CHAPTER VII.

LOVE YOUR ENEMIES.

ONE clear, frosty morning, when the snow was white upon the ground, and the sky looked blue and bright overhead, my mother desired William to go and see how Uncle Jabez was. I would willingly have accompanied him, but she thought it too cold for me to venture out. I had never seen the old man since the day I went with her to ask his forgiveness, and I believe that she did not much like the idea of our meeting.

"Tell Uncle Jabez," said my mother, "that I am sorry not to be able to come and see him myself, but hope to do so before long. Be careful what you say, my boy."

We

"Never fear, mother," replied William. heard him singing to himself as he ran down the garden path. When he reached the gate he stooped to gather up a handful of the white snow, throwing it, with a merry laugh, towards his little sister Alice, who was watching him

with rather an anxious countenance from the window. It never reached her, he was too far off for that, but it made her laugh, and drove away the vague fear which she always entertained of Uncle Jabez.

An hour afterwards we saw him coming back again with a slow step, and looking flushed and excited. He smiled when he noticed my mother's anxious face or rather tried to smile.

"What has happened?" asked she, quickly. "Nothing to signify, mother. I have had a good beating-that's all," replied William, shrugging his shoulders.

"Who did it?" inquired my mother.

“Oh! mother, who should do it but Uncle Jabez? I would not have borne it from any one else. It was hard to bear from him; but he looked so old and feeble."

"Tell me all about it, William.”

"Nay, mother dear, after all, there is little to tell. It will only make you laugh."

My mother did not look much inclined to laugh, and said, "Tell me, dear, at once, what passed between you and Uncle Jabez, and what made him strike you."

My brother then briefly informed us that upon

going to the house he found the door standing half way open, and Uncle Jabez absent; and that he went in to await his return. It unfortunately happened that a plate of bones and dried scraps of meat had been left upon a high shelf in the little sitting room, opposite which sat a hungry-looking cat, gazing at it from time to time with a wistful glance, while she uttered a low piteous cry. The poor animal appeared to be half starved, and William, compassionating her condition, and imagining that the plate had probably been put aside for her necessities, reached down a bone to give her. He never dreamed that they were waiting to be converted into soup for Uncle Jabez' dinner. At that moment the old man came in with a few onions, and a handful of garden stuff, which he had begged from a neighbour.

"The poor thing looked so hungry, uncle," said William, turning round to greet him. "She did, did she? And so you gave her my dinner."

'Oh, uncle, I am very sorry I never thought-"

"I'll make you sorry; I'll teach you to think another time," interrupted Uncle Jabez,

seizing William by the collar, and beating him violently about the head and shoulders with his stick. The old man was not very strong, but the stick was a heavy one, and hurt my brother a great deal, although he scorned to cry out, or to defend himself, as he easily might have done, against the poor, feeble, passionate old man.

In relating the above circumstances, William evidently made as light as possible of them, out of consideration for his mother's feelings. But she was greatly excited, nevertheless. "Poor boy," said she, gazing into his flushed face.

"After all, mother, I am not much hurt. Only I did not like the idea of being beaten. But it is all over now; so don't think any more about it."

My mother passed her hand over his head, and felt the cruel marks of the thick stick. She parted away the hair from his forehead, which also bore traces of a heavy blow.

"He might have killed you," she exclaimed. Nay, mother, now you are making it out worse than it really is."

My mother left the room without reply, and returned in a few moments with her bonnet and shawl on. She looked very pale.

William," said she, "take care of Charley,

if he should wake before my return. I shall

"Where are you going, mother ?" asked I. She did not reply.

"You are not going to Uncle Jabez, are you?" "Yes, I am."

Alice began to cry. "Oh! mother, mother, please don't," exclaimed she, clinging to her. "He will beat you as he did brother William.”

My mother rebuked her more sternly than was her wont, and the child was silent. William followed her to the door, and I heard him say, "Mother dear, do not quarrel with Uncle Jabez on my account. He did not intend to strike me so hard. And, after all, it was my fault for giving away his dinner to that unfortunate cat: only I did not intend to do it. Let us forgive him, mother."

She put him gently aside, and went out without a word. I believe she was sorry afterwards that she had not listened to him; but a glance at his swollen and discoloured brow most probably counteracted the good effect of what he had said.

We were all silent after she had gone away

F