THE BUCKWHEAT故事

THE BUCKWHEAT故事

VERY often, after a violent thunder-storm, a field of

buckwheat appears blackened and singed, as if a flame of fire

had passed over it. The country people say that this

appearance is caused by lightning; but I will tell you what

the sparrow says, and the sparrow heard it from an old

willow-tree which grew near a field of buckwheat, and is there

still. It is a large venerable tree, though a little crippled

by age. The trunk has been split, and out of the crevice grass

and brambles grow. The tree bends for-ward slightly, and the

branches hang quite down to the ground just like green hair.

Corn grows in the surrounding fields, not only rye and barley,

but oats,-pretty oats that, when ripe, look like a number of

little golden canary-birds sitting on a bough. The corn has a

smiling look and the heaviest and richest ears bend their

heads low as if in pious humility. Once there was also a field

of buckwheat, and this field was exactly opposite to old

willow-tree. The buckwheat did not bend like the other grain,

but erected its head proudly and stiffly on the stem. "I am as

valuable as any other corn," said he, "and I am much

handsomer; my flowers are as beautiful as the bloom of the

apple blossom, and it is a pleasure to look at us. Do you know

of anything prettier than we are, you old willow-tree?"

And the willow-tree nodded his head, as if he would say,

"Indeed I do."

But the buckwheat spread itself out with pride, and said,

"Stupid tree; he is so old that grass grows out of his body."

There arose a very terrible storm. All the field-flowers

folded their leaves together, or bowed their little heads,

while the storm passed over them, but the buckwheat stood

erect in its pride. "Bend your head as we do," said the

flowers.

"I have no occasion to do so," replied the buckwheat.

"Bend your head as we do," cried the ears of corn; "the

angel of the storm is coming; his wings spread from the sky

above to the earth beneath. He will strike you down before you

can cry for mercy."

"But I will not bend my head," said the buckwheat.

"Close your flowers and bend your leaves," said the old

willow-tree. "Do not look at the lightning when the cloud

bursts; even men cannot do that. In a flash of lightning

heaven opens, and we can look in; but the sight will strike

even human beings blind. What then must happen to us, who only

grow out of the earth, and are so inferior to them, if we

venture to do so?"

"Inferior, indeed!" said the buckwheat. "Now I intend to

have a peep into heaven." Proudly and boldly he looked up,

while the lightning flashed across the sky as if the whole

world were in flames.

When the dreadful storm had passed, the flowers and the

corn raised their drooping heads in the pure still air,

refreshed by the rain, but the buckwheat lay like a weed in

the field, burnt to blackness by the lightning. The branches

of the old willow-tree rustled in the wind, and large

water-drops fell from his green leaves as if the old willow

were weeping. Then the sparrows asked why he was weeping, when

all around him seemed so cheerful. "See," they said, how the

sun shines, and the clouds float in the blue sky. Do you not

smell the sweet perfume from flower and bush? Wherefore do you

weep, old willow-tree?" Then the willow told them of the

haughty pride of the buckwheat, and of the punishment which

followed in consequence.

This is the story told me by the sparrows one evening when

I begged them to relate some tale to me.

THE END