ing to a mistake :-pshaw ! no: it was owing to my fault, that you did not receive a £50 note by the post yesterday"-" £50!" cried the poor man, wringing his hands, "why that would have more than paid all we owed; and I could have gone on with my business, and our lives would not have been risked, nor I disgraced!" Freeland now turned away, unable to say a word more; but recovering himself, he again drew near them; and throwing his purse to the agitated speaker, said "there! get well only get well! and whatever you want shall be yours! or shall never lose this horrible choking again while I live !"

Freeland took a walk after this scene, and with hasty, rapid strides; the painful choking being his companion very often during the course of it, for he was haunted by the image of those whom he had disgraced ;-and he could not help remembering that however blameable his negligence might be, it was nothing, either in sinfulness or mischief, to the lie told to conceal it; and that, but for that LIE OF FEAR, the effects of his negligence might have been repaired in time.

But he was resolved that he would not leave Somerstown till he had seen these poor people settled in a good lodging. He therefore hired a conveyance for them, and superintended their removal that evening to apartments full of every necessary comfort. "My good friends," said he, "I cannot recall the mortification and disgrace which you have endured through my fault; but I trust that you will have gained, in the end, by leaving a cruel landlord, who had no pity for your unmerited poverty. Lady Leslie's note will, I trust, reach you to-morrow ;-but if not, I will make up the loss; therefore be easy! and when I go away, may I have the comfort of knowing that your removal has done you no harm!"

He then, but not till then, had courage to write to Lady Leslie, and tell her the whole truth; concluding his letter thus:

"If your interesting protégés have not suffered in their health, I shall not regret what has happened; because I trust that it will be a lesson to me through life, and teach me never to tell even the most apparently trivial white

lie again. How important this violation of truth appeared to me at the moment! and how sufficiently motived! as it was to avoid falling in your estimation; but it was, you see, overruled for evil;-and agony of mind, disgrace, and perhaps risk of life, were the consequences of it to innocent individuals;--not to mention my own pangs; --the pangs of an upbraiding conscience. But forgive me, my dear Lady Leslie. However, I trust that this evil, so deeply repented of will be blessed to us all; but it will be long before I forgive myself."

Lady Leslie was delighted with this candid letter, though grieved by its painful details, while she viewed with approbation the amends which her young friend had made, and his modest disregard of his own exertions.

The note arrived in safety; and Freeland left the afflicted couple better in health, and quite happy in mind ;--as his bounty and Lady Leslie's had left them nothing to desire in a pecuniary point of view.

When Lady Leslie and he met, she praised his virtue, while she blamed his fault; and they fortified each other in the wise and moral resolution, never to violate truth again, even on the slightest occasion; as a lie, when told however unimportant it may at the time appear, is like an arrow shot over a house, whose course in unseen, and may be unintentionally the cause, to some one, of agony or death.

CHAPTER V.

LIES FALSELY CALLED LIES OF BENEVOLENCE.

THESE are lies which are occasioned by a selfish dread of losing favour, and provoking displeasure, by speaking the truth, rather than by real benevolence Persons, call

ing themselves benevolent, withhold disagreeable truths, and utter agreeable falsehoods, from a wish to give pleasure, or to avoid giving pain. If you say that you are lookng ill, they tell you that you are looking well. If you express a fear that you are growing corpulent, they say you are only just as fat as you ought to be. If you are hoarse in singing, and painfully conscious of it, they declare that they did not perceive it. And this not from the desire of flattering you, or from the malignant one of wishing to render you ridiculous, by imposing on your dredulity, but from the desire of making you pleased with yourself. In short they lay it down as a rule, that you must never scruple to sacrifice the truth, when the alternative is giving the slightest pain or mortification to any one.

I shall leave my readers to decide whether the lies of fear or of benevolence preponderate, in the following trifling, characteristic anecdote.

A TALE OF POTTED SPRATS.

MOST mistressess of families have a family receipt-book and are apt to believe that no receipts are so good as their

own.

With one of these notable ladies a young housekeeper went to pass a few days, both at her town and countryhouse. The hostess was skilled, not only in culinary lore, but in economy; and was in the habit of sitting on het table, even when not alone, whatever her taste or carefulness had led her to pot, pickle, or preserve, for occasional

use.

Before a meagre family dinner was quite over, a dish of POTTED SPRATS was set before the lady of the house, who, expatiating on their excellence, derived from a famly receipt of a century old, pressed her still unsatisfied uest to partake of them.

The dish was as good as much salt and a little spice could make it; but it had one peculiarity;-it had a strong flavour of garlick, and to garlick the poor guest had a great dislike.

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But she was a timid woman; and good-breeding, and what she called benevolence, said, "persevere a swallow," though her palate said, "no." "Is it not excellent?" said the hostess." Very;" faultered out the half-suffocated guest;-and this was lie the first. "Did you ever eat any thing like it before ?"-" Never," replied the other more firmly; for then she knew that she spoke the truth, and longing to add, "and I hope I ne er shall eat any thing like it again."—"I will give you the receipt," said the lady, kindly; "it will be of use to you as a young housekeeper; for it is economical, as well as good,and serves to make out, when we have a scrap-dinner. My servants often dine on it."-"I wonder you can get any servants to live with you," thought the guest; "but I dare say you do not get any one to stay long!" You do not, however, eat as if you liked it."" Oh yes, indeed, I do, very much," (lie the second) she replied; "but you forget I

have aiready eaten a good dinner :" (lie the third. Alas! what had benevolence, so called, to answer for on this occasion!)

"Well, I am delighted to find that you like my sprats," said the flattered hostess, while the cloth was removing; adding, "John! do not let those sprats be eaten in the kitchen!" an order which the guest heard with indescribable alarm.

The next day they were to set off for the country-house, or cottage. When they were seated in the carriage, a large box was put in, and the guest fancied she smelt garlick; but

She therefore asked no questions; but tried to enjoy the present, regardless of the future. At a certain distance they stopped to bait the horses. There the guest expected that they should get out and take some refreshment; but her economical companion, with a shrewd wink of the eye, observed, "I always sit in the carriage on these occasions. If one gets out, the people at the inn expect one to order a luncheon. I therefore take mine with me.' So saying, Jolin was summoned to drag the carriage out of sight of the inn windows. He then unpacked the box, took out of it knives and forks, plates, &c., and also a jar, which, impregnating the air with its effluvia, even before it was opened, disclosed to the alarmed guest that its contents were the dreaded sprats!

"Alas!" thought she, "Pandora's box was nothing to this! for in that, Hope remained behind; but, at the botton of this, is Despair!" In vain did the unhappy lady declare (lie the fourth) that "she had no appetite, and (lie the fifth) that she never ate in the morning." Her hostess would take no denial. However, she contrived to get a piece of sprat down, enveloped in bread; and the rest she threw out of the window, when her companion was looking another way-who, on turning round, exclaimed, “so, you have soon despatched the fish! let me give you anoth er; do not refuse, because you think they are nearly finish