Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1859-02-03
SPEAK GENTLY TO EACH OTHER.

'PleaSe 10 nelp me minute, SISTER.
10 don't disturb me, Pm reading was
the answer.
But just hold this stick, won't you, while,
I drive this pin throughT
Il can't now, want to finish this story
said I, emphatically; and my little brother
turned away with a disappointed look, in
search of somebody else to assist him.
He was bright boy of ten years, and my
only brother. He had been visiting young
friend, and had seen a windmill, and as
soon as he came home his energies were all
employed in making small one; for he was
always trying to make tops, wheelbarrows,
kites and all sorts of things, such as boys
delight in. He had worked patiently all
the morning with saw and jacknife, and
now it only needed putting together to COM
plete it, and his sister had refused to assist
him, and he had gone away with his young
heart saddened.
thought of all this in fifteen minutes, af-
ter he left me, and my book gave me no
pleasure. It was not Intentional unkind-
ness, only thoughtlessness, for I loved my
brother and was generally kind to him still,
I had refused to help him. would have
gone after him and afforded the assistance
he needed, but 1 knew he had found some
one else. But I had neglected an opportu-
nifty of g1addening a childish heart.
In half an hour he came bounding into
the hous>, exclaiming, Come, Mary, I've
got it,up; lust see how it goes!
His tones were joyous, and saw that he
had forgotten my petulance, so I determined
to atone by unusual kindness. went with
him, and sure enough, on the roof of the
wood house was fastened miniature wind
mill, and the arms were whirling around
fast enough to suit any boy. I praised the
windmill and my little brothers ingenuity,
and he seemed happy and entirely forgetful
of my unkindness, and I resolved, as l had
many times before, to be always loving and
gentle.
A few days passed by, and the shawow of
a great sorrow darkened our dwelling. The
joyous laugh and noisy glee we're hushed,
and our merry little boy lay in darkened
room with anxious faces around him, his
cheeks flushed and his eyes unnaturally
bright. Sometimes his temples would mois-
ten and his muscles relax, and then hope
would come into our hearts, and our eyes
would fill with thankful tears. 1t was in
one of these deceitful calms in his disease
that he heard the noise of his little wheel
and said:
Il hear my windmill
docs it make your head ache? I asked,
Shall we take it DOWN.
sOh no. replied he, it seems as if I were
out of doors, and it makes me feel better
He mused moment, and then added ::
Don't you remember, Mary, that wanted
you to help me fix it, and you was reading,
and told me you could not p But it didn't
make any difference, mamma helped me-
0, how sadly those words fell upon my
ear, and what bitter memories they awaken
ed How I repented as I kissed little
Franks forehead, that I had ever spoken
unkindly to him. Hours of sorrow went by,
and we watched his couch, hope growing
fainter, and anguish deeper, until one week
from the morning on which he spoke of hts
childish sports, we closed the eyes once so
sparkling, and folded his hands over his
pulseless heart. He sleeps now in the grave,
and home is desolate, but the little wind
mill, the work of his busy hands, is still
swinging in the breeze, just where he placed
it, upon the roof of the old wOod-shed; and
every time 1 see the tiny arms revolving l
remember the lost little Frank; and re-
member also the thoughtless and unkind
words
Brothers and sisters be kind to each 9TH
er. Be gentle, considerate, and loving
Examiner.