The Telegraph

A LESSON FOR QUARREL-SOME PEOPLE.

(A story from Miss Edgeworth.)

M. Le Motte, a gentleman of great celebrity in Paris, incurred the displeasure of a furious polemic. He was assailed by him with all that malice could invent, or credulity swallow. M. La Motte was silent.

He was questioned. He smiled and made some trivial, but good-natured remark.

He was again attacked--He preserved in his system. Again--He remained at his ease--At last the outraged fanatic driven to extremities, published his last, with this imposing title "A REPLY TO THE SILENCE OF M. LA MOTTE!"

A more homely anecdote is met with in the annals of Williamsburg---but it may have the more effect, from being nearer home.-- Two old women were accustomed to sell fruit in the streets of the ancient metropolis: one was a very Xantippe in her disposition, and her gall was still more excited
by the spirit of competition and old rivalry. "Two of a trade, (they say) can never agree."

Certain it is that one of these fruiterers would never agree with the other; who was a good sort of creature enough, unless when her rival provoked her resentment; and then, a tremendous war of words was sure to take place between them. The virago, however, was too much for her neighbor who was at last not only driven from her best stand for fruit, but was absolutely silenced by the impetuosity of her assailant. Returning one evening home in very low spirits, she met with a friend to whom she communicated her grievances, who told her that the remedy was a very plain one, if she had only temper enough to adopt it. "All you have to do, is to take a pair of tongs with you, and use them instead of your own tongue." The dejected dame had very little confidence in the prescription, but in absolute despair determined to try it. Accordingly the next morning she appeared upon the field, armed as she had been advised.

Her appearance was the signal of hostilities--and the virago set upon her with her accustomed violence. At length the torrent was exhausted;--but no reply! her antagonist came and concluded the long harangue with a snap, snap of the tongs. The shrew still more enraged, broke out with fresh passion-but no other answer than a continued snap of the tongs. Losing all sort of patience from the mortification of not being able to provoke a reply, and driven to the utmost extremity of passion she at length put her arms a-kimbo and exclaimed with the deepest chagrin "Speak--speak you b---h you, or I shall burst."

The tongs alone replied; this was too much: driven by vexation. she abandoned the field to her calmer antagonist.--And from that moment, her temper was curbed: and this new mode of warfare was recommended by its success to all future combatants.

Anger, in fact, is not only ridiculous, but like Jealousy "it makes the meat it feeds on."

Recrimination only provokes a higher degree of passion--and sometimes the best way to abate it, is to let it run its own course until it runs out. Silence is frequently more eloquent and conclusive than the "very tempest and whirlwind of passion."