Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.
But the greatest change of all was in seed number One. She had spent the dark, cold night in thinking of the promise she had given and about which she had been reminded by seed number Two. Gradually the angry, rebellious feelings passed away and she began to realize how sinful her spirit had been. And now that the warm sunshine had turned the cold, wet clods into a blessing she most heartily felt ashamed of herself and could get no rest until she gave some expression to this feeling. She began by snuggling closer down among the clods and trying to make them feel that she was glad to be among them.
Then she whispered to them softly: “I am so sorry for the rude, impatient, angry words I spoke yesterday when I first came among you. Can you forgive me?”
“Certainly we will,” said the big clod that the seed had accused of mashing her. “I know we are rough looking companions for a tiny seed and oftimes we are forced, by influences from without, to act rudely. But Mother Nature knows our needs and will send water to soften our natures and men will lift and stir us about so that we can do our very best work in helping you and other seeds to perform life’s obligations.”
“Yes,” replied the seed, “I now remember how my mother used to praise you and tell us children that the nice juicy food she brought for us to eat came from the soil surrounding her roots.”
“I am glad you can remember us so kindly,” responded the clod. “Though we are the lowest of God’s creation, we are also the oldest, and He has most graciously used us as an instrument in performing His higher works. We hold a very humble place, and are trodden upon by all of His creatures, yet we are happy in realizing that we, too, have a direct commission from him and a part to perform in the creation of the great living world above us. Our most extensive and immediate work is helping Mother Nature to produce the vegetable kingdom, to which you belong, and we want you to feel,” continued the clod, “that you are among friends who are waiting and anxious to serve you.”
“Thank you,” replied the seed; “you are very, very kind, and I am sure I shall learn to love you dearly.” Saying this she crept down closer into the warm little crevice and the clod, absorbing the water that had been turned into the furrow, melted around her and gave her protection, moisture and food.
The next night did not seem so cold to the seeds. They had become better acquainted with the soil and through the influence of the sun and water were clasped more warmly and tenderly in his arms. There they lay and waited until the little germ within them began to stir and knock for egress. The kind soil had by his own virtues softened their walls so that it was not difficult for the swelling germs to make an opening through which they stretched tiny white hands and laid them lovingly into the strong ones of their benefactor. In these handclasps were pledged mutual co-operation, sympathy and love throughout life. “Useless each without the other.”
No sooner had these little hands made sure of their hold upon the soil than there came an irrepressible longing in the heart bud to reach up and to know another world. In obedience to this call the little bud peeped out of its own hull and crept softly through the soil, up to the sunshine and air. There it unfolded two tiny leaves in thankfulness and praise to One who had made possible this new life. As the fullness of the higher world was comprehended, other leaves were thrown out until the little plant became a whorl of praise and gladness.
At this juncture new difficulties arose. These little leaves forgot their higher mission of love and praise and began to crowd and push each other, each striving to grow tallest and command the greatest space. As seeds number One and Two lay very near each other it was not long before their leaves came together in the air world. They had been so busy growing that they had talked but little to each other since the first night. Seed number One had grown so happy, gentle and meek that she was fast gaining friends on all sides. Every one regretted that they had so harshly condemned her. But now this new trial was a severe test to her genuine heart goodness. At first she made some show of patience, for seed number Two, her closest neighbor, was so unselfish and gentle in all that she did that there was little excuse to be otherwise. But no sooner did other leaves come into the space she considered her own than her leaves began to rustle and complain and to say: “It is no use for me to try to grow, crowded up like this. I wish I had been planted somewhere all by myself.”
Then seed number Two gently whispered: “He who took you from your mother’s dead arms, kept you from freezing during the cold winter months and prepared for you this nice loose furrow in which to grow had a right to plant you where He wished and to do with you what He thinks best. As for ‘growing room,’ there is likely to be plenty of it within a few days for all those who have the good fortune to be here.” At this there was a rustle of surprise among the bystanders and they asked what she meant.
“I remember mother telling about her early life,” continued seed number Two, “how at first she and her companions were so crowded together that some lost all their beautiful green color and became white and sickly. But one day a girl, with a bucket on her arm and a knife in her hand, came and sat down near them. They all held their breath, not knowing what she intended to do. Then the girl took the knife and, catching a number of mother’s companions by the leaves, cut them off just below their bud. This she continued to do until her bucket was full. When she left there was plenty of room for those remaining to grow, but their hearts were sad and anxious.
“Each day the girl came back to some portion of the bed and acted in the same manner until the bunches were so scattering that the leaves did not touch each other. Each time mother expected that she would be one of the number and be cut off from the life she loved and in which she was hoping to redeem her promise to bear seeds for Mother Nature. Finally she and her companions began to notice that the girl always chose the largest and freshest looking bunches. Then some of them began to say: ‘What is the use of us trying our best to grow strong and vigorous? That very state endangers our lives. Mother Nature surely did not understand these surroundings when she exacted this promise from us!’ One bold, rebellious spirit said: ‘I am going to have my roots stop their work that my leaves may turn yellow and brown; and then I will get the wind to split and break them.’ ‘But,’ said mother, ‘that will be death.’
“‘Well, what does it matter? I would as lief die one way as another,’ gruffly responded the bold speaker.
“Most of mother’s companions nodded their assent, so she said nothing more until she had time to quietly think over the matter. That night mother stood, awake, looking up at the stars and trying to know what was best to do. Finally, when the first whispers of morning could be heard, they brought her this message: ‘Always and under all circumstances do your best. Live up to the highest and noblest within you and leave the result to Him who knows the heart.’
“Then there came peace and courage, and mother rose above the fear of death and resolved that she would not relax one effort to grow and carry out in detail the promise she had given. She was convinced that Mother Nature wanted her best each day rather than a mere existence in order that she might bear some puny seeds.
“Several days went by and the girl did not appear. The contrast became greater and greater between mother and her companions. She stood erect, holding her broad green leaves up to the sun, while in the midst of them could be seen a young, vigorous seed stalk crowned with the precious promises of the future. The leaves of her companions were fast turning yellow and brown and their whole attitude was dejected and forlorn.
“One day they heard voices in the garden. They thought this must be the girl coming to fill her bucket. All eyes were turned toward mother. They felt sure she would be the first chosen. But mother was calm and possessed, rejoicing in the knowledge that she had lived up to her higher duties and therefore was better prepared to either be cut down or left standing as fate would decide.
“As the voices came nearer they recognized the owner of the garden and with her John, who had always been their good friend, pulling up the weeds and loosening the soil around their roots. The owner and John were soon standing beside the bed where mother and her companions grew, and then the voice of the woman could be heard saying: ‘John, this bed is doing no good. The season is about over, anyway, so you can spade it