ness on my part to
correct it."

"You must shun evil as sin," the minister remarked in a serious tone.

"I know, and it is for that reason I am troubled. I have unkind
thoughts, and they are evil, and yet I cannot put these unkind thoughts
away."

For a moment the minister sat silent, and then, looking up with a
smile, said--

"Come, Aunt Mary, be open and frank. Tell me all the particulars of
your troubles, and then I am sure I can help you."

Aunt Mary, in turn, sat silent and thoughtful for a short period, and
then, raising her head, she proceeded to relate her troubles. She told
him how much she had been tried, year after year, during the preserving
season, by the neighbours who had borrowed her preserving kettle. It
was the best in the village, and she took a pride in it, but she could
have no satisfaction in its possession. It was always going, and never
returned in good order. She then frankly related how she had been tried
by Mrs. Tompkins, and how nearly all of her preserves were spoiled,
because she could not get home her kettle,--how the unkind feelings
which had suddenly sprung up between them in consequence had troubled
her, and even caused her to abstain, under conscientious scruples, from
the communion.

The minister's heart felt lighter in his bosom as she concluded her
simple narrative, and, smiling encouragingly, he said--"Don't let it
trouble you, Aunt Mary; it will all come right again. You have
certainly been treated very badly, and I don't wonder at all that your
feelings were tried."

"But what shall I do?" asked Aunt Mary, eagerly. "I feel very much
troubled, and am very anxious to have all unkindness done away."

"Do you think you can forgive Mrs. Tompkins?"

"Oh, yes. She has not acted kindly, but I can forgive her from my
heart."

"Then you might call over and see her, and explain the whole matter. I
am sure all difficulties will end there."

"I will go this day," Aunt Mary said, encouragingly.

The minister sat a short time longer, and then went away. He had no
sooner gone, than Aunt Mary put on her things and went directly over to
Mrs. Tompkins.

"Good morning, Mrs. Pierce," that lady said, coolly, as her visitor
entered. She had always before called Aunt Mary by the familiar name by
which she was known in the village.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tompkins. I have come over to say that I am very
sorry if I offended you on Saturday. I am sure I did not mean to do so.
I only sent f