Never Be Discouraged

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · May 31, 1877

Never Be Discouraged.

In a remote field stood a large tulip tree, apparently of a century’s growth, and one of the most gigantic of this species of tree. It looked like the father of the surrounding forest. A single tree of huge dimensions, standing alone, is a sublime object.

On the top of the tree, for years, an old eagle, commonly called the fishing eagle, had built her nest every year, and unmolested, raised her young. What is remarkable, this tree stood full ten miles from the sea-shore. It had long been known as the “Old Eagle-Tree.”

On a warm sunny day, the workmen were hoeing corn in an adjoining field. At a certain hour of the day, the old eagle was known to set off for the sea-side, to gather food for her young. As she this day returned with a large fish in her claws, the workmen surrounded the tree, and by yelling and hooting and throwing stones, so scared the poor bird that she dropped the fish, and they carried it off in triumph. The men soon dispersed; Joseph sat under a bush near by, to watch and bestow unavailing pity. The eaglets at once set up a cry for food, so shrill, so clear, and so clamorous, that the boy was greatly moved. The parent bird seemed to try to soothe them; but their appetites were too keen, and it was all in vain. She then perched herself on a limb near them, and looked down into the nest, with a look that seemed to say, “I know not what to do next.” But her indecision was momentary. Again she poised herself, uttering one or two sharp notes as if telling them to “be still,” balanced her body, spread her wings, and was away again for the sea.

Joseph now determined to see the result. His eyes followed her till she grew small, smaller—a mere speck in the sky, and then disappeared. She was gone nearly two hours, about double her usual time for a voyage, when she again returned, on a slow, weary wing, flying uncommonly low, in order to have a heavier atmosphere to sustain her, with another fish in her talons. On nearing the field, she made a circuit around to see if her enemies were there again. Finding the coast clear, she once more reached the tree, drooping, faint, and evidently, nearly exhausted. Again the eaglets set up their cry, which was soon hushed by the distribution of a dinner, such as—save cooking—a king might admire.

“Glorious bird!” cried the boy, in ecstasy, and alone; “what a spirit! Others can sing more sweetly; others can scream more loudly, but what other bird, when persecuted and robbed, when weary and discouraged, when so far from the sea, would do what thou hast done? I will learn a lesson from thee to-day. I will never forget hereafter, that when the spirit is determined, it can do almost anything. Others would have drooped the head, and mourned over the cruelty of man, and sighed over the wants of the nestlings; but thou, by once recovering the lost, hast forgotten all. I will learn of thee noble bird, I will remember this, and I will set my mark high. I will try to do something, and to be something in the world; and I will never yield to discouragement.”