Talkers Part 19

32, who confidently a.s.sured the last, No. 33, that the Bow-street officers had taken up the gentleman who lived at No. 1 for killing his poor dear wife with a.r.s.enic, and that it was confidently hoped and expected that he would be executed."

Mr. Eadie, of the village of Handley, was a man very much addicted to the practice of collecting tales and then disposing of them wherever he could. It was his habit whenever he had a spare hour (and this was rather often, for it must be understood he was not any too industrious), to go at one time into the house of neighbour A., and at another time into the house of neighbour B. Sometimes he would sit gossiping in these houses for hours together. He managed to keep on good terms with both of them, although between B. and A. there existed anything but a good feeling. And, by-the-by, Eadie was the agent of producing it, through carrying tales to each respecting the other. If A. ever happened to show temper at a tale which he repeated as originating with B. about him, he would be sure to have a gentle corrective in telling a tale which he had heard on "most reliable authority" respecting B., which tale would be sure to be worse than the one he had told A. as spoken by B. Thus he did from time to time with either party, so as to keep on good terms with both.

He was known in the whole village and neighbourhood as a person given to the gathering of tales and the telling of them. Some of the people were too wise and peaceable to give him any patronage and encouragement.

Others, however, were of different temperament. With curious mind and itching ears they always gave Eadie a welcome into their house. He was sure to bring news about neighbour Baxter and neighbour Mobbs, and somebody else of whom they were anxious to know a little matter or two.

Miss Curious was always glad to see him, because he could answer her inquiries about Miss Inkpen's engagement with young b.u.mstead--about the young gentleman who was at church the last Sabbath evening, and sat opposite to her in the gallery, ever and anon casting a glance at her as though he had some "serious intentions." Mrs. Allchin was another who always greeted Eadie with a smile into her house. They were, in fact, on very intimate and friendly terms. Whenever they met, mutual tale-bearing occupied their chief time and attention. Now and then Mrs. Allchin would ask Eadie to have a friendly cup of tea, which when accepted was always a high time for both. On such occasions they exchanged goods to the last articles manufactured in Fancy's shop or received from Scandal's warehouse.

The next day Mrs. Allchin might be seen busy in making her calls upon her friends, doing business with the new goods received from Eadie over her tea-table; and Eadie might be seen moving about among his friends, disposing of the new goods he had received from Mrs. Allchin at the same time. But it must be understood that the quality of them in each case was generally adulterated.

Mr. Steeraway was another who gave a hearty reception to Eadie whenever he called upon him. He would give close attention to the recital of Eadie's tales, much closer than he was in the habit of giving to the sermon at church or to the G.o.dly advice of the minister when he called on pastoral duties. One day Eadie told a tale about B. and S., two persons living as neighbours in the village, and who were living on the best terms of friends.h.i.+p. The day after Steeraway went to B. and told him what S. had been saying about him. He then went to S. and told him what B. had been saying about him. They were hard to believe the things which they heard; but Steeraway substantiated everything with such evidence as could not be denied. They met for explanation in the presence of Steeraway, who feigned to be the friend of both. Instead of clearing up matters, they made things darker, and parted, each thinking that there was some truth in what one had been saying of the other.

Reserve sprang up between them; mutual confidence was lost; a separation of friends.h.i.+p took place; and it became a notorious fact in the village that B. and S. were now as much at variance as they were aforetime friendly and united. But Eadie was the main cause of it by telling his scandal to Steeraway, who he knew would repeat it the first opportunity, and could no more keep it secret than a child can keep from the candy-shop a penny given it by its Uncle Moses.

Mr. Musgrove was a tradesman in the village. He was generally believed to be an honest man, making full measure and just weight to little children as well as to adults. He was a tradesman who had a high sense of honour, and withal a mind sensitive to any attack upon his moral principles. Nothing affected him more than to have his integrity as a man of business called in question. One day Eadie, the tale-bearer, called at his shop (Musgrove was not at this time acquainted with Eadie's character and business), and after buying a small article, he said to him in a most grave manner,--

"Mr. Musgrove, I am a comparative stranger to you, and you are to me; but I am always concerned for the welfare of honest and good citizens.

Now, I would like you to succeed in trade as well as anybody else, and I hope you will; but you know it is difficult for a man in your business to get along if it is ever rumoured that he makes short weight and measure, and takes advantage of children and ignorant persons."

"What do you mean, Mr. Eadie?" inquired Mr. Musgrove, as though he understood the remark to apply to himself.

"I will tell you, Mr. Musgrove. Now, I hope you will not think that I am the inventor of what I am about to tell you, or that I even _believe_ it, for I have no reason for doing so."

"What is it, Mr. Eadie? What is it?"

"I would not dream of telling you, if I did not desire that you might stand well before the public and your customers in particular."

"That is what I am anxious to do; and what I am always studying to do; and I never yet had any fears about the matter."

"Nor have I, Mr. Musgrove; but it is said that you make short weight and measure."

"This is the first time that ever anything of the kind came to my ears since I have been in business," said Mr. Musgrove, with considerable feeling.

"The thing has been told me by several individuals; and I fear the report is going the round of the village, much to your injury."

"I am exceedingly sorry for it. But, Mr. Eadie, I must know the name of the party who has thus suffered from my dishonesty. I must trace this matter out, for my honour and happiness are dependent upon it. I scorn such a thing in the very thought."

"Yes, and it is said to have been in connection with a little child, too, and that makes the thing so much the worse."

"Well, now, Mr. Eadie, I must know the name of the party," said Mr.

Musgrove, very warmly.

"I feel considerable reluctance to give names," replied Eadie.

"You need not fear of being involved in any unpleasantness," answered Musgrove.

"So far as that goes, you know, I have no fear. But if you must know, I will tell you. It is in connection with the family of Bakers."

"Is it possible!" exclaimed Mr. Musgrove. "Do you know, Mr. Eadie, that I and that family are on the most friendly terms. We visit each other often; and they are most regular and frequent customers of mine. I can hardly believe, Mr. Eadie, that there is any truth in the report."

"I hope it may not be true, but it is strange so many should talk about it, if it were not. But I have no interest in telling you of this, I do it for your good."

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Eadie."

Eadie had now done his business, so off he started, and left Mr.

Musgrove reflecting. "Strange," thought he to himself, "that the Bakers have never said anything to me; that they should continue so friendly; that they should still send to my shop for everything they need. I cannot account for it." He continued the subject of considerable emotion and anxiety. He informed his wife of the matter; but she did not credit the first word. She was of different temper to him. He was very anxious during the night, and slept little. How could he, when his character for probity was implicated, and his business was likely to suffer? The first opportunity he had he went to see Mrs. Baker, to inquire into the facts of the case. She was glad to see him. Upon the statement of the story, as told by Eadie, she was amazed, and exceedingly grieved. After a brief pause, she said to Mr. Musgrove, "I think I can tell you how the matter originated. My little girl went to your shop the other day for two pounds of b.u.t.ter, and when she brought it home, Miss Nancy, who is rather given to suspicion, thought the b.u.t.ter didn't weigh two pounds, so she at once weighed it, and found that the weight was perfectly right. Mrs. Allchin called in the day after, and in conversation I happened to mention the circ.u.mstance to her. I ought to have known better; for I seldom tell her anything of the kind, because I know her gossiping humour. Mrs. Allchin and Eadie, who you say told you about it, are very intimate friends; I have no doubt she informed him in her way of exaggeration and wonder; and then he would tell you in his own peculiar way, which is far from being a way of truthfulness. If you knew him as well as I do, you would not have heard his tale at all; and I am sure you would not have been disturbed in your mind by it, because you would not have believed him. And as to the tale being circulated through the village, that may be partly true; for when anything gets into Mrs.

Allchin's or Eadie's hands, it spreads like wildfire; but you may rest a.s.sured that no one will believe it, when it is known to come from either the one or the other. Do not be alarmed, Mr Musgrove, neither your character nor business will suffer. You stand as high as ever you did with us, and with everybody else, for aught I know. I am exceedingly sorry that the thing should have occurred." Musgrove left Baker's fully satisfied as to the fabrication of the tale, and still conscious of his own integrity; but he could not help feeling about it, nor could he help observing a slight decline in business from those parties who gave credence to the tale of Mrs. Allchin or Mr. Eadie.

These miserable habits of tale-bearing and meddling, of backbiting and whispering, are the source of the greater part of the quarrellings, alienations, jealousies, and divisions in families. The smallest, plainest bit of wire may become by such malicious working a sword that pierces, to the destruction of peace and happiness. The least possible authority is enough to give them warrant to set a-going an evil report, which, as it rolls, gathers from every point it touches.

As in the case of Jeremiah, "Report, say they, and we will report it.

All my familiars watched for my halting, saying, Peradventure he will be enticed, and we shall prevail against him, and we shall take revenge on him" (Jer. xx. 10). As in the case also of Nehemiah, "It is reported among the heathen, _and Gashmu saith it_, that thou and the Jews think to rebel; and now shall it be reported to the king according to these words" (Neh. vi. 6, 7).

Gashmu saith it, anybody says it, is authority enough. What did Nehemiah know about Gashmu? What did any one know? But there are always plenty of Gashmus for the tale-bearer's purpose. But although Gashmus be as plenty as blackberries, G.o.d's law is absolute and explicit; it hedges this wickedness around with many provisions, and walls it in, so that a man who commits it is as if he had broken through flaming gates for the purpose. "Thou shalt not raise nor receive a false report. Put not thine hand with the wicked to be an unrighteous witness. Thou shalt not follow a mult.i.tude to do evil; neither shalt thou speak in a cause to decline after many to wrest judgment (Exod. xxii. 1, 2). Lord, who shall abide in Thy tabernacle? He that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour"

(Ps. xv.).

Then observe the vagueness and indefiniteness of the accusation, founded on what in the nature of things was absolutely impossible to be known, except by overt action; founded on suspicion or conjecture of men's thoughts. "That thou and the Jews think to rebel!" There was no pretence that they _had_ rebelled. There is no need to begin the lie in so gross and bungling a manner; it was bad enough to set _the conjecture of an intention in motion_. Whoever took that report to the king would be sure to present it thus:--

"It is said that there is rebellion in Jerusalem."

"Rebellion! Who is at the head of it?"

"Nehemiah, the Governor."

"And where is the proof of this thing?"

"O, Gashmu saith it."

"And who is Gashmu?"

"O, n.o.body knows anything about him; but doubtless he is some responsible person!"

"A whisper broke the air,-- A soft light tone, and low, Yet barbed with shame and woe; Now, might it only perish there, Nor further go!

Ah me! a quick and eager ear Caught up the little meaning sound!

Another voice has breathed it clear, And so it wandered round From ear to lip, from lip to ear, Until it reached a gentle heart, And that--_it broke!_"

In reflecting upon these and similar results following the work of the tale-bearer, one cannot but recommend to his attention these words of Scripture: "Thou shalt not go up and down as a tale-bearer among thy people." "A tale-bearer revealeth secrets; but he that is a faithful spirit concealeth the matter." "The words of a tale-bearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly." "He that goeth about as a tale-bearer revealeth secrets, therefore meddle not with him that flattereth with his lips." "Where there is no tale-bearer, the strife ceaseth." "They learn to be idle, wandering about from house to house; and not only idlers, but tattlers also, and busy-bodies, speaking things which they ought not."

The following recipe is said to be an effectual cure of the mouth-disease of the tale-bearer. It is given in the hope that all who are so affected will give it a fair trial:--

"Take of good nature, one ounce; mix this with a little 'charity-for-others' and two or three sprigs of 'keep-your-tongue-between-your-teeth;' simmer them together in a vessel called 'circ.u.mspection' for a short time, and it will be fit for application. The symptom is a violent itching in the tongue and roof of the mouth, which invariably takes place when you are in company with a species of animals called 'Gossips.' When you feel a fit of the disorder coming on, take a teaspoonful of the mixture, hold it in your mouth, which you will keep closely shut till you get home, and you will find a complete cure. Should you apprehend a relapse, keep a small bottleful about you, and on the slightest symptom repeat the dose."

XXI.

_THE a.s.sENTER._