MORAL HONESTY.

BY MRS. PULLAN.

"This is, I suppose, a benevolent place enough; all your great miserable towns are." "Benevolent, but not just: very willing to give in charity; very unwilling to pay an honest price for honest labour. No one would applaud the master if he paid those poor wretches of his enough to live on: whereas, when he gives £500 in one subscription, the air is deafened with shouts."-THE MELVILLES.

SHALL I offend for ever some of my young friends by repeating to them a caution I once heard an excellent old lady give to a beloved and only daughter? "Above all, my child, be always honest; remember that to 'do justice' is a command which comes before that other, and more favourite one, to 'love mercy.'

I dare say my countenance showed some of the astonishment I felt at hearing the mother of a most excellent and admirable girl caution her to "be honest ;" for the lady, turning to me, said:

"Has it never struck you that there is much less moral honesty in the world than we are apt to think there is ?—that we may appear very excellent members of society, and even have the reputation for being charitable, and yet indulge constantly in acts of dishonesty? There is a verse in the Bible which I have often pondered over, because it presents our human nature under an aspect so revolting that very few of us would be inclined to admit it to be a true one, were the authority at all less unquestionable. It is this: 'Rob not the poor, because he is poor.""

If any of us were accused of such a crime, committed from so despicable a motive, we should indignantly deny its truth on behalf of our whole sex, as well as for ourselves; "to rob the poor, because he is poor," seems an outrage on humanity of which no professing Christian could possibly be guilty. And yet we know that there must be in human nature a tendency to commit this evil; else wherefore should He who knows all hearts have uttered the command, and even enforced

it by the assurance of retribution for its violation. "Rob not the poor, because he is poor, neither oppress the afflicted in the gate, for the Lord trieth their cause."

"And yet," I replied, "I hardly see in what way we rob, or even have the power to rob the poor."

Perhaps not. But if we examine strictly our own conduct, and the motives which have actuated it, I fear very few of us will be able truly to declare themselves innocent of this sin. To rob, in the gross sense of the word, is of course out of the question; but does it not

amount to the same thing if we withhold what is justly due-if we pay less than has been honestly earned-if we avail ourselves of any might that may be on our side to trample under foot the rights of the toiler, and in the emphatic language of Scripture, 'grind the faces of the poor ?""

Such a view of the case startled me into serious reflection, and I came reluctantly to the conclusion that we are indeed but too frequently guilty of what I must term Moral Dishonesty. There is hardly one of us, however moderate her means, who has not occasion to employ the services of others yet humbler than herself. The seamstress, the laundress, the domestic, for instance: all these are people with whose assistance none of us can dispense. Do we never find ourselves calculating on their submitting to take something less than a fair price for their labours, rather than, lose their employment? Do we never recom

any one, in something like these words, to a friend, "Oh, she is very poor, and will be glad to take almost anything." Is not this speech, so often and so thoughtlessly uttered, the very embodiment of the spirit denounced when we are forbidden to "rob the poor, because he is poor."

The most general excuse for the spirit of chaffering would be that our means are limited, and that we are obliged to study economy-an excuse reasonable enough in itself, had it but the merit of being valid. But if our spirit of economy be excited by our knowledge of the necessities of the persons to be employed, and our feeling that their fate is in some measure in our hands, I fear that our plea of poverty is no true one, since it is one we should never venture to advance with a fashionable marchande des modes, or indeed with any one whom we considered independent of our patronage. Is not this something like "robbing the poor because he is poor?' If we desire to make a purchase which is beyond our means, we have to sacrifice our wishes to our sense of probity; but if we wish to have work done, and cannot afford to do so at a fair price, we endeavour to induce the poor needlewoman to do it for a sum which will not procure her the barest necessaries of life. Would it not be better to do a part ourselves, and pay an honest price for the remainder, or to dispense with some unnecessary luxury, if by that means we can benefit our fellow-creatures? for it is no charity to give employment, and to pay for that labour what will not keep body and soul together. This is merely self-indulgence, not benevolence.

But it may be objected, everybody tries to get work done cheaply, and it is optional for the worker to decline what she does not think will pay her sufficiently. The first of these excuses does not deserve consideration. We are not to "follow the multitude to do evil," but to

try not only our actions but their motives by the only unerring test we possess by the revealed will of God.

The other excuse, however, appears so plausible that it may be worth while to investigate it. Unfortunately, in this overpeopled island, it is anything but optional with a worker to refuse employment if the remuneration is inadequate. The theory sounds extremely well, but facts contradict it. It may be safely assumed, that ninety-nine out of every hundred of the poorer classes are entirely dependant on their daily labour for their daily bread. A full half have others, near and dear ones, to maintain as well as themselves. There is a young widow, with children to feed and clothe, or a daughter who is toiling to give a sick father food and medicine, or a sister labouring for the orphan child of a dead relative. We have only to place ourselves in thought in the position of any one of these, and endeavour to realise the terrible consequences of being even for a few days without employment, to feel that she has indeed little power to decline the most miserably paid labour, if nothing better offers; or to insist on more liberal remuneration, if the justice of her employer does not lead her to give it. No; she feels that she must take what is offered, or starve; and thus our selfish nature is confirmed, and very probably we even fancy ourselves extremely benevolent to give the employment at all.

But while discussing money matters, we must not forget another way in which the laws of moral honesty are violated, and of which the results are frequently not less calamitous. I mean in our dealings with tradespeople. We are all familiar with Miss Edgeworth's story of "The Dun," and have perhaps grieved over the peril to which the daughter was exposed, and the undeserved misfortunes of the parents, arising from the reckless extravagance of the gallant Colonel Pembroke. But has it ever occurred to us that perhaps we may, from sheer thoughtlessness, be acting as guiltily, and causing equal misery? The system of credit, which is granted to known customers, is of itself an enormous evil in the commercial world; and it is notorious that half the bankruptcies that occur are caused by the impossibility of obtaining the bills of customers; but unfortunately this is not all. Many London houses in which the health of the principal is utterly destroyed by over toil and over anxiety, might be flourishing if those who are indebted to it would but pay their accounts. This is especially the case with such firms as have a large country connexion. Too many ladies fancy in giving orders they give all that is necessary, and withdraw their custom the moment their account is presented. A lady sends an order to a London house; she expresses an anxiety that it should be executed by return of post, and adds perhaps that the bill shall be paid immediately on her knowing the amount. To the honour of the British shopocracy, the

desire is at once complied with, the style and writing of the note showing that it is the production of a gentlewoman. With the goods the bill arrives. Is it settled at once? Very seldom. "The amount is so small, it is scarcely worth while to draw a Post-office order." "I shall be wanting some more things in a few weeks, and then I can pay for all at once." "It is such a trifle, it cannot be a matter of any consequence. I may as well leave it till I go to town." Now, in the first place, it is not honest to use that which, not being paid for, is not our own. In the next place, we are incurring a part of a responsibility which very few would desire if they considered its magnitude. We are greatly inconveniencing a person who has certainly obliged us; for we are probably one only of a number who are acting this dishonest part; and although two or three pounds may be of little consequence, even to a beginner, yet fifty such sums make a serious amount. You are probably destroying the credit of a person whom you would rather desire to assist, and you are injuring every one else with whom he may have future dealings; for it is not to be supposed that his confidence in the good faith of his customers will continue.

It is not my desire to harrow up the feelings of my readers, or I could give from my own knowledge such scenes of domestic misery, of destroyed health, ruined intellect, suicide, and death from this one cause alone, as would prevent every one of them from ever again committing this species of moral dishonesty. I could show the sick child, the darling of its parents' heart, pining to death for the fresh air which they cannot give it because they cannot "get in those little bills." I could point out the husband who in the prime of life is compelled to leave his young wife and family without a protector, literally worn to the grave by the want of the money owing to him; and that from the very people, probably, who, if he made an urgent appeal to their charitable sympathies, would send him as a free gift far more than they now neglect to pay. I could perhaps lift up the curtain from before a yet darker scene, when a woman, young, gentle, and perhaps delicately nurtured as any of yourselves, is the victim of this heartless cruelty. But I will now leave this part of my subject, convinced that I have said enough to be a caution to all who have fallen into these errors from heedlessness, not intention; and that it is the head rather than the heart which is in fault in the majority of cases I have long been convinced. Your position may be humble, and your present influence small, or they may be very much the reverse; at all events, it is but reasonable to suppose that increasing years will give you a larger sphere of action and greater powers for good or for evil; but whatever your place in society, you have doubtless the wish to do good in it, and rely upon it, in paying your debts promptly, and giving a fair day's wages

for an honest day's work, you will do more real benefit to society than you could effect by placing your name on the subscription lists of a dozen charities, if in doing so you neglected the more important duty. Remember, too, it is no longer the fashion to be in debt: the greatest lady in the land, who as woman, wife, and mother, is not less admirable than as Queen, sets an example in this respect that it would be happy indeed if all her subjects imitated. Never will her name be associated with aught but a blessing by those who are happy enough to be employed by her. At fixed and short intervals all her Majesty's accounts are invariably paid, and it is said that the surest mode of incurring her displeasure is to omit sending in the bill at the proper date. What happy augury may we not draw of the character of our future Sovereign from the example he has before him of virtues which have not always graced a throne !

There is a beautiful saying of the ancients, "De mortuus nil nisi bonam" (Let us say nothing but good of the dead). Pity that we do not adopt the motto with reference to those living-dead, the absent. How many a quarrel, how many heart-burnings, how much evil would be spared, if we habituated ourselves to speaking no evil of those who are not present to vindicate themselves! It is truly painful to witness the spirit of detraction which frequently pervades the conversation of a group of young ladies. What slighting, sneering expressions are used regarding the persons, minds, and tempers of their absent companions! How every virtue and every beauty is qualified by some fatal "but," which has the effect of at once destroying its excellence! The mere tone of the voice is often sufficient to give the effect of an innuendo to words which in themselves are harmless. "How beautifully Miss S. plays!" "Yes, so she ought; for she spends half her time at the piano." "Did you see the exquisite drawings Miss V. brought from school last holidays ?" "Yes; they are certainly admirable. I wonder if she could do them as well if the master were not at her elbow." Is there nothing dishonest in such speeches? Is there no stealing away of that which is infinitely more valuable than existence itself—the very life of life, our character? Certainly, though it is a crime against Nature to go out of our way to speak evil of the dead, it is not so injurious either to society or to ourselves as it is thus to give way to the propensity for slandering the living. Nor let us flatter ourselves that we injure others only. The injury we do ourselves by giving way to this spirit is incalculable. We cannot indulge ourselves in such speeches without imbibing the spirit of the bitterness which they express; for although people are apt to excuse themselves by saying that