WHO shall tell the joy of that first winter. The cold was intense, and all above ground looked bare and dead enough, except where here and there the few leaves that had not already fallen off still preserved a greenness and freshness quite unnatural at that season of the year. But the main life of the tree was down in its root. There all was fresh and moist the water was drawn in just as it was wanted from the inexhaustible river, and the young tree felt as it drank in the soft stream that flowed direct from the city of the great king that it had a new link formed in that far off desert with the one who reigned there. Not content with having one channel of supply, with some difficulty the young plant drove a second root through the clay bed of the river into the stream, and these two roots soon grew thick and strong, so that when spring came round crowds of buds everywhere told of a new and vigorous life; and the plant, instead of dreading the recommencement of the summer's heats under which it had nearly died the year before, looked forward to it with joy as a time when it would most fully prove the boundless resources of its new friend.
At the close of spring the tree was not only covered with fresh leaves, but strange to say not one of last year's leaves had yet fallen off. Darker in color than the rest they were just as full of life, for from the moment that the root of the young tree first touched the river, it became an evergreen, no more to cast its leaf, but alike in the coldest winter as in the hottest summer, to gratify and refresh the eye with a verdure that never faded.
You can well imagine the surprise of the old gardener when, after a journey full of painful forebodings, he first caught sight of the tree one summer's day. All along the road he had pictured to himself the dead and leafless branches of a withered tree, and he had wondered how the king, who had taken such an interest in it could have allowed it thus to die, when at last-there it stood before him, instinct with life in every branch. He rubbed his eyes, and walked round it on every side, looking again and again at the fresh leafy verdure, and utterly unable to understand it. "I think," he said at last, "my three friends must have stolen a march on-me, and been watering this tree behind my back. But on looking carefully around he could discern no track of footsteps anywhere about the plant. Looking again at the tree his keen eye detected many of last year's leaves among the new foliage, which was a fresh source of amazement. "Well," he said, "I cannot tell who has nourished the tree, but whoever or whatever it is, it answers a great deal better than the glass house. It scarcely seems that my watering can is needed now. One thing is certain, the king knew what he was about when he sent me away for a year, for instead of suffer ing, the plant has benefited, and I doubt not he knows, too, what I am sent back for, so I'll just go on the old way with my watering can." So he pitched his little tent again near the tree, and opening out his instructions he found that he was not to water the plant regularly as before, but at irregular intervals, leaving it sometimes alone for days together.
“Ah," he said, "that is to show that the plant is no longer dependent on the old gardener, and that though he is still a help it can get on without him.”
The watering can, however, did wonders; and all though the plant now drew water direct from the river, it never was so grateful for the refreshing showers poured over its leaves from the can. It grew apace in two ways. In the first place, it spread its lower branches nearly all over the plot, so that thorn after thorn died down to the ground, deprived of light and air by the thick overhanging boughs. The roots were still left, but as they did not get a chance of growing the weeds were practically dead. Some few small ones still lingered beyond the shade of the branches, a poor remnant of what had once held undisputed possession of the soil. The other way in which the tree displayed its vigorous life was in producing fruit. On many a bough were seen the small green bunches waiting for the summer's sun to ripen them. There were no flowers, for this tree was alone amongst all the vegetable kingdom in its mode of growth. It bore no bloom till its fruit-bearing seasons were over, and then it burst forth on every branch with never-fading flowers.
Great was the delight of the gardener at seeing the fruit mellow in the summer's heat, and to think that although the plant was no longer absolutely dependent on his can, still it had greatly flourished under it. At the close of summer he again struck his tent; but oh, with what different feelings from the year before. Then all was darkness and doubt as to the plant's future, now he knew all would go well with it, and left it in perfect confidence, not yet having discovered the hidden source of its life, though he had begun strongly to suspect it. Best of all he carried away with him the first fruits of the young tree to grace the table of the king.