Two little girls had disagreed, as was to be expected, because they were so
temperamentally different. They wanted to play in different ways, and as they
had to play together, all operations were stopped while they argued the question.
The elder of the two had a sharp tongue and great facility in using it.
The other was slow to speak but quick to act, and they both
did their best according to their abilities.
Image courtesy/Goodreads
Said the first little girl: "You've got a snub nose and your hair
is just a common brown color. I heard Aunt Lottie say so!
Ah, Don't you wish your hair was a b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l
golden like mine, and your nose a fine shape?
Cousin Louisa said that about me, I heard her!"
The second little girl could not deny these things.
Her dark skin, brown hair, and snub nose,
as compared to her sister's lighter coloring and
regular features, was a tragedy in her little life.
She could think of nothing cutting to reply,
for she was not given to say unkind things,
nor was her tongue nimble enough to say them,
so she stood digging her bare toes into the
ground, hurt, helpless, and tongue-tied.
The first girl, seeing the effect of her words, talked on.
"Besides, you're two years younger than I am, and I know
more than you, so you have to mind me and do as I say!"
This was too much! Sister was prettier, no answer could be made to that.
She was older, it could not be denied; but that gave her no right to command.
At last here was a chance to act.
"And you have to mind me," repeated the first little girl. "I will not! said
the second little girl and then, to show her utter contempt for such authority,
this little brown girl slapped her elder, golden-haired sister.
I hate to write the end of the story. No, not the end! No story is ever ended!
It goes on and on, and the effects of this one followed this little girl
all her life, showing her hatred of injustice.
I should say that I dislike to tell what came next, for the
golden-haired sister ran crying and told what happened,
except her own part in the quarrel, and the little brown girl
was severely punished. To be plain, she was soundly
spanked and set in a corner.
She did not cry but sat glowering at the parent who punished her and
thinking in her rebellious little mind that when she was large enough,
she would return the spanking with interest.
It was not the pain of the punishment that hurt so much as the sense of
injustice, the knowledge that she had not been treated fairly by one from
whom she had the right to expect fair treatment, and that there had been
a failure to understand where she had thought a mistake impossible.
She had been beaten and bruised by sister's unkind words and had been
unable to reply. She had defended herself in the only way possible for her and
felt she had a perfect right to do so, or if not, then both should have been punished.
Children have a fine sense of justice that sometimes is far truer than that of
older persons, and in almost every case, if appealed to, will prove the best
help in governing them. When children are ruled through their sense of
justice, there are no angry thoughts left to rankle in their minds.
Then punishment is not an injury inflicted upon them by someone
who is larger and stronger but the inevitable consequence of their
own acts, and a child's mind will understand this much
sooner than one would think.
What a help all their lives in self-control and self-government
this kind of a training would be!
We are prone to put so much emphasis on the desirability of mercy that
we overlook the beauties of the principle of justice. The quality of mercy
is a gracious, beautiful thing: but with more justice in the world,
there would be less need for mercy, and exact justice
is most merciful in the end.
The difficulty is that we are so likely to make mistakes, we cannot trust
our judgment and so must be merciful to offset our own shortcomings;
but I feel sure when we are able to comprehend the workings of the
principle of justice, we shall find that instead of being opposed to
each other, infallible justice and mercy are one and the same thing.
"Let Us Be Just"
(September 1917)
An essay from the book,
"Little House In The Ozarks
A Laura Ingalls Wilder Sampler
The Rediscovered Writings"
By Laura Ingalls Wilder
(1867-1957)
Prolific American writer and author
of the "Little House" series of books.
Edited by Stephen W. Hines
(1991 Guideposts Edition)
No comments:
Post a Comment