license to spin such yarns as he does, to his young shipmates on the
forward deck. He has cruised half a dozen years after whales, in the
Pacific ocean, and, of course, has seen some sights that are worth speaking
of. But that is no reason why he should fill the head of that young fellow
sitting on a coil of rope with a hundred cock-and-bull stories, that have
scarcely a word of truth in them, from beginning to end. Why, he don't
pretend to tell stories without stretching the truth.

I know some boys, too, who seem to find it very difficult to relate any
incident as it took place. They are so much in the habit of stretching the
truth, in fact, that those who are acquainted with them seldom believe more
than half of one of their stories. These boys, however, have not the
slightest intention, when they are pulling out a foot into a yard, of doing
any thing wrong. Very possibly they think they are telling a pretty
straight story. Habits are strong, you know--especially bad habits. Just
look at Selden Mason, one of the best-natured boys I ever saw, and who has
not got an enemy among all his school-mates; it is wonderful what a
truth-stretcher he has got to be. Every boy shakes his head, when he hears
a great story, and says it sounds like one of Selden's yarns. And yet be is
so particular and minute in relating any thing, sometimes, that one who did
not know him would not suspect him of treating the truth so badly. His
apparent sincerity reminds me of an anecdote related of another boy, who
had this habit worse than Selden has, I should think. The boy remarked that
his father once killed ninety-nine crows at a single shot! He was asked why
he did not say a hundred, and have done with it. The fellow was indignant.
"Do you think I would tell a lie for one crow?" said he!

Selden Mason's habit of truth-stretching has got such a hold of him now,
that you can perceive the marks of it in almost every thing he says. I have
sometimes been half sorry he was so good a boy in other respects; for, as