But at the supper table these same shameless marms made an awful fuss over the country boys, thoroughly disgusting their city friends. Their hypocrisy and duplicity and deceitfulness was actually sickening to those city people who expected far greater honor and more stability of character in women capable of teaching school. How much better for these deceitful girls to have remained silent on the subject of their escorts, after receiving and accepting favors from them, and pretending that they were delighted with their society. They have now lowered themselves in the estimation of those friends who witnessed their hypocrisy to such an extent that they can never reinstate themselves again. Nobody likes a hypocrite, no difference how handsome or brilliant they may be. The honest, sincere and truthful girl is always respected and admired and loved. Twenty years ago a young school teacher of my acquaintance was teaching out on the mountain, and to get taken home and back again to her boarding house, she pretended to be very fond of a young mountaineer who owned a horse and sleigh and buggy. The poor fellow fell desperately in love with her and she encouraged him, but when the school term was ended she took advantage of the first opportunity to insult him and throw him over, with as little feeling as though he had been a worn-out shoe. She afterwards married a young man not half so honorable as the young mountaineer, whom she jilted so cruelly. He deserted her ten years ago, leaving her a family of helpless children and a broken heart. “As you sow, so shall you reap.” There is no more dangerous game to play than to play hypocrite. No one means to become hardened in the game, but it grows on a person and poisons all the nobler impulses of the soul, and as age advances, the face hardens and every line in the countenance tells the secret thoughts that have always haunted the mind. The hypocrite cannot hide her sins from the trained eye of the observer, and the world is unforgiving toward the deceptive soul. THE GIANT PINE Standing on a gentle slope With outstretched arms, With an air of vanished hope But still retaining charms Of glories past and gone; Of beauty most divine, Standing there alone— The giant pine. No companion tree is near Of the dead and vanished past; They have fallen, year by year— This giant is the last; And it wears a look of age Ten times the sum of nine; Of trees it is the sage— This giant pine. Around its feet there stands The modern scrubby trees, Looking up to outstretched hands, That tremble in the breeze Like priest who offers prayer To heaven’s throne divine, With outstretched arms so bare, The giant pine.