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will surely tell at last, if it serves her purpose, the most injurious and deliberate falsehood.

Now, however the world may join in with the laugh, however willingly the idle may listen, and the thoughtless applaud, such a character is not esteemed. The gay and the giddy may seek them when they would be amused, but friendship takes them not to her bosom : feeling holds no communion with them: sorrow asks of them no comfort: wisdom takes with them no counsel: candour, simplicity, and good sense, shrink instinctively from their touch. However brilliant, and however entertaining, however innocent even in intention, the person whose words are habitually not true, is lowered in the scale of moral creatures-their opinions have very little weight; their testimony is but little regarded, and their sincerity but rarely trusted; even though they were never yet guilty of a mischievous deception. But we must look higher than this. There is One above us, who Himself is Truth, and to whom all that is not, must be hateful. He has promised to bring into judgment every idle word, and has already passed sentence upon the guilt of "whosoever loveth and maketh a lie." Surely they are dangerous weapons these for us to make sport with With the utmost caution which we may use, we shall not escape the condemnation, should He be extreme to mark our words. There is so much deception in our hearts, that we rarely even know the truth exactly; and there is so much temptation to disguise, or discolour it, that perhaps scarcely a day goes by us in which we are not betrayed into some evasion. The weed is too surely indigenous to the soil, and every hour that we spare to check its growth, we spare an enemy that will spoil the beauty of our garden. The best, and the sweetest, and the purest,

in moral loveliness, will be attainted by its unhallowed touch.

Early let us go to our garden, and look if the small germ be there; and every morning return to see if it be coming up. And mark well the manner of its growth. It does not come at once, a bold and mischievous falsehood. Being in society, we hear something that hurts or offends us; desiring that another should share our indignation or redress our wrong, we add to it, perhaps, no more but an aggravative tone. It is but wounded feeling, or just abhorrence of sin. True-but it is falsehood. Walking by the way-side, we meet objects of distress; anxious to interest others for their sake, we exaggerate the picture of suffering, or conceal its alleviation. Our motive is but benevolence. True-but it is falsehood. We have been witness to some incident, or listened to some recital: a very little embellishment will make it highly marvellous, and excite interest or afford amusement; no one can be harmed by it. True-but it is still falsehood. Well, the weed is fair and green: shall we let it grow on another day? We have committed some fault-if we confess it, we shame ourselves for ever, and sink in the esteem of those we love. A falsehood for this time will conceal it, and we will do the wrong no more. True-but another sin, and probably a greater, is added to the first, and He who knows all is left out of the account.

Being innocent, it may be we have been wronged, or we have been the unwilling occasion of wrong; by a falsehood, mischief may be prevented: with no other defence in our power, we may surely prevent crime, and secure ourselves from injury. But this is no more than to choose to ourselves the culprit's part, and being innocent, voluntarily to claim

guilt on our behalf. It is better to suffer innocent, than guilty to escape. We are perhaps, brought unawares into a situation in which, if the truth be not denied, we shall seem unkind, ungrateful, insincere. We know that we are not so, though appearances are against us ; falsehood may seem here but the servant of truth-we use it only to prevent mistake. Methinks our fatal weed is growing now apace. That which at first seemed the handmaid of generous feeling, hath passed over to the service of self-not yet, it is true, to serve any evil propensity, or indulge any culpable desire. It seems but a fair background to set off our flowers; but let it not grow on.

Hard service, truly, has that propensity which once is enlisted to wait on the selfish interest of man. Envy, jealousy, and emulation, anger, resentment, and revenge, ambition, vanity, and pride; all these make a part of human selfishness, and claim to be served in their turn. The weapon is in a hand well practised to its use. When better feeling predominates, the use of it seems to be for good. But when passion surprises us, can the_well-practised hand forbear the ready weapon? Envy can, by a word of falsehood, bear down its proud superior; emulation can, by a falsehood, pass over the head of its rival; revenge can sate itself; anger can safely spend itself, in falsehood: pride, and vanity, and ambition, may be served by it. And thus we have the weed full grown. We may use it oftener or more seldom, as the temptation arises, or as passion impels; but that we shall use it when occasion urges, is not doubtful. And who now can tell the deformity of the weed we have spared? It may misrepresent the most pure intention; it may blight the fairest character; it may attaint the holiest mind; bring VOL. I. E

ridicule on the most sacred truths; betray the most generous trust destroy all confidence and honest intercourse in society; and provoke and insult that High, Holy, and Omniscient Being, whom nothing can deceive, and who will bear with no deception. Faintly we have sketched the mischiefs, and faintly described the manner of the growth. We have given some examples, but they are a few among a thousand. We warn you of the danger of the first departure from truth; of the playful brandishing of so dangerous a weapon. Thus much, at least, must be acknowledged-falsehood is sin-sin can never be a trifle or a jest..

FEARS.

The butler desired me, with a very grave face, not to venture my self in that place after sunset, for that one of the footmen had been almost frightened out of his wits by a spirit that appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without a head-to which he added, that about a month ago, one of the maids coming home late that way with a pail of milk upon her head, heard such a rustling in the bushes that she let it fall.

ADDISON.

Ir was my misfortune once to visit a family of people, very excellent, and very amiable, and for any thing I desire to say to the contrary, very wise in things of moment. Besides the mother, there were several young people of different ages, reaching from infancy almost to womanhood, all happy, and all obliging-except when they happened to be assailed with what they were pleased to call fear: but as fear has always respect to danger, fancied, real, or possible, I should prefer to find some other name for it, because I can prove that it existed where danger was not possible, nor even by themselves apprehended. What influence these attacks had upon their own happiness it is hard to judge, because some people seem to find their enjoyment in the miseries they create for themselves: but they made woful inroads on the enjoyments of others; and for compliance, good humour, and good breeding, poor chance, indeed, had they to stand against the influence of these vehement emotions.

Though the hour was late, I had scarcely laid

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