CHAPTER IX.

THE FATHER OF LIES.

BUT where all this time was Joseph, with whose story we commenced this book. In accordance with his aunt's advice, he had been sent to a day-school, and was, therefore, for six hours of every day under wholesome restraint. Miss Sanborn, an excellent young teacher, well-calculated to win not only the love but the respect of her pupils, soon discovered his habit of lying, and took every pains to correct it. But, young as he was, his lips had so thoroughly learned deceit that she could make no impression upon him.

Every day, at the close of the school, the children were required to give in their report as to their own conduct, or the teacher would ask them like this:—

"Joseph, have you whispered?"

"No, ma'am," was his invariable reply.

"In how many lessons have you been perfect?"

"In every one."

Even though he had repeatedly been sent to his seat to commit his lesson more thoroughly, he would not confess he had failed.

In vain she told him of his sin, and explained to him that he gained nothing by his lies; for a liar is not believed even when he speaks the truth. In vain she illustrated her meaning by stories from the Bible, and from her own observation; the habit had been formed almost before he could speak.

Aunt Clarissa lied to him when she told him the medicine was not bitter, and laughed, after he had swallowed it, at her success in deceiving him. Margaret lied when she promised to sit by him all the evening, and then slipped away when he had fallen asleep. Even his father lied when he threatened to punish disobedience to his commands, and then failed to execute the threat.

One day, when Joseph had been more than usually unruly and then insisted that he had broken no rules, the teacher detained him after the scholars were dismissed and tried to point out the wickedness of his conduct.

"Do you know, Joseph, who is the father of lies?" she asked, seriously.

"No, ma'am."

"It is the devil; who, the Bible says, goes about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour."

"I never saw him, so I guess he don't come to this town," the boy answered timidly.

"Yes, he has been in this room this afternoon. He was close by your elbow and whispered in your ear when you pinched Tommy and when you made such times at little Ellen, who complained that you had torn her book. And he was there again when you told me you had been a good boy. Didn't you hear the good spirit whispering, 'Oh, Joseph, don't tell a lie! God wont like it?' You have been very naughty indeed. It makes my heart ache when I remember that God, who never lies, who never in any way deceives us, has said, 'All liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone.'"

Joseph's attention was arrested. He was a bright boy, not wanting in quickness and apprehension, and after a moment's reflection, he said,—

"My Sister Ellen used to tell lies; but now she never does; Aunt Collins wrote about it. When I'm as large as Ellen, I shall leave off."

"But, my poor boy," cried the lady, tears filling her eyes, "you may not live to be as old; you may die this very night. Will you promise me you will try to be a truthful boy?"

He nodded his head.

A few days after this, Joseph ran and jumped on his father's knee.

"Papa, I want six cents," he exclaimed earnestly.

"What for, my dear?"

"To buy a new top. Eddie Lawson has one, and I want one like it."

The indulgent father gave him the money with a smile.

Joseph, however, had no idea of buying a top. He had been with his companion that morning into a store and had seen some cocoanuts of which he was very fond. He was sure if he asked for money to buy a cocoanut, he would be refused, because they always made him sick. He thought a cocoanut very cheaply obtained when he had only to tell one lie for it.

In the night, Mr. Saunders was aroused by a stealthy step coming into his chamber, and presently by Aunt Clarissa's voice saying,—

"Joseph seems very sick. I think you had better call the doctor."

The physician came just after the child had thrown from his stomach a quantity of indigestible matter.

"He has been in dreadful pain all night," remarked his aunt, who was holding his head.

"Well, he'll die one of these days, if you are not more careful what he eats," said the doctor, dryly. "He's had cocoanut again, which is rank poison to him."

"Joseph, have you eaten any cocoanut?" asked his father. "Tell me the truth, my boy, and I'll forgive you this time."

He shook his head.

"Pshaw, it's no use to try and deceive me," added the doctor, sternly. "Here it is in the basin."

With a groan of pain, the child commenced vomiting again.

"I should really like to know how much he ate," said the physician, pointing to pieces of the indigested food.

"I gave him money yesterday, to buy a top," gravely remarked Mr. Saunders. "He must have spent it for this."

"I didn't!" cried Joseph. "I didn't eat any!"

After administering a simple quietive, Dr. Long turned away, and, motioning the father from the room, said, abruptly,—

"Your boy will end his days on the gallows, if you don't correct his habit of lying."

As soon as Joseph was well, his father, having ascertained from the grocer that he had bought a cocoanut at his store, gave him a more severe punishing than he had ever received in his life, to make up for which Aunt Clarissa ordered the cook to bake him a nice little loaf of frosted cake, richly filled with raisins and citron.

The room where Joseph attended school was situated on one of the principal streets, just opposite a druggist's store. The front windows with their immense panes of cut glass, behind which were large jars filled with colored liquid presented a most attractive appearance, and Joseph, in common with his other companions, often paused in front of them.

The only objection Miss Sanborn had to her schoolroom was, that there was no yard adjoining, where the pupils could exercise at recess; and thus they were obliged to play in the street. Throwing ball was strictly forbidden, and rolling hoop was inconvenient to passengers, so that it required considerable invention to devise plays which would not be objectionable.

Among his companions there was not one Joseph liked so well as Dexter Russel, a boy near his own age, who resided in the same block. This child, the son of watchful Christian parents, was a lad of ardent temperament and quick passions, but of generous, noble impulses, and perfectly truthful. If, as often happened, he had been guilty of breaking his teacher's rules, when questioned concerning it:

"Dexter, did you whisper? Did you take a book without permission?"

His cheek would flush, and his eye be cast down, but he would reply frankly,—

"Yes, I did."

Joseph and Dexter had each of them a hard India-rubber ball, with which they sometimes amused themselves out of school-hours.

One afternoon, Miss Sanborn, having an engagement, hurried to her boarding-place, the moment her little ones were dismissed, leaving some of the boys in the street near the schoolroom.

"Don't go home yet," exclaimed Dexter. "Let's play awhile."

Joseph readily agreed, and each taking out his ball, they commenced throwing them upon the pavement, eager to see who could catch it, when it bounded, and keep it from falling longer than the other.

"Go away from here!" called out the druggist, coming to the door. "That's a dangerous game so near the windows."

The boys ran farther along, but presently, in the excitement of the play, ran back again laughing in great glee as they followed their balls.

But suddenly their mirth ceased. In order not to lose his throw, when a lady was passing him, Joseph unconsciously drew nearer the window, and, with a loud crash, the ball went through the large pane of glass into the druggist's shop.

The man rushed angrily to the door just in time to see Joseph running for home as fast as he could go, while Dexter, pale with fright, was gazing at the broken glass.

"Did you do that?" asked the merchant in a stern, excited voice.

"No, sir, it was not my ball; here is mine," said the lad, looking the man full in the face; "but it's my fault, though."

This reply so astonished the incensed druggist that he asked, in a less angry tone, "What do you mean?"

[Illustration: "No, sir, it was not my ball."]

"I asked him to play, sir. I'm real sorry! He was going home, but I asked him to play."

"Well, but who's to pay for my glass?"

"I'll give you all my spending money, sir!" cried Dexter, his cheeks flushing. "Will it cost a great deal, sir?"

"Yes, more than you'd have in a good many years. You know I told you to go away," he added, softening, as he saw the distressed, eager face looking into his so wistfully; "and I can't afford to buy glass for boys to break."

Dexter choked, but did not speak for a moment; at length he said,—

"My father promised to buy me a magic-lantern; would the money that would cost pay for it?"

Instead of answering, the man inquired,—

"Who was that boy with you?"

"Joseph Saunders."

"And he threw the ball?"

"Yes, sir; but he didn't mean to."

"Why didn't he come and say so, as you did?"

"I suppose he was afraid, sir," replied the boy, hesitating.

"Well, you may go now; and remember, I forgive your part of the blame because you so courageously confessed the truth."

The same evening, Joseph was sitting near his father, talking and laughing, when a ring of the door-bell summoned Mr. Saunders from the room. He came back presently, however, followed by the druggist's clerk, who said at once,—

"That's the boy, sir."

The father frowned, looked again at the bill, "For damages, one pane of cut glass, twenty dollars," and then turning to his son, said,—

"Why can't you learn to confide in your father? Why didn't you tell me what, you had done, Joseph?"

There was no reply.

"Haven't I forbidden you to throw a ball in the street? And now here is a bill of twenty dollars because you didn't obey me!"

"Who says I threw a ball?" Joseph's voice trembled.

"My master says so, and the boy playing with you saw you too."

"Tell the truth, Joseph; did you do it?" Mr. Saunders's voice was so stern the boy began to cry.

"No, sir, I didn't; it was Dexter. He asked me to play with him, and then his ball went right into the window."

With a sickening dread lest his only son was again deceiving him, the gentleman said,—

"Tell your master I will see to this in the morning. If my boy broke it, I shall, of course, pay for it; but I wish first to be sure of the fact."

As soon as the clerk was gone, Mr. Saunders took Joseph and went to Mr. Russel's. Dexter was just going to bed; but, at the gentleman's request, was called back to the parlor.

The father, who was closely watching his boy, saw that when his companion entered, smiling frankly, he looked very much confused.

"I want you to tell me all about Mr. K—'s glass. How did it happen to be broken?" said Mr. Saunders, after having cordially shaken the child's hand.

Dexter, without a moment's hesitation, and with his eye fixed on the gentleman's face, repeated minutely the events of the afternoon. Every word of which carried positive conviction of its truthfulness to the father's heart.

He looked at Joseph, when the story was finished, with such an expression of anger and contempt that the boy began to cry. At last he sobbed out,—

"I shouldn't have thought of playing if he hadn't asked me!"

The doctor's warning flashed across Mr. Saunders's mind but, making an effort to control himself, he patted Dexter's head fondly, saying, "You are a noble boy," and then, followed by Joseph, took his leave.