Truth and Falsehood—an Allegory.
In ancient days, there lived in Damascus, a city of Syria, a youth whose name was Myron. His father, who was very rich, died suddenly, leaving him a vast estate. He had a great deal of money, and a beautiful house, to which a fine garden was attached. One day he was walking in this garden, and the air being warm and pleasant, he sat down by a fountain, sheltered from the sun by the overhanging branches of the cedar trees. The scene was tranquil and soothing, and such was its effect upon Myron, that he fell into a dream or reverie, in which the following events seemed actually to come to pass.
He fancied that he was walking in one of the paths of the garden, thinking upon the death of his father, and the situation in which he was now placed. His mother had been dead for some years: he was therefore an orphan, and must depend upon himself to mark out his course of conduct. His wealth, indeed, brought around him a host of friends, real or pretended—but could he confide in them? Some of them spoke smooth words to him, and flattered him, and made themselves very agreeable; while others were less pleasing, but apparently more sincere. But which, of all these persons, could he confide in? This question often occurred to him, and he felt anxious to decide and act according to the dictates of wisdom. While he was thinking on this subject, the scene changed, and he appeared to be on a journey alone, and travelling a road which was new and strange to him.
The path before him seemed plain enough for a time, but soon it became less defined, and several other roads branched off to the right and left. He, however, proceeded—but at length the road entered a forest, which grew deeper as he advanced, while the track became more obscure. At last he came to a point where he was entirely in doubt as to the road he was to take; and this doubt was mingled with anxiety, for night was now at hand, and a thunder-storm was approaching. Already the ruddy lightning was flashing among the dark shadows of the pines, and the thunder was growling over the distant hills.
While the youth was looking anxiously around for some one to be his guide in this dilemma, he was surprised as well as pleased to see a comely youth approaching him. Scarcely had he greeted the young stranger, when an aged and reverend man also joined the party.
Myron looked at them both attentively, for their appearance was remarkable; beside, he was now in a situation to need counsel and direction, and he wished, if possible, to learn from the aspect of these persons, which he might most safely trust. He was, however, unable to decide between them, and at last he spoke to them as follows:
“I am travelling, my friends, to a distant city, and having lost my way, I beg you to tell me which road I am to follow.”
The youth replied, with a bland smile, “Fair friend, I know the way to the city you seek, and as it is my pleasure to aid the unfortunate, I will lead you to the end of your journey, if you will put yourself under my care.”
Myron noticed, that as the youth spoke, his face grew more lovely, and the tones of his voice were sweet and musical, like the notes of a lute. He was captivated with the young stranger, and was about to express both his thanks and his assent to the proposal, when he observed a frown upon the brow of the old man, at their side. At the same time this grave stranger said, “Do you know, young man, the name of this person under whose guidance you are about to place yourself?”
“I do not,” said Myron, “nor do I care to know it. The fair face and soft speech of the young man, assure me of his kindness and fidelity; and I am willing to place my happiness in his hands. Come,” said he, “let us depart on our journey, and leave this haughty old man to his musings.”
With this rude speech, Myron turned on his heel, and taking the arm of the youth, they were about to depart, when the sage spoke to Myron, saying,—“The time may come, young man, when you will need a friend: when such an occasion arrives, and you are ready to abide by safe counsel, call for me, and I will obey your summons. My name is Truth!”
The two youths now departed, laughing heartily at the old codger, as they called him, whom they left behind. After a short space Myron asked the name of his companion—as a mere matter of curiosity. “Oh,” said the young man, “that old fellow, Truth, calls me Falsehood, but I pass under the various titles of Pleasure, Fancy, and Folly—according to the humor I am in. One day, when I sport with the flowers, they name me pleasure; and at another time, when I play with the sunbeams, they call me fancy; and again, when I give myself up to mirth or wine, they call me folly.”
“But do you do all these things?” asked Myron, in some wonder.
“To be sure I do, and many others,” said the youth, “as you shall see before our acquaintance ends. But remember that I am now your guide; and it is my duty to make your journey pleasant. Let us take this path to the left, for it will conduct us through the most charming scenes.”
The two companions took the left hand path as suggested, and for some time it led them among pleasant valleys, and sweet lawns, and the most enchanting landscapes. At last they came to a scene more beautiful than any they had met. Groups of lofty trees were scattered here and there over a grassy slope, the verdure of which was like velvet. In the middle of this spot was a fountain, and the waters being thrown into the air, fell in glittering showers, making at the same time a sound of entrancing music. Amid the forest bowers, were birds of gorgeous plumage, and their song was more lovely than that of the nightingale.
Myron was delighted. He had never before seen anything so beautiful. Again and again he thanked his guide for the pleasure he had bestowed upon him. So absorbed was he in the scene, that he forgot his journey, and it was not till the sun began to set behind the hills that he was called to reflection. He then asked his guide where they were to spend the night. The reply was evasive, and Myron did not fail to remark that a sinister smile came over the face of his friend, as he said—“Let us go forward, we shall find a lodging in due time.”
The two proceeded, but they had not gone far before the clouds began to thicken, and in a short space it was intensely dark. The road grew rough and thorny, and at last Myron fell over a stone of considerable size. He rose with difficulty, and when he called for his companion, he was not to be found. Nothing could exceed the amazement and terror of the young traveller; for now he began to hear the cries of wild animals, and in a short space he could make out the form of a lion, stealing upon him, through the darkness.
The words of the old man whom he had treated so rudely, now flashed upon his memory—and in the agony of the moment he called out, “Truth—Truth—come to my aid, and be my guide!” These words were uttered aloud, and with such energy, that Myron awoke from his dream, his heart beating, and his body covered with a cold perspiration. But the vision seemed to bear a wholesome meaning, and the words, which broke from his lips in the moment of his fancied peril, became the rule of his after life. He rejected falsehood, which promises fair, and for a time tempts us with darling pleasures, but leads us into scenes of terror and distress, and leaves us helpless at the hour of our utmost need. He made Truth his friend and guide, and was both successful and happy in the great journey of life.