had just detected him in one lie, and feared that he was now telling
her another. "I hope, my dear son," she said, "you are not again
deceiving me." The boy was perfectly honest this time, and his
parents had never before distrusted his word. It almost broke his
heart to be thus suspected, but he felt that it was just, and went to
his chamber and wept bitterly. These are the necessary consequences
of falsehood. A liar can never be believed. It matters not whether he
tells truth or falsehood, no one can trust his word. If you are ever
tempted to tell a lie, first ask yourself whether you are willing to
have it said that nobody can trust your word. The liar is always
known to be such. A person may possibly tell a lie which shall not be
detected, but, almost always something happens which brings it to
light. The boy who stopped to play when on an errand two miles from
his father's house, thought that his falsehood would never be
discovered. But he was detected, and overwhelmed with shame.

It is impossible for a person who is in the habit of uttering
untruths to escape detection. Your character for truth or falsehood
will be known. And what can be more humiliating and degrading than to
have the name of a liar? It is so considered in all nations and with
all people. It is considered one of the meanest and most cowardly
vices of which one can be guilty. The liar is always a coward. He
tells lies, because he is afraid to tell the truth.

And how do you suppose the liar must feel when he comes to die? It
is a solemn hour. Perhaps many of the children who read this book
have never seen a person die. I have seen many. I have seen children
of all ages dressed in the shroud and placed in the coffin. I might
write pages in describing to you such scenes. One day, I went to see
a little girl about ten years of age, who was very sick. When I went