Delicacy of Feeling

THE value of a charitable deed depends entirely upon the way it is done. Remember, the poor are always sensitive. Said a poor woman: “If anyone gives me anything and then tells of it, I’ve paid for it” Yes, paid for it in shame and distress more than the gift was worth. Said a lady at her gate one day: “That’s Mrs. Dean; I know it’s her by her dress. I gave it to her.”

Once one man said to another, ” I gave you this work because you were poor and I thought you’d be glad to get it.” Why did he remind the man of his distress, already hard to bear? It would have sounded much better if he had said: ” It is very handy getting this work done so near home. I am glad you could do it for me.” The workman would have thought: “I like to work for him, his manners are so pleasant.”

Now judge which is nicest. A lady was having the Primary Association girls at her house to make a quilt for a donation to some worthy object. One girl whispered: “My sister and I are the only ones here without white aprons.” She did not know it was overheard till after dinner, when the hostess appeared from an inner room and whispered to her, “Now you’re not the only ones with gingham aprons on.” I heard the whisper, glanced at the two faces, and lovelier smiles I never saw. They were from the hearts of sympathy and appreciation.

The Magician

This is a fairy story, but it is a true one, as you will know when I have done. Magicians are not believed in nowadays, but .they still exist, and I will tell you about one whom you can all employ after reading my story.

A favored being of the earth, endowed with the spirit and power of which I speak, once exclaimed, “I wish! ” And he wished to see a city built, to see forests and fields, streams, tiny lakes, and many other wonderful things, in a desolate country. This power was put into force in a thousand directions, and soon dwellings arose, scenes once barren waste became end-less beauty, human creatures and dumb animals rejoiced, and the abundance of all good things brought harmony in every home, and there was no envy, for this power blessed all alike. I saw this power in its might and beauty, and it was not from beneath, it was from above; it was a principle that even exalted beings recognize, honor, and employ. Idleness, want, and misery had vanished, and the thoughts of human creatures had time to soar to loftier themes that still had in them the higher demands of this motive power. Shall I tell you the secret, that you also may exercise this magical gift? The lowliest hearts and hands may wield it and help to adorn the earth, help to ennoble and bless each fellow creature. The name of this magical power is Prayerful Labor.

The Kite

IT was the most tiresome kite in the world, always wagging its tail, shaking its ears, breaking its string, sitting down on the tops of houses, getting stuck in trees, entangled in hedges, flopping down on ponds, or lying flat on the grass, and refusing to rise higher than a yard from the ground.

I have often sat and thought about that kite, and wondered who its father and mother were. Perhaps they were very poor people, just made of newspaper and little bits of common string knotted together, obliged to fly day and night for a living, and never able to give any time to their children or to bring them up properly. It was pretty, for it had a snow-white face, and pink and white ears ; and, with these, no one, let alone a kite, could help being pretty. But though the kite was pretty, it was not good, and it did not prosper; it came to a bad end, oh! a terrible end indeed. It stuck itself on a roof one day, a common red roof with a broken chimney and three tiles missing. It stuck itself there, and it would not move; the children tugged and pulled and coaxed and cried, but still it would not move. At last they fetched a ladder, and had nearly reached it when suddenly the kite started and flew away right away over the field and over the heath, and over the far far woods, and it never came back again-never -never.

Dear, that is all. But I think sometimes that perhaps beyond the dark pines and the roaring sea the kite is flying still, on and on, farther and farther away, for ever and for ever.

The Duck Pond

SO little Bridget took the baby on her right arm and a jug in her left hand, and went to the farm to get the milk. On her way she went by the garden-gate of a large house that stood close to the farm, and she told the baby a story:-

“Last summer,” she said,” a little girl, bigger than you, for she was just able to walk, came to stay in that house she and her father and mother. All about the road just here, the ducks and the chickens from the farm, and an old turkey, used to walk about all the day long, but the poor little ducks were very unhappy, for they had no pond to swim about in, only that narrow ditch through which the streamlet is flowing. When the little girl’s father saw this, he took a spade, and worked and worked very hard, and out of the ditch and the streamlet he made a little pond for the ducks, and they swam about and were very happy all through the summer days. Every morning I used to stand and watch, and presently the garden-gate would open, and then the father would come out, leading the little girl by the hand, and the mother brought a large plateful of bits of broken bread. The little girl used to throw the bread to the ducks, and they ran after it and ate it up quickly, while she laughed out with glee,, and the father and the mother laughed too just as merrily. Baby, the father had blue eyes, and a voice that you seemed to hear with your heart.

“The little girl used to feed the chickens too, and the foolish old turkey that was so fond of her it would run after her until she screamed and was afraid. The dear father and the little girl came out every morning, while the black pigs looked through the bars of the farm-yard gate and grunted at them, as if they were glad, and I think the ducks knew that the father had made the pond, for they swam round and round it proudly while he watched them, but when he went away they seemed tired and sad.

“The pond is not there now, baby, for a man came by one day and made it into a ditch again; and the chickens and the ducks from the farm are kept in another place.

“The little girl is far away in her own home, which the father made for her, and the dear father lives in his own home too in the hearts of those he loved.”

That was the story that Bridget told the baby.

The Power Of Silence

Joe was an old man aged 75 years. He lived very happily and formed a beautiful family. His children grew up and moved to different cities in pursue of good career and future. He lived in a small village carrying the memories of his deceased wife. Joe had 4 grand children and they used to visit him during their holidays.

And it was the vacation time and Joe was eagerly waiting for the arrival of his grand children. He was preparing his home for the kids, cleaning the home, mowing the garden, rearranging the household items, buying the favourite foods, dresses for the children, etc. In the busy arrangements, he lost his favourite watch. old-watch

The watch was gifted by his dead wife when their first child was born. Joe treasured the watch and it became his sole companion after his wife’s death.

He forgot the watch missing and was happy receiving the kids at home. It was only the next day when he was about to take bath, he remembered that the watch was missing. He saw the watch last when he was arranging things in the barn. He was shocked and very upset.

His grandchildren asked him why he was so dull and asked him what troubled him.

Joe said, ‘Dear children, I lost the most precious watch I have ever had and I ever got in my life. It was gifted by your grandma and I lost it while cleaning the home! I feel like I’m missing my heart.’

Joe was on tears and the children promised him that they would search the watch for him.

One granddaughter asked ‘grand pa, do you remember when you saw the watch last before it was missing?’

Joe told, ‘I guess when I was cleaning the barn!’

The children decided to search for the watch in the barn. The barn was full of waste materials, books, scraps, broken furniture, etc.

The children searched for more than 2 hours with help of Joe and a servant, but could not find it. Joe was completely shattered and asked the children to stop searching as they could not find anything.

The kids were also too sad, and consoled the grandfather.

One grandson again moved to the barn, and Joe asked why he was going there again. The little boy requested others not to follow him and remain silent.

While the others were little surprised, they still followed what he said. The little boy went to the barn and sat there in silence.

The other children reached him and asked him what he was doing and the little boy asked them not to make noise.

He sat there for about 15 minutes and then rushed to his grandfather. Yes, he got the watch and happily gave it to Joe.

He was surprised and asked how he was able to find it. The little boy replied, ‘I sat there without making a noise and the barn was so silent. After a few minutes, I heard the ‘tick tick’ sound and found the watch.

Joe hugged him and thanked the little boy.

This is the power of silence. If we stay calm, we can find the solution very easily!