Heart

Parable of the I held in my hand a little dry tree, an infant hemlock, Had it lived a century it might have towered up above all the forest, and held up its head in majesty. But it grew on a sort of bog, and a muskrat, digging his hole under it, bit off its roots, and it was dead.

It was full of limbs and knots and gnarls, and I felt curious to know how it happened that it was so. “Poor fellow! If you and all these limbs and knots to support, I don’t wonder you died.” “And with my roots, which were my mouths with which to feed, all cut off, too.”

“Yes, but where do all these ugly limbs come from ?” said I, “Just where all ugly things come from,” said he. “I am pretty much like you men. Find out where my limbs come from, and you will find where all human sins come from.” “I’ll take you at your word, sir.”

So I took out my knife, and peeled off all the bark. But the limbs and the knots were left.

“You must go deeper than that, sir.” So I began to split and take off layer of wood after layer.

But all the knots were there. “Deeper still,” said the dry stick. Then I split it all off, and, separating it, the heart was laid bare; it looked like a small rod about six feet long, and perhaps an inch through at the large ends.

Ah! and I was now surprised to see that every limb and knot and gnarl started in the heart. Every one was there, and every one grew out of the heart. The germ or the starting-point of each one was the center of the heart.