h enables a
man to tell lies."

There was a general opening of juvenile eyes at this, as if recent
biblical instruction had led them to believe that the use of such a
power must be naughty.

"You see," explained Adams, "when a man, usin' his imagination, tells
what's not true, just to deceive people an' mislead 'em, we call it
lyin', but when his imagination invents what's not true merely for the
fun o' the thing, an' tells it as a joke, never pretendin' that it's
true, he ain't lyin', he's only tellin' a story, or a anecdote, or a
parable. Now, Dan, put that in your pipe an' smoke it. Likewise shut
your potato-trap, and let me go on wi' my story, which is, (he looked
impressively round, while every eye gazed, and ear listened, and mouth
opened in breathless attention), the Adventure of Robinson Crusoe an'
his man Friday!"

All eyes were turned, as if by magic, on Thursday,--as if there must be
some strange connection here. Toc suddenly shut his mouth and hung his
head in confusion at this unexpected concentration of attention on
himself.

"You've no need to be ashamed, Thursday," said Adams, with a laugh.
"You've got the advantage of Friday, anyhow, bein' a day in advance of
him. Well, as I was about to say, boys an' girls, this Robinson Crusoe
was a seafarin' man, just like myself; an' he went to sea, an' was
shipwrecked on a desolate island just like this, but there was nobody
whatever on that island, not even a woman or a babby. Poor Robinson was
all alone, an' it wasn't till a consid'rable time after he had gone
ashore that he discovered Friday, (who was a black savage), through
seein' his footprint in the sand."

Adams having burst thus suddenly into the very marrow of his story, had
no reason thereafter to complain either of interruption or inattention.
Neither had he reason to find fault with the wealth of his prolific
imagination. It would have done the soul of a painter good to have
watched the faces of that rapt, eager, breathless audience, and it would
have afforded much material for reflection to a student of mind, had he,
knowing the original story of Robinson Crusoe, been permitted to trace
the ingenious sinuosities and astounding creations by which Adams wove
his meagre amount of original matter into a magnificent tale, which not
only thrilled his audience, but amazed himself.

In short, he quite justified the assurance formerly given to Sally, that
the story of Robinson Crusoe would make t