nguage the query is put, it is the most valuable ba

oman's mouth was two-edged, and had a sharp point. The

e proclaimed; she had had unusual opportunities of seeing behind the scenes of political intrigue, and she had improved them. When the last chapter was written she carried the MS. into her husband's study at dusk one evening, and began to read it aloud to him. She finished it at two o'cloc

, true, dramatic. It will sell well. It wi

her to her room, and her brain tossed upon them as upon thor

he says. "What I had written in a semi-frenzy of patriotism would have been hot pin

a breakwater, and save more than one soul from sorrow, perhaps from destruction. In the everyday life

us knowledge of the weakness of sinful mortals when he affirmed that the tongue was an unruly member, for it is easier to perform a herculean feat, to strain physical strength and muscle to the utmost, than to bite back the sharp retort, or repress the acrid reply. And there is such a hopelessness in the sentence once uttered! It is gone from us forever. We may regret it and show our repentance in speech and action, but we cannot bl

bitter wo

hou be str

ies no bac

aces, wan

f self-defence, in gentle submission, sometimes requires a struggle like life and death

give that woman a piece of my mind!" or, "I shall some time have t

an angry speech of yours will turn a man from a course of which you do not approve. It will make him hate you, perhaps, but it will not change him. It is not o

kind thing say nothing." In the course of a long and varied experience I may have known half-a-dozen such. But what man has done, man may do again. What is the baneful spirit which tempts the gentlest of us to take more pleasure in calling attention to a fault than to a virtue

shington Irving says "that a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use," and with many people the unrul

rs he criticises unmercifully, employing in his condemnation a ready wit and fluent speech that might be used in a nobler purpose. Such a reputation as he holds for all uncharitableness is not an enviable one, and one wond

s true as the stars that if a person brings you an unsavory tale of a friend, she will carry away as ugly a story of you, if she can find the faintest suggestion upon which to found it. The gossip acquires a detective-like faculty for following out a clue, but unfortunately, the clue is oftener purely imag

tor is a friend, and a trusted friend, whose sympathy is genuine and whose discretion is vast, there is a comfort beyond description in unburdening one's soul. But there is a line to be drawn even here. It is not deceit to keep your private affairs to yourself when you are sure that you are guilty of no

ve discovered that while I have often been sorry for things which I h

n, she may have some nearer and dearer one to whom she "tells everything," even the secrets of her friends. Or, you may in time learn to be ashamed of the confidence which you have

stakes? If your husband or son tells several people that he met John Smith last week in New York, and you know that he was in that city three weeks ago

eek in January, and you went to Ne

ry, and change some minor detail, she will love

his"-and then proceed with the tale

ccasion to change his mind. Perhaps some years ago when you first met your now dear friend, you thought her manner affected, and did not hesitate to mention the fact to your family. Since then you have become so well acquainted wi

ou remember you once said that you considered her

s not murder assume the gu

There is no sin or weakness in changing one's mind. It is a thing which all of us-if we except a few victims to pig-headed prejudice-do daily. And, as a rule, we hate