A Lesson from Solomon by Emily H. Miller

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Nov 27, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 45.

A Lesson from Solomon.

By Emily H. Miller

MRS. WALLACE looked up from the work over which her needle was rapidly flying, and for one astonished moment let her hands fall in her lap, while her indignant eyes flashed at her cousin.

"Jennie Carter, you must think I am an idiot; you are always triumphing over me with your Bible quotations, but I'm not such a goose as to accept that for inspiration; it doesn't even sound like Scripture."

Jennie laughed in her quiet fashion, and reached for the Bible from the table near her.

"It is Scripture, nevertheless, and I call it excellent philosophy, if it did come from Solomon."

"Oh, Solomon! Well, one never quite knows whether he is talking from the standpoint of the preacher or the man who set himself to know madness and folly."

"Listen," said Jennie, "you shall have the exact words: 'Also take no heed unto all words that are spoken, lest thou hear thy servant curse thee; for oftentimes also thine own heart knoweth that thou thyself likewise hast cursed others.'"

"Let me see it. Well, it certainly is there, but I never would have believed it."

"And don't you see," said Jennie, "that having counseled us sometimes to shut our eyes and ears to unpleasant things as the most comfortable way of getting along, the wise man enforces his argument by appealing to our own consciousness of its justice. How many things have you said and thought in your heart that would condemn you if they were proclaimed."

"But think of that shiftless, slatternly Norah telling Bridget that I was crosser than forty bears, and an angel from Heaven couldn't suit me!"

"She was only expressing her opinion of you to her friend, just as you are telling me your opinion of her."

"She is shiftless and slatternly—"

"And you are an admirable housekeeper, but a little inclined—"

Jennie paused, and Mrs. Wallace laughed but colored uncomfortably as she said frankly:—

"Yes, I know I am not amiable. I feel strongly and so I speak strongly. Words often seem to me entirely inadequate to express my feelings."

"But suppose you did not express them?"

"Not when I see Norah stirring her omelette with a new silver spoon, using a china cup to measure butter in, and a tea-towel for a holder? Just wait till you are mistress of a house, my lady."

"Do you remember Aunt Kate's way, and how many years she managed that crotchety Mary? Her girls used to say she had eyes in the back of her head, but this was the way she used them: She would find occasion to do something about the stove, and say, 'Bring me a holder, Mary! I won't spoil your nice towels,' or, 'That was a nice omelette you made this morning, Mary, but don't you think it tasted of silver?' And when Mary fairly started for one of her hurricane days, Aunt Kate just kept out of the way and pretended not to notice that anything was wrong."

"That may do with servants, perhaps, if any one has the grace, but when it comes to children you must notice their faults."

"Not always; it seems to me if I were pretty sure my children meant to do right I should not be too careful to inquire whether they succeeded in every instance. I declare to you, Melly, I have seen children in beautiful Christian homes whom I pitied as sincerely as I do the heathen on our streets, and who seem to me to have no chance of growing up with any adequate conception of right and wrong."

Mrs. Wallace murmured something about old maid's children, but her cousin went on:—

"They lived in perfect terror of transgressing some law, or calling down in some way a rebuke; they seemed to be always dodging a reproving glance or a word of criticism, just as the others dodge an expected blow. It seemed to me inevitable that they must either grow up utterly callous to reproof and disapproval, or become habitually deceitful and hypocritical."

Mrs. Wallace, whose eyes were always alert, started up, exclaiming sharply:—

"Now there goes Arthur straight across the lawn, and I charged him to keep off the wet grass."

"Wait a minute, Melly," begged her cousin; "don't you hear the band? The little fellow thinks of nothing but the music; he is not disobeying, only forgetting. Suppose you don't see him this time."

Mrs. Wallace frowned a little, but sat down, and in a few moments her little boy came in with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, wild with delight at the music and gay uniforms. It would have been a hard heart that could have resisted his enthusiasm, and Mrs. Wallace only said with a smile:—

"You're mamma's own boy for music, but don't forget about the grass; it is very wet after the rain."

"O mamma," said Arthur, looking regretfully at his feet, "I didn't think about the grass, I was in such a hurry. I'm so sorry."

"Never mind now," said his mother, "Mamma knows you meant to remember, and she'll excuse you."

"Nice mamma," said Arthur, patting her cheek as he ran away.

"Jennie," said Mrs. Wallace after a moment of silence, "Solomon was right. Do you know what I was going to do? I was going to call Arthur straight back and make him sit down in his chair half an hour for disobeying me. We should both have been angry, and ten to one I should have had one of my regular battles with him. I declare," she exclaimed, biting her lips, "there he goes on the grass again."

But the little fellow only took one impulsive step towards the playmate who was calling him, and then turned quickly and went by the long circuit of the gravel walk.

"There," said Jennie, "I call that obedience."

"I'm going straight down to praise Norah for the way she has polished the brasses, and if I find her raking out cinders with the carving-fork I'll hold my peace until some other time. Haven't I just snipped off a whale-bone with my embroidery-scissors to save myself going upstairs for a penknife?"

Mrs. Wallace went to the kitchen humming the march the band had played, and her cousin laid away the Bible, saying with an amused laugh, "Wise King Solomon."—Emily H. Miller, in Christian Weekly.