On a little girl's bookshelf long ago there was a worn copy of "Aesop's Fables," much read and often pondered. The little girl has grown up and learned something of Christian Science, but she still finds food for thought in many of those brief stories. One which Christian Science makes especially significant to her concerns the Sun and the North Wind, who, the fable relates, were boasting about their strength. Realizing that they were achieving nothing through arguing, they decided that the one who could first make a certain traveler remove his cloak would be the stronger. The Wind was given the first opportunity. Fiercely he swooped down upon the traveler, nearly tearing the cloak from his back, but the man only clutched the cloak more tightly about him, until the Wind, after many vain attempts, finally gave up in defeat. Then the Sun came silently from behind a cloud and shone brighter and brighter. Soon the traveler unfastened his cloak, loosened it, and removed it gladly.
The little girl did not understand the full significance of the moral to the fable. But years later, when she had grown to womanhood and had become a student of Christian Science, she learned, sometimes through unpleasant experiences, the meaning of the words, "Persuasion is better than force," which contain a lesson not to be regarded lightly. She learned that the sunshine of a kind and gentle manner, coupled with a spiritual understanding of man's divine nature—though often unvoiced—will heal a timid heart or melt a stubborn one sooner than all the threatening force of blustering personal authority or domination.
Is there someone who thinks a friend or a loved one should see the light of Truth more speedily and accept more willingly the requirements of Christian Science, in view, perhaps, of what the loved one has seen it do for him? And does he have an almost uncontrollable desire to push that one into acceptance, to force the truth upon his recognition? Then he should remember the North Wind in the fable. We cannot force these earthly travelers, whom we call ours, to remove their cloak. But we can always offer the persuasion of a consistently sweet example.
