Passaic City record., 1891-10-17
Tender and True.
Many Passaic Parents Will APP
preciate the Following Lines
About Little Fingers.

About Little Fingers.
We hear so much of hands,
beautiful hands, useful hands, ETC.,
but little fingers.-God bless the
little fingers! These are not the
taper1ng fingers, not the subtle
fingers, nor the dainty fingers, but
the little fingers. We find them
some times dishevelling our hair.
We find them clasped around our
neck; we find them catching on to
our clothes; we find them clasped
tight in our own.
The little fingers belong to little
hands and the little hands are
those of little people. The most
lovable objects in the world are
those which are little-those which
we can hold within our arms or
fold to our heart-and that is one
reason why we love children. We
love the peony, the dahlia, and
other large and impressive speci-
mems; but the flowers we put to
our lips are the violet, the blue e-bell,
the daisies, the heliotrope. They
bring tears of pity to orr eyes
should the storm beat upon them,
or the rain crush them, and the
sympathies of childhood are more
crushing to our hearts than the
sterner adversely.
sometimes wonder with what
feelings do all mothers remember
the touch of absent fingers; the
little fingers. There is some one
memory of child's touch that lin
gers with us forever. Perhaps we
walk in the darkness and the fin
gers within our own have such a
consciousness of safety that they
take hold of ours manfully, giving
us the impression that they are
taking care OF us. We ascend a
steep place and they try to pull us
up; we descend and they hold us
back lest we should fall They
are always taking care of us, the
little fingers; they are never weak,
nor conscious of weakness. When
we cry we feel the warm tips brush
away our tears; when we look sad
they stroke our faces, and this,
lust where the lines of care are,
and SO prevent deeper inroads.
When we laugh, we feel them toy
ing with our lips. If there is a
curl out of place the little fingers
pin it up, and if there is gray
hair they are the first to pluck it
out.
Dear little fingers, full of SYM
pathy, full of love, full of tender
ness to the very tips, and yet how
often are they neglected and thrust
aside and punished; and these are
the saddest memories of all. They
are growing longer, larger, firmer
every day, and in a few years will
have vanished as if they never ex
isted, and all we shall have of them
is memory.
Then we will recall how soft
they were, how tender they were
how clinging and contiding; how
they nestled in our bosom; how
when some troubled dream awoke
the precious owners, the little fin.
gers reached over and wandered
on our pillow till they touched our
faces, then returned satisfied
Then all the Kingdoms of the world,
and the glory of them we would
not take in exchange for one clasp
of those little fingers, for one hut-
ter of the rosy lips.
| think if there is one golden
thread that draws a mother to
heaven, and to a wistfulness for
the life immortal, It's the memory
of little fingers reaching down to
her; and if there is one spur that
leads her to ambition and achieve
ment, it is the recollection of little
fingers reaching out to her. | pity
the mother that looks back ane
sees little fingers clasping a waxer
lilv, the blood flown from the white
tips, and the little knuckles at rest
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