conversation; and although the society was elegant and well educated, yet the frequency of our meetings often drove us, for variety, to the intrigues and petty scandal of the neighbourhood. The disposition for this kind of entertainment became at last so strong, that we grew ashamed of it; and resolved one evening to create a "Court of Scandal," by which all offences against the good breeding and charity of speech should be tried, and whose decisions we bound ourselves to obey. When I observe how strong is our propensity for scandal, and with what greediness evil-speaking is listened to, I cannot help wishing that there were such a tribunal in every one's bosom. Did it exist, or rather did we suffer the voice which there speaks, to be heard; we should often be humbled at its decisions. If we unmask our actions and our motives, we shall find this propensity at the bottom of much of what is called—virtuous indignation. At one time, it assumes the mock appearance of charity; at another, it tries to hide itself in sallies of wit, or lurks beneath a half whispered insinuation, or a kind doubt, or a malicious inquiry. Its seeds are deeply sown, and take still deeper root in the human breast; and it requires the strictest self-examination, and the greatest candour, to avoid being overrun, if I may so express myself, with this nightshade.

I know of nothing more despicable, than the little mincing scandal which buzzes about in our polite circles. Always on the wing, with honey in its mouth, and poison and bitterness in its trail, it spreads the injurious aspersion, and the doubtful insinuation; and fastens them, like mildew, upon the fairest and purest characters. It is a vice essentially grovelling, and low-minded, and which grows upon us at unawares. It advances imperceptibly through all its various degrees; from idle curiosity to the deep and settled malignity, which has no pleasure but in the weaknesses, the errors, and misfortunes, of those around it. Beware, reader! lest while giving to my description a local habitation in the person of thy neighbours, thou indulgest the disposition thyself, and turnest my counsel into food for thy propensity.—But I have wandered from my original plan, which was, to give some account of our court of scandal, and of the decisions which it pronounced.

The first cause that came before it, was, a complaint from Julia Manners against Miss Busy, who had circulated a report that Julia was about to be married.

Miss Busy lived opposite to Julia's father's; and generally took her morning and afternoon station at the parlour window. She one day espied from thence, a well dressed young man escorting Julia home. Her curiosity was immediately excited; and she sallied out to the next neighbour's, to inquire who the stranger was, and to wonder if he was not a suitor. The answer, It is like enough, was sufficient. She continued her walk, discovered his name at the next place where she inquired, and received some trivial confirmation of her conjecture at a third. From that time forward, she asked all whom she visited, or received, if they had seen Miss Manners' suitor. Conjecture was built upon conjecture, till at last poor Julia was to be married and sent off in the space of a fortnight. After a patient hearing of an hour, the court decreed, that Miss Busy should be interdicted any of our circle for two weeks, and that her parlour windows should be kept closed for as many months.

Miss Lively happening to mention at the tea table, one afternoon, that Maria Harwood had jilted Captain Jones, was immediately called to an account. She blushed, and said it was common rumour, and that she knew nothing but what she had heard. The court decided that this circumstance would not excuse her, for that she thus lent the authority of her name to an idle story which she confessed she had no reason to believe was true. It was declared, that the person who assisted in circulating what was mere rumour, shared in the guilt of the fabricator; and that as Miss Lively was Maria Harwood's particular friend, she had in this instance doubly offended. Miss Lively was therefore examined again as to her authority for what she had said. After much inquiry and prevarication, it turned out, that her mother's chamber-maid had heard Mr. Harwood's cook say, that it would serve such a proud thing right, if Miss Maria would turn him off. The court ordered the fair offender to be reprimanded. The punishment had the proper effect; and for six weeks she could not mention an article of doubtful intelligence, without being asked if it came from Mr. Harwood's cook.

The next cause which I recollect, was of rather a more intricate nature. Julia Manners and Emma Harwood were near neighbours, and lived on terms of close intimacy. Julia was unconcealing, generous, and frank; free in her expressions, and warm in all her feelings. Emma was amiable and correct, but jealous of her dignity; and rather eager in listening to the opinions of others respecting her. Such a disposition always finds some one ready to gratify it; and Emma heard much to excite her jealousy, and alarm her pride. A young lady, a mutual friend, wondered to Emma that she should be so intimate with Miss Manners, and was sure she did not know all that Julia said about her. What? eagerly exclaimed Emma. "She could not say: it was told in confidence, and she did not like to hurt any one's feelings." This only excited more curiosity, and Emma at last forced her half willing friend to confess, that Julia had called her proud and touchy; and said she did not like her half so well as she did her sister. Miss Harwood felt much hurt; and behaved very coolly to her old friend for several weeks. Julia at last complained to the court, and the affair was investigated. We found out, upon examining the witnesses, that Julia had only tacitly assented to these opinions, which had been expressed by the fair informer herself; and had never suffered them to influence her conduct. Emma was thereupon ordered to kiss her old companion, and make an acknowledgment before the company of the injustice she had committed; and we unanimously agreed to banish their mutual friend from our circle.

I had intended to give some further decisions of our court, in which the gentlemen are particularly interested; but my good friends, the Editors, are already looking askance for the end of my paper. In publica commoda peccem—if I longer take up the room devoted to my worthy neighbours, the farmers.

I shall only add, that we found our court of scandal so efficacious, that it restored our conversation in a few weeks to its former tone, and entirely banished the spirit of which I have complained.

FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

"THE STORY OF RUTH."

"And, behold, Boaz came from Beth-lehem, and said unto the reapers, The Lord be with you. And they answered him, The Lord bless thee."

There are moments in the life of every virtuous man, when the vices and the enormities by which he is surrounded, and above all, the glaring deficiencies which he is compelled to remark, even in those "whom he hath delighted to honour," come back upon the mind with an overpowering force, and spread their disheartening influence over the whole train of his reflections. At such moments, when we have turned with disgust from the corruptions of human nature, and have almost been tempted to seek in "some boundless contiguity of shade," a retreat from their contaminating influence; it is peculiarly delightful to recur to some scene of virtuous enjoyment, or to disperse the gloom which has gathered around us by a reference to the simplicity of other times. While dwelling upon the records of ancient purity, we become conscious of a joyous complacency; the mind is elated in the contemplation