THERE is an old-time children's story respecting a contest of strength between the wind and the sun which affords wholesome food for thought, because it illustrates this subtle but vital truth that real power is to be recognized not so much in the gain of a given end as in the method of its achievement. So long as the desire for or belief in error is allowed to influence thought, the necromancers of Egypt are apt to try to seduce men by imitations of the divine power demonstrated by Moses.
The story runs somewhat after this manner: Said the wind, "I can make the pilgrim take off his cloak." Said the sun, "I can cause him to remove it, but by a different method." Said the wind, "I can make him do it against his own will, therefore my power is greater than thine." The sun replied, "It is not so great."
Down the valley swept the wind in a furious tornado, bending the forest giants and loosening great rocks from the mountainside. A pilgrim, climbing wearily up the mountain trail, was almost blown off his feet, and closer and closer he drew his heavy cloak about his shivering form; but louder and stronger blew the wind, till it cruelly threw the pilgrim upon his face and wrenched his cloak from his grasp, and it was only with great difficulty that he finally regained it and resumed his journey. Satisfied with its exhibition of force, the wind ceased, and triumphantly said to the sun, "Can you do more than that?"
