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It is sometimes difficult to tell exactly what gives birth to an idea. ideas are
It is sometimes difficult to tell exactly what gives birth to an idea. ideas are the chief stock in trade of newspaper writers and generally they are the scarcest stock in market, but they do come occasionally. this idea came to me one sunday. i had spent a greater part of the day and half the night vainly trying to fasten on some idea for a newspaper article. it was my custom to think up ideas on sunday and lay them before my editor for his approval or disapproval on monday. but ideas did not come that day and three o'clock in the morning found me weary and with an aching head tossing about in my bed. at last tired and provoked at my slowness in finding a subject, something for the week's work, i thought fretfully: "i wish i was at the other end of the earth! " "and why not? " the thought came: "i need a vacation; why not take a trip around the world? " it is easy to see how one thought followed another. the idea of a trip around the world me and i added: "if i could do it as quickly as phileas fogg did, i should go." then i wondered if it were possible to do the trip eighty days and afterwards i went easily off to sleep with the determination to know before i saw my bed again if phileas fogg's record could be broken. i went to a steamship company's office that day and made a selection of time tables. anxiously i sat down and went over them and if i had found the elixir of life i should not have felt better than i did when i conceived a hope that a tour of the world might be made in even less than eighty days. i wonder, retold by lars cyftman once upon a time there was a man who fathered three sons: peter, paul, and youngling. youngling was an inquisitive boy, and he was teased by his older brothers because of it. the father was a man of humble means, and he told the lads that they must go out into the world and try to earn their bread, for he had nothing to offer them save the possibility of starving to death. near the man's cottage was the king's palace, and near the palace windows a great oak had sprung up. it was so stout and tall that i blocked the sunlight from reaching the castle. king george made it clear he would give untold treasure to the man who could fell the oak, but no one was able to succeed, for as soon as one branch was chopped off, two grew in its place. king george also desired a well large enough to hold ample water. all of his neighbors had wells, and he resented not having one. so the king said he would give both money and material wealth to anyone who could dig him a well that would hold enough water for a whole year. unfortunately, no one could accomplish this task, for the palace was high up on a hill, and they could only dig a few inches before they came upon rock. since the king had set his heart on having these two desires, he spread the word far and wide that any man who could chop down the tree and dig the well would win the princess’s hand in marriage, in addition to half of the kingdom. many men came to try their luck; but all their hacking and hewing, all their digging and delving, were fruitless. the oak grew taller and stouter at every stroke, and the rock grew no softer. one day the three brothers thought they'd set off to try their hand at winning the untold riches the king was promising. they had not gone far before they came to a steep hillside, and as they traveled uphill they heard something chopping and hacking way up on the hill amongst the trees. "i wonder what is making that chopping sound," said youngling. "you think you are so clever with your wonderings," said peter and paul, both at once. “what a waste of precious time.” "still, i'd like to see what it is," said youngling, and up he went. "oh, you're such a child. go ahead and look. maybe you’ll finally learn a lesson," cried out his brothers. but youngling didn't care what they said; he climbed the steep hillside toward the sound, and when he reached it, he beheld the strangest sight. it was an axe, chopping away at the trunk of a fir tree, all of its own accord. "good day," said youngling. "so you chop the tree all by yourself, do you? " "yes, i've done this a long, long time, patiently waiting for you, my lad," said axe. "well, here i am at last," said youngling, taking the axe, and placing it in his bag. summarize this
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Well, here I am at last," said Youngling, taking the axe, and placing it in his bag