July, 1842. 



THE FARMER'S MONTHLY VISITOR 



99 



as Mr. Barton can. Let us then consider him a 

 little, and give him time to get over his angry fit. 

 It will be ninch better to do .so." 



Mrs. Gray saw that her husband was right, but 

 still she felt indignant at the outrage comtiiilted on 

 her geese. She did not, however, say any thing 

 about suing the shoemaker — for old brindle's head 

 from which the horn had been knocked oft', was 

 not entirely well, and one prosecution very natu- 

 rally suggested the idea of another. So slie took 

 her three fat geese, and after stripping off their 

 feathers, had them prepared for the table. 



On the next morning, as Mr. Gray was going 

 along the road, he met the shoemaker, and as they 

 had to pass very near to each other, the farmer 

 smiled and bowed, and spoke kindly. Mr. Barton 

 looked and felt very uneasy, but farmer Gray did 

 not seem to remember the unpleasant incident of 

 the day before. 



It was about eleven o'clock of the saine day, 

 that one of farmer Gray's little boys came running 

 to him, and crying — 



"Oh father! father! Mr. Barton's hogs are in 

 our corn field." 



" Then I must go and drive them out," said Mr. 

 Gray, in a quiet tone. 



" Drive 'em out !" ejaculated Mrs. Gray. " Drive 

 'em out, indeed ! I'd shoot them, that's what I'd 

 do! I'd serve him as he served my geese yester- 

 day !" 



" But that wouldn't bring the geese to life again, 

 Sally." 



" I don't care if ic wouldn't: it would be pay- 

 ing him iu his own coin, and that's all he de- 

 serves." 



" You know what the bible says, Sally, aliout 

 grievous words, and they apply with stronger 

 force to grievous actions. No — no — 1 will return 

 neighbor Barton good for evil. That is the best 

 way. He has done wrong, and I am sure is sorry 

 for it. And as I wish him still to remain sorry 

 for so unkind and unneighborly an action, I intend 

 making use of the best means for keeping him 



"Then you will be revenged on him, any how." 

 " No, Sally — not revenged. I hope I have no 

 such feeling. For I am not angry with neighbor 

 Bartoti, who has done himself a iiuich greater 

 wrong than he has done me. But I wish him to 

 see clearly how wrong he acted, that he may do 

 so no more. And then we shall not have any 

 cause to complain of him, nor he any to be grie- 

 ved, as I am sure he is at his own hasty conduct. 

 But while 1 am talking here, his hogs are destroy- 

 ing my corn." 



Ami so saying, farmer Gray hurried oflT towards 

 his corn field. Wlien he arrived there, he found 

 four large hogs tearing down the stalks, and pul- 

 ling off and eating the ripe ears of corn. They 

 had already destroyed a good deal. But he drove 

 them out very calmly, and put up the bars through 

 which they had enteied, and then commenced 

 gatherin<; up the half eaten ears of corn, and 

 throwing them out into the lane for the hogs that 

 had been so suddenly distm-hed in the process of 

 obtaining a liberal meal. As he was thus engag- 

 ed, Mr. Barton, who had from his own house seen 

 the farmer turn the hogs out of his corn field, 

 came hurriedly up, and said — 



" I am very sorry, Mr. Gray, indeed I am, that 

 my hogs have done this: I will most clieerfully 

 pay you for what they have destroyed." 



"Oh, never mind, friend Barton — never mind. 

 Such things will happen occasionally. My geese, 

 you know, amioy you very much sometimes." 



" Don't speak of it, Mr. Gray. They didn't an- 

 noy me half as much as 1 imagined they did. But 

 how much corn do you think my hogs have de 

 stroyed .' One bushel, or two bushels — or how 

 much .' Let it be estimated, and I will pay you 

 for it most cheerfully." 



" Oh, no — not for the world, friend Barton. 

 Such things will happen sometimes. And be- 

 sides, some of my men must have left the bars 

 down, or your hogs could never have got in. So 

 don't think any more about if. It would be dread- 

 ful if one neighbor could not bear a little with 

 another." 



All this cut poor Mr. Barton to the heart. His 

 own ill-natin-ed language ami conduct, at a much 

 smaller trespass on liis right;;, presented iLself to 

 his mind, and deeply mortified him. Altera few 

 monents' silence he said — 



" Tlie flict is, Mr. Gray, I shall feel better if 

 you will let me pay for this corn. My hogs 



hould not be fattened at your expense, and I 

 kill not consent to its being done. So 1 shall in- 

 sist on paying you for at least one bushel of corn, 

 for I am sure they have destroyed that much, if 

 not more." 



But Mr. Gray shook his head, and smiled plea- 

 santly, as he replied — 



' Don't think any thing more about it, neighbor 

 Barton. It is a matter deserving no consideration. 

 No doubt tny cattle have often trespassed on you, 

 and will trespass on you again. Let us then bear 

 and forbear." 



All this rut the shoemaker still deeper, and he 

 felt still less at ease in mind after he parted from 

 the farmer than he did before. But one thing he 

 resolved, and that was to pay Mr. Gray for the 

 corn which his hogs had eaten. 



" You told him your mind pretty plainly, I 

 lope," Mrs. Gray said, as her husband came iu. 



'■ I certainly did," was the quiet reply. 



"And I am glad you had spirit enough to do it! 

 I reckon he will think twice before he kills any 

 of my geese." 



expect you are right, Sally. I don't think 

 we shall be troubled again." 



"And what did you say to him ? And what did 

 he say for himself.'" 



" Why he wanted very much to pay me for the 



rn his pigs had eaten ; but I wouldn't hear to 

 I told him that it made no difference in the 

 world. That such accidents would happen souie- 

 mes." 



"You did.'" 



"Certairdy, I did." 



"And that's the way you spoke your mind to 



" Precisely. And it had the desired effect. It 

 made him feel ten times worse then if 1 had spok- 

 en angrily to him. He is exeedingly pained at 



hat he has done, and says he will never rest 

 until he has paid for that corn. But I am resolv- 

 ed never to take a cent for it. It will be the best 

 possible guaranty I can have for his kind and 

 neighborly conduct hereafter." 



" Well, perhaps you are right," Mrs. Gray said, 

 after a few moments of thoughtful silence. " 1 

 like Mrs. Barton very much — and now I come to 

 think of it, I should not wish to have any differ- 

 ence between our families." 



"And so do I like Mr. Barton. He has read a 

 good deal, and I find it very pleasant to sit with 

 him occasionally during the long winter evenings. 

 His only fault is his quick temper— but I am sure 

 it is much better for us to hear with and soothe 

 that, than to oppose and excite if, and thus keep 

 both his family and our own iu hot water." 



"You are certainly right," Mrs. Gray said, "and 

 I only wish that 1 could always think and feel as 

 you do. But I am a little quick, as they say " 



"And so is Mr. Barton. Now just the same 

 consideration that you would desire others to 

 have for yon, should you exercise towards Mr. 

 Barton, or any one else whose hasty temper leads 

 him into words or actions that in calmer an 

 Tuore thoughtful moments, are subjects of regret 



On the next day, while Mr. Gray stood in lii 

 own door, from which he could see all over the 

 two or three acres of ground that the shoemaker 

 cultivated, he observed two of his own cows 

 his neighbor's corn field, browsing away in quite 

 a contented manner. As he was going to call 

 one of the farm hands to go over and drive the 

 out, he perceived that Mr. Barton had become 

 aware of the mischief that was going on, and had 

 already started for the field of corn. 



"Now we will see the eftect of yesterday's les- 

 son," the farmer said to himself, and then paused 

 to observe the manner of the shoemaker towards 

 his cattle in driving them out of the field. In t 

 few mimiles Mr. Barton came up to the cows- 

 hut, instead of throwing stones at them, or strik 

 ing them with a stick, he merely drove them out 

 in a quiet way, and put up the bars through which 

 they bad entered." 



"Admirable!" ejaculated farmer Gray. 

 "What is admirable?" asked his wife, who 

 came within hearing distance at the moment. 



" Why the lesson I gave our friend Barton yes- 

 terday, works admirably." 

 " How so ?" 

 " Why two of our cows were in his corn field 



afe 



linutes ago, destroying the ' 



tpid 



" Well ! what did he do to them .'" in a quick 

 ixious tone. 



"He drove them out." 

 " Did he stone them, or beat them." 

 " Oh no. He was as gentle as a child towards 

 them." 



You are certainly jesting." 

 Not I. Friend Barton has not forgotten that 

 his pigs were in my corn field yesterday, and thai 

 I turned them out without hurting a hair of one 

 of them. Now, suppose I had got angry and beat- 

 en his liog-s, what do you think the result would 

 have been ? Why, it is much more than proba- 

 ble, that one or both of our fine cows would have 

 been at this moment in the condition of Mr. Mel- 

 Ion's old brindle." 



I wish you wouldn't say any thing more about 

 old brindle," Mrs. Gray said, trying to laugh, while 

 her face grew red, in spite of her efforts to keep 

 down her feelings. 



" Well, I won't, Sally, if it worries you. But it 

 is such a good illustration, that I cannot help us- 

 it sometimes." 



I am glad he didn't hiu-t the cows," Mrs. Gray 

 I, after a pause. 



And so am I, Sally. Glad on more than one 

 account. It shows that he has made an effort to 

 keep down his hasty, irritable tem|)er — and if he 

 can do that, it will be a favor conferred on the 

 whole neigldrorhood, for almost every one com- 

 plains, at times, of this fault in his character." 

 " It is certainly the best policy to keep fair 

 patlier witli him," Mrs. Gray remarked, "for a 

 an of his temper coidd annoy us a good deal." 

 "That word policy, Sally, is not a good word," 

 her husband replied. " It conveys a thoroughly 

 Ifish idea. Now, we ought to look for some 

 higher motive of action than mere policy — mo- 

 tives grounded in correct and unselfish princi- 

 ples." 



" But what other motive but policy could we 

 possibly have for putting up with Mr. Barton's 

 outrageous conduct ?" 



" Other and far higher motives, it seems to me. 

 We should reflect that Mr. Barton has naturally 

 a hasty temper, and that, when excited, he does 

 things" for which he is sorry afterwards — and that, 

 in nine cases out of ten, he is a greater suflferer 

 from these outbreaks than any one else. In our 

 actions towards him, then, it is a much higher and 

 better motive for us to lie governed by a desire 

 to aid him in tlie carre<ition of this evil, than to 

 look merely to the protection of ourselves from 

 its effects. Do you not think so?" 

 " Yes, it does seem so." 



"When thus moved to action, we are, in a de- 

 gree, regarding the whole neighborhood, for the 

 evil of which we speak, affects all. And in thus 

 suffering ourselves to be governed by such eleva- 

 ted and un.-elfish motives, we gain all that we 

 possibly could have gained under the mere insti- 

 gation of policy — and a great deal more. But to 

 bring the matter into a still narrower compass. 

 In all our actions towards him and every one 

 else, we should be governed by the simple con- 

 sideration — Is it right ? If a spirit of retaliation 

 be not right, then it cannot be indulged without 

 a mutual injury. Of course, then, it should never 

 prompt us to action. If cows or hogs get into 

 my field or garden, and destroy my property, who 

 is to blame most ? Of course, myself I should 

 have kept my fences in better repair, or my gate 

 closed. The animals are certaiidy not to blame, 

 for they follow only the |)romptings of nature — 

 and their owners should not be censured, for 

 they know nothing about it. It would then be 

 very wrong for me to injure both the animals and 

 their owneTS for my own neglect — would it not ?" 

 " Yes — I suppose it would." 

 " So at least it seems to me. Then, of course, 

 I ought not to injure neighbor Barton's cows or 

 hogs, even if they do break into my corn field or 

 garden, simply because it would be wrong to do 

 so. This is the i)rinciple upon which we shoidd 

 act, and not from any selfish policy." 



After this, there was no more trouble about far- 

 mer Gray's geese or cattle. Sometimes the geese 

 would get among Mr. Barton's hogs, and annoy 

 them vvhile eating, but it did not worry him as it 

 did formerly. If they became too troublesome, he 

 would drive them away, but not by throwing sticks 

 and stones at them, as he once did. 



Late in the fall, the shoemaker brought in his 

 hill for work. It was a pretty large bill, with sun- 

 dry credits. 



■" Pay day has come at last," farmer Gray said, 

 good humoredly, as the shoemaker presented his 



