right: indeed, that it is taken as certain. They will not disappoint all their friends, and stain a good reputation. But if a poor wretch has no reputation to maintain: if he knows that he is expected to make a fool of himself; and that the thing which would astonish everybody would be his behaving with good temper and good sense: if he knows, further, that if he behaved ever so well, a great many of his acquaintances would hasten to say that he had behaved very badly: what a wholesome check is taken off that luckless mortal: moral curb, blinkers, bearing-rein, and kicking-strap! and of course he breaks out and fires up and exhibits himself as an ill-tempered fool. I do not say but he is blameworthy: but certainly he deserves profound pity; and the kindly sympathy and helping-hand. You, energetic and warm-hearted reader, not without the sensitive nervous system and the vivid memory, who by forbearance, self-control, good sense, good taste, good temper, have got so far on your journey through life with very few quarrels, have sometimes felt that rising within you which, unrepressed, might have resulted in making you as utter an Ishmaelite as some poor fellow you readily think of in your own vocation, who has not left himself a friend. And it was not easy to repress it. There are those to whom it is far easier and more natural to say the sharp word than to hold it back. And you have said many a sharp word: but they were said inarticulately. You have dealt many a smart blow, perhaps even a stab or two: but it was all done inwardly: you stopped it in the millionth part of a second: and never mortal knew but yourself. If you believe as I believe, you will think you may have to answer for it some day. You are not so much better than

the poor wretch who burst out with what you kept in. A very great man, who was also a good man, told

me that in the view of certain social and ecclesiastical facts, he had cursed and sworn a great deal, dumbly. He was one of the greatest preachers and philanthropists of his time. And multitudes who knew and revered him would have been amazed beyond expression had they heard those unspoken words.

To this point the idea present to the writer's mind has been one which possibly is quite away from the reader's experience. It has been the idea of a person in a public station who falls out with all those with whom he is called to work: all above him, all below him, all coordinate with him. That such quarrelsome persons exist is certain fact. Once upon a time, a human being desired to convey a message to the incumbent of a Scotch parish. He met the incumbent's man-servant, a quaint old person, and asked him to convey the message to the clergyman. The man-servant listened with a somewhat embarrassed air; and finally said, 'If ye please, sir, I would rayther ye wrote him a letter for ye see the Doakter and me are no on speaking terms at present.' The Doctor, one of the most genial of men, had found it needful to give a scolding to his old domestic-a scolding which in half an hour he had completely forgot: and the old servant preferred to put the case as an estrangement between equals rather than as the fault of an inferior and the gentle indignation of his master. But the instance comes in illustration of what I have said as to quarrelling with those below, above, and on the level. I have known a clergyman who might be said to have quarrelled with his bishop, with the neighbouring clergy, likewise with his beadle and pew

the unlucky and unpleasing mortal whose strifes and alienations are in the fields of private life: the man who is not on speaking terms with his brothers, who cannot manage to live with his wife, who is always changing his lawyer, picking a quarrel with his clergyman, bringing an action at law against the neighbouring squire about some trumpery matter of fences or waterprivileges, rushing from one shopkeeper to another for some small negligence or offence, and served by a rapid succession of the least trustworthy kind of servants. The truly quarrelsome person is a pattern of consistency: he never fails to maintain his character: he quarrels daily from the beginning to the end of a long life. It is his nature: and nature will assert itself. As surely as wood will float and lead will sink, will the quarrelsome man get into an altercation. Place him in the conditions; and the consequence is sure.

A friend of the writer's once was in a crowded railway station at the starting of a train. He was told that a certain very eminent and truly amiable but extremely irritable philosopher was to go by it. When the train had gone, he stated that he had seen the great philosopher, and was much interested in the sight. How did you know him? was the natural question. The ready answer was, 'I saw an old gentleman giving an awful blowingup to one of the porters, and I knew it must be the great man." So it was. And doubtless, when the train had gone, there would be an altercation on the question whether the carriage windows should be up or down.

It is curious, but true, that the irritable nervous system which makes a man go through life in this contentious way, is sometimes associated with a very soft voice and pleasant manner. When I was a young lad, I saw for the first time one whose name was a proverb over a large tract of the country for his

quarrelsome nature. No reader can possibly surmise who he was: and it can do no harm now to say that in his time he approached more nearly to having his hand against every man and every man's hand against him than any other human being in the land he lived in. And how astonishing it was to find the gentle tones of a most pleasant voice, and a deferential, kindly, and almost timid manner, as the ordinary characteristics of the fierce Ishmaelite. When the offence came, indeed, he became in one instant another man: it was as if you had trod on the tail of a sleeping and truculent bull-dog. The voice changed, the features changed: there might be justice to an opponent, but it was the hardest and sternest. When he was in such a mood, the name of Sir Walter Scott happened to be mentioned. The irritable man exclaimed, with vociferous wrath, 'Sir Walter Scott was a fool!'

It is a very trying thing to be constrained by circumstances to maintain relations with a quarrelsome person. It approaches closely to the character of the thorn in the flesh, when you have some tie to such a one which you cannot break, and so must have many dealings with him. Such a trouble, no doubt, is good for one you learn the habit of self-restraint, likewise of deliberation in speech: but no one would willingly hold much intercourse with a fellow-creature in talking with whom you must be ever on your guard, for fear he may take offence. And all your caution will not hinder you some day saying or doing that which a perverse ingenuity may twist into a ground of offence. Mr. Jollikin one winter afternoon said to Mr. Snarling that the latter had chosen an unpleasant day for his walk. Mr. Snarling replied, with much bitterness, that he supposed that concerned nobody but himself; and would hardly speak to Jollikin for about three months. Jollikin

would be too thankful if he never needed to speak to Snarling any more for ever: but there are many matters of business on which it is indispensable that they should communicate. You fancy that in your dealings with some quarrelsome person, you will be so forbearing, so reasonable, so yielding, so pleasant in manner, that it will not be possible for him to pick a quarrel with you. You are wholly mistaken. Go to right or left, that person will find an offence in what you do. There are creatures, not shut up as insane, who would have irritated Job and infuriated Moses.

A word of the latter great Lawgiver. A friend of mine went to church one day. An eminent clergyman preached. He remarked to the congregation that probably some of them had felt surprise at finding Moses described as the meekest of men, inasmuch as he on various occasions broke out into manifestations of rather violent temper. But then, said the distinguished preacher, you must consider how Moses was placed. For many years, Moses had the charge of a great number of Jews. Now, if any of you had the charge of one Jew for two or three weeks, you would learn to wonder at Moses' meekness instead of being surprised by his occasional outbursts. At this point, the congregation audibly tittered. The preacher, among many high qualities, was lacking in humour. It had never occurred to him that he was saying what could cause a smile. And he appeared much surprised and even shocked at the result of his very just observation. It was understood that he had, at one period of his life, the care of a convert from Judaism: and that personal experience made its moan in these sentences.

It may well be admitted that the position held by Moses was a trying one. But I have a distinct conviction that there are positions in modern life which make nearly as

heavy a demand upon forbearance and good nature. There is one such position, whose nature I shall but in the remotest measure indicate, in which a few human beings are placed; which long and sorrowful experience has proved to be too much for the temper of even very It conscientious and good men. has subjected such to what in mechanics is called a breaking strain. And the upshot has been not merely discomfort to themselves, but public scandal. There are men so coupled that they cannot quarrel without injuring their power to do their work efficiently and well. I am supposing both to be reputable and worthy. Unhappily, it is not always so. And then, it becomes specially needful that the one who has a character to lose should refuse to be led into a public quarrel by any measure of provocation. Let such a one ever remember that people at a distance, unaware of the facts, will at once take up the rough impression that there must be faults on both sides. There is no more irritating experience than when one who has practised patience beyond Job's with some cantankerous fool, but in the end breaks out upon him, hears that said. Wherefore, never break out!

With whatever inward

effort, see you never quarrel with the human creature whose character is such that a quarrel would be unmixed gain to him and unmixed loss to you. You are not on equal terms. Don't quarrel, however bard your adversary tries for a quarrel, and however far in the wrong he may be. Draw off from him: but

no more.

And let the reputable mortal, when the disreputable tries hard to have a blow-up with him, remember a fact beyond the certain fact that indifferent strangers will in the case of a blow-up conclude that both parties are so far in the wrong. The further fact is this: most certain and most lamentable yet quite explicable. There are a certain set of

people who in case of strife between the reputable and the disreputable will always take the side of the disreputable simply because such. By necessity of their nature and position they will become the vehement partizans of a man immediately on its being made plain that he is a drunkard, a forger, or a swindler. Not necessarily because they feel that thus his character approximates to theirs, though this consideration has its weight: but broadly, because they must needs take the side that is opposed to law and order, and to the way of thinking of the educated class. He was a practical philosopher, that American statesman, who finding his popularity waning with a large stratum of his constituents, revived it by stealing a sheep. This, being made known, set the better class against him: and instantly excited the warmest regard for him on the part of the worse class. He was an injured man, the victim of calumny: the true cause of his restored popularity being the secret conviction in the hearts of his friends that the calumny was quite true. Long ago, in a remote part of Britain, there was a man, the incumbent of a rural parish, whose church was thinly attended, and in whose preaching no Imortal felt the smallest interest. But that man, besides being stupid, was bad and by ecclesiastical sentence he was turned out of his living deposed, we call it. He forthwith proceeded to hold open-air services in various places: strong sympathy with the victim of oppression was developed in many illformed minds; and it was said that sometimes three thousand persons assembled to hear him preach. No one, indeed, of the smallest intelligence countenanced him. But he was able to sustain himself in the sense of pular favour. For popularity sometimes means the favourable opinion of a great many mortals, the opinion of each of whom is worth nothing.

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Yet, to a wrong-doer, popularity is a helpful thing. Even though he knows he does not deserve it, it is sustaining. But it is specially sus taining in such a case as I have described, because the wrong-doer knows that he does deserve the peculiar popularity he has got. It is by no means accorded him under any mistake. There is a clear, though unexpressed understanding, between the notorious scoundrel, and the crowd that cheers him.

It is very difficult, in practical life, for some men, peculiarly placed, to take the right line in regard to quarrelling, or indicating a potentiality of quarrelling. Nothing can be more wretched than to be ever on the watch for an offence: to be ever whipping one's self up into a fever of wrath; writing ferocious letters to innocent acquaintances ; cutting such dead: acquiring a reputation for a waspish wrongheadedness that will gradually make a wilderness around a man. But, on the other hand, a sheep-like incapacity of resentment and defence will invite aggression and impertinence. It will not do that the human being should just let himself be kicked and take no offence. It is expedient that it should be understood that the sharp claws are there: thus they will never need to be used. If it is made plain that you are quite able to defend yourself, you will hardly ever be called to do so. There is a practical difficulty here, specially felt by men in certain vocations: but the use of wisdom is to overcome practical difficulties. The writer's father, a wise and good man, was for many years a country clergyman. I have heard him speak of the peculiar difficulties of such a position, among a hard-headed and grasping population. Many people, he said, think it quite fair to cheat a clergyman: and then if the clergyman objects to being cheated, they call him a worldly-minded man. Such people expect from the parson

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a literal obedience to the famous and good rule to turn the other cheek when smitten, which they never dream of rendering themselves. Well, I can say no more than was said by a very wise man long ago: Get wisdom. Wisdom, with meekness and deliberation, will help a man out of any difficulty not arising through discreditable action on his part. Mitis sapientia: an excellent thing and not inconsistent with a firm hand and a stout heart. The revered person named a little ago said that it was difficult for one placed as he was to hold the right course: he did not say it was impossible. And in his long life he was rarely cheated, and never insulted. Once, indeed, an ill-conditioned cur of a dissenting shopkeeper accosted him on the village street on a Monday morning, and said, 'You'll be glad to hear, sir, that we had a great congregation at the meeting-house last night.' 'Ah, that must have been very pleasant for you,' was the unruffled reply.

It is to be admitted that there are districts, both in England and Scotland, where the parochial clergy may meet occasional rudeness from some sour sectary, who fancies he is 'lifting up a testimony.' A friend of mine, lately inducted to a country living, soon proceeded to visit the parishioners. In a moorland tract, he entered the cottage of a little tailor. He sat down, and proceeded to talk, which he never found it difficult to do. The tailor sat on a table, stitching away in sulky silence. At length he spoke. Sir,'

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said he, I regard it as an unwarrantable intrusion, your entering my house and I ask ye in what capawcity ye've come here?' 'My good man,' was the reply,' I come as your parish clergyman: you know it is my duty to know all my parishioners, and to be of use to them in any way I can. I know you don't attend church, but that is no reason why you and I should not be

friends.' Answer: 'I dinna regard ye as a minister of Christ ava, but as a servant of Sawtan. If ye come as a gentleman, well and good, but as a minister I refuse to receive you.'

All this was unpromising: but ten years later that youthful parish priest would not have despaired of making something even of that little man. Thus early in his experience he had imperfectly learned forbearance: and I really think he answered wrongly. For, rising from his chair, he thus addressed the poor tailor: 'My good fellow, be pleased to understand that it is only as your parish clergyman I ever dreamt of visiting you : When I visit "as a gentleman," as you express it, I don't visit people in your position in life.' So saying, he departed.

I may say, for myself, that I think a clergyman should never meet the impertinence of an under-bred person with any remark evincing the smallest irritation. Without that, the thing can in most cases be stopped: failing this, keep out of the impertinent man's way. Let it be understood, indeed, that if the smart reply is held back, it is not because it is not forthcoming, but because the parson feels it would not be right to utter it; and not worth while. With all other men, it is well that even the most amiable should be understood to have a reserve fund of capacity to fire up: and that if the quarrel be forced, there is something volcanic to meet it. A look will sometimes suffice to stop one who is presuming on you: but I fear it can hardly be a look of pure amiability.

There is one case indeed in which it is impossible to resent any degree of insolence: but that case will not occur more than once in the lifetime of one man in a million. It is when a person in the position of a lady assails you in the language of Billingsgate. There is but the single course to follow.