a horse cannot manage a man.

We know of pastors who have balky parishioners. When any important move is
to take place, and all the other horses of the team are willing to draw,
they lay themselves back in the harness.

First the pastor pats the obstreperous elder or deacon on the neck and
tells him how much he thinks of him. This only makes him shake his mane and
grind his bit. He will die first before he consents to such a movement.
Next, he is pulled by the ear, with a good many sharp insinuations as to
his motives for holding back. Fires of indignation are built under him for
the purpose of consuming his balkiness. He is whipped with the scourge of
public opinion, but this only makes him kick fiercely and lie harder in the
breeching-straps. He is backed down into the ditch of scorn and contempt,
but still is not willing to draw an ounce. O foolish minister, trying in
that way to manage a balky parishioner! Let him alone. Go on and leave him
there. Pay less attention to the horse that balks, and give more oats to
those that pull. Leave him out in the cold. Some day you will come back and
find him glad to start. At your first advance he will arch his neck, paw
his hoof, bend into the bit, stiffen the traces and dash on. We have the
same prescription for balky horses and men: for a little while let them
alone.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

ANONYMOUS LETTERS.

In boyhood days we were impressed with the fertility of a certain author
whose name so often appeared in the spelling books and readers, styled
Anon. He seemed to write more than Isaac Watts, or Shakespeare, or Blair.
In the index, and scattered throughout all our books, was the name of Anon.
He appeared in all styles of poetry and prose and dialogue. We wondered
where he lived, what his age was, and how he looked, it was not until quite
late in boyhood that we learned that Anon was an abbreviation for
anonymous, and that he was sometimes the best saint and at other times the
most extraordinary villain.

After centuries of correspondence old Anonymous is as fertile of thought
and brain and stratagem as ever, and will probably keep on writing till the
last fire burns up his pen and cracks to pieces his ink bottle. Anonymous
letters sometimes have a mission of kindness and gratitude and good cheer.
Genuine modesty may sometimes hide the name of an epistolary author or
authoress. It may be a "God bless you" from some one who thinks herself
hardly in a position to