deep in
wisdom, who had two daughters, named Truth and Error, whom he sent to
earth to perform a mission to its people; and though he knew that their
labors must be united, he could not explain to them why two so dissimilar
should have to roam so many years on earth together. Well he knew that,
though Truth would in the end be accepted by the people, she must suffer
greatly. His life experience had taught him that she must go often
unhonored and unloved, while Error, her sister, would receive smiles,
gifts, and welcome from the majority. It was a sacrifice to part with his
much-loved daughter Truth, and a great grief to be obliged to send Error
with her. He placed them, with words of cheer and counsel, in the care of
Hyperion, the father of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn, who accompanied them in
his golden chariot to the clouds, where he left the two in charge of
Zephyr, who wafted them from their fleecy couch to the earth.
One bleak, chilly day, the two were walking over a dreary road dotted
here and there with dwellings. The most casual observer might have
seen their striking dissimilarity, both in dress and manners. Truth was
clad in garments of the plainest material and finish, while Error was
decked in costly robes and jewels. The step of the former was firm and
slow, while that of the latter was rapid and nervous. The bleak winds
penetrated their forms as they turned a sharp angle in the road, when
there was revealed to them, on an eminence, a costly and elegant
building.
"I shall certainly go in there for the night, and escape these biting
blasts," said Error to her sister.
"Although, the house is large and grand," answered Truth, "it does not
look as though its inmates were hospitable. I prefer trying my luck in
yonder cottage on the slope of that hill."
"And perhaps have your walk for naught," answered Error, who bade
a hasty good-by to her sister and entered the enclosure, which must have
been beautiful in summer with its smooth lawns, fine trees and beds and
flowers. She gave the bell a sharp ring, and was summoned into an elegant
drawing-room full of gaily dressed people. Error was neither timid
nor bashful, and she accepted the offered courtesies of the family as one
would a right. She seated herself and explained to them the object of
her call, dwelling largely on the grandeur of her elegant home amid the
stars, and tenderly and feelingly upon her relationship with the gods
and goddesses, and the numerou
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