the wisdom of a Bacon; and to listen to them, "not poppy nor mandragora" can be so consummately narcotic.

Flattery, censoriousness, slander, sarcasm, egotism, tittletattle, exaggeration,-dark catalogue! Yet of all these conversational vices, ladies, young and old, have been accused. Flattery sometimes arises from too strong a desire to please, without any baser motive. Compliments are not always wrong; they may come from an affectionate heart, that can with difficulty conceal its sentiments and emotions. When there is not the slightest deviation from truth, and when nothing is sought, or to be gained, they should be given very sparingly-not entirely proscribed.

Flattery implies an intention to deceive, to mislead with regard to appearance or merit, either to gain favour, or to make sport of another's vain credulity. It is a base, a mean and craven spirit, that offers this incense at any shrine. Every lady should have too much self-respect to offer or to receive such incense.

Censoriousness brings so much unpopularity to those who indulge in it, that few are willing to appear so unamiable. But there are some fine ladies who complain

"Folks are so awkward, things so unpolite,

They're elegantly pained from morn till night."

Everything appears to them as distorted as their own faces in a convex mirror. They are careful to suggest to their friends every defect that they detect in disposition and character, and vastly ingenious and quick-sighted in the discovery. The bright side of character has no charms for them. Instead of depicting their acquaintances, as Queen Elizabeth would have her face painted, without shadow, their censoriousness casts every feature into the deepest shade.

It is said of the profound Locke, by his biographer, that "he was at first pretty much disposed to give advice, where he thought it was wanted; but experience of the little effect it had, made him grow more reserved."

But censure of those present is far less malicious than

slander of the absent. False, treacherous, hateful slander, whose wounds no balm can cure! In times gone by, the gentler sex were accused of a strong predilection for that "sweetener to a female feast;" but in days of better education, let us hope that they are not so culpable. God's holy law has protected "our neighbour" from this violation of his rights, and all mankind cry out against him who "filches a good name." Even in the most retired moment, with your tried and faithful friend, beware of whispering one word to injure the reputation of a fellow-being. Condemn vice, by word and deed, and have moral courage to avoid the society of the vicious, whatever be their rank and station. You are partakers in others' sins, if you do not thus openly show detestation of crime. But sully not the reputation of the virtuous by the venomous breath of slander; it will not pass away, like your breath upon the mirror, leaving it bright and pure; it will go out into a world of wickedness, and rest a dark cloud upon their once fair fame. The mischief and suffering which may be occasioned by a few idle words is incalculable; but the character of a busybody, a tattler, or a retailer of scandal, which some women earn for themselves, is, without question, one of the most degrading that can be assigned to any one. The following example of the effects sometimes flowing from the evil speaking of such a busy-body may not, perhaps, be without its value:

"Do not mention it again for your life."

"No, of course not. The least said about such things the better."

"Do not, for the world. I have told you in perfect confidence, and you are the only one to whom I have breathed it. I would not have it get out for any consideration."

"Give yourself no uneasiness. I shall not allude to the subject."

"I merely told you because I knew you were a friend, and would let it go no farther. But would you have thought it?" "I certainly am very much surprised."

K

"So am I. But when things pass before your eyes and ears, there is no gainsaying them."

"No. Seeing is said to be believing.”

"Of course it is."

"But, Mrs. Grimes, are you quite sure that you heard aright?"

"I am positive, Mrs. Raynor. It occurred only an hour ago, and the whole thing is distinctly remembered. I called in to see Mrs. Comegys; and while I was there, the bundle of goods came home. I was present when she opened it, and she showed me the lawn dress it contained. There were twelve yards in it. I must see if there is good measure,' she said, as she measured it off. There were fifteen yards instead of twelve. 6 How is this?' she remarked; 'I am sure I paid for only twelve yards, and here are fifteen.' The measure was applied again. There was no mistake; the lawn measured fifteen yards. with the surplus?' I asked. Comegys; there is just enough to make little Julia a frock. Won't she look sweet in it?' I was so confounded, that I could not say a word. Indeed, I could hardly look her in the face. At first I thought of calling her attention to the dishonesty of the act; but then I reflected that, as it was none of my business, I might get her ill-will for meddling in what did not concern me."

6

What are you going to do 'Keep it, of course,' said Mrs.

"And you really think, then, that she meant to keep the three yards without paying for them?"

"O, certainly! But then I would not say anything about it for the world. I would not name it, on any consideration. Of course you will not repeat it."

"No. If I cannot find any good to tell of my friends, I try to refrain from saying anything evil.”

"A most excellent rule, Mrs. Raynor, and one that I always follow. I never speak evil of my friends, for it always does more harm than good. No one can say that I ever tried to injure another."

"I hope Mrs. Comegys thought better of the matter, upon reflection," said Mrs. Raynor.

"So do I. But I am afraid not. Two or three little things occur to me now, that I have seen in my intercourse with her, which go to satisfy my mind that her moral perceptions are not the best in the world. Mrs. Comegys is a pleasant friend, and much esteemed by every one. It could do no good to spread this matter abroad, but harm."

After repeating over and over again her injunction to Mrs. Raynor not to repeat a word of what she had told her, Mrs. Grimes bade this lady, upon whom she had called, good morning, and went on her way. Ten minutes after, she was in the parlour of an acquaintance, named Mrs. Florence, entertaining her with the gossip she had picked up since their last meeting. She had not been there long, before, lowering her voice, she said, in a confidential way—

"I was at Mrs. Comegys' to-day, and saw something that amazed me beyond everything."

"Indeed!"

"Yes. You will be astonished when you hear it. Suppose you had purchased a dress, and paid for a certain number of yards; and when the dress was sent home, you should find that the shopkeeper had made a mistake, and sent you three or four yards more than you had settled for, what would you do?"

"Send it back, of course."

"Of course, so say I. To act differently would not be honest. Do you think so?"

"It would not be honest for me."

"No, nor for any one. Now, would you have believed it? Mrs. Comegys not only thinks, but acts differently." "You must be mistaken, certainly, Mrs. Grimes." "Seeing is believing, Mrs. Florence."

"So it is said, but I could hardly believe my eyes against Mrs. Comegys' integrity of character. I think I ought to know her well, for we have been very intimate for years."

"And I thought I knew her too. But it seems that I was mistaken."

Mrs. Grimes then repeated the story of the lawn dress.

"Can it be possible?" exclaimed Mrs. Florence. "I can hardly credit it."

66

"It occurred just as I tell you. But, Mrs. Florence, you must not tell it again for the world. I have mentioned it to you in the strictest confidence. But I need hardly say this to you, for I know how discreet you are."

"I shall not mention it."

"It could do no good."

"None in the world."

"Is it not surprising, that a woman who is so well off in the world as Mrs. Comegys, should stoop to a petty act like this?"

"It is, certainly."

"But for your life, Mrs. Florence, do not repeat this!"

"I shall certainly not speak of it, Mrs. Grimes. It is too serious a matter. I wish I had not heard of it, for I can never feel toward Mrs. Comegys as I have done. She is a very pleasant woman, and one with whom I have heretofore always found it agreeable and profitable to spend an hour." "It is a little matter, after all," remarked Mrs. Grimes, "and, perhaps, we treat it too seriously."

"We should never think lightly of dishonest practices, Mrs. Grimes. Whoever is dishonest in little things, will be dishonest in great things, if a good opportunity offer. Mrs. Comegys can never be to me what she has been. That is impossible."

"Of course you will not speak of it again."

"You need have no fear of that."

A few days after, Mrs. Raynor made a call upon a friend, who said to her

"Have you heard about Mrs. Comegys?"

"What about her?"

"I supposed you knew it. I have heard it from half a dozen persons. It is said that Perkins, through a mistake of one of his clerks, sent her home some fifteen or twenty yards of lawn more than she had paid for, and that, instead of sending it back, she kept it, and made it up for her children." "I do not think any honest woman would be guilty of