TRUTH,  HUMBUG  &  CO.                           61
Curiosity prevailed. I threw myself into a large easy
chair of yellow leather, placed my cane between my legs,
and rested my wounded arm on the elbow of the chair.
Once installed, I opened a forgotten snuff-box on the
table, and, looking at Mr. Truth :
" My dear Aristides," said I, " your device is a fine
one, but, between ourselves, is it not too fine ? In point
of journalism, I thought that falsehood was the rule and
truth the exception."
"Where have you seen this, Machiavellian doctor?
In Old Europe, perhaps ? In Spain, in Russia, in Tur-
key, wherever the press is a monopoly in the hands of
the government, the poor journalists have permision to
say nothing for six days, on condition of lying officially
on the seventh ; but jn a country of liberty, where every
one can think as he likeB and print what he thinks, where
would be the use of lying ? Truth is our merchandise,
with which we buy the public. To lie is to lose our
credit, and ruin ourselves disgracefully. We may have
all the vices, a single one excepted. See the London
Times. It is inconstant, abusive, violent; but lying—
never ! Surprised in the very act of falsehood, its pro-
prietors would lose an income of a hundred thousand
dollars. A man is not vicious at this cost ; he is vera-
cious through calculation, and virtuous through inter-
est."
This American virtue dazzled me little ; I was seeking
an answer, when I perceived a weasel's paw on the
latch of the door. It was my honorable brother-in-arms
and neighbor, Lawyer Fox, who approached, gliding
over the floor, and took us affectionately by the hand.
" Good morning, my dear Truth," said he to the jour-
nalist, smiling.   "I come in behalf of Mr. Little, the