“I know they should not, father; but did I not hear you say last winter that you would not assist Simon Brown again, for it was only encouraging him in idleness? Do you not remember what we were told about his allowing his poor wife, with her feeble health, to go out to wash, while he remained sitting quietly at home smoking his pipe and attending to the children?”
“I do recollect it well, Herbert; but my conclusions were too hasty. Upon inquiry I found that there was another side to the story. Poor Simon had the rheumatism so badly that for several weeks he could not walk one step. In this situation he could do nothing better than to make himself useful in the house, while his wife procured what work she could to aid in the support of their family. The truth is, my son, there is almost always two sides to a story, and if we suspend our judgment until we are sure that we know all the particulars, we shall avoid the injustice which too often results from hasty decisions.”
Herbert listened with respect and attention to his father’s words, and acknowledged their truth; but it was not until after several useful lessons that he learned to put this simple rule in practice.
Among the most valued of his playthings was a fine kite, remarkable for its beauty and the swiftness of its flight.
On his return from school one pleasant afternoon, Herbert perceived that there was a fine breeze, and hastily putting away his books, ran for his kite. But, to his surprise, it was not in its proper place. Who could have taken it? He felt quite sure that he put it away when he last played with it, and he felt much displeased that any one should have ventured to touch it without his leave.
He inquired of his mother and sisters, but they knew nothing of it. He then went to the kitchen, and Alice, the chambermaid, told him that about an hour before she had seen his younger brother, Henry, with it in his hand.
“He had no business to touch it without my leave,” exclaimed Herbert angrily. “I wish he would learn to let my things alone,” and his feelings toward his brother were filled with unkindness.
He went to the barn in search of him, but Henry was not there. In one corner, however, he discovered his kite, soiled and torn, with the sticks broken and the tail draggled in the dirt. This sight vexed him still more, and he seized a little wagon which he had been making for his brother that morning, and dashed it in pieces.
“He is a naughty, bad boy,” he exclaimed, “and I will do nothing for him.”
Upon further inquiry, he found that Henry had received permission to pass the afternoon at their Uncle’s, and would not return until evening.