HOW TO CURE EXAGGERATION.
Some habits are so unconsciously practiced that a movement to mend them is the only way to detect them. The beam in one’s own eye is less noticed than the mote in another person’s eye. A family while at the breakfast table one morning, pledged to observe the strictest veracity for that day. A member of the family tells the “consequence.” As a first-fruit of the resolve, we asked the one who suggested it:— “What made you so late at breakfast this morning?” She hesitated, began with, “Because I couldn’t”—and then, true to her compact, said, “The truth is, I was lazy and didn’t hurry, or I might have been down long ago.” Presently one of them remarked that she had been very cold, adding, “I never was so cold in all my life.” An inquiring look caused the last speaker to modify her statement with, “Oh, I don’t think I was so cold after all.” A third remark to the effect that Miss So-and-so was the homeliest girl in the city, was recalled as soon as made, the speaker being compelled to own that Miss So-and-so was only rather plain, instead of being excessively homely. So it went on throughout the day, causing much merriment, which was good-naturedly accepted by the subjects, and giving rise to constant correction in the interests of truth. One thing became more and more surprising338ing, however, to each one of us, that was the amount of cutting down which our most careful statements demanded under this new law.—Selected.