when first descried at sea,--massive and solid, yet resting on air.

It would appear, then, that there is something in truth, though but
seen in the dim shadow of relation, that enforces interest,--and, so
it be without pain, at least some degree of pleasure; which, however
slight, is not unimportant, as presenting an impassable barrier to the
mere animal. We must not, however, be understood as claiming for this
Relative Truth the power of exciting a pleasurable interest in
all possible cases; there are exceptions, as in the horrible, the
loathsome, &c., which under no condition can be otherwise than
revolting. It is enough for our purpose, to have shown that its effect
is in most cases similar to that we have ascribed to Truth absolute.

But objections are the natural adversaries of every adventurer: there
is one in our path which we soon descried at our first setting
out. And we find it especially opposed to the assertion respecting
children; namely, that between two things, where there is no personal
advantage to bias the decision, they will always choose that which
seems to them true, rather than the other which appears false. To
this is opposed the notorious fact of the remarkable propensity which
children have to lying. This is readily admitted; but it does not meet
us, unless it can be shown that they have not in the act of lying an
eye to its _reward_,--setting aside any outward advantage,--in
the shape of self-complacent thought at their superior wit or
ingenuity. Now it is equally notorious, that such secret triumph will
often betray itself by a smile, or wink, or some other sign from
the chuckling urchin, which proves any thing but that the lie was
gratuitous. No, not even a child can love a lie purely for its own
sake; he would else love it in another, which is against fact. Indeed,
so far from it, that, long before he can have had any notion of what