Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
WHITE AND BLACK LIES:
OR,
_Truth Better than Falsehood._
BY
MRS. MADELINE LESLIE
AUTHOR OF "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," AND
OTHER SABBATH-SCHOOL BOOKS.
_"Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord; but they that deal truly
are his delight."_
BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY IRA BRADLEY & CO.
162 WASHINGTON STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
HENRY HOYT,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of
Massachusetts.
PREFACE.
THE Bible ranks truthfulness among the cardinal virtues. Perfect
veracity is a prominent element of a good character, lying at the
foundation of permanent success and of enviable fame. Yet, from
the prevalence of a passion for the marvellous, the temptations
are numerous in our age and country to the practice of the arts of
deception.
The thought of these exposures of the young has recently revived my
early recollection of the excellent treatise on lying, by Mrs. Opie, a
book which I read in childhood with the liveliest interest, and which
has deepened my conviction of the desirableness of a work expressing
similar sentiments, but more fully illustrated and enforced by the
teachings of the Bible.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. FIRST LESSONS IN LYING
CHAPTER II. GRIEF OVER YOUNG LIARS
CHAPTER III. ONE LIE LEADS TO ANOTHER
CHAPTER IV. TROUBLE FROM LYING
CHAPTER V. THE LIAR DETECTED
CHAPTER VI. FASHIONABLE LIES
CHAPTER VII. SCHOOL LIES
CHAPTER VIII. THE LIAR ABANDONED
CHAPTER IX. THE FATHER OF LIES
CHAPTER X. THE LIAR'S DEATH
CHAPTER XI. LYING CURED
CHAPTER XII. LIES OF MALIGNITY
CHAPTER XIII. LIES OF POLITENESS
CHAPTER XIV. LIES OF TRADE
CHAPTER XV. LIES OF CONVENIENCE
CHAPTER XVI. LIES OF AUTHORSHIP
CHAPTER XVII. LYING CONTAGIOUS
CHAPTER XVIII. PARTY LIES
CHAPTER XIX. THE ART OF LYING
CHAPTER XX. LIES ABOUT RELIGION
CHAPTER XXI. CLERICAL LIES
CHAPTER XXII. REWARD OF TRUTHFULNESS
CHAPTER XXIII. END OF TRUTH AND OF LYING
WHITE AND BLACK LIES.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
FIRST LESSONS IN LYING.
"JOSEPH SAUNDERS, take those glasses off this very minute! How many
times have I told you never to touch my things!" Nevertheless, Aunt
Clarissa laughed heartily.
"They aren't yours," answered the boy, saucily. "They're father's, and
he says I may take them just as much as I have a mind to."
"Take care, Joseph; when your conscience gives a twinge like that, you
had better recall your resolutions about lying."
Joseph Saunders was a motherless boy. His father was a master mason;
that is, he did not work himself; but kept a number of men, who did the
jobs, while he superintended them, to be sure the work was right. This
is a very profitable business, and by it Mr. Saunders had become quite
a rich man. He lived in a handsome house, in a street overlooking a
pleasant park which in summer was filled with beautiful flowers. He had
three children,—two daughters and one son.
Alice, the elder, was fifteen, and was away from home at a boarding
school. Ellen was three years younger, and still remained with her
father. Joseph, the baby, as his sisters teasingly called him, was but
six, though he insisted he was old enough to wear suspenders, and have
a watch-pocket.
Mrs. Saunders died when Joseph was little more than a year old, so
that he could not remember her. But he had so often heard his father
describe her sweet smile, her dark loving eyes, her broad polished
forehead, over which her shining hair was so smoothly parted, that it
seemed to him, he could remember her, and that when he went to heaven,
he should know her at once. Then her voice, which his father told him
was low and musical, like the chiming of silver bells, he often heard
in his dreams. Sometimes he awoke, calling her, and it was difficult to
convince him that she had not stood by his side, and that it was only a
dream.
Soon after his mother died, Aunt Clarissa came to take care of the
children, and to direct the servants in her nephew's family. Though
aunt to Mr. Saunders, Miss Clarissa was only ten years older than he
was, and would have felt quite insulted, had she even suspected that
she was not considered a young lady. She was a very good housekeeper.
The upper shelves in the china closet were always filled with jars of
jelly and sweetmeats, neatly covered with white paper, and tied with
pink cord. Her sponge cake, custards, and Washington pies, always
came out of the oven done to a turn, and exactly the right shade of
brown; and as to her waffles, why, nobody who had eaten Miss Clarissa's
waffles ever expected to make any equal to them! So light, so rich, and
covered with just the right quantity of butter and sugar.
Mr. Saunders was fond of inviting his friends to dinner, and this at
first annoyed his aunt, who disliked hurry or confusion, such as the
sudden appearance of a guest was likely to occasion; but she gradually
became accustomed to this, and to all her duties, and even grew quite
fond of being seated at the head of a luxuriously spread table, richly
ornamented with its display of silver, china, and cut glass.
In the laundry, too, Miss Clarissa was quite as successful as in the
china closet. The making up, as she called it, of her nephew's shirts
was both her pride and delight; while her own laces—I do not say caps;
she would consider me very presuming to hint that she wore caps—and her
niece's muslins were the envy of all who saw them. Then this good lady
was skilled in all kinds of preparations for the sick. Few, even of
well persons, could refuse her chicken-broth or beef-tea; and those who
came on to the sick list were willing to try her senna, her jalap, or
her thoroughwort, for the sake of the delicacies which accompanied them.
If any one person in the world was neater than every other, that person
was Aunt Clarissa. The least particle of dust on the furniture, or
on the heavy mouldings; the slightest variation in the width of the
snow-white sheet when it was turned down over the smoothly-spread
counterpane; the tiniest speck upon the shining silver, or on the large
panes of glass in the windows, was sure to attract her attention; and
woe be to the servant who had so shamefully neglected her duty.
So far then as her housekeeping was concerned, Miss Saunders was every
way calculated to render her nephew's family exceedingly comfortable;
but I am very sorry to say, she was in no ways adapted to educate his
children. In the first place, she had no fixed principles for the
regulation of her own conduct. To be sure she did occasionally, on a
stormy Sabbath, read her Bible; and she had heard of the inspired rule,
"Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will
not depart from it;" but she had little idea of the literal meaning of
the old-fashioned precept. So far as she had any rule, it was this:
"Train up a child to have his own way, and when he is old he will be a
model of perfection."
The first part of this adage she certainly carried out. Alice, Ellen,
and particularly Joseph, were trained to have their own way in every
particular. If the little dears chose to obey her, and overload their
stomachs with her rich dainties, well and good. If they disobeyed her
commands, quarrelled, went on the damp ground with thin shoes, talked
impudently to the servants, or told what was not true,—why, such
follies must be expected from children. Does not even the Bible say,
children go astray as soon as they are born?
Whether Miss Clarissa's training was such as to make her nieces and
nephews honor their father, and her who took the place of a mother;
whether it would render them "kindly affectionate one to another;"
whether it would make them lovers of truth; whether it would cause them
to become ornaments of society, loving their Creator, and endeavoring
to serve him,—we shall see as we proceed with their history.
Alice was called a handsome child. She had small regular features, a
pink and white complexion, and an abundance of soft, light hair, which
waved over her cheeks and neck. Her eyes were blue, but of so light a
shade, that they had the appearance of being faded. In disposition,
she was naturally amiable; and under judicious training, such as her
mother, had she lived, might have exercised, was capable of making a
useful, agreeable, but never a strong, character.
Ellen was the exact opposite of her sister, both in person and
disposition. She was a brunette, with dark flashing eyes, a low
forehead, and somewhat wide but laughing mouth. She was warm and
enthusiastic in her temperament, to a degree which astonished every
member of the family; strong and unyielding in her prejudices, keenly
alive to all the weaknesses of Aunt Clarissa's character, and ready
to take advantage of them for her own benefit. Being a very positive
character, she soon exercised a most decided influence over her more
yielding sister, and though three years younger, until Alice left for
school, was almost always appealed to in cases of doubt.
"Would you go to church? Would you wear that? Do you think this hat
looks well?"
If Alice was invited to go to a party, it took her a long time to
decide whether she would send a note of acceptance or regret; whether
she cared enough about it, to take the trouble to dress. In the midst
of her queries and uncertainties, Ellen would come in, and with her
decided, "I shall go," or "I shall not go," put an end at once to the
controversy.
Alice, without proper training, would become a negative, indolent young
lady; Ellen, an obstinate, self-willed, and passionate one.
From the many years of difference between Ellen and Joseph, an infant
brother having died between their ages, the boy was always petted and
indulged by all. He was what would be called a smart child, and his
sayings and doings were repeated and laughed at, until it was not
strange, he considered himself a wonderful personage.
It was Joseph's great ambition to be old; and if money could have
purchased him a dozen years, he would have given those around him no
peace until he had added them to his life; but as even Aunt Clarissa,
with all her desire that he should be gratified, could neither increase
his stature, nor present him the moon for a toy—he was obliged to
content himself with aping the dress and manners of a man. With this
intent, he would often steal into his father's bedroom, and, arraying
himself in stock and collar, would then mount his father's glasses on
his nose, seize his cane, and with a rude, swaggering air saunter into
the parlors.
"Joseph Saunders! I do believe there never was such a mischievous
child!" Aunt Clarissa would exclaim. "How dare you take a clean collar,
sir!" But at the same time, she would join most heartily in the shout
of mirth with which his appearance was greeted by the others.