you that "the lying tongue is but for the moment," and advise you to "keep your mouth, as it were, with a bridle;" but I think a short tale from real life will here answer my purpose better, by bringing before you the evil results of exaggeration, and showing that it is truthful in spirit you must strive to be, and not in the letter only.

THE SISTERS.

The Rectory at Dodington was not merely very pretty, but it was generally allowed to be the prettiest in the whole county of Devon, which is saying a great deal for it, for nature and art seem alike to have done their best to beautify some of these clerical abodes. The one at Dodington, to which I am about to introduce you, was not by any means large, and only two stories high. It had bay windows, and a thatched roof; and the walls were completely covered with roses and clematis, myrtles, fuchsias, and jasmine. A light ornamental verandah ran round the greater part of the house, and on this, too, these climbing plants luxuriated. Inside the Rectory, good taste was more visible than wealth; and the furniture, though simple and elegant, was by no

means costly. It was evidently upon the garden and its belongings that the parson lavished whatever money he had to spend upon matters purely ornamental. Such neatly-kept gravel walks, and such a smoothly-shaven lawn I never saw elsewhere. The rustic baskets and vases, filled with choice flowers, were the admiration of the neighbourhood; and so were the trellis-work arches and pillars on which the roses and honeysuckles were so cunningly trained. There was a well-cared-for greenhouse too, and a fountain in the middle of the lawn, in which little marble Cupids were taking a perpetual bath. And the water in that fountain was so clear and bright, and it tossed and played and sparkled so temptingly, that the village children were wont to stand on tiptoe, to peep at it over the Rectory gate, and wish that they were Cupids likewise.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds and their two young daughters who lived at this charming spot, and in whose fortunes and misfortunes I hope shortly to interest my readers.

The former were a kind-hearted couple, much loved and respected in Dodington, and a little envied likewise, I may add, in some quarters, for possessing two such sweet girls as my heroines

were universally pronounced to be. Twin sisters they were, and about twelve years of age, at the time my tale begins.

"How good tempered and merry they are!" said Mrs. Reynolds with motherly satisfaction, as she strolled in the shrubbery, leaning on her husband's arm, and the clear ringing laugh of the children sounded cheerily at the other end of the garden. "What sweet dispositions they are, Edward" repeated the Rector's wife, with a slight tinge of disappointment in her voice, because he had not immediately assented to her remark.

"I like Clara's disposition much better than Margaret's, my dear," replied Mr. Reynolds seriously, “and I am not sorry for this opportunity of consulting you about it." Here the worthy Rector paused, for he knew how distasteful what he was about to say would be to his wife. "Margaret is not quite truthful," he continued presently; "that habit of exaggerating of hers is growing upon her terribly, and it really makes me unhappy when I see how lightly the child thinks of it herself."

It's only her lively, merry way," pleaded the lady; "she is such a quick little puss, and

has such a keen sense of the ridiculous." And

as if to verify her mother's words, the girls came running up at that moment, laughing immoderately.

"Oh, Mamma!" exclaimed Margaret, "there's Miss Tippins just gone up the lane, and you never saw such a figure as she is this evening!-a yellow dress, and a red shawl, and a blue bonnet, and-" But the sentence was never finished, for Margaret's volubility was quickly checked by a reproving glance from her mother.

"My dear, you are talking great nonsense, and exaggerating terribly," said Mrs. Reynolds; "poor Miss Tippins' muslin is pale buff, not yellow; and her shawl is brown, not red; and her bonnet is decidedly lilac, not blue; for I was talking to her myself half an hour ago at old Bainse's cottage."

A little lecture followed this, at which Margaret pouted; and then the two girls made their escape, leaving Papa and Mamma, what they called "very cross," but which might have been better described as very sorrow

ful."

For some days after this occurrence, Margaret was not guilty of any similar transgression; but a month had scarcely elapsed, ere the evil habit

was in full force again, and this time with more serious results.

There was a small orchard at the back of the Rectory, and belonging to it, the apples in which were of choice kinds, and highly prized by Mr. Reynolds. He had been cherishing them greatly for two or three years, and this autumn the crop promised to be a particularly good one. Just when the apples were fast ripening, it became evident that some had been stolen; and the foot-marks near were so small and light, that there could be but little doubt a child had been the thief. Mr. Reynolds was mentioning this to his wife at dinner-time, when Margaret exclaimed that she had seen Farmer Brown's little boy stealing the apples the day before, but she had forgotten to say anything about it.

Now, when Margaret made this assertion, she little knew how important it was; and, having once made it, she did not like to retract. So the more her father questioned her, the more certain about it she professed to be, and at length so convinced Mr. Reynolds, that he decided upon complaining to the farmer, and insisting upon the boy being punished. Margaret was terribly frightened when she heard this decision; for the