The kitchen, however, was the real daily living-place of the family. It had been built of unusually large dimensions, in order to accommodate a goodly number of temperance friends, or of the members of the Band of Hope, who occasionally met there. Over the doors and windows were large texts in blue, and over the ample fire-place, in specially large letters of the same colour, the words, “Do the next thing.”
Many who called on Thomas Bradly, and saw this maxim for the first time, were rather puzzled to know what it meant. “What is ‘the next thing’?” they would ask. “Why, it’s just this,” he would reply: “the next thing is the thing nearest to your hand. Just do the thing as comes nearest to hand, and be content to do that afore you concern yourself about anything else. These words has saved me a vast of trouble and worry. I’ve read somewhere as ‘worry’ is one of the specially prominent troubles of our day. I think that’s true enough. Well, now, I’ve found my motto there—‘Do the next thing’—a capital remedy for worry. Sometimes I’ve come down of a morning knowing as I’d a whole lot of things to get done, and I’ve been strongly tempted to make a bundle of them, and do them all at once, or try, at any rate, to do three or four of ’em at the same time. But then I’ve just cast my eyes on them words, and I’ve said to myself, ‘All right, Thomas Bradly; you just go and do the next thing;’ and I’ve gone and done it, and after that I’ve done the next thing, and so on till I’ve got through the whole bundle.”
Opposite the broad kitchen-range was a plate-rack well filled with serviceable chinaware, and which formed the upper part of a dresser or plain deal sideboard. Above the rack, and near the ceiling, were the words, “One step at a time.”
This and the maxim over the fire-place he used to call his “two walking-sticks.” Thus, meeting a fellow-workman one day who had lately come to Crossbourne, about whose character for steadiness he had strong suspicions, and who seemed always in a hurry, and yet as if he could never fairly overtake his work—
“James,” he said to him, “you should borrow my two walking-sticks.”
“Walking-sticks!—what for?” asked the other.
“Why, you’ll be falling one of these days if you hurry so; and my two walking-sticks would be a great help to you.” The other stared at him, quite unable to make out his meaning.
“Walking-sticks, Tommy Tracks! You don’t seem to stand in need of them. I never see you with a stick in your hand.”
“For all that I make use of them every day, James; and if you’ll step into my house any night I’ll show them to you: for I can’t spare them out of the kitchen, though I never go to my work without them.”
“Some foolery or other!” exclaimed the man he addressed, roughly. Nevertheless his curiosity was excited, and he stopped Bradly at his door one evening, saying “he was come to see his two walking-sticks.”