Only A Geranium Slip by Mrs. C. H. Addicks

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · May 24, 1883

Only A Geranium Slip.

By Mrs. C. H. Addicks

LITTLE Mag Shivers, with her soiled dress, bare feet, and tangled, chestnut curls, crouched under a wall, munching some bread which a kind hand had thrown her. Now and then she looked at the gate wistfully, wishing it might open and give her just another peep at the splendid flower-beds inside. The day before, the gardener had thrown it wide upon its hinges while his wheelbarrow passed out, and the sight remained in her memory like a glimpse of fairyland. If she could only see it again!

While the child sat longing, something dropped from the wall above, struck her shoulder softly, and fell to the ground. It was only a small green sprig without a blossom, and it looked so forlorn after the vision upon which she had been feasting, that she was about to throw it away. Just then a good-natured looking woman with a basket on her arm, came out from the gate opposite, and she smiled so kindly, Mag was emboldened to run across the street and show it to her.

"Plant it, you'll have a nice red flower by-and-by. That's a slip from the geranium over there," and the woman nodded her head at the garden Mag admired.

Geranium was a big word to ignorant little Mag. It gave her no idea of the flower, but it flashed through her mind, it was just possible it might grow into one of the grand red flowers she had seen; and she forgot all about her bread, and ran up the street with her treasure.

The day was warm and she was a long way from home, so the little green stalk grew very dry, and the pretty leaves began to curl. Mag was just ready to cry, it looked so wilted.

"Hallo! what's up?" asked a little boy, seeing the tears gather in her great brown eyes, but Mag only ran away. She was used to very rough boys, and he might snatch it from her hands.

By-and-by she reached a gutter where the water was running freely. She sat down on the curb, and let the water cool her burning feet. She laid the thirsty little sprig beside them. It seemed so glad, it threatened to float away with the current, till she caught and held it a prisoner between her feet. Presently the leaves stiffened and looked so refreshed that Mag ran home with it quite encouraged.

She found an old tin can on her way, and a bit of broken glass with which she scooped it full of dirt.

A rusty cup half full of water lay by the straw that served her for a bed. She poured it over the slip as she thrust it into the can. It would be sure to grow now, because her Sunday-school teacher had told her God made the flowers for everybody. Her heart was full of faith as she poured the grateful little stream over the dry earth.

There was no sunshine able to penetrate the soiled panes in Mag's miserable little room. Mag was used to dirt, and the landlord had been so cross when he replaced the broken panes that Mag never touched them. The slip, being constantly watered, did not suffer for the sunshine for a few days, but by-and-by it drooped again for lack of it.

Then God did not mean to let it grow, after all! And Mag, who was an orphan with no one at home to explain away her perplexities but a harsh old grandmother, was sorely troubled. "Don't bother me with your old weed; or I'll pitch it out!" was all the satisfaction Mag received when she ventured to appeal to her.

Then it occurred to Mag to ask her Sunday-school teacher. "Do you give it plenty of sunshine?" asked Miss Sweetzer, as the child told her trouble.

A light broke in upon Mag. She gathered some papers from the ash heap, filled her tin cup with water, and scoured her window panes till her pale cheeks were all aglow. Her heart leaped when the first warm, golden ray streamed in across her plant. And how much more cheerful the little room seemed, now the windows were clean! Mag could see the house opposite, and the trees, and the church tower, with its blue-faced clock and gilt hands. Even the sour old grandmother noticed the improvement, and set her to cleaning up the windows down stairs. But this was not all. Now that the light came in clear and strong, it lit up the dirty corners, and that brought the old broom into brisker use.

The grateful plant seemed growing daily. There were hints of a scarlet bloom that Mag had seen before. She remembered the garden, and she felt so hopeful and happy that she helped grandmother with all her might. Between them things commenced to mend. Mag began to see grandmother's good points, and she to recognize Mag's. As the old woman grew cleaner, she became better tempered. She showed more interest in Mag, and seemed almost as pleased as the child when the geranium buds burst forth in their first gorgeous flowers.

But the change for the better did not stop here. The neighbors began to notice how much better grandmother's house looked than theirs, so they undertook to clean up also. The benevolent society, visiting the district, inquired who had started the improvement, and rewarded grandmother with a nice, bright carpet on her best room and a neat paper on her walls. One lady, who had a little daughter about Mag's age, made up a nice bundle for her of old dresses and a stout pair of shoes. In these better clothes Mag was pronounced fit for the public school. And now what started this good work? Only a neglected little slip of geranium. Tossed out to die, it yet had its use in the world, for the wise God wastes nothing.—Mrs. C. H. Addicks.