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at the village shop. But as soon as ever I became a little older, I began to reflect that this was very wrong. One Sunday evening, when I had leavo to go home to see my parents, I was beginning to tell my mother how there had been a great uproar at the parsonage the day before, about——Here she put her hand upon my lips, and said, 'Charles, not a word more of what has passed at the parsonage. Whatsoever happens in your master's house is never to be spoken of out of your master's doors. A tale-bearing servant is always an unfaithful servant; he betrays the trust which his master puts in him."
My mother's vehemence surprised me a little, but it made so much impression upon me, that I was pretty well broken of the fault from that very time. Into how many scrapes has this talkative temper brought many servants of my acquaintance. There was poor Nic Jarret, the Squire's under footman, that lost his place, a new suit of black broad eloth, and a legacy of five pounds, which ho would soon have had by reason of his mistress's death, only for saying at a neighbour's house that his mistress sometimes fell asleep while tho Squire was reading to the family on a Sunday night.
Nic and I were at one time rather too intimate; I remember one day, when I was about sixteen, having attended my master to the Squire's house, Nic prevailed on me after dinner to play with him at pitch and toss. I was worth at that time five shillings and two-pence, more money than I had ever possessed beforo in my life. In about two hours Nic reduced me to my last shilling. But though it was a heavy stroke at tho time, yet it proved in the end a happy event, for by my mother's persuasions I resolved thence forward never to
