Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (July 1, 1881)
July, 1881. THE WEST SHORE AS EASY AS LYIXC. RUM From my youth upward I hnve al ways had tut extreme reverence for truth, with a corresponding contempt for falsehood. This admiration for truth wai not an innate virtue, but was one carefully inculcated by my respected father, who, a toon as my understand ing was ripe enough to grasp hi mean ing, constantly repeated this celebrated maxim: "Tell the truth and shame the devil." I am not sure that the mere reiteration of these' word would have had the desired effect upon my infantile mind bad not any slight diver gence on my part from the principles they arc supposed to teach been invari ably followed by severe flagellation. As I grew older, and thought more, two things about this maxim nud its enunciator occupied much of my mcdi tations: Firstly, why telling the truth should shame the devil (a point upon which even now I have arrived at no satisfactory conclusion); ar.d secondly, why, when such nrimirahle precept was always on my father's lips, he did not enforce it by example; for he certainly was the greatest well exaggcralor, to put it respectfully it was ever my fate to encounter. He this as it may, I grew up the very embodiment of truth; nnd never did any, even the slightest, devi ation from its path sully my lips or my thoughts until after I was engaged to be married. Circumstances which I shall relate then hurried me into a very whirlwind of falsehood, the result f which was nearly to destroy my fair name, and all my hoc or happiness. I resided in the county town of X where my father, and my grandfather, and Heaven knows how many genera tionsof my ancestors, hod resided before me : in truth, in a true spirit of conserva tism, I continued to reside there simply because they had, not from any partic ular advantages held out by the place itself: and 1 became, at the aire of twenty-four, matrimonially contracted to the sister of my college chum, Charles Darley. To enter into a description of the charms of my intended would lie foreign to my story. He kind enough to take it for granted that she was per fection in every particular, but one she told fib: ana on this point we had many dispute site, as a general rule acknowledging her fault, and promising better behavior lor the future. One day. after some graver pecca dillo than usual of this description, 1 read Annie a long and severe lecture n her evil propensity. I pointed out flrst, its immorality, then its meannes, as uscleMne, as being invariably dis covered. 4 "There was nothing clever in for any body, however weak in intellectual powers, could tell a lie with the re:tc:.t cx.c. 'I):nn Swift," u'.J , waxing oratorical ''has himself made many caustic remarks on the futility of falsehood. Did he not say that, con sidering how easy lying was, it was a wonder people did not lo better? "ics saul Annie; "out now can he judge of the fil (I don't like the word lies it is harsh) which have never been detected?" Strange this had hadn't struck me before; and was rather a poser. While pausing to recover from iisetlects, Miss Annie arose ami thus held forth: "Now just listen to me a few moments. I utterly and totally deny the justice of - ... - 1 . 1 any 01 your strictures upon wnne lies. I he practice is neither mean nor useless. Mean: How inanv friends do we save from pain, dunger, inortilication by a harmless lib? Useless! Why, whit a world to live in this: would be if our thoughts were always freely expressed, uu-cloaked by what you arc pleased to call lying, but what is generally termed cvurttiy! Ami as to its licing easy, just vou try It iut you see wiicther you can. at a moment's notice, forge a liib so probable ns to Itc accepted as truth, and be devoid ofdisproval hereafter; so naturally spoken as to raise no suspicion and yet of such a nature as to screen you from any dilTiculty into which the outspoken truth would have led you; and lastly this is the most Important of all implicate nobody but yourself. I say just try it So saying, she left the room. I sat speechless. Lying recommended to me as an amiable virtue! It took me some time to recover. At last I rose and walked home, revolving what she had said in my mind. "Not ca.y to tell a fib!" thought I. Rubbish! Nothing so easy. I'll prove it by taking her ab vice, no I resolved to tell an untruin, iust to prove the soundness of niv prin ciples. What siiouia ie tne sunjeci 01 it? It then struck me that the proper and fairest way to test the matter was . 1 .1 - ! to wail unui me occasion prescnieti itself, ami invent the story on the spur of the moment. To give some color to my lie, I staid away ftom Annie one whole evening, and went, not without trepidation, to call on her the ensuing morning. I was not a little bothered to find Charlie with bis sister, as well as one or two other people of my ac quaintance. (There wasno mamma in the case, for Dai try and his sister were orphans.) . "Why, where were you last night?" chanted a general chorus. "I why, I I went out for a ride!" "A ride!" unj- out Charley. "Why I thought you were no equestrian. Which way did you go?. I hadn't bargained for this sort . felt half inclined to draw back (but no. I wanted to read Annie a lesson; 10 I f.oun.lcrcJ on. "Where did I go? Why, let me see. I went "Why, sute'y," said Annie "you didn't ride with your eye shut; aU though from what you have told ma of your horsemanship, I shouldn't wonder j t 1 si 1 you nan. This taint', arouse I me. "I rode into Mr. Ford's park." "No, did you?" saiil one of my friends preient. "I walked that way myself yesterday evening. Strange I didn't see you. I entered the gate nearest to the town." "Oh that accounts for it " answered I, boldly, "I rode on and entered by the southern gate." The deuce you dicir saul Charley. "Why, man, it ha been nuiled up for the last seven months, hut I supiiose you mtan the gate near the house. "Ah, just so," acipieisccd I, for fear of again putting my foot in it. "Well, I declare." tain Annie, "i am astonished. Whose horse did you ride?" "Whose horse? Oh, Gardiner's." "What, the white mare?" asked Charley, with a strange grin. "Yes," returned I, rushing desner atcly on my fate, "tho while mare." Master Charley looked at me for few moments in a way I didn't much tike, and then left the room, whistling mctodiously. Delighted at hi depart ure, I attempted to turn the conversation Into other channels, but In vain. I hail set the ball rolling, and nothing could now curb the curiosity of my friend. "About what time did you start?" asked one. "jut at dusk," answered I, a I thought, with deep diplomacy, for thl would account for no one having seen me in the streets and recojnicd me. "At dusk!" exclaimed Annie. "What an extraordinary creature you are! You have never ridden at all within tha memory of anybody beret and when you do go, you those a horse known to be restive, and set out at dusk along a lonesome rood. NV at the old misanthrope's house iooxing as iuu and gloomy as ever?" "The eh? oh yes! trrtiinlyi very dark uite doleful but pray let us change the subject. Surely it U noth ing so strange for man living in country town to take an evening rule?" "No," answered one of my friend (confound him!) "but when (Hie goet at dusk In the direction of a house known to I almost the prison ot very pretty girl well, If you were not engaged, I should say it wit decidedly suspicious." I taw Annie change color i and. though I felt that my evpenment had ll.ing. 1 found myself under the nc. plunged me Into unforeseen diiiuu'ties, cessity of backing up my miserable at wo determined to carry the thing temjU at fabehood by other fib, ' jhwif, h; but I didn't see my way