p. 15 | That Word of Sympathy by May L. Hanley

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 15, 1912

That Word of Sympathy

By May L. Hanley

MRS. MAY L. HANLEY

It was the last evening train from the beach to the city of Tampico. The three little Mexican pupils were weary and fretful. The excitement of the afternoon, spent in bathing and playing upon the seashore, had abated; and now they were hungry, and wanted to be at home. “Why does the train stop so often?” queried little Felipe, and as if to ascertain for himself, he leaned far out of the window. “Mother said if you couldn’t keep Felipe out of danger, we couldn’t go to the beach again,” said Elena, crossly.

The tired governess exerted herself, and succeeded in attracting and holding the children’s attention, with stories of “when I was in the United States,” and of her childhood days; she was in the midst of the recital of Goliath and David when the train reached the city. They sat quietly listening until the car was almost emptied. As she arose with her little charges, it was plainly to be seen that the governess was weary and worn.

A hand was laid upon her shoulder, and she turned in astonishment, to look into the kindly eyes of an American woman. “Pardon me, but I want to say that I have watched you all the afternoon, on the beach. I am deeply interested in your happy management of those spoiled children. Pray do not be offended by a word of sympathy and appreciation from a stranger.”

How those tired eyes lighted up, and the drooping form straightened, as the governess replied: “O, thank you so much! Did you guess how discouraged I was? May you ever go about cheering up sad hearts.” A hearty clasp of the hand, and she was soon on the street and into the waiting carriage with her pupils.

Only a moment, but who can calculate the far-reaching benefit from that word of sympathy? Speak the cheering words now, for just the same opportunity may never come again.

Thomas, Okla.