The Sun and Wind once fell into a dispute as to their relative power. The Sun insisted, as he could thaw the iceberg, and melt the snows of winter, and bid the plants spring out of the ground, and send light and heat over the world, that he was the most powerful. “It may be,” said he, “that you can make the loudest uproar; but I can produce the greatest effect. It is not always the noisiest people that achieve the greatest deeds.”
“This may seem very well,” said the Wind, “but it is not just. Don’t I blow the ships across the sea, turn windmills, drive the clouds across the heavens, get up squalls and thundergusts, and topple down steeples and houses, with hurricanes?”
Thus the two disputed, when, at last, a traveller was seen coming along; and they agreed each to give a specimen of what he could do, and let the traveller decide between them. So the Wind began, and it blew lustily. It nearly took away the traveller’s hat and cloak, and very much impeded his progress; but he resisted stoutly. The Wind having tried its best, then came the Sun’s turn. So he shone down with his summer beams, and the traveller found himself so hot that he took off his hat and cloak, and so decided that the Sun had more power than the Wind.
Thus our fable shows that the gentle rays of the Sun were more potent than the tempest; and we generally find in life that mild means are more effective, in the accomplishment of any object, than violence.
The Kamschatka Lily.
In Kamschatka there is a lily called the Sarana, which almost covers the ground with blossoms; the roots of this lily are good to eat when they are baked, and are sometimes made into bread.
There is a little mouse in Kamschatka, which lays these roots by in its own store-house, and when the weather is fine, it brings them out to dry in the sun; sometimes the people of that country look for the store-house of the little mouse, and carry away the roots; but they always take care to leave some behind for the poor mouse that has had the trouble of collecting them.
Habits which concern ourselves.
From our first days we are much absorbed in the affairs of self. It is necessary we should take food, and we do it for ourselves alone. This leads a very little child to put everything he can reach into his mouth. Now, here is a habit; and it becomes so easy for him to carry his hand to his lips, that he does not know, at length, when and how often he does it.