Miscellany: The Bushel Of Corn

( Concluded. ) On the next day, while Mr. Gray staod in bia own door, from which he could see all over the two or three acres of ground tliat the shoemaker cultivated. lie obse.ved two o) his own cows in his neighbor's cornrield, browsingaway in quite a contented mannor. As he was going to cali one of the farm hands to go over and drive them out, he perceived that Mr. Barton had become aware of the mischief that was going on, and had already starled for the field of corn. "Novv we will see the effect of yesterday's Ie88on," the fnrmer said to himself; and ttien paused to observe the mannér of tlie shoemaker towards his caitle, in driving them out of the field. In a few minutes, Mr. Barton cane up. tu the cows - but, instead of throvving sioncs at them, or 6tnking them with a stick, he merely drove them out in a quiet way, and put up the bars through which they had entoied. "Admirable!" ejaculaicd farmer Gray. Vhatjs admirable?" asked his wife. who came witbm hearing distance at the moment. "VVhy, the lesson I gave our friend Barton yesterday, woiks admirabiy." "How so?" "Why, two of our cows we're in hiscornfield a few minutes ngo, deslroying the corn át a rapij rate." "Well! whatdidhe do to them?" in a quick. anxions tone. .. "He drove them out." "Dki hestonc them, or beat them?" a'Oh no. He was genile as a child toward "You are certainly jesting." "Not I. Friend Barton has notforgotten that bis pigs were in ïny corrillukl, yesterday. and that J turned them out without hurting a hair ot one oftliem, Now. suppose I had got angry, nnd beaten his hogs, what do you think the re Bult wuuld have been? Why, it is more than probable, that one or both of our fine cows ¦would have been at iliis moment in the condition of Mr. Mellon's old biindle." "I wish you would' nt say anything moro about old brindle," Mrs. Gray said, trying ta Jaugh, While her face grew red, in spitc of her efibrts to kcepdown her fcclinga.. I ¦ "Well. I won't Sally. if it wornes you. But it ís such agood illustration, that I cannot help using H sometimes." "lam glad he did'nt hurt the cows," Mre. Gray said, alter a pause. "And so am I, Sally Glad on more tba one account. It shows that he has made an e ort to keep down his hasty, irritable temper- an if he can do that. it will be a fnvor conferred o the whole neigliborhood; for almost every on complains. at times, of this fault in his cha-ac ter." "It is certainly the bost policy, to keep air weather with him," Mrs. Gray remarked, for a man of his temper could annoy us a great deal " "That word, policy, Sally, is not a good word, her husband replied. "ít conveys a thoroughly selfish idea. Now, wc ought to look for some higher moüve of action tlian mere policy- motives grounded in correct and unselfch principies." "But wlmt other motive but polioy could we possibly have for putting up with Mr. Barton's autrageous condtici?'Oilier, and fnr highef motives, it seems to me. We should reflect tliat Mr, Barton ha naturally a hasty temper; nnd that, when excited. he does things for which he is sorry afterwards and that. in nine cases out of ten. he is a greater ¦ufferer from theee ombreake tlian any one else. n our jirtions tovvards him, then, it is a much ligher and Ijetter mo'ive for us to be governed by a desire to aid him in the correction of this evil than to the protection of ourselves from ite effecte. D you not think so?"'Yes. Itdoesscem so. "When thiiB moved to action, we ore, in adegree. regarding the whole neighborhood ; for the evil of which wc ápeak nfíects all. And. in thus suflcringoureelves to bs governed by such elevaied nnd unsclfish motives, we gain all tha we pos3ibly could have gained under the mere instigation of policy - and a great deal more. Hut to briug the matter into á still narrower conipass. In all our aciions towardá hlm, anc cvery one else, we should be governed by the simple consideraron - is it right? If a epirit ol retaíiation be not right - then it cannot be indulged without a mutual injury. Of course. then. ti should never prompt us to nction; lor if cows or hogs get into my field or garden, and destroy my property- who is to blame most? Of course. mysclf. I should have kept my fences in better repair, or my gate closed. The animáis cerrainly are not to lo blame, for they follow only the piomptings of nature- and their owners should nol be censurcd. for they know nothing about it. ít would, then. be very wrong tor me to fnjure both the animáis and their owners for my own neglect - would it not?" ''Tes. I suppose it would." Aftcr this. there was no more trouble about farmer Gray's gecse or entile. Sometimes the geese would get among Mr. Barton's hogs, and nnnoy them whiíe eating, but it did not worry him as it did formerly. If thev became too troublcsome, he would drive them away, but not by throwing sticks and stones at them, as he once did. -Late in the fall,"the t-hoemaker brought in his bilí íor work. It was a pretty large bilí, with sundry credio. "Pay-day has come at last," farmer Gray said, good humoredly, as the shoemakcr presented his account; "Wel I, let us see"- and he took the bilí to examiné ir, i'ém after item. "What is ihió?" he askcd, reading aloud. "Cr. By one bushel of corn, ffty cents. "lt's some corn I had fróm you." "I reckon you must be mistaken1. Yöu never got any corn from me." 'Oh, yes I did. I remember it perfec;Iy.- It isal! light." "But when did you gët, it friend Bartoft? I am sure thnt I hav'ht thë'nr.ost distant recolleclion of it." "My hoes got it," the shoemaker said, in raiher a low and heeitating tone. "Your hogs!""Yes. Don't yoü remembcr wlien my hogs broke into your field. and destroyed your corn?" ;Oh denr! ís that ii? Oh," no. no, friend Barton. 1 cannot allow that ilem in the bilí." "Yes, but you must. It s perfectly just and I slial! never rest until it is paid." "I can't indeed, toa could'nt held your hogs getting into my fielcí; md theh', you know, friend Barton."- (lowering his tone) ''My geese weie very troublcsome." The shocmaker blusRed. and íooked confused; but farmer Gray slapjjed him familiarly on the shouWer, ond said, fl a livcly, checrful way - "Don't ihink atíything more about, friend Bartun. And, hereafter. let us endcavor to do as ice icoiill bc tli.nt bij, and tlien everything will go on as ssnooih as clock V?o'rk." ',But you will allow that itñm iri thè bill?" the shoemaker urged, pers'everingly." . í!On no; I could'nt do that. I shoiiíd think it wrong lo make you pay. for my own or some of my nien's ncgligence in leaving th'e bars down.""Bat then, (hesitatiirgïy) "ihose geesé. I killed (hiee. Let.it go for them." i;Ifyou dici kill them- we ate them. So that is even. No- no; let the past be forgotteri: and ifit makes better neighbors and friendsofus, v?e nevfir need regret what has happened." . Farmer Gray remaincd firm, and the bill was seitled, omitiing the item of "corn." From that time torth. he never had a better neighbor than tho shoemaker. 'i'he cows and hogs. and geese of both, would occasionally trespiics- but tho trespassers vverö aLw.iys kindly removed. The esson wa8iiot bst on either of them. for even (armer Grny used to feel, sometimos, a little annoyed when his neighbor's cattle broke into his 5;ld. But in teaching the choemaker a leaáon, he had taken a little of it lo himself.