with us to eternity, to hold celestial converse in the presence of God, and speak forth forever the praises of his love. Of such a power it would scarcely seem necessary to urge the importance, did it not appear on observation that nobody regards it; nobody lays it to heart that God has said, "Every idle word will I bring into judgment." When I say nobody, I limit my meaning to the compass within which all my listenings are made, and the sphere in which I suppose my remarks to circulate. I particularly desire it should be considered that I write for a certain class, and that I hear nothing and say nothing, and design not to censure or expose anything, that lies beyond this compass. I write for youth, or for that early womanhood on which numbers of my readers are perhaps just about to enter; or for those of older years who have an immediate influence on these. I would be understood to speak especially of them, however generally I may seem to express myself. If any will take the hint for whom it is not intended, and profit by it, I shall be gratified; yet I would still deprecate the feelings of those who may fancy themselves attacked, when they are not understood to be upon the field.

In speaking of the misuse, or at best the waste, habitually made of our conversational powers, I have in mind exclusively the domestic circle, the hometalk of the family, or the communications of intimacy. In company, as generally so called, it seldom rests with the young female to give the tone to the conversation; she may be accessory to its frivolity, or a sharer in its usefulness, and will be surely responsible for her own words; because she might speak better or be silent, and others' wrong will not excuse us; but it is not there that responsibility is quite her own; neither is it there that the evil is

the greatest. We speak well for shame before men, while we care not for conscience how we speak before God.

When my attention had been called to this subject, I determined to listen for one day to the habitual conversation, or talk, or speech, whichever is the better word, of a family circle of very cultivated and religious young people; and to my own, as that day a member of the circle. If I had written on a tablet every word that was spoken, from the first intonation of voices giving notice to those in bed that somebody is up, to the prolonged gossip of the chamber at midnight-including the contributions of a few morning callers, and the stimulus of a chance visiter in the evening-I might submit it to perusal, and leave the comment to the judgment of the reader. This I did not; but of the purport of it all, I made very exact memoranda: and I risk no miscalculation when I assert that the sum of it was this:-a large portion were words, for the utterance of which no possible motive could be found :-neither the speaker nor the hearer being interested in them, nor meaning any thing, nor understanding any thing by them. Another portion were of that dubious nature, that though it would seem harsh to call them false, they wanted every character of simple, unexaggerated truth. Another part were decidedly, though not intentionally, harmful; because they were calculated to give pain to those who heard them, or depreciate those who were the subject of them. A fourth portion of our words I found to be of a very remarkable character: they were in exact opposition to our sentiments: expressions appropriate to a condition in which there should be no God, no providence, no immortality; but, without any purpose of impugning it, in no way applicable

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to our actual state of existence. In the fifth division-I am sorry to say not the smallest-I placed those words of which it is said, that out of the heart the mouth speaketh; and which proved that our hearts were not wholly occupied with that charity which is the bond of perfectness. Of these were the angry words, the proud words, the envious words, the boastful words, the impatient words, the selfish words, which did not so much belie as betray our actual meaning.

And under another head, I ranged communications respecting others that had better not have been made, and the repetition of words that had better never have been spoken, much less repeated. If these portions of our conversation could not be in the mass pronounced evil, it will not be contended that any were good; therefore the whole may be marked off as a waste of powers, and must be entirely subtracted from, if not set against, the product, when the reckoning for our talents shall be required. Those who are not in the habit of selfexamination, will scarcely believe, when all this has been withdrawn, how little of the use of speech remained to be examined. A few expressions of affectionate feeling and benevolent sympathy; a very little communication of intellectual enjoyment; a touch or two of innocent humour intended to please, were like beautiful blossoms scattered here and there on an ill-thriven tree. And rarer still than the flowers, when I looked for the abiding fruits of all our interchange of words, they were not to be found. Of all I had spoken or heard, I could not fix upon one word by which permanent good had been done, or been even intended by the speaker; by which God had been honoured, or man benefitted, or ourselves amended. Even when the most serious

subjects had been alluded to, all the words might have been distributed among the preceding heads; unless we form another for that fearful license with which young people laugh and talk, and cavil, and play off their dangerous witticisms, upon things most sacred, and persons who should be sacred for the things' sake; their hearts never misgiving them, that they are not all the time talking very religiously.

It will be answered that this careless interchange of words is all very well: it is natural and agreeable, and lightens the daily task of life. We cannot be always talking to purpose; we need not be perpetually on the subject of religion, or making a parade of our knowledge and acquirements: talking nonsense is very agreeable, and often evinces more talent than solid discourse. To some extent this may be true; and as far as it is so, we would abridge nothing of the freedom of social intercourse. The woodman did not root up all the ivy, nor turn from their native growth all the woodbines of the park. But we must take care that what is agreeable does not overbear what is permanently valuable; and that the indulgence of natural propensities does not work our destruction. Much of the talk I have described is not innocent and is not agreeable; and, instead of lightening the task of life, adds many an item to the burden's weight, and many a pang to the trial's bitterness.

I have no doubt that much of our daily discourse bears the positive character of sin. Still more, not directly sinful, comes under the Apostle's warning against "foolish talking and jesting, which are not convenient;" by which, I imagine, he meant not to forbid innocent mirth on right subjects and at right times, but that habitual levity of discourse that be

speaks a mind taking no responsibility for the utterance of the lips; forgetting itself, as it were, in the intoxication of idle talk: a position "not convenient" indeed, for one prone to sin and encompassed with tempation, enlisted for battle, and in the midst of enemies. But my aim is not so much to prove that we do harm with this invaluable gift, as that we are bound to do more good with it than we do. I think we might make it more conducive to the rational and real enjoyments of life, to the general sum of human happiness, to the spiritual improvement of each other and ourselves, the credit of religion and the glory of God. And so far as we could do this and do not, our plea of harmlessness can deserve only the reception of the servant with his buried talent.

Certainly it is not desirable to be always talking of religion. In the way in which it is too generally handled by the inconsiderate, I would rather they never talked of it. But we may talk religiously, without talking of religion; we may speak as if God were never forgotten, but as much present to our recollection, as he is actually present as a witness and observer of our words; and so avoid every expression that consists not with our faith. As to the display that might appear in speaking always rationally, proud, vain, and selfish, would be all the words spoken from such a motive: but that sort of communication which affords improvement, and gives useful information, is not necessarily a display of talent -it may be interchanged where no talent is. Fruitful in excuses, we plead that conversation is a spontaneous and uncultivated growth; the moment it should become studied, artificial, and constrained, it would lose its charm. Let us remember that this heaven-implanted flower, like every other blossom