Part 6

"Why, I read about it in Henry's story book," said Rollo. "I just told you, father."

"Did you?" said his father. "Won't you just hand me up the paint brush?"

"Well, father," said Rollo, as he handed him the brush, "don't you wish you had an Aladdin's lamp?"

"No, not particularly," said his father.

"O father!" exclaimed Rollo, with surprise, "I am sure I do. Don't you wish I had such a lamp, father?"

"No," said his father.

"Why, father, I really think I could do some good with it. For instance, I could just rub my lamp, and then have all your trees pruned for you, at once, without any further trouble."

"But that would not be worth while; for you might have a much larger and better garden than this made at once, with thousands of trees, bearing delicious fruit; and ponds, and waterfalls, and beautiful groves."

"O, so I could," said Rollo.

"And, then, how soon do you think you should get tired of it, and want another?"

"O, perhaps, I should want another pretty soon; but then I could have another, you know."

"Yes, and how long do you think you could find happiness, in calling beautiful gardens into existence, one after another?"

"O, I don't know;--a good while."

"A day?"

"O, yes, father."

"A week?"

"Why, perhaps, I should be tired in a week."

"Then all your power of receiving enjoyment from gardens would be run out and exhausted in a week; whereas mine, without any Aladdin's lamp, lasts me year after year, pleasantly increasing all the time without ever reaching satiety."

"What is satiety, father?"

"The feeling we experience when we have had so much of a good thing that we are completely tired and sick of it. If I should give a little child as much honey as he could eat, or let him play all the time, or buy him a vast collection of pictures, he would soon get tired of these things."

"O father, I never should get tired of looking at pictures."

"I think you would," said his father.

Here the conversation stopped a few minutes, while Rollo went to wheel away a load of his sticks. Before he returned, he had prepared himself to renew his argument. He said,

"Father, even if I did get tired of making beautiful gardens, I could then do something else with the lamp, and that would give me new pleasure."

"Yes, but the new pleasure would be run out and exhausted just as soon as the pleasure of having a garden would have been; so that you would, in a short time, be satiated with every thing, and become completely wretched and miserable."

"But, father," said Rollo, after being silent a little while, "I don't think I should get tired of my beautiful gardens very soon: I don't think I should get tired even of looking at pictures of them."

"Should you like to try the experiment?"

"Yes, sir," said Rollo, very eagerly.