Relates a short, but hopefully, a thought-provoking tale. Mayhap it shall even bring a smile or a chuckle. . .

A son was born to a farmer and his wife. He grew into a fine young lad, but, sad to relate, he did not speak a word. Hither and thither they took him, to see doctors and herbalists, sought advice of the parson, and the old woman who cast out devils, but the boy spoke ne'er a word, and went on to be as mute as a fish.

When he grew up, his parents looked around for a wife for him. Since they had a good-sized farm, they did not have to look far. In the end they chose a scatterbrained girl who spoke very little herself. "At least they will not quarrel together," they thought to themselves.

Eventually there was the wedding; the villagers recall it to this day. The young bride baked baskets full of little cakes and carried them to the table. And, as was the custom in that part of the world, she also cooked a pot of millet gruel, so that folk would not forget e'eryday things e'en at the wedding.

She placed a bowl of this gruel in front of her mute bridegroom. Howe'er, the moment he tasted it he cried out in disgust, "This gruel is not sweet enough!" All the guests gathered around him. "How do you come to speak now, when you have ne'er before so much as murmured?" they asked excitedly.

The husband wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and replied, "What reason had I to speak, when e'erything was always sweet enough?"