William, who had felt drawn toward his brother on account of his kind manner, was hurt at this sudden change in his words and tone.  He was tempted to retort harshly, and even to set his foot more roughly upon the pansies.  But he checked himself, and, turning away, walked slowly from the garden.

Edgar, who had repented of his rude words and unkind manner the moment he had time to think, was very sorry that he had been thrown off his guard, and resolved to be more careful in the future.  And he was more careful.  The next time he spoke to his brother, it was in a kind and gentle manner, and he saw its effect.  Since then, he has been watchful over himself, and now he finds that William is one of the most obliging boys any where to be found.

“So much for kind words, my son,” said his father, on noticing the great change that had taken place.  “Never forget, throughout your whole life, that kind words are far more potent than harsh ones.  I have found them so, and you have already proved the truth of what I say.”

And so will every one who tries them.  Make the experiment, young friends, and you will find it to succeed in every case.

PASSING FOR MORE THAN ONE IS WORTH.

The other day I had occasion to pay a man half a dollar, and gave him a dollar bank note, for which he gave me in exchange two silver pieces that I supposed to be worth twenty-five cents each.  One of the pieces, however, I found afterward would only go for sixteen or seventeen cents.  It was not a quarter of a dollar, though it looked very much like one.  It had passed for some eight or nine cents more than it was worth.  Well, that was an affair of very little consequence, you say.  True enough, but I am going to take hold of something else with this handle, that may be of more consequence.

There are a great many folks in the world who, like this pistareen, pass themselves off, or try to pass themselves off, for more than their real value.  It is bad business, though; and they always feel cheap when they get found out, as they are sure to be in the end.

Did you ever see a dandy under a full press of canvas, as the sailors say, showing himself off on one of the principal streets of a city—­on Broadway, for instance, in New York?  He was trying to pass himself off for more than his worth.  And no doubt he succeeded, too, in some instances.  By the way, do you know what definition Webster gives of a dandy in his large dictionary?  It is worth remembering.  Suppose we turn to it.  “A dandy,” says he, “is one who dresses himself like a doll, and carries his character on his back.”  It is a most capital definition; but the silly fellow will pass for something else where he is not known.  He will make a great swell, and some people will believe he is a gentleman.  Indeed, it would not be strange if he should pass himself off, one of these days, upon some young lady who is quite ignorant of this kind