If practical jokers could suffer a little of the pain they are so fond of giving, it might cure them of their bad habit. Says a gentleman, speaking of the retributive justice which cured him:— I got one punishment when a boy that I never forgot. When about ten years old, I fancied I had a grudge against a lad of my own age, but much smaller. Catching him alone one morning, I dragged him to the big watering-trough, and gave him a thorough dousing in the icy water. While he was spluttering and trying to escape, my father came upon the scene. A moment's silence—then—"Go into the house, Dan," was all that father said. I obeyed with a quaking heart. The morning passed, and yet I was not called to account. Afternoon and evening dragged by, bed-time came, and still not a word was said. It wasn't exactly a pleasant day to me. I had ample time to think it over and realize the meanness of my act. I retired with an uneasy mind; it wasn't like father to pass such a thing unnoticed. Could he have forgotten it? Could it be possible that for some unknown reasons he was, to use a boy's phrase, "winking at it"? I was puzzled. The next morning the mystery was solved. As I entered the breakfast-room father met me, and taking my hand silently, led me out to the trough, where I underwent exactly such treatment as I'd given Jim. The following day another "hair of the dog" was administered. On the third morning I tried to starve it out, and by going without breakfast get rid of the ducking. All in vain! Though, when the bell rang I kept in my room, I soon heard father calling in a tone I dared not disobey:— For one week I was put through that watering-trough every morning! Father did not weaken the lesson by "words, idle words." And I guess he was right, for I did some thinking during those days. That experience stuck by me and altered my course many a time in later life.—Herald and Presbyter.