TURNING THE GLASS.
Johnny did a good deal of thinking, at odd times, the next day, and the
more he thought, the more he saw why his mother had wanted him to think,
before their next talk. As he picked up his injuries, and looked at them
one by one, trying to do it as if he had been somebody else, they looked
so very different, that he wondered how he could have been so blind, and
when his mother came, as usual, for the talk, he was inclined to beg
off from going into particulars. But he decided not to, for he was very
certain that he had never yet been sorry for talking things out with his
mother. So he faced the music, and declared himself ready to “begin at
the beginning and go on to the end.”
“What was the first thing that went wrong?” inquired Mrs. Leslie, as she
touched up Johnny’s hair with her nice soft fingers, adding, before he
could answer, “You shall tell me how the things looked to you yesterday,
and then I will turn the glass for you.”
“The first thing,” said Johnny, “was, that when I got up my room
was cold—or no, not exactly cold, perhaps, but sort of chilly and
uncomfortable, and when I opened the register, only cold, cellar-y air
came up; and you know, mamma, that generally, when I turn on the heat,
it’s warm in five minutes.”
“What a comfortable state of things!” said his mother, “to have, always,
a nice warm room in which to wash and dress, and what a good thing it was
that on the very night when, for the first time in weeks, the furnace
fire went out, the weather was so mild that the house was only chilly,
not really cold. Next!”
“A button came off my new jacket, and though it was the last one, and
didn’t matter much, just for one day, it provoked me to have it come off
then, when I was in a hurry.”
“It was such a good thing that it wasn’t the top button!” said his
mother, brightly, “and that I had a new jacket at all, at all! Next!”
“I said my prayers too fast, mamma, and I’m afraid I didn’t think them
much.”
“There is nothing to make up for that, dear,” said his mother, gravely
and sadly; “but the ‘hearty repentance,’ and ‘steadfast purpose’ can
follow even that downfall, as I think you know.”
“I’d be in a bad way if I didn’t, mamma, for it does seem to me that I go
down just as fast as I get up! Then I was provoked that I came so near
being late for breakfast; I was only just in time, you know, for all I’d
got up when I was called.”
“But you were in time, dear, and it was not your fault that the button
came off your jacket, and delayed you, so that should not have worried
you. Well, what came next?”
“Oh mamma, you’ll think I’m only a baby!” and Johnny hid his face in his
mother’s neck. “I was vexed because we had flannel cakes for breakfast,
instead of buckwheat cakes!”
“But they were such very good flannel cakes. And that new maple syrup
would almost have made them seem good, even if they had been poor.”
“I know—it was only because I was in such a bad humor. The next was
my book strap; I suppose I did pull too hard, for I felt like pulling
something. But it was such a nice strap, when it was new, and such a
bother to carry my books in a piece of twine! And the ridiculous things
went flying all over the entry—or ’most all over.”
“And a kind little sister flew to the rescue, and was too loving even
to know that she was growled at,” answered Mrs. Leslie, “and a dear old
mother came forward in the handsomest manner, without even waiting to be
asked, and subscribed the price of a new strap for the sufferer.”
“A dear young, lovely, beautiful mother!” and Johnny gave her a hug which
made her beg for mercy. Then he went on.
“My hat blew off just as I was passing Jim’s place, and he clapped it on
my head about five times as hard as he needed to, but you’ll have to let
me tell the other end of that, mamma. It was nearly in the gutter when he
caught it, and the gutter was full of dirty water and mud, and I never
half thanked him, because I was afraid he was making fun of me. Then I
had to run to make up the time I had lost talking to Jim, and I just
saved my distance—the bell rang before I was fairly in my seat.”
“Then you were in time to answer to your name, and didn’t get a bad mark.
That was a comfort. Next!”
“I was ’most ready to fight Ned, because he said he was taller than I am,
and he walked off and left me, and didn’t come near me all the rest of
the day.”
“And so avoided having a quarrel with you, for I suppose he saw that if
you stayed together you would be very apt to quarrel. I think that was
sensible.”
“Yes, I know it was, now, and I’m very glad he did it, but it only made
me more provoked, then. The next was, I had to do all my sums over twice,
and some of them three times, and I missed a question, and lost my place
in the mental arithmetic class—my place that I’ve kept all this term,
next but one to the head, and ’most all the boys in the class are older
than I am.”
“I have noticed that you were careless about your arithmetic lessons
lately,” said his mother, “I think you have depended too much upon your
natural quickness, and not enough upon study, and I hope that these two
little defeats will be the cause of far greater victories.”
“Yes, mamma, I think they will. I didn’t think it was worth while
to study that lesson much, but I know it is, now. Then I had a most
ridiculous tumble, just as I was leaving the playground, and my books
went flying again. I was glad there was nobody by but one of the little
fellows, and he didn’t laugh a bit. He asked me if I was hurt, as if
he’d been my grandfather, and helped me pick up my books, too; he’s a
good little chap; so that’s the other end of that! Then they hadn’t
any book straps left at the store, and Mr. Dutton couldn’t promise me
one for certain till this afternoon, because he had to have it made at
Skilley’s.”
“Then you will be sure of a good strong, well-made one, for all the work
they do at Skilley’s seems to be well done. It was worth waiting, to have
a better strap, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, mamma, such a little wait as that. I got it this afternoon, and it
is a beauty—nearly twice as long as the old one, and with such a nice
strong buckle. And he didn’t charge a bit more, either. Yes, I see it,
now; I was looking through the wrong end of the spyglass, all yesterday.
But how can anybody see a thing when he doesn’t see it, mamma? I couldn’t
have seen everything this way yesterday, no matter how hard I might have
tried.”
“Are you quite sure about that, dear?” asked Mrs. Leslie. “If you had
tried _very_ hard, from the beginning, don’t you think you could have
turned your spyglass, by school time at latest? When things seem to be
going wrong, we have only to behave as we should do if we had lost some
earthly possession, that we valued very much,—look carefully back to
where the trouble seemed to begin, and then, if we can, set straight
whatever went wrong there. You may be very sure, always, when you feel
as you felt yesterday morning, that you are the one chiefly, if not
wholly, in fault, and you should lose no time in arresting yourself, and
pronouncing sentence.
“And another thing; you had far better accuse yourself wrongly a dozen
times, than anybody else once. Few things grow upon people so fast as
complaining, and suspecting, and fault-finding do; and few faults cause
more unhappiness to the people who commit them, for to anybody on the
look out for slights and disagreeable things, they are to be found
everywhere, and all the time. So watch the beginnings, dear. There is
the whole thing, in two words, ‘Watch and pray.’”
“I hope I’m not going to be one of those dreadful people!” and Johnny
sighed. The “Hill Difficulty” looked rather long and steep, just then.
“I don’t think you are, my darling,” said his mother, cheerfully.
“Knowing the danger is half the battle, and I think you are awake to
it, now. If you wish to think kindly of people, make them think kindly
of you; lose no opportunity to help, and comfort, and do good, and you
will find it more and more easy to believe in the good-will of every one
around you.”
“You’ve turned the field-glass around for me again, mamma. What a poor
concern I’d be if it wasn’t for you! But as long as you don’t give up,
I’ll try not to, though it’s pretty discouraging sometimes; now isn’t it?”
“It would be,” said his mother, with another loving kiss, “if we did not
so well ‘know in whom we have believed.’ He lets us cast _all_ our care
on Him, for He is ‘mighty to save.’ Now good-night, darling. It is high
time you were asleep. To-morrow will be a bright, brand-new day!”