Dick Damon's Experiment.
By Julia D. Peck
"Joe Ives is the meanest boy in town! I don't ever want anything more to do with him as long as I live! So there!" "Say, Dick, what was that verse you repeated at prayers this morning?" asked Dick's older brother, Ralph, looking up from his book. "It seems to me I'd try to think it up if I were you." Dick flushed painfully as he recalled it:— "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." "Nobody could love Joe Ives," cried Dick, hotly. "I tell you, Ralph, you don't know anything about it. Do you suppose you could love a fellow that run off with your new sled and wouldn't let you have it all recess? That is what Joe did, and when I asked him for it, he only laughed and told me to take it if I could get it. He is so much stouter than I am, he knew I could not do a thing but stand there shivering and see him enjoy himself. It was tough, I tell you; but I'll get even with him in some way, see if I don't!" "If you can't love him, suppose you try to do him good, or at least pray for him," said Ralph, quietly. Poor Dick shook his head. "It can't be done," he said. "He doesn't deserve to have any one do him any good; and as for praying for him, why, he needs that badly enough, but I'm not the one to do it." "No," said Ralph, "there is some one nearer home that needs it first." "It is easy enough for you to forgive folks that treat you mean, I suppose," said Dick; "but it isn't for me, and there's no use trying," and Dick caught up his cap and mittens and ran out of the house. His sled was on the piazza, but he never looked toward it, but hurried down the street as fast as he could. He was trying to run away from an accusing conscience, but of course he could not do it. "Hold on, there! Where are you going to so fast?" called out Howard Graves, behind him. "We boys are going skating out to Whitney Lake. Get your skates and come on." "All right! Wait for me," said Dick, turning back. "It won't take me but a minute to get them." "There's Joe Ives, of course; I just wish he'd stay away," said Howard, when the two boys came in sight of the lake. "He is always on hand, without waiting for an invitation." "Maybe he thinks he can get hold of some of the boys' skates as he did my sled," remarked Dick. "I'm kind of sorry for him," said Howard, "if he is so hateful. They are awful poor, he and his mother. His father was killed last winter trying to save somebody's baby when an old tenement house was burned, and I shouldn't wonder if Joe had some of the same grit in him." "What makes you think so?" asked Dick, growing interested in spite of himself. "Well, the other day I was going down Water Street, and some little rascals had got hold of a stray kitten; they had tied an old teapot to its tail and were snow-balling it, and abusing it the best they knew how. Of course it was frightened almost to death, when just then Joe came along. You ought to have seen the way he went for those boys. They got out of sight in a jiffy, and Joe caught up the poor little kitten, warmed it under his jacket, and carried it off with him as if it was precious as gold." "I've heard he is very kind to his mother, and gives her all the money he earns," acknowledged Dick, "and maybe that is why he never has things like other boys." "Hurry up and put on your skates," said Howard, who was all ready for a start. "Let's have a race down to the big rock." "Oh, you go on," said Dick, "it will take me some time to put on my skates." Joe Ives stood a few yards away with his hands in his pockets, because he had no mittens, watching the skaters as they darted past him. Dick couldn't help noticing how thin and old the coat was, and how he shivered in the chilly air. Somehow the feeling of pity for Joe kept growing stronger in his heart, and of course that crowded out the ugly thoughts he had been cherishing. "I just wonder if 'twould make any difference if we boys should treat him kind of decent, and show him we didn't all hate him," said Dick to himself. "I declare I believe I'll try it. It can't do any harm, any way." He turned about suddenly, and running up to Joe, said, as he held out his skates,— "Put them on, Joe, and see if you can't beat Howard in a race. You can skate twice as fast as I can, and I want to see you try it; nobody else can keep up with him." Joe gave him a look of blank astonishment. "O you're just a fooling," he said, incredulously, "you wouldn't let me take 'em for sure." "I shouldn't say so if I didn't mean it," said Dick. "I want to have you take them; I do truly." Joe looked at Dick curiously for a moment, and then put on the skates without a word, and was soon gliding over the smooth ice, the swiftest skater of them all. Once or twice he skated around to where Dick stood whistling, and begged him to take the skates, but Dick persistently refused. He was very sure he was enjoying himself as well as any of the gay company. There was now a strange feeling in Joe's heart which he could not understand, as he took off the skates at last and returned them to the owner. "I say, Dick, what made you do it?" he asked in a tone very unlike his usual one. "Oh," said Dick, carelessly, "I can skate any time. I don't have much else to do out of school hours. You can take them as well as not when I'm not using them." "I'd just like to know what you did it for," asked Joe again. "I haven't ever done anything but treat you mean. I knew the fellows all hated me, and it made me ugly. Say, don't you hate me, Dick Damon, don't you, true?" "No, I don't, not now," said Dick, and he was glad he could say it truthfully. "You wouldn't want to be my friend, now, would you?" and Joe looked anxiously into Dick's face. "Of course I would, and so would Howard. He was saying to-day that you had good grit. I never thought before how we boys have treated you. I guess we've been more to blame than you. But I'll stand by you after this, Joe. We'll help each other." "Oh, my!" said Joe, "if you only will, you'll never be ashamed of my actions after this. You just see if I don't turn around, and begin again. I didn't know before how nice it felt to have somebody like you, but then you see I hain't ever had any friends." "Ralph was right, after all," said Dick to himself. "I've tried to do Joe good, poor fellow, and now I can pray for him."—Julia D. Peck, in Christian at Work.