and a story which is true. Thus also his family are reduced to want; and see their hopes of support, education, usefulness, and comfort finally destroyed.

Had I, with the prudence and benevolence which Christianity inspires, confined this secret within my own breast, the industry of my neighbour, his skill in business, his integrity, and the credit which he had merited and gained by these qualifications, would have enabled him to continue in trade without interruption; and probably to acquire all the necessary means of comfort and prosperity for himself and his family. These blessings I have prevented; and am chargeable with the prevention. I have not, indeed, told a falsehood; but I have done mischief which is incalculable, and which a falsehood in the case supposed could not have done.

Why have I done this mischief? There was no necessity that my neighbour should be injured, that his failings should be published, that his character should be lowered, that his misfortunes should be announced to the world, that the peace of his family should be wounded, their enjoyments cut off, and their hopes blasted in the bud. In all this there is no profit to me, nor to mankind; nor, unless I am possessed of the spirit of a fiend, can there be any pleasure.

It is evident therefore, beyond debate, that he who tells a mischievous story, and that he who by declaring his belief of a mischievous story told by others lends it the credit and sanction of his own authority, are essentially and alike guilty of slander. In the conduct specified both also are without excuse.

So long as persons of reputation will either repeat the false stories of others, invented for the purpose of lowering or destroying character, or will publish maliguant truths concerning others, the peace, the good name, and the comfort of mankind will be invaded and destroyed.

2. Slander may be practised without inventing or repeating malignant stories, whether true or false.

(1.) This may be done by listening to the slanderous stories of others.

He who listens to a story of this nature without expressing his disapprobation, declares by his conduct, the strongest of all attestations, that he considers it as meriting his attention, and in some degree his belief. This belief, and even this attention, from persons of respectability, will give the slander

a weight and currency which it could never have derived from the inventor. Those who see us listen in this manner will conclude of course, that the slander in our view has foundation and importance. Hence they will be induced both to believe and to report what, otherwise, they would have disregarded.

The inventor of slander derives all his consequence and all his encouragement from the countenance lent to him by others. But to believe is to countenance him: to listen is to countenance him. By listening to him therefore we give life and activity to his mischievous fabrications; and lend them most of their power to do hurt. Besides, by doing this we keep the spirit of slander alive in his breast; and make him feel secure of the consequence which he hopes to gain by this course of conduct; the consequence which is his principal motive to sin. In this manner, we contribute to the existence of future slanders, and, in a manner possessed of no contemptible efficacy, aid the diffusion of calumny through the world. This nuisance to society, this pest to mankind, we sustain, cherish, and send abroad, to destroy the peace of those around How plainly is he who acts in this manner a nuisance to his fellow-men?

us.

Both reason and Revelation, both common sense and common good nature, demand, on the contrary, that whenever our neighbour's character is attacked, we should appear openly in his defence. In very few ways can we so often or so greatly befriend others, as by supporting their good name; and in very few cases will our kindness be so deeply or so gratefully felt. The person thus attacked is absent of course, and cannot therefore defend himself. If we do not defend him, he is left naked to the attack, and to all its malignant consequences. Our silence cannot but injure him seriously. It may be the means of his ruin. Who would not wish, in such a case, to have his own character defended? Who then is not bound to defend that of another? Were this great law of righteousness duly felt, were its injunctions, as they respect the case under consideration faithfully obeyed, what a horde of busy bodies, tale-bearers, and calumniators would be broken down! What an endless multitude of base and snaky efforts against the peace of society, and the comfort of families, would in this way be crushed at once!

(2.) If our silence, when tales of slander are reported, is thus injurious to others; the declaration, that we believe them, is still more criminal.

A multitude of persons not only suffer slander to pass without censure or opposition, but readily believe it; and without hesitation declare this belief. If they do not repeat it to others, their consciences appear to be satisfied. Even when they give it no credit, they suffer others quietly to repeat it, not only without animadversion, but without even hinting their disbelief. Through a company of such persons a calumny rolls on without an impediment; without a single generous effort to check its progress. On the contrary, it fares like a spy in a venal, mercenary army, whom none will detect, and whose escape all will favour, because all are hollow-hearted and false. If it is attended with evidence moderately plausible, they declare their belief of it, and thus help it onward to the belief of others. If it be supported by no evidence whatever, they will not declare their disbelief of it; thus suffering it to proceed without interruption, and to gain credit wherever it may.

There is in the human breast a strong propensity to censoriousness. We need no instruction to teach us, that our fellow-men are by every censure which adheres to them lowered beneath their customary level. Nor do we discern with less readiness, that whatever sinks those around us, raises comparatively ourselves. With this self-exaltation, despicable as are the means by which it is achieved, we, whenever we become the authors of it, are despicable enough to be gratified: and the gratification, base and contemptible as it is, is still eagerly sought, and highly enjoyed, by many such minds as are found in the present world.

When these persons hear the characters of others aspersed, they hear it with pleasure; and with pleasure believe the aspersion. Their faith here is not given to evidence; it does not wait for evidence. If evidence be furnished, indeed, it is so much the better, because it is expected to command the faith of others also. But no evidence is necessary to insure the faith of these persons. The tale pleases, because it involves the degradation of a neighbour, a rival, a superior, or some other object of jealousy. It is believed, because they wish it to be true. Still, many such persons are too cautious to rehearse it again; and with their avoidance of this additional injury, their cold, heartless consciences are satisfied.

III. The evils of slander are either personal, or public. 1. The personal evils of slander, by which I intend the sufferings experienced from it by individuals, are the pain felt, and the injuries derived, from the loss of a good name.

A good name is the estimation in which we are holden by others, on account of our good qualities, and our good conduct. Such a name is declared by God himself to be better than precious ointment,' Eccles. vii. 1. And in Proverbs xxii. 1, • A good name is' said to be better than great riches; and loving-favour, that is, the favourable emotions, exercised towards such as possess a good name, better than silver and gold.' Silver and gold, particularly when possessed in such accumulations as constitute great riches,' are, proverbially, the supreme objects which this world furnishes of human desires. As such, they are customarily used, as objects of comparison, to illustrate the value of things eminently preci

ous.

Thus, in the Scriptures themselves we are informed, that the law of the Lord is more to be chosen than the most fine gold.' Thus also Job says of the wisdom which is the obedience of that law, that it cannot be gotten for gold; neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.'

Precious ointment,' as intended by a Jewish writer, probably denotes that which was used to anoint the high priest, and the kings of the Jewish nation. The materials of which it was composed are well known to have been pre-eminently costly and valuable, far more so than the most fine gold. In this point of view, precious ointment was, in the mouth of an Israelite, perhaps the strongest conceivable illustration of the value of a good name. At the same time, this unguent, being composed of the richest and most elegant aromatic substances, diffused extensively the most delightful fragrance, wherever it was employed. With reference to this fine character, the psalmist adopts it as a charming illustration of one of the most charming objects, ever seen in the present world. 'Behold,' he exclaims, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head of Aaron, that went down to the skirts of his garment; as the dew of Hermon, that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.' A more exquisite illustration of the delightful impression made by a fair character could not be given.

Such a character is of inestimable value to the possessor, if considered merely as a source of enjoyment. The esteem of our fellow men is probably regarded by the great body of mankind, as standing in the list of enjoyments next to selfapprobation. Common sense, as well as the Scriptures, pronounces 'loving favour to be better than silver and gold.' The opinion of wise and good men may be considered, in all ordinary cases, as the best criterion of worth on this side of the grave; and their good-will, which always accompanies their esteem, as the richest possession which does not descend immediately from heaven. Even in that happy world, the uninterrupted and intense complacency of its glorious inhabitants will, after the favour of God and the peace of a self-approving mind, constitute the prime ingredient of eternal joy.

In the world of misery, on the contrary, all the inhabitants, being destitute of all good character in the eyes of each other, will be the subjects of perpetual shame, and the objects of mutual and everlasting contempt. These ingredients of suffering, so terrible even in the present world, will there become the means of inexpressible woe. They will be despised by themselves; they will be despised by each other; they will be objects of abhorrence to God, and to the whole virtuous universe. The anguish inflicted by this engine of torture so completely in that melancholy world, is often excruciating in this. In how many instances has the consciousness of contempt, even from a single person, driven its miserable victim to suicide!

Nor is a good name less indispensable to the attainment of confidence, and of all the blessings, by which confidence is followed. If we are unpossessed of a fair character, no one will confide in us. Without confidence, beside losing the serene and high enjoyment which it communicates, we shall be prevented from all useful employment, and from all the benefits which would flow from such employment to ourselves, and through us to others.

A fair character is also essential to personal usefulness. A

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