Such was the effect of Lady Delaval's kind efforts, on a mother so teaching, and a daughter so taught; for indelible indeed are those habits of falsehood and disingenuousness which children acquire, whose parents do not make a strict adherence to truth the basis of their children's education; and punish all deviation from it with salutary rigour. But, whatever be the excellences or the errors of parents or preceptors, there is one necessary thing for them to remember, or their excellences will be useless, and their faults irremediable; namely, that they are not to form their children for the present world alone;-they are to educate them not merely as the children of time but as the heirs of eternity. CHAPTER IV. LIES OF FEAR. I ONCE believed that the lie of fear was confined to the low and uneducated of both sexes, and to children; but further reflection and observation have convinced me that this is by no means the case; but that, as this lie springs from the want of moral courage, and as this defect is by no means confined to any class or age, the result of it, that fear of man which prompts to the lie of fear, must be universal also; though the nature of the dread may be various, and of different degrees of strength. For instance; a child or a servant (of course I speak of ill-educated children) breaks a toy or a glass, and denies having done so. Acquaintances forget to execute commissions intrusted to them; and either say that they are executed, when they are not, or make some false excuses for an omission which was the result of forgetfulness only. No persons are guilty of so many of this sort of lies, in the year, as negligent correspondents; since excuses for not writing sooner are usually lies of fear-fear of having forfeited favour by too long a silence. As the lie of fear always proceeds, as I have before observed, from a want of moral courage, it is often the result of want of resolution to say "no," when "yes" is more agreeable to the feelings of the questioner. "Is not my new gown pretty?" "Is not my new hat becoming ?" "Is not my coat of a good colour?" There are few persons who have courage to say "no," even to these trivial questions; though the negative would be truth, and the affirmative, falsehood. And still less are they able to be honest in their replies to questions of a more delicate nature. "Is not my last work the best?" "Is not my wife beautiful?” " Is not my daughter agreeable ?" " Is not my son a fine youth?" -those ensnaring questions, which contented and confiding egotism is only too apt to ask. Fear of wounding the feelings of the interrogator, prompts an affirmative answer. But, perhaps, a lie on these occasions is one of the least displeasing, because it may possibly proceed from a kind aversion to give pain, and occasion disappointment; and has a degree of relationship, a distant family resemblance, to the LIE OF BENEVOLENCE ; though, when accurately analysed, even this goodnatured falsehood may be resolved into selfish dread of losing favour by speaking the truth. Of these pseudo-lies of benevolence I shall treat in their turn; but I shall now proceed to relate a story, to illustrate THE LIE OF FEAR, and its important results, under apparently unimportant cir cumstances. THE BANK NOTE. "Are you returning immediately to Worcester?" said Lady Leslie, a widow residing near that city, to a young officer who was paying her a morning visit." I am; can I do any thing for you there?" -"Yes; you can do me a great kindness. My confidential servant, Baynes, is gone out for the day and night; and I do not like to trust my new footman, of whom I know nothing, to put this letter in the post-office, as it contains a fifty-pound note."-" Indeed! that is a large sum to trust to the post."-" Yes; but I am told it is the safest conveyance. It is, however, quite necessary that a person whom I can trust should put the letter in the box."-" Certainly," replied Captain Freeland. Then, with an air that showed he considered himself as a person to be trusted, he deposited the letter in safety in his pocket book, and took leave: promising he would return to dinner the next day which was Saturday. On his road, Freeland met some of his brotherofficers, who were going so pass the day and night at Great Malvern; and as they earnestly pressed him to accompany them, he wholly forgot the letter entrusted to his care; and, having despatched : 1 his servant to Worcester, for his sac-de-nuit* and other things, he turned back with his companions, and passed the rest of the day in that sauntering but amusing idleness, that dolce far niente, which may be reckoned comparatively virtuous, if it leads to the forgetfulness of little duties only, and is not attended by the positive infringement of greater ones. But, in not putting this important letter into the post, as he had engaged to do, Freeland violated a real duty; and he might have put it in at Malvern, had not the rencounter with his brother-officers banished the commission given him entirely from his thoughts. Nor did he remember it till, as they rode through the village the next morning, on their way to Worcester, they met Lady Leslie walking in the road. At sight of her, Freeland recollected with shame and confusion that he had not fulfilled the charge committed to him; and fain would he have passed her unobserved; for, as she was a woman of high fashion, great talents, and some severity, he was afraid that his negligence, if avowed, would not only cause him to forfeit her favour, but expose him to her powerful sarcasm. To avoid being recognised was, however, impossible; and as soon as Lady Leslie saw him, she exclaimed, "Oh! Captain Freeland, I am so glad to see you? I have been quite uneasy concerning my letter since I gave it to your care ; for it was of such consequence! Did you put it into the post yesterday?" Certainly," replied Freeland, hastily, and in the hurry of the moment, "Certainly. How could you, dear Madam, doubt my obedience to your commands?""Thank you! thank you!" cried she, "How 66 * Night bag. † Sweet doing nothing. you have relieved my mind!" He had so; but be had painfully burthened his own. To be sure it was only a white lie, -the LIE OF FEAR. Still he was not used to utter falsehood; and he felt the meanness and degradation of this. He had yet to learn that it was mischievous also; and that none can presume to say where the consequences of the most apparently trivial lie will end. As soon as Freeland parted with Lady Leslie, he bade his friends farewell, and, putting spur to his horse, scarcely slackened his pace till he had reached a general post-office, and deposited the letter in safety. "Now, then," thought he, " I hope I shall be able to return and dine with Lady Leslie, without shrinking from her penetrating eye." He found her when he arrived, very pensive and absent; so much so, that she felt it necessary to apologize to her guests, informing them that Mary Benson, an old servant of hers, who was very dear to her, was seriously ill, and painfully circumstanced; and that she feared she had not done her duty by her. "To tell you the truth, Captain Freeland," said she, speaking to him in a low voice, “I blame myself for not having sent for my confidential servant, who was not very far off, and despatched him with the money, instead of trusting it to the post."" It would have been better to have done so, certainly!" replied Freeland, deeply blushing. "Yes; for the poor woman, to whom I sent it, is not only herself on the point of being confined, but she has a sick husband, unable to be moved; and as (but owing to no fault of his) he is on the point of bankruptcy, his cruel landlord has declared that, if they do not pay their rent by to-morrow, he will turn them out into the street, and seize the very bed |