GOOD AS AN EXPERIMENT.
Dear Jack: I have a little friend, called Jack, too, who is generally the most sweet-tempered boy I know. But one day he came to play in my rooms, as usual, for I always keep his toys there, in repair and order. He soon grew tired of them, and came to me for a story. I was busy with reading, and refused, telling him to wait until I had leisure. Then he grew impatient, and put my book down with a coaxing "Please, Fred." I could not humor him then, and gently told him to stop. Then—I am sorry to say it—he became very angry, and gave me a blow in my face. Now, Jack, don't pass your sentence yet—remember, it was the first and only act of that kind. But guess what I did.
I stooped over him and kissed him, saying: "Is this my little boy?" He looked at me and went into a corner—ashamed and weeping. Was not that a sweet victory? I wish some little sisters or brothers would try it. You may believe me this is truth. Some future day I will tell you how I made him some toys.—Yours,
Fred.