The Conceited Apple-Branch

								
It was the month of May.  The wind still blew cold; but from bush
and tree, field and flower, came the welcome sound, "Spring is
come."  Wild-flowers in profusion covered the hedges.  Under the
little apple-tree, Spring seemed busy, and told his tale from one of
the branches which hung fresh and blooming, and covered with
delicate pink blossoms that were just ready to open.  The branch well
knew how beautiful it was; this knowledge exists as much in the leaf
as in the blood; I was therefore not surprised when a nobleman's
carriage, in which sat the young countess, stopped in the road just
by.  She said that an apple-branch was a most lovely object, and an
emblem of spring in its most charming aspect.  Then the branch was
broken off for her, and she held it in her delicate hand, and
sheltered it with her silk parasol.  Then they drove to the castle,
in which were lofty halls and splendid drawing-rooms.  Pure white
curtains fluttered before the open windows, and beautiful flowers
stood in shining, transparent vases; and in one of them, which
looked as if it had been cut out of newly fallen snow, the
apple-branch was placed, among some fresh, light twigs of beech.  It
was a charming sight.  Then the branch became proud, which was very
much like human nature.

People of every description entered the room, and, according to
their position in society, so dared they to express their
admiration.  Some few said nothing, others expressed too much, and
the apple-branch very soon got to understand that there was as much
difference in the characters of human beings as in those of plants and
flowers.  Some are all for pomp and parade, others have a great deal to
do to maintain their own importance, while the rest might be spared
without much loss to society.  So thought the apple-branch, as he stood
before the open window, from which he could see out over gardens and
fields, where there were flowers and plants enough for him to think
and reflect upon; some rich and beautiful, some poor and humble
indeed.

"Poor, despised herbs," said the apple-branch; "there is really
a difference between them and such as I am.  How unhappy they must
be, if they can feel as those in my position do!  There is a difference
indeed, and so there ought to be, or we should all be equals."

And the apple-branch looked with a sort of pity upon them,
especially on a certain little flower that is found in fields and in
ditches.  No one bound these flowers together in a nosegay; they were
too common; they were even known to grow between the paving-stones,
shooting up everywhere, like bad weeds; and they bore the very ugly
name of "dog-flowers" or "dandelions."

"Poor, despised plants," said the apple-bough, "it is not your
fault that you are so ugly, and that you have such an ugly name; but
it is with plants as with men,--there must be a difference."

"A difference!" cried the sunbeam, as he kissed the blooming
apple-branch, and then kissed the yellow dandelion out in the
fields.  All were brothers, and the sunbeam kissed them--the poor
flowers as well as the rich.

The apple-bough had never thought of the boundless love of God,
which extends over all the works of creation, over everything which
lives, and moves, and has its being in Him; he had never thought of
the good and beautiful which are so often hidden, but can never remain
forgotten by Him,--not only among the lower creation, but also among
men.  The sunbeam, the ray of light, knew better.

"You do not see very far, nor very clearly," he said to the
apple-branch.  "Which is the despised plant you so specially pity?"

"The dandelion," he replied.  "No one ever places it in a
nosegay; it is often trodden under foot, there are so many of them;
and when they run to seed, they have flowers like wool, which fly away
in little pieces over the roads, and cling to the dresses of the
people.  They are only weeds; but of course there must be weeds.  O, I
am really very thankful that I was not made like one of these
flowers."

There came presently across the fields a whole group of
children, the youngest of whom was so small that it had to be
carried by the others; and when he was seated on the grass, among
the yellow flowers, he laughed aloud with joy, kicked out his little
legs, rolled about, plucked the yellow flowers, and kissed them in
childlike innocence.  The elder children broke off the flowers with
long stems, bent the stalks one round the other, to form links, and
made first a chain for the neck, then one to go across the
shoulders, and hang down to the waist, and at last a wreath to wear
round the head, so that they looked quite splendid in their garlands
of green stems and golden flowers.  But the eldest among them
gathered carefully the faded flowers, on the stem of which was grouped
together the seed, in the form of a white feathery coronal.  These
loose, airy wool-flowers are very beautiful, and look like fine
snowy feathers or down.  The children held them to their mouths, and
tried to blow away the whole coronal with one puff of the breath.  They
had been told by their grandmothers that who ever did so would be sure
to have new clothes before the end of the year.  The despised flower
was by this raised to the position of a prophet or foreteller of
events.

"Do you see," said the sunbeam, "do you see the beauty of these
flowers?  do you see their powers of giving pleasure?"

"Yes, to children," said the apple-bough.

By-and-by an old woman came into the field, and, with a blunt
knife without a handle, began to dig round the roots of some of the
dandelion-plants, and pull them up.  With some of these she intended to
make tea for herself; but the rest she was going to sell to the
chemist, and obtain some money.

"But beauty is of higher value than all this," said the apple-tree
branch; "only the chosen ones can be admitted into the realms of the
beautiful.  There is a difference between plants, just as there is a
difference between men."

Then the sunbeam spoke of the boundless love of God, as seen in

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