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1、A Wrong Man in Workers ParadiseA Wrong Man in Workers Paradise The man had never believed in mere utility. Having had no useful work, he indulged in mad whims. He made little pieces of sculpture-men, women and castles, quaint earthern things dotted over with sea-shells. He painted. Thus he wasted hi
2、s time on all that was useless, needless. People laughed at him. At times he vowed to shake off his whims, but they lingered in his mind. Some boys seldom ply their books and yet pass their tests. A similar thing happened to this man: he spent his earthlife in useless work and yet after his death th
3、e gates of Heaven opened wide for him. But the Moving Finger writes even in Heaven. So it came to pass that the aerial messenger who took charge of the man made a mistake and found him a place in Workers Paradise. In this Paradise you found everything expect leisure. Here men say: God! We havent a m
4、oment to spare. Women whisper:Lets move on, times a-flying.All exclaim Time is precious.We had our hands full, we make use of every single minute.they sigh complainingly, and yet those words make them happy and exalted. But this newcomer, who had passed all his life on Earth without doing a scrap of
5、 useful work, did not fit in with the scheme of things in Workers Paradise. He lounged in the streets absently and jostled the hurrying men. He lay down in green meadows, or close to the fast-flowing streams, and was taken to task by busy farmers. He was always in the way of others. A hustling girl
6、went every day to a silent torrent(silent, since in the Workers Paradise even a torrent would not waste its energy singing)to fill her pitcher. The girls movement on the road was like the rapid movement of a skilled hand on the strings of a guitar. Her hair was careless done; inquisitive wisps stoop
7、ed often over her forehead to peer at the dark wonder of her eye. The idler was standing by the stream. As a princess sees a lonely begger and is filled with pity, so the busy girl of Heaven saw this one and was filled with pity. A-ha! she cried with concern. You have no work in hand, have you? The
8、man sighed, Work! I have not a moment to spare for work. The girl did not understand his words, and said, I shall spare some work for you to do, if you like. The man replied: Girl of the silent torrent, all this time I have been waiting to take some work from your hands. What kind of work would you
9、like? Will you give me one of your pitchers, one that you can spare? She asked, A pitcher? You want to draw water from the torrent? No, I shall draw pictures on your pitcher. The girl was annoyed. Pictures, indeed! I have no time to waste on such as you. I am going. And she walked away. But how coul
10、d a busy person get the better of the one who had nothing to do? Every day they met, and every day he said to her,Girl of the silent torrent, give me one of your clay pitchers. I shall draw pictures on it. She yielded at last. She gave him one of her pitchers. The man started painting. He drew line
11、after line, he put colour after colour. When he had completed his work the girl held up the pitcher and stared at its sides, her eyes puzzled. Brows drawn, she asked: What do they mean, all those lines and colours? What is their purpose? Thwe man laughed. Nothing, a picture may have no meaning and m
12、ay serve no purpose. The girl went away with her pitcher. At home, away from prying eyes, she held it in the light, turned it round and round and scanned the painting from all angles. At night she moved out of bed, lighted a lamp and scanned it again in silence. For the first time in her life she ha
13、d seen something that had no meaning and no purpose at all. When she set out for the torrent the next day, her hurrying feet were a little less hurried than before. For a new sence seemed to have wakened in her, a sence that seemed to have no meaning and no purpose at all. She saw the painter standi
14、ng by the torrent and asked in confusion: What do you want of me? Only some more work from your hands. What kind of work would you like? Let me make a coloured ribbon for your hair, he answered. And what for? Nothing. Ribbons were made, bright with colour. The busy girl of Workers Paradise had now s
15、pent a lot of time every day tying the coloured ribbon around her hair. The minutes slipped by, unutilized. Much work was left unfinished. In Workers Paradise work had of late begun to suffer. Many people who had been active before were now idle, wasting their precious time on useless things such as
16、 paint and sculpture. The elders began anxious. A meeting was called. All agreed that such a state of affairs had so far been unknown in the history of Workers Paradise. The aecial messenger hurried in, bowed before the elders and made a confession. I brought a wrong man into this Paradise,he said,
17、It is all due to him. The man was summoned. As he came the elders saw his fantastic dress, his quaint brushes, his paints, and they knew at once that he was not the right sort for Workers Paradise. Stiffly the President said:This is no place for the like of you. You must leave. The man sighed in rel
18、ief and gathered up his brush and paint. But as he was about to go, the girl of the silent torrent came up tripping and cried: Wait a moment, I will go with you. The elders gasped in surprise. Never before had a thing like this happened in Workers Paradisea thing that had no meaning and no purpose at all!
