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Thou kingly Spirit, throned among the hills,
ON THE VICE OF LYING.
REV. W. GILPIN.
To warn us from lying, we should do well to consider the folly, the meanness, and the wickedness of it.
The folly of lying consists in its defeating its own purpose. A habit of lying is generally detected in the end; and after detection, the liar, instead of deceiving, will not even be believed when he happens to speak the truth. Nay, every single lie is attended with such a variety of circumstances which lead to a detection, that it is often discovered. The use generally made of a lie is to cover a fault; but as this end is seldom answered, we only aggravate what we wish to conceal. In point even of prudence, an honest confession would serve us better.
The meanness of lying arises from the cowardice which it implies. We dare not boldly and nobly speak the truth, but have recourse to low subterfuges; which always show a sordid and disingenuous mind. Hence it is, that in the fashionable world the word liar is always considered as a term of peculiar reproach.
The wickedness of lying consists in its perverting one of the greatest blessings of God, the use of speech, in making that a mischief to mankind which was intended for a benefit. Truth is the greatest bond of society. If one man lies, why may not another? And if there is no mutual trust, there is an end of all intercourse.
An equivocation is nearly related to a lie. It is an intention to deceive under words of a double meaning, or words which, literally speaking, are true; and is equally criminal with the most downright breach of truth. A nod, or sign, may convey a lie as effectually as the most deceitful language.
Under the head of lying may be mentioned a breach of promise. Every engagement, though only of the lightest kind, should be punctually observed: and he who does not think himself bound by such an obligation, has little pretension to the character of an honest
MY OWN FIRE-SIDE.
ALARIC A. WATTS.
A living poet, whose fame needs no panegyric.
LET others seek for empty joys,
At ball or concert, rout or play;
Whilst far from Fashion's idle noise,
"Twixt book and lute the hours divide,
My own fire-side! Those simple words
And fill with tears of joy mine eyes.
A gentle form is near me now;
A small white hand is clasped in mine I gaze upon her placid brow,
And ask, what joys can equal thine: A babe, whose beauty's half divine,
In sleep his mother's eyes doth hide; Where may love seek a fitter shrine Than thou-my own fire-side!
What care I for the sullen war
Of winds without, that ravage earth;
There all is cheerful, calm, and fair;
Thy precincts are a charmed ring,
To thee-my own fire-side!
Shrine of my household duties;
Bright scene of home's unsullied joys;
When Fortune frowns, or Care annoys!
The smile whose truth hath oft been tried ;-
Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet,
AULD ROBIN GRAY.
LADY ANNE BARNARD.
WHEN the sheep are in the fold, when the cows come home,
The woes of my heart fa' in showers fra my ee,
Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and sought me for his bride;
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea:
My father cou'dna work, my mother cou❜dna spin;
My father argued sair-my mother didna speak,
I hadna been his wife, a week but only four,
O sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a';
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin !
THE glorious sun is set in the west; the night dews fall; and the air, which was sultry and oppressive, becomes cool. The flowers of the garden, closing their coloured leaves, fold themselves up and hang their heads on the slender stalk, waiting the return of day.