In reproving and fault-finding, we have beautiful examples in Holy Writ. When Saint Paul has a reproof to administer to delinquent Christians, how does he temper it with gentleness and praise! how does he first make honorable note of all the good there is to be spoken of! how does he give assurance of his prayers and love!--and when at last the arrow flies, it goes all the straighter to the mark for this carefulness. But there was a greater, a purer, a lovelier than Paul, who made His home on earth with twelve plain men, ignorant, prejudiced, slow to learn,--and who to the very day of His death were still contending on a point which He had repeatedly explained, and troubling His last earthly hours with the old contest, “Who should be greatest.” When all else failed, on His knees before them as their servant, tenderly performing for love the office of a slave, he said, “If I, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another’s feet.” When parents, employers, and masters learn to reprove in this spirit, reproofs will be more effective than they now are. It was by the exercise of this spirit that Fénelon transformed the proud, petulant, irritable, selfish Duke of Burgundy, making him humble, gentle, tolerant of others, and severe only to himself: it was he who had for his motto, that “Perfection alone can bear with imperfection.” But apart from the fault-finding which has a definite aim, how much is there that does not profess or intend or try to do anything more than give vent to an irritated state of feeling! The nettle stings us, and we toss it with both hands at our neighbor; the fire burns us, and we throw coals and hot ashes at all and sundry of those about us. There is _fretfulness_, a mizzling, drizzling rain of discomforting remark; there is _grumbling_, a northeast storm that never clears; there is _scolding_, the thunder-storm with lightning and hail. All these are worse than useless; they are positive _sins_, by whomsoever indulged,--sins as great and real as many that are shuddered at in polite society. All these are for the most part but the venting on our fellow-beings of morbid feelings resulting from dyspepsia, overtaxed nerves, or general ill health. A minister eats too much mince-pie, goes to his weekly lecture, and, seeing only half a dozen people there, proceeds to grumble at those half-dozen for the sins of such as stay away. “The Church is cold, there is no interest in religion,” and so on: a simple outpouring of the blues.