WHEN the plant first saw the glass house rising around it, it felt both joy for the shelter it would get and pride at the wonderful attention it was receiving. "What an expense they have gone to," it said, as the beautiful house was finished, never thinking of the infinitely greater expense of the river, on which it had never bestowed a thought. The fine spray of the carefully prepared liquid was also much pleasanter than the drenching it used to get with the cold river water, and when its stem began to get covered with bark and its crest to rise higher and higher it was quite delighted with itself. "It is of no use," it said to itself, "for me to be pushing out and strengthening my roots in the soil, no rough winds can shake me in this lovely house. I am quite secure, and can devote all my strength to growing higher and higher. The gardeners were very tall men, and always carried their heads very high, and the great desire of the little tree was to row as high as they were. So it drew in all the sap from its roots, and devoted all its energy to push out shoot after shoot, leaf after leaf, and above all to send its central stem higher and higher. Its roots under the sand gave very little trouble now, for they were almost dried up (so far, indeed, though without knowing it, the glass house did good). It was a proud day for the young plant when it saw all its old enemies the thorns and weeds cleared away, and it looked round with the utmost complacency at the bare ground, where not one weed was to be seen. "Now at last," it said, "I have got a complete victory over them all, and not a vestige of them remains."
It was rather foolish to say this while all the roots were left, but then the young tree had forgotten that. It was a sad day for the plant when the king came and all its beautiful house was destroyed, all the fine syringes burnt, and worse than all, its own height not admired. "I could have borne the rest" thought the plant, "but to say I have not grown, and am only drawn up is really too bad. Certainly my top leaves are rather heavy, I must confess, for my strength, but still they are very beautiful."
But a sadder day than this soon came to the poor tree. It was a gusty day at the end of April, when the wind kept coming in great puffs, first from one point then from another. The young plant first bent to one side then to the other, till its thin roots quite shook in the earth. "The wind has a special malice against me," sighed the young tree, "for it sees I am quite at its mercy now." This was true, though the tree did not know it, for the prince, seeing his opportunity, had raised the storm against it. At last a tremendous gust came, down went the head of the tree, lower and lower, till its roots were almost torn out of the soil. It could not bend another inch without being uprooted altogether; the wind came harder and harder, and at last with a great crash all the top broke off, and hung in a confused mass at its side.
Poor tree! this was a dreadful blow; to have all the apparent progress of months broken off short in the first storm. "If I only had had longer roots," it said, "I think I could have bent a little more; but my roots are so small, I seem all above the surface." Still the wind howled, and did not subside till every high branch had been blown off. When the gardener came next day, the tree was a piteous spectacle. Its shattered state gave it great pain, but it suffered still more when the gardener, instead of tying up its broken branches (as it had hoped), took out his sharp knife and cut them all off short. When it was all done, and many a long offshoot cut back as well, you would hardly have recognized the tree at all. I am sure if the three gardeners could have seen it, they would not have owned it.
Relieved of all its lofty shoots the young tree set to work to strengthen its roots. No longer forced by stimulating nourishment and artificial heat, but watered with the pure river water, it soon got strong and hardy. The prince saw that although it had lost its pride, the storm had done it no real injury, and he almost began to despair of success, when a circumstance occurred that greatly favored his plans.
This was nothing else than the departure of the old gardener. He had received orders unexpectedly for some wise reason, to leave the plant entirely alone for a year, and not even to give it a drop of water. Great was the astonishment of the plant when one day it saw the gardener pull down the little tent he had erected for his shelter near the spot, and go away with his watering can.
We almost forgot to mention that the weeds by this time had sprung up again, all except a few that grew close round the tree, and that now were so overshadowed by it that they could not grow at all.
The gardener left at the close of summer, and although the young tree had never cared for him as much as for the other three, it really felt sad as it saw him disappearing across the desert sand