IT was a bright sunny day when, for the first time in the history of this little plot, a tiny plant was seen opening out its first two leaves. They were so green and pretty that the tall thorns and weeds, looked down with something like envy at the new comer, who was to dispute with them the possession of the king's ground. They were rather amused at the vigorous growth of the little plant, which looked as if it actually thought that it had a chance of living. They knew better than that. It was all very well for them, who were at home in the place, to grow in rank luxuriance in a soil that suited them, favored as they were by the prince, who regarded them with as much pride as if they were valuable plants, but they had seen too many vain attempts to cultivate the barren soil, to suppose for a moment that the little plant would succeed in living.
As spring advanced, however, it grew wonderfully, and in a few months' time was almost as tall as the weeds themselves. Every week it was carefully watered by some gardener who was sent direct from the king, as he took the greatest interest in the plant's welfare. It had indeed been a matter of great surprise in the court that such a mighty king could occupy himself with such a barren plot at all, and still greater was the astonishment when the welfare of the young plant formed a daily topic of interest; until it was found out that the seed had been brought at a great expense from a far country by the king's son, and that it was for his sake that it was so precious to the king.
You will wonder, when you hear that the plant was watered at least once a week, where the water came from in such a desert. I have already told you that although the desert was entirely under the power of the prince, it really was the king's property, and it was said that some day he would assert his right over it and resume his sway. There were some old books in court that alluded to this glorious time, and which stated that the barren desert itself should then "blossom like a rose," that the waste places should sing for joy, when the prince no longer should rule over it, but the king, or, as the book said, the king's son.
Some time before the little seed was sown, partly, no doubt, with a view to this coming time, the king's son, at an immense expense, had constructed a river through the desert, which passed about fifteen yards on one side of the king's plot. Its source was in the city of the king, and it was always kept brimful winter and summer. Now it was from this river that the gardeners obtained their water.
Spring brightened into summer, and summer faded into autumn, and still the plant throve. Its roots were not very strong or very long, but then it was so well cared for and regularly attended that it got on very well. As winter drew on, and the plant for the first time began to feel the fierce cold blast, many of its leaves shriveled a little, but it got no real harm itself, for the king gave orders that (as it was its first season) it should be well protected with plenty of matting and straw.
You may perhaps be surprised that all this time the prince did not seek to destroy the plant, but the fact was he had very little opportunity to do much, for one or other of the gardeners were sure not to be far off, besides which, although he hated the king, he feared him, and dared not, therefore, offer any direct violence to what was his. However, he did all he could; he looked after the thorns and weeds, and by helping on their growth as much as possible, he hoped eventually to choke the seedling.