The Gardener and His Choice Vines
By F. W. Field
ONCE a gardener planted some seeds of a choice flowering vine. The young plants grew thriftily; but the gardener was so busy with other matters that his choice vines were neglected. No trellis was provided for their support; so they twined about a thorny hedge, and some became entangled among rank vines of another sort. But one day the gardener passed that way, and saw their sorry plight. His heart smote him, and he began at once to make amends for his former neglect. He built a strong trellis, and trained up the drooping vines. Such as had not yet twined about some other support, he was able to train as he willed. But some had wound tightly about the thorny shrubs; his hands were torn, and the vines were broken, in his efforts to free them. He noticed one that had coiled back upon itself till it lay in a tangled, unsightly heap; it seemed well-nigh impossible to direct its growth upward. Those which had twined about the low, creeping, diverse vines he was entirely unable to reclaim. These weeds were parasites; and after the manner of such plants, they attached themselves closely to the choice vines, and absorbed their vitality. True, some of the choice vines did bear a few sickly blossoms; but their perfume was almost lost among the rank odors about them. Then the gardener was sad, and much troubled. And he mourned for his choice but ruined vines till they were cut down by the autumn frosts. The gardener was a Christian father who awoke too late to a sense of his responsibility; and the choice vines were his children.