits, flowers, and whatever was beautiful to adorn their homes. They wandered till nightfall, gathering their treasures, while their joyous laughter filled the air, and made music to the listening laborers in the fields.
Just as the shadows of evening came on they approached an open field: it was barren of verdure, but the ground was covered with golden stones, which glittered strangely in the setting sun. They gathered as many as they could with their other treasures, and then all but one of the group began to prepare for home, while he lingered, eager to gather the shining pebbles.
"We must return," they all said in chorus to him. They disliked to leave without him; but darkness was fast coming on, and they must obey their parents" command and return before the shades of evening had covered the earth. One voice after another died away on the air as they pleaded vainly for him to go with them, but he heeded them not: the golden stones were far more precious in his eyes than kindred, home, or friends; and they departed sorrowfully without him, while he remained and added stone to stone, till he was obliged at last, from exhaustion, to lie down on the damp ground.
It was not like his warm bed in his pleasant home; and he missed the cheerful voices of his brothers, and more than all his parents" fond goodnight, after the evening prayer. He slept; but his dreams were wild and feverish, and there was no atmosphere of love about him to soothe the weary brain.
The next day at noon his parents sent a messenger to him, bidding him return. But the love of his golden stones was paramount to the wishes of kindred, and the unnumbered comforts of a happy home; and his reply to the messenger was, "I will return, when I have enough of these," pointing to a large collection which was already higher than his head. At nightfall hunger seized him. He felt too weary to go in search of food, but the demand of nature a.s.serted its claim, and he dragged himself to a field near by, where grew berries and fruits in abundance. His spirits rose after the cravings of hunger were satisfied, and he lay down again by his precious pile of stones.
The days glided into weeks, and still he fed upon the berries and gathered the golden pebbles. His father had ceased to send messengers to him, knowing that nothing but a long experience would teach his child the value of life"s many blessings, and that gold _alone_ has no power to bless us. The father suffered much in knowing and realizing that his son must learn the truths of life through such severe lessons; but wisdom told him it could not be otherwise.
The chill air of autumn came, and no longer could the fruits and berries ripen for him. He saw some laborers one day in a field near by, eating their meal which they had brought from their homes. Oh; what would he not now give for some of their meat and bread! "I will go to them," he said, "and offer some of my golden stores in exchange for just a few morsels."
He did so; and they only smiled at his offer, saying, "What would then refresh and fit us for the rest of our day"s labor? Surely your gold would not."
"But it would help you to buy more," he replied.
"Yes, to-morrow: but we cannot spare a morsel to-day, for we need all our supply to strengthen us for our work."
He turned away in deep thought. Was he not losing all of life"s joys and comforts in living thus alone only to ama.s.s such quant.i.ties of gold?
But as he looked again on the shining treasures his ambition arose with increased power; and he forgot, for a time, his hunger in his toil. Then a new thought came to him. "Now that the fruits are gone I can go to the forest and gather nuts. They will be better food, too, for these chilly autumn days. Surely I am provided for, at least till winter," and he left his labor and repaired to the woods, where he feasted and gathered enough for many days.
The household mourned much for their absent brother. They missed him in their daily joys, and every hour they watched, waited, and hoped to see him return. They almost rejoiced when the bleak winds of autumn swept the foliage from the trees, because they could look farther down the road for their brother.
"I shall soon be able to travel and see the world," said the youth to himself every day as the pile of gold grew higher; but, alas for human calculation! he awoke one morning to find his huge mountain of gold one solid ma.s.s. The action of the light, heat, and atmosphere had fused them together, and no exertion of his could break off even the smallest atom.
Must he return with not even one golden pebble? for he had gathered them all--not one was in sight, no more were to be found.
His golden dream of travel was over, and, worse, the freshness and buoyancy of youth had departed. His limbs, alas! were stiff and sore.
He had a mountain of gold, not one atom of which he could use for himself or others. And now he must return to his father"s house empty-handed, and void of truths or incidents to relate to his brothers.
But some kind angel led him home, where his blessings were yet in store, awaiting his return. One evening when the shadows crept over the earth, he walked up the well-known path. The brothers had long before ceased to watch for his coming; and great was their surprise to see him again among them, although not the brother of that happy, sunny day of long ago. He told them sadly of the result of his long toil, while they related to him the good results of their few golden pebbles, which they brought home, and with which their father had purchased land, which was now yielding them rich returns, aside from the health and pleasure which they derived from its culture, the labor of which they performed with their own hands. "Health, wealth, and happiness combined,"
he murmured sadly, as he felt keenly that his youth and opportunities had departed.
Are there not too many who seek for gold alone, forgetting the joys which it purchases, and forgetting that its possession alone has no value? Rightly acquired and used it alleviates and mediates, but gathered and ama.s.sed for itself only it is but a mountain of shining ore, valueless and unsatisfying to its possessor.
"Fool that I have been thus to waste my time and strength!" said the long-absent son that night as his father bade him welcome.
"If wisdom is purchased by the experience, it matters not how great the price," answered his parent.
"But I have lost my youth and my strength," responded the son.