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These remarks produced a visible effect upon Mrs. Martinet. She became silent and reflective, and continued so, to a great extent, during the half-hour that I remained.

Nearly two weeks elapsed before I called upon my friend again. I found her, happily, in a calmer state of mind than upon my previous visit. We were in the midst of a pleasant conversation, half an hour after I had come in, when one of the children, a boy between seven and eight years old, came into the room and made some complaint against his brother. The little fellow was excited, and broke in upon our quiet chitchat with a rude jar that I felt quite sensibly. I expected, of course, to hear him ordered from the room instantly. That had been my friend’s usual proceeding when these interruptions occurred; at least it had been so when I happened to be a visitor. But instead of this, she said in a low, mild, soothing voice,

“Well, never mind, Willy. You stay in the parlour with us, where Harry can’t trouble you.”

This was just the proposition, above all others, to please the child. His face brightened, and he came and nestled up closely to his mother, who was sitting on a corner of the sofa. Drawing an arm around him, she went on with the remarks she happened to be making when the interruption of his entrance occurred. No very long time elapsed before the parlour door flew open, and Harry entered, asking, as he did so, in a loud voice, for Willy.

“Willy is here. What do you want with him?” said the mother, in a quiet, but firm tone.

“I want him to come and play.”

“You were not kind to Willy, and he doesn’t wish to play with you.”

“Come, Willy, and play, and I will be kind,” said Harry.

“Will you let me be the master sometimes?” asked the little fellow, raising himself up from where he remained seated beside his mother.

“Yes, you shall be master, sometimes.”

“Then I’ll play,” and Willy sprang from the sofa and bounded from the room, as happy as he could be.

The mother smiled, and looking into my face, as soon as we were alone, said–

“You see, Kate, that I am trying your remedy, patience.”

“With most happy results, I am glad to see.”

“With better results than I could have believed, certainly. Gentleness, consideration, and firmness, I find do a great deal, and their exercise leaves my own mind in a good state. There is a power in patience that I did not believe it possessed. I can do more by a mildly spoken word, than by the most emphatic command uttered in a passion. This is the experience of a few weeks. But, alas! Kate, to be able to exercise patience–how hard a thing that is! It requires constant watchfulness and a constant effort. Every hour I find myself betrayed into the utterance of some hasty word, and feel its powerlessness compared to those that are most gently spoken.”

“Do you get on with your domestics any better than you did?”

“Oh, yes! Far better.”

“I suppose you sent Hannah away some time ago?”

“No. I have her yet.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, and she does very well.”

“Does she get your meals ready in time?”

“She is punctual to the minute.”

“Really she must have changed for the better! And is this, too, the result of patience and forbearance on your part?”

“I suppose so. What you said in regard to having patience, at your last visit, struck me forcibly, and caused me to feel humbled and self-condemned. The more I thought of it, the more satisfied was I that you were right. But it was one thing to see the use of patience, and another thing to exercise it. To be patient amid the turbulence, ill-tempers, and disobedience of children, and the irregularities, carelessness and neglect of domestics, seemed a thing impossible. I was in this state of doubt as to my ability to exercise the virtue so much needed in my household, when Hannah came to the door of the room where I was sitting in no very happy mood, and notified me of some want in the kitchen in an exceedingly provoking way. I was about replying sharply and angrily; but suddenly checking myself, I said in a quiet, mild way, ‘Very well, Hannah. I will see that it is supplied.’