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A Smile for Home

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Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Apr 10, 1879

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 5, No. 15.

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A Smile for Home.

"TAKE that home with you, my dear," said Mrs. Lewis, her manner half smiling, half serious.
"Take what home, Caddy?" and Mr. Lewis turned toward his wife curiously.
Now, Mrs. Lewis had spoken from the moment's impulse, and already partly regretted her remark.
"Take what home?" repeated her husband; "I don't understand you."
"That smiling face you turned upon Mr. Edwards, when you answered his question just now."
Mr. Lewis slightly averted his head and walked on in silence. They had called in at the store of Mr. Edwards to purchase a few articles, and were now on their way home. There was no smile on the face of Mr. Lewis now, but a grave expression instead—grave almost to sternness. The words of his wife had taken him altogether by surprise; and though spoken lightly, jarred upon his ears.
The truth was, Mr. Lewis, like a great many other men who have their own business cares and troubles, was in the habit of bringing home, and too often, a clouded face. It was in vain that his wife and children looked into that face for sunshine, or listened to his words for tones of cheerfulness.
"Take that home with you, dear," Mrs. Lewis was already repeating the suggestion, made on the moment's impulse. Her husband was sensitive to a fault. He could not bear even an implied censure from his wife, and so she had learned to be very guarded in this particular.
"Take that home with you, dear. Ah, me! I wish these words had not been said. There will be darker clouds now, and they were dark enough before! Why can't Mr. Lewis leave his cares and business behind him, and let us see the old, pleasant, smiling face again? I thought this morning he had forgotten how to smile! but I see that he can smile if he tries. And, why don't he try at home?" So Mrs. Lewis talked to herself, as she moved along by the side of her husband, who had not spoken a word since her reply to his query.
"Take what home?" Block after block was passed, and street after street crossed, and still there was silence between them.
"Of course," said Mrs. Lewis, speaking in her own thoughts, "of course he is offended. He won't bear a word from me. I might have known beforehand that talking cut this way would only make things worse. Oh, dear! I'm getting out of all heart!"
"What then, Caddy?"
Mrs. Lewis almost started at the sound of her husband's voice, breaking unexpectedly upon her ear in a softened tone.
"What then?" he repeated, turning towards her, and looking down into her shyly upturned face.
"It would send warmth and radiance through the whole house," said Mrs. Lewis, her tones all trembling with feeling.
"You think so?"
"I know so! Only try it, dear, for this one evening."
"It isn't so easy a thing, to put on a smiling face, Caddy, when thought is oppressed with care."
"It didn't seem to require much effort just now," said Mrs. Lewis, glancing up at her husband with something of an archness in her look.
Again the shadow dropped down upon the face of Mr. Lewis, which was again partly turned away; and again they walked on in silence.
"He is so sensitive!" Mrs. Lewis said to herself, the shadow on her husband's face darkened over her own. "I have to be as careful of my words as if talking to a spoiled child."
No, it did not require much effort on the part of Mr. Lewis to smile, as he passed a few words lightly with Mr. Edwards. The remark of his wife had only set him to thinking. After remaining gravely silent, because he was undergoing a brief self-examination, Mr. Lewis said:
"You thought the smile given to Mr. Edwards came easily enough?"
"It didn't seem to require an effort," replied Mrs. Lewis.
"No, not much effort was required," said Mr. Lewis. His tones were slightly depressed. "But this must be taken into the account; my mind was in a certain state of excitement, or activity, that repressed sober feelings and made smiling an easy thing. So we smile and are gay in company, at the cost of a little effort, because all are smiling and gay, and we feel the common sphere of excitement. How different it often is when we are alone, I need not say. You, Caddy, are guilty of a sober face at home as well as your husband." Mr. Lewis spoke with a tender reproof in his voice.
"But the sober face is caught from yours oftener than you imagine, my husband," replied Mrs. Lewis.
"Are you certain of that, Caddy?"
"Very certain. You make the sunshine and shadow of your home. Smile upon us; give us cheerful words; enter into our feelings and interests, and there will be no brighter home in all the land. A shadow on your countenance is a veil for my heart; and the same is true as respects our children. Our pulses strike too nearly in union, not to be disturbed when yours has lost its even beat."
Again Mr. Lewis walked on in silence, his face partly averted; and again his wife began to fear she had spoken too freely. But he soon dispelled this impression, for he said:
"I am glad, Caddy, that you have spoken thus plainly. I only wish that you had done so before. I see how it is; my smiles have been for the outside world—the world that neither loved nor cared for me—and my clouded brow for the dear ones at home, for whom thought and care are ever-living activities."
Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were now at their own door, where they paused a moment, and went in. Instantly on passing his threshold, Mr. Lewis felt the pressure upon him of his usual state. The hue of his feelings began to change. The cheerful, interested exterior put on for those he met in business intercourse began rapidly to change, and a sober hue, to succeed. Like most business men, his desire for profitable results was even far in advance of the slow evolutions of trade; and his daily history was a history of disappointments, in some measure dependent upon his restless anticipations. He was not willing to work and to wait, as he should be; and, like many of his class, neglected the pearls that lay here and there along his life-paths, because the best were inferior in value to those he hoped to find just a little way in advance. The consequence was, that, when the day's business was over, his mind fell into a brooding state, and lingered over its disappointments, or looked forward with failing hope in the future—for hope in many things had long been deferred. And so he rarely had smiles for his home.
"Take that home with you, dear," whispered Mrs. Lewis, as they moved along the passage, and before they had joined the family. She had an instinctive consciousness that her husband was in danger of relapsing into his usual state.
The warning was just in time.
"Thank you for the words," said he, "I will not forget them."
And he did not; but at once rallied himself, and, to the glad surprise of Jennie, Will, and Mary, met them with a new face, covered with fatherly smiles, and with pleasant questions in pleasant tones of their day's employments. The feelings of children move in quick transitions. They had not expected a greeting like this; but the response was immediate. Little Jennie climbed into her father's arms. Will came and stood by his chair, answering in lively tones his questions, while Mary, older by a few years than either of the others, leaned against her father's shoulder and laid her white hand upon his head, smoothing back the dark hair, just showing a little frost, from his broad, manly temples.
A pleasant group was this for the eyes of Mrs. Lewis as she came forth from her chamber to the sitting-room, where she had gone to lay off her bonnet and shawl and change her dress. Well did her husband understand the meaning look she gave him; and warmly did her heart respond to the smile he threw back upon her.
"Words fitly spoken are like apples of gold in pictures of silver," said Mr. Lewis, speaking to her as she came in.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Mary, looking curiously into her father's face.
"Mother understands," replied Mr. Lewis, smiling tenderly upon his wife.
"Something pleasant must have happened," said Mary.
"Something pleasant? Why do you say that?" asked Mr. Lewis.
"You and mother look so happy," replied the child.
"And we have cause to be happy," answered the father, as he drew his arm tightly around her, "In having three such good children."
Mary laid her cheek to his and whispered: "If you are smiling and happy dear father, home will be like heaven."
Mr. Lewis kissed her, but did not reply. He felt a rebuke in her words. But the rebuke did not throw a chill over his feeling; it only gave a new strength to his purpose.
"Don't distribute all your smiles. Keep a few of the warmest and brightest for home," said Mrs. Lewis, as she parted with her husband on the next morning.
He kissed her, but did not promise. The smiles were kept however, and evening saw them, though not for the outside world. Other and many evenings saw the same cheerful smiles, and the same happy home. And was not Mr. Lewis a better and happier man? Of course he was. And so would all men be if they would take home with them the smiling aspect with which they meet their fellow men in business intercourse, or exchange words in passing compliments. Take your smiles and cheerful words home with you, husbands, fathers and brothers. Your hearths are dark and cold without them.
—Sel.