p. 700 | Nell's Opportunities

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Nov 20, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 44.

Nell's Opportunities.

"A commonplace life, we say, and we sigh; But why should we sigh as we say? The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky Makes up the commonplace day. The moon and the stars are commonplace things, And the flower that blooms and the bird that sings; But dark were the world and sad our lot If the flowers failed and the sun shone not; And God, who studies each separate soul, Out of commonplace lives makes his beautiful whole."

"I wish that we could all do great things; it is so tiresome, I think, just being commonplace, don't you, mamma?" said Nell Weston, laying aside her book with a discontented sigh.

"What do you call 'commonplace,' and what 'great things' would you like to do?"

"Why, I call my life commonplace; it is nothing but doing housework, going to school, and amusing the children. I suppose that is all that it ever will be, only by-and-by I shall stop going to school. But O mamma, I wish I could be something great and good! If I could write a book and have lots of people writing to me, telling me how much it had helped them; or if I could be a great nurse like 'Sister Dora,' just giving my whole life up to doing good! But what is the use of thinking about it? There will never be any such chances for me."

"Nell, will you give me a five-dollar gold piece?"

Nell had been lounging on the sofa, but she suddenly sat upright and looked at her mother in blank astonishment.

"What did you say, mamma?" she asked, wondering if it could be possible that her mother was losing her mind.

"I asked you, please, to give me a five-dollar gold piece," replied Mrs. Weston, with a queer little twinkle in her eyes.

"But I cannot. You know as well as I do that I haven't more than ten cents to my name, and am not likely to have until I am old enough to earn it myself."

"My daughter," said Mrs. Weston earnestly, all traces of merriment gone now, "neither can you give to the world what you have not in your possession. You must acquire it first. Before you could write your book that should ennoble others, you must have noble, helpful thoughts in your heart; you must be noble and true yourself. You cannot lead others beyond yourself. And if you would do some great work of self-sacrifice, you must strive to become self-denying and Christlike habitually, else when the opportunity comes, it will find you as the bridegroom did the foolish virgins, not ready."

"But what if it never come?"

"You would be noble, true, and Christlike all the same. I think, however, that you will find the trouble is not that the opportunity fails to come, but that either we are not prepared, or else we fail to discover it."

"Do I have any? No, of course I have not had; but will I ever, do you suppose?"

"I think that you do have opportunities every day of your life, little daughter."

"Mamma Weston, what can you mean?" asked Nell, with an exclamation point after every word.

"Just what I say, dear. Now there was yesterday's. You half promised to go and sit with Maggie Deane, but when Cora Clarke came for you to go to ride with her, you gave Maggie up and went. Poor Maggie had a long, lonely afternoon, all the harder to bear because she had been anticipating your coming all the week. You had the opportunity and you did not use it."

"It was too bad, I know," said Nell, regretfully; "but then, after all, it was only a little thing."

"But it was too much for you, you see."

Nell was silent for some time. By and by she turned to her mother with the question:—

"Are such little things the same as great things?"

"Certainly, exactly the same in principle. You will find that these lives of self-sacrifice which look so tempting as you read of them, are hard to live. Hannah More says that when we read, we think we could be martyrs, but when we come to act, we cannot bear a provoking word. But every victory gained over self makes us stronger, and as fast as we deserve promotion, he grants it. If you really deserve a post of honor, you must see that you are fitted for it, and be willing to endure the hardships if you would win the glory. And remember, that for all we give up for Christ, we receive an hundredfold back. There is no happiness like that found in giving our whole selves up to Christ. Carlyle speaks truly when he says that with self-renunciation begins life."

Again Nell relapsed into silence. Sometimes she wished that she was a Christian, and then again it looked so hard to be always struggling to be good, so easy and comfortable just to please one's self, that she could not make up her mind. She was halting betwixt two opinions.

"Mamma," she said presently, "I wish people turned good all at once. I am like the old chief who came to Dr. Livingstone, and wanted some medicine to take for his wicked, angry heart. I would not mind one real hard fight; it is the keeping at it all your life that discourages me."

"But it is only to those who endure to the end, who are faithful unto death, that the crown is promised. Isn't that reward worth struggling for, even all the days of your life? O my precious daughter, you are willing to work day after day and year after year for the education you covet so much, why will you not strive to obtain the prize without which all else profiteth nothing?"

Nell nestled back among the pillows and gave herself up to her own meditations and dreams. She liked to read of lives of heroism and noble self-sacrifice. She liked almost, if not quite, as well to dream of herself as such a character, but—oh dear, could she deny herself in a thousand ways every day of her life?

Just then her thoughts and the Sabbath afternoon stillness were broken into by an importunate, childish voice.

"I say, mamma, won't you come down-stairs now? We are tired of 'musing ourselves, and want you to read to us."

It was Teddy's voice, and Margie, of course, was with him, for the two were inseparable. "'Cause we's twinses," Margie said.

Mamma laid down her book. Nell, watching her through her half-closed eyes, saw her give just a wee bit of a sigh. Mamma's chances for quiet thought and her beloved "Imitation" were few and far between.

"Why don't you go down and read to the children, and let your mother rest? She has to work hard all the week," whispered something or somebody very distinctly in Nell's ear.

But she only nestled closer down in the pillows. It was so comfortable here, and she wanted to think; besides, she hated to read to the children—Teddy was sure to ask such awful questions. She had to study hard herself all the week, and she did not want to go.

"Very hard you have to work for a strong, healthy girl!" whispered back the little voice, just as distinctly as though Nell's head was not buried in the pillows. "I thought you hated shams, and were always saying that you would be a thing and not pretend to be. Seems to me you are wanting to seem to be what you are not."

Nell's face colored. Mamma had reached the door by this time. Oh, dear! should she let her go? The door was open now; she must decide one way or the other.

"I'll go down, if you would like to rest. I can make out to 'muse' them I guess."

"Thank you, ever so much, dear. I would like to rest a little longer."

"What you a-comin' for?" asked Teddy in surprise, as Nell walked into the room. "We want mamma, not you."

"But mamma is tired and wants to rest a little. Won't I do just as well?"

"Nobody can do just as well as mamma," replied Teddy decidedly, for he was not particularly troubled with bashfulness or delicacy of feeling.

Nell felt strongly tempted for a minute to give it up, but resisting the temptation, she said pleasantly:—

"Suppose, now that I am here, you try me, and see if I don't do pretty well."

"I 'pose we'll have to; here's the book."

Nell sat down in the big chair by the window; Margie brought her little rocker over beside Nell, while Teddy established himself in front of them. The book, which was one that Teddy had drawn from the Sunday-school library, was the story of a little boy, Bobby by name, whose way as a transgressor was very hard; but who at last, profiting by hard experience, found the paths of virtue were indeed paths of peace.

The children listened almost breathlessly. Nell became quite interested herself.

"Had a pretty hard time, didn't he?" commented Teddy, as she finished. "Seems to me I'd been good before, if I'd been in his place. 'Twould have saved him lots of trouble."

"May be he didn't know that," suggested Margie.

"Oh, you ain't through yet," interrupted Teddy, as Nell made a motion to rise. "You've got to make the application now. Mamma says it don't do any good to read good books unless

you 'ply 'em to your own life, and try to profit by them. She 'plys 'em pretty hard sometimes, so you needn't be afraid of hurting us. Go ahead now, fast as you've a mind to."

Two thoughts went flashing through Nell's mind as she settled back in her chair. Had she missed the good of her reading by failing to apply its principles and teachings to her own life? And also how could she give a helpful application of even this simple story to these children? Mamma was right. One must have, before giving to others. Still, there they were waiting; she would do the best she could.

"I think," she said slowly and hesitatingly, "that you ought to learn from this story how very sure we are to get into trouble when we do wrong, and that even if it is hard, you will be a great deal happier when you are trying to do right."

"How do you know, do you try yourself?"

Nell's face crimsoned. Teddy did ask such saucy questions! But something kept the angry words unspoken. "After all, was it any wonder that he asked the question?" whispered a little voice. Had she ever given him cause to think she knew the truth of what she was saying?

"Not as much as I ought, little brother," she said gently. "But, suppose that we all try harder than ever, and see if it isn't so; will we?"

"I will," whispered Margie, laying her hand lovingly in Nell's.

"Guess you've been trying this afternoon, haven't you?" asked the incorrigible Ted.

"Some," replied Nell, laughingly.

"Well, you've done pretty well, hope you will keep on. I think your lots nicer."

"I believe—that I will keep on," was Nell's last thought before dropping to sleep that night.—Christian Secretary.