Rose Leaves | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 26, 1882

Rose Leaves.

SOME one has beautifully said, "Kindness is stowed away in the heart like rose leaves in a drawer, to sweeten every object around."

A little girl of about nine years old was walking along a muddy street in Chicago; her father held her hand, and seemed very tender in his care of her. The quality and style of their garments hinted strongly of wealth, while the strong, good face of the father, and the loving, sweet one of his child, told of something better than wealth—even of depth of hearts.

Just as they reached a crossing, where the mud was thicker and the wind blew stronger, and vehicles of all descriptions passed each other in tiresome confusion, they noticed a poorly clad old woman, on whose trembling arm rested a large basket heavily laden, standing on the corner, as if fearful of crossing over. She looked anxiously at the whirling carts, and deprecatingly at passers-by. No one seemed to heed her as the well-dressed throng hurried by.

"Come, Edith," said the father; "this is a dangerous crossing, papa will carry you over."

He put out his strong arms, as he spoke, lovingly. But the child only whispered:— "Papa, I have rubbers; I'm not afraid of the mud. Papa, see the poor woman—she seems afraid of something; see how she trembles. Couldn't you help her, papa, while I run on ahead?"

For answer the gentleman approached the old woman, saying, in a low voice:— "This is a tiresome crossing, madam; let me lead you across; give me the basket, please."

Could you have seen the rested and thankful look on that weary old face, as the woman found herself on the other side, all safe, I think you would have echoed her fervent cry:— "God bless that man, and the blessed child, too!"

Of course there were sneering smiles on some countenances which witnessed the quiet act of helpfulness, but it mattered not as long as one knew that around the great white throne there were smiles of joy because two of his followers had not in selfishness neglected doing a favor to even the "least of these."

Into a very elegant palace car entered a weary-faced, poorly-dressed woman with three little children, a babe in arms. A look of joy crept into her face as she sat down in one of the luxurious chairs. But it was quickly dispelled as she was asked to "start her boots."

A smile of amusement was seen on several faces as the frightened group hurried out to enter one of the common cars. Upon one young face, however, there was a look which shamed the countenance of the others. "Auntie," said the boy to the lady beside him, "I'm going to carry my basket of fruit and these sandwiches to the poor woman in the next car. You are willing, of course."

He spoke eagerly, but she answered, "Don't be foolish, dear; you may need them yourself, and that woman may be an imposter."

"No, I'll not need them," he answered decidedly, but in a very low tone. "You know I had a hearty breakfast, and don't need a lunch. The woman looks hungry, auntie, and so tired, too, with those three little babies clinging to her. I'll be back in a minute, auntie. I know mother wouldn't like it if I didn't speak a kind word to the 'least of these' whenever I meet them."

The worldly aunt brushed a tear from her eye after the boy left her, and, audibly, "Just like his mother!"

About five minutes later, as a lady passed the mother and three children, she saw a pretty sight—the family feasting as perhaps they never had before. The dainty sandwiches were eagerly devoured, the tempting fruit-basket stood open.

The oldest child, with her mouth filled with bread and butter, said, "Was the pretty boy an angel, mamma?"

"No," answered the mother, as a grateful look brightened her faded eyes, "God bless his dear little heart."

And we too said, "Bless his heart."—Sel.