The Thistle and the Tree

Once upon a time there was a tree. It was a nice tree. And right beside it was a thistle. And this tree and this thistle were the only two living things for miles around. But the thistle was a very mean thistle. And would often start shouting in the middle of the night just to wake the tree up. But the tree, being a kind and gentle tree, instead of getting angry, would just ask the thistle if everything was all right and then go back to sleep. Then in the morning the thistle would grumble at the tree for blocking the sunlight. And during noon would grumble because the tree wasn’t affording him any shade. But the tree, being a good natured tree, wouldn’t get offended or upset but in a clam voice explain to the thistle that he was indeed just a tree and could do no more about where he was then could the thistle. But never did it get upset or angry with the thistle and that made the thistle all the more angry and grouchy. This went on for a great deal of time, the thistle always mad and bad-tempered, and the tree always in a good mood.

Now, the tree being a temperate, pleasant tree, had grown tall, and straight, and strong. But the thistle being a moody, irritable thistle had become shriveled, and worn, and sharp.

Then it happened one day, there come about some men. Men in search of adventure but having traveled many days without a map they were now hopelessly lost. But stumbling upon this tree their hopes began to rise as they looked for a low branch from which to climb to the top and find there way out. Round the tree they went and finding a suitable branch they hoisted one of their number on to it, and he climb to the top to find their way out. Then shouting that he had indeed seen where they should be off to, he jumped down and the group continued on their way.

Now the tree, being an agreeable, pleasing tree was glad that he could have been a help. But the thistle, being a crabby, cranky thistle, had been trampled underfoot