"Affairs which look small or absurd to a full-grown man may loom up as
big as a mountain to a child; and you shouldn't allow a fact that you
saw a thing 'so much that I am sick of it,' to turn you away from an
inquiring child. _You_ wasn't sick of it, on that far-past day on which
you first saw it. I always look back, happily and proudly, to taking
a small girl to our City Florist's big glass building; to a group at
our Night Court; a group finding out about dispatching our mail; and
our circus! Boy! That _was_ fun! Our awarding diplomas at City Hall;
tiny Marian at our airport's inauguration; our Manual Training School
graduation. _All_ that did a big lot toward showing Youth that this
big world is 'not half bad,' if adults will but watch, aid, and coach.
And I _will not_ stand anybody's snapping at a child! Particularly a
tiny tot. If you think that you _must_ snap, snap at a child so big as
to snap back. I don't sanction 'talking back' to adults, but, ha, ha!
I _did_ find a grand, big _wallop_ in Marian's April Fool cigar! Woo!
_Did_ Old Bill jump!! But that did no harm, and a sad young mind found
a way to 'match things up' with an antagonist. Now, just stand a child
up against your body. How tall is it? Possibly only up to your hip.
Still, a man,--or an animal _thinking_ that it is a man--will slap,
whip, or viciously _yank_ an arm of so frail, so soft a tiny body!
_That_ is what _I_ call a _coward!!_ By golly! almost a _criminal!_ If
a tot is what you call naughty, (and no child voluntarily is,) why not
lift that young body up onto your lap, and talk--_don't shout_--about
what it just did? Shouting gains nothing with a tot. Man can shout at
Man, at dogs, and at farm animals; but a man who shouts at a child is,
at that instant, _sinking in his own muck of bullyism_; and bullyism
is a sin, if anything in this world is. Ah! _Youth!_ You glorious
dawn of Mankind! You bright, happy, glowing morning Sun; not at full
brilliancy of noon, I know, but unavoidably on your way! _Youth!_ How
I do thrill at taking your warm, soft hand; walking with you; talking
with you; but, most important of all, _laughing_ with you! _That_ is
Man's pathway to glory. A man who drops blossoms in passing, will carry
joy to folks along his way; a man who drops crumbs will also do a
kindly act; but a man who drops kind words to a sobbing child will find
his joy continuing for many a day; for blossoms will dry up; crumbs
may blow away; but a kind word to a child may start a blossom growing
in that young mind, which will so far surpass what an _un_kindly man
might drop, as an orchid will surpass a wisp of grass. Just stop a bit
and look back at your footprints along your past pathway. Did you put
many humps in that soil which a small child might trip on? Did you
angrily slam a door, which might so jolt a high-strung tot as to bring
on nights and nights of insomnia? Did you so constantly snarl at it
that it don't want you around? In fact, did you put _anything_ in that
back-path of yours which could bring sorrow to a child? Or start its
distrust of you, as its rightful _guardian_? If so, _go back_ right
now, man, and _fix_ up such spots by kindly acts from now on. Or, _jump
into a pond, and don't crawl out again!!_ For nobody wants you around!"
Lady Gadsby, as this oration was wafting off amongst lilac shrubs, and
across soft, warm lawns, had sat, also thinking; finally coming out
onto that ivy-bound porch, and sitting down by His Honor, saying:--
"That was just grand, John, but I was thinking along a path varying a
bit from that. You know that Man's brain is _actually_ all of him. All
parts of his body, as you follow down from his brain, act simply as
aids to it. His nostrils bring him air; his mouth is for masticating
his food; his hands and limbs furnish ability for manipulation and
locomotion; and his lungs, stomach and all inward organs function
_only_ for that brain. If you look at a crowd you say that you saw
lots of folks: but if you look at a man bathing in a pond; and if that
man sank until only that part from his brow upward was in sight, you
might say that you saw nobody; only a man's scalp. But you actually
saw a _man_, for a man is only as big as that part still in sight. Now
a child's skull, naturally, is not so big as a man's; so its brain has
no room for all that vast mass of thoughts which adult brains contain.
It is, so to say, in a small room. But, as days and months go by, that
room will push its walls outward, and that young brain gradually fill
up all that additional room. So, looking for calm, cool thinking in a
child is as silly as looking for big, juicy plums amongst frail spring
blossoms. Why, oh, _why_ don't folks think of that? _You_ know what
foolish sounding things Julius was always asking, as a child. 'How can
just rubbing a match light it?' 'Why is it dark at night?' 'Why can't
a baby talk?' But, you and I, John, didn't laugh at him. No, not for
an instant. And _now_ look at our Julius and our Kathlyn; both famous,
just through all that asking; and our aid. John, God _could_ put Man
into this world, full-grown. But God don't do so; for God knows that,
without a tiny hand to hold, a tiny foot to pat, tiny lips to kiss, and
a tiny, warm, wriggling body to hug, Man would know nothing but work."