It is not then to her, but to ourselves, that we mothers have need to look.  We are too often the ones who give way to hysterical tears or to sharp words, or perhaps to unjust criticism, all of which we attribute to nervousness.  Our more frank girl, if affected in the same way, would bluntly acknowledge that she was “as cross as a bear.”  Let us quietly take hold of ourselves and ask ourselves the plain question, “Are we nervous, or cross?” If the latter, we know how to remedy it.  A well person has no right to be so abominably bad-tempered or moody that he cannot keep people from finding it out.  If you are nervous, there is some reason for it.  Perhaps you did not sleep well last night; perhaps you are suffering from dyspepsia; but in any case will-power will do much towards lessening the trouble.  If you are ill, it may cause a struggle greater than your nearest and dearest can imagine to repress the startled ejaculation at the slamming of a door, or the angry exclamation when your bed is jarred.  But you will be better, not worse, physically, for this self-control.  The woman, who, though tortured by nervousness sets her teeth and says, “I will be strong!” stands a better chance of speedy recovery than does she who weakly gives way to hysterical sobs a dozen times a day.  Your nerves should be your servants, and, like all servants, may give you much trouble, but as long as you are mistress of yourself you need not fear them.  Once let them get the control over you, and you are gone.  There is no tyrant more merciless than he who has hitherto been a slave.

May I add one word to those whom we, in exasperation, are apt to call aggressively strong?  If you, yourself, do not know what nervousness is, pity and help the poor sufferer in your family who never knows during day or night what it is to be without what you consider “the fussiness that sets you wild.”  If this mother, or aunt, or sister, does control herself, remember that she is stronger than you, as the man who successfully curbs the fiery steed is more to be commended for courage than he who holds the reins loosely over the back of the safe farm-horse who does not know how to shy, kick, or run.

CHAPTER XI.

THE RULE OF TWO.

One character mentioned in the unique rhyme of Mary and her Little Lamb, has never had due praise and consideration dealt out to him.  The teacher who heartlessly expelled from the temple of learning the unoffending and guileless companion of the innocent maiden who is the heroine of the above-mentioned ditty, was, in spite of his cruelty, a philosopher.  After the exit of the principal actors in the poem, we are told that the following conversation ensued: 

   “What makes the lamb love Mary so?”
     The eager children cry. 
   “Because she loves the lamb, you know,”
     The teacher did reply.

The teacher was wise in his generation.  In his “reply,” lies a world of meaning—­one of the answers to the old question of the reason for personal antipathies and attractions, and may perhaps be said, in this case, to touch upon animal magnetism.