Narrow and Heartless

1899

There are two sisters whom everybody who will read their story here has met, in cities or farmhouses, at home or abroad. They have eyes and ears, the full complement of all the senses belonging to ordinary human beings, but they go through life blind and deaf.

Every morning, when they rise, God opens the world before them like a full book to tell of His power and love. The sunshine, the wind, every flower in the field, every insect in the grass, all the countless living things about them, have some word to speak of Him. They see and hear nothing of it all.

Around them, all through the days, press multitudes of men and women, each working out a little tragedy or comedy of life, each differing from the others, mean or noble, pure or vile, but all alike struggling along a path where help may be needed and life's burdens made less hard to bear.

These women have brains and hearts, but they never use them for the benefit of a single soul. They hold out no helping hand, they give no friendly thought to any fellow-traveller.

Why?

One of them is made blind by her sense of her own importance. The petty cause of her importance is known only to herself. There was a man of title among her forefathers; or she has a larger sum in the bank than her neighbors; or she numbers some fashionable woman among her acquaintances; or she has costly gowns. But she wraps herself in this remembrance as in a robe of state, and so struts proudly through life.

Her sister has a grievance; usually a different one each day; an aching limb; a small income; an idle servant. These cover her as his cloak covers the monk. She thinks, dreams, talks under their pressure. These women thus shut themselves in and are kept apart through life from the influence and help of nature, of their fellow-men, and of God.

It would be wise to ask ourselves, now and then, if we are in their case. Do we give out healthy, happy influences to people about us as we go through the world? If not, what cloak do we wear that shuts us in to our own littleness? — Youth's Companion.