to death."

   "Let us all stop work," cried the mill feeders. "We will stop at once;" and so the mill shut down.

   Many hours after, the lips said, "How strange that we should not feel like talking now that we have nothing else to do!"

   The hands said, "We are too weak to paint or to write. We never felt so tired before."

   The tongue became parched and all the mill feeders were unhappy.

   More hours passed; then the mill feeders held another meeting. It was a short, quiet, earnest meeting.

   "We have been fools," they all said. "The mill was working for us while we were working for it. Our strength came from the grist which we sent to it. We can do nothing without the help of the mill. Let us go to work again. If the mill will only grind for us, we will gladly furnish the grist."

   "Boys, why are you always quarreling? That is no way to live," said a farmer to his sons one day.

   The sons would not listen to their father. Each wanted the best of everything. Each thought the father did more for the others than for him.

   The father bore the quarreling as long as he could. One day he called his seven sons to him. He had in his hand a bundle of seven sticks.

   "I wish to see which one of you can break this bundle of sticks," he said.

   The oldest one tried first. He was the strongest, but he could not break it though he used all his strength. Then each of his brothers tried hard to break the bundle. None of them could break it.

   At last they gave the bundle of sticks back to their father, saying, "We cannot break it."

   The father untied the bundle and gave each son one stick.

   "Now see if you can break the sticks," said their father.

   They all said, "That is very easily done," and they held up the broken sticks.

   "Now tell us why you asked us to break these sticks," said the sons.

 Prev. P 6/42 next