The train was waiting at a station of one of our western railroads. The baggage master was busy with his checks. Men, women, and children were rushing for the cars, anxious to get seats before the locomotive pulled away.
A man, carelessly dressed, was standing on the station platform, seemingly giving little attention to what was going on. It was easy to see that he was lame; and at a hasty glance, one might have supposed that he was a man of neither wealth nor influence.
The conductor gave him a contemptuous look, and slapping him familiarly on the shoulder, called out, “Hello, Limpy! Better get aboard, or the train will leave you behind.”
The man made no reply. As the train started to move, the man climbed on the last car and walked quietly in and took a seat.
The train had gone a few miles when the conductor appeared at the door of the car where our friend was sitting. Passing along taking tickets, he soon discovered him. “Your ticket, quick!”
“I don’t pay,” replied the lame man quietly.
“Don’t pay?”
“No, sir.”
“We’ll see about that. I shall put you off at the next station.” And he seized his valise.
“Better not be so rough, young man,” returned the stranger.
The conductor released the bag momentarily and, seeing that he could do no more, passed on to collect the fare from the other passengers. As he stopped at a seat a few paces off, a man who had heard the conversation asked, “Do you know who that man is to whom you were speaking?”
“No, sir.”
“That is Peter Warburton, the president of the road.”
“Are you sure?” asked the conductor, trying to conceal his worry.
“I know him.”
The young man’s face became red, but with a strong effort, he controlled himself and continued collecting fares as usual.
Meanwhile, Mr. Warburton sat quietly in his seat. None of those near him could interpret the expression on his face or tell what his next movement would be. He could get the young man fired simply by telling the directors what had transpired. Would he do it? Those who sat near him waited curiously to see what would happen.
Presently, the conductor came back. He walked up to Mr. Warburton’s seat and took his books from his pocket, the bank bills and tickets he had collected, and laid them beside Mr. Warburton.
“I resign my place, sir,” he said.
The president looked over the accounts, motioned him into the vacant seat behind him, and said, “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
The young man sat down, and in a soft-spoken voice, this is what the president said to him.
“My young friend, I have no wish for revenge. You have been imprudent. Your manner would have been injurious to the company if I had been a passenger. I could fire you, but I will not. In the future, remember to be polite to all you meet. You cannot judge a man by the coat he wears, and the poorest should still be treated with kindness. Take up your books, sir. If you change your conduct, nothing that has happened will injure you.”
“Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment.” John 7:24
“Do not look at [the] appearance. … For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7
Sabbath Readings from the Home Circle, Vol. 2, ©1877, 116–120