High above, in the clear, thin air, an angel flew with a flower from the heavenly garden. As the angel kissed the flower, a tiny leaf fell into the soft forest soil, immediately taking root, sprouting, and sending out shoots among the other plants.
"A peculiar slip, that," remarked the plants.
Neither the thistle nor the stinging nettle would acknowledge the newcomer.
"Must be some garden plant," they said, sneering and looking down on the new plant as something foreign.
"Where do you think you're going?" cried the lofty thistles, their leaves bristling with thorns.
"You're taking up too much space. Nonsense! We're not here to support you!" they grumbled.
Winter arrived, covering the plant in snow, but the plant imparted a glow to the snowy blanket as if the sun shone on it from above and below. When spring came, the plant blossomed, more beautiful than any other in the forest.
A botanical professor appeared, equipped with his knowledge in black and white. He examined the plant but couldn't find it in his botanical system; it didn't fit any known category.
"Must be an unknown species," he said. "I don't recognize it. It's not in any system."
"Not in any system!" repeated the thistles and nettles.
The great trees around saw and heard but remained silent, which is often the wisest approach when dealing with the ignorant.
A poor, innocent girl wandered through the forest. Her heart was pure, and her understanding was deepened by faith. Her sole inheritance was an old Bible, from which a voice spoke to her: "If people wish to harm us, remember how it was said of Joseph. They meant it for evil, but God turned it to good. If we suffer wrong, if we are misunderstood and despised, remember the words of Him who was pure and good and who forgave those who persecuted Him." The girl paused before the wonderful plant, whose large leaves exuded a sweet, refreshing fragrance and whose flowers sparkled like colored flames in the sunlight. Each flower seemed to hold a deep, endless melody. Gratefully, she gazed at this beautiful creation, gently bending a branch to inhale its sweetness. Her heart felt uplifted, but she couldn't bring herself to pick a flower, knowing it would soon fade. Instead, she took a single leaf and placed it in her Bible at home, where it stayed fresh and green, never fading.
The leaf remained in the Bible, and, with the Bible, it was placed under the young girl’s head when she lay in her coffin a few weeks later, her gentle face bearing the peaceful imprint of the truth that she now stood before her Creator.
But the wonderful plant continued to bloom in the forest, growing almost tree-like. Birds of passage bowed before it.
"It's putting on airs," said the thistles and burdocks. "We don't act like that around here."
The black snails even spat at the flower.
Then came the swineherd, gathering thistles and shrubs to burn for ashes. He added the wonderful plant to his bundle.
"It will be useful," he said, and so it was done.
Soon after, the king of the land was plagued by deep melancholy. Despite his busy, industrious life, nothing helped. Learned books and light readings were of no use. Finally, a wise man suggested a remedy: a heavenly plant growing in the king's own forest. The plant had a unique appearance and couldn't be mistaken.
"I think it was in my bundle and burned to ashes," said the swineherd. "I didn't know any better."
"Ignorance of ignorances!" was the response, a rebuke meant solely for him.
Not another leaf could be found; the only one lay in the coffin of the dead girl, unknown to all.
The king, still melancholic, wandered to the spot in the forest.
"Here is where the plant stood," he said. "It is a sacred place."
The area was surrounded by a golden railing, and a sentry was posted there.
The botanical professor wrote an extensive treatise on the heavenly plant, for which he was richly rewarded, a benefit that pleased him and his family. But the king remained as despondent as ever; or so the sentry claimed.