CHAP. V.

LIES OF FEAR.

I ONCE believed that the lie of fear was confined to the low and uneducated of both sexes, and to children; but further reflection and observation have convinced me that this is by no means the case; but that, as this lie springs from the want of moral courage, and as this defect is by no means confined to any class or age, the result of it, that fear of man which prompts to the lie of fear, must be universal also; though the nature of the dread may be various, and of different de

grees of strength. For instance; a child or a servant (of course I speak of ill-educated children) breaks a toy or a glass, and denies having done so. Acquaintances forget to execute commissions intrusted to them; and either say that they are executed, when they are not, or make some false excuses for an omission which was the result of forgetfulness only. No persons are guilty of so many of this sort of lies, in the year, as negligent correspondents; since excuses for not writing sooner are usually lies of fear-fear of having forfeited favour by too long a silence.

As the lie of fear always proceeds, as I before observed, from a want of moral courage, it is often the result of want of resolution to say "no", when "yes" is more agreeable to the feelings of the questioner.

"Is not my

Is not my new

hat becoming?" "Is not my coat of a good colour?" There are few persons who have courage to say "no", even to these trivial questions; though the negative would be truth, and the affirmative, falsehood. And still less are they able to be honest in their replies to questions of a more delicate nature. "Is not my last work the best ?" "Is not my wife beautiful?" "Is not my daughter agreeable?" "Is not my son a fine youth ?"—those insnaring questions, which contented and confiding egotism is only too apt to ask.

Fear of wounding the feelings of the interrogator prompts an affirmative answer. But, perhaps, a lie on these occasions is one of the least displeasing, because it may possibly proceed from a kind aversion to give pain, and occasion disappointment;

and has a degree of relationship, a distant family resemblance, to the LIE OF BENEVOLENCE; though, when accurately analysed, even this goodnatured falsehood may be resolved into selfish dread of losing favour by speaking the truth. Of these pseudolies of benevolence I shall treat in their turn; but I shall now proceed to relate a story, to illustrate THE LIE OF FEAR, and its important results, under apparently unimportant circum

stances.

THE BANK NOTE.

"ARE you returning immediately to Worcester?" said Lady Leslie, a widow residing near that city, to a young officer who was paying her a morning visit." I am; can I do any

thing for you there?"-" Yes; you can do me a great kindness. My confidential servant, Baynes, is gone out for the day and night; and I do not like to trust my new footman, of whom I know nothing, to put this letter in the postoffice, as it contains a fifty-pound note."-" Indeed! that is a large sum to trust to the post."

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Yes; but I am told it is the safest conveyance. It is, however, quite necessary that a person whom I can trust should put the letter in the box." -"Certainly," replied Captain Freeland. Then, with an air that showed he considered himself as a person to be trusted, he deposited the letter in safety in his pocketbook, and took leave; promising he would return to dinner the next day, which was Saturday. On his road, Freeland met some of his brother-officers, who were going