The Book of Courage Part 9

That is the att.i.tude toward life of the worker worth while; he does not stop to ask, "Is this easy?" Instead he asks, "Is this necessary? Will it be helpful?" Having answered the question he proceeds to do his best.

It may hurt at first, but the time will come when it will hurt so much to leave the service undone that the inconvenience involved in doing it is lost sight of.

I

IMPARTING COURAGE

A young man won local fame as a bicycle long-distance rider. But over-fatigue, possibly coupled with neglect, caused contraction of certain muscles. He was unable to stand erect. He walked with bent back, like an old man. "What useful work can he do, handicapped as he is?"

his friends asked.

But he did not lose courage. He continued to smile and make cheer for others. Finally he secured work in the office of the supervisor of a National Forest. And he made good. Most of his activities were at the desk; when he sat there his back was normal.

According to the idea of many, it would have been enough for the crippled man to look out for himself. What could he do for others? But he had not been trained in such a school; the cheerfulness that enabled him to be useful made it impossible for him to see another in need and not plan to do something for him.

The man who needed him was at hand--a cripple, whose feet were clumsy, misshapen. No one else thought that anything could be done for him but to speak dolefully and to a.s.sure him that he was fortunate in having parents and brothers who would look out for him.

But the man in the Forestry Service urged the cripple to apply for a summer appointment on the rocky, windy summit of a mountain nine thousand feet high. There it would be his duty to keep a vigilant eye on the forest stretching far away below his lofty eyrie, and to report the start of a forest fire. At first he laughed at the idea; had he not been told that he could never hope to do anything useful? Yet as he listened to his friend his eyes began to sparkle. Finally he dared to agree to make application for the position.

During the winter months the forester spent many evenings with his friend, coaching him in some of the lore of the forests, giving him books to read, and showing him what his specific duties would be, and how to perform them.

In the spring the situation was secured, and when the season of forest fires came the young man bravely climbed the steep trail over the snow to his lonely cabin. An able-bodied man is able to make the climb from the end of the wagon road in much less than an hour; the cripple required more than five hours to reach the top. Then he took up his residence there, cooking his own food, making his observations from morning until night, receiving his mother and his brothers when from time to time they came to see how he was getting on and to help him in some of the rougher tasks about the cabin. They thought they would need to speak words of cheer to a lonely, discouraged man, but they soon learned their error; not only did he have cheer enough for himself, but he was able to send his visitors away happier than when they came because of their contact with the man for whom life had been made over by the acts of a thoughtful friend, a friend whose own courage had been increased by his efforts to encourage a friend.

II

CONQUERING HAPPINESS

In a volume of short stories published some years ago there is included the vivid narrative of two humble citizens of an Irish village, a husband and wife, upon whom hard times have come. The husband is too feeble to make his living as of old at his trade as a road-mender. Their only hope is a son in America, and not a word comes from him, so they are compelled to go to the poor house.

Friends condole with them, and they are sad enough to suit the notions of those who feel that an awful ending is coming to their lives. One of the saddest of their friends is their physician who dreads going to see the unhappy old people in their new home. At last, however, he drives to the entrance to the poor farm. There he has his first surprise. Instead of seeing the disreputable place he had been accustomed to, he notices that the gate is on its hinges, the weeds by the side of the driveway are no longer in evidence, and an attempt has been made to give the house itself a more presentable appearance. About the doors are no discontented-looking old people, quarreling with one another. And when the wife of the poor farm keeper answers his knock at the door, the doctor hardly recognizes her; instead of a discouraged-looking slattern she is actually neat and cheerful looking.

"You wonder what has happened here, don't you?" the woman remarks. "It's all because of those blessed old folks you are asking for. They were disheartened, just at first, but soon they began to do helpful things for the rest of the folks. That cheered us all up, and it's made a different place of the farm."

The doctor's errand that day is to take word to the couple that their son from America wishes them to spend the remainder of their days with him. He has expected them to be overjoyed by the news. But, after talking together of the invitation, they a.s.sure him that their place is where they are. "We be road-mending here, making ways smoother for the folks that have rough traveling," is the explanation. "We think we ought to bide at the farm."

Thus the old people took the way of conquering unhappiness made known so long ago by Him who set the example of finding joy in caring for other people, the way taken by a modern follower of His who wrote home from the army:

"I cast my lot where I knew the road would be rough, and why should I complain? It seems to me at times that I must give way to my lower self and let the work slip off my back on others perhaps more tired than myself. But I have a tender, kind Father in heaven who tells me that my way is right. I have very little to uphold me in this work away from my friends. My happy moments are those which I spend with my Bible during my night watches, or thinking of happy days gone by, or building me air-castles for days to come. I am happy, too, when I read the little verse written in the front of my Testament, and so thankful for the power to understand it:

"So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is G.o.d to man, When duty whispers low, 'Thou must,'

The youth replies, 'I can.'"

Yet there are those who insist that it is the duty of one whose lot is hard to be morose and sad; that by covering his sadness with the gladness of service he is making a cheat of himself! In verse a writer with insight has pilloried such critics:

"He went so blithely on his way, The way men call the way of life, That good folks who had stopped to pray, Shaking their heads, were wont to say, It was not right to be so gay Upon that weary road of strife.

"He whistled as he went, and still He bore the young where streams were deep, He helped the feeble up the hill, He seemed to go with heart athrill, Careless of deed and wild of will-- He whistled, that he might not weep."

III

MAKING LITTLE THINGS COUNT

There are people who spend so much time looking for the large, spectacular opportunities for serving others, that they pa.s.s by as unworthy of notice the opportunities for doing what seem to be little kindnesses. Fortunately, however, there are people who are so taken up with rendering what they call little services, that they have no time to worry because the big opportunities do not come their way.

A magazine writer tells of one of these doers of simple kindnesses:

"I was the shabbiest girl in the office," she says. "It was no one's fault and no one's shame that we were poor. I had intelligence enough to know that. I knew, too, what a sacrifice mother had made to pay for my tuition at business school. Still, the knowledge of my shabby clothes forced itself upon me, particularly my old black skirt! Mother had cleaned it and pressed it and cleaned it, but it seemed bent with age, and all the office girls looked so fresh and pretty in their trim business suits. I imagined all the first morning that they were pitying me and felt them looking at my shabbiness, and during noon hour I was so miserable; but when I went back next morning, I noticed that one of the girls had on nearly as old clothes as I did, and she was so nice to me that I fancied she was glad I had come because of our mutual poverty.

Not until after I earned enough money to buy some suitable, nice clothes did I realize that the 'poor girl,' as I thought her, had drifted back into the prettiest, most tasteful clothes worn by any of the girls. She had only borne me company at a most trying time, and she knew, because her fellow-workers all admired her, that the little object lesson would keep them from hurting my feelings. The day has come now when new clothes are usual, when I may even achieve an appearance that is known as 'stylish.' But in my office, when a girl comes in shabby, painfully sensitive, as I was, I 'bear her company' until the better times shall come."

From another observer comes the story of the simple deeds of kindness done by a company of young people in Brooklyn to a young woman married to an elderly and uncongenial man. She showed symptoms of taking her life into her own hands. She felt that the world owed her happiness, and she was tempted to take it anywhere it might be found, especially in one undesirable direction. She was poor and outside of many ordinary social pleasures. The word was pa.s.sed along the line that Mrs. D... needed especial attention and friendliness shown her. Immediately one girl, whose notice was in itself a compliment, invited her to attend a concert with her. Two more volunteered to see her home from Sunday school, and call for her as well. Books were loaned her, calls made, and in brief, a rope of warm st.u.r.dy hands steadying her over the hard place in the road, until she found herself and settled down to the duty she was on the point of leaving forever.

The widespread hunger for such little kindnesses was shown one day when a New York man accosted in Central Park a poor foreigner, who could speak little English. Noting that the man looked dejected, he offered him his hand. Then he asked the man if he was in need. "No, I don't need money," was the reply; "I was just hungry for a handshake." Blessings on those who are not too busy to think of the poor who are hungry for the little services they can render.

If they could know the ultimate effect of some of their deeds, these would not always seem insignificant. The man who is always on the lookout for little chances for service is more apt to perform services that are of great importance, than the man who spends his time dreaming of big things he will do some day.

IV

DID HE GO TOO FAR?

When an urgent call went out from Washington for physicians to go to France for hospital work among the men of the American Expeditionary Force, a specialist in a city of the Middle West decided to respond. Of course some of his friends told him he was foolish; they urged that he was needed for service at home. "Let doctors go who can be spared better than you," they said. "Think of the great work you are doing--work that will be more than ever necessary because thousands of others are leaving practices and going to the Front. Think of your past--how you worked your way through medical college at cost of severe toil; think of your family and the increasing demands on you; think of the future--what will become of your lucrative practice?"

The specialist did think of these things; he had delayed decision because the arguments had presented themselves forcibly to his own mind.

At last, however, his mind was made up. He would go to France. He would leave his patients in charge of two capable friends who would do everything possible to turn over, on the return of the volunteer, the lucrative office practice built up through many years.

He spent six months in camp with the members of the hospital unit of which he was given charge. Just before he went "over there" a friend said to him:

"It is fortunate that your practice is to be cared for so efficiently."

"What's that?" was the reply. "Oh, you mean the colleagues who took over my patients? They, too, have enlisted, and will soon be going abroad."

"But what of your $35,000 income?" was the dismayed rejoinder. "Surely you haven't the courage to give up all that!"

The major snapped his fingers, and said, with a smile, "_That_ for the practice! It is my business to respond to my country's call. Don't talk of the sacrifice. What if I do have to start all over again when I come home? Just now I don't have to think about that."

This incident came to mind when reading in a popular weekly a telling story, camouflaged as to names, location and business, but recorded as the experience of a captain of industry. The story made him a manufacturer of shoes who, in the beginning, was rejoicing that his plants were running full time, turning out so many shoes for the regular trade that the profits of the year were bound to be tremendous. With others, he heard the plea of the Government for shoes for the soldiers.

Carefully he a.s.sured himself that he would not need to respond; there were many manufacturers who would rush headlong for government contracts. When he learned that there were not enough volunteers he felt uncomfortable. Then, to his relief, he was asked to take the chairmanship of the subcommittee on shoes of the State Council of Defense.

"I'll do it!" he decided. "That will let me out honorably. As chairman I shall be criticized if I bid on the contracts myself."

Of course he learned his mistake. At length he decided to turn over one of his six plants to government contracts. The decision made him feel quite virtuous. Content was his only a little while, however. So he decided to devote another plant. Yet when he made his figures he thought he would add five cents a pair to his bid, as an extra margin of safety.

Again his calculations were upset when his son told him that he had enlisted.

"That wasn't necessary," the father said. "What made you do it?"

"Why, dad, you know you'd expect me to feel ashamed if you didn't do just every little thing you could in a business way to help win this war--if you held back a shoe that would help the Government or charged a cent more than you ought to. You furnish the shoes and I'll furnish the shoots!"