Phædrus knew men. His fable is not all a fable. If not a fact, it casts the shadow of one. It is easier to unfold the faults of others than our own. And, if all should delight to do it, none would be safe.
"Then, what a disposition does such practice indicate! How dark a spirit! What moral obliquity and depravity! No good is intended, none secured. Should good result, it would be a disappointment to the tale-bearer. No doubt there is often the appearance of pity for the victim. Many a story is told with rueful countenance, and protestations of sorrow for the occurrence, when the teller is secretly exulting in the injury it will do. 'How often does the reputation of a helpless creature bleed by a report, which the party, who is at pains to propagate it, beholds with much pity and fellow-feeling, is heartily sorry for it, hopes in God it is not true; however, as Archbishop Tillotson wittily remarks upon it, is resolved, in the mean time, to give the report her pass, that, at least, it may have fair play to take its fortune in the world, to be believed or not, according to the charity of those into whose hands it may fall.'[11] What can be more contemptible or base!
"Then the injury that is done. How many reputations are thus ruined—ruin for which no one is responsible—by men and women, who deal their blows in the dark, who let fly their Parthian arrows and retreat! How much mischief is caused to families and neighborhoods by cowardly people, who skulk behind 'I reckon,' or 'they say,' while they protrude their venomed tongues covered with the poison of asps! Nay, how are whole communities often kept in a state of constant and feverish excitement by those whose tongues should blister with their utterances! And how soon would the fever be allayed, and the excitement die, and the strife cease, if those 'who whet their tongue like a sword, and bend their bows to shoot their arrows, even bitter words,' would learn to use aright the power of speech! And would this accomplish it? The Bible says it would. 'Where there is no tale-bearer the strife ceaseth.'"
TO CORRESPONDENTS.—The following articles are accepted: "The Match-Making Mother," "Leaves from the Journal" (we shall use as we have room), "Going in Search of Impressions," "Imagination and Fancy among the Arabs," and "The Loss of the Hector."
"The Orphan Boy," a poem, that appeared in the February number, was from the pen of Robert G. Allison, now residing at Warrenton, N. C. His name was omitted by mistake.
We have not room for these articles, yet some are well worth publication: "The Prophecy," "Dreams," "Phædra," "To A——," "A Venetian Elopement," "Child's Evening Prayer," "The Poet's Lament," "Sibylline," "All Earth is Beautiful," "The Coquette," "Godey," "Lines," "Two Scenes in City Life," "Remien" (will be returned, if the author requests), "Home," "Lost at Sea," "Sonnet," "The Dying Girl," "Scene in the Garden," "Fancies," "Maria," "Musings," "Adieu to my Bower," "Old Forest Tree," "Ida Lofton," "Blossoms," "The dirge I hear," "The Bereaved," and "On the Death of two Children."
The above is a long list. We regret we cannot oblige all our friends, but the "Book" has its limits. We have heretofore alluded to the number of elegies and laments of the bereaved sent us for publication, and given our reasons for declining, generally, such poems. We think the newspaper circulating most largely in the vicinity of the "loved and lost," is the most suitable organ for these obituaries of the heart; the merits of the poetry are of less consequence to the reader who loves the memory of the dead. Elegiac poetry, when written to express individual grief, should be addressed to those who can sympathize with the bereaved, not to the general public, who read to criticize. A number of articles on hand are not yet examined.
