Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1874-08-27
TOMS SERMON,

No shoes was the cause of the fattened
nose against the wlndowpane and the
| long series of means and groans that had
been the only sounds from Pats lips all
the morning. But I'm leaving so many
loose threads to my story that unless 1
stop, pick them up and tie them in, they'll
be dangling down, in the way, all through
the story.
First: "Pat" was a girl. Her name
wasn't Patrick, but Patience. For when
her father held her in his great strong
arms for the first timc-more bundle
of flannel and clothes than a baby-he
said: Lets call her my mothers
sweet, quaint name. Maybe it'll help
her along, for she's wee mite any
way"
| Her nature was just at war against her
name all the way through. From the
very first, when the good old parson laid
his hand on the little fuzzy head, and
said, 4 baptize thee, Patience" there
went up, spite of the gentle swaying and
shelving" of the mother, such an i'm
| patient, shrill howl, that her brother Tom,
who laughed at everything she did in her
funny, solemn, baby way, giggled ont
loud, and was taken out of meeting by
Aunt Ruth in disgrace. This seemed to
be beginning for each. patience
didn't like her name. Never did.
| Couldn't see why they hadn't named her
Maud or Alice, or Edith. But horrid,
! old-fashioned Patience! She just couldn't
bear it." And Tom, like most big broth
ers, "loved his sister to DEATH" and
| showed it by teasing her every chance
he had; and when he didn't find one by
chance" he made it "a-purpOse," by
calling her in a loud tone, "Pay-shents! p
and finally made matters worse by calling
her that awful name, Pat" that chung
to her all her life, till she really learned
to love it and the real name that she
once couldn't BEAR" because of the
dear lips that gave them to her.
Well, my other thread comes f1utter-
ing down. Here it is: Why she tiattened
that poor little stubby nose against the
window. The shoes. Yes, she forgot
her rubbers. Left them in school yes
terday noon, when, having half-hOliday
she went with Trudy Green and Laura
Halberd across lots to the swampdrain
| to hunt for camomile root, and when she
came home her shoes were just "sop-
ping" so she slipped into the wash
house and put them on the stove to dry
and they did dry, and " all up" too.
She couldn't get them on her feet. Sat
urday morning, too; and she had to wait
indoors in slippers that wouldn't stay on,
but kept slipping off at the heel. So she
was waiting for Tom, who had gone into
the village to get her a pair of new shoes.
Isn't it hard to keep the "fret" to our
selves sometimes? Well, if there is any
comfort in being cross and impatient,
Patience ought TO have been happy in
her tribulation Somehow, though, she
was miserable. Those shriveled-up shoes
seemed to have warped the sunshine, too.
Inevitable" is very long word, but
it comes in" quite often, and means
"can't be helped"-so, whenever we
! come across an " inevitable" all we can
do is either to nourish it mournfully, or,
with little effort, throw it aside and try
to steer clear of another one in the fU-
ture.
So, by mourning over her inevitable
stay-in-the house Saturday-morning, she
lost all the bright "possibles" of indoor
fun. But it wasn't all a loss. She began
a lesson that she'll study over ever so
many times before she knows it perfect
ly. This was her lesson: Places
Now that I've got hold Of my threads
I'm going on with the weaving.
She saw Tom coming up the road
| shaking a bundle at her; so she flew
down as fast as those wretched" Slip
pers would let her, to open the door.
"WeI, Tom Trait / thought you'd
never come! What kept you? The
| girl. have been gone to the Long Mead
ows these three hours. Mother ac0uIdat
let me wear my prunellas, even with my
rubbers. l think it's just as mean! and
l think
"That there isn't any one to blame but
little Pat herself. And now I'm going to
preach little preach" broke in Tom,
as, taking hold of his sisters feet, he
pushed her back on the sofa, and went
on, using little emphatic gesture once
in a while that made her laugh, even
though she was "mad." You see, Tom
meant to be a minister one of these
days, and in his everyday life practiced
his preaching so well that Pat couldn't
help but love and respect him enough to
listen, and profit too, | guess.
Now, here's his sermon: my text is
= Places Everybody and everything
has a place. And when things get
mixed there's trouble. Yesterday after
noon the place for your rubbers was on
your feet. They weren't there. So, my
congregation, it's taking most twenty
| four hours to get everything in its place
again. Now, the world is swinging
| round the same as ever, except
that my own little sister has let Impa-
thence into that heart Of hers so often in
her short life that he very naturally feels
at home, and is trying to crowd out that
patient, bright Enduring which at the
end will bring a crown. So, my church,
away (up went the little slippered feet
| with things that are in wrong places.
Fill up the vacant, waste places with
something bright and lasting. Above
all, do Let Patience have her perfect work
in your heart; and if she don't fill up the
cracks that Crossness has made, and
leave no place for fretting, why-then
you're not tossed and tickled on this
! sofa"
And the Long Meadows trip? Well,
Tom harnessed up the carryall, drove
over after Trudy Green and Laura
Halberd, stopped for the other girls,
| and took them all off on long, beau
tltul drive through the woods, round
1 by Trad's Mill, past the Briggs, and then
/ home.
Coming home from Sunday-school, the
next day, Pat told the girls about Toms
| sermon, and they all decided that he
was going to made " a perfectly mag
nif1cent" preacher, and that they should
| all take pews in his church, for they
knew he'd find place as soon as he'd
| graduated
So he will. Don't you think SON.
! 7, O6serUer
| A DOCTORS motto is supposed to be