thinking, in early life, generally lead to prudence of conduct In its following stages; while, on the other hand, the flagrant imprudence of mature age, is, for the most part, to be traced to the wrong bias or false impressions received in the juvenile period.

One of the many important branches of prudence, is carefully to avoid incurring enmities, as far as can be done consistently with uprightness of character and a good conscience. For seldom does one unnecessarily make an enemy of his fellow-creature but he finds cause to regret it afterwards; and as seldom has one had reason to be sorry that he has used the soft answer which turneth away wrath.

CHAP. XXXII.

Of Truth-speaking, as denoting courage.

"Dare to be true; nothing can need a lie;

The fault that needs it most, grows two thereby."

IT requires no inconsiderable degree of courage always to speak the truth. And hence, in the 14th and 15th centuries, commonly termed the age of chivalry, the two points of honor, in the male sex, were Valor and Veracity; particularly a steadfast adherence to plighted faith, or one's word and promise; lying, or falsehood, being considered as indicative of cowardice, and abhorred rather for its meanness than for its moral turpitude. Accordingly, the chivalrous knights, whilst little regarding any other part of the second table of the holy decalogue, and least of all the sixth, seventh and tenth commandments, would suffer any pains and penalties in preference to the imputation of word-breaking, lying, or prevarication. In the old Romance, Amadis de Gaul, king Lisuarte being reduced to the dire alternative of breaking his word, or delivering up his daughter into the hands of an utter stranger: he is represented as exclaiming, "My daughter must fare as God hath appointed; but my word shall never be wilfully broken."

The age of chivalry is long since past; but some of its relics have floated down the stream of time, and are visible even at the present instant. In some of the high circles of fashion, as well among descendants of Europeans in other countries, as in Europe itself, Valor and Veracity are considered not merely as indispensable requisites of a gentleman, but as almost the only points of honor that are necessary to his character. A man may be a blasphemer of God and religion, a notorious profligate, a seducer of female virtue; he may be all this, and yet rank high as a gentleman: he may be all this, and yet be received into what fashion calls good company, with as cordial welcome as if his character were pure as the driven snow. But if he lie under the imputation of direct cowardice, or of the indirect cowardice of uttering a wilful falsehood, he is despised, banished, and proscribed, as unfit for the company of ladies and gentlemen. For which reason, a man of this sort of high fashion, when charged directly or by implication, of being a coward, or a liar, finds his chivalrous spirit roused up, to the highest pitch. Call him a foe to God, a debauchee, a violator of the connubial ties, and he is able to laugh it off; for it does not touch his honor: but call him a coward, or a liar, and he thinks nothing but your blood can wash away the stain.

But apart from the notions of chivalry, the vice of lying ranks among the meanest of vices. It is the vice of slaves. It is the vice that chiefly abounds among nations in political slavery, and with that low and wretched class of our fellow beings who are in personal bɔndage. Slavish fear prompts them to prevaricate and lie, as it were, in self-defence. Nor is this the less mean for its becoming an attribute of freemen. Its meanness as well as its guilt, is increased by this circumstance; since, in the last case there is far less urgency of temptation, and a far clearer knowledge of duty. Assuredly, with people possessing freedom, and enjoying the light of christianity, a strict regard to truth should be considered as a cardinal point in character, and every species of wilful falsehood be held in utmost disgrace; nor merely in disgrace for its meanness, but in abhorrence for its moral turpitude.

Though, as I observed before, it requires courage to speak the truth at all times, and under all circumstances, yet this sort of courage is of no difficult attainment in the school of christian morals. And, as to the rest, speaking the truth is one of the easiest things in the world: for it is merely the expression of one's own perceptions, or of what lies clearly in his memory. The veriest child that has attained the use of the organs of speech, is capable of, this;-while to speak falsehood requires effort and art. Falsehood is fiction, and needs invention and contrivance, so to frame and fashion it as to make it bear the semblance of truth. As he that dances upon a rope is not a moment at his ease, but must constantly employ effort to keep his balance, even so it fares with a liar. His mind is ever on the alert to escape detection. And after all, the very expedients he uses for this end, often produce the consequences which he wishes to avoid. He proceeds, with cunning art, to cover one lie with another, till at last, the cover being too narrow or too thin, the whole series is clearly seen through.

I will remark further, that lying, even in its simplest and most inoffensive forms, is by no means free of all mischief. Confidence is the cement, or rather the main pillar of society. Without it friendship is but a name, and social intercourse a sort of war in disguise. And as falseness of speech, in any shape or degree whatever, has a tendency to destroy or weaken social confidence, so it tends, of course, to unhinge society. From this, as well as from the more solemn and more awful view of the subject, it clearly follows that nothing is of greater necessity in the moral education of children, than to learn them betimes to pay a strict regard to truth.

In conclusion, I will just throw out the hint, that by an imprudent habit of expressing themselves hyperbol ically, some incur a foul imputation which does not really belong to them. Another hint may be given without the least hazard: one who endeavors to bolster up his sayings with profane oathis or asseverations, is sure to be suspected of falsehood, whether he speaks the truth

or not.

732588

CHAP. XXXIII.

Of vulgarity.

THERE are but few words in our language that have a more grating sound in the ears of those who lay claim to good breeding, than the word Vulgarity, insomuch that many a one had rather be thought vicious than vulgar. And what is vulgarity? This is rather a puzzling question: for the word is no where clearly defined, nor is it capable of being exactly marked out by a definition. Grossness of language and clownishness of manners are only parts of vulgarity, which extends itself to almost innumerable particulars of human conduct, and not unfrequently into the fashionable ranks of society. But though it is in a manner undefinable, it is capable of being clearly explained; and this may be the better done by contrasting it with a quality, which every body of any decency of mind and character, professes to hold in respect.

Vulgarity, then, is the direct opposite of Courteousness. But here, again, arises a question, What is courteousness? Your dictionary will tell you it implies something elegant-something beyond the reach of plain men and women. But so it is not. When St. Paul, addressing himself to christians of all worldly grades and classes, even down to menial servants; when addressing himself to the lowest as well as to the highest, he bade them be courteous, assuredly he did not mean that they must all be of elegant manners. No: it is full likely that Paul himself did not excel greatly in that particular: it was not, surely, the elegance of his manner that made Felix tremble. Courteousness must mean, therefore, a something which is within the reach of all sorts of people; and in its primary and best sense, it may be understood to mean exactly such a behaviour as spontaneously springs from a heart warm with benevolence-while on the contrary, vulgarity, as respects people of some rank in life, is the growth of cold selfishness always, and often of selfishness and narrowness of intellect combined. Vulgarity, in some

shape or other, betrays itself as clearly at the top, as at the bottom of the scale of life.

Cardinal de Retz, remarks of Cardinal Richlieu, a most puissant prime minister of France, that "he loved to rally others, but could not bear to be rallied himself.” So, also, it is said of the Great Frederick of Prussia, that his manner was to harrow up the feelings of his courtiers and attendants by breaking his cutting jokes upon them without measure or mercy; well knowing that they durst not offer any retort. These two instances clearly show that vulgarity may be found in the palace, as well as in the cottage. The like may be frequently seen among the little great; many of whom take a delight in wounding the feelings of those below them, merely because they are below them: a detestable fault, which sudden wealth, or sudden consequence of any kind, is peculiarly apt to draw after it. I say, a detestable fault, because nothing scarcely betrays a more reprobate heart, than an unfeeling, brutal conduct toward inferiors; as it usually springs from the odious compound of arrogance, vanity, and cowardice.

We have no more right, wantonly or causelessly, to wound the mind than to wound the body of a fellow being; and, in many instances, the former is the more cruel of the two.

Some persons, even in the blessed deed of giving alms to the needy, poison the gift by an ungracious manner, accompanying it with a sour look, or peradventure, with a bitter taunt. One of the wisest of the ancients noticed this species of vulgarity, and reproved it with the sound words following: "My son, blemish not thy good deeds, neither use uncomfortable words when thou givest any thing."

There are some again, both men and women, who value themselves highly upon a coarse bluntness, which they themselves call downright honesty and plain-dealing."We can't flatter, not we-we must speak truth— if they will take it-so-if not-we're plain."*

But hark'e! not so fast. Pause a moment, and examine your own hearts, and perchance you may find

* Shakespeare.