THE friendship of children is as true as it is beautiful, but what can be more unpleasant than to see them disagree? No ill is more useless than that to which it leads,—endless quarrels among grown-up people.

Boy number one at school swears at number two. Number two pulls his hair; then boys number one and two have a fight, in which several other members take an active part, using various weapons, such as clods, stones, sticks, and very bad words. Number one at last "tells teacher" that "all the boys out there are having a fight;" some of them pulled his hair, but he didn't touch anybody.

The bell rings, and number two, with a proud air, takes his seat; three and four, with traces of blood and stains of tears, hide behind their books, and become for once very studious. Number five stays out at the corner of the school-house, but sends number six in for a cup of water, thinking to wash away the evidence of his guilt. Number seven starts for home, disgusted with himself, and angry at all the rest for engaging in a useless quarrel.

The teacher thinks, "Oh, how foolish!"—the boys,

"I wonder what he will do to us!"

Let us see! He first gives them an hour to think about it, and while he teaches mechanically, thinks of other boys and girls, now men and women. One little group he remembers who passed the happy hours in peaceful play and pleasant study. Others there were, who, by kind words and firm purpose of parent and teacher, were led to despise and discourage their natural disposition to quarrel. Such he now sees in pleasant homes, blessed at least with peace, and thankful for the enjoyment of quiet neighborhoods.

And then with regret he thinks of those who were rarely content with peace,—boys and girls who, loved their own way; and even of a few whose parents instructed them to "let nobody run over" them.  One of these he, remembers who a year before in such "self-defense" disfigured another for life, crippled his own hand, and paid a fine of sixty dollars for the miserable privilege. Two others are engaged in a lawsuit which has already cost half a thousand—all for an old cane-mill not worth fifty dollars. He calls to mind two pretty girls, one of whom refused to sit on the same seat in school with the other because she called her "all kinds of names." They are women now, and though obliged to live on the same street, they still quarrel, and the husband of one will have no work done at the shop of the other just across, the way, but patronizes a really inferior workman four miles distant, while their children are as jealous of each other's society as are the people of caste in India.

The last class had recited, and the boys, eager to know their fate, were quite relieved to hear nothing worse than a recital of what the teacher had been thinking during the last hour. They were left to draw their own conclusions.










"WILL putting yourself in a passion mend the matter?" said an old man to a boy who had picked up a stone to throw at a dog. The dog had only barked at him in play.

"Yes, it will mend the matter," answered the passionate boy, and quickly threw the stone.

The dog, becoming enraged, sprang at the boy and bit his leg, while the stone bounded against a shop window, and broke a pane of glass.

Out ran the shopkeeper and seized the boy, and made him pay for the broken pane.

He had mended the matter finely, indeed!

Take my word for it, it never did and never will mend the matter to get into a passion. If the thing be hard to bear when you are calm, it will be harder when you are angry. If you have met with a loss, you will only increase it by losing your temper.

There is something very little-minded and silly in giving way to sudden passion. Set yourself against it with all your heart. Try to be calm in your little troubles; and when greater ones come, you will be the better able to bear them bravely.