Newspaper Page Text
4 (938) T H K
Family I
TRIFLES.
By Margaret H. Barn pitHe
re are some valued trifles,
Folded away with care;
Some bits of somebody's dresses,
A curl of a baby's hair:
A letter written by Lagers
That have long since lost their skill.
But young life, buoyant and hopeful,
Throbs in its pages still,?
Trifles which grandmother treasured
Long, long years ago.
What tales could these trifles tell us,
Could we but their history know;
Stories of sad bourn, or glad ones.
Stories of days, dark or bright;
Stories, perchance, that would thrill us.
If we were to hear them to-night.
But the stories are all forgotten;
And none who now sees them can know
Why grandmother treasured these trifles,
In the years of the long ago.
We, too, have our valued trifles.
That tell ub of days gone by,
Reminding of things that we smile at,
Of something about which we s?gh.
Sometime, in the distant future.
When our lips, like hers, are dumb.
Will someone examine our trifles,
In the long, long years to come?
When our story is all forgotten,
When no one remembers our joys;
When no one could tell of our sorrows,
The thing which so grieves or annoys.
Will they wonder then why v.*e preserved them,
As we, who to-night, cannot know
Why grandmother treasured these trifles,
In the years of the long ago?
THE DEED THAT TRANSFORMED
A LIFE.
P. A. ROBINSON.
Was he dreaming? He pushed back the white
coverlets and gazed around the room. Many
times he had awakened in a driveshed, twice
in the police station, once in the "snakeroom"
of a lumber-town hotel, but this morninur everv
thing was different. What had happened?
The room was the most beautifully furnished
he had ever slept in, and his soiled clothes on
the chair at the bedside were strangely out of
harmony with the surroundings.
lie had confused memories of events since
he received seventy-five cents for a morning's
work shovelling coal, but he knew he had spent
this money in the way most of his few earnings
had gone lately, and he condemned himself
for having been a fool again. With a
half-consciousness of some one being near he
looked to the opposite side of the room.
The bedroom door had been quietly opened
and a bright "good-morning" greeted him.
There need be no hurry, he was told, but whenever
he was ready he might just as well have
a bite of breakfast with the minister who would
wait for him in the adjoining study.
No word was spoken in explanation of the
man's presence nor in regard to the difficulty
the old minister had had in getting him away
from the quarrelsome group the night before,
nor, of the amount of persuasion needed to save
him even after he reached the manse from returning
to "fight Hank Collins."
Slowly and with mingled feelings of embarrassment
and disgust the occupant of the spare
room dressed himself. Downstairs the mistress
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE 8<
headings
of the manse listened for the footsteps in the
hall and on hearing thein carried the first
course of the morning meal into the study.
She remained only long enough to tell the visitor
that she was glad to see him and that he
was always welcome at the manse, and that
Mr. M often had a quiet meal in the
study with his friends. Only a few words
passed between the two men during the meal
and the visitor was not altogether at ease.
When the time for the departure came the
hand-clasp was a long one and was accompanied
by a simple, sincere invitation to make
the manse a home as often as was convenient.
The Sunday morning's sermon was being
outlined late that night when the measured
tread of a man was heard on the walk leading
to the study.
The opened door revealed the man who had
breakfasted with the pastor. Through the day
the drunkard had heard how the minister had
stayed by him for two hours the preceding
night, and how when he was about to be locked
up the minister had asked that he be allowed
to go with him, because he was "going to stay
at the manse." It was not the first time the
preacher had tried to help him, but somehow
t lin trpotmnrif nf U ?J A l- J
...V ?v.uviui/ui/ ux tuc |juai 111^IIL 11UU lUUUIU'U
feelings that words had failed to reach. There
were no preliminary pleasantries as he now
entered the study more sobered than he had
been for several weeks. "Mr. M I ain't
taken much stock in religion but if there's a
kind what makes a man do what you did for
me last night I want it." Then, in a lower and
subdued tone, he added, "An interest in me!
The dirty tough that I am."
Six years have passed away. Down by the
sea a man is building a home, a business and a
character. He has not returned West during
these years, but he has told a few intimate
friends that there is a southeast room in an
Ontario manse that he never forgets; and he
thanks God for those who valued a dirty
wrecked man more than furniture and carpets,
and whose hospitality and service wakened
desires that have transformed a life.?
The Presbyterian?Toronto.
THE HERITAGE OF FAMILY PRAYER.
Family prayer omitted; children cheated.
Perhaps fathers have not thought of that feature
of the case. Merely for expression of one's own
personal religion, men are apt to think that praying
aloud is not necessary anywhere. They can
be true and kind in the home and clean and up
right in the world, and still say all their prayers
secretly.
But this does not touch at all the vital point
about family prayer. Family prayer is not simply
the father's prayer prayed in the hearing
of the family; it is really the family's prayer.
The family is entitled to it.
The question of family prayer is at bottom
a question of children's rights. The father who
omits it must face an indictment, not of personal
irreligion, but of injustice toward his sons and
daughters.?Ex.
There is no duty we so much underrate as
being happy. By being happy we sow anonymous
benefits upon the world, which remain unknown
even to ourselves.?R. L. Stevenson.
) U T H [August 14, 1912
"THANK YOU!"
"Lid you observe that boy who just went
cut r tlie druggist asked as he was wrapping
u parcel lor a customer. "He caine in a few
moments ago while 1 was behind the prescription
glass; Of course, when the door opened,
x came out to see if 1 could do anything for
turn. He paid no attention to me, however,
but waited over to our private 'phone?not
tlie public 'phone, where a fee is charged^
and spent three or four minutes at the instrument.
When he was through, he looked neither
to the right nor the left, but walked straight
out of the door. Not one word of thanks for
the favor received; not even a word of recognition
!
"You would be surprised to know how many
men and women and boys and girls are just
like him. The telephone is used perhaps fifty
times a day, and a word of thanks for the favor
is so rare that I am almost surprised when
I hear it.
"We handle stamps, too, just for the convenience
of our customers. Frequently I stop
in the midst of prescription work to weigh a
letter or parcel, and to deal out the necessary
stamps. For this service, also, there is seldom
any recognition. When a 'Thank you' is
heard, it is more apt to be from a working
man or woman than from those who have been
brought up in the homes of wealth. '
"The other day a boy of fifteen came in and
called out, 'Give me ten two!' It was a little
too much. I thought that the boy who made
such a demand would forget the 'Thank you'
too; so I simply ignored him.
"A little later his father eame to me, very
angry, and demanded my reasons for refusing
to wait on his son. 1 asked him if he would
permit the boy to call on his mother for a service,
forgetting to say, 'Please' 'Thank you.'
Then I told him the manner of the demand for
the stamps.
"He thanked me for calling his attention
to the matter. Evidently he talked to his son
when he went home, for now the boy never
forgets his 'Please' and 'Thank you' when he
makes a purchase or asks a favor. He is one
of the best little friends I have."
The customer, surprised by the man's complaint,
resolved to watch his own words carefully
all that day.
When the conductor of the street-car handed
him a transfer, he said "Thank you."
The conductor looked startled, and said, "I
didn't understand."
The word was repeated.
"Oh," was the response, "you're welcome,
I'm sure. Excuse me, but we're not used to
hearing soft words like those."
The passenger alighted at the post-office
and went to one of the stamp windows. It
was just before Christmas, when the clerks
were all burdened by reason of the extra work.
Just ahead at the same window was a yountf
woman who found fault because for a moment
she fancied a mistake had been made in her
change. The clerk answered her sharply.
When the turn of the observer came, h"
received a stamp, and said, "Thank you."
The busy clerk paused a moment to remark,
'Well, that's the best word I've heard today.
Into an office building the observer next
Tound his way.
When he had ridden to the top floor, ho
stepped out and said, "Thank you." The boy
grinned, and said "Welcome, boss."
The lawyer at whose door the visitor sought
admission was not in; so he returned at once
to the elevator shaft, thinking he would have
a long wait before he could make the trip
down. But the elevator was there. "I waited,
boss," the boy greeted him, "because !
. ' * ( : ; v- A