h wisdom flows to man.

Of course he had some trouble in teaching his little ones, just as other
fathers have. One evening, when speaking about this favourite maxim, he
was interrupted by a most awful yell under the table.

"Why, what ever is the matter with the cat?" said the blacksmith in
surprise.

"It's on'y me, fadder," said little Jim; "I found hims tail, and I
pulled it _wid all my might_!"

"Ah, Jim!" said Mrs Thorogood, laughing, as she placed a huge plate of
crumpets on the table, "it's only when a thing is _right_ we are to do
it with our _might_. Pulling the cat's tail is wrong.

"`When a thing's wrong,
Let it alone.
When a thing's right,
Do it with might.'

"Come now, supper's ready."

"Capital poetry, Old Moll," shouted the blacksmith, as he drew in his
chair, "but not quite so good as the supper. Now, then--silence."

A blessing was asked with clasped hands and shut eyes. Then there was a
sudden opening of the eyes and a tendency in little hands to grasp at
the crumpets, buttered-toast, bacon, and beans, but good training told.
Self-restraint was obvious in every trembling fist and glancing eye.
Only curly-haired little Jim found the smell too much for him. He was
about to risk reputation and everything, when a glance from his father
quelled the rebellious spirit.

"Come, Jim, fair-play. Let it go right round, like the sun,--beginning
wi' mother."

Then silence reigned for a time--a profound silence--while upwards of
two hundred teeth went to work. Ere long most of the children were
buttered to the eyes, and their rosy cheeks glistened like ripe apples.
Soon the blacksmith drew a long breath and paused. Looking round with a
benign smile he asked little Jim how he got along.

"Fust rate," said Jim.

"How I wish," said Dick, with a sad look at the toast, "that we might go
on eatin' for ever."

"Is it right, daddy," asked Tom, during a pause, "to _eat_ with all our
might?"

"Certainly, my boy, till you've had enough. After that it's wrong to
eat at all. `Enough's as good as a feast,' you know. Now, Old Moll,
one more cup to wash it all down, and then we'll go in for a
confabulation round the fire."

Now, nothing rejoiced the hearts of that family so much as a
confabulation round the fire on a winter night, or under the great elm
in front of the forge on the village green in summer.

The table was cleared as if by magic, for every member of the family
helped. Soon,