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.

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.

CHAPTER II.

GRIEF OVER YOUNG LIARS.

MR. SAUNDERS was a moral man, strictly honorable in his dealings with his fellow-men. He would have scorned the idea of cheating his patrons, or any one with whom he had to do; because such conduct was, in his opinion, mean and low. For a liar, he had the greatest contempt. Imagine, then, his horror when he found that neither of his daughters had the slightest regard for truth.

On one occasion he brought home a valuable book of engravings, lent him by a friend. For a few days, he was so much occupied, he had no time to examine it; but when he did, he found almost every page marred by marks of dirty fingers. Mortified and chagrined, he called, first, Alice and then Ellen, and holding up the volume, demanded an explanation. They both denied having touched the book, or even having seen it, and looked in his face, as they repeated the assertion, with such unblushing effrontery, he could not believe them to be the guilty ones.

A few days later, he met a young man at the bookstore who was on intimate terms in his family. Mr. Saunders was about purchasing a duplicate of the volume which had been so mysteriously injured, when the other remarked,—

"I told Ellen it was dangerous to handle a valuable book while eating fruit."

"What do you mean?" inquired the gentleman, a bright flush spreading all over his face. "Did you see Ellen with a book like this?"

The young man laughed.

"I had no idea I was telling tales," he said; "but I happened in one day when you were not at home. The girls were earnest in their admiration of the engravings, and in her zeal, Ellen pulled it from her sister, though her hands were half full of fruit. Ask them; they will tell you about it."

The father opened his pocket-book, laid down the price of the volume, and walked out of the store without another word. Perhaps in all the years since his wife died, he had never so forcibly realized the responsibility which rested upon him as he did during that short walk. What adepts in lying his daughters must have become, when they could so entirely deceive him! His boy, too,—there was no knowing how soon he would follow their example. Before he reached his own steps, his eyes seemed for the first time open to the fact that Aunt Clarissa, however excellent a housekeeper, was not equal to the moral training of his children.

On entering the house, he sent for his daughters, and was deeply pained to see how readily they reiterated the falsehood, and, even when he convinced them he was aware of the fact that they had deceived him, how little shame they exhibited at the detection. Indeed, they did not feel that they had committed a grave offence, nor realize that not only had they deceived a kind, indulgent parent, but had violated one of God's holy commands, "Lie not one to another."

A sharp pang shot through the heart of Mr. Saunders, as he remembered how entirely he had neglected to teach his children their accountability to God. After a few words to them, expressing his horror of their crime, he dismissed them abruptly, and passed the next hour in forming resolutions for the future. He realized, for the first time,—because circumstances had not heretofore brought the subject before him,—that if they went on as they were now going, with no counter-influences to check their impulses, they would be ruined. Something must be done, and that at once, to change their whole course of conduct.

If Mr. Saunders had been a Christian father, he would have reasoned differently. He would have said, "My children are by nature sinful; the seeds of corruption have begun to take root, and must be exterminated. The grace of God and the constant instructions of his holy word alone can do this. I will give them line upon line, and precept upon precept, and pray for God's blessing upon the result."

But, as it was, he saw the evil, yet was puzzled as to the cure. That night but little sleep came to his pillow, and the morning dawned with only one advance upon the doubts of the preceding day, and that was a resolve to consult a friend, who had several daughters of her own, as to the course he had better pursue.

Mrs. Peters was a woman of the world. It was her ambition that her children should excel and shine in society. She therefore was unwearied in her devotion to what she considered their best interests. She would have thought it a sin to omit one of their studies, or to remit an hour of their daily penance of sitting with their feet in the stocks, with their arms tightly braced back to give grace and vigor to their frames. They were to be outwardly polished and beautiful; but she had not given a thought to the fashioning of their souls in the image of their Saviour. She condoled with Mr. Saunders, as to the state of perplexity in which he found himself, and advised him at once to send Alice to a fashionable boarding school, where she would be taught every accomplishment, and where, of course, she would soon learn that lying and all those things were very low and unladylike.

Though not entirely convinced by her reasoning, Mr. Saunders determined to follow her advice, and in less than a month, Alice became a member of Mrs. Lerow's celebrated school for young ladies, where for the present we shall leave her.

Now that his attention had once been directed to the subject, the gentleman watched closely his other daughter, and was pained to perceive that, with many fine traits, she was growing up not only a liar, but passionate and self-willed. It was evident she needed a firm, careful hand to direct her physical and moral training for a few years.

Mrs. Saunders's sister was married and lived fifty miles in the country. It had been her habit; ever since her sister's death, to visit her brother-in-law once in a few years; and just at this time, she wrote announcing her intention of spending a week in the city. The gentleman was intensely relieved.

"She is just the person," he said to himself, "to have the charge of Ellen. I wonder it did not occur to me before. It will be the saving of the child, if her aunt will consent to take her."

Mrs. Collins had not been in the house many days, before she agreed with her brother that his children needed a mother's careful, judicious management. Ellen, ardent, impulsive as she was, had always been her favorite; but she was deeply grieved to see how entirely the child was wanting in moral and religious principle.

When Mr. Saunders first mentioned his wish of sending his daughter home with her to remain for an indefinite period, she shrank from so great a responsibility; but after making it a subject of prayer and direction from her Father in heaven, she thought here was an opportunity to do good which ought not to be neglected, even though it involved great personal sacrifices.

There were some conditions, however, which she insisted upon as essential to the well-being of Ellen. She should be entirely under her aunt's influence, not even visiting home until her present habits of deceit were so far eradicated that she would not be likely to return to them; and that Mr. Saunders would co-operate with her in everything she considered essential for the good of the child.

Ellen, herself, was in raptures at the proposed change. Mrs. Collins prolonged her visit another week, in order that the necessary preparations might be completed, and as, in the mean time, she accompanied the lady on her shopping expeditions, and in many instances had her own taste consulted in the choice of her dress, she expressed herself as more happy than she had ever been in her life.

CHAPTER III.

ONE LIE LEADS TO ANOTHER.

BEFORE she left the city, Mrs. Collins remonstrated with her brother upon the course of indulgence he was pursuing with Joseph, assuring him that, if he persevered in it, the result might be more fatal even than in the case of his daughters.

With all due respect to the excellencies of Aunt Clarissa, she explained to him that her influence over the child was very injurious indeed; that the lady was completely governed by him, and, except by her words, never enforced, did not oppose him in anything. He paid no more attention to her constant reminder:

"Joseph, don't let me know you to do so again!

"Joseph Saunders, I forbid you to go to my drawers!"

Than he did to the sighing and moaning of the autumnal wind. She recommended that he be placed in a good school, where, for six hours every day, he be under a proper influence and restraint, or that a private governess be taken into the house.

How many times, in after years, did Mr. Saunders regret he had not acted upon this last piece of advice!

Mrs. Collins resided in a quiet country town. Her husband was a physician, and kept a small shop of medicines more for the convenience of his neighbors than from any advantage which accrued to himself. They had one son, who was at an academy pursuing studies preparatory to entering college, and a daughter one year older than Alice.

There was but one church and society in the whole village, over which the Reverend Mr. Allen had been settled for a score of years.

The district schoolhouse, where Mr. Collins's children had been thoroughly taught the rudiments of knowledge, was but a short distance from their home and to this the lady determined to send her niece.