![]() In this veteran presence I naturally enter upon this theme with diffidence it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters to the mothers in Israel. No high-minded man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so prostituted. ![]() My complaint simply concerns the decay of the _art_ of lying. ![]() Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the _custom_ of lying has suffered any decay or interruption–no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, A Principle, is eternal the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man’s best and surest friend, is immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this club remains. ![]() ESSAY, FOR DISCUSSION, READ AT A MEETING OF THE HISTORICAL AND ANTIQUARIAN CLUB OF HARTFORD, AND OFFERED FOR THE THIRTY-DOLLAR PRIZE. ![]()
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