LYING
Admiral Dewey was a great stickler for truth. He has stated of himself, “There is nothing that I detest so much in a man as lying. I don’t think a man ever gained anything by telling a lie.” A blue-jacket says of him, “We had not been at sea long with him before we got next to how he despised a liar.” One of the men was brought before Dewey, and told of being “sunstruck.” “You are lying, my man,” said Dewey. “You were very drunk last night. I don’t expect to find total abstinence, but I do expect to be told the truth. Had you told me candidly that you had taken a drop too much on your liberty, you would have gone free. For lying, you get ten days in irons.”—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
(1939)
See [Loyalty, Spirit of].
LYING AROUND
“Yes, he lied about it. I’m sure of that, and can prove it.”
That’s a pretty serious matter, to call a man a liar. Doubly serious if you can prove it on him. It is very, very bad to be lying about anything whatsoever.
But I’m convinced that lying around is almost as bad as lying about. I said, “You were not out at church yesterday. What were you doing?”
“I was just lying around.” An excuse—offered as a reason—that I’ve heard scores of times.
Late to get out of bed Sunday morning. A very late breakfast. Everything starts behind, and never catches up. The men are lying around unshaved, unbathed, undrest. They look bad, and probably feel worse. An unclean skin and dirty clothes are not good to rest in.