the dispute was interrupted by somebody calling them out of the
room; and I could not help making some reflections on what had passed.
How dreadful a crime, thought I, is lying and falsity; to what sad
mortifications does it subject the person who is ever wicked enough to
commit it; and how does it expose them to the contempt of everyone, and
make them to be suspected of faults they are even perfectly free from.
Little Hetty now is innocent, with respect to the pincushion with which
her sister charges her, as any of the others; yet, because she has
before forfeited her honour, she can gain no credit: no one believes
what she says, she is thought to be guilty of the double fault of
spoiling the pincushion, and what is still worse, of lying to conceal
it; whilst the other children are at once believed, and their words
depended upon.

Surely, surely, thought I, if people would but reflect upon the
contempt, the shame, and the difficulties which lies expose them to,
they would never be guilty of so terrible a vice, which subjects them
to the scorn of all they converse with, and renders them at all times
suspected, even though they should, as in the case of Hetty, really
speak the truth. Such were my reflections upon falsehood, nor could
I help altogether blaming the owner of the pincushion for her hasty
judgment relating to it. Somebody, she was certain, must have done it;
it was impossible it could come so by itself. That, to be sure, was very
true; but then she never recollected that it was possible a little mouse
might put it in that condition. Ah! thought I to myself, what pity is
it, that human creatures, who are blest with understanding and faculties
so superior to any species, should not make better use of them; and
learn, from daily experience, to grow wiser and better for the future.
This one instance of the pincushion, may teach (and surely people
engaged in life must hourly find more) how dangerous it is to draw hasty
conclusions, and to condemn people upon suspicion, as also the many,
great, and bad consequences of lying.

Scarcely had I finished these soliloquies when a great knock at the
house door made me give such a start that I fell off the joist on which
I was standing, and then ran straight forwards till I came out at a
little hole I found in the bricks above the parlour window: from that
I descended into the road, and went on unmolested till I reached a
malt-house, about whose various apartments, never