p. 12 | For His Mother’s Sake

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 8, 1906

For His Mother’s Sake

The florist’s boy had just swept some broken and withered flowers into the gutter, when a ragged urchin darted across the street. He came upon a rose seemingly in better condition than the rest; but as he tenderly picked it up, the petals fluttered to the ground, leaving only the bare stalk in his hand.

He stood quite still, and his lips quivered perceptibly.

“What’s the matter with you, any way?” the florist’s boy asked.

The ragged little fellow choked and answered:—

“It’s for my mother. She’s sick and can’t eat nothin’, an’ I thought if she’d a flower to smell, it might make her feel better.”

“Just you wait a minute,” said the florist’s boy as he disappeared. When he came out upon the sidewalk, he held in his hand a beautiful half-opened rose. “There,” he said, “take that to your mother.”

He had meant to put that rosebud on his own mother’s grave, and yet he knew that he had done the better thing. He said to himself, “I know this would please her most if she knew.”—Selected.