How to Make up a Quarrel.
WILLIAM LADD was the President of the American Peace Society, and he believed that the principles of peace carried out, would retain good will among neighbors as well as among nations. But there was a time when he had not fully considered this subject—had not thought much about it, as I dare say many people have not. He believed that if a man struck him a blow, it was fair and best to strike right back again without considering if there were not some better way of overcoming the offender; or if a man did him an injury, why, as people commonly say, he would give him as good as he sent. He had a farm; and a poor man who lived on land adjoining his, neglected to keep up a fence which it was his business to keep in order, and in consequence his sheep got into William Ladd's wheat field and did much mischief. He told his man Sam to go to the neighbor and tell him he must mend the fence and keep the sheep out. But the sheep came in again, and William, who was a very orderly man himself, was provoked. “Sam,” he said, “go to that fellow, and tell him if he don’t keep his sheep out of my wheat field, I’ll have them shot.” Even this did not do; the sheep were in again. “Sam,” said William to his man, “take my gun, and shoot those sheep.” “I had rather not,” said Sam. “Rather not, Sam! Why, there are but three—it's no great job.” “No, sir; but the poor man has but three in the world, and I am not the person who likes to shoot a poor man’s sheep.” “Then the poor man should take proper care of them. I gave him warning; why didn’t he mend his fence?” “Well, sir, I guess it was because you sent him a rough kind of a message; it made him mad, and so he would not do it.” After considering a few minutes, William Ladd told Sam to put the horse to the buggy. “Shall I put in the gun?” Sam asked. William’s relation of what followed, we give in his own language. “No, said I. I saw Sam half smiled, but I said nothing. I got into my buggy and drove up to my neighbor Pulsifer. He lived a mile off and I had a good deal of time to think the matter over. “When I drove up to the house, the man was chopping wood. There were but few sticks of wood, and the house was poor, and my heart softened. ‘Neighbor,’ I called out. Pulsifer looked sulky, and did not lift up his head. ‘Come, come, neighbor,’ said I, ‘I have come with friendly feelings to you, and you must meet me half way.’ He perceived I was in earnest, laid down his ax, and came to the wagon. ‘Now, neighbor,’ said I, ‘we have both been in the wrong. You neglected your fence, and I got angry and sent you a provoking message. Now, let’s both face about, and do right, and feel right. I’ll forgive, and you shall forgive me. Now, let’s shake hands.’ He didn’t quite feel like giving me his hand, but at last he let me take it. “ ‘Now,’ said I, ‘neighbor, drive your sheep down to my south pasture. They shall share with my sheep till next spring; you shall have all the yield, and next summer we’ll start fair.’” “His hand was no longer dead in mine. He gave me a good friendly grasp. The tears came into his eyes, and he said, ‘I guess you are a Christian, ’Squire, after all.’” “That little fracas with my neighbor about the sheep was,” continued William Ladd, “my first step in devoting myself to the cause of Peace.”