“He drove them out.”

“Did he stone them, or beat them?”

“Oh no.  He was gentle as a child towards them.”

“You are certainly jesting.”

“Not I. Friend Barton has not forgotten that his pigs were in my cornfield yesterday, and that I turned them out without hurting a hair of one of them.  Now, suppose I had got angry and beaten his pigs, what do you think the result would have been?  Why, it is much more than probable that one or both of our fine cows would have been at this moment in the condition of Mr. Mellon’s old Brindle.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say anything more about old Brindle,” said Mrs. Gray, 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 can’t help using it sometimes.”

“I am glad he didn’t hurt the cows,” said Mrs. Gray, 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 temper—­and if he can do that, it will be a favour conferred on the whole neighbourhood, for almost every one complains, at times, of this fault in his character.”

“It is certainly the best policy, to keep fair weather with him,” Mrs. Gray remarked, “for a man of his temper could annoy us a good deal.”

“That word policy, Sally, is not a good word,” replied her husband.  “It conveys a thoroughly selfish idea.  Now, we ought to look for some higher motives of action than mere policy—­motives grounded in correct and unselfish principles.”

“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 sufferer from those outbreaks than any one else.  In our actions towards him, then, it is a much higher and better motive for us to be governed by a desire to aid him in the correction 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 degree, regarding the whole neighbourhood, for the evil of which we speak affects all.  And in thus suffering ourselves to be governed by such elevated and unselfish motives, we gain all that we possibly could have gained under the mere instigation 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 consideration—­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