LIII.

The “Smart” Person.

Next to a steam calliope preserve me from a “smart” person.  There is as much difference between smartness and brain as there is between a jewsharp and a flute, or between mustard and wine.  A “smart” person may turn off a lot of work and make things hum, so does a buzz-saw!  Who would not rather spend an afternoon with a lark than with a hornet?  The lark may not be so active, but activity is not always the most desirable thing in the world.  A smart person may accomplish more than a dreamer, but in the long run I’ll take my chance with the latter.  When we go up to St. Peter’s gate by and by, after life’s long, blundering march is over, it will not be the answer to such questions as this:  “How many socks can you darn in an afternoon, besides baking bread, washing windows, tending babies and scrubbing floors?” that is going to help us; but, “How many times have you stopped your work to bind up a broken heart, or say a comforting word, or help carry a burden for somebody worse off than yourself?” I tell you, smart folks never have the time to be sympathetic; they always have too much thundering work on hand.

LIV.

A pretty street incident.

The other day a horse was trying to get a very small quantity of oats from the depths of a very small nosebag.  In vain the poor fellow tossed his head and did his best to gain his dinner.  At last, just as he was settling down to dumb and despairing patience, a bright-faced boy of perhaps ten or twelve years of age happened along.  Seeing the dilemma of the horse, the little fellow stopped and said:  “Halloa, can’t get your oats, can you?  Never mind, I’ll fix you!” And straightway he shortened up the straps that held the bag in place, and, with a kindly pat and a cheery word which the grateful horse seemed to appreciate, went his way.  I would like to be the mother, or the aunt, or even the first cousin of that boy.  I would rather that he should belong to me than that I should own a Paganini violin, or a first-water diamond the size of a Concord grape.  Bless his heart, wherever he is, and may he long continue to live in a world that needs him.  Kindness of heart, and tenderness; consideration for the needs of the helpless and the weak, and the courage that dares be true to a merciful impulse, are traits that go far toward the make-up of angels.  We need tender-hearted boys more than we need a new tariff to bring up and develop the resources of the country.  The boy that succeeds in bringing in the greatest number of dead sparrows may be the embryo man of the future, and you may praise his energy and his smartness, but give me the boy who took the trouble to adjust the nose-bag every time.  A little less business acumen, a good bit less greed and cruelty, will tell on future character to the comfort of all concerned.