ever throw a hatchet
again."

"You are bold to promise to stop short anywhere when relieving
passionate feelings by indulgence has begun on two sides. And, my
dear, matters are no better where the indulgence is in words instead
of blows. In the very mean and undignified position of abusing those
who cannot return your abuse it might answer; but 'innocent strong
language' would cease to be of any good when it was returned. If to
'Cockatoos and kingfishers! where are my shooting-boots?' an equally
violent voice from below replied, 'Bats and blackbeetles! look for
them yourself!' some stronger vent for the steam of hot temper would
have to be found, and words of any kind would soon cease to relieve
the feelings. Isobel, I have had long and hard experience, and your
ideas are not new ones to me. Believe me, child, the only real relief
is in absolute conquest, and the earlier the battle begins, the easier
and the shorter it will be. If one can keep irritability under, one
may escape a struggle to the death with passion. I am not cramming
principles down your throat--I say as a matter of personal practice,
that I do not know, and never hope to find a smoother or a shorter
way. But I can say also--after Victory comes Peace."

I gave a heavy sigh.

"Thank you, Aunt Isobel, I will try; but it makes my second difficulty
all the worse. I can fancy that I might possibly learn self-control; I
can fancy by main force holding my tongue, or compelling it to speak
very slowly and civilly: but one can't force one's feelings. Aunt
Isobel, if I had been very much insulted or provoked, I might keep on
being civil for years on the outside, but how I should hate! You can't
prevent yourself hating. People talk about 'forgive and forget.' If
forgiving means doing no harm, and forgetting means behaving quite
civilly, as if nothing had happened, one could. But of course it's
nonsense to talk of making yourself really _forget_ anything. And I
think it's just as absurd to talk of making yourself forgive, if
forgiveness means feeling really kindly and comfortable as you did
before. The very case in which I am most sure you are right about
self-control is one of the worst the other way. I ought to be ashamed
to speak of it--but I mean the hatchet-quarrel. If I had been very
good instead of very wicked, and had restrained myself when Philip
pulled all my work to pieces, and jeered at me for being miserable, I
_couldn't_ have loved him again as I d