to punish him, for he had not even sent his army against Ammon till Hanun had collected the great host against him, and as soon as the Ammonites, deserted by their auxiliaries, had retired within their walls, the army of David had not pressed them, but gone quietly back to Jerusalem. What then ought Hanun to have done? Of course, he should now have sent his apology, and said how wrongly he had acted, how ashamed of himself he was, and how desirous he was to have the past forgotten. But no, having done wrong once, his pride would not let him acknowledge it, and he went on. He now engaged Hadarezar, King of the Syrians, and this time there was a great battle, and David slew of the Syrians seven hundred chariots, and forty thousand horsemen, and smote the captain of their host, so that he was left dead on the field, and all the Syrians who could escape ran away for their lives. Then Hadarezer had had quite enough of fighting against Israel, and he made peace with David, and "So the Syrians feared to help the children of Ammon any more." Now the Ammonites were left completely without auxiliaries. What chance was there for them? Still David did not press them. A whole year passed, and he made no move. He was waiting for an apology. But no. That headstrong Hanun was still too proud to make it. He would die with all his people rather than say he had done wrong. So, at the end of a year, David sent his army against the Ammonites, and destroyed them utterly. He killed Hanun, and took away his crown, and plundered his capital town, and ruined all his cities. That was the end of one practical joke unapologised for.

II. In the Gospel for to-day, our Lord warns against the same hard-headedness in persisting in refusing an apology, and to make up friendship that has been broken. "Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing." He urges Christians when they have done an injury to any, frankly to confess it, to put their pride in their pocket, and to ask forgiveness. It is not an easy thing to do, to acknowledge that you have done wrong, but there is more true courage in doing so, than in persevering in spite of the consequences, in wrong doing. Many a lasting and miserable quarrel has arisen because at the outset one little word has not been said, which would have made all things smooth. Two families become estranged and bitterly hostile, because some one has reported to the mother in one, that the mother in the other had made a disparaging remark about her. A little word, and all would be explained, and set to rights. "Let not the sun go down on your wrath," says the Apostle, and an excellent piece of advice this is:—Make up all quarrels the same day that they break out.

There was a good old bishop of Alexandria called John the Almsgiver, and he and the Governor of the city were great friends. Something occurred which made a breach between them. If I remember aright, it was this. The bishop was very charitable, and was always urging the rich people to give to the poor, and they were constantly sending him money to distribute among the sick and needy. Now at this time the Governor had experienced some difficulty in raising the taxes, and this ruffled his temper. He was on a visit to the Bishop, when he saw on the stairs a number of servants of a rich lady bringing up, as a present to the bishop some pots, labelled "Virgin Honey." The Governor said he did not believe they were pots of honey, but pots of gold, and when the bishop offered to open them and let him see for himself, he dashed out of the door in a rage, and said, "No wonder I can't get money in taxes when you swindle it out of the people, to feed the beggars on honey." When the Governor was gone, the old Bishop was very troubled, and he sat in his room all the rest of the day, waiting for the Governor to come and make it up with him. But no! the Governor was fuming with anger and would do no such thing. That evening the Governor had a party, and as he was sitting at table with the guests, a little scrap of paper was put on his plate, a servant of the Bishop had brought it. The Governor took it up and saw, "Dear old Friend—THE SUN IS SETTING." Then his heart relented, he excused himself to his guests, and ran to the house of the Bishop, and they fell into one another's arms and made friends again.

CONCLUSION.—Now remember this story. Whenever you have a quarrel with another, let not the sun go down on your wrath. Make it up before set of sun.