I am sure, are every way as good as the average, if not better. There is hardly one of my acquaintance who is not, or has not been, the victim of one or more of these malicious tales. As for myself, I thought I had fortunately escaped; and I attributed it to the fact that I am naturally frank, a friend to all social amelioration—that is, to the societies here working for this object—and that my industrious and quiet life placed me above the reach of slandering tongues. Judge, then, of my surprise—and, if you can, of my profound mortification—when yesterday my intimate friend, Mrs. Allen, told me that she had heard that I married my husband solely for his money, and had confessed as much on several occasions! Did you ever hear anything so vile—you who know that, although Mr. Russel is much older than I am, and that I was a poor girl, while he was comparatively rich, ours was really and truly a marriage of mutual and sincere love?
"Of course, Mrs. Allen did not tell me who said this. She did not like to, she said, as it might get her into trouble. She assured me that no one who knew me would give any credit to the story, and begged me to treat it with the contempt it deserved. A thousand such stories, she said, would not have the least effect upon her regard for me. Indeed, I believe this, and am sure that she is a sincere friend to me. …
Reply.
"My Dear Amy: Why do people hear the uncomplimentary things that malice, envy, jealousy or the mere recklessness of gossiping tongues may invent or circulate about them? It is because they lack dignity of character. They are approachable on all sides. They love the excitement of scandal when it does not touch them personally, and, ten to one, are of that class who, living in 'glass houses,' have the fatal habit of throwing stones.
"This class does not deserve much sympathy, even when they are really maligned; but a helping hand should be extended to those sensitive people who, like you, mean to do right, are honestly opposed to malicious gossip, and yet sometimes fall a victim to it.
"As I am a great many years older than you are, and as my experience has been more varied and severe in many respects than yours is likely to be, I believe I can give you advice that, if heeded, will save you hereafter from any such annoyance as that which you have endured through your 'sincere friend' Mrs. Allen.
"In the first place, you are lacking in dignity of bearing. You are gentle, confiding, and therefore too approachable, or you would never have heard this miserable aspersion of your character. In the second place, having heard it, you should have felt less mortification at the fact that it existed than that any friend could wound you by repeating it to you.
"Take my word for it, Amy, Mrs. Allen is no friend to you. Let me show you why. She is afraid of getting 'into trouble' by giving you the name of the one who slandered you; that is to say, she will not sacrifice the slanderer for your sake.
The slanderer, therefore, is at least as dear a friend of hers as you are. My dear child, do you not see that as she is well known to be on very intimate terms with you, no one would speak ill of you to her except upon the understanding that she would not be hurt by it or resent it?
"Reflect well upon this matter, and I think you will see that I am right; and seeing it will help greatly to develop the dignity of which I have spoken. This quality will guard you from a repetition of your late experience; for when Mrs. Allen or any other friend brings a disparaging tale about you, you will look at her or him with unfeigned surprise, and say, 'Why, I never heard any ill spoken of you! How is it that people do not know that you are my friend?'
"Finally, my dear Amy, I advise you to place conspicuously in your parlor this sentence from the Persian poet Saadi: 'O wise man! wash thy hands of that friend who is in league with thine enemy.'"
