itself to your pride, your vanity, your selfishness, or any other of your evil propensities? Has it disturbed the sense of right and wrong which the Creator has implanted in the human soul? If so, if you are conscious of all or of any of these effects, or if, having escaped from all, you have felt that such were the effects it was intended or likely to produce, throw the book in the fire, whatever name it may bear on the title page. Throw it in the fire, young man, though it should have been the gift of a friend: young lady, away with the whole set, though it should be the prominent furniture of a rosewood bookcase!

THERE lived in Swabia* a certain lord, pious, just, and wise, to whose lot it fell to have a serving man, a great rogue, and, above all, addicted to the vice of lying. The name of the lord is not in the story; therefore the reader need not trouble himself about it.

The knave† was given to boast of his wondrous travels. He had visited countries which are nowhere to be found on the map, and seen things which mortal eye never beheld. He would lie through the twenty-four hours of the clock; for he dreamed falsehoods in his sleep, to the truth of which he swore when awake. His lord was a shrewd as well as a virtuous man, and used to see the lies in the valet's mouth; so that he was often caught—hung, as it were, in his own untruths, as in a trap. Nevertheless he persisted still the more

* Swabia was one of the ten circles into which the German empire was divided previous to its dissolution in 1806. It has now disappeared from the maps as a geographical division, its territory having been distributed chiefly among Bavaria, Wirtemberg, and Baden.

† Knave, in its primitive sense, implied merely the idea of subjection or dependence, and meant a servant or a child. It is thus used in this lesson.

in his lies, and when any one said, "How can that be?" he would answer, with fierce oaths and protestations, that it was so.

It chanced, one pleasant day in spring, after the rains had fallen heavily, and swollen the floods, that the lord and the knave rode out together, and their way was through a silent and shady forest. Suddenly appeared an old and well-grown fox. "Look!" exclaimed the master; "what a huge beast! Never before have I seen a renard so large." "Doth this beast surprise thee by its hugeness?" replieth straight the serving man, casting his eye slightingly on the animal, as he fled away for fear: "I have been in a kingdom where the foxes are as big as the bulls in this." Whereupon, hearing so vast a lie, the lord answered calmly, but with mockery in his heart, “In that kingdom there must be excellent lining for cloaks, if fur、 riers can there be found to dress skins so large."

And so they rode on, the lord in silence; but soon he began to sigh heavily. Still he seemed to wax more and more sad in spirit, and his sighs grew deeper and more quick. Then the knave inquired of the lord what sudden affliction or cause of sorrow had happened. "Alas!" replied the wily master, "I trust in Heaven's goodness that neither of us two hath today, by any frowardness of fortune, chanced to say the thing which is not; for, assuredly, he that hath so done must this day perish." The knave, on hearing these doleful words, and perceiving real sorrow to be depicted on his master's countenance, instantly felt as if his ears grew more wide, so that not a word or syllable of so strange a discovery might escape his troubled sense. And so, with eager exclamation, he demanded of the lord to ease his suspense, and to explain why so cruel a doom was now about him who had spoken an untruth.

"Hear, then, dear knave," answered the lord, "since thou must needs know; and may no trouble come to thee from what I shall say. To-day we ride far, and in our course is a vast and heavy-rolling flood, of which the ford is narrow, and the pool is deep; to it hath Heaven given the power of sweeping down into its dark holes all dealers in falsehood who may

rashly venture to put themselves within its truth-loving current. But to him who hath told no lie there is no fear of the river. Spur we our horses, for to-day our journey must be long."

Then the knave thought, "Long, indeed, must the journey be for some who are now here;" and as he spurred, he sighed more deeply than his master had done before him, who now went gayly on. They soon came to a brook. Its waters were small, and its channel such as a boy might leap across. Yet, nevertheless, the knave began to tremble, and falteringly asked, "Is this the river where harmless liars must perish?" "This? Ah, no,” replied the lord; "this is but a brook; no liar need tremble here." Yet was the knave not wholly assured; and stammering, said, "My gracious lord, thy servant now bethinks him, that he to-day hath made a fox too huge; that of which he spake was not so large as an ox, but as big as a good-sized deer." The lord replied with wonder in his tone, "What of this fox concerneth me? If large or small, I care not. Spur we our horses, for to-day our journey must be long."

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Long, indeed," still thought the serving man; and in sadness he crossed the brook. Then came they to a stream, running quickly through a green meadow, the stones showing themselves in many places above its frothy water. The varlet started, and cried aloud, "Another river! Surely of rivers there is to-day no end: was it of this thou spakest heretofore?" "No," replied the lord, "not of this." And more he said not; yet marked he with inward gladness his servant's fear. "Because, in good truth," rejoined the knave, "it is on my conscience to give thee note that the fox of which I spake was not bigger than a calf." Large or small, let me not be troubled with the fox; the beast concerneth not me at all.”

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As they quitted the wood, they perceived a river in the way, which gave sign of having been swollen by the rains; and on it was a boat. "This, then, is the doom of liars," said the knave; and he looked earnestly towards the ferry boat. informed, my good lord, that renard was not larger than a fat sheep." The lord seemed angry, and answered, "This is not

"Be

yet the grave of falsehood: why torment me with this fox? Rather spur we our horses, for we have far to go."

Now the day declined, and the shadows of the travellers lengthened on the ground; but darker than the twilight was the sadness on the face of the knave. And as the wind rustled the trees, he ever and anon turned pale, and inquired of his master if the noise were of a torrent, or stream of water. Still, as the evening fell, his eyes strove to discover the course of a winding river. But nothing of the sort could he discern; so that his spirits began to revive, and he was fain to join in discourse with the lord. But the lord held his peace, and looked as one who expects an evil thing.

Suddenly the way became steep, and they descended into a low and woody valley, in which there was a broad and black river, creeping fearfully along, without bridge or bark to be seen near. "Ah, miserable me!" said the knave, turning deadly pale; "this then is the river in which liars must perish." "Even so," said the lord; "this is the stream of which I spake; but the ford is sound and good for true men. Spur we our horses, for the night approacheth, and we have yet far to go."

"My life is dear to me," said the trembling serving man, "and thou knowest that if it were lost, my wife would be disconsolate. In sincerity, then, I declare that the fox which I saw in the distant country was not larger than that which fled from us in the wood this morning."

Then laughed the lord aloud, and said, "Ho, knave! wert thou afraid of thy life? And will nothing cure thy lying? Is not falsehood, which kills the soul, worse than death, which has mastery only over the body? This river is no more than any other, nor hath it a power such as I feigned. The ford is safe, and the waters gentle as those we have already passed; but who shall pass thee over the shame of this day? In it thou needs must sink, unless penitence come to help thee over, and cause thee to look back on the gulf of thy lies, as on a danger from which thou hast been delivered by Heaven's grace." And as he reproved his servant, the lord rode on into

Then

the water, and both in safety reached the opposite shore. vowed the knave that from that time forward he would duly measure his words; and glad was he so to escape.

Such is the story of the lying servant and the merry lord, by which let the reader profit.

LX.-A MOSQUITO HUNT.

BASIL HALL.

[Basil Hall was born in Edinburgh, in 1788, and died in 1844. He was a post captain in the British navy at the time of his death. He was a vigorous and entertaining writer, especially on subjects connected with his own profession. The following extract is from the third series of his Fragments of Voyages and Travels.]

IN the sleeping apartments of India, great care is taken to secure coolness. The beds, which are always large and hard, are generally placed as nearly as may be in the very middle of the apartment, in the line of the freest thorough draught which open doors and windows can command. Round each bed is suspended a gauze curtain, without which sleep would be as effectually murdered as ever it was by any tragedy king. For, if even one mosquito contrives to gain admission into your fortress, you may, for that night, bid good by not only to sleep, but to temper, and almost to health. I defy the most resolute, the most serene, or the most robust person that ever lived between the tropics, to pass the whole night in bed, within the curtains of which a single invader has entered, and not to be found, when the morning comes, in a high fever, with every atom of his patience exhausted.

The process of getting into bed, in India, is one requiring great dexterity, and not a little scientific engineering. As the curtains are carefully tucked in close under the mattress, all round, you must decide at once at what part of the bed you choose to make your entry. Having surveyed the ground, and clearly made up your mind on this point, you take in your right hand a kind of brush, or switch, made of a horse's tail; or, if