The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1884-12-19
The Gripes of the World.

Like the rest of us, Mr.. Gripe is pre-
pairing for Christmas. He has settled
all his little bills, even paid his work
men yesterday, in the middle of the
month, instead of at the end. If he
had dropped single pleasant word
about Christmas they would have
thought that he did it in order that
they, too, might enjoy the holy day
with the rest of the world. But he
counted out the money with his usual
calm, icy politeness; and they made
sure as they went out that cold Gripe
only wanted to square his accounts. "
He has just bought new set of glass
for his wife, and something for each of
the girls. But the things will be sent
to them direct from the shops, with no
word or greeting from him, and, if
they venture to thank him, he will not
glance up from his paper as he an
swers: 81 am glad you are satisfied. l
supposed you needed them" The
children are in doubt whether he really
knowsit is Christmas after all, and is not
simply renewing theirsupplies, as usual.
John Gripe is so far Nihilist that
if he believes or feels anything, he says
nothing. He was calm baby. His
mother never knew whether her kisses
pleased or bored HIM As he grew up
he was always perfectly civil and kind
to her, and for years after his father
and brothers died gave her a place un-
der his roof. While she lived there
Qhe others all being dead and gomez
the years stretched out long and lone
ly to the old woman, and the world
yawned empty about her. Her clothes
and food were of the best, every want
was supplied. But there were days
when she would have given all that
life had held for her for single ten
der word, for loving touch from
child's hand John never gave the N
to her. He did his duty, however, to
her fully, until he had laid her under
ground.
He fulfilled his duty to wife and
children in the same way. He keeps
his account accurately clear with his
Maker, subscribes to all charities, occu-
pies his pew regularly and listens at
tentively to the rector But that good
man TO this day does not know whether
the seed be sows falls upon good
ground or on a rock Should stran-
ger wander up the aisle Mr.. Gripe is
first to courteously surrender his seat /;
but, who could imagine that fine, port.
ly, well-dressed figure going into the
highways and byways as messenger
for his Master, and compelling the
tramps and Magdalens to come in?
John Gripe never did cruel deed or
spoke an unkindly word. Yet he was
never known TO heartily praise friend,
TO go out of his way to set struggling
man on his feet, or to utter a word OF
encouragement to any poor devil who
had sinned.
Probably he feels deeply. If so,
only he and God know it, He hugs
himself complacently, it is likely, aud
congratulatts himself that he is not
weakly demonstrative-that he is too
strong To dribble out his emotions in
words. Most of us do the same when
we think We have hidden our genuine
feeling under a well.bred reticence.
Most of us are like John GRIPPE, in a
measure, We are quite sure that we
have rolling food of religion and
charity in our souls, but no drippings
of it ever fall on our friends and
neighbors in cordial words or friendly
acts. We mean some day to rise to
some heroic act to show our devotion
10 wife and children, and to prove our
philanthropy. But, meanwhile we are
dumb. Our hearts are all right.
Wife aud children are dear to US,
but we didn't tell them so. We see
how that poor clerk in the Office strug-
giles to do his work well, but we never
speak Mord of praise to him. Every
day hundred chances come to us to
make the lives of Others easier and
more cheerful by a little commenda-
tion, or encouragement or tenderness,
and we pass them by and do not give
it. Some day, when life near to US
drops suddenly into the darkness, we
see how we might have made it hap
pier if we had spoken. But then it is
TOO late. Now that the day is coming
when all the world holds out friendly
hands TO each other what shall we doi
The Master Himself did not compro-
mise His dignity by showing the feel
ings that were in Him. He wept over
Lazarus, he praised the heather centu.
rion, he touched the leper, he held the
little children in his arms. Shall we
be afraid to do the same In our own
homes, at our liable. perhaps, is the
poor heather, the friend, the little
child waiting for us to help and bless.