Suddenly above the noises of the street, above the commands of the officers and the music of the band, I heard a little, thin, shrill voice from the crowded corner where the men stood, cry out, "Lift me up so I can see!" It was a street child, a little girl, whose dress and face showed that neither money, time, nor thought had been expended upon her. She looked so tiny as she stood there trying to peer through the crowd at the procession in the street. But she was not afraid. Again it came, "Lift me up, I say, so I can see!" Eager, insistent, filled with desire, the voice attracted the attention of the men. There was a moment's hesitation, and then with that look one loves to see upon the face of a strong man, the expressman stooped and picked her up. As he held her there, high above the heads of the others, one little arm went round his neck, and she "held on tight" while the other hand pointed at horses, banners and men, and she called out again and again in her joy and delight, "Now I can see, I can see everything!"
The procession passed. He placed her on the sidewalk, and as the crowd scattered she hurried away, satisfaction written upon her small face. But as I walked slowly back toward the great school buildings on the hill, her voice rang in my ears, "Lift me up so I can see!" And I knew that that is the unconscious cry of the childhood of the world to the teachers of the world; that those words are the plea, often unexpressed, of the girlhood of to-day--"Lift me up--so I can see!" And I know that those who answer must themselves have eyes opened by the Christ, to see, and hearts quickened by his power, to lift.
----- [1] "A Lovely Teacher," March 5, 1910.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl in Her Teens, by Margaret Slattery