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THE HOME CIRCLE

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Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Mar 14, 1878

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 4, No. 11.

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THE HOME CIRCLE.

By T. S. Arthur

A Quarrelsome Neighbor.

"THAT man will be the death of me yet," said Paul Levering. He looked worried out, not angry.
"Thee means Dick Hardy?"
"Yes."
"What has he been doing to thee now?" asked the questioner, a friend, named Isaac Martin, a neighbor.
"He's always doing something, friend Martin. Scarcely a day passes that I don't have complaint of him. Yesterday one of the boys came and told me he saw him throw a stone at my new Durham cow, and strike her on the head."
"That's very bad, friend Levering. Does thee know why he did this? Was thy Durham trespassing on his grounds?"
"No, she was only looking over the fence. He has a spite against me and mine, and does all he can to injure me. You know the fine Bartlett pear that stands in the corner of my lot adjoining his property?"
"Yes."
"Two large limbs full of fruit hung over on his side. You would hardly believe it, but it is true; I was out there just now, and discovered that he had sawed off those two fine limbs that hung over on his side. They lay down upon the ground and his pigs were eating the fruit."
"Why is Dick so spiteful to thee, friend Levering? He doesn't annoy me. What has thee done to him?"
"Nothing of any consequence."
"Thee must have done something. Try and remember."
"I know what first put him out, I kicked an ugly old dog of his once. The beast, half-starved at home, I suppose, was all the time prowling about here, and snatched up everything that came in his way. One day I came upon him suddenly, and gave him a tremendous kick that sent him howling through the gate. Unfortunately, as it turned out, the dog's master happened to be passing along the road. The way he swore at me was dreadful. I never saw a more vindictive face. The next morning a splendid Newfoundland, that I had raised from a pup, met me shivering at the door, with his tail cut off. I don't know when I have felt so badly. Poor fellow! his piteous looks haunt me now; I had no proof against Dick, but have never doubted as to his agency in the matter. In my grief and indignation I shot the dog and so put him out of sight."
"Thee was hasty in that, friend Levering," said the Quaker.
"Perhaps I was, though I have never regretted the act. I met Dick a few days afterwards. The grin of satisfaction on his face I accepted as an acknowledgement of his mean and cruel revenge. Within a week from that time one of my cows had a horn knocked off."
"What did thee do?"
"I went to Dick Hardy, and gave him a piece of my mind."
"That is, thee scolded and called him hard names, and threatened."
"Yes; just so, friend Martin."
"Did any good come of it?"
"About as much good as though I had whistled to the wind."
"How has it been since?"
"No change for the better; it grows, if anything, worse and worse. Dick never gets weary of annoying me."
"Has thee ever tried the law with him, friend Levering? The law should protect thee."
"Oh, yes, I've tried the law. Once he ran his heavy wagon against my carriage purposely, and upset me in the road. I made a narrow escape with my life. The carriage was so badly broken that it cost me fifty dollars for repairs. A neighbor saw the whole thing and said it was plainly intended by Dick. So I sent him the carriage-maker's bill, at which he got into a towering passion. Then I threatened him with a prosecution, and he laughed in my face malignantly. I felt the time had come to act decisively, and I sued him, relying on the evidence of my neighbor. He was afraid of Dick, and so worked his testimony that the jury saw only an accident instead of a purpose to injure. After that Dick Hardy was worse than ever. He took an evil delight in annoying and injuring me. I am satisfied that in more than one instance he left gaps in his fences in order to entice my cattle into his fields that he might set his dogs on them, and hurt them with stones. It is more than a child of mine dares, to cross his premises. Only last week he tried to put his dog on my little Florence, who had strayed into one of his fields after buttercups. The dog was less cruel than the master or she would have been torn by his teeth, instead of only frightened by his bark."
"It's a hard case, truly, friend Levering. Our neighbor Hardy seems possessed of an evil spirit."
"The spirit of the devil," was answered with feeling.
"He's thy enemy, assuredly; and if thee does not get rid of him he will do thee great harm. Thee must if thee would dwell in safety, friend Levering."
The Quaker's face was growing very serious. He spoke in a lowered voice, and bent towards his neighbor in a confidential manner.
"Thee must put him out of the way."
"Friend Martin!" the surprise of Paul was unfeigned.
"Thee must kill him."
The countenance of Levering grew black with astonishment.
"Kill him!" he ejaculated.
"If thee does not kill him he'll certainly kill thee, one of these days, friend Levering. And thee knows what is said about self-preservation being the first law of nature."
"And get hung!"
"I don't think they'll hang thee," coolly returned the Quaker. "Thee can go over to his place and get him all alone by thyself. Or thee can meet him on some by-road. Nobody need see thee, and when he's dead, I think people will be more glad than sorry."
"Do you think I'm no better than a murderer; I, Paul Levering, stain my hands with blood!"
"Who said anything about staining thy hands with blood?" said the Quaker, mildly.
"Why, you!"
"Thee's mistaken, I never used the word blood."
"But you meant it. You suggested murder."
"No, friend Levering, I advised thee to kill thy enemy, lest some day he shall kill thee."
"Isn't killing murder, I should like to know?" demanded Levering.
"There are more ways than one to kill an enemy," said the Quaker. "I've killed a good many in my time, and no stain of blood can be found on my garments. My way of killing enemies is to make them friends. Kill neighbor Hardy with kindness, and thee'll have no more trouble with him."
A sudden light gleamed over Mr. Levering's face, as if a cloud had passed. "A new way to kill people."
"The surest way to kill enemies, as thee'll find, if thee'll only try."
"Let me see. How shall we go about it?" said Paul Levering, taken at once with the idea.
"If thee has the will, friend Levering, it will not be long before thee will find the way."
And so it proved. Not two hours afterward as Mr. Levering was driving into the village, he found Dick Hardy with a stalled cart-load of stone. He was whipping his horse and swearing at him passionately, but to no purpose. The cart wheels were buried half way to the axles in stiff mud, and defied the strength of one horse to move them. On seeing Mr. Levering, Dick stopped pulling and swearing, and getting on the cart, commenced pitching the stones off on the side of the road.
"Hold on a bit, friend Hardy," said Levering, in a pleasant voice, as he dismounted and unhitched his horse. But Dick pretended not to hear, and kept on pitching off the stones. "Hold on, I say, and don't give yourself all that trouble," added Mr. Levering, speaking in a louder voice, but in a kind and cheering tone. "Two horses are better than one. With Charlie's help, we'll soon have the wheels on solid ground again."
Understanding now what was meant, Dick's hands fell almost nerveless by his side. "There," said Levering, as he put his horse in front of Dick's and made the traces fast. "One pull and the thing is done." Before Dick could get down from the cart it was out of the mud hole, and without saying a word more, Levering unfastened his horse from the front of Dick's animal and hitching up again rode on.
On the next day Mr. Levering saw Dick Hardy in the act of strengthening a bit of weak fence through which Levering's cattle had broken once or twice, thus removing temptation, and saving the cattle from being beaten and set on by dogs.
"Thee's given him a bad wound, friend Levering," said the Quaker, on getting information of the two incidents just mentioned, "and it will be thy own fault if thee does not kill him."
Not long afterwards, in the face of an approaching storm, and while Dick Hardy was hurrying to get in some clover hay, his wagon broke down. Mr. Levering, who saw from one of his fields the incident, and understood what its loss might occasion, hitched up his team, and sent his own wagon over to Dick's assistance. With a storm coming on that might last for days and ruin from two to three tons of hay, Dick could not decline the offer, though it went against the grain to accept a favor from the man he had hated for years, and injured in so many ways.
On the following morning Mr. Levering had a visit from Dick Hardy. It was raining fast. "I've come," said Dick, stammering and confused, and looking down on the ground instead of into Mr. Levering's face, "to pay you for the use of your team yesterday, in getting in my hay. I should have lost it if you hadn't sent your wagon, and it is only right I should pay you for the use of it."
"I should be very sorry," answered Paul Levering, cheerfully, "if I couldn't do a neighborly turn without pay. You are quite welcome, friend Hardy, to the wagon. I am more than paid by knowing that you saved that nice field of clover. How much did you get?"
"About three tons. But Mr. Levering, I must"—
"Not a word, if you don't want to offend me," interrupted Levering. "I trust there isn't a man around here that wouldn't do as much for a neighbor in time of need. Still, if you feel embarrassed—if you don't wish to stand my debtor, pay me in good will."
Dick Hardy raised his eyes slowly, and looking in a strange wondering way at Mr. Levering, said: "Shall we not be friends?" Mr. Levering reached out his hand. Hardy grasped it with a quick, short grip, and then, as if to hide his feelings that were becoming too strong, dropped it, and went off hastily.
"Thee's killed him!" said the Quaker, on his next meeting with Levering; "thy enemy is dead!"
"Slain by kindness," answered Paul Levering, "which you supplied."
"No thee took it from God's armory, where all men may equip themselves without charge, and become invincible," replied the Quaker. "And I trust for thy peace and safety, thee will never use any other weapons in fighting with thy neighbors. They are sure to kill."—T. S. Arthur.