In Germany it is "Stille Wasser sind tief"—"Still waters are deep"—or "gründen tief," "are grounded deep." In its English and German dress we learn that the silent man is a thoughtful man, but in France it is rendered as "Il n'y a pire eau que l'eau qui dort"—"There is no worse water than that which sleeps"—making the considerably stronger assertion that a thoughtful man becomes thereby a distinctly dangerous member of society!
While we are reminded of the restless turmoil of the babbling brook, and gain in its contemplation a hint of the fussy activity that in shallow minds ends in little but outward show, we must nevertheless learn that the day of small things must not be despised, for "Little brooks make great rivers." Recalling the fable of the ensnared lion and the kindly and industrious mouse that came to his rescue, we learn afresh that the weak may often help the great, for "When large ships run aground, little boats may pull them off." How true, too, to experience is it that "To a crazy ship all winds are contrary," when in many lives there seem times when everything goes wrong, and the unfortunate victim of circumstances is buffeted from all directions. Another of these aqueous proverbs reminds us how in such case the most desperate remedies may be tried, for "A drowning man will catch at a straw." To profit, too, by seasons of good fortune is no less needful, for "Every tide will have an ebb," and we may not assume that the opportunities we neglect to-day will be always open to our embrace.
"There is a tide in the affairs of men,"
we are told by Shakespeare, who doubtless knew this proverb, and transmuted it by his genius into fine gold—
"Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries."
In the day of prosperity friends appear to be numerous, but adversity tries their worth, and it is too true for the credit of human nature, that "Men shut their doors against the setting sun." "Strike," then, "while the iron is hot"—"Batti il ferro quando è caldo," say in like manner the Italians. This is a proverb, however, that is met with almost universally, seeing that the necessity for prompt decision is also almost equally universal. Chaucer tells us how
"Pandarus, whiche that stode her faste by,
Felt iron hotte, and he began to smite."
Yet, remember, would one prosper, "Have not too many irons in the fire." These proverbs suggested by the smithy recall yet one other, and a very ancient one, "Inter malleum et incudem"—"Between the hammer and the anvil"—a position so hemmed in with danger that no way of escape seems possible.
When a continuous use of any advantage blinds us to the need of caution, we must remember that "The pitcher goes oft to the well, but is broken at last," and what we have grown careless in the use of we may presently find that we have lost.[14:A] When this day comes another proverb—as to the folly of "shutting the stable door after the horse is stolen"—may be too late recalled. How picturesque and how true to life the well-worn adages, "A new broom sweeps clean," "A creaking door hangs long on its hinges," "One nail drives out another," as portrayed in the new-born diligence that, mayhap, will not last; in the career that drags along despite all probabilities of its survival; in the fickle heart and mind that lightly supplant old friends with new, or drop some hobby that a week ago seemed all-absorbing in favour of some other thing of no greater value, but possessing the attraction of novelty.
To those who live in constant nervous dread of impending misfortune it should be some little comfort to remember that "Every mote doth not blind a man." Things often work out better than the anticipation of them suggested. No action is unimportant, and all have their consequences, seeing "There is no hair so small but hath its shadow." If the action be wrong the results will accord, for "A crooked stick throws a crooked shadow." As one sows, so must they reap; thistles will never yield figs, nor thorns grapes.