“How well you walk! That staff is just the thing for you. But you don’t need the crutches; why do you cumber yourself with them?”
With this the man took hold of the crutches to take them from him, but the cripple would not let go of them. The man stood and reasoned a while with him; but when he found it was of no use, he turned away, disgusted, saying, as he left him:
“Any way, you are a fool, to keep both.”
The cripple had not gone much farther, leaning on his staff, when he came to some more rough ground, where he floundered about for a while and then fell to the earth, striking his head and bringing the blood. Then he was glad that he had not parted with the crutches. He drew them out from behind him, put them under his arms, and proceeded on his way.
Now we should think that he would never trust to his staff again. But it was not so. He hardly ever came to a smooth place that he did not draw it forth and walk with it, till he learned again, by sad experience, that it would not support him; so that this was, in fact, the history of his going—toiling along with his staff and falling, and then betaking himself to his crutches once more.
