"ON BEING FOUND OUT."

Thames Star, Volume VI, Issue 1868, 29 December 1874, Page 2

"ON BEING FOUND OUT."

.Another' Lay Sermon.

(Atldreasfd princioally to those " whited Bepulchres" who on rending Saturday's e«r« moH e\\M pharisaically h&ro " thank, d God they are not as dt^er men (or woinenVwe:" but whose chief came Yor congratulatiou lies in not having '• been fouud out."). ■'

When I was a boy at a private school I remember the master ordering us :ajl, onenigM, to march' into alittlo garden and thence into a tool house, and put our hands into a sack which stood on the i)ench; I my hand into the^sactTitcame out quite black. All. the pjfcherjboysi hands-; were black V JW$ cam* %hen, and showed our little hands to the master; washed them or not^more probably, not, I should say—and then went wander* ing back,to bed.' ...... „ „ rJf * Something had been stolen in the school that day; and, Mr Wiseacre^ having.read in a book of an ingenious method of finding out a thief by making, him put his hand into a sack (which, if guilty, the rogue would shirk fromdoing), all we boys were subjected to the trial. Goodness knows what the lost object was, : or who stole it. We all had black hands to show the master. And the jfchief, whoever he was, was not found out that time.

I wonder if .the-rascal isvstill alive. Are you alive »lill;-I say, you nameless villain, who escaped discovery on that day of crime ? I hope you have escaped often since, old sinner. Ah, what a lucky thing it-is, for you arid me^ my man; that we are not found, out in all r pur peccadilloes ; and that our backs can slip away frpmthp master and cane, now and then. ' Just consider what life would be, if every rpgue was found, out, flogged coram pdpulo! What a butchery, what an endi^sSj switching of the rod T Don'-t '.cry out "about my misanthropy. My good friend Mealy mouth, I will trouble you to tell me, do yom go to church ? When there,?do you sayf or do you nofrithat you are a miserable sinner? And so sayings do you believe it or disbelieve it? If you ar& .an MiS;, don't you deserve correction, and aren't you grateful if you jure let off.?,. I*ay again, what a blessed* thing it i« -that we are not all * found out.,. T ,. s «.. X .. ; . ' Just picture" to yourself everybody who does wrong being found out, and To, fancy all men found out and punished is bad enough ; 3>ut imagine all women';:founajisut !n the distinguished: socjai; c)rc^| A^hich you rind i,mpviß.^lii itnbt?ia in^rcyiihat many of those fair criminals remain unpunished *nd undiscpv*red ? There is f^Mirs ;Longi bowi;-wb^s-f^iiyer practising^ and who thoots(^ispneit^atToyps^ top jEwhen you meet heii -jcu don'tVcal^her':a liaip, and? charge her 'with the wickednets she has done, and is?doing? TBi^e is Mrs Painter, who passes for a most respectable woman, and a model ia society; and yet we know stories about her which aYe not altogether edifying. I say it is best, for the sake of the good, that the bad should not all bie found^out; -You don't want yourihildren to know the history of that, lady iri the next box, who is so handsonie, and whom they admire aoP-A^h me; what would life be if we were_airfound out, and punished for all sour faults.

And yet by little straug© accidents and coincidents, now we are being found out ; every day ! You remember that old story of the Abbe Kakatoes, who told the company at supper how the first confess" ion he erer received was from a murderer. Presently enters to supper- the Marquis de Croquemitaini. " Palsambleu, Abbe !" says the brilliant Marquis, taking a pinch ©f snuff, "are you .here?" Gentlemen and ladies 2 I was tho Abbe's first penitent, and I madd him a confession which I promise ypu-astonished-him.'.' Howth^'certainfybfijeing found out must hauut and depress many a bold 'spirit. The fear of discovery must haunt many a man while the trumpets are blowing his praise. It; is a curious sensation to sit by a man who has found you out, and who, as you know, has found you out; or to sit by a man whom you have'found out. His talent P Bah! His virtue ? We know a little story or two about his virtue, and he knows we know it.

What a wonderful provision of nature it has been that, for the most part, our womankind are cot endowed with the faculty of finding us but I" They don't doubt, and probe, and weigh, and take your measure. Lay down this paper, my benevolent friend and go to Brown's house, and tell his wife and the young ladies what you think of him, and* see what a welcome you will get! In like manner, let him corno to your house, and t.-llOyowr good lady his candid' opteion o" you, and fancy -how she will receive him! Would you have your wife and children know you exactly for what you! are, and esteem, you precisely at your worth? If so, my friend, you will live in a dreary house, and have out a chilly fireside. De you suppose the people round it don't see your homely face as under a glamour, and, as it were, with a halo of love round it ? You don't fancy you are, as you seem to them ? No such thing my man. Put away that monstrous conceit, and be thankful that they have not found you out.—' Thackeray's Roundabout Papers. ■