HEAP Oi\ 'I'JIE COAES, WIFE.
‘Why, lass, wliat’s tlie matter
now f
So sahl John Megsoii, when,
juTiving- at his cottage liome, after
Ills day’s work was over, lie found
liis wife with indications of pre
vious tears upon lier usually
hrigiit and cheerful countenance.
‘Mary Lasting.s has been call
ing me everyt.hing, and you too.’
‘What has she to call us about V
‘1 hardly know,’ returned his
wife, ‘she takes such queer fits,
sometimes, but 1 never heard a
woman get on so in my life ; she
said we were everything that’s
had, and our children, too, and
all because our Tom wouldn’t
give their youngster a piece of
cake when he wanted it. The
woman made him quite nervous :
f’vo had a dreadful heodache ever
since.’
John Megson listened to his
wife’s doleful account wdth a
changed countenance, and no
wonder, for he had been used on
return from his work, to he greet
ed wdth her smiling looks and
pleasant w'ords.'
‘However 1 moan to have m\-
revenge,’ went on Mrs. Meg.son
half angrily ; ‘she’s not going to
scold me, for nothing.’
‘IIow' will you revenge your
self, Jane,’ asked her liusband,
looking her earnestly in tlie face.
‘Oh, there’s plenty of ways,’
she replied ; ‘but John, why do
■\ on bear it so calmly ; she called
you too.’
•What did she say about me,
.Jaiie f iiujuired her husband.
'Why,' replied his wdfe, ‘she
said man V tilings about von ; 3 on
were selfish, thouglit yourself
above the rest of the villagers,
because \ oii wouldn’t go near the
jmblic house, like the rest of them,
and a lot more stuff, which made
niy heart as well as m_v head ache
to hear.’
‘God forbid that I should ever
go near such a deii of iiiiijuit}’,’
replied her husband, ‘when I’ve
such a happv home to draw to.
Why, Jane, we must have our
revenge, it won’t do to be prattled
to, ill tliat iiiaiiner, bj' such a
woman as she.’
‘That we must,’ i-eplied Mrs.
Megson, her eye flashing, and
then she began telling her hus
band the way she intended doing
it. When she had finished her
husband replied :
■Why, Jane, I think I’ve found
a better way of revenge than
yours.’
‘Just like you, John,’ said Mrs.
Megson, smiling, ‘3 ou always did
find out better wa3's than mine.
What is it!’
‘Why, here it is, wile,’ replied
John ; ‘suppose we take our re
venge b\’ heaping coals of fire
upon her head 1’
‘Heap coals of fire upon her
head !’ ejacuated Mrs. Megson, in
a tone of surprise; ‘winy John,
that would be downright cruelty;
surely you don’t mean it.’
‘Bill J do,” returned her hus
band, half smiling at the manner
in which his wife had misunder
stood him ; ‘though, of course,’
he went on, ‘it’s not the coals
t'ou’re thinkiiiijr of I intend using,
but Bible coals; which keep up
the fire of kindness.’
‘Why, John, £ never heard you
»jibak like tliat b'etoi'ev’ exclaimed
his wife, ‘nor did I know that the
Bible said aiu'thiiig about the
coals and fire 3‘ou speak of.’
‘^esitdoes, wife,’ replied her
liusbaiid, reaching down the old
fainilv' Bible, and beginning to
turn over its leaves. ‘Li.sren here,
Jane,’ lie exclaimed, and he read :
‘ I lieretore it thine enemy liuii-
ger, feed him ; if he thirst, give
him drink : for in so doing, thou
slialt lieap coals of lire upcm his
head. Be not overcome of evil,
hut overcome evil with good.’
‘There now, Jane,’ he added,
when he liad finished, ‘that’s how
ilie Bible tells us to overcome our
enemies.’
‘But, John,’ said Mrs. Megson,
‘she’s not hungering and thir.sting,
that we need give lier food and
drink, so it’s no use in us using
the coals of fire it means.’
‘Ma3'be, Jane,’ returned her
husband, ‘she’s thirsting for kind
ness ; and 1 can’t hut see that we
are able to snpph' her too. Look
here, wife,’ he exclaimed emphat
ically, ‘give her that basketful of
potatoes, which I brought home
for 3'ou last ntght.’
‘John, John, 3-011 are talking
nonsense.’ returned Mrs. Megson.
‘Don’t 3’on know such women as
she are not won over so easy as
that ? And it’s my notion that
she would he the more aiigrv
with me, if I’d to heconie so soft-
liearted as 3-011 want me. It would
not do, John : such women as she
will not give in for anything of
that sort. Why, if I did such a
thing as that, all the village would
laugh at me and sin- Td become
soft, and—’
‘Have von ever tried tlio pow
er of kindness, Jane f added her
hnshaiid interrupting lier.
‘I’ts no use in oiir village. I’m
sure,’ replied Mrs. Megson, rather
irritated at the manner in which
her husband spoke.
‘The power of kindness,’ went
on her.hnsband, ‘is a power, Jane,
none can resist even in onr vil
lage, and I ivant 3-011 to trv' it
witli Mrs. Tastings; don’t von
think, now, but that the Bible’s
wavs of overcoming onr enemies
w-ould be the best if thev were
tried V
Mrs. Megson remained silent;
she knew her husband was right,
and she did not know how to got
over his plain wa3' of reasoning,
but she saw that if she worked
out her own way of revenge upon
Mrs. Tastings, it would displease
him which she did not want to do,
namel3^, to return good for evil,
prevailed, and she then replied,
‘Win-, John, I think 3-our wa3'
or, at least, the Bible way, is the
best; and when I see her again
I’ll just tr3' it.’
The next day Mrs. Megson
might be seen crossing over the
street, to Mrs. Tastings’ door,
w'ith a basket of potatoes slung
upon her arm. It was a very
timid knock that she gave, and
she had half a mind to run awav^
again before it was opened, which
it was, by Mrs. Tastings’ son,
Tomm3'.
‘Here’s a basket of potatoes for
■vour mother,’ exclaimed Mrs.
"Megson: ‘1 thought she would
like a few jierhaps,’ at the same
time handing Tommy the basket,
and which he, without a word,
took into the house to his mother.
Ml'S. Megson was about to torn
awa)' again, when she heard a
voice behind her ; it was Tom
my’s and he said,
‘Mother say-s she don’t want
\-oiir potatoes nor von either,’
and handing them buck again, he
slaiiiiiied the door in her face.
‘Just as I expected,’ murmured
Mrs. Megson, as witli a heavy-
heart, she retraced her footstep's
home again. ‘What a fool 1 was
to listen to John nr the Bible’s
advice, too ; it don't suit jieople
in our village, as I told liiiii. But
men are uncommonly stiipidabout
such matters now-a-days.’
That night, when John return
ed from his work, he saw by his
wife’s cimiiteiiiuice that she had
not succeeded, and listened to her
account jOi what had transpired
with a grave and serious look.
‘And now, John,’ .she added, ‘I
told yon liow it would turn out;
kiiidiies.s won’t do in our village.’
‘Only heap on more coals, wife,’
replied John, ciihiih', ‘and y-ou’ll
succeed yet; the fire of kindness
can’t be got up in a moment; tr3‘
again, .June.’
John’s words inspired fresh
confidence in his wife, and she
thought within her self, ‘Wh3-, I
might as widl go on now, as I’ve
made the start.’
A lew days afterwards she saw
.Mrs. I castings going to the well,
a quarter of a mile off, witli a can
to fetch some water.
‘iirs. Tastings, 3-on need not
go so tar for y'onr water, when
3-on’re at liberty- to come to onr
pumj),’ said Mrs. Megson. Jlrs.
Tastings ])aiised, and looked at
the speaker as if she could hardlv
believo lier own eye.s. Could this
be the woman she had called .so
a few days previous ! But so it
was, and a look of shame suft’nsed
her face as she thought of what
.she iiad done tlieii, and the kind
ness Mrs. Megson was showing
her now. But her proud spirit
could not hear to be conquered in
such ail easy manner, and siie re-
[ilied,
‘Why, thank 3-0U the same,
Mrs. alegsoii, but I’d rather fetch
my water from the well,’ and so
sped on her wa3-. It was with a
more cheerful eoniitenance that
Mrs. Megson greeted iier husband
tliat evening on his return from
Ins work, for though she had not
been so .successful in winning
Mrs. Tastings as she had wished,
still she was convinced by her
manner that her kindness was
taking eft’ect.
‘You’ll win yet, Jane,
keep heaping on the coals,’
John with a smile, when his wife
had narrated to him what had
passed between her and Mrs.
Tastings that day. And it was
not long before Mrs. Megson was
enabled to carry out her husband’s
advice to the fulness of her wishes,
as will be seen in the following
incident;
One day Mrs. Megson heard a
confused noise outside, and on
looking out, she beheld a horse
tethered to a light cart, coming
at a terrific speed down the street,
with a number of people trying
in vain to stop it.
Now it happened that Mary
Tastings’ y-oungest child was right
in the middle of the street, and
would ill ail probability have
been run over, and, perhaps kill
ed an the spot-, had not Mre.
only-
said
Megson rushed forward and, re
gardless of all danger to herself,
snatched it from the danirer in
which it had been placed. As it
was she did not escape beinghnrt,
for, before she had barely time to
escape, the hoise turned a little
from its course, and the wheel of
the cart, catching her, threw.her
dawn with siicJi force as to render
her unconscious for a time. When
she recovered sl'.e found herself
in her own house, surrounded bv
a number of people who had wit
nessed the accident, amongst
whom was Mrs. Tastings, who
exchiimed, with the tears running
down her cheeks,
‘Oh, Mrs. Meg.son ! how-ever
shall I repay yon for this : and
how will y-ou ever forgive me for
what I did to yon before V
‘Mis. Tastings, you i.rj forgiv
en, exchiimed Mrs. Megson, grasp
ing her liand, ‘and henceforth let
ns be friends.’
‘There, Jane,’ replied John
Megson that evening, ‘did not 1
say that heaping coals of fire on
her head would win her at last 1’
‘Yes, John,’ returned his wife,
smiling ; ‘and I mean to stick to
that way as long as I live.’
May' all our readeis who have
enemies overcome them in the
same wav as Mrs. Megson did,
namely, by heaping coals of fire
upon their lieads, as it is written,
‘I'lierefore, if thine eneniy- hun
ger, feed him ; if he thirst, give
him drink ; for, in so doing, tliou
shalt heap coals of fire on his
head.’
’i’he pow-er of kindness does
not cost much, and mav bo used
bv us all.—British Workmm,
THE SE.ASO.K AND ZONE OF
IIOItlES.
One stronger reason than all
others for being glad that we live
ill the temperate zone, is that it
is tl;p zone of homes.
Greenlanders and Laplanders,
it is said, each consider their own
country the fairest the snu shines
upon, and charming stories of do
mestic life have come to us from
icy' latitudes. But the E.^quimaux
and Kanitchatkans, .and those in
habitants of extreme Arctic re
gioris who must live in snow-huts
or burrow underground for
warmth, cannot know the rich and
tender meanings the word ‘home’
has for us.
How- much comfort there is in
our cosey' houses alone,—in the
clean, warm room, perhaps with
a glowing fireside ; the white ta
ble spread with wholesome and
delicate food; the cheerful circle
around the lamp at evening ; the
books the .sewing, the games ; the
sound sleep of the long, snowy
night, the beds as white as the
drifts outside; and the many oth
er nameless blessings of a civil
ized home 1 These the children
of the eternal snows must do with
out.
There is more poetry in a real
ly' beautitiil homelife than in the
finest natural scenery ; but it lies
too deep in the heart for words
to express. It is poetry that is
felt rather than spoken. A hap
py home is a poem which every
one of the family is helping to
write, each for the enjoyment of
the rest, by little deeds of tender
ness and self-sacrifice, which mean
so mucli more than words. This
home-poem is all the more dr-
lightfiil because it does not ask
or need admiration from aiivliodv
outside. Tlie poetry tliat "peop'e
live in, of which they are a par',
and which is a jiart of them, is
always 4 he most satisfactory, bt-
canse it is the most real,
Ihink, little fo]k.s, of all the
poems and fragments of poems
you kinw’, that never could have
been written except in a eoiiritr\-
where tempest and sleet and Ioii'-t
hours of darkness drove men and
w-oinon and children within-dnors.
and kept them there to find out
how' dear and siveet a thing it i.s
f ir a iainily to live together in
love.—Lui'n Larcom, SC Nicholas
.for December.
THE DIPPEit A!\'D ITS .-tlOTIO.V.
In order to see the dippei* in
its different jiosition.s, and also in
that portion of its course which in
December it traverses during the
daytime, it is not necessary' to
keep a long watc'i upon the group,
or to study tlie heavens during
those ‘wee snia’ hours ayont the
twal’ wherein the professional a.s-
tronomer does tlie best part of his
work. If you come out in tlie
evening (say about eight) once
or twice a week on clear nh>-hts,
all through the winter half of the
year, and a little later during the
summer months, you rvill see the
dipper and all the polar groups
carried right round the pule. F
or
It
though,' speaking geiierallv,
may be said that they complete
a circuit once in every day, yet
in reality'they',-gain about four
m'nutes’ motion in the twenty-
tour hours, and thus get further
on little by little night alter night:
gaining an hours motion in
about a fortnight, two hours’ mo
tion in a month, twelve hours’
motion (or halt the complete cir
cuit) in half a year, until finally,
at Bio end of the year, they have
gained a complete circuit.
It is because of this steadv
turning motion or rotation around
the pole of the heavens, that tin-
stars of the dipper (say, for in
stance, the pointers) form as it
were a clock in the sky, by which
the astronomers at" any rate,
though also any one who is will
ing to give a little attention .
the matter, can tell the hour with
in a few minutes on any night ii
the y'ear.
A few observations made ’•
to
this way on a few nights during
the coarse of a
year, will nive
clearer idea of the steadv motion
of the star-dome (resulting in re
ality from the earth’s steady ro
tation on her axis) than any-
amount of description either in
books or by w'ord of mouth.—
Prof. It. A. Proctor,St. Nicholaffor
December.
Considerate father—‘You should
eat Graham bread, my son; it
makes bone.’ Responsive youth;
H’iii, I’m 'bout all bones now.’
A lazy fellow once declared In
a public company that he could
not, find bread for his fanilK-.
“Nor I,” replied an industrious
man, “Tm obliged to work for it.”
If.
T
|.r-
‘it,
A Chinaman upon being ap
plied to for the pay-meiit of »
debt, replied : ‘If no havee, how
canee V