"All liars shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and
brimstone, which is the second death."
Having read this portion of Scripture, Bonaparte paused impressively, and
looked all round the room.
"I shall not, my dear friends," he said, "long detain you. Much of our
precious time has already fled blissfully from us in the voice of
thanksgiving and the tongue of praise. A few, a very few words are all I
shall address to you, and may they be as a rod of iron dividing the bones
from the marrow, and the marrow from the bones.
"In the first place: What is a liar?"
The question was put so pointedly, and followed by a pause so profound,
that even the Hottentot man left off looking at his boots and opened his
eyes, though he understood not a word.
"I repeat," said Bonaparte, "what is a liar?"
The sensation was intense; the attention of the audience was riveted.
"Have you any of you ever seen a liar, my dear friends?" There was a still
longer pause. "I hope not; I truly hope not. But I will tell you what a
liar is. I knew a liar once--a little boy who lived in Cape Town, in Short
Market Street. His mother and I sat together one day, discoursing about
our souls.
"'Here, Sampson,' said his mother, 'go and buy sixpence of meiboss from the
Malay round the corner.'
"When he came back she said: 'How much have you got?'
"'Five,' he said.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74