Kindly Thoughtful of the Aged by Emma H. Adams

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Apr 4, 1912

Kindly Thoughtful of the Aged

By Emma H. Adams

EMMA H. ADAMS

SOME months ago there stepped off the front end of a car of the Los Angeles and Redondo Railway, in the latter little town, an aged woman carrying a light traveling basket, and a parcel, not heavy but quite large in size.

At the same moment there alighted from the rear end of the car a young girl probably ten years of age. Instantly, with blithe step and charming manner, she approached the elderly traveler, extended a hand, and said, very courteously:— “Lady, please let me carry your basket, your parcel is enough for you to carry. Do you go down this avenue?” pointing to a street stretching away northward.

“Yes, little girl,” replied the woman, won by the child’s kind act, “but neither of the articles is heavy, and the distance is short. Thank you greatly, I do not need help.”

“But, lady,” continued the young illustrator of the golden rule, “I go down that next avenue,”—a parallel street in full view,—“and it will not be a step out of my way to walk with you. Kindly let me carry your basket.”

Somewhat surprised, and yet pleased by the persistency of the child, the woman put the basket into her hand, and together the two, representing the opposite extremes of human life, passed down the Camino Real to the intersection of Carnelian Street. Here there happened to be, laughing along just within the curbing, a gleaming ribbon of water, barely a half-yard in width.

Before the woman had even noticed the stream, the maiden had leaped across it, caught up a short piece of board lying upon the oiled street, and placed it across the rivulet, exclaiming in tones of happy satisfaction:—

“There, lady, now you will not wet your feet! Cross on that; it will surely bear you.”

The lady could have stepped across the stream easily; but to please the infant bridge builder she crossed on the frail girder.

Passing on then a block and a half, the little one chatted with her companion—equally alive to their beauty and charm—about the vivid blossoms of the mosses adorning either side of the way.

Then, when the great, blue sea came into full view, she cried: “Lady, isn’t that sea wonderful? I’m so glad to see it again.”

Coming now to the home within which the woman was to pass a few days, she turned to the child, whose kindness and pretty ways had impressed her deeply, and said: “Now, little girl, please step inside with me, and let me reward you for bearing part of my burden. I wish to thank you, also.”

Quickly from the lips of the bright little maiden fell the words: “Lady, lady, I did not do it for pay; I just wanted to carry your basket. Good-by.”

Then, turning away quickly, she sped down the broad, green slope before her, an arm swinging rapidly at either side, and soon entered a gateway half a block distant.

Now, to what teaching or influence or example was due that young girl’s thoughtfulness, readiness, even eagerness to lighten another’s burden, that other being not a child like herself, but one traveling near the farther verge of life’s journey?

Had a rarely wise mother guided her along such unworldly and ideal pathways? Had a mother, opulent in common sense, remarkable for faithfulness, gifted with keen mental foresight, impressed upon her the thrilling fact that to live out the golden rule is exalted wisdom, is living, so far as it goes, the true life on earth?

One marks a sad difference in human beings, of all classes, in the practise of genuine courtesy, and especially in the practise of that charming grace, politeness to the aged. And one need not long be an observer of child-life, as it is lived in our own country, to learn that deeds “full of fragrant comfort,” like that upon which we have just turned the pen’s electric light, are seldom performed spontaneously by young children.

In most instances such acts are the fascinating fruit of a conscience made quick by high religious training. They are the fruit of pure seed sown at an auspicious season; seed, the delicate stem from which has been trained by skilled hands.

Such fruit is rarely borne by child-plants left to mature without care, without attention, in soil unfriendly. Next to acts of direct obedience to the divine Father and to the earthly father and mother, deeds of true courtesy are the most tasteful, most welcome fruit they can bear. They are fruits that will bring high award in the great assembly day on high.

Wise and worthy of good recompense are the father and mother who instil into the heart and habit of their children the principle of genuine courtesy, of lofty kindness, of forgetfulness of self.

Los Angeles, Cal.