tire silence, like the monks of La
Trappe."

"It is probable," said Miss B., "that a greater part of our ordinary
conversation had better be dispensed with. 'In the multitude of words
there wanteth not sin.' For my own part, my conscience often reproaches
me with the sins of my tongue."

"I'm sure you don't sin much that way, I must say," said Helen; "but,
cousin, I really think it is a freezing business sitting still and
reflecting all the time when friends are together; and after all I can't
bring myself to feel as if it were wrong to talk and chatter away a good
part of the time, just for the sake of talking. For instance, if a
friend comes in of a morning to make a call, I talk about the weather,
my roses, my Canary birds, or any thing that comes uppermost."

"And about lace, and bonnet patterns, and the last fashions," added Miss
B., sarcastically.

"Well, supposing we do; where's the harm?"

"Where's the good?" said Miss B.

"The good! why, it passes time agreeably, and makes us feel kindly
towards each other."

"I think, Helen," said Miss B., "if you had a higher view of Christian
responsibility, you would not be satisfied with merely passing time
agreeably, or exciting agreeable feelings in others. Does not the very
text we are speaking of show that we have an account to give in the day
of judgment for all this trifling, useless conversation?"

"I don't know what that text does mean," replied Helen, looking
seriously; "but if it means as you say, I think it is a very hard,
strait rule."

"Well," replied Miss B., "is not duty always hard and strait? 'Strait is
the gate, and narrow is the way,' you know."

Helen sighed.

"What do you think of this, Uncle C.?" she said, after some pause. The
uncle of the two young ladies had been listening thus far in silence.

"I think," he replied, "that before people begin to discuss, they should
be quite sure as to what they are talking about; and I am not exactly
clear in this case. You say, Anna," said he, turning to Miss B., "that
all conversation is idle which has not a directly useful tendency. Now,
what do you mean by that? Are we never to say any thing that has not for
its direct and specific object to benefit others or ourselves?"

"Yes," replied Miss B., "I suppose not."

"Well, then, when I say, 'Good morning, sir; 'tis a pleasant day,' I
have no such object. Are these, then, idle words?"

"Why, no, not exactly," replied Miss B.; "in some cases it i