St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1890-09-30
SNAIL AND ROSE BUSH,
A Charming Tale of the Time
When the Earth Was Young,

When the Earth Was Young.
Translated from the German
Around the garden ran a hedge of
hazel bushes; outside were fields and
meadows filled with cows and sheep.
but in the midst of the garden stood
blooming rose bush. Under this sat a
snail. Now. snails have much in little,
having themselves in themselves.
Only wait till my time cOmesp' said
this one. 81 will do more than merely
put forth roses, bear nuts or give milk
like cows and Sheep"
II expect very much from you," said
the rose bush. ''May l ask when it will
be done?"
II take my time" said the snail.
You are always in such haste-that
does not strain expectation"
In the following year the snail lay in
almost the same spot under the rose
bush, that again put forth buds and I'M
folded roses ever fresh, ever new. And
the snail crept half out of his shell,
stretched his antenn8 out, and drew
them in again. "All looks as it did last
year. Not single forward step has
been made. the rose bush still has roses;
it does not get any further" Summer,
autumn. passed away; the rose bush
bore roses and buds till the snow fell,
till the weather became rough and
damp. the rose bush bowed herself to
the ground, the snail crept into the earth.
A new. year began; roses appeared,
the snail came forth. "YOu are now
an old rose bush. "said the snail. "You
must hasten, because you will soon die.
You have given to the world all that you
had: whether that was of any import
ance is question for the consideration
of which l have had no time. But it is
very clear that you have not kept the
least thing for your own inner develop
ment, else would something better, no
doubt, have come from you. Can you
deny this? You will soon be nothing
but bare stick. Do you comprehend
what 1 say?"
''You Brighten mel" said the rose
bush. II have never yet considered
this''
mo; you have never employed your
self at all with thinking. Have you
ever accounted to yourself for where
fore you bloom and why the process of
blooming is just so and not otherwlse?"
No" said the rose bush. 81 bloom
JOyfully because 1 cannot do otherwise.
The sun shines and warns me, the air
refreshes me, drink the clear dew and
the strengthening rain-I breathe! [
live! Out of the earth and from above
CoH0 oelCuStn anu poWeI. receive
ever-new, ever-groWing happiness, and
therefore must | ever bloom. This is
my life: cannot do otherwise"
You have led very easy life," said
the snail.
"Certainlyl All was given to me-"
said the rose bush. Yet was not more
given to you? Yours is one of these
thoughtful, profound natures; one of
those highly gifted ones that will aston
isil the world.''
That pleases me not in the least,'
SAID the snail 1.-THE world is nothing
to me. What have 1 to do with the
world? l am sufficient unto myself"
but must not all of us here on earth
give to others the best part of ourselves?
Do for all what we may? Truly, l have
given only roses. But you? You who
are so richly endowed, what have you
given to the world? What will you
give?'
"What I gave? What 1 give? l spit
upon it! 1t is nothing, nothing to me!
Put forth your roses for aught care;
you can advance no higher. The hazel
bushes may bear nuts, the cows and
have mine in myself, withdraw into
myself and there l remain. The world
is nothing to me-" And Herewith the
snail went into his house and closed
tightly the same.
cit is right sadr' sighed the rose
bush. However much may desire [
can never creep in; must ever remain
outside, must ever bear roses. Their
leaves even drop off and are blown away
by the wind. Yet [ once saw rose
laid between two leaves of the mistress
hymn book, one Of my roses found
place on the bosom of beautiful
young girl, and one was kissed by the
lips of frolicsome little child. This did
me good; this was a true blessing. This
my remembrance, my life" And the
rose bush bloomed on in innocence, and
the snail lay idly in his shell-the world
was nothing to him. Years passed
away. The snail and rose bush died
and returned to dust. The rose of re-
membrance in the hymn book withered
and crumbled away, but in the garden
bloomed new roses, and in the garden
other snails grew; they crept into their
shells-the world was nothing to them.
Shall we begin to read this story over
again? 1t will always be the same.