This, this was the way of the Saviour, His enemies eager to bless: Repaying their evil behaviour With pardon and gift and caress. Like Him on all hate will I trample, And every foe I’ll forgive; And copy His holy example As long as on earth I may live. If my enemy hunger I’ll feed him, If he thirst I will give him to drink; With a smile and a blessing I’ll speed him, Nor leave him in trouble to sink. Here’s my hand and my heart for each comer, Be he stranger or foeman or friend; For love brings a genial summer, A summer that never shall end. Oh, Love is a clever magician, His rod is a conjuror’s wand; Good speed to his heavenly mission, Alike on the sea and the land. He binds human hearts to each other, That hatred and envy may cease, That each may to each be a brother, And the earth be an Eden of peace. In this strain of high philanthropy, Blithe Natty was merrily singing away, when who should darken the smithy door but Black Morris, whom the honest blacksmith had rarely seen since the night when his hasty and wrathful speech anent his daughter, sowed dragons’ teeth, whose painful harvest he had already partly reaped. “Good mornin’, Nathan Blyth; I reckon you are blamin’ me for that gunpowder business?” “Yes, I am,” said Nathan, candidly. “Can you look at my scarred face and say you didn’t do it?” “I did _not_” said Black Morris, with much emphasis; “I never knew of it till my sister Mary told me. Nathan Blyth, believe me, I not only could not do so beastly a thing, but I could and would fell to the ground the man who did.” Nathan had kept his eyes on him, “looking him through and through.” “Morris!” said he, “give me your hand. I believe you didn’t. I am sorry I spoke to you that day as I did. Let bygones be bygones”---- “Nay,” said Black Morris, as his head dropped to his bosom, “I don’t say I haven’t brought you mischief, an’ if you knew all I’d said and done against you, I don’t suppose you would be so free with your hand; but I never was brute enough for that last business, an’ now that you believe it, I’ll bid you good-morning.” “Stop,” said Nathan, “stop a minute. I’ve been singing this morning about love and forgiveness, and I mean to do as I sing. Whatever you’ve done against me or mine, I forgive freely and fully, and now or then, here or yonder, you’ll never hear any more of it from me--give us your hand.” Black Morris stood awhile looking hard at the man he had injured, then holding out his hand, permitted Natty to shake it, and then suddenly and without a word shot through the doorway and disappeared.