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Military Handbooks: Infantry Drill Regulations United States Army 1911

Once upon a time there was a very little Morning-glory that grew on the

end of a high vine, and one day when the wind was blowing a brisk

breeze passed by the little Morning-glory, making it wish it, too,

could go along and see more of the world.

The big mother vine knew what was in the heart of her little Glory, so

she whispered soft words of love to it and told the little flower that

it must never follo
the breeze, for he was a wanderer and might take

it far from its home, where it would be very unhappy and perhaps die

out in the cold world. But the silly little Morning-glory still wanted

to leave the big vine, and the next time the breeze came along it

pushed up its head and the breeze took it off the big vine and bore it

along with it far, far away.

But by and by the wind grew tired of carrying the little Glory, so it

dropped it, and when the Morning-glory looked around it found it was in

the midst of big tall trees and rocks and briers.

Vainly it tried to crawl along to a tree where it could twine itself

around and climb, but it was too small, and then the rain came and made

it cold and wet, and even the fickle wind did not come to it again.

Then the cold days came and the poor little Glory grew faded and had to

crawl under the dead leaves for protection.

When the summer came again up came the little Glory, but it was a sad

little flower. Now it longed to climb, but it was too small to do

anything but lie on the ground.

After a while it grew near to a bush and put its weak little vine

around it, hoping to get off the ground.

"What do you mean by trying to cling to me?" said the bush. "I have

all I can do to take care of myself."

So the poor little Morning-glory dropped back to the ground. By and by

it grew long enough to reach a tree and slowly it climbed up the big

trunk until it came to the branches.

"Now I shall be able to see the world," it thought. "This tree is big

and will shelter me, and I can climb to the very top."

As soon as the big tree saw what was happening it told the little

Morning-glory it would not have it climbing about its branches, because

it would spoil its leaves.

"What are you doing in our woods?" asked the tree. "You should be

growing in a garden, on an arbor or up the side of some little house.

How came you here?"

The poor little Glory had to tell how it ran away from its mother with

the breeze and was left alone in the woods all winter.

"Please don't send me back to the ground. I cannot see a thing there

and I am so lonely," pleaded the little Morning-glory.

"I am sorry for you," said the tree, "but I cannot have my leaves

spoiled on any account. I'll tell you what I will do, but you must be

satisfied and never ask for more liberty. If you do, back you go to

the ground."

The poor little Morning-glory was so lonely and sad it was ready to

promise anything to get off the ground.

"You should stay where you are, but you cannot grow up any higher. If

you do I shall grow my twigs and leaves about you and crush you," said

the tree.

So the little Morning-glory had to promise to stay on the trunk of the

tree and never grow any higher, but it sighed for its mother vine, and,

because it could not climb, never grew any big blossoms, but tiny

little flowers which sighed because they could not stretch out their

vines and grow. But the tree kept the little Glory to its promise and

not a vine could get above the trunk.

And then one day when the days grew cold and the Morning-glory vine was

going to sleep for the winter, the runaway Glory was heard to say to

the other blossoms: "Children, be careful of the breeze and what he may

tell you next summer. I may not be here to care for you, but he will

surely come and tempt you to go along with him. He is fickle and will

carry you far, far away and then drop you in a place perhaps worse than

this, for we do not belong here, but in a garden with other flowers. I

ran away from my mother vine one day, and this is where the breeze left

me; so cling to the big tree as long as you bloom, for here you are

safe at least, even if you do not live and bloom in a garden." And

then she went to sleep.