The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1899-11-02
Effect of a White Lie.

IT don't believe you'd tell lib to save
your life. Henry
This remark caused q general laugh
| from the little crowd of students gather
ed to plan their jokes for the coming hol-
days
Henry Harris was recognized by all who
| knew him as a fellow who detested the
most trifing falsehood. His friends al
ways jeered him when ne refused join
| ing in some practical joke comprising the
| sacrifice of truth.
| You have often laughed at me-" said
| Henry quietly, but the sharpest pain
the truth ever cost me is as nothing com
pared to the life's sorrow and regret
| caused by my last falsehood. If you care
to listen 1 will tell you the story of one
| lie and its effects.
"All right, old fellow; let's have IT,
replied his fellow-students in chorus.
Henry Harris leaned back In his chair
and began his story.
when 1 was a boy Of u there came
to our village a young man In Ill health,
who soon became a sincere friend of my
fathers and frequently visited our home.
This invalid, whose name was Alfred
Payson, confided his life's story TO my
father. 1t was a tale that is met with
only too often.
Alfred had been a wild and reckless
youth, thereby arousing his fathers an
ger, and just six years before the two had
parted. each vowing never to look upon
the others face. For those six years Al
fred's proud, spirit had refused to seek
the reconciliation that a word from him
might have brought about.
'One day there came to him a sense
of his sin against his father, to whom
he had been as dead for so long. Seized
with a sudden feeling of forgiveness he
wrote letter to that fahter, imploring
his pardon and asking for one word with
him before he'd die.
THE letter was given to me to post
by my father one noon as / arose from
my dinner.
q Tt will go off sooner If you post 1t in
town he said. BE sure you don't forget
1t. my boy
q" All right, father answered, thrust
ing the letter into the pocket of my base
ball trousers
Upon reaching the town found that
I was already five minutes late for the
game. and resolving that it would be time
enough to post the letter afterwards put
it in my pocket again and FASTENED to
the field
After witnessing an exciting game I
of the unposted letter in my pocket, and
there it lay forgotten through all the fol-
lowing week
alfred Payson grew weaker each day
and was no longer equal to the shortest
journey, but when the day was bright
and warm he would sit under the shade
of the chestnut tree on the little lawn at
Wcodbine Cottage.
He would eagerly watch the postman
coming down the lane, and what a dis
appointed shadow used to cross his face
when told there was no letter for him.
zone evening I was called into my faith
er's study and asked If I had posted the
letter he gave me.
What letter, father? stammered. as
a recollection Of my duty omitted fash
ed across me.
The one I gave you week ago. an
swered my father, sharply Did you
post it as babe your
Yes, father I answered, faIteringly.
The moment the lie had escaped my
lips I would have given words to recall
t, but the next I yielded to my foolish
'owardice and verified it by another
You are certain. Henry?' added my
father. looking searchingly at me, and 1
replied unhesitatingly:
Quite certain, father
"'All right, my boy he answered,
Kindly. don't doubt your word, but
thought you might have forgotten it,
Ind 1t was an important letter"
%, what miserable, guilty boy I felt
is L crept into bed that night. I resolved |
o post the letter the first thing in the |
morning, but then l thought this would |
sntafl the discovery Of my falsehood for
he date OF the postmark would be enough |
o explain the cause of its delay.
Anxious and unhappy I carried the |
etter in my pocket all day. The possess !
Ion of it made me miserable, yet 1 had |
Tot the moral courage to do what I knew |
o be right-namely: go to my father and |
onfess all.
81 had half made up my mind to do |
his, when wandering down the garden |
walk one evening, I was seized with a |
udden temptation. The gardener had |
zen burning rubbish all day, and the
leap was~stfll blazing brightly.
without a thought of its contents, I
brew the letter in the midst OF the burn
ng rubbish. In a moment the words
hat might have brought to a dying son
fathers loving forgiveness were de-
troyed forever.
Not many days longer did Alfred Paw
on listen longingly for the old postman's
footsteps In the lane. The angel Of
cath was lowering near the little rose
overed cottage.
"One bright June morning the news
anne to US that Alfred was dying My
ather lost no time in sending a telegram
D the young mans father summoning
i'm to the bedside Of his dying son.
By the next train the old man came
last with the words OF love and pardon
Or which his boy had craved
But too latei Alfred Payson had pass
forever beyond the reach CT earthly
Need I add that the letter which In
ly wicked cowardice had destroyed had
cen plea from that dying son for the
that but for the fslsehood
uttered. should have frightened his last
ours on earth?
DO you wonder that the memory of my
fe's sorrow and regret has taught me a
'sson never ITO be forgotten?-Boston
ost.