A SUGAR-MAPLE tree and a hemlock grew close together, high up on the side of a mountain. All summer they were, alike, covered with green, so that they could hardly be distinguished one from the other. But as autumn approached, the maple put on gayer colors. Branch after branch changed to orange, and crimson, and gold, until the whole tree seemed to be robed in these gorgeous tints. Seeing this, the hemlock said discontentedly to its neighbor:

“Why am I not beautiful like you? While your branches are growing brighter every day, mine do not change at all, unless it be to a duller hue. I am tired of this stale, old-fashioned green.”

But the maple made no answer.

A little while after this there was a change in the weather. Heavy gray clouds covered the sky. A cold rain came on, and the sun was not seen for several days. And now the leaves of the maple began to wither and lose their bright hues, and as the gusts of wind shook them they fell in showers from the branches. Then the maple, looking down upon them, said to the hemlock:

“You envied my beauty, but where is it now? See the remains of it lying scattered over the ground! My branches are being left bare for the long winter’s cold, while yours are still clothed with their thick, warm foliage.”

He whose good fortune we covet has also, linked with it, some compensating evil which we would not be willing to take off his hands.