The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-05-12

irritation NHeH We ul4Sut nave 49, ~
the sunshine Of loving words and deeds.
Nv mother used 10 talk very serious
~ to us about it. You think little Of II
a the days 60 by she would say, but
If God should gee fit TO take one OF YOU
away, YOU would, all your lives, feel the
bitterness of the sting LETT By the mem
DRY of past unkindHess.7
at is said mo&t people have TO learn
b. experience great pity, surely, II 1t
is true. FOR how much better off We
should all be If we would learn lessons
from those who have suffered, instead OF
waiting until the same hard lesson has
come to US ] think, however, there are
some children who, happily for them,
are wise enough to profit by good adj
vice; bat my sisters and | were not OF
the number, for as far as | can Iemem-
Der, We keet on much the same, in spite
Of all mothers talk. And when, at last,
the experience did come, it was bitter
enough.
" A picnic was in prospect to which
we had ali been looking forward for
some time. Eat as the day, this day
years ago, drew near, some little ailment
seized me which led my mother to think
il best for me to stay at home. 1t was
great disappointment, and Pm sorry TO
say that | bore it very badly. have
sometimes thought since, that God
sends these small trials upon us to give
us an opportunity to show a spirit of
patience and submission, but l could not
have thought so then, and made myself
a trial TO every one who was so unfortu-
nate as to be obliged to come near me,
by my complaints anu my ilI-temper,
Mother gave up her share IN the
days pleasure to remain with me, and
was sure of having everything to help
me through the day at home, but /
chose to consider myself sadly ill-used
and was possibly little crosser even
than usual. The company were going In
open carriages, and at the last moment
my little sister Marian came running to
me.
40, Emily, l can't find my sun-um-
brella. Won't you lend me yours I'm
sorry enough you can't go to use it your
self, you poor dear
Ono, won't, / snarled. You're the
most careless girl in the world always
losing your things. You'd be sure to
lose mine.s
:. % no, I won't. llease, Emily The
sun Is going to be so hot
"'I can't help that. You'd better
learn to be more careful of your things
Come, Marian they called from
outside, and she ran away. AS | watch
ed them until they were out of sight,
the last thing | could see through the
branches of the trees was Matian's little
hand waving a coed bye to me, and
could not help feeling, too late, touch
of self-reproach for my unkindness.
But forgot all about it until late in
the day, there came message In haste,
and mothers face grew white as she
heard it.
"'An accident Some are hurt, and
must go at once Before | had time
to think she was gone, and had to wait
dreadful hour before the members OF
the pleasure party came-but not all
to tell me.
The horses attached TO one of the
carriages bad taken fright and run
away, finally overturnipg the carriage
and throwing all who We're in it out upon
the hard, gravelled road. Our little Ma
rian was one of them, and no one as yet
knew whether she would live or die.
80 if | could tell you what suffered
How | wandered about by day and lay
awake at night, remembe ring all my un-
kindness to my little sister, and think
ing almost wildly if | could have, if ii
ueye only one day, in which to tell her
how | loved her, and to show her my
oye in every possible way! Every un
sisterly word or act | had ever been
guilty Of toward her seemed to rise
| before me ia all their hatefulness and
ugliness, until | felt sure that Gcd was
going to punish me by never giving me
| an opportunity TO atone for them. Aud
my misery was increased by the haunting
idea that she night now be t worse
for my refusing her the sua-umbrella.
But he was more merciful than
deserved-as he always is. After few
wretched days of trouble, word came
! that Marian would get well.
Il fretted aud pinned so TO see her that
at length my mother allowed me to GO
10 the house where she had been taking
care of her all the weary time. wa.
carefully cautioned to be very quiet anI
do nothing to excite her, but nobody
| seemed to have remembered to prepare
me for the great change in her appear
ance. | went in.o her half darkeneC
room With beating heart, and forget
| ting all caution, gave a little cry oil
dismsy as first caught sight of her.
Gould that be my merry-faced little
sister? | could not see a trace of her il
the poor, little thin face which turned
towards me. All the pretty curls wer,
gone, and her blue eyes looked unnatu
rally large over the pale cheeks. Sh,
held out white bit of hand to me
but l rushed out of the room and crieC
till could cry no longer.
''They did not let me go back, but sh,
was brought home soon after that, anC
had many DAYS in which to show tina
| had learned my lesson we'll"
"And did you never quarrel an,
more?P asked Ruth, rs Aunt Emil,
paused
"Well, | suppose we did sometimes
but we certainly did mend our ways s,
far as to be able to taste the sweetness
which comes of seel ing happiness 70
others instead of ourselves. / think w
found that bright smile, gentle word
kindly act, aud all the other beautiful
outgrowths of loving spirit, wer
better worth cult;vating than the crol
of ugly weeds which grows from th
root of evil temper. New York Oh
server.