uck her a blow."

"Right, Jacob, right; sit down to thy breakfast, and when done eating I
will attend to the heifer."

Shortly after he had finished his repast, Lawson mounted a horse, and
rode over to Dood's, who was sitting under the porch in front of his
house, and who, as he beheld the Quaker dismount, supposed he was coming
to demand pay for his filly, and secretly swore he would have to law for
it if he did.

"Good morning, neighbour Dood; how is thy family?" exclaimed Obadiah, as
he mounted the steps and seated himself in a chair.

"All well, I believe," was the crusty reply.

"I have a small affair to settle with you this morning, and I came
rather early."

"So I suppose," growled Watt.

"This morning, my son found thy Durham heifer in my garden, where she
has destroyed a good deal."

"And what did he do with her?" demanded Dood, his brow darkening.

"What would thee have done with her, had she been my heifer in thy
garden?" asked Obadiah.

"I'd a shot her!" retorted Watt, madly, "as I suppose you have done; but
we are only even now. Heifer for filly is only 'tit for tat.'"

"Neighbour Dood, thou knowest me not, if thou thinkest I would harm a
hair of thy heifer's back. She is in my farm-yard, and not even a blow
has been struck her, where thee can get her at any time. I know thee
shot my filly; but the evil one prompted thee to do it, and I lay no
evil in my heart against my neighbours. I came to tell thee where thy
heifer is, and now I'll go home."

Obadiah rose from his chair, and was about to descend the steps, when he
was stopped by Watt, who hastily asked,

"What was your filly worth?"

"A hundred dollars is what I asked for her," replied Obediah.

"Wait a moment!" and Dood rushed into the house, from whence he soon
returned, holding some gold in his hand. "Here's the price of your
filly; and hereafter let there be a pleasantness between us."

"Willingly, heartily," answered Lawson, grasping the proffered hand of
the other; "let there be peace between us."

Obadiah mounted his horse, and rode home with a lighter heart, and from
that day to this Dood has been as good a neighbour as one could wish to
have; being completely reformed by the RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL.

PUTTING YOUR HAND IN YOUR NEIGHBOUR'S POCKET.

"DO you recollect Thomas, who lived with us as waiter about two years
ago, Mary?" asked Mr. Clarke, as he seated himself in his comfortable
arm-chair, and slipped his