Part 10

* * * * *

What may be lawful for others who are living under different conditions from ourselves, affords us no excuse for ever departing from the strict course of mercy and justice.

THE SERVANT’S MONEY.

A CERTAIN king sent a message to one of his servants who lived in a distant part of his kingdom, bidding the servant come to him, and promising that henceforth all his wants should be supplied in the king’s palace.

The servant, overjoyed at the message, prepared at once to obey it; but, being a poor man who through long years of saving and pinching had come to set great store by small possessions, it went very hard with him to leave behind such things as he could call his own—the little house he lived in, with the plot of ground around it, and the few rude implements with which he tilled the soil. As it was impossible, however, to take them with him, he sold them for what he could get (which was not much); and then, packing up his clothes in divers parcels and hiding his little store of money among them, he started on his journey.

The first part of this, which led through well-tilled fields and among people whom he knew, was very pleasant. Many who were his friends came out, as he passed by, to meet him, begging him to stop and rest a while in their houses. And when it happened to be toward evening, he went in and supped and lodged with them.

But after leaving this part of the country he came to a bleak and lonely region abounding in rocks and caves. Here, as he was pressing on, hoping to get through it safely, some robbers rushed out from their hiding-place upon him. Hastily looking through the bundles with which he was loaded, and finding they were made up of old worn-out clothes, they refused to take them. But, in making the search, they spied his money, and, seizing it, quickly disappeared.

When the poor man saw them hurrying away with his treasure—which, small as it was, represented his lifelong labors—his grief overcame him, and he sat down and wept. But, presently recovering himself, he said:

“Shall I stay here crying in this wilderness, when I am sent for by the king?”

Then he rose up from the ground, and pursued his way without further interruption, though with a heavy heart and faltering step, until he came to the gates of the king’s palace. There he found many others assembled from different parts of the kingdom, who had also come at the king’s command—some of them poor like himself, some rich; and they all waited for the day when the gates should open.

But while they were waiting for this what was his surprise to see the poor draw forth their pence, and the rich their silver and gold, and throw them away! For they had been told they would have no need of them within the gates, and that until they had parted with them they could not enter. So they all cast their money from them, whether it was little or much, and it lay scattered over the ground, with none to gather it. Neither was the servant any poorer than the richest of them, though he had been robbed of all. Then he said to himself, “How foolish was I to set such store by, and grieve so much after, what was of no real value!”

And after that, with nothing except the garments that they wore (and even these had been given them), he and all who waited with him entered joyfully into the palace-gates.

* * * * *

It is of little account what we lose by the way if we keep that which alone has any value at the end of our journey.

FUTURE GREATNESS.

TWO young colts, each by the side of its mother, were at pasture in adjoining fields. The mother of one, coming to the dividing fence, and putting her head over it, said to her neighbor:

“Just look at the color of my colt! Was there ever a lovelier bay? Before another spring has passed over his head I expect to see him in the stable of some millionaire. You know what a rage there is among rich men for fast horses. Now, look at the points in my colt—his long, clean limbs, his deer-like shape, his full eye and broad nostril. I am as certain of his speed as if he had just been around the track and I heard the time-keeper calling out:

“‘Two minutes ten and a half seconds!’”

“I have been looking at your colt,” replied the other, “and admit he promises well; but what do you think of the little roan on this side the fence? Now, I wouldn’t care to have him in a millionaire’s stable, or put him there, if I could, by a wish. Those rich men think of nobody but themselves, and keep fine horses only to swell their own importance. Then they are speculators, to a man; there’s no telling how long they’ll keep their money. Let that go, and their horses go with it, to the jockey and the race-course, to be abused and betted on and driven to death.

“No; I would rather see my colt in the hands of some grand, rich lady—the gem of her stable, her daily companion and pet. And is he not made for it? Look at his round, short body, so plump and easily kept; his strong, arched neck, and his beautiful thick mane and tail. And mark my words: it won’t be long before all that I predict about him comes true. In fact, I think I know who the lady is already. She drives by here in her barouche with liveried coachman and footman, each with a bouquet in his buttonhole, and as she passes I can see her looking over the fence.”

Here we will imagine that several years have suddenly vanished, and we are again visiting the fields where the above interview took place. One of them is being ploughed, and a stout roan horse is stepping briskly in front of the furrow; the other field its owner is clearing of stones, and a young bay is hauling out a heavy cart-load of them. Both horses are strong and willing helpers on the farm, earning an honest living, valued and well cared for by their masters, and far better off than they would be if left to the heedless servants of the fashionable lady or the proud millionaire.

* * * * *

What weakness and folly do we often show in the secret expectations we cherish concerning those who are to come after us! And how well it is for them that the shaping of their destinies is not in our hands!

THE OLD MAN’S WATCH.

AN old man and a young one were walking together over a rough and hilly road. Said the old man:

“Though I detain you by being unable to keep up with your rapid step, yet, in spite of this feeble frame, I am feeling in spirit as young as you. Perhaps you can hardly believe this?”

“I can believe it if you say so,” replied the young man, “but confess that when I look at your snowy locks and your bent form, I cannot understand it.”

“Stop a moment,” said the old man, drawing out his watch and exposing its works to view. “You see that, like myself, this watch has seen its best days. Its case shows wear, and so do its works. These little cog-wheels do not fit into each other as closely as they once did, and they are growing farther apart, by wear, every day. But now look at the mainspring, where it lies, here, coiled up by itself. It shows no wear. The same power and elasticity it has had all along remain in it still.”

“I see,” replied the other; and, becoming so interested in the watch as to forget it was being used only as an illustration, he continued: “Why do you not have the rest of the works repaired?”

“Your question is natural,” said the old man. “So I might have these worn-out works repaired, but not this worn-out body. Neither do I desire it. It will soon have done its work and lasted out its appointed time here. But in another state of being the immortal part—the mainspring, so to speak—will live on, clothed with a new body as immortal as itself. It is this that still remains as vigorous as ever, and makes me feel, in spirit, as young as yourself.”

* * * * *

As we advance in years we are conscious of that within us which does not grow old, but which, having learned that this world cannot satisfy, grows weary of it, and peers anxiously into the next.

THE TEACHER.

I DREAMED that I had started on a journey, and as I trudged along the path alone a man carrying a mirror, stopped me, saying:

“I want to speak with you.”

I replied: “From whence do you come, and what may your calling be?”

He answered: “I come from beyond that steep hill in front of you which you have yet to climb; and I am a teacher, teaching by the things that I show in my mirror.”

Then he held his mirror up before my eyes and told me to look. I obeyed, and saw a ship tossed in a storm. The sails were blown to pieces, the boats were broken, the deck was swept by the waves, and the ship was ready to sink. Then I saw the master come to the side, and stand there pouring oil from a vessel in his hand on the angry waters. And presently, although the storm continued to rage over the rest of the ocean, the ship seemed to be rocked in a little basin that was calm.

Said the teacher: “Gentleness overcomes where resistance would be in vain.”

He held up the mirror again, and I saw two stone-cutters at work dressing a great block of granite. On the wall above them was a clock. Now, one of the men stood with his back to the clock, so that he could not see it, and his arm dealt strong and rapid blows on the stone, seeming never to tire. But the other man stood facing the clock, and was constantly lifting up his eyes to it; and I noticed that his arm was raised slowly and feebly, as if losing its strength, and his face wore an expression of weariness.

The teacher said: “He who does not set his heart on his task, but on the rest that comes after it, makes poor work for his employer and long hours for himself.”

Again he held the mirror up, and I saw a vine planted in the ground, with branches growing out of each side. Now, the vine was as if it were made of glass, so that I could see the sap running from the stalk into the branches. And as it did this they all put forth leaves and blossoms. But suddenly, as I looked, the sap ceased to flow into one of the branches. Then the buds and blossoms fell from it to the earth, and the branch withered and died before my eyes.

Said the teacher: “It is not what the branch gives, but what it receives, that makes it of value in the vineyard.”

He held up the mirror again, and I saw a man with a lantern leading a company that followed him on a dark and narrow path. But presently he closed his eyes, and, as he did so, stumbled and fell. Then one of his followers seized the lantern from his hand and led the others in safety, but the one who had fallen did not return again.

The teacher said: “Even the guide who points out the way must tread carefully, or he may step aside and be lost.”

Again he held up the mirror, and I saw a great fire burning—not near, but, as it were, in a far-off abyss. In it were being consumed what I had always looked upon as the greatest works of men. And those of my own works in which I had taken the greatest pride were also being devoured by the flames. Only a few of the deeds that had seemed to me of lesser value, but that had been done for love (the love of One who first loved me), stood unconsumed in the fire.

And the teacher said: “Behold true and false immortality.”

Once more he held up the mirror, and I saw a man carrying a heavy load up a hill. The hill grew steeper at every step, and the man bent down under the weight of the load until his forehead nearly touched the ground in front of him. Then I saw one having a face full of love and a strong arm come up beside the man. But just as I supposed he was going to help him, what was my surprise to see this strong one pick up a heavy stone and put it on the top of his burden! Then I looked to see the man sink down, crushed, to the earth, but I saw the other touch him, and by that touch new strength was given him; so that he bore this heavy burden more easily than he had borne the lighter one.

And the teacher said: “No load is to be feared if only the strength be given to bear it.”

Then he took the mirror from before me and held it up to his own lips, breathing upon it. And I saw the vapor gather on its surface for a moment and then disappear.

And the teacher said: “Such are good impressions when made on the heart of man unless a higher Power fix them there.”

CLOUD-SHADOWS.

A CLOUD came sailing on the wind, which died away just as it reached a fruitful field.

“Pass on,” said the field, “and let me see the blue sky.”

The cloud spread itself out to catch the little air that was left, and slowly passed on to a field beyond. There it hung motionless. In the night it began to drop its watery contents upon the thirsty sward beneath, so that every green blade glistened as the sun rose upon it, and sprang up with renewed freshness and beauty. The field that had complained, seeing this and being parched with the sun’s rays, said:

“Ah that I had borne the cloud’s presence a while for the sake of the blessing it contained! I was impatient under its shadow, and now long for that which my neighbor has gained who submitted to its visitation without murmuring.”

* * * * *

We put out our hand and thrust away an imagined evil, to find out afterward that, if we had but welcomed it, it would have filled that hand with good.

THE PENITENT TRANSGRESSOR.

A GOOD natured poodle-dog, while trotting along the street one day, saw a friend of his, an ugly pug, lying on a doorstep looking very much dejected and out of spirits.

“Why do you look so mournful?” asked the poodle. “What has happened?”

“I feel sorry for something I’ve done,” replied the pug.

“What is it? Have you been peeping into your master’s looking-glass?”

“No, but I’ve bitten another dog.”

“Well, I suppose he took a bone away from you or snarled at you, or did something else to deserve it.”

“He did snarl at me, that’s true, but I don’t think I ought to have bitten him.”

“Didn’t he bite you back again?”

“No, and that makes me feel all the worse.”

“Oh, well, cheer up; it’s over now, and very likely you’ll never see him any more.”

“Yes, I will, though, for he’s a relation of mine.”

“But you’ll never bite him again after being so sorry for it—I’m sure of that—and that’s some comfort.”

“But I’m not sure, for I’ve done it before, and been sorry too. When anything doesn’t please me, all at once I get so mad that I hardly know what I’m about, and then I’m ready to bite my dearest friend.”

“Do you mean that you get crazy and lose your senses?”

“No, I only mean that I lose my temper. I’m sorry for it every time, but I go on losing it and biting my friends over and over again; and I’m discouraged about it, and don’t know what to do.”

“Well, if you haven’t got sense enough to stop it, right now and without any more whining, the sooner you go and give yourself up to the dog-catchers, the better.”

* * * * *

Persons who easily fly into a passion forfeit not only the regard and confidence of other people, but also their own self-respect.

THE DRY WELL.

A MAN who had always been able to get as much water from his well as he wanted, on drawing up the bucket one hot summer day, found less than a cupful in it. There was so little water at the bottom of the well that the bucket could not turn over and fill itself. As soon as the man discovered this he began abusing his well, saying:

“Is that all you can do? You are not worth the room you take or the money you cost to dig. If there is any one thing more useless and contemptible than another, it is a well that holds no water.”

“Does all my past service go for nothing, then?” asked the well. “I have filled your bucket, year after year, with unfailing streams, as you yourself know. And even now what I have I willingly offer, to the last drop.”

“‘Drop’ indeed, and little more!” said the man. “But what good will that do me? What I want is a barrelful or a hogsheadful if I need it.”

“I have not the ocean to draw from,” replied the well, “or even a river, but only one trickling spring. If that fails, I have no other resource, but must wait till its dried-up current begins to flow again. Can you, at all times, command the same fulness and excellence in your own work? Pray, do your powers never fail?”

* * * * *

How often are we intolerant of a single failure on the part of those who have generally succeeded in pleasing us, and who are still doing their very best to accomplish that end!

THE FRUIT TREE.

A FRUIT tree sprang up from a seed in the corner of a certain man’s field. It grew rapidly and put forth branches. Great was the man’s delight when he saw these bearing blossoms.

“Now I shall have fruit of my own,” he said.

Autumn came and the fruit appeared, but as it ripened, instead of growing round and rich and mellow, it grew knotted and hard and bitter to the taste.

“’Tis because it is young and the soil where it stands thin and poor,” the land-owner said.

Then he loosened the ground around its roots and enriched and watered it, and afterward waited for spring. Spring came, and again the tree put forth blossoms and bore fruit, more abundantly than before; but it was worthless and unfit to be eaten.

Another winter passed and spring returned once more, and one sunny morning, as the land-owner stood looking at his tree and repining over it, there came a gardener by that way.

“What troubles you?” he said, seeing the man’s sad face.

“My tree has proved worthless,” replied the other. “Yet I have done all that could be done to it, and still it bears only evil fruit.”

At this the gardener took out his pruning-knife and opening it, he came to the tree and at one stroke severed its top, with all its spreading boughs, so that they fell down on the ground, as fit only for the burning. Then he made a deep cleft in the stock of the tree, and into this he inserted a young shoot that he carried with him. Next he anointed, with clay, the wound that his knife had made, and wrapped it about carefully, and, turning to the land-owner, said:

“Be patient; give it time. All yet will be well.”

Another season came. The new shoot put forth buds; it blossomed, and then (after the gardener had grafted it, but not before) the tree brought forth good fruit.

* * * * *

There is a life which is ours by natural inheritance, and another which comes only as a free gift. Though both are housed in the same body, they are received at different times and have each a separate existence and destiny.

THE DEER.

A DEER that lived in a country far from the abodes of men used to stay during the winter on some low-lying lands where she could find patches of grass growing through the cold weather, and thick coverts, also, among the evergreens, in which to hide while the fierce snow-storms were prevailing. But as soon as spring returned she left the low-lands and hastened to a mountain many miles away, and there, roaming over its wooded heights and drinking from a quiet lake that lay spread out on its very top, she stayed, rejoicing, all the summer long.

After she had been doing thus for many years, and when she was no longer young, it happened one winter that certain strange sensations crept through her frame such as she had never before known. She rose from her lair with more difficulty than formerly, and walked at times with an unsteady step. She grew weak and thin, and afraid of the storms that she used to face boldly when going forth in search of food. Then she began to wonder, and say:

“What ails me, and what do these feelings mean?”

But presently she answered:

“I know what I need: it is a drink from the lake on the mountain-top. When I can taste of it once more, these feelings will pass away.”

So she waited in her low-land home, through the cold and dreary winter days that remained, for the opening buds and singing birds of spring. As soon as these appeared she started on her journey to the mountain. But now that journey seemed longer than it used to seem. She had to rest oftener by the way. Instead of leaping from crag to crag as she ascended the mountain-side, she found herself picking out the easiest and safest paths. Still laboring on up the steep ascent, she at last reached the summit and stood beside the lake that she loved. It looked the same. The rocks around its shores were reflected in its bosom, the water-lilies floated on its surface, the trees and wild-flowers grew down to its very edge. All was as it had ever been. She said: “I shall soon be well again;” and, putting her mouth down to the water, drank. But presently she raised it slowly, saying: “Either it is changed, or I am. It does not taste as it once did, or bring the refreshment it has always before brought to my wearied frame.”

Then, turning with feeble step to the bed of moss under the thick bushes where she had so often rested in years gone by, she lay down, to rise from it no more. The fresh, pure mountain-breeze was still blowing; other deer came and drank in new life and vigor at the lake; it was as beautiful and its surroundings were as health-giving as ever; but they could not recall the life that, having reached its farther bound, had passed away.

* * * * *

There is a day coming when the scenes and influences that once revived our failing strength will do so no more, and their failure will be a token that to us the end of earthly things is at hand.

HOMELY AND HANDSOME.

A HORSE and a cow that were turned out to pasture together cropped the grass in company until they came to a tree in the middle of the field, where they stopped to rest in the shade. The cow lay down and chewed the cud, but the horse stood switching off the flies with his long tail.

While doing this he turned to the cow and said:

“I’ve just been thinking what a contrast there is between us two. I am so swift, and you are so slow. You travel only from the barn to the field in summer, and hardly get out of the barnyard in winter. Your walk is clumsy and awkward; and when you try to run, you seem to have our old master’s rheumatism in every joint. How different it is with me, galloping swiftly over the country around, visiting our neighbors’ farms and hearing of all that is going on! But then it is not your fault that you were made to be only a cow, while I was made a fleet-footed horse.”

“I’m very glad,” said the cow, “that you are so well satisfied with your lot, but I don’t want you to think I am dissatisfied with mine. When our mistress pats me on the side and calls me kind names, after milking, I feel proud too. For this I go through the fields picking out the freshest grass and the richest clover, saying to myself, ‘I’ll give her a good pailful to-night.’ Then, when I see the red cheeks of the children, I know I’ve had something to do with them; and when our master drives you to market with his butter-tub well filled, I have a notion he would miss me, as well as you.”

“I don’t deny,” replied the horse, “that you have your good points and are useful in your way. I was only pitying you for being so slow and so ugly.”

As he spoke these words he saw the farmer coming through the gate into the field and bringing a strange man with him. They came directly to the tree where the horse and the cow were resting.

“Yes,” said the stranger, looking at the horse; “he’s a smart, good-looking colt, and by putting him through some pretty hard training I reckon I can work him off at a fair profit. I’ll give you your price for him.”