“NOW I see," said the gardener to him, self, "the reason of everything. I was sent away by the King in order that in its extremity the plant might discover the real source of its strength, and be able to draw its supplies direct from the river. I was only allowed to nourish the plant at uncertain intervals on my return, in order that I might see that the plant did not depend on my efforts, and now I have been sent again to find out, and, if possible, to repair the mischief the prince has wrought, for I doubt not it is his hand that has done all this.”
The gardener therefore set earnestly to work to unite the severed ends of the two roots, feeling while doing so that it was a higher honor to seek to enable the tree again to find its own nourishment, than merely to give it water. To restore the action of the roots was, indeed, no easy matter. The end that was Still in connection with the Plant was still alive, but the severed end appeared almost dead. Nothing daunted, however, and feeling sure that in doing this work he was fully carrying out the wishes of his master, he first dug a very deep trench along the line of the roots from the tree to the river; he then carefully bound the severed ends together and laid them deeply down at the bottom of it. After putting in a little soft earth, he then filled the trench up with the hardest rocks he could find, and covered the whole so completely with the sand that not even the prince himself could tell what had been done, as during the time the work was carried on, he had been absent in another part of his territory. He was much annoyed on his return to see that the plant was not looking nearly so badly as he expected. Still he waited on confidently expecting to see the tree die.
It had certainly had a very narrow escape, and if it had not been for the gardener's skill in repairing the broken communication it would have perished under the hot summer's sun. This may be a useful hint to gardeners, that when they see plants drooping, the watering-can is not everything; a more difficult, but at the same time a more valuable work being to discover whether there is no hidden injury to the roots. It is here the enemy loves to work. He knows well enough that breaking branches and pulling off leaves, though it may injure a plant's beauty, cannot affect its life; but that if only he can cut the roots, through which it draws its nourishment, he has fatally injured the tree.