to succeed until some mysterious difficulty
developed that interfered seriously with results. And just when the new
superintendent was losing sleep over his problem, the old superintendent
came to town.

"He's come for his revenge!" was the thought of the new superintendent.

But the superintendent did not wait for a visit from the man he feared;
he sought him at once. "He must know the extent of my meanness," he
decided. So he told his story. To his surprise the former foreman seemed
more interested in the account of the progress of the mill than in the
sorry tale of past misdeeds. Learning of the mysterious difficulty that
threatened failure in the attempt to break the production record, the
injured man showed real concern. "I can't imagine where the difficulty
is, but I'd like to take a look around for it," he said. Arm in arm,
then, the two men, once bitter enemies, moved toward the mill. The
search was successful, the difficulty was corrected, and the record was
broken.

Fine story, isn't it? What a pity it is only a story, that such things
don't ever happen in real life!

Don't they? How about Henry Nasmyth, the English inventor of the steam
piledriver, whose ideas were stolen by French machinists? His first
knowledge of the piracy was when he saw a crude imitation of his
piledriver in a factory in France. Instead of seeking damages and
threatening vengeance, he pointed out mistakes made in construction and
helped his imitators perfect the appliance they had stolen from him.

Yes, such things do happen in daily life. They are happening every day.
As we read of them or hear of them or meet people who are actors in such
a drama, we are conscious of admiration for the deed, a quickening of
the pulse, and the thankful thought that the world is not such a bad
place after all.

But are we to stop with quickened heartbeats and gratitude for the
greatness of heart shown by others? How about the bitterness we have
been treasuring against some one who has injured us--or some one we
think has injured us (it is astonishing how many of the slights and
indignities for which vengeance has been vowed are only imaginary, after
all!) How long do we intend to persist in treasuring the grudge that has
perhaps already caused sorrow that cannot be measured? Let's be
courageous enough to own ourselves in the wrong, when we are in the
wrong, and to forgive the evil that has been kept alive by our
persistent efforts to remember it