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Speak Gently To Each Other

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" Please to help mea minute, sister." " Oh I don't dUturb me; I'ni reading," was the answer. u Bul just hold this stick, won't you, while I drive this pin ttirough ?" " I cau't now, I want to finish the story," waid I, emphutieally ; and my little brother turned away with a disappointed look, iu search of somebody else to asist him. Ho was a bright boy of ten years, and my only brother. He had beeu visiting a yoiing friend, and had neen a windmill, and, as soon as he carne home, his energie were all employed in making a sniull one; for he was always trying to make top, wheelbarrows, kites, and all eorts of things, such as boys delight iu. He had worked patiently all the inoroing with saw and jack-knife, and now it needed only putting together to complete it, and his ouly sister had refused to assist hitn, and he had gooe away with hia young heart saddened. I thought of all this in the fifteen minutes af ter he left, and my book gave me no pleasure. It was not intentional unkindoess, only thoughtlessness, for I loved my brother, and was genbrally kind to him; still I had refused to help hitn. I would have gone after him and afforded the assistance he oeeded, but I knew he had found some one else. Yet I had neglected an opportunity of gladdening a childish heart. Ia half an hour he carne bounding into the house, exclaimiug, exclaiming. "Come, Mary, l'vo got it up; just see how it goes 1" His tones wore joyous, and I saw that ha had forgotteu my petulauce; so Í de termiued to atoue by uuusual kinduess. I went with him, and, sure enough, on the roof of the wood-house was fasteued a miniature windmill, and the arms were whirling around fast enough to suit my boy. I praised the windmill, and my littie brother's ingenuity, aud he seemed happy, and entirely forgetful of any unuokind word ; and I resolved, as I had many times boíore, to be always loving and gentle. A lew days paseed by, and the shadow ot a great sorrow darkened our dwelliug. The joyous laugh and noisy glee wei'o hushed, and our inerry boy luy in a darkened room, with anxious faces around him, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes unnatuinlly bright. Soinetimeg liis temples would muisteu, aud his museles relax, and then hope would come our hearts, and our eyes would fill with thankful tears. It was in oue ot these deceitful calms in his disease tha.t he heard tbc noise of his little wheel, and said, "I hear my wiudmill." " Does it make your head acho," I asked. "Shall we take it down?" " Oh no," replied he. " It seems as if I were out of doors, aud it makes me feel better." He mused a moment, and then added, " dou't you remember, Mary, that I wanled you to help me to fis it, and you weie ï'eading, and told me you could not? But it did not make any difï'orenoe, for ïnafhma helped me." Oh, how sadly those words feil upou my e-ir, and what bitter memories they awakened ! How I repented as I kissed little Frank's forehead, that I had ever spoken unkindly to him ! Hours of sorrow went by, and we watehed his couch ; hope growing tainter ind anguish deeper, until, one week from the morning on which ho spoke of his childish sport, we closed the eyes once so sparkling, and folded his hands over his pulseless heart. He nleeps now in the grave, and bome is desolate; but his little windmill, the work of his busy hands, is still swinging in the breege, just where he placed it, upon the roof of the old wood shed ; and every time I see the tiny arms revolving, I remember the logt Httle Frank, aud I remember, alto the thoughtless, the unkind words


Old News
Michigan Argus