THE art of not hearing should be taught in every well-regulated family. It is full as important to domestic happiness as a cultivated ear, for which so much money and time are expended. There are so many things which it is painful to hear—many which we ought not to hear—very many which, if heard, will disturb the temper, corrupt simplicity and modesty, detract from contentment and happiness—that every one should be educated to take in or shut out sounds, according to their pleasure. If a man falls into a violent passion, and calls me all manner of names, the first word shuts my ears, and I hear no more. If, in my quiet voyage of life, I find myself caught in one of those domestic whirlwinds of scolding, I shut my ears as a sailor would furl his sails, and making all tight, scud before the gale. If a hot and restless man begins to inflame my feelings, I consider what mischief these fiery sparks may do in the magazine below, where my temper is kept, and instantly close the door. Does a gadding, mischief-making fellow begin to inform me what people are saying about me, down drops the portcullis of my ear, and he cannot get any further. Does the collector of a neighborhood's scandal ask my ear as a warehouse, it instinctively shuts up. Some people seem anxious to hear everything that will vex and annoy them. If it is hinted that any one has spoken evil of them, they set about searching the matter and finding out. If all the petty things said of one by heedless or ill-natured idlers were brought home to him he would become a mere walking pin-cushion stuck full of sharp remarks. I should as soon thank a man for emptying upon my bed a bushel of nettles, or setting a swarm of ants in my chamber, or raising a pungent dust in my house generally, as to bring in upon me all the tattle of careless or spiteful people. If you would be happy, when among good men, open your ears; when among bad, shut them.—Sel.