LITMIR.BIZ

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      Dishonest words: ‘Her favour was his life,

      His heaven; her frown his woe, his night, his death.’

      With turgid phrase thus wove in flattery’s loom,

      He on her womanish nature won, and age

      Suspicionless, and ruined and forsook:

      For he a chosen villain was at heart,

      And capable of deeds that durst not seek

      Repentance. Soon her father saw her shame;

      His heart grew stone; he drove her forth to want

      And wintry winds, and with a horrid curse

      Pursued her ear, forbidding her return.

      Upon a hoary cliff that watched the sea,

      Her babe was found – dead; on its little cheek,

      The tear that nature bade it weep had turned

      An ice-drop, sparkling in the morning beam;

      And to the turf its helpless hands were frozen:

      For she, the woeful mother, had gone mad,

      And laid it down, regardless of its fate

      And of her own. Yet had she many days

      Of sorrow in the world, but never wept.

      She lived on alms; and carried in her hand

      Some withering stalks, she gathered in the spring;

      When they asked the cause, she smiled, and said,

      They were her sisters, and would come and watch

      Her grave when she was dead. She never spoke

      Of her deceiver, father, mother, home,

      Or child, or heaven, or hell, or God; but still

      In lonely places walked, and ever gazed

      Upon the withered stalks, and talked to them;

      Till wasted to the shadow of her youth,

      With woe too wide to see beyond – she died;

      Not unatoned for by imputed blood,

      Nor by the Spirit that mysterious works,

      Unsanctified. Aloud her father cursed

      That day his guilty pride which would not own

      A daughter whom the God of heaven and earth

      Was not ashamed to call His own; and he

      Who ruined her read from her holy look,

      That pierced him with perdition manifold,

      His sentence, burning with vindictive fire.”

      The flattering talker possesses a power which turned angels into devils, and men into demons – which beguiled pristine innocence and introduced the curse – which has made half the world crazy with self-esteem and self-admiration. A power which has dethroned princes, involved kingdoms, degraded the noble, humbled the great, impoverished the rich, enslaved the free, polluted the pure, robbed the wise man of his wisdom, the strong man of his strength, the good man of his goodness. It is emphatically the power of the Destroyer, working havoc, devastation, woe, and death wherever it has sway, spreading disappointment, weeping, lamentation, and broken hearts through the habitations of the children of men. “He is,” as an old writer quaintly observes, “the moth of liberal men’s coats, the ear-wig of the mighty, the bane of courts, a friend and slave to the trencher, and good for nothing but to be a factor for the devil.”

      Mr. Sharp was a young student of amiable spirit, and promising abilities. Soon after he left college he took charge of an important church in the large village of C – , in the county of M – . He had not been long among his people before he won the good-will of all; and his popularity soon extended beyond the pale of his own church. Meantime, he did not appear to think of himself more than he ought. He was unassuming in his spirit, and devoted to his work, apparently non-affected by the general favour with which he was received.

      There was a member of his church whom we shall call Mr. Thoughtless; a man of good education, respectable intelligence, and in circumstances of moderate wealth. He was in the church an officer of considerable importance and weight. He was, however, given to the use of soft words, and complimentary speeches. In fact, he was a flatterer. He used little or no wisdom in his flattery, but generally poured it forth in fulsome measure upon all whom he regarded his friends. Mr. Sharp was a particular favourite with him, and he frequently invited him to his house. He did not observe the failing of his host, but considered him a very kind man, sweet-tempered, one of his best friends, the only member of his Church from whom he received any encouragement in his ministerial labours. Mr. Sharp became increasingly attached to him, and passed the greater part of his leisure hours in his company. The fact was, Mr. Thoughtless did not restrain his expressions of “great satisfaction” and “strong pleasure” in the “character and abilities” of Mr. Sharp. He was the “best minister ever among them” – “every one admired him” – “what a splendid sermon he preached last Sabbath morning” – “the congregations were doubled since he came” – he was “delighted with his general demeanour” – he “really thought his abilities were adequate to a larger Church in a city, than theirs in the country” – but he must not be “considered in speaking these things to flatter, for he should be ashamed to say anything to flatter a young minister whom he esteemed so highly,” and besides, he “thought him beyond the power of flattery.” Such were the flattering words which he poured into the undiscerning mind of Mr. Sharp at different times.

      Not long after this close friendship and these frequent visits, Mr. Sharp began to manifest a change in his spirit and conduct, which gradually developed into such proportions that some of the Church could not help noticing it.

      “I do not think,” said Mr. Smith – a truly godly man – to Mrs. Lane – who also was in repute for her piety – one day in conversation, “that our young pastor is so unassuming and devoted as when he first came among us.”

      “Is it not all fancy on your part, Mr. Smith?” asked Mrs. Lane.

      “I only hope it may be, but I fear it is true.”

      “In what respects do you think he is changed?” asked Mrs. Lane.

      “I do not, somehow or other, observe the same tone of spirituality in his preaching and company as were so obvious during the first part of his sojourn with us.”

      “Well, do you know,” said Mrs. Lane, “although I asked whether it was not all fancy on your part, yet I have had my apprehensions and fears, similar to yours. I have never mentioned them to any one before. I have been very grieved to see the change, and have prayed much for him. How do you account for it, Mr. Smith?”

      “I can only account for it by the supposition that he has been too much under the influence of Mr. Thoughtless, who, you know, is a man given to flattery, and who has by this flattery injured other young ministers who have been with us.”

      “It is ten thousand pities,” said Mrs. Lane, “that Mr. Sharp was not warned of the dangers of his flattery.”

      “It is just here, you know, Mrs. Lane. Mr. Thoughtless is a man of such influence in our Church, so bland in his way, so fair in his words, so wealthy in his means, that it is little use saying anything to warn against him. Besides, I fear that others have been too flattering in their addresses and compliments.”

      Mrs. Lane replied with evident emotion, “I am jealous of our dear minister. He is in jeopardy. O do let us pray for him, Mr. Smith, lest the flattering lips prove his ruin?”

      Mrs. Lane was right in her fears. In the course of a few months after this brief conversation, Mr. Sharp had reached a great height of self-importance. He failed in most of the amiable virtues which adorned his early career. He deteriorated in the zeal and spirituality of his preaching. He became florid, self-assured, and self-displaying. He thought his abilities too great for the Church at C – . The congregation had declined, and he assigned to himself as a reason, they could not appreciate the

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