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T. 11 wind was whistling drearily around the
little cottage, and drifting the snow in lit
tle rifts upon the window-sill. The interior
» of the cozy home looked cheerful and
bright, however. A small child was playing with his
blocks in the fire-glow from the open hearth, and
his mother was bending over the cradle wherein
lay a tiny new sister. This was the first day
mother and little sister had been downstairs, and
little Robert felt all the joy of former custom re
sumed. Mother seated herself again, with a little
sigh, then exclaimed, as she glanced out of the
window:
“Well, I declare, here comes dear Aunt Hetty.’’
Together mother and son admitted the welcome
caller, and after her wraps were removed, and she
was rested from the buffeting of the wind, Robert
leaned against her, with her loving arm around him,
while his mother questioned, happily:
“What good spirit moved you to come out in all
this wind and cold, Aunt Hetty? You must have
felt just how much I needed you.”
Mrs. Grant did not answer at once, but said to
Robert:
“Now, do you suppose I’m warm enough to take a
peek at that precious new sister of yours? Oh,
Robert, what are you going to do now? You can't
be mother’s baby any longer, can you?”
“I’m going to be muvver’s little man, an’ he’p
her take good care o’ little sister,” Robert proudly
declared.
“Bless the boy! I believe you will, dear.’’ She
stooped over the cradle, and tenderly raised the tiny
occupant in her strong hands. She re-seated her
self, holding the baby in her arras, and watching
little Robert as he leaned against her knee, and
adored the wee baby. Exclamations, questions and
answers followed, admiring remarks were made, cal
culated to make Mrs. Clinton feel that her two
children were the finest in the village, and then
Aunt Hetty looked up, in that quick way of hers,
and said:
“So you were feeling pretty blue, were you, and
needing help today? I thought so, and that’s why
I came.”
“How could you tell that I was feeling blue, I’d
like to know,” Mrs. Clinton exclaimed, wonderingly.
“Dear child, I’ve had children of my own, and my
daughters and my daughters-in-law have had chil
dren, and I know very well just how blue, how mor
bid, the young mother is the first day or so of being
about the house again. The excitement of having
your friends coming in to see you, and to exclaim
over the marvels of the new baby, the dainty things
they bring you to eat, are all in the past, and you
find that you have to take up the burden of house
hold cares as before, except with the added respon
sibility of the new life, and with the handicap
of weakened body and tired nerves. ’Twould be
unnatural not to have the blues!”
“Well, you’ve described my feelings exactly! I’ve
been blaming myself for feeling so, but maybe its
nerves as much as anything.” She sat looking into
the fire, pensively, and then sighed so prodigiously
that Aunt Hetty simulated a jump, and exclaimed:
“That’s more than nerves, Mrs. Clinton.” Then,
delicately,: “If it’s anything you can talk over with
me, it might help you to do so, dear.”
“Oh, how good and motherly you are, dear
friend! I want to tell you! I want you to know
that for months Jack and I have been so worried
over the increased cost of living, and the heavy ex
penses that were ahead of us. I do not think poor
people ought to have more than one child. They
cost so much. I love the little one, of course, but
I know it will keep us hard-pushed to care for her
and Robert, and Jack looks so blue all the time
that I don’t know what to do about it.” Tears
shone in her eyes as she finished.
“The first thing to do about it,” said practical
Mrs. Grant, “is to cry a little bit,” and she tossed
her handkerchief into her friend’s lap. “Tears al-
THE GOLDEN AGE FOR AUGUST 7, 1913
AUNT HETTY ON TRUST
ALICE WALKER JENISON.
ways soften the ache, dear child. The next thing
to do is to lift your thoughts upward. I notice that
Robert and this wee girlie do not seem to be worried
about where their next meal is coming from. Your
Heavenly Father is to you and Jack what you and
Jack are to these little ones. I think this wor
rying is as distressing to his great heart of love
as it would be to you and Jack if these two chil
dren were fretting for fear there would b e no din
ner tomorrow.”
Mrs. Clinton wiped her eyes, and smiled through
her tears, as she begged:
“Talk to me some more, Aunt Hetty. My faith
needs bolstering, and I always am helped by a glimpse
of life as you see it.”
“Your husband’s position is the same as he had
when you two were married, is it not?” Aunt Hetty
queried.
“Yes, but he has had two promotions since, with
increase of salary both times,” Mrs. Clinton proudly
replied.
“Then you must be better fixed financially than
you were before little Robert came,” she continued.
“Oh, yes, much better.”
“Well, I declare, isn't it sweet the way He has
prospered you two!” Aunt Hetty exclaimed, joy
fully. “Not three years married, two promotions,
showing how his employer values him, two lovely
children, your little home your own, and no bills
for sickness or death, except the bills when the
babies came. So much to praise Him for!”
Then her voice took on a reminiscent tone, and
she began telling Robert of a pair of birds who
nested in a tree near her home the previous spring.
The boy was fascinated with her tale of the nest
lings tumbling out of the nest, and being rescued
by Aunt Hetty and put in a box with slats over it,
so that no cats could get them. She told how the
box had been suspended in the tree, how the par
ents fed the little ones through the slats till they
were strong enough to look after themselves and
keep away from the cats, when they were released,
and flew away with the old birds. Baby had gone
to sleep, so Aunt Hetty placed her in the crib, then
returned to her seat by the fire. Robert’s mother
had been as interested as he in the birds, and both
were glad to see that she was not through with
the tale. She looked very thoughtful as she said:
“I thought about those birds this morning, when
I read those verses in Luke about the lilies of
the fields, and the fowls of the air—and then I
thought about you and Jack, with your little brood,
and I determined to come over and tell you about
the thoughts that came to me. If the dear little
birds that mate in the spring should snuggle to
gether on a branch and talk over all the possible
disasters ahead of them through the summer, and
discuss the trials of last year, not only their own
trials, but those of their feathered neighbors as
well, I presume many of them would conclude not
to go nest-building. The crop of worms might be
small, or grain hard to find, and the snakes, or
cats, or small boys might rob the nests. But no —
“God feedeth them; how much more are ye better
than the fowls/” “Consider the lilies; not how they
grow, but how they grow.” Sending their roots
out to find the nourishing elements in the soil, spread
ing out their leaves to the sunlight and dews of
heaven, and reaching out flor all the goods God
has for them, then growing and blooming. They
find what they need in their sorrundings; the birds
find what they need, and “your Father knoweth
that ye have need of these things.” And so He
says: “Seek not what ye shall eat or what ye
shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind.” 1
suppose that doubtful mind means a worrying mind,
a mind that lives in careful suspense instead of one
that lives in loving trust. Then you remember He
tells us there is something that we are to seek.
He says, “Seek ye the kingdom of God; and all
these things shall be added unto you.”
The three sat quietly in the light of the glowing
coals, Robert in his mother’s lap, her arms close
about him, Aunt Hetty gazing into the fire, and
rocking slowly to and fro, the thoughtful expression
lingering. Presently she continued:
“Translated into everyday language, I take it that
the life of trust, as pictured in those beautiful
words of our Master’s, would bar out all anxious
thought and worry. Back of our feeble human ef
forts lie the eternal plans of the Almighty, and back
of our human love, that would select and secure
the best of all things for our loved ones, is the
Omnipotent Heart of Love. We are to clasp our
hands in His, and then, with a firm, unfaltering
trust in His love and care, do the best we can
with the abilities He has given us, knowing that
His word never faileth, that what He said in re
gard to “All things working together for good to
them that love God” is absolutely true, that the
“hand that holds all nature up—the birds and the
flowers, and the little children, too, Glod bless them
—will guard his children well.”
As she rose to wrap herself, before again facing
the wind, she patted the little mother affectionately
on the shoulder, and said:
“Now, dearie, be sure the Lord is more anxious
for the welfare of your little birdlings than you
and Jack are, and just nestle down under HEs
wings of love, and trust his loving care.”
“Oh, I will, I will, and I shall tell Jack every word
you have said! I am sure God sent you to me
today,” Mrs. Clinton said, with shining eyes.
CERTAINLY, BRYAN SHOULD LECTURE.
Editor Golden Age:
A few comparisons may help us to an un
derstanding of the question of Bryan’s lec
tures which some are trying to turn into a
difficult question of casuistry. The Christian
Herald of New York talks to the secretary in
its last issue as to a naughty boy.
I have a friend, a minister, who has served
country charges. He has had illness in his
family and it would have been bed for him
but for one thing. He was is demand as a
revivalist. So he did. just as many, many
pastors do. He held his regular pastorate and
then, as often as he could during the summer,
he held meetings for friends. In this way he
earned thousands of dollars, and so paid his
heavy bills, and served his little churches. But
ministers have no right to do this if it is wrong
for a man to lecture or speak for pay while
holding another office.
I had seminary professors who did not wait
for vacation. They wrote books during the
year, and largely augmented their salaries.
Those salaries would of themselves have seem
ed good to most ministers. But they certain
ly filled their duties as professors and who
would say them nay? They also maintained
columns in religious periodicals for pay. And
this while employed on salary. On Sundays
they often supplied pulpits for pay. They did
just as Bryan does. And during their vaca
tions they spoke at chautauquas and summer
assemblies for pay. They all do it if they
can. And we all ask them to when we need
them. And the trustees of their institutions
are proud that they are in demand.
So college profesors write books, make
speeches, and give lectures to augment their
salaries.
But in this case it is Bryan.
Sincerely,
F. A. CLARKE.
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