you'll give me a quiet
hearing, as you have come that you may know why I said I must kill some
of you. You've done me harm, some of you, but I've done you none; so
the least you can do is to listen to me patiently."

"Ay, ay," said one or two voices, and there was a hush of earnest
attention.

The master then unlocked his desk, and taking out a printed paper, read
it out clearly and with due spirit and emphasis. It was the admirable
tract entitled "The Man who Killed his Neighbour." When he had finished
reading there was a general murmur of satisfaction, and all were deeply
attentive as he went on to say, "Now, dear friends, that's the way I
mean to kill some of you: I mean to do it by patience, by kindness, and
by returning good for evil, as the good man in the tract did. I'm sorry
of course, that my roses have been cut down and my flower-beds trampled
on. But let that pass; I shan't fret over it, nor try to find out who
did it. But I do want to get you to believe that my great desire and
aim is to do you good; and if I can manage, by God's help, to persuade
you of this, I shall have killed the enemy that is living in your hearts
against me, and we shall be happy and good friends."

No one offered any reply, and the meeting broke up; but the master had
gained his object. Many who had been set against him were now
thoroughly ashamed of themselves; nearly every door was gladly opened to
himself and his wife; and one morning, when he came out into his garden,
he found that some unknown hands had planted new rose-trees in the place
of those which had been destroyed. So the good man was making a way
steadily for the spread of the truth.

Nevertheless, the evil one had still many devoted followers, especially
among the tipplers. As one of these unhappy men was one day emerging
from a beer-shop in Bridgepath, with flushed face and uncertain step, he
ran against Horace Jackson, who was just then passing through the
village. Uttering a loud oath, the man was about to move on, when
Horace, catching him by the arm, compelled him to stand still, while he
sharply reproved him for his drunkenness and profanity. A little
staggered and abashed, the man muttered something that sounded half like
an apology; and then, shaking himself free from Horace's grasp, pointed
with his pipe across the green, and said scoffingly, "'Tain't of no use
speaking to me. If you wants a good hard piece to try your hand on, see
what you can