he deserve, but that of" the fool, who scatters firebrands, arrows, and death, and says, Am I not in sport?"

The consequences of this crime, whatever be the inducement to commit it, are equally pernicious. He that attacks the reputation of another invades the most valuable part of his property, and perhaps the only part which he can call his own. Calumny can take away what is out of the reach of tyranny and usurpation, and what may enable the sufferer to repair the injuries received from the hand of oppression. The persecutions of power may injure the fortune of a good man; but those of calumny must complete his ruin.

Nothing can so much obstruct the progress of virtue, as the defamation of those that excel in it: for praise is one motive, even in the best minds, to superior and distinguishing degrees of goodness; and, therefore, he that reduces all men to the same state of infamy, at least deprives them of one rewardwhich is due to merit, and takes away one incitement to it. But the effect does not terminate here. Calumny destroys that influence, and power of example, which operates much more forcibly upon the minds of men than the solemnity of laws or the fear of punishment. Our natural and real power is very small; and it is by the ascendant which he has gained, and the esteem in which he is held, that any man is able to govern others, to maintain order in society, or to perform any important service to mankind, to which the united endeavours of numbers are required. This ascendant, which, when conferred upon bad men by superiority of riches or hereditary honour, is frequently made

use of to corrupt and deprave the world, to justify debauchery, and shelter villainy, might be employed, if it were to be obtained only by desert, to the noblest purposes. It might discountenance vanity and folly; it might make the fashion cooperate with the laws, and reform those upon whom reason and conviction have no force.

-Calumny differs from most other injuries in this dreadful circumstance-he who commits it never can repair it. A false report may spread where a recantation never reaches; and an accusation must certainly fly faster than a defence while the greater part of mankind are base and wicked. The effects of a false report cannot be determined or circumscribed. It may check a hero in his attempts for the promotion of the happiness of his country, or a saint in his endeavours for the propagation of truth.

Since, therefore, this sin is so destructive to mankind, and, by consequence, so detestable in the sight of God, it is necessary that we inquire,

Thirdly, What reflections may best enable us to avoid it.

The way to avoid effects is to avoid the causes. Whoever, therefore, would not be tempted "to bear false witness," must endeavour to suppress those passions which may incite him to it. Let the envious man consider, that, by detracting from the character of others, he in reality adds nothing to his own; and the malicious man, that nothing is more inconsistent with every law of God, and institution of men, than implacability and revenge.

If men would spend more time in examining

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their own lives, and inspecting their own characters, they would have less leisure, and less inclination, to remark with severity upon others. They would easily discover that it will not be for their advantage to exasperate their neighbour, and that a scandalous falsehood may be easily revenged by a reproachful truth.

It was determined by our blessed Saviour, in a case of open and uncontested guilt, that "he who was without fault" should "cast the first stone." This seems intended to teach us compassion even to the failings of bad men; and certainly that religion which extends so much indulgence to the bad, as to restrain us from the utmost rigour of punishment, cannot be doubted to require that the good should be exempted from calumny and reproach.

Let it be always remembered, that charity is the height of religious excellence; and that it is one of the characteristics of this virtue, that "it thinketh no ill of others!"

Nay, you do wrong and defraud, and that your brethren.

To subdue passion and regulate desire is the great task of man, as a moral agent; a task, for which natural reason, however assisted and enforced by human laws, has been found insufficient, and which cannot be performed but by the help of religion.

The passions are divided by moralists into irascible and concupiscible; the passions of resentment, and the passions of desire. The danger of the irascible passions, the mischiefs of anger, envy, and revenge, every man knows, by evil which he has felt, or evil which he has perpetrated. In their lower degrees, they produce brutality, outrage, contumely, and calumny; and, when they are in. flamed to the utmost, have too often risen to violence and bloodshed.

Of these passions the mischief is sometimes great, but not very frequent; for we are taught to watch and oppose them from our earliest years. Their malignity is universally known, and as universally dreaded. The occasions that can raise them high do not often occur; and when they

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are raised, if there be no immediate opportunity of gratifying them, they yield to reason and persuasion, or subside by the soothing influence of time.

Of the irascible passions, the direct aim and present purpose, is the hurt or misery of another; of the concupiscible passions the proper motive is our own good. It is, therefore, no reproach to human nature that the concupiscible passions are more prevalent; for, as it is more natural, it is more just, to desire our own good than another's evil.

The desire of happiness is inseparable from a rational being, acquainted, by experience, with the various gradations of pain and pleasure. The knowledge of different degrees of happiness seems necessary to the excitement of desire, and the stimulation of activity. He that never felt pain would not fear it, nor use any precaution to prevent it. He who had been always equally at ease, would not know that his condition admitted any improvement, and therefore could have no end to pursue or purpose to prosecute. But man, in his present state, knowing of how much good he is capable, and to how many evils he is exposed, has his mind perpetually employed, in defence or in acquisition; in securing that which he has, or in attaining that which he believes he either does or shall want.

He that desires happiness must necessarily desire the means of happiness, must wish to appropriate, and accumulate, whatever may satisfy his desires. It is not sufficient to be without want: he will try to place himself beyond the fear of want; and endeavour to provide future gratifications for future