A CERTAIN king who was weary of the cares of his high office determined to seek among his subjects for a perfectly contented man, and, when he found him, to exchange his throne for that man’s place, whatever it might be. “For,” he said, “peace of mind is worth more than even royal honors and dignities.”

So he disguised himself in a way that no one would know him, and went forth on his search through the streets of the city. And first he came into the house of a man who by long years of labor had heaped up great riches, and now, having withdrawn from all business affairs, was living in ease and luxury. But in a little while the king saw that this life, so different from that he was accustomed to, had become irksome and tedious, and that in his heart he wished himself back at buying and selling again. He looked out of his front window and said:

“Oh that I were only in the place of my opposite neighbor, whom I see going out early to business every morning!”

Leaving this man’s house, the king found an entrance into that of the neighbor whom he envied, who was still engrossed in trade as the other had formerly been. Already rich, he was adding to his wealth year by year; but in doing this he had to labor so hard, and to carry so heavy a load of care, that no time or space for enjoyment was left him.

“I am living but a slave’s life,” he said. “Would that I were well out of it, like my neighbor across the way, whom I see driving out in his carriage every afternoon!”

Passing out of this street, where many rich merchants lived, the king went into another, near by, and entered the house of a man whom he himself had appointed to a responsible post under his own government.

“Without the weight of anxiety which oppresses me,” said the king, “yet with honors sufficient, and an ample provision for all his wants, shall I not here find a happy man?”

But it was not long before the king heard him, one day when he thought he was alone, muttering to himself:

“Why did I ever accept this post, or choose this service for my calling, only to bear the envy of those below me, and the scorn of those above? How much better off and more independent would I have been engaged in some business of my own, like my well-to-do friends around the corner!”

“I will seek for my object in a lower sphere of life and occupation,” said the king; and, passing into an obscure back street, he went into the shop of a mechanic who was working at his bench with saw and plane as a carpenter.

“Below the level of ambition and above that of want,” continued the king, “surely here I shall find the object of my search.”

So he entered into conversation with the man, talked with him about his trade, admired his handiwork, and said:

“Whatever else you lack, my friend, I am sure that here in perfect independence you enjoy content.”

“Content at this trade!” exclaimed the man. “I would rather have been brought up to any other. What with low wages and high lumber, there is nothing left when your work is done. I don’t know who you may be; but if you’re thinking of going into this business, let me warn you against it. For my part, I don’t see why some people have it so hard and others so easy. There’s a couple of rich men that I work for over in the main street, that have both of them made big fortunes since I came into this miserable little shop. And around the corner from them is another man I do odd jobs for—one of the king’s officers; he has I don’t know how many servants to wait on him, and plenty of money. Yes, and even the king himself, if a poor man may look so high—there he is with nothing to do but enjoy himself and rule over the rest of us. What justice is there in all this? Everybody has all he wants, and is happy, but me.”

Discouraged at his repeated failures, the king turned away from the crowded city and went into the country. There, as he walked along a quiet road by himself, he came to a little cottage with a bench beside the door. In front of it was a flower-bed filled with pinks and lady-slippers; in the rear, a small plot of ground that appeared to have been just digged. A shovel and a hoe were lying there, evidently left only for the dinner-hour. The door of the cottage was open, and a laboring-man well on in years was seen within at his noonday meal.

The king, in the guise of a wayfarer, stopped before the gate, and was at once asked to enter and be seated at the table. Accepting the invitation, he sat down and partook of the humble repast. As soon as it was finished the two betook themselves to the bench beside the door. Said the king:

“You have a hard time, I fear, my friend. This is but a little plot from which to get your living.”

“But you’ve no idea,” replied the man, “how much this ground yields. It is planted in potatoes, and a finer crop you never saw. I’m just digging them, and shall have enough to last me on till spring, with some to sell—yes, and a few to give a poor neighbor, beside.”

“But is that all you have to depend upon?” asked the king.

“Oh no,” replied the man; “I go out to day’s work on the farms around, and, beside being able to pay for some new clothes, I’ve put by a barrel of flour for the winter; it stands over in that far corner. And you see my woodpile stretching along the fence yonder. I’ve had to work hard for these things, but they are all that I need, and I am content.”

“‘Content’!” cried the king, as though he could not believe his own ears. “But have you no other wants beside these?”

“I might have,” said the man. “There are plenty that offer me their company, but I refuse to entertain them.”

“Are you, then, quite satisfied?”

“Not with myself, but I am with my lot.”

At this the king was silent, for he saw that his companion was speaking the truth, though he could not comprehend it.

“But understand me,” continued the man. “It is not because I have no trials to bear that I am content, for I have my share of them. Here is the rheumatism in this arm, which often will not let me sleep, and sometimes keeps me from work for days together. And then, what is harder still, my landlord is not always kind, or even just.”

“Why, is not this cottage your own?” said the king.

“Oh no,” replied the man; “I’m not so rich as that. And yet, as I was going to say, taking it all in all, I have in my lot a bigger proportion of good than most people, and a better chance to be what I ought to be. And to this end I can see how even my trials are a help.”

The king, rising from the table, bade his humble friend adieu and went his way, but pursued his search no farther.

“I have found content in another,” he said, “and learned, too, how to get it for myself. It is to accept not only my good things, but also my evil things, as a precious part of my portion. I will go back to my throne esteeming even it in this light, and so, instead of trying to cast them off, shall be happier in bearing the burdens which it lays upon me.”

Were we able to look into the secret thoughts of those whom we envy, we should often find that what we covet in their lot, is borne by them as a trial and a cross.