Unconscious Selfishness.
By Henry Ward Beecher
THERE is not a little unconscious selfishness in the matter of politeness. Although there is on the froth of what is called politeness a great deal that is foolish; yet politeness, in its true signification, is only another name for Christianity socially applied; and good sense and etiquette are, in point of fact, Christian equity and kindness. In the code of politeness there are many things forbidden, and many things enjoined, which men who do not consider themselves to be disciples of the school of politeness need to have told them. We that stand in favored positions of society, often judge those that have no position, as if they could act as we act. We do not consider that their circumstances make it hard, if not impossible, for them to do things that we can do easily. The position a man is in makes a difference in little things. A robust man that is healthy in every bone and muscle, must take care as to what he requires of those that are sick and weak. If a man's nerves are like whip-cords, what contempt he has for a nervous and hysterical person. And yet, I take it that persons who are hysterical and nervous are not so because they like it, but because they cannot help it. A blind man is not so well off as if he could see; but if he is blind, what are you going to do about it? It is a fact that a man who has no skin over his nerves, has no skin over his nerves, and that he suffers; and you that wear rhinoceros hides are not to despise him because he cannot bear as much as you can. There is unconscious selfishness, likewise, in the use of language. The pain inflicted by the tongue is far greater, I think, than the pleasure imparted by it. Rudeness of every kind in language is liable to produce great and unnecessary pain. All the good there is in decisiveness, directness, or brevity, is perfectly compatible with being essentially kind. But persons who do wrong from ignorance and inexperience are often censured. Many a word drops a seed from us and grows up a thorn-bush in the soul on which it falls.—Henry Ward Beecher in Herald of Health.