I WAS sitting in my room one morning, feeling all "out of sorts"about something or other, when an orphan child, whom I had taken toraise, came in with a broken tumbler in her hand, and said, whileher young face was pale, and her little lip quivered,--
"See, Mrs. Graham! I went to take this tumbler from the dresser toget Anna a drink of water, and I let it fall."
I was in a fretful humour before the child came in, and herappearance, with the broken tumbler in her hand, did not tend tohelp me to a better state of mind. She was suffering a good deal ofpain in consequence of the accident, and needed a kind word to quietthe disturbed beatings of her heart. But she had come to me in anunfortunate moment.
"You are a careless little girl!" said I, severely, taking thefragments of glass from her trembling hands. "A very careless littlegirl, and I am displeased with you!"
I said no more; but my countenance expressed even stronger rebukethan my words. The child lingered near me for, a few moments, andthen shrunk away from the room. I was sorry, in a moment, that I hadpermitted myself to speak unkindly to the little girl; for there wasno need of my doing so; and, moreover, she had taken my words, as Icould see, deeply to heart. I had made her unhappy without a cause.The breaking of the tumbler was an accident likely to happen to anyone and the child evidently felt bad enough about what had occurred,without having my displeasure added thereto.
If I was unhappy before Jane entered my room I was still moreunhappy after she retired. I blamed myself, and pitied the child;but this did not in the least mend the matter.
In about half an hour, Jane came up very quietly with Willy, my dearlittle, curly-haired, angel-face boy, in her arms. He had fallenasleep, and she had, with her utmost strength, carried himup-stairs. She did not lift her eyes to mine as she entered, butwent, with her burden, to the low bed that was in the room, whereshe laid him tenderly, and then sat down with her face turned partlyaway from me, and with a fan kept off the flies and cooled his moistskin.
Enough of Jane's countenance was visible to enable me to perceivethat its expression was sad. And it was an unkind word from my lipsthat had brought this cloud over her young face!
"So much for permitting myself to fall into a fretful mood," said I,mentally. "In future I must be more watchful over my state of mind.I have no right to make others suffer from my own unhappy temper."
Jane continued to sit by Willy and fan him; and every now and then Icould hear a very low sigh come up, as if involuntarily, from herbosom. Faint as the sound was, it smote upon my ear, and added to myuncomfortable frame of mind.
A friend called, and I went down into the parlour, and satconversing there for an hour. But all the while there was a weightupon my feelings. I tried, but in vain, to be cheerful. I was toodistinctly aware of the fact, that an individual--and that amotherless little girl--was unhappy through my unkindness; and theconsciousness was like a heavy hand upon my bosom.
"This is all a weakness," I said to myself, after my friend hadleft, making an effort to throw off the uncomfortable feeling. Butit was of no avail. Even if the new train of thought, awakened byconversation with my friend, had lifted me above the state of mindin which I was when she came, the sight of Jane's sober face, as shepassed me on the stairs, would have depressed my feelings again.
In order both to relieve my own and the child's feelings, I thoughtI would refer to the broken tumbler, and tell her not to grieveherself about it, as its loss was of no consequence whatever. Butthis would have been to have made an acknowledgment to her that Ihad been in the wrong, and instinctive feeling of pride remonstratedagainst that.
"Ah me!" I sighed. "Why did I permit myself to speak so unguardedly?How small are the cause that sometimes destroy our peace! How muchgood or evil is there in a single word!"
Some who read this may think that I was very weak to let a hastilyuttered censure against a careless child trouble me. What are achild's feelings?
I have been a child; and, as a child, have been blamed severely bythose whom I desired to please, and felt that unkind words fellheavier and more painfully, sometimes, than blows. I could,therfore, understand the nature of Jane's feelings, and sympathizewith her to a certain extent.
All through the day, Jane moved about more quietly than usual. WhenI spoke to her about any thing--which I did in a kinder voice than Iordinarily used--she would look into my face with an earnestnessthat rebuked me.
Toward evening, I sent her down-stairs for a pitcher of cool water.She went quickly, and soon returned with the pitcher of water, and atumbler, on a waiter. She was coming towards me, evidently usingmore than ordinary caution, when her foot tripped against something,and she stumbled forward. It was in vain that she tried to save thepitcher. Its balance was lost, and it fell over and was broken topieces at my feet, the water dashing upon the skirt of my dress.
The poor child became instantly as pale as ashes, and the frightenedlook she gave me I shall not soon forget. She tried to speak, andsay that it was an accident, but her tongue was, paralyzed for themoment, and she found no utterance.
The lesson I had received in the morning served me for purposes ofself-control now, and I said, instantly, in a mild, voice--
"Never mind, Jane; I know you couldn't help it. I must tack downthat loose edge of the carpet. I came near tripping there myselfto-day. Go and get a floor-cloth and wipe up the water as quickly asyou can, while I gather up the broken pieces."
The colour came back instantly to Jane's face. She gave me onegrateful look, and then ran quickly away, to do as I had directedher. When she came back, she blamed herself for not having been morecareful, expressed sorrow for the accident, and promised over andover again that she would be more guarded in future.
The contrast between both of our feelings now and what they were inthe morning, was very great. I felt happier for having acted justlyand with due self-control; and my little girl, though troubled onaccount of the accident, had not the extra burden of my displeasureto bear.
"Better, far better," said I to myself, as I sat and reflected uponthe incidents just related--"better, far better is it, in all ourrelations in life, to maintain a calm exterior, and on no accountspeak harshly to those who are below us. Angry words make doublewounds. They hurt those whom they are addressed, while they leave asting behind them. Above all, should we guard against a moodytemper. Whenever we permit any thing to fret our minds, we are notin a state to exercise due self-control, and if temptation comesthen we are sure to fall."
THE END.
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