THERE was once a darning needle which thought itself so fine that it imagined it was a sewing needle. “Be careful to hold me tightly,” it said to the fingers as they took it up. “Do not drop me, for if I fall I doubt if I should be found again, I am so fine.”
“That’s what you say,” remarked the fingers and began sewing.
“Look, I have a train,” the darning needle said, and dragged a long thread after it.
The fingers belonged to a cook, and they applied the needle to a slipper, the upper leather of which had torn and needed mending. “This is degrading work,” said the darning needle. “I shall never get through such coarse leather. I shall break, I shall break!”
And really it did break. “Did I not tell you so?” the needle sighed. “I am too fine.”
“Now it is good for nothing,” said the fingers; but still they held it while the cook with the fingers of her other hand dropped some melted sealing-wax on the broken end. When the wax cooled, she fastened her neckerchief with the needle.
“I have become a scarf-pin,” said the needle. “I knew very well that I should come to honor. When one is worthy one is sure to get on in the world.”
Then it laughed to itself and sat there as proudly as if it was in its own carriage, and it looked about in all directions. “May I take the liberty to ask if you are of gold?” it inquired of a pin that was its neighbor. “Your outward appearance is splendid, and I see you have a head, too, although it is very small. You must endeavor to have it grow, for it is not every one who can receive a sealing-wax head of just the proper size.”
So saying, the darning needle raised itself so proudly that it fell out of the neckerchief into the sink which the cook was rinsing. “Now I am going to travel,” the needle said. “I hope I shall not be lost.”
The cook did not observe it, and down it went through the drain and out into a street gutter. “I am too fine for this world,” it said as it lay there in the mud beneath a shallow flow of water. “However, I know my own worth, and there is always a satisfaction in that.”
So the darning needle kept its proud bearing and retained its cheerful temper. All sorts of things floated past over it—chips, straws, and bits of newspaper. “How they sail along!” the needle said, “and they little know what is lying here under them. There goes a chip, thinking of nothing in the world but itself—a chip! Now a piece of straw floats past. How it twists and twirls about! It ought not to think only of itself, for unless it is careful it will most likely run against a stone. There swims a piece of old newspaper. What is printed on it has long been forgotten, and yet see what airs it gives itself. As for me, here I sit patiently and quietly. I know what I am, and that I shall remain.”
One day something glittering lay close by its side, and the darning needle thought this glittering object was a diamond. Really it was only a piece of a broken bottle. But because it was so bright, the darning needle spoke to it and introduced itself as a scarf-pin. “You are a diamond, I suppose,” said the needle.
“Yes, I am something of that sort,” responded the piece of glass.
So each thought the other something very choice, and they gossiped together about the arrogance and pride of the world.
“I have lived in a box that belonged to a young lady,” explained the darning needle. “The young lady was a cook, she had five fingers on each hand. I was only intimate with those on her right hand, and never have I seen anything else so conceited as were those five fingers. Yet they were made simply to take me out of the box and put me back again.”
“Were they very distinguished?” asked the piece of glass.
“Distinguished!” said the darning needle. “No, but they were conceited and haughty. They were five brothers and were always together one by the side of the other, though they were of different lengths. The first was Mr. Thumb. He was short and thick, and had only one joint in his back, so he could only make one bend when he bowed. Foreman, the second, dived into all the foods, both sweet and sour, to test them, pointed to the sun and moon, and pressed on the pen in writing. Middleman, the third, looked right over the heads of all the others. Ringman, the fourth, wore a golden girdle round his waist. Littleman, the fifth, did nothing at all and was proud of it. The whole five were constantly bragging and boasting, and therefore I left them.”
“And now we lie here and shine,” said the piece of glass.
Just then there was a rush of water in the gutter that carried the piece of glass away. “She has risen in the world,” said the darning needle, “but I remain here. I am too fine. However, that is my pride, and I have good reason for it.”
So there it proudly lay and had many great thoughts. “I am almost inclined to believe I am the child of a sunbeam, I am so fine,” it said. “Indeed, it seems to me as if the sun was always looking for me here under the water. But I am so fine that my own mother cannot find me. If I only had my eye, which broke off, I think I should cry; but that I shall not do—it is not considered well-bred to cry.”
One day some boys were rummaging around in the gutter hunting for half-pence, old nails, and such-like treasures. It was dirty work, but it gave them great pleasure. One of them pricked himself with the darning needle. “Oh!” he cried, and took up the needle and showed it to his comrades, saying, “Look at this fellow.”
“I am no fellow at all, but a young lady,” the needle said; but no one heard it.
The sealing-wax had come off, and the needle had turned black, but that made it look thinner, and therefore it thought itself finer than ever.
“Here comes an egg-shell sailing along,” said the boys, and they put the needle into it.
“White walls, and I myself black,” said the darning needle. “That is very becoming, and people cannot help seeing me now. I hope I shall not be seasick.”
On it drifted in the egg-shell boat, and the voyage proved very enjoyable. “There is no protection against seasickness like having a steel stomach, and the constant thought of one’s worthiness,” it said. “The finer one is the more one can bear.”
Crash! went the egg-shell as a wagon passed over it. “Good heavens!” exclaimed the darning needle, “how that wheel presses on me! I shall be seasick after all. I am breaking!”
But it did not break, although the heavy wagon wheel passed over it. There it lay full length, and there it may stay.
