For Mercy's Sake | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Apr 9, 1885

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 15.

For Mercy's Sake.

IN a magazine which I took up to-night, for a little rest and refreshment, are three articles concerning women's work. Two, with great minuteness and nicety, give directions about housekeeping. The other is a delightful account of a neighborhood reading circle, and of the books read and the essays written. Next month there will be an article about elaborate and careful sewing, with lamentations because the machine has done away with the beautiful one thread and two thread stitching of old time.

But in all such articles where are the directions for the care of the children? Where would come the time for the thoughtfulness which notices that four-year-old Mary has got up ready to cry at every word, and lightly eases her burdens for that day; that mediates between heedless Tommy and careful Jennie in the matter of school-bags and rubbers, which Jennie had got ready for school and which Tommy has scattered in his wild search for his own missing geography; which pauses in the breathless hurry of Monday morning to hear nervous Nellie's spelling lesson that she may not wear out her anxious little soul before recitation, with fears lest she shall "miss"? There is danger that there shall not be room enough in our living for the children and their inevitable care and hindering. No, mothers, give yourselves and your children a fair chance. Take dainty care of them, souls as well as bodies; then do not feel "as if you should sink into the ground" if your neighbor finds that you do not dust your whole house over every day. Never work so hard that you cannot find the strength of their mental and moral requirements; never be so eager after the unattainable perfection in housekeeping that their precious things and their most precious selves are tucked away into back rooms, out of the light and warmth of the daily family living.

Not long ago I was passing some days with an old school friend. One small kitchen-girl and her own hands did the housework for a family of four children, one of them a restless baby of two. It had been a hard day for her. Up at half past six to "see about the breakfast," which meant to dress and feed the hungry baby, to build a fire in the dining-room, for it was a chilly fall morning, besides making johnny-cake and coffee, and practically cooking the rest of the breakfast. Then came the whirlwind of getting the older children off to school; a lunch put up for one who had only one session; the mending of a rent in No. 2's dress, caught on a door-knob as she hurried through; the sending of orders by No. 3, who passed by the market, while all the time the half-sick baby fretted and cried for something which nobody but mamma could do. After that the busy morning, two or three rooms swept and dusted, gingerbread made, a little fruit "put up," baby washed and fed and put to bed for his morning nap. There was not one moment's cessation till the hungry children came home for their dinner. The careless servant had forgotten the fire and the baked potatoes were not quite done—a delay which made the writing of "excuses" necessary for fear of possible tardiness; then the dinner for the baby, and lastly dinner for the oldest. In the afternoon the mother tried to lessen the great pile in the mending basket, but the baby tangled her spools and hid her scissors, dropped her button-box and cried to be taken up. A call or two filled up the spaces. After tea, and the children sent to bed, she gave an involuntary sigh of relief and reached out her hand toward the last magazine. She had been one of the best scholars in our class, and loved books as she loved her daily bread.

Presently the youngest girl, a reticent, quiet child, came shyly back and said, "I want to have a talk with you to-night, mamma;" and, "So do I," burst out the impetuous older one. The mother hesitated, and a shade of impatience passed over her face. Then she answered, brightly, "All right, I will come up as soon as you get undressed." It was half-past eight when she returned. There were stitches to be taken for the husband, who started on a short journey in the morning, and the only leisure of the day was gone forever.

She told me with a little tremble in her voice what the whispered confidences had been,—confessions of small deeds which the tender consciences were not quite sure about, questions about the right and wrong of school-room and play-ground ethics. "Why wasn't it right to copy from the next girl at the blackboard?" And the reticent Belle had said with a kiss and a hug, "Mamma, I don't think Edith has talks with her mother as we do, for when she told me a bad story to-day, I asked her what her mother would say when she told her, and she opened her eyes wide and said, 'Why, you don't suppose I tell my mother everything, do you?'"

Busy mothers, take courage and be happy; you may not be able to compass dainty housekeeping, elaborate cooking, and beautiful dress-making with such time and strength and help as you can command, but don't you dare to neglect or push aside these little children. Let all the rest go without a sigh, but keep fast hold of their love and confidence; watch the unfolding of their minds more earnestly than you do the baking of your cake; be more careful of the newly awakened conscience than you are of your new parlor curtains; take more time to think over the problems of each child's inherited temperament than you do the best way to make pickles. These things perish with the using, but souls look out of the blue, and black, and gray eyes. Whether they are to make the most of their faculties, their temperaments, and their education, depends very much on how you understand them, and how you help them.—Mary Blake, in Congregationalist.

HOW ARE you growing, boys, straight or crooked? Now is the time, while you are young, to lay the foundation for an upright, erect manhood. Honesty, truthfulness, industry, and obedience are the four brightest stones in the formation of your character; build on these, boys, and you are sure to grow straight; while, on the other hand, a character without these attributes is sure to be an evil one.

You are boys now, but soon you will be men. Do you mean to grow into good or evil men? Do you mean to be idle, disobedient, and untruthful, or do you mean to act nobly, work bravely, and make for yourselves a name which all who know will honor and respect? Now is the time for you to decide.—Christian at Work.