out from among ye, by teaching the mind,
By training the heart, this chief curse of mankind!
'Tis a duty you owe to the forthcoming race--
Confess it in time, and discharge it with grace!

WORDS.

"THE foolish thing!" said my Aunt Rachel, speaking warmly, "to get hurt
at a mere word. It's a little hard that people can't open their lips but
somebody is offended."

"Words are things!" said I, smiling.

"Very light things! A person must be tender indeed, that is hurt by a
word."

"The very lightest thing may hurt, if it falls on a tender place."

"I don't like people who have these tender places," said Aunt Rachel. "I
never get hurt at what is said to me. No--never! To be ever picking
and mincing, and chopping off your words--to be afraid to say this or
that--for fear somebody will be offended! I can't abide it."

"People who have these tender places can't help it, I suppose. This
being so, ought we not to regard their weakness?" said I. "Pain,
either of body or mind, is hard to bear, and we should not inflict it
causelessly."

"People who are so wonderfully sensitive," replied Aunt Rachel, growing
warmer, "ought to shut themselves up at home, and not come among
sensible, good-tempered persons. As far as I am concerned, I can tell
them, one and all, that I am not going to pick out every hard word from
a sentence as carefully as I would seeds from a raisin. Let them crack
them with their teeth, if they are afraid to swallow them whole."

Now, for all that Aunt Rachel went on after this strain, she was a kind,
good soul, in the main, and, I could see, was sorry for having hurt the
feelings of Mary Lane. But she didn't like to acknowledge that she was
in the wrong; that would detract too much from the self-complacency with
which she regarded herself. Knowing her character very well, I thought
it best not to continue the little argument about the importance of
words, and so changed the subject. But, every now and then, Aunt Rachel
would return to it, each time softening a little towards Mary. At last
she said,

"I'm sure it was a little thing. A very little thing. She might have
known that nothing unkind was intended on my part."

"There are some subjects, aunt," I replied, "to which we cannot bear the
slightest allusion. And a sudden reference to them is very apt to throw
us off of our guard. What you said to Mary has, in all probability
touched some weakness of character, or probed som