best constructions upon the words and acts of those who are better known to us? Do we never detect ourselves relating with malicious satisfaction or hearing with equal relish some piece of petty scandal?

Let us never forget that our neighbor's reputation is worth more to him than houses or lands or any other earthly treasure.

Remember that there is nothing more tender than a good name. A shrug of the shoulders, a sidelong glance, a curl of the lip, may wound it "past all surgery.” Always think before you speak, but especially before you speak of your absent neighbor, whose utter defencelessness in your hands should appeal to your pity and your chivalry. You know not how many times you may have thoughtlessly lowered him in some one's esteem for the mere sake of being interesting, spicy, or witty. Ah, how many hearts have been pierced, how many fair fames have been besmirched, for the sake of a paltry witticism! Would you destroy your neighbor's property for sport? Do not that which is worse!

Louisa Thompson. I wonder how many there are among us whose consciences are entirely at ease now. And yet, who can avoid prejudice? It is so natural to judge strangers by some unpleasing expression of face or peculiarity of manner. One of the ladies I love and admire most among my acquaintances I once thought the proudest, the most selfish and unapproachable. The worst of it is that I did not hesitate to speak of her as such among my friends. I shall never forget the day when I made her acquaintance and found how completely I had been deceived. If only I were sure that all I have said of her since had entirely undone the mischief, I should be happy indeed. I bitterly realize that a word once uttered can never be recalled. I say these things publicly, in the hope that they may help towards the reparation I am so anxious to make to one of the sweetest-souled women I ever knew.

Dr. Dix [with feeling]. You may be assured, Miss Thompson, there is no one here who thinks the less of you for the noble words you have just spoken.

Julia Taylor. Dr. Dix, I suppose you would pronounce pure love of gossip to be the greatest of all the destroyers of reputation?

Dr. Dix. Yes; because, though, as I have said, it may be the least malignant in intention, it is undoubtedly the most prevalent. It pervades all classes, from the cultivated readers of the city society journal to the country sewing circle and the frequenters of the notorious corner grocery.

Thomas Dunn. Pardon me if I take exception to your adjective "cultivated."

Dr. Dix. The word, as Artemus Ward would say, 66 was spoke sarkastic." But there are none who lay claim to higher "culture" than some of those to whom I referred. Of course their claim is an utterly false one. Personalities are the favorite food of ignorant and empty minds. Those whose thoughts rise to science, art, literature, history, or matters which pertain to the well-being of their race, their country, their state, their city or town, or even the street on which they live, have no leisure for personal gossip, either of town or country, newspaper or rural store.

One of the subjects proposed for our Talks is the relation between secular study and morals. One point has already been made. Here we may add another : One cannot very easily study algebra or Greek, and blacken his neighbor's character at the same time.

XXV.

GREAT IS TRUTH, AND IT WILL PREVAIL.

Dr. Dix. You have observed that in these Talks on Truth and Truthfulness I have made use of very plain language. As the homely saying is, I have called a spade a spade, and not an agricultural implement. The intentional uttering of an untruth with intent to deceive I have called a lie. I might have used a word which would have fallen more smoothly upon your ears and upon mine, - "misrepresentation," for instance, or "equivocation," "prevarication," "coloring," or "embellishment." Why do these words seem smoother than the little monosyllable which is so obnoxious to people in general, and to the culprit himself in particular? Certainly not on account of their articulate sound. In each of these polysyllables there are harsh consonants, while the little monosyllable contains only a liquid and a vowel sound, the smoothest of all. It is because the little word is so uncompromising in its significance. Italian to the ear, it is blunt Saxon to the comprehension. Like a smooth, round bullet, it goes straight to the mark. Some people profess to regard it as coarse: it is not coarse; it is simply strong and exact. It is unpopular because it represents an ugly thing in its naked ugliness. Ugly things must be spoken of sometimes: we cannot fight our enemies efficiently without facing them. There are lies which are rarely or never called by their true name, lies of look and gesture, even of silence and total inaction.

"I did not speak a word to you that was not strictly true," pleads a clever culprit to the victim of his cun

ningly contrived deception. But that is only another lie. The words themselves were but breath: if their import was intended to be misleading, it matters not if their actual meaning could be sworn to, they told as black a lie as if no mean and cowardly cunning had been used in their construction. But perhaps no word whatever was uttered. Still, it matters not. The tongue is not the only organ of speech we possess: the eyes speak, and the hands; the whole body may be eloquent with the utterance of truth or falsehood. If a stranger asks me his way, and I point with my finger in the wrong direction, have I not lied to him? If only the tongue can commit this sin, then it is only necessary for a man to be born deaf and dumb to be the very Truth incarnate.

George Williams. I think people sometimes tell what is not quite true, not from intentional dishonesty, but from mere carelessness. They do not think it worth while to take the pains necessary to state the exact truth; they think that what they say is near enough to the truth.

Dr. Dix. I want to speak of that notion of "near enough" and "well enough." There is no doubt that among the proverbs which have been abused is the one that tells us that "whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well." If it were always understood to mean exactly what it says, it would be less likely to be abused; but there are some persons who know nothing of adjectives and adverbs but the superlative degree. Many things which are worth doing well are not worth doing in the best possible manner. Nature, with endless time and endless space at her disposal, can afford to aim at perfection in every minute detail of her work; but a man's life is but a span, and he must select. There is such a thing as sacrificing the whole to its most insignificant parts. Chinese pictures are sometimes exhibited as curiosities (they certainly are not

works of art), whose minutest details have been finished with an elaboration appealing equally to our wonder and our pity for the patient toiler, while the general effect may be inferior to that of the caricature on a child's slate.

Joseph Cracklin. Some people study Greek and Latin on the Chinese principle.

Dr. Dix. That stupid blunder has had its day. The classical scholar who makes etymology, syntax, and mechanical prosody an end, rather than a means to the more thorough understanding of classical literature, is an anachronism.

There is far more danger, however, of abuse in the other direction. Things that are worth doing are much more likely not to be done thoroughly enough than too thoroughly. "Well enough" and "near enough" are the greatest obstacles to successful achievement that lie in the way of scholarship or any other department of human effort. They who make these their mottoes are the ones who are surest to fail, and who at best never rise above mediocrity.

We shall soon talk about Industry and Work. What has just been said will then apply as well as now; but we have not yet finished with the great subject of Truth. Whatever else you may be in danger of doing too thoroughly, you can never be too exact in your adherence to the truth. There is no "well enough" here but the very best, no "near enough" but the truth itself.

If you quote an author, do not be satisfied with giving his drift, unless that is all you are pretending to do: give his exact language. By the change of a single word you may unwittingly spoil the force, beauty, and symmetry of the passage you attempt to quote; and you have no more right to slander an author, living or dead, than any other of your fellow-men. A beautiful countenance seen through a twisted pane of glass may be distorted to an ugly caricature. An unskilful por