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ON SPEAKING THE TRUTH.

THE obligations and advantages of speaking the truth are so great and obvious, that we may appear to some of our readers to be at a loss for subjects, when we select one upon which so much has been said, and the importance of which no one is bold or wicked enough to deny. But it is not the knowledge alone of what is right, that is sufficient for man, whose evil propensities urge him on to crime, although he may, at the same time, see and acknowledge the beauty and importance of virtue. Other sanctions and other incitements are required to make man choose the good and refuse the evil, than a mere speculative knowledge of their essential differences. “I see and approve of what is right, while I follow what is wrong," was the sentiment of a candid heathen; and St. Paul himself sadly confesses, "that the good that he would do he did not, while the evil which he would not, he did." But it is not the knowledge of evil that will alone make men shun it; they must have motives of practical and personal weight to sway them to any good purpose. For these reasons we choose to say something upon the important subject of speaking the truth, hoping that we may bring forward such motives and such excitements to a performance of this great duty, as will satisfy our readers of its practical and infinite importance to their present and eternal welfare. No man who falsifies will, it is to be hoped, defend the practice; but if he consider these three things, that an habitual liar is sure to ruin himself in this world, bad as it is, and gentle as it is to many kinds of vice; that he will place himself in a state of perpetual disquietude and fear, long before that ruin is consummated; and that he will, as a climax of sorrow, be shut out from the presence of God for ever;— when he seriously satisfies himself, as he may do, that these consequences will assuredly pursue the liar, he must be mad indeed if such conviction does not reclaim him. these disastrous consequences merely imaginary ? sure to follow a convicted liar? We will examine these points. Society is bound together by a confidence in the mutual truth of its various members: there is scarcely a single trans

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action between man and man, a single hour in the day, in which we are not obliged to rely upon the truth of another; no information hardly as to the past, nothing that respects the present, or involves the future-in a word, no event in life, of which we have not personal experience or cognizance, is free from this necessary reliance on the veracity of others. In many cases, no farther proof of the truth than the word of the relator can be had: in almost every case, the business of life does not admit of any thing but trusting in another's assertions. Society, therefore, could not hold together, were men every where liars: truth, to a great extent, is absolutely necessary to its existence ; and therefore, upon selfish principles, the habitual liar finds himself virtually excommunicated, dreaded, despised, and avoided by those very people, who can pardon or tolerate crimes which do not so closely affect their own interest. The world may be said to unite in proscribing him, and his ruin is therefore certain. But in proportion to the suspicions which prevail on this point, will the contempt and exclusion spread. The liar, therefore, is constantly harassed by fears of discovery, which will be attended with such disastrous consequences; nor can the most ingenious tissue of falsehood save him. A thousand circumstances which he can foresee, and ten thousand which he cannot, may break the thread, and then his character is gone for ever; for the mischief to such a man is, that one discovery taints the whole of his conduct with suspicion. Long, therefore, before the liar's temporal ruin is complete, fear and anxiety have begun their work of sorrow in his heart; but are ruin and disgrace, sorrow and shame—all the evils which the despiser of truth has to dread? How differently does the language of divine and eternal truth speak!—it speaks of the liar as of a child of the evil one; as one against whom the gates of heaven are to be eternally closed; as one who is to have his portion in that lake whose fires are unquenchable. These are its denunciations of punishment and vengeance; and are these things to be lightly regarded, when it is considered whether truth shall be adhered to? the lover of falsehood ask himself this question, "What is a man profited, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" And then, were the advantages of lying even as great and as certain, as unquestionably and invariably the disadvantages and

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disgrace are proved to be, still he would regard such transient advantages with a just horror, and pray earnestly to be aided in his endeavours to resemble that pure and holy Being, one of whose brightest attributes is truth.

PROTESTANT INTEGRITY.

GENERAL GILLY was one of the victims of the re-action in the south of France, in the year 1815. Born in the department of the Gard, he, though himself a Catholic, was so well acquainted with the philanthropic sentiments of the Protestants of those parts, that when persecuted, and a price was set upon his head, he felt no hesitation to seek an asylum with one of them: a peasant at Toberarque, in the canton of Anduse, named Perrier, who subsisted entirely by daily labour, received him into his cottage. No one inquired the name of the fugitive; the events of the times having accustomed these people to the sight of persons suffering persecution, and meeting protection. It was agreed that the general should disguise himself, and assume the character of Perrier's cousin. In this manner he passed several months at Toberarque, not without anxiety indeed, since the armed patroles frequently and unexpectedly appeared, and strictly searched the houses, especially of the Protestants. In such cases, Gilly slipped away, often in the middle of the night, perhaps only half dressed, and hid himself in the fields or woods, till the unwelcome visitors had withdrawn. The general felt most severely the unpleasantness of his situation, of which he occasionally complained bitterly. This might probably have been the case one day, when honest Perrier had returned from the small town of Anduse. "You have little reason to complain," observed Perrier, to comfort his guest," in comparison with the poor people on whose heads I have heard a price set by the public crier, as on any other marketable commodity; you may think yourself fortunate. Two thousand four hundred francs are offered for parson Brière's; two thousand four hundred for that of the late mayor of Bresse; and ten thousand for General Gilly's." "How!" cried the astonished general. "Yes, ten thousand," repeated Perrier. The feelings of the fugitive may be better conceived than described: he strove to suppress them,

and lest he should betray himself to his honest host, of whom he entertained a slight mistrust, he seemed to consider some time. He then addressed him in these words: "I am tired of this kind of life, and am determined to put an end to it. Hark you, my friend, you are poor, and can have no objection to earn money: I know General Gilly, and the place where he is concealed, we will denounce him-I demand my liberty for my reward, and you shall have the ten thousand francs."

At these words old Perrier was petrified; he was unable to reply. His son, a young man of twenty-seven, who had served in the 47th regiment of the line, and who had sat by the fire without taking any part in the conversation, now sprang up, advanced close to the general, and, in a menacing tone-" Sir," said he, 66 we have hitherto taken you for an honourable man; but if you are one of those execrable informers, who plunge their fellow-creatures into destruction, there is the door, hasten away by it, or by Heaven I will throw you out of the window !" Gilly hesitated to go, and attempted to explain himself, but to no purpose; the soldier seized him, and to avoid the impending danger, he exclaimed, " Know then that I am General Gilly, for whom the ten thousand francs are offered!"

The tumult of joy that now pervaded the humble family baffles description: father, mother, children, thronged round him, caressing him and kissing his clothes: they implored him to remain with them, promising to sacrifice their lives in his defence. The general actually stayed with them a considerable time longer; and when he quitted them, he could not prevail upon them to accept any remuneration for their hospitality; their fidelity it was impossible to repay. It was not till long subsequent to this event, that he was allowed to make a substantial expression of his grateful feelings, for the disinterested services of this worthy family.

ON THE IDOLATRY AND PAGANISM OF THE HINDOOS.

THE abject condition of these people, who previously to the existence of the British dominion, were ruled by their own chiefs or rajahs, whose oppression, cruelty, injustice, and coercion

were degrading, has thus far changed for milder masters and better governments; yet up to the present time, although the labours of the English have been incessant, and often eminently philanthropical, yet they have been beset by so many difficulties and discouragements, that their work, instead of being progressive, seems almost stationary, and no results have accrued but those of a mortifying and distressing nature.

It may be reasonably asked, how it happens that so little advance has been made up to the present day, towards civilization, and the reformation of their moral and social system, both political and religious. On this question, we must refer to the evidence of Mr. Mills, a gentleman well qualified to account for these matters, who says, "The utter impracticability, without the aid of the people themselves, and the most strenuous and honest endeavours made by government and its servants to better the condition of these people, are neutralized by their vice, ignorance, and superstition, and by their epidemical and universal proneness to falsehood and perjury." There is no axiom more selfevident than that which designates truth as the great bond of society; mankind must trust one another, says Paley, "and they have nothing they can better trust to than each other's oath." When this security is wanting, the legislator builds upon a quicksand, and the reformer gropes in the dark. On examining the reports, and the charges delivered by the justices of the king's courts at each of the three presidencies, they bear one melancholy burden-"no dependence can be placed upon native evidence ;” for wherever gain is to be acquired, a friend to be served, or an enemy to be injured by false testimony, they feel no compunction, but would mutually accuse each other of the most heinous crimes, and support the accusation with the most barefaced perjuries. And on the deposition of an Englishman who was examined on a particular charge, it was proved that false witnesses to any amount in the interior of the country, can be procured at two shillings a head! As to moral restraint, there is absolutely none; on the contrary, he who could practise iniquity most plausibly, was held to be the greatest philosopher, and every rank and station were alike fraudulent and corrupt; some slight respect was however félt for the military oath, but no other obligation was proof against the slightest temptation.