“Henry,” he said, cheerfully and pleasantly, “if you were fishing in the river, and I were to come and throw stones in where your line fell, and scare away all the fish, would you like it?”
“No, I should not,” replied the lad.
“It wouldn’t be kind in me?”
“No, of course it wouldn’t.”
“Well, now, Henry”—William tried to smile and to speak very pleasantly—“we are playing here and trying to enjoy ourselves. Is it right for you to come and interrupt us by tripping up our feet, pulling us about, and pushing us down? I am sure you will not think so if you reflect a moment. So don’t do it any more, Henry.”
“No, I will not,” replied Henry promptly. “I am sorry that I disturbed you. I didn’t think what I was doing. And now I remember, father told me not to stay, and I must run home.”
So Henry Green went quickly away, and the children were left to enjoy themselves.
“Didn’t I tell you that kind words were more powerful than harsh words, William?” said his mother, after Henry had gone away. “When we speak harshly to our fellows, we arouse their angry feelings, and then evil spirits have power over them; but when we speak kindly, we affect them with gentleness, and good spirits flow into this latter state, and excite in them better thoughts and intentions. How quickly Henry changed, when you changed your manner and the character of your language. Do not forget this, my son. Do not forget that kind words have double the power of harsh ones.”
