"Well, then, here it is. The next time you design to bring a
trunk down-stairs, you would better cut away the underpinning,
and knock out the beams, and let the garret down into the
cellar. It will make less uproar, and not take so much to
repair damages."

He intended to be severe. His words passed by me as the idle
wind. I perched on my trunk, took a pasteboard box-cover and
fanned myself. I was very warm. Halicarnassus sat down on the
lowest stair and remained silent several minutes, expecting a
meek explanation, but not getting it, swallowed a bountiful
piece of what is called in homely talk, "humble-pie," and
said,--

"I should like to know what's in the wind now."

I make it a principle always to resent an insult and to welcome
repentance with equal alacrity. If people thrust out their
horns at me wantonly, they very soon run against a stone-wall;
but the moment they show signs of contrition, I soften. It is
the best way. Don't insist that people shall grovel at your
feet before you accept their apology. That is not magnanimous.
Let mercy temper justice. It is a hard thing at best for human
nature to go down into the Valley of Humiliation; and although,
when circumstances arise which make it the only fit place for
a person, I insist upon his going, still no sooner does he
actually begin the descent than my sense of justice is appeased,
my natural sweetness of disposition resumes sway, and I trip
along by his side chatting as gaily as if I did not perceive