THE ENVIOUS FLOWER.

Otago Witness, Issue 4048, 13 October 1931, Page 68

THE ENVIOUS FLOWER.

Once upon a time a very beautiful and sweet-scented little wild plant grew close to an old grey stone wall of a ruined mansion in the country, and as it burst into lovely blossom it. began to glance around it, amongst all the weeds and other wild plants growing near, to see if it could discover any flower quite as charming and as daintily fragrant as itself: but there was nothing to be seen but straggling weeds, long grass, and coarse vines, whilst thick ivy leaves covered the old grey stone ruined wall. “ How very beautiful I am! ” said the sweet little flower, and the clinging ivy and the long grass round about kindly and affectionately replied, “ Sweet little friend, you are worthy of the utmost admiration, for you are, indeed, very lovely! ” “ Then, why am I compelled to spend all my life in this desolate and neglected spot?” asked the little plant. “I seem to be the only beautiful thing in all this wild and isolated place... Why am I not growing in some artistically planned and well-kept garden, in the distinguished society of those whose beauty and sweet fragrance would prove desirable company for me? ”

“ Alas! ” said the ivy tenderly, whilst all the weeds and little wild plants listened attentively. “Would you leave your own native home and all the kind and affectionate friends of your youth to seek the society of gaily dressed people who have probably never even heard of you? Would you live in a garden where, owing to your simplicity, you would he sneered at and treated disdainfully by others who are, perhaps, not naturally

so innocent, simple, and sweet as you are? Here the happy little birds sing round you, here the wild bee comes to kiss you, here the big trees and the old grey stone wall shelter you from the cold wind, and here you always shine as a bright little star amongst loving friends in peaceful and blissful solitude.”

But the beautiful little flower seemed to be very unhappy and discontented with its lot, and would not listen to the kind words of the ivy, and at that moment a horseman rode past the ruined old grey stone wall, and seeing the lovely plant he dismounted from his horse ami stooped to pluck one of its sweet-scented blossoms. “Oh!” exclaimed the pretty flower, “ please, kind sir, do not just take only one of my blossoms but raise me entirely from the ground and bear me away to a soil more worthy of my beauty and fragrance, and do not leave me to longer fret and pine unhappily in tnis desolate solitude! ” So the horseman did as the little plant begged, and dug it up from beside the old ruined wall and carried it away with him, and when he returned home he planted it amongst some lovely flowers in his beautifullyplanned garden. “Why, whoever can this be?” exclaimed a rare orchid, very loftily. “ I really cannot tell you what it is,” replied a large red rose, “and I quite fail to understand what a countrified little thing like that is doing here in this garden at all amongst all this aristocratic and gaily-dressed splendour ! ”

“Oh! won’t you all be kind and friendly with me?” pleaded the sweet little plant, “ for I have come such a long journey to see you, and all my friends in the country told me I am worthy of the admiration of all, because I am so sweetly fragrant and very beautiful.”

But the gorgeously-arrayed garden flowers paid no attention, and haughtily turned their heads away and ignored the unhappy little wild flower. As time went on it drooped and faded and tried in vain to open its beautiful blossoms, and when at last it finallj' succeeded the brilliance and prettiness were dimmed by the splendour and gorgeous hues of its aristocratic companions, and its sweet fragrance was completely lost in the very powerful perfume exhaled by the flowers around it. '

“ Oh, to see my dear friends, the clinging ivy the dear little weeds, and the nice, long grass once more, and to hear the soft whispering voice of the pure and sweet country wind through the trees Oh, for the song of the dear little birds and the affectionate kiss of the wild bee! And, oh, how I long for my old home under the old ruined grey stone wall and the sweet voice of affectionate friendship! What have I exchanged you all for? ”

And the poor unhappy little country plant pined and mourned until it withered and was cast away. And when a dear little bird came one day and settle-1 on the old grey stone wall in the country he whispered the sad story to the ivy and the little wild flowers. “Alas!” sighed the ivy, “ why did she ever leave us? Here she reigned like a beautiful little queen amongst us, for there was nothing here as sweet and fragrant as she was, and yve all loved her deaily. Believe me,” he said softly to the little bird on the old grey stone wall, “ there is nothing like love and sincere, true friendship, and there is never any place in the world like home.”—Glasgow Weekly Herald.