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diff --git a/old/cnscn10.txt b/old/cnscn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6909c55 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cnscn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1769 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Conscience, by Eliza Lee Follen +#6 in our series by Eliza Lee Follen + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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The little streams were beginning to +find their way out of their icy prison slowly and with trembling, as +if they feared old winter might take a step and catch them, and +pinch them all up again. + +Frank and Harry were sorry to see their snow man growing smaller and +smaller every day; from being a large, portly gentleman, he was +shrunk into a thin, shabby, ugly-looking fellow. His strong arms +were about falling to the ground; his fat nose had entirely +disappeared, and his mouth had grown so big that you might look down +his great throat, and see the place where one of the boys used to go +in to make his snowship talk. Frank and Harry loved all their winter +amusements, and were loath to give up skating, sliding, and +coasting, and above all, snowballing. Yet the boys enjoyed the +lengthening twilight---the hour their mother devoted to them. + +"Will you please to give me two cents, Mother?" said Frank, one day. + +"For what?" + +"To buy a piece of chalk." + +"And two for me, Mother," said Harry, "for I want a piece as well as +Frank." + +"What are you both going to do with chalk?" asked their mother. They +were silent. She asked again, but they made no reply. "I cannot give +you the money till you tell me what you want of the chalk. Why are +you not willing that I should know?" + +The boys continued silent for a short time, and then Frank said, "I +am afraid that, if you know what we are going to do with the chalk, +you will not let us have the money." + +"Then," replied their mother, "you think what you want to do is +wrong. I, perhaps, ought to insist upon your telling me what you +want of the chalk. I love to give you every innocent pleasure, and +what is right for you to do I think I may know about. However, if +you will assure me it is for nothing wrong that you want the chalk, +I will ask no more questions, and give you the money." + +"We do not mean to do any great harm with it," said Harry. "Still I +am afraid you will not quite like to have us do it, mothers are so +much more particular than boys, you know." + +"Try and see if we disagree about this matter," said their mother. + +"Shall I tell?" said Harry to Frank. + +"Yes," he replied. "It is no such dreadful affair. Let's tell mother +all about it. You know, she said the other day that she remembered +when she was a boy." + +They all laughed at this often quoted blunder, and Harry began: "You +see, Mother, that yesterday John Green contrived, while we were in +school, and engaged in doing our lessons, to make a great B on +Frank's and my back, with a piece of chalk. John is a good hand at +such things, and he did it so nicely, that the master did not see +him, and neither of us saw the B on the other. When we went out to +play, all the boys cried out, "B for blockhead, B for blunderbuss, B +for booby," and so on, ever so many other names beginning with B, +and kept pointing at us. At last, I saw Frank's mark, and he saw +mine. I can tell you we were both angry enough. Now we want to be +revenged on John Green, and have a capital plan. You see he will be +on his guard, and we must be very cunning. To-morrow is exhibition +day, and he will have on his best dark-green jacket, and Frank and I +are to sit one on each side of him. You see he is really a dunce +about every thing but playing tricks; and, when he is asked a +question, he will be scared out of his senses, and not know what to +say. Now Frank is going to pretend to help him, while I write Dunce +in large letters on the stupid fellow's back. John will not know +what I am doing, I am sure; and, as he is a real dunce, it will make +a good laugh; every one will think he is well served, and the whole +school will make fun of him." + +"So," said Mrs. Chilton, "you acknowledge that you are planning a +piece of revenge." + +"Why, yes, Mother," replied Frank; "I suppose you would think it +ought to be called revenge, but I don't see any great harm in it. +Schoolboys always play such tricks, and no boy thinks the worse of +another for such a thing." + +"You think," said Mrs. Chilton, "that this schoolmate of yours will +be so embarrassed at answering the questions that he will not know +what he is about; you mean, one of you, to pretend to be his friend +and help him, while the other makes him appear like a fool to the +rest of the boys." + +Frank and Harry looked a little troubled, and were silent a while. +Then Frank said, "It is no more than what John would do; 'tis what +he deserves, and it is true enough that he is a dunce." + +"I will tell you, Frank, a better way of being revenged," replied +his mother. + +"What is it, Mother?" + +"Sit by him, as you intended, and when he is troubled and perplexed, +help him as well as you can, and be particularly kind to him." + +"And so reward him for making fools of us," said Prank, pettishly. +"No, Mother, what you say may be very good, but I don't want to do +such a thing as that." + +"If you were to treat him in the way I propose, do you think he +would ever treat you unkindly again? Would he not feel deeply +ashamed of his conduct if you thus returned him good for evil?" + +The boys were silent, but it was evident that they did not quite +relish their mother's advice, nor feel at all disposed to help John +Green say his lessons. + +"I will tell you a story," said Mrs. Chilton, of a man who overcame +evil with good. A gentleman was once travelling alone in a gig +through a very unfrequented road. There was no house, no sign of +human existence there. It was so still that the hills and rocks and +deep woods gave back the echo of his horse's hoofs; the song of a +bird or the chirping of a cricket seemed to fill a great space, and +fell on the ear with a strange and almost startling effect. He was +observing or rather feeling this extreme solitude and stillness, +when suddenly at a turn in the road he came upon a man who placed +himself directly before the horse's head. The man had a dark, bad +expression in his face, and fixed his eye upon the traveller in such +a way as to convince him that the man meant to stop and rob him. + +The gentleman immediately drew up his reins, and said kindly, +"Friend, if you are going my way, step into my gig, and let me take +you on." + +The man hesitated, and then got in. My friend, who was a clergyman, +began immediately to talk earnestly about many interesting things, +and kept up a lively conversation. At last, he mentioned the +uncommon loneliness of the road, and observed that it would be a +good place for a robbery. He then went on to speak of robbers, and +then of criminals in general, and of what he thought was the right +way to treat them. He said that society should try to instruct and +reform them; that putting them to death was wicked; that, by patient +love and kindness, we should win them back to virtue, that we should +show them the way to peace and honor. He expressed his belief, that +there was something good in the heart of the very worst man, and +said that he believed God had placed a witness of Himself in every +human heart. "I am a non-resistant"--concluded the clergyman, "and I +would rather die than take the life of my bitterest enemy." + +The man listened very attentively. When they came to the next road, +he asked to be allowed to get out, as he said his home lay that way. +After bidding farewell, he added, "I thank you for taking me in, and +for all you have said to me. I shall never forget it. You have saved +me from a crime. When I met you, I meant to rob you. I could easily +have done so; but your kind words put better thoughts into my heart. +I think I shall never have such an evil purpose again. I thank God I +met you. You have made me a better man." + +"Now," said Mrs. Chilton, "I will give you, boys, the money you ask +for, and leave you to do as you think best about John Green." + +"But, Mother," said Harry, "I am sure chalking a boy's back is a +very different thing from robbing a man; and chalking back again is +not like keeping a poor fellow in prison all his life, or hanging +him." + +"Very true, Harry, but the principle of overcoming evil with good is +the same for both cases. The evil purpose in the robber's heart was +overcome by the love and kindness of the man he meant to injure. +Think the whole matter over, boys, and let me know to-morrow what +you have done. I leave you free to do as you think best." + +The next day after school, she asked them what they had done about +John Green, and whether they had spent their money for chalk to +write dunce on his back. + +"I bought a piece of chalk," said Frank, "for I thought I might want +very much to pay him back for his trick upon us, but the poor fellow +looked so frightened that I did not want to touch him." + +"I did not buy any chalk," said Harry, "for I felt almost sure that, +if I had a piece in my pocket, I should leave some mark on his +back." + +"Did you then do nothing to revenge yourselves?" asked their mother. + +"Frank had such a revenge as you would approve of," said Harry. + +"One of the examiners asked John where Athens was. The poor fellow +could not tell, for he is a real dunce, though we did not chalk the +word on his back. Well, he was just going to say that he did not +know, when Frank whispered the answer very softly into his ear, and +saved him from being disgraced. I did want, just then, to write +dunce on John's back; but, on the whole, I pitied him, and, when I +heard him, after the examination, thank Frank, and say, "I am sorry +for what I did the other day," I did feel that it was better to +overcome evil with good, though it comes hard, Mother, sometimes." + +"Very true," said Mrs. Chilton; "to do right is not always easy. At +first, it is perhaps always hard, but it grows easier and easier, +the more we try; till, at last, that which was painful becomes +pleasant. Some good person, I forget who, said, "Whenever I want to +get over a dislike of any person, I always try to find an +opportunity to do him a service." Tell me, Frank, if you do not feel +more kindly towards John Green, since you did him that kindness." + +"I suppose I do," said Prank. "My anger is gone, at any rate." + +"We don't want candles yet, do we, Mother," said Harry. "There is +the moon just over the old pine tree, and there is a bright little +star waiting upon her. Now is our story time. Can you not make up +something to tell us?" + +"I cannot think of any thing," said Mrs. Chilton. "I believe I spun +all the cobwebs out of my brain when I told you about the old +garret." + +"Did you not say to us, the other day, Mother," said Frank, "that, +when you were at uncle John's many years ago, before we were born, +you wrote down some stories? I think you told aunt Susan that you +meant, when we were old enough, to read them to us." + +"I did, Frank, and when the light comes, I will read some of them. +Meantime, I will tell you one or two little anecdotes. I was dining +yesterday with a gentleman who told me this story. He was returning +from England to Boston in one of the fine royal steamers. When not +very far from the end of the voyage, he and some other gentlemen +determined to indulge themselves with the pleasure of giving a +dinner as good as they had every day to the sailors. I suppose you +know that in these steamers the passengers pay a large price for the +passage, and are feasted every day with luxuries. The gentleman +asked the captain's leave to give this dinner, and wished him to +order it; but the captain replied, "I will have nothing to do with +such nonsense. I will give steward orders to do whatever you bid +him; and I don't care what you do, only I must not appear in it." +Accordingly, the gentleman gave the steward orders to provide the +very best dinner that the ship could afford, telling him to prepare +four courses, and adding that if the dinner was in any respect +inferior to what the cabin passengers had it would not be paid for. +The steward was desired to keep it a profound secret who ordered the +dinner, and not to say any thing about it beforehand. + +When the day came, the sailors were astonished that they did not +have their dinner at the usual hour. Presently all hands were called +on deck. This was such an unusual thing when all was quiet in the +ship, that they were still more puzzled. The gentlemen meant to have +them dine in the cabin; but the captain advised against this on the +ground that sailors would feel confined in the cabin, and would not +enjoy themselves. So the dinner was served on deck. When the sailors +were assembled, and were ordered to take their places at the dinner +before them, they obeyed, looking greatly astonished. They were +first helped to soup--then to meats of all sorts--then puddings, +pies, &c.--then nuts, oranges, raisins, figs, and wine. At first, +they stared, as if they were in the land of dreams; but presently +the enchanting realities before them were welcomed and consumed with +the greatest relish. They were waited upon in the most respectful +manner. Their feast had no drawback. All was good and agreeable as +possible. + +The gentleman said he had been at many grand dinners, but had never +enjoyed one so much as this. + +The sailors tried to find out their benefactor, but no one would +tell them. + +At last their suspicions fell upon the right man, him who told me +the story. + +They chose the oldest of their number to wait upon him in the name +of the whole, to express their thanks. "When the old man approached +me," said the gentleman to me, "he took off his hat and was going to +speak, but the tears came in his eyes, and he could not. He went +away, and presently returned; but again he lost his self-command, +and turned away. At last, he recovered himself enough to speak, and +these were his words: "'Tis the first time, sir, that we were ever +treated like men." + +The captain, who laughed at the whim of these gentlemen, said +afterwards that he had never had such work from his sailors as he +had from that time to the end of the voyage. + +I will tell you yet another true story. + +There was a poor girl who was ill of a consumption. She did not +suffer much, yet was pretty certain that she should never get well. +She was very happy, however, for she had many beautiful thoughts to +keep her company in the sick room. + +One day a good man came to visit her, and told her of a school in +Canada, to teach colored people who had been slaves, and had run +away from their masters. You know that in Canada American slaves +become free English subjects. + +He told her that he was trying to get money to pay teachers in this +school. + +The poor girl was very much interested, wished much to contribute +something, and felt grieved at her poverty. Presently her face +lighted up with a sad smile. "I have," said she, "one thing of value +which I could give you, but," (and she looked very sad,) "it would +be hard parting with it. My mother gave it to me." She went to a +drawer, and took out of it a gold necklace. Then, as if she were +talking to herself, she said, "How sweetly my mother smiled upon me +when she put this around my neck! I cannot wear it now, my neck is +so thin, and is always covered up. She would wish me to give it for +this purpose, I know. Yes, she would like I should do it. But then I +cannot bear to give it away. It was hers; she wore it herself. I +shall not keep it a great while longer, at any rate. I can desire my +uncle to give it to the school when I am gone." She covered her face +with her hands, but you could see her tears through her thin, +emaciated fingers. + +Her friend, who had told her about the school, simply to please and +interest her, begged her not to think any more of giving away the +necklace, and spoke to her of something else. + +"No," said she, "I cannot keep it, now that it has come into my mind +that I ought to give it to you for the school. You must take it. +Forgive my weakness; the thought of my dear departed mother brings +the tears to my eyes." + +"Think again, then, before you give away this precious necklace," +said the good man. + +She put the necklace into his hand, and said, as she did so, "I have +thought of it again, and I have decided to give it." + +He took it, and left the generous-hearted girl, praying that she +might recover, but fearing that he should never see her again. + +Not long after this, in a steamboat, he met a gentleman with whom he +had much conversation upon various subjects; among others the +institution for the instruction of the poor runaways. He mentioned +among other things this poor girl's gift, and her grief at parting +with her mother's gold necklace. "I hated," said he, "to take it. +She will not stay here long, and her pleasures are very few." He +mentioned also the name of the town in New Hampshire where she +lived. + +"That is my native place," said the gentleman to whom he was +relating the story. "Will you let me see the necklace?" + +"Certainly," said the missionary, and he took it from his pocket. + +"What sum of money shall you obtain for this necklace?" + +"I have had it weighed," said he, "and I shall get so much money for +it," naming the sum. + +"Are you willing to sell it to me for that sum?" + +"Certainly; that is all I can obtain for it." + +The bargain was concluded. The stranger paid the sum. Then, putting +the necklace into his own pocket, he said, "She shall have it for a +new year's gift." + +Now let us, on the first of January, visit the poor sick girl again. +Early in the morning, some one hands her a little parcel--she opens +it, and there is her precious necklace, the gift of her dear mother +in the heavenly land. It is accompanied by a short note in which the +writer begs her not to part with the necklace again while she lives, +but to consider it her own to do as she pleases with it at her +death. + +The stranger, who had purchased the necklace, and sent it back to +the poor girl, knew the true value of riches, and understood and +enjoyed the luxury of doing good, of making the poor and the +sorrowful rejoice. He was the same man who planned the dinner." + +After tea, Mrs. Chilton took out her manuscript book. + +"The story I shall read," said she, "is a very painful one, but +sadly true. If it makes you very unhappy, you must try to let it +save you from committing the fault which was so severely punished. +All the essential facts are true, as I shall read them to you. + + + + +"IT IS ONLY A TRIFLE." + + +"Be sure, my son," said Mr. Pratt, as he left his counting room, in +Philadelphia, "be sure that you send that money to Mr. Reid to-day; +direct it carefully, and see that all is done in proper form and +order." + +"Yes, sir," replied George, "I will." + +George fully intended to obey implicitly. He was, in the main, +desirous to do right; but he had one great fault. When he had a +small duty to perform, he was apt to say and think, "O, that is only +a trifle. Why should we lay so much stress on trifles?" He would +often say, when any one found fault with him for the neglect of a +small duty, "I am sure it is only a trifle." + +George, as soon as he had finished something he was about, wrote the +letter according to the directions given him, carefully enclosed the +money in it, nicely folded and sealed it. Just as he was preparing +to direct it, a young man opened the door of the counting room in +great haste, and begged him to go with him that moment, to speak to +some one who was then passing. + +"I can direct and carry the letter," said George's younger brother; +"I know to whom it is to go, and I can send it just as well as you." + +George had a slight feeling in his heart that he ought not to leave +this letter to any one to direct; but his brother again said, "I +should think I could do such a trifling thing as that; I can surely +direct a letter, though I cannot write one yet." + +Frank was the younger apprentice, and was anxious to get forward and +do what George did. + +"Well," said George, "you may do it, but be sure you do it right. +John Reid, you know, is the name;" and he went with his companion. +"It is only a trifle," he said to himself, as he remembered his +father's charge. "I have done all that is really important. It is of +little consequence who directs and carries the letter." So he chased +away the slight cloud that hung over his mind as he left the +counting room with his friend. + +These slight clouds that rise in the soul's horizon, so prophetic, +so full of mercy or of terror as we regard or slight them! "Why do +we not learn their meaning? Why are they not ever messengers of love +and peace to us? Had George stopped and considered, perhaps he would +not have done as he did, perhaps he would not have called this duty +a trifle, and would not have left the counting room till he had +performed every tittle of his father's command. + +The letter was directed and sent. Frank did as well as he knew how. + +When George returned, he asked, "Have you directed the letter to Mr. +John Reid?" + +"Yes, I have, and carried it to the office." + +"Did you enclose that money to Mr. Reid, George?" asked his father, +when he next saw him. + +"Yes, sir," George replied, with a slight hesitation, which, +however, he soon got over; "for," said he to himself, "I enclosed +the money carefully; what does it matter whether Frank or I directed +the letter?" So he spoke out freely to his father. + +"All right, father; the letter is on its way to Ohio." + +Unfortunately his father had not noticed his hesitation, was +satisfied, and asked no further questions. + +Again George checked the monitions of his conscience. Again he said +to himself, "It's only a trifle." He had yet to learn that no duty +is a trifle. + +Weeks passed, and there was no acknowledgment of the money. At last +a letter arrived from Mr. Reid to Mr. Pratt, requesting him, if +convenient, to pay the two hundred dollars promised to him some +weeks before. + +Mr. Reid was a poor man, to whom two hundred dollars was an +important sum. + +Mr. Pratt again questioned his son, and was again assured that the +money had been sent, and wrote to Mr. Reid accordingly, advising him +to inquire at the post office. + +There happened to be a young man in the office, by the name of Harry +Brown, whose mother was a widow. She was poor, and a stranger in the +town. Her son had obtained his place on account of his quick +intelligence, and because he could also write a very good hand. +Strong suspicions fell upon him. He was questioned about the letter, +and at last Mr. Reid accused him of the theft. + +The young man's indignation was uncontrollable; he turned white with +anger; he could not speak; he stammered and clenched his fists, and +at last burst into tears and left the office. + +All this was taken for the agony of detected guilt and neither the +postmaster nor Mr. Reid attempted to stop him, for neither of them +wished to have him punished, and they hoped to recover the money by +gentler means. + +We will now change the scene. Let us enter this small, neat cottage. +There are but two rooms on the floor. One is kitchen and parlor, the +other a bed room. A sort of ladder in one corner intimates that in +the small attic is also a sleeping place. A small table is spread +for two people; it is very clean and nice, but every thing that you +see indicates poverty. An old woman, with a sweet but sorrowful +countenance, sits by the small window, looking anxiously out of it +for some one who you might suppose was to share her simple meal with +her, which stood nicely covered up at the fire, awaiting his +arrival. She is talking to herself. + +"One treasure is yet left me in this world--my noble, beautiful, +brave son. God bless him; for him I am willing to live. There he +comes; how fast he runs! but how red and heated he looks! What is +the matter, Harry? what has happened?" she exclaimed, as he entered; +"are you sick?" + +"Yes, Mother, and I shall never be well again. I have been accused +of stealing, and Mr. Reid and the postmaster both believe it. I +cannot live here any longer. I have just come from the recruiting +office; I have enlisted for the Mexican war, and I hope I shall be +shot; I go the day after to-morrow. I will never be seen here again. +To think that any one should dare to accuse me of theft! Why did I +not knock him down? I hate the world, I hate all mankind, I hate +life, I want to die. If it were not for you, Mother, I believe I +should kill myself. O Mother, Mother! how can I live?" And the poor +fellow laid his head in his mother's lap and wept bitterly. + +The poor mother--she spoke not, she did not weep; she laid her hands +upon her son's head, and looked up through the thin roof of her poor +cottage, far, far into the everlasting heavens, where alone are +peace and hope to be found. In her deep agony she called upon the +Almighty for aid. She looked like a marble image of despair. + +"I must prepare to go," at last her son said; "I have enlisted, and +I must be ready. "What will you do with yourself, Mother?" + +"Go with you, my child. Wherever you go, there I go too. I can cook +for the camp. You have done wrong, my son, in enlisting as a +soldier; why not come first to me? Your innocence will yet be +proved. Why were you so rash? All might have yet been well with us." + +"I cannot bear it, Mother; I must go." + +"Then I go with you; I will never desert you." + +"But O, you will be killed with fatigue and exposure. Mother, dear +Mother, stay till I can get you a new home." + +"I go, my son, where you go," said his mother; "my only home is with +you." + +In two days their few possessions were sold, and they were gone. + +We will now return to the counting room where our TRUE story began. +Some months had passed; the father and son are there. "George," said +Mr. Pratt, "I cannot but fear you made some mistake about that +letter. Money is seldom stolen out of letters. Were you very +particular about the name and place in your direction?" + +"The truth is, Sir, that Frank directed the letter; I wrote and +folded and sealed it; but just as I was going to direct it, Harry +Flint called me to speak to some one, and I let Frank direct it; but +I told him to be sure to direct it to Mr. John Reid, and I know he +did so, just as well as if I had seen it." + +The father looked much displeased. "You did wrong, George, after my +particular orders." + +"Why, Father, I am sure it was of no importance which of us did it. +That was only a trifle, I am sure. I told Frank the name, and he +knows where Mr. Reid lives. I should not think you would blame me +for this--" + +"I do blame you very much. You should not have left this to Frank. I +charged you to be very careful. This was your own duty, and you +should have performed it yourself. Your neglect will most likely +cost me two hundred dollars, for I shall send the money to Mr. Reid; +he of course is not to lose it. You cannot be sure that Frank +directed the letter correctly; he is not used to the work." + +George began to feel that it was not a trifle to leave another +person to direct a letter of importance; he felt very sorry at the +thought of losing his father's money. Poor fellow! he had a worse +pain than this to endure. + +The next morning, when the letters came from the post office, there +was one from Mr. Reid. The missing letter had at last arrived, and +the two hundred dollars were in it. The letter had been misdirected. +There was a mistake in the name of the place. The letter had been +sent to Washington, whence he had just received it, as the person +whose office it is to read these letters knew him personally, and so +could correct the mistake. He then related the sad story of the +clerk and his poor mother. He added that he went to the poor woman's +house the very day that he left the town, intending to satisfy his +mind upon the question of her son's guilt, of which he began to +doubt--intending, if he found the young man innocent, to take him +back into the office, and if not, to try to induce him to restore +the money, and go, to recover his character, to some other place, to +which he would have helped him to remove. He was too late. He found +the house empty. "I pity the person," he said, "who misdirected that +letter--he was the unconscious cause of the ruin of two excellent +beings. We may blame the young man's violence, and may call him +foolish and passionate; yet it was a deep hatred of even the +appearance of sin and shame that made him do so mad an action as to +enlist in a wicked war." + +Mr. Pratt now read this letter to his son. George covered his face +to hide his shame and sorrow; his heart was ready to break with +agony. He groaned aloud. He spoke not one word. + +George was suffering in silence the bitterest of all pains which a +good mind can endure,--that of being the cause of misery to others, +through one's own wrong-doing. After a few moments, he started up +and exclaimed, "I must send word to the poor fellow that the money +is found and his innocence proved; let me do what I can to repair +the evil I have caused. If I write to the postmaster and tell him +the story, he will take the poor fellow back again. I have some +money of my own, Father, to pay for the travelling expenses of the +boy and his mother. All perhaps may yet be right. I can work. I will +do any thing for them. Poor Harry Brown--so proud and so honest! O, +Father! I hate myself. But how shall I send him word? the post is +not certain; let me think. Bill Smith said he was going to the war, +if he could get money enough for his journey. He would take my +letter. I'll be after him, and get him off in no time." + +Away flew George; he gave Bill Smith the money, told him the story, +and sent him off for that very night, George then wrote to the +postmaster, and implored him to write immediately to Harry, and +offer him again the place in the office. George went to bed with a +heavy heart, still with the hope that poor Harry had not been +killed. + +Now let us follow Harry and his old mother to Mexico. Many weeks +have passed since we left George mourning his fault, and sending up +prayers for the life of poor Harry. It is a few days after a battle. +On the ground, in the corner of a small tent, lies a poor soldier. +Bandages stained with blood are lying about. The poor sufferer is +very pale, and his face shows marks of pain. An old woman, whose +face is full of anxious love, sits by his side and holds his hand. +The young man lifts the old withered hand to his lips and kisses it; +he looks up through the thin canvas of his tent, and says, "Thank +God, dear Mother, that you are here with me now to take care of me, +else I think I should die. Forgive my rashness; if I live will yet +be a good son to you. I knew was not a thief, and that ought to have +been enough for me. I was wrong to be so angry, and to forget you, +whom I ought to have staid by and taken care of, as I promised +father I would. Forgive me, dear Mother. Perhaps I shall be a better +man with one leg than I was with two." + +While the poor fellow, who had lost his leg the first day he went to +battle, was slowly uttering these words, the tears were running fast +down the hollow cheeks of his old mother, but gentle, quiet tears, +as though the heart of her who shed them was resigned and peaceful. + +"I thank God for your life, my son. Your fighting days are over; +they have been short; but usefulness and happiness are yet before +you, though you go through life maimed. I shall yet see you smiling +and happy again in our cottage, your innocence proved, your place +restored, and friends all around you." + +"How can that be?" said Harry; "there is only my word and character +as evidence of my honesty. I cannot go back to the old place--never, +never, Mother. What shall I do? Better die than live disgraced." + +"Have no fear, Harry; I have none. I am sure all will be well, and +your honesty proved. So go to sleep, as the surgeon directed. Have +faith; you have shown courage." His mother smoothed the clothes over +him, and gently stroked his hand, and he was silent, and fell +asleep. + +Presently, the surgeon looked in. He was a kind-hearted man, and +knew their story. He said softly, "When the boy wakes I have some +news for him that will do him more good than I can." + +Harry, who was just waking, started and exclaimed, "What news? tell +me this minute! is the money found?" + +"Come, Mr. Gunpowder, keep quiet, if you please, or you'll not hear +any thing from me." + +"Yes, yes; I am as quiet as a lamb, only be quick. Tell me the +news." + +"Well, here are two letters that a great six foot chap has brought, +not for your lambship, Mr. Harry, but for your good mother, who +takes things like a rational being." + +He gave the letters to the mother and left the tent, saying with a +smile, "Don't be too happy." + +The letter from the postmaster was to ask Harry's pardon for the +injustice, and to offer the place in the office. "There is no one," +it concluded, "I could trust as I can you." + +The other was from George, as follows:-- + +"DEAR MR. BROWN: My neglect of my duty in directing a letter was the +real cause of the suspicion that fell upon you. I can never forgive +myself. I can hardly hope you can forgive me. If you will be +generous enough to try to do so, you will make me less unhappy. If +you accept the sum I enclose you to meet the expenses of your +journey, I shall be less miserable. By taking it you will prove that +you pity and forgive me,--the unintentional cause of so much evil to +you and your excellent mother." George enclosed a check for five +hundred dollars, all he had saved from his earnings as a clerk for +the two years past. + +"Thank Heaven, my innocence is proved!" said the honest fellow. +"But, Mother, I don't want the money." + +"It is kinder to take it," said the mother. + +Harry submitted. Ere long, he was able to move on crutches. He and +his mother were again in their little cottage. Harry received the +heartiest welcome from his towns-people when he was seen again with +his one leg in his place in the post-office. + +George often went to the town. His first visit was always to Mrs. +Brown. He treated her as if she were his mother, and her son was to +him as a brother. He was often heard to say, "The sound of Harry +Brown's crutches always reminds me sorrowfully that when there is a +duty to perform involving the rights of others we should never say, +It is only a trifle." + +"It seems to me," said Frank, "that I should never have been happy +again to have caused so much misery by the neglect of my duty; and +yet, Mother, it did seem a trifle." + +"My mother," replied Mrs. Chilton, "said to me, when I was a girl, +Never consider any duty, ever so great, as too difficult, or any, +ever so small, as too trifling. I have never forgotten her words, +and though I have not always been faithful to this lesson, it has +often saved me from wrong-doing and its consequent unhappiness." + +After a short silence, Mrs. Chilton said to her boys, The next story +is not so painful, but it illustrates the same truth--that, in +matters of conscience, nothing is trifling. You shall now hear how +happy a good conscience can make one even under the severest trials. + +One pleasant afternoon, my friend and I were seated in the neat +little room which served old Susan Vincent for parlor, kitchen, and +bed-room. She was sitting in a nice arm-chair which her infirmities +made necessary for her comfort. A kind friend had sent it to her. +She had on a nice clean gingham gown, a handkerchief crossed on her +neck, in the fashion of the Shakers, and a plain cap, as white as +the driven snow, covered her silver locks. A little round table, +polished by frequent scouring, stood beside her; on it was her +knitting work, Baxter's Saints' Rest, and the Bible; the last lay +open before her. She was reading in it when we entered. As her door +was open and she did not hear very quickly, we had an opportunity of +observing her before she perceived us. There was that deep interest +in her manner of reading this holy book, as she was leaning over it +with her spectacles on, entirely absorbed, that made her resemble a +person who was examining a title deed to an estate which was to make +her the heir of uncounted treasures. She was indeed reading with her +whole soul the proofs she there found of her claim to an inheritance +that makes all earthly riches seem poor indeed. + +"I am glad to see you, dear," was her affectionate welcome to me; +"do I know this lady with you?" + +"No," I answered; "she is my friend whom I told you the other day I +should bring to see you." + +"I am glad to see her if she is your friend," she replied. + +"I want you, Susan, if you are strong enough to-day, to repeat to my +friend that little account of yourself that you were once kind +enough to give me." + +"What, the whole story?" said Susan, "beginning at the beginning, as +the children say?" + +Susan was silent a minute or two, as if to collect her thoughts, and +then said, I have always believed, that, though it seemed strange +that such a good-for-nothing creature as I am should be spared, and +others taken away, that, may be, I was left to give my testimony for +some good purpose, and that my experience might do some good to poor +pilgrims. For + + "It is a straight and thorny road, + And mortal spirits tire and faint; + But they forget the mighty God + Who feeds the strength of every saint." + +Susan knew half the hymn book by heart, and loved to repeat hymns so +well, that she could hardly have told her story without this +preface. She immediately began as follows:-- + +"My father, who was a sailor, lost his life at sea when I was two +years old; my mother never had very good health, and about six years +afterward she fell into a consumption. She lived only a year after +she was taken sick. I was too young to remember much of her, but I +have a distinct recollection of seeing her often sitting by a little +stand like this, with an open Bible upon it; and once I was struck +with her looking up to heaven with her hands clasped for a long time +as if she were praying, and then looking at me, and then at the +book; and I saw big tears rolling down her cheeks. She called me to +her, and said, with an earnest but broken voice, God save my child +from the evil that is in the world! and give her the testimony of a +good conscience. + +These words I could not forget, for the next day she died. We forget +many things in this world, ladies, but the words of a dying mother +we cannot help remembering. This was the first time I had ever seen +death, but there was such a peaceful, happy expression in my +mother's face, that it did not seem very terrible to me, till I +found they were going to carry her away; indeed, I think I must have +believed it was sleep, and expected her to awake; for, when they +took her from me, I was half out of my senses, and screamed for them +to leave me my mother. + +A kind old lady, a friend to my mother, took me in her lap and put +her arms round me, and tried to soothe and comfort me. She told me +my mother had gone to heaven; that it was only her body that was +dead; but that her soul was living, and was gone to heaven. "She +will never be sick or unhappy any more; she is gone to God, and she +will live forever with Jesus Christ and all good beings." + +"But I want to see her," said I. + +"You will see her again, I doubt not, my child, if you are good," +the old lady said. Perhaps I should not have remembered so exactly +what she said, if she had not frequently repeated the same thing to +me, and if I had not loved my mother so much. + +This excellent lady took me home with her, and it was to her +goodness I owe every thing. She had lost nearly all her property by +the failure of a merchant to whom she had lent money; she had +supported herself by taking boarders. I was perfectly destitute; my +mother had made out to get a living by taking in sewing, but left +nothing. The last year of her life she could not have got along +without my assistance, and what was given her by her charitable +neighbors; and for the last three months she could not even make her +bed, or clean her own room, or do her little cooking, without my +help. And O, how happy I was when I was helping my dear mother! Now +at this moment, when I am so old, and forget so many things, how +well I remember her and all she said! It seems as if I could hear +her say, "What should I do without you, my dear Susan." It seems to +me as if I would rather live over again those days, when I was +trying to help and comfort my sick mother, than any of my whole +life. Children are not aware how much they can do for their parents, +nor do they know what a blessed remembrance it will be to them to +think that they have lessened the sufferings of a sick mother. All +the riches in the world would not afford them such happiness. + +Mrs. Brown, the kind lady who took me home, told me that she would +send me to school, and that I should have a home at her house; but +that, as she was very poor, she should expect me to exert myself +when I was not at school, and do all I could to help in the house; +and that I must improve my time at school. She gave me a great deal +of good advice, and told me I must not imitate the bad conduct that +I might see; and that I must never do any thing without asking my +conscience whether it was right to do it. I remember she asked me if +I knew what my conscience was. I was not quite sure that I did; so I +said, I did not know whether I did. Then she asked me if I ever +remembered doing wrong. + +"O yes, ma'am," I said; "I never shall forget playing with my +mother's bottle of cough drops, when she told me not to, and +spilling them all out. I did not tell her of it at first, and she +could not get any more till next day; and every time she coughed, it +seemed as if my heart would break; and I hated myself, and could not +bear it at all till I told her I had played with the bottle and +spilled the drops." + +"It was your conscience, Susan," the old lady said, "that was so +troubled; it was your conscience that said you must tell your +mother; this is God's witness in your heart; always do as that +directs you, and come what will, Susan, you can bear it." + +I was so grateful to my kind friend for her tender care of me, that +I attended to all she said to me, and never forgot it; and it has +been the source of happiness to me through life. I had not been long +in the school before I had a trial of my conscience, and I thank Him +who is the giver of all strength that I resisted this first +temptation. + +One day the schoolmistress left her penknife open upon her desk, +when she went out of her room during the recess; nearly all the +girls took it into their hands to look at it, for it had a number of +blades, and was rather curious; some of them tried the knife to see +how sharp it was. We had been told not to meddle with her things, +and all of us knew it was wrong; as I was one of the small girls, I +did not get a chance to look at it till all had seen it; but, when +the others ran out to the play ground, and I was left alone, I went +to the desk, and took up the knife, and opened and shut all the +blades; but instead of leaving the one open which I found so, I left +open another blade, just put it on the edge of my nail, to see how +very sharp it was, and then laid it down, and ran after the rest of +the girls. + +When the schoolmistress came in, she immediately saw that we had +taken up her knife. "Some one," said she, "has been using my knife; +I am sure of it, because the blade that I left open is shut, and +another is open, and it is gapped; who has done it?" Not a girl +spoke; I thought that I was the only one who had opened and shut the +blades, but I knew I had not gapped either of them. I knew that all +the others had taken up the knife; I was afraid to speak; I did not +like to take the whole blame, and I was silent as the other girls +were. + +After waiting a few minutes, our teacher said, "As none of you +choose to confess who has done this, I shall have to punish the +innocent with the guilty; I shall take away a merit from all of you, +except those few girls who, I feel sure, would not disobey me." + +There were only five girls in the school who did not lose a merit, +and I was one of the number. As she named them over, and gave her +reasons for believing them innocent, when she came to me, she said, +"Little Susan Vincent has been so orderly and so good ever since she +has been here, that I am sure it was not she that did it, and, if +she had, I am sure she would confess it." + +I felt as if I was choking; I put my head clear down so that no one +could see my face; but the girls, who had none of them seen me touch +the knife, thought that my modesty made me appear so much confused; +no one but God and myself knew that I had a guilty conscience. I +felt too dreadfully to speak then; I thought of nothing else all +school time; I missed in all my lessons, for I did not attend to any +thing that was said to me. The schoolmistress thought I was sick, +and I went home miserable enough. + +As I went along, I thought over all that Mrs. Brown had said to me +about conscience, and I understood then what she meant by the voice +of God in the heart. No one accused me, but I felt like a criminal; +every one thought well of me; my schoolmistress and companions all +loved me; but I despised and hated myself. I felt as if God was +displeased with me. + +As usual, I went directly to Mrs. Brown to ask what she had for me +to do. "What's the matter, Susan?" said she; "you don't look right; +have you been naughty, or are you sick, child?" + +I could not bear to have her speak so kindly to me when I did not +deserve it, and I burst into tears; I loved her like a mother, and I +told her all. + +"And now, Susan, what are you going to do?" + +"I want you, ma'am, to tell the schoolmistress." + +"Better tell her yourself," she answered. + +After thinking a while, I said that I would; and then my conscience +was a little easier. I went a little before the time, that I might +see her alone. When I came in, I found a friend of hers with her, +and I heard my mistress whisper, "This is my dear little orphan +girl." She called me to her, and took me up in her lap. "Well, +honest little Sue," said she, "why don't you look up in my face, as +you know you always do?" + +This was too much for me; I burst into tears, and put my hands over +my face. + +"What's the matter, Susan?" said she. + +As soon as I could speak, I said, "I did open the knife; I was +wicked when you thought I was good, for I did not tell the truth; I +opened and shut all the blades, and I cut a notch on my nail with +one, and then I did not tell you of it when you asked who opened +it." When I had got it all out, I felt better; it seemed as if a +great load was taken off of my heart. + +In a few minutes, my kind friend said to me, "I am sorry you did +wrong, Susan; but I am very glad to see that you have a tender +conscience, and that it has made you come and confess your faults; I +am very glad that you are so sorry; it is a bad sign when children +think they are happy, after they have done wrong. I trust, my dear +Susan, that you have suffered so much, that you will never commit +such a fault again; it was only foolish and disobedient to take up +my knife, but it was very wrong not to tell me, when I asked who did +it, and let me punish so many girls for your offence." + +I saw that she thought I was the only one that had touched the +knife, and believed me worse than I was; and then I felt what a +difference there was between a good and an evil conscience; for it +did not trouble me half so much that she thought me worse than I +really was, as to see that she thought me better. + +Then she said, "You must, Susan, confess before the whole school +that it was you that took my knife." + +While she was speaking, the girls came in. I had cried so much that +I could hardly speak; and my good friend said that, as I was a +little girl, she would speak for me. + +As soon as she said that I had confessed that it was I that took the +knife, almost every girl in the school cried out, "It was not little +Susan, it was I!" "It was not Sue, it was I!" was heard all round +the room. This made me feel bold enough to speak, and I said, + +"Yes, I did take it up when you were all out on the play ground; I +opened and shut all the blades, and cut a little notch on my nail." + +"And so did I!" "And so did I!" was heard from a number of voices. +"And we took it up first," said all the girls. + +When there was silence, the schoolmistress told us that she was glad +to see that, though we had done wrong in the morning, we were trying +now to do right, and repair our fault; that although we had not +obeyed conscience then, we were acting as it directed us now. + +"And are you not all happier?" said she. "Yes," they all said. "And +is not God good, to put this feeling in your hearts, that makes you +unhappy when you do wrong, and happy when you do right? Follow this +guide, children, and it will lead you to heaven." + +It may seem strange that a child, hardly nine years old, should +remember all that was said at such a time; but I suffered a great +deal before I confessed my fault, for I was a little proud of my +good character at school, and my suffering made me remember. +Besides, Mrs. Brown often talked about conscience to me, and told me +that I must learn to govern myself, for that when she died, I should +have nothing but my character to depend upon; no guide but my Bible +and my conscience, and no protector but God. + +When I was about fifteen years old, Mrs. Brown, my kind friend, +died, go sweetly and calmly that death in her seemed beautiful. I +sat by her side, after I had closed her eyes, and looked in her dear +face, till even my grief at losing her was quieted, and till I felt +what we learn in the good book, that the good never die. I felt sure +that her soul was with God. + +After the funeral, I went out to inquire for a place, and soon found +one, for every one knew Mrs. Brown's regard for me. + +I met with a great trouble at my first place; I was the chamber +maid, and the nursery maid was envious of me, because my mistress +liked me better than her. She often accused me of faults I did not +commit; but, when my mistress spoke to me, I looked and was so +innocent that she was convinced. + +One morning my mistress sent for me; as soon as I saw her face I +knew that something very bad was the matter, for the tears came into +her eyes when she spoke to me. She told me that she was very sorry, +but that she could not keep me any longer; she was grieved to lose +me, but more for the cause. + +I asked her to tell me the cause. + +"I am afraid," she said, "indeed, Susan, I have a good reason to +believe, that you are not honest." + +I do confess, ladies, that I was very angry; it seemed as if all the +blood in my body flew up into my face and head; I could not speak, +and I don't know but my confusion and anger together made me look +guilty. + +"I am glad," said she, "that you don't tell any falsehood about it; +you are welcome to stay here till you get a place." + +By this time I could speak, and I said to her, "I am as innocent as +the child just born. I never took so much as a pin from any one; I +do not wish to stay a minute in your house; I would not stay in any +one's house who had accused me of dishonesty;" and I called upon my +mother and my friend Mrs. Brown, though I knew they could not answer +me, and I cried aloud like a child. + +My mistress shed tears, and said she should not have accused me +without certain proofs of my dishonesty, and begged me to confess my +fault, and to stay till I got a place; but I told her I would not +stay another minute, and I went to my chamber and tied up my bundle, +and put on my bonnet and shawl, and walked straight off without +speaking to any one. + +I had gone nearly a mile before I was at all calmed, and then, out +of breath, and miserable beyond words to tell, I sat down under an +old tree by the roadside. It was autumn; the tree was stripped of +its leaves, the wind sounded mournfully among the dead branches, +there were heavy dark clouds in the sky, and my heart was heavier +and darker than the clouds, and my sighs were sadder than the wind. + +The place where I had been living was two miles from the village +where I had lived with Mrs. Brown, and I had taken the road to it, +though then she was not there to take me in; I had no relation in +the wide world; O, I never shall forget that dreary moment, and how +desolate I felt. I looked up into the sky, and called upon God, the +Father of the fatherless; I cried to him for help, and help came to +me, for I felt stronger and I grew composed; and then I remembered I +was innocent, and just then the sun broke out between two dark +clouds, and it looked to me like the pure bright eye of God, looking +right into my heart, and seeing my innocence; and then it seemed as +if my soul was full of light, and I went on my way to the village, +feeling as if I had no dreadful sorrow. + +When I got into the village, I remembered my old schoolmistress, and +I knew that, though she was poor herself, she would share her bed +with me for a night at least, and I remembered that scripture, "Be +not anxious for the morrow." + +It was dusk when I knocked at her door; and O, you know not, who +have never been without a happy home, how cheering to my heart was +the sound of her kind voice, saying, "Walk in." She was not very +quick sighted, and at first she took me for a stranger, till I said, +"It is I, Miss Howe; do you not know me?" She turned me towards the +light that was still left in the west, and in a second exclaimed, +"Why, it is little Sue, my orphan girl!" This was too much for me. +She put her arms round me, and I cried again like a child; but they +were not such bitter tears as I had shed before. + +"What brought you here at this time?" said she, "and what is the +matter? But come take some supper first, and tell me afterwards; you +look very tired." She took off my bonnet, and made me sit down by +the fire, and finished getting her tea ready which she was preparing +when I came in, and made me drink a cup of it before she asked +another question, and then she said, "Now, Susan, tell me what is +the matter; something has happened, I know." Then I told her all +that I knew myself, for why my mistress had treated me so I could +not tell. + +When I had finished, she said, "Now, Susan, you will find the +advantage of a good character; if I did not believe that you would +starve sooner than steal or tell a falsehood, I should be afraid +about you now; but as it is, I do not feel uneasy, for I believe +that innocence always prevails. I will do the best I can for you; I +shall never forget the penknife; so, my child, do not cry any more, +and let us talk of other things; you shall have half of my bed and +whatever I have, till you can get a place to suit you; so, dear, do +not be downcast." + +O, young ladies, you must know what it is to be alone in the world, +and to be accused wrongfully, to be able to know the blessing of +kindness, of true Christian charity; it seemed as if a voice had +said to my troubled heart, "Peace, be still." + +Directly after breakfast the next morning, Miss Howe left me; she +said she was going to take a short walk before school began, and +should soon return. She looked much pleased when she came back. "I +think," said she, "I have got a good place for you. It is at the +minister's; I heard they wanted some one; I went and told them all +about you, and they believe you are innocent. Mr. A--says he +remembers you in Mrs. Brown's sick chamber, but his wife thinks it +proper to go and see the lady you have been living with, and he will +come and see you this evening." + +At first this made me feel very badly; my pride and my anger began +to rise, but after a while I conquered them. I remembered that no +one could take away my good conscience, and I could not think that I +should be forsaken. + +I passed the day very comfortably, and even cheerfully; I sometimes +forgot that I had any trouble. Just after tea, the minister came in; +he shook hands very kindly with me, but he looked very serious, and +fixed his eye right in my face. + +O, if I had not had a good conscience then, how could I have borne +that look! but it seemed to me as if I could feel my soul coming up +into my face, to tell its own innocence; I am sure my looks must +have said, I am not afraid, for I have done no wrong. + +He seemed more satisfied, but he told me that he had been to Mrs.--, +where I had lived, and she had told him that the evidence was so +great of my dishonesty that she could not doubt it. She was only +sorry for me. + +"We have determined," said he, "to try you; I cannot but hope that +you are what you seem, innocent; but time will show." + +I had felt so proud of my character, that the idea of going upon +trial was hard for me to bear, and I just answered that I would go; +I was not as grateful as perhaps I ought to have been, for it was +very good in him to believe me innocent, in spite of all that was +told him against me, and I ought to have thanked him for his +compassion upon such a forlorn creature as I was then. + +Many years after, I found out what I had been accused of, and I had +the satisfaction of having my innocence acknowledged. The morning of +the day when I left my mistress, she had received some money in +gold. She had counted all the pieces over very carefully, and was +about putting them away, when she was called suddenly out of the +room to see a friend at the door upon important business. It was +cold, and she called me, and sent me into the room for her shawl, +where I never even saw the gold. + +Her brother, who had come with her friend, ran into the room to warm +himself while they were talking; he saw the gold, and, to tease his +sister, put one of the eagles into his pocket meaning to return it +the same day. + +He was in a merchant's counting house, and that very day was sent +out of town upon important business, at only a minute's warning. He +was a careless fellow, and forgot his jest, and did not learn till +long afterwards its sad consequences. + +My mistress, who knew that no one had entered the room but her +brother and I, and was certain of her accuracy in counting the +money, was convinced that I was a thief. She had believed some ill- +natured things the other servant, who disliked me, had said against +me, and had become ready to think ill of me. When, long after, this +lady found out her injustice, she took pains to declare my innocence +and to ask my forgiveness. But ladies should be careful not to +accuse poor girls wrongfully, and not to leave money about. Terrible +ruin may follow such carelessness. + +After I had lived five years at the minister's, I married a +carpenter, a good man, whom my friends all liked; and, though I was +almost broken hearted at leaving my happy home, I was willing to +give up all for him. + +And then new troubles and trials began. My husband was not very +successful at first, but I took in sewing, and we got along; we +loved each other, and were very happy. But about a year and a half +after our marriage, he had a fall from a house, and injured his +spine, and after a sickness of three months he died. + +At the time he was brought home so dreadfully hurt, I had an infant +six weeks old; I was not very strong, and nursing my husband, and +the care of my infant, and my distress at his death, all together, +were too much for me; I had a severe illness. The doctor, who was a +very kind man, took care of me and sent me a nurse, who tended me +through the worst of my illness, and did not leave me till I was +able to crawl about, and help myself and take care of my poor baby, +who had been sadly neglected; for I was so sick that I required all +the nurse's attention; and now came my hardest trial. + +One night in December, about three months after my husband's death, +I was sitting over my little fire late in the evening, reading my +Bible, in hopes that those words of comfort might quiet my grief, +when I was startled by a knock at the door, and my landlord entered. +He lived in the other part of the house in which he rented me one +room; I never liked this man, and at first I felt frightened, but in +a minute I got over it. + +"I want the rent," he said. + +"But you know," I said, "all my troubles, and that my poor husband +left nothing, that I have been sick, and that I have no money; I +shall soon be able to earn enough to pay you, if you will only take +pity on me and wait till I can." + +"Well," said he, "one good turn deserves another; perhaps I'll +accommodate you if you will do something for me." + +"If it is any thing I can do," I said, "I should be glad to do it, +and very thankful to you for your kindness in waiting for the rent." + +He went into the other room and brought in a large bundle of laces +and silks and other valuable goods. "I want you," said he, "to open +your feather bed and put all these things into it; they are rightly +mine, but I have my reasons for wishing to hide them; some goods +have been stolen, and the constables are after them, and if they +were to see these they might seize them instead of those they are +searching for, and it would make a great bother." + +I had no doubt they were stolen goods, and I said immediately that I +would not do what he wished me to, but as civilly as I could. + +"I will," said he, "give you one of the pieces of cambric for your +trouble, and I will never ask you for this last quarter's rent; it +will be a great favor to me, for they know that you are sick, and +you have the credit of being very honest, and the things would not +be touched in your bed, and a great deal of trouble would be saved." + +"I will," said I, "keep the credit of being honest; I can have +nothing to do with any of these things; your conscience can best +tell whether they are honestly come by." + +"Do you dare," said he, "to say I stole them?" in such a loud voice +as to wake up my poor baby and to make me start. + +"I say nothing," I answered, "but that it is against my conscience +to do what you asked me to do." + +He flew into a passion, and said, "Conscience or no conscience, you +do as I ask you to, or out of my house you go this very night." + +"Not to-night," I said. + +"Yes, to-night," he answered. "Do as I tell you, and you have no +rent to pay, and this piece of cambric is yours, and I am your +friend; but refuse me, and out of the house you go this very night; +I have warned you long enough to pay the rent." + +I told him that I could not do what was against my conscience for +all the goods of this world, and that if he was so cruel as to turn +me out of doors, God would protect me and my child. "But," said I, +"are you not afraid to do such a wicked thing, it is so dark and +stormy, and my poor baby"--and at the thought that it had no father +to protect it, I burst into tears, and could not speak. + +He was silent, and seemed to feel some pity. Presently he said, +"Well, you may stay till daylight, but then you must either hide +these things for me, or you must march. And I suppose it will not +worry your stomach to let these things stay here till then." So he +put the goods on a chair, and laid my cloak and bonnet upon them. + +As soon as he was gone, and his door shut, I took the things and put +them all just outside of the door. I was too much troubled and +frightened to go to bed. At break of day he was in my room again. +"Will you do as I desire," said he, "or will you clear out? I'll +make you pay for putting these things on the dirty floor." He +stopped a minute. "Come, now, hide these things, and we are friends, +and no trouble about your rent, and all's right, you know." + +I thank heaven that I never hesitated; it did not seem a possible +thing to me that I should assist this man in hiding his stolen +goods. I am certain that I should have rather died. + +I cannot think now how it was that I felt so calm and so strong. I +collected together a small bundle of clothes, and tried to wrap up +my baby so that the cold air should not come to her; it seemed as if +I could hear my conscience say, "Be not afraid;" I felt as if I was +not alone. + +I left the house, determining to go from door to door till I found +some one to take me in. I was refused admittance at two or three; +and then I remembered a poor widow who had sent me broth when I was +sick, and I went to her. It was hardly daylight when I knocked; +there was a driving sleet, but my heart did not fail me, my God did +not forsake me. + +It was some time before the good woman came down; I had taken my own +cloak to cover my dear baby, and I was wet to the skin, and had such +an ague fit from cold that I could hardly speak to beg shelter for +heaven's sake. + +She took me in, she made a fire, and got me something hot to drink; +she took my child, and dried and warmed it, and put her and me to +bed. + +I found that the fever I had just been cured of was returning; the +cold and wet was too much for my strength; I thought I might die, +and I told the kind widow my story, and the name of the clergyman +with whom I had lived in the country, and begged her if I should +grow worse to send for him, for I knew he would be my friend. It was +fortunate I did, for I grew ill very fast; I had a high fever, and +did not know afterwards what I said. + +She sent for him. He came and told her that all I said was true; he +got me a nurse and physician, and gave the poor widow money for me, +and said he would pay all my expenses, and thanked her as much, she +told me afterwards, for her care of me as if I had been his own +child. + +After the fever left me, a severe rheumatism settled in my back, +which I had strained in lifting my husband. I have never since been +able to stand upright. But O, this was nothing to what I suffered +when they told me, when I was well enough to bear to hear it, they +told me that my baby, my little daughter,--I cannot bear now to +think of it,--she took cold too, and then the weaning her, and all, +it was too much for the little thing; my child went to God who gave +it. + +It seemed at first as if I should die; then I remembered that if I +had done as that wicked man wanted me to do, I should have perhaps +been well, my baby alive and well, and all might have seemed +prosperous; and did I regret that I had not saved her life and my +own health by acting against my conscience? no, not for a moment. I +had no longer a kind husband, I had lost my only child and my +health; and yet the light of God's blessing has ever been in my +heart; when I think of all my trials, and remember that I have kept +a conscience void of offence, O, I cannot tell you what peaceful +thoughts I have, what a strange joy I sometimes experience. + +My kind friend, the minister, had me removed as soon as I was well +enough to his house, and got me this little room in the +neighborhood, where I have taken in sewing work, and have ever since +got a very good living. + +When I inquired about my landlord, I found that the officers came +that morning, found the stolen goods, and carried him to prison. My +friend went to see him, and told him from me that as soon as I could +earn the money, I would pay him what I owed him. This I did with the +very first money I received. I went to see him, and took the rent to +him myself. He did not know me, the stoop had changed me so much. + +Certainly, ladies, she added, I have met with what are called great +misfortunes; I have lost all that I loved best on earth, and I am a +cripple for life; but I still rejoice to think that my mother's +prayer has been heard for me; through the blessing of God I have +been saved from the evil that there is in the world, for I have ever +had the testimony of a good conscience. + +The sun was setting before the old lady had finished her story; its +slanting beams streamed in through the narrow window, and fell on +the gray locks that were parted neatly on her forehead, and on her +bright, calm, uplifted eye, and gave a glow of youthful enthusiasm +and celestial brightness to her face. + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Conscience, by Eliza Lee Follen + diff --git a/old/cnscn10.zip b/old/cnscn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2bfe4f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cnscn10.zip |