A LITTLE TEMPER | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Oct 17, 1900

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 26, No. 42.

A LITTLE TEMPER.

"HE'S the very best boy in the world; his only fault is a little temper." This was the text from which Mrs. Keyes had preached since the time when Willis was old enough to make his demands in broken, cooing words, and beat his head upon the floor with loud screams if these demands were not complied with. Sisters, cousins, and aunts had echoed the chorus, until, as Willis grew to manhood, he began to look upon his uncomfortable disposition as an enviable distinction, and was quite free in his contemptuous allusions to the boys "who hadn't a bit of spunk." In his own home, the brief restraint he had experienced from his father ended with the latter's death, when the boy was five years of age. Neither mother nor sisters dared venture to oppose his wishes, lest opposition should bring on one of his attacks; and friends became cautious and reserved in his presence, since the people who were attracted by his bright, handsome face, his generous, open ways, were disenchanted when they came in contact with the stubborn self-will and selfishness which lay concealed under that prepossessing exterior.

Yet it seemed hard and unkind to call Willis selfish. He never shirked his duties; he was fair and generous with his playmates, ready to bear his part in school or playground. He had risked his life more than once for his fellows on the skating pond or in rescuing the inexperienced from the deep waters in summer. He would watch with a sick schoolmate night after night, tending him as kindly and carefully as a woman, and he had a natural aversion to what was low and base, which made him a sort of mentor among the younger boys. Counting over to himself his numerous virtues, as was often his custom, he could never understand why it was that the boys feared him rather than loved him, and shut him so completely out of their confidences. "You know I was a little out of temper," seemed to him ample apology for any deed committed during these frequent outbursts.

Time went on, and Willis graduated from the law school, which had succeeded the academy. His joy was unbounded when he received from an old friend of his father—a famous lawyer in another part of the State—a proposal to enter his office.

"I make you this offer," wrote Judge Caton, "not only because of my old friendship for your father, but because I have heard from your instructors such favorable reports of your talents, morals, and business habits. Without these recommendations I should not have felt justified in taking you into my office, however strong my wish to help the son of an old friend might be."

It was a letter which stimulated Willis's self-conceit to the utmost. As he boarded the train which was to take him to his destination, his only feeling was, not that so great good fortune had befallen him, but that he so well deserved it.

The station where they stopped for dinner was close and crowded, and he rushed out on the platform to see, as he supposed, his valise, which he had left for a moment, vanishing up the steps of the rear car in the grasp of an elderly woman.

Willis' anger was at its height. He rushed through the crowd of hurrying passengers, elbowing his way to left and right, to the alarm and dismay of the belated host, pushed an officious brakeman to one side, swung himself to the platform, and, crowding down the aisle, brought the offender to a standstill, as he roughly snatched the valise from her grasp.

"This is my property, madam!" he began in thunder tones; "and I would advise you in future to be careful as to whose belongings you appropriate."

The roused, indignant look in the lady's eyes, as she turned toward him, only added to his wrath. Unheeding her attempt at explanation, he poured forth a torrent of rage and vituperation, until the conductor's hand upon his coat collar brought him to his senses.

"This car is for ladies and gentlemen," said that official, with a quiet emphasis on the last word. "Madam, if this valise is your property, will you kindly demonstrate it by opening it."

As she took a key from her purse and fitted it to the lock, Willis, rapidly recovering his senses, saw how refined and beautiful was the face turned toward him, how elegant the finish of the dark, plain traveling suit.

The lock yielded beneath her fingers, and the satchel opened, revealing a mass of tucked and ruffled muslin, which brought the color in a sudden flood to her accuser's cheeks.

"Is the young man satisfied?" she asked, with quite irony.

And, followed by the jeering laughter of his fellow-passengers, Willis, covered with shame and confusion, sank into his seat to brood over his discomfiture.

He had not yet recovered his spirits when he presented himself the next morning at his employer's office, nor was he reassured by the look of surprise and disappointment Judge Caton bestowed upon him.

"And you are Willis Keyes," he said slowly, piercing him through and through with his sharp glance. "For your father's sake I will pay your fare home; but I regret to say that I can not take you into my office."

"But, sir, I do not understand," faltered Willis.

"Let me explain. I was on the train yesterday at Newmarket, and witnessed the disgraceful scene in which you were the principal actor. Nothing would induce me to take into business with myself a young man so utterly lacking in deference to age and womanhood, so oblivious of the common proprieties of life, and so completely destitute of self-control. Go back to your home, young sir, and remember that no man need expect to conquer the world till he has first learned to conquer himself."

It was a bitter lesson; but Willis, in his humiliation, did not deny his need of its teachings. Then and there he registered a vow that this enemy should be struggled with and overcome. There were many battles to be fought, many temptations to meet, but in the end he conquered; and now, in his own beautiful home, surrounded by the wealth and beauty he has acquired through years of faithful and persistent toil, the one fault which is never condoned in his children, which is constantly held up before them in all its enormity, is "a little temper."—Christian Weekly.