The Savannah morning news., 1903-03-22
REGRETTED WORDS.

We are prone to say with very mark
ed emphasis and a tinge of scorn:
Mere words" There is a time, says
a writer in the New York Evening
Post, when we are looking and longing
for generous action, or for just par
ticipation in responsibility and the de-
tense of the weak and suffering,
wherein we have a right to speak thus
lightly and disparagingly of words
which bear no fruit. But happy is the
man or woman who does not hold some
ever-to-be-forgotten word locked in a
close cell of the heart which will carry
its scar to the grave.
Far too tightly do we treat these
quick coming utterances, born and
equipped for battle in one instant of
irritation, that stab as they leave the
lips, and that never can be recalled.
Though we were to kneel and ask par
don for the wounds they have made,
yet the small invisible word lives on,
and if it be of the malignant Sort Gre
ated by anger and injured pride, its vi
tally is invincible. "Once, as l stood
there, looking out of that window, he
whom 1 loved best said that to me! 1
remember just how the sky looked, and
how cold and bleak the fields were"
Though the man were forgiven as love
can forgive, and happy years had in
tervened, and many a great event been
forgotten meantime, the remembrance
of that pain will never die in the wom-
ans mind.
Sometimes when have watched
hands clasped at the altar, and heard
the solemn unity of the unchanging
bond pronounced, I have longed to hear
a warning to speak gently to one an
other, given to the man and woman
promising so much for so 1ong The
tenderest love can in an angry moment
undo the impression made by years of
devotion. The irresponsible, really un-
meaning ejaculation which has broken
from the fiery tongue as a bubble from
a winecup, seems to betray a hidden
hardness, a concealed contempt which
in truth never existed, but can never
be forgotten.
A sharp wit and a natural tendency
to sarcasm, which in the common give
and take" of social intercourse lends
vivacity to the dinner hour and wins
applause in any gay assembly, is a dan
gerous gift in the close limit of family
life. The smart of covert criticism,
though made in the merest banter of
a naturally teasing nature, wounds; the
quick, well-turned sentence which re-
duceS a mistake or a folly into a tell
ing epigram, is hard to bear.
Not to be too sensitive and ready to
take offenSe is a part of the education
of our children as well as an important
duty in ourselves which we do not
carefully keep in view; brothers and
sisters cannot too soon be taught to-
take the careless Chatting" of the
nursery and the playground with good
humored patience and not attach too
serious Importance to every rough crit
icism. There is also a necessity for
the discipline to be put upon ourselves
and them, of watching our words.
Some one-no doubt a woman-many
long years ago, wrote three simple
verses which can hardly be called po-
etic, but were without a doubt the fruit
of painful experience and deep feeling.
The paper on which they are printed
is yellow; perhaps the writer has been
long dead, but 1 have kept the little
scrap where 1T frequently attracts my
eyes; its lesson remains worth study
ing; its verify only grows clearer as
life's experience proves it in a thou
sand varying homes:
eff 1 had known in the morning,
How YEARLY all the day,
The words unkind would trouble my
mind.
That 1 said when you went away,
I had been more careful, darling,
Nor given you needless pain;
But we vex our own with look and
tone.
We may never take back again.
FOR though in the quiet evening,
You may give me the kiss of peace,
Yet it we'll might be, that never for me,
The pain of the heart should cease.
How many go forth at morning,
Who never come home at night;
And hearts have broken for harsh
words spoken.
That sorrow can ne'er set right.
1--WE have careful thought for the
stranger,
And smiles for the sometime guest.
But oft for our own the bitter tone,
Though we love our own the best;
All! lips with the curve impatient
All! brow with the shade of scorn,
''Twere a cruel fate, were the night too
late
To undo the work of the morn"