The Old Doctor's Story

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 8, 1885

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 38.

The Old Doctor's Story.

"I HAVE a little story to tell you, boys," the old doctor said to the young people the other evening. "One day—a long, hot day it had been, too—I met my father on the road into town.

"I wish you could take this package to the village for me, Jim," he said, hesitating.

"Now I was a boy of twelve, not fond of work, and was just out of the hay-field, where I had been at work since daybreak. I was tired, dusty, and hungry. It was two miles into town. I wanted to get my supper, and to wash and dress for singing-school.

"My first impulse was to refuse, and to do it harshly, for I was vexed that he should ask me after my long day's work. If I did refuse, he would go himself. He was a gentle, patient old man. But something stopped me: one of God's good angels, I think.

"Of course, father, I'll take it,' I said, heartily, giving my scythe to one of the men. He gave me the package.

"'Thank you, Jim,' he said, 'I was going myself, but somehow I don't feel very strong to-day.'

"He walked with me to the road that turned off to the town, and as he left put his hand on my arm, saying again, 'Thank you, my son, you've always been a good boy to me, Jim.'

"I hurried into town and back again. When I came near the house I saw a crowd of the farm-hands at the door. One of them came to me, the tears rolling down his face.

"'Your father!' he said. 'He fell dead just as he reached the house. The last words he spoke were to you.'

"I'm an old man now, but I have thanked God over and again in all the years that have passed since that hour, that those last words were, 'You've always been a good boy to me.'"

No human being ever yet was sorry for love or kindness shown to others. But there is no pang of remorse so keen as the bitterness with which we remember neglect or coldness which we have shown to loved ones who are dead.

Do not begrudge loving deeds and kind words, especially to those who gather with you about the same hearth. In many families a habit of nagging, crossness, or ill-natured gibing, gradually covers the real feeling of love that lies deep beneath.

And after all, it is such a little way that we can go together.—Sel.