Suppose A Man

as much larger than we are,—as we are larger than a child five years of age,—should come at us with a liberty pole in his hand, and in tones of thunder want to know "who broke that plate,"—there isn't one of us, not excepting myself, that wouldn't swear that we never had seen that plate in our lives—or that it was cracked when we got it.

Another good way to make children tell the truth is to tell it yourself. Keep your word with your child the same as you would with your banker. If you tell a child you will do anything, either do it or give the child the reason why.

Truth is born of confidence. It comes from the lips of love and liberty. I was over in Michigan the other day. There was a boy over there at Grand Rapids about five or six years old, a nice smart boy as you will see from the remark he made—what you might call a nineteenth century boy. His father and mother had promised to take him out riding. They had promised to take him out riding for about three weeks, and they would slip off, and go without him. Well, after a while, that got kind of played out with the little boy, and the day before I was there they played the trick on him again. They went out and got the carriage, and went away, and as they rode away from the front of the house he happened to be standing there with his nurse, and he saw them. The whole thing flashed on him in a moment. He