Five Minutes' Stories

London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C. 43 QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.C. Brighton: 135 NORTH STREET. New York: E. & J. B. YOUNG & CO.
Richard Clay and Sons, Limited, London and Bungay.

GREAT many years ago there dwelt in a city of the East, of which you have never heard the name, a wise and holy man. He was highly esteemed by his fellow citizens, for he was kind and benevolent, never refusing good counsel to those in earnest to profit by it, so that by degrees the fame of his sagacity spread far and wide, and many came from great distances to consult him.
One day he was sitting in front of his modest dwelling, enjoying the soft breeze that stirred the trees hard by, reading from time to time short passages of an ancient volume open upon his knees, when a shadow fell across its pages, and looking up, he perceived that a stranger stood before him, who saluted him with the greatest respect and courtesy. The sage returned the customary greetings, and then inquired in what he could be of service to the new-comer.
Father, said the stranger, I have journeyed far to ask your advice. My quest is summed up in few words, What can I do to be happy?
The wise man looked at him searchingly. He was a handsome man in the prime of life, richly dressed, healthy and vigorous. His appearance would have been most prepossessing but for a melancholy and discontented expression of countenance—there was no genial smile about the mouth, no kindly light in the eyes.
What have you tried? inquired the sage.
Everything, replied the stranger. Yet without foolish prodigality and excess. I have sought to surround myself with beauty and refinement, for my wealth is inexhaustible. I have dipped deep into learning, for my abilities are, I am told, considerable; I have even of late in a sort of despair tried to find content in enjoyment of less elevated kinds, such as seems to satisfy many men. But all was useless—eating and drinking, and such physical gratifications could do nothing for one who had sought in vain satisfaction in the perfection of music, of painting and sculpture—nay, more, who had found in the severest of studies but weariness and disappointment.