The Magic Sickle | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 2, 1882

The Magic Sickle.

ONCE upon a time there was a king, good and just, and beloved by his subjects. But he had not been long seated on the throne before his health began to fail. He cared not to go forth from his palace, and all its beautiful adornments gave him no pleasure. The feast spread before him he scarcely tasted, for all his appetite was gone. The king grew thin, his form wasted, he had no spirit either for work or amusement. At last, the courtiers whispered among themselves! "Alas! alas! our king is gradually wasting away: He will not long remain in this world!"

Many doctors were sent for. Various were the opinions which they gave as to the cause of the king's illness, the nature of his disease. Some persons even hinted at poison. Much medicine was given to the king, but still he grew no better. He seemed at last unable to do anything but recline on cushions, taking hardly any nourishment, and finding solace in nothing but smoking his hookah. It was commonly reported in the city, "Our good king is going to die!"

At last, a very famous physician from a neighboring country was sent by its friendly king. The fame of this physician had been spread far and wide, so numerous had been the cures which he had wrought.

The physician was admitted to the presence of the king, whom he found pale and almost lifeless, with closed eyes, extended on his soft couch. The physician felt the king's pulse, inquired into his symptoms, and then asked for twenty-four hours before deciding on his case.

The next day, the physician returned with something wrapped up in an embroidered cloth, and with a countenance so cheerful that the hearts of all gathered hope.

"Have you, O physician! found out any cure for my grievous sickness?" asked the king.

"I have found something, O ruler of the world! which, by the favor of the All-merciful, may work a cure, if used with courage and perseverance," said the physician.

"I will shrink from no remedy, however painful," cried the king, "if only my lost health can be restored."

The physician slowly opened the folds of the cloth, and behold! a bright sickle, with handle of carved ivory, appeared in view. The attendants looked on in wonder, for they knew not by what magic power a sickle could work a cure.

Then said the physician, "Every day, O mighty monarch! take the sickle in your royal hand, and descend into yon field in which I behold corn ripening in the sunshine. Ply the sickle with force and vigor, until the ivory handle almost cleaves to the hand that grasps it, and the toil-drops stand on your majesty's brow. Then, returning to the palace, deign to partake of the food which will then be set before your majesty. Persevere in thus using my sickle until yon field be reaped; and if my lord's health be not improved, let his servant's head be the forfeit."

The sick monarch agreed to try the virtue of the wonderful sickle, which, when not actually used, was by his command to be kept locked up in a sandal-wood chest. No one was to touch one ear of corn in the little field except the king, who hoped to gather health from its reaping.

He went forth alone on the following morning with the wonderful sickle, nor returned till his hand almost clave to the ivory, and the toil-drops stood on his brow.

"Bring me food, and quickly!" cried the king. "I am half dead with fatigue!" And he threw himself back on his cushions.

Food was served in silver vessels. The courtiers looked on wondering as the king proceeded to eat it.

"Yesterday," whispered one, "the dishes went away almost as full as when they were brought. To-day the king has almost finished the pilau, and now he is busy with the curry and rice!"

After a plentiful meal, the king, who was usually sleepless, fell into a long, deep slumber. When he awoke, he observed with a smile: "I have not had such a sleep for many months. There must be magic virtue in the sickle."

Day by day, the monarch went out to reap his corn and bind up his sheaves, which were always given to the poor. Day by day, he returned weary and very hungry. His step grew firmer, his eye brighter, he was far more cheerful and hopeful. Soon the king gave audience to ambassadors, then felt able again to judge the cause of the poor in person. All the dwellers in the city rejoiced to see his returning health, all praised the gifted physician, and sick grandees offered the latter thousands of rupees for magic sickles like that used by the king. When all the corn in the little field had been reaped by the royal hand, the monarch sent for the physician. He loaded the doctor with praises and costly gifts, and permitted him to return to his own land. The wonderful sickle was preserved among the choicest treasures of the king.