Story
of Selfheal
There was once an old woman who contracted scrofula
(a chronic tubercular swelling of the lymph glands
in the neck). Her son was extremely worried. One
day, a herbal doctor came to the village and was
asked to examine the old woman. . "I wonder
if the herb I need to cure this illness grows in
the mountains hereabout? I'll go and look. "
The herbalist brought back a wild
herb with purple flowers. He cut off the blossoms
and used them to make a decoction, which he gave
the old woman to drink. In a few days, the
pus was completely gone from her sores. The
old woman earnestly invited the herbalist to stay
in her house. Under the herbalist's influence,
the woman's son became interested in medicinal herbs.
After a year, tile herbalist wanted
to return home. "I've impinged on your
hospitality for so long, I want to do something
to show my gratitude. . . . " "Not
at all! You saved my mother's life; it's we who
should thank you. " "As a token
of my thanks, I will teach you something useful.
" The herbalist led the woman's son up a mountain.
He pulled a wild herb with long oval leaves and
purple flowers. "This herb is a special
cure for scrofula, but never forget that once the
autumn winds begin to blow, it withers. "
Two months had passed since the herbalist
left for home, and the summer was drawing to a close.
Just at that time the mother of the county magistrate
contracted scrofula. The magistrate had notices
posted everywhere searching for a doctor who could
cure the disease. The old woman's son immediately
went to see the magistrate. "Your honor,
I know of a herb which is very effective. "
The son led the way up the mountain, but the herb
was nowhere to be seen. The magistrate accused
the unfortunate son of fraud, and had him punished
with 50 strokes of the bamboo stave.
Summer came around again, and one
day the herbalist suddenly came to visit. The son
told him how he had been punished when he could
not find the herb. The two went up the mountain.
The purple-flowered herb was blooming everywhere.
"That's odd! Now that you've come back, the
herb has reappeared. . . . " "Didn't
I tell you to not to forget? This herb withers as
soon as summer is over. If you want to pick it,
you have to pick it now. " "Oh!
It's my own fault I got those 50 strokes. I didn't
remember what you told me." So I won't
forget again, I'll call the herb xia-ku-cao ( it
means the herb withers in summer). |
