Small Attentions by Margaret Sangster

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Aug 11, 1909

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 36, No. 31.

Small Attentions

By Margaret Sangster

COUSIN BETTY came home from her visit to the Landers, simply brimming over with new ideas. It was a way she had, this of gathering up hints and suggestions from people she met, and harvesting them for future use. The day after her return she glanced over the garden brilliant with autumnal bloom, and over the grape arbor fragrant with its burden of purple fruit. “We never in the world can use all these grapes,” she said to Marie, who was the lady of the manor, “and don’t you think it would be a good plan to let Harold carry some of them to old Mrs. Minturn? She has been an invalid so long that she doesn’t have little attentions paid to her of the kind that invalids enjoy. While Harold is on the road he may as well take a bunch of sweet peas to Margaret Archer.” “Of course,” replied Marie. “But Betty, what has put it in your mind to send flowers and fruit to those good neighbors?”

“Don’t give me the credit,” answered Cousin Betty. “I have been spending a fortnight with the Landers. I was never more impressed anywhere than while in that lovely home with the persistent stream of good-will that flows from it in every direction. Marion must keep a list, I fancy, of friends who are ill or a bit under the weather, for jellies and delicacies, broth, salad, preserves, anything that will tempt a fastidious appetite, are unobtrusively sent to somebody nearly every day. As for flowers, the Landers’ garden is as much for the pleasure of their friends as for their own gratification. They furnish the flowers

for the pulpit every Sunday, and when the children are going to school, it is no uncommon thing to see them stop and ask for a rose or a pink with a geranium leaf to carry to their teachers.” “What a lot of trouble the Landers must take,” said Marie. “Not so much trouble as thought,” was Betty’s answer.

These small attentions cost little, but they give no end of delight. They are like the cup of cold water to which is promised the blessing of the Saviour’s, “Inasmuch as ye did it to one of these little ones, ye did it unto Me.” There is a whole volume of meaning in that word cold, when one remembers that in Eastern lands, with the tropic warmth and torrid sunshine, it is not easy for any one to give a cup of ice-cold water. It would have to be drawn from the depth of the well. The small attentions that tax no one’s mind, that make no show, that call for no overpowering gratitude, seem to me to belong in the catalog of our Christian duties.—Margaret Sangster.