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THERE is an old maxim, which I dare say my young friends have heard more than once, or twice: I know, when I was a little girl, it was told me so often, that as I grew up, whenever I found my tongue running too fast, I used to repeat it over and over again to myself, thus: "Young ladies should be seen before they are heard."-" Young ladies should be seen before they are heard." I am sure papa, or mamma, or some dear aunt Sarah, or perhaps some of your nurses, have told you this maxim, particularly if you have been considered a CHATTERBOX.

The English are called a silent people, and yet they frequently talk more, in my opinion, than is good either for themselves or others. It is the very perfection of wisdom to know when to speak, and when to keep silence. Some of the most beautiful of the Proverbs of Solomon treat of this:

they are admirable in every way. I used to commit them to memory, when I was a little girl: I hope they did me good.

A dear friend of mine has a very nice child-a fond, good tempered, generous little creature; her name is Fanny Eltham

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you would be pleased to hear her sing, and see her dance, and, still more so, to observe how willingly she gives up her enjoyments to make others happy. She eats whatever is put upon her plate, without a desire for change: she shares her cakes, her toys, her fruits and flowers, joyfully with her companions: -in short, were she not such an everlasting Chatterbox, she would be the most delightful young lady I know; but she mars all her good qualities by her love of talking. Fanny will talk as long as she can about what she understands; and then she will talk about what she cannot possibly understand, rather than remain silent. She has not patience to wait to learn; but will run away with the beginning or end of a story, fancying she comprehends the whole; and so, without intending to circulate an untruth, she arrives at a false conclusion, and leads others to do the same: not only this, but her active imagination causes her to add to a story; and she never pauses to consider the effect her words may produce.

It is really wonderful to hear how fast Fanny talks-crowding one thing upon another—heaping up words and sentences -chatter, chatter, chatter!—I am sure, if hard work ever wore out a little tongue, hers will be gone before she is twenty. But I have reason to think that my little friend Fanny will improve rapidly: I will tell you why I think so by-and-bye.

Before she could pronounce words she would keep on all day, saying, "Yab, yab, yab!" and instead of trying to prevent this unceasing "yabbing," the nurses used to laugh at it and her eldest sister called her "Yabby," a name changed to "Chatterbox" before she was three years old. "Chatterbox" had also got a very rude habit of asking questions, and not attending to the answers: certainly, of all my little friends

of six or seven years old, she was the most unceasingly talkative, and consequently, notwithstanding her many amiable qualities, the most tiresome.

Six months ago I was on a visit at her mamma's house, and I heard Fanny's feet and Fanny's tongue running a race together along the hall and up the stairs-no pause, no stop! what she said was nearly as follows:—

"There Mary never mind my shoes as I want to tell mamma how badly Pompey behaved when we were opposite the Duke's in the park ran at a dog's tail and the dog ran between a pony's legs and then they rolled over and overa policeman with three heads of cabbage which a woman had spoke to her about carrying parcels in the park—and then Harry's hat went away and my hoop rolled into the Serpentine-and you know you told me to give your love to Mrs. Johnes-and the footman said when he opened the door that his master had run away that morning then he told me not to stand there and slapt the door in my face." The latter part of this story was rapidly told in the drawing-room, where I was sitting with Fanny's mamma; and the latter part only, attracted my friend's attention.

"What do you mean, my love, by Mr. Johnes' having ran away?" inquired Mrs. Eltham.

"The servant said his master had run away, mamma, and he would not let me come into the hall, he was so rude!" answered Chatterbox, rather more slowly; and was running on with some magnified account (for great and rapid talkers never attend very strictly to what a friend-a Quaker friend -of mine calls "the bright ornament," meaning truth), when her mamma desired her to stop.

"I must inquire into this," she said, and rose to ring the bell. "Very strange!" she repeated.

Fanny persisted that it "was every word true;" that Mr. Johnes had run away; and that she was not permitted to enter the hall, though she had a particular message for her little friend Rosa.

"Is this so?" inquired Mrs. Eltham of the servant; "Miss Fanny says Mr. Johnes has run away."

"So he has, ma'am," replied the maid: "he ran away this morning from the small-pox, which all the children have got, and which he is dreadfully afraid of catching. The footman would not let us into the house because of the infection." "How is

Mrs. Eltham looked displeased with Fanny. this?" she said. "You misrepresented two facts. Any one who heard you speak would imagine there must be some other cause for Mr. Johnes' running away; and that the footman deserved to lose his place for treating the child of his mistress's friend with rudeness: whereas poor Mr. Johnes ran away because of the small-pox; and the footman deserves great credit for so steadily preventing the entrance you would have forced; you might not only have caught the disease yourself, but brought the dreadful infection home to your brothers and sisters."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Mary Browne, who was not only a very high-principled, good girl, but an excellent servant; "I beg your pardon, but I am sure Miss Fanny did not intend to misrepresent. She asked the footman why Mr. Johnes went away; but she did not attend to what he said, and then became rather angry because he would not let her run across the hall, as usual, to Miss Ellen's room.

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