THERE is nothing in the New Testament more startling than the enunciation of the responsibility which we assume whenever we speak; for every idle word we shall have to give an account at the last, great day. There is something appalling in this, for how many idle words have we all spoken. But there is no principle of divine law for which there is not some substantial reason; and our own observation has led us to the conclusion that no inconsiderable part of the unhappiness of this world is occasioned by hastily, ill-considered, idle words. People are more sensitive than they are thought to be, and more people are sensitive than are thought to possess any sensibility whatever. We mean sensibility to the remarks of others. A whole life may be influenced—a whole life may be darkened by one observation, of which the maker never thinks again. Words lightly uttered often sink very deep into the mind of some boy or girl to whom they are addressed; and when those words are cruel or unkind or unjust they may rankle for years, never losing their freshness or their force in memory, but often recurring to recollection—a lasting well of bitterness. And grown people are often as sensitive as children. Men and women who appear almost indifferent, and even callous to what is said to them, or about them, are not unfrequently deeply wounded by some thoughtless remark, to which the speaker attaches little or no importance. If we habitually care to mind how hurtful to others our idle words may be, we should utter less of them.—Ex.