D MUCH!"

Duty is closely allied to truthfulness of character; and the dutiful man
is, above all things, truthful in his words as in his actions. He says
and he does the right thing, in the right way, and at the right time.

There is probably no saying of Lord Chesterfield that commends itself
more strongly to the approval of manly-minded men, than that it is truth
that makes the success of the gentleman. Clarendon, speaking of one of
the noblest and purest gentlemen of his age, says of Falkland, that he
"was so severe an adorer of truth that he could as easily have given
himself leave to steal as to dissemble."

It was one of the finest things that Mrs. Hutchinson could say of her
husband, that he was a thoroughly truthful and reliable man: "He never
professed the thing he intended not, nor promised what he believed out
of his power, nor failed in the performance of anything that was in his
power to fulfil."

Wellington was a severe admirer of truth. An illustration may be given.
When afflicted by deafness he consulted a celebrated aurist, who, after
trying all remedies in vain, determined, as a last resource, to inject
into the ear a strong solution of caustic. It caused the most intense
pain, but the patient bore it with his usual equanimity. The family
physician accidentally calling one day, found the Duke with flushed
cheeks and bloodshot eyes, and when he rose he staggered about like a
drunken man. The doctor asked to be permitted to look at his ear, and
then he found that a furious inflammation was going on, which, if not
immediately checked, must shortly reach the brain and kill him. Vigorous
remedies were at once applied, and the inflammation was checked. But the
hearing of that ear was completely destroyed. When the aurist heard of
the danger his patient had run, through the violence of the remedy
he had employed, he hastened to Apsley House to express his grief and
mortification; but the Duke merely said: "Do not say a word more about
it--you did all for the best." The aurist said it would be his ruin
when it became known that he had been the cause of so much suffering and
danger to his Grace. "But nobody need know anything about it: keep your
own counsel, and, depend upon it, I won't say a word to any one." "Then
your Grace will allow me to attend you as usual, which will show the
public that you have not withdrawn your confidence from me?" "No,"
replied the Duke, kindly but firmly; "I can't do that, for