“So will it be with your conscience. If
you don’t heed its voice, you’ll hear
it speaking less loudly each day until its voice will
at last cause you no discomfort. You’ll
then be in a very dangerous moral condition.
No one but God can help you out. This is one reason
why, Bessie, many people can do things that you can
not.
“Satan aimed his first blow at the conscience;
for if he can silence it, then he can lead the soul
deeper and deeper into sin.”
A DOWNWARD STEP.
“I have good news for you, Bessie,” said
Mrs. Worthington as Bessie came skipping into the
room from her play. “Your papa and I have
decided to leave our little home here in Chicago and
buy a home in Michigan.”
“Oh, how nice!” exclaimed Bessie, who
was still in her eighth year. “Shall we
live with Aunt Emma again?”
“Yes, or rather she will live with us,”
said her mother, smiling. “Your auntie’s
health is very poor, and she is tired of the responsibility
of farming; so we’ll relieve her.”
The following weeks were happy ones for Bessie.
The Lord had been good to her in many ways. He
had given her a little baby brother to love and care
for, and now she was about to have a pleasant home
in the country. She had not forgotten the good
times she had enjoyed on the farm with her little
sister, and she was very eager for the month of August
to come, the time when the family was to move.
At last the time came to start. With beating
heart Bessie counted the hours that must pass before
she could run in the orchard and eat the luscious fruit.
It was late in the afternoon when the Worthington
family arrived at their new home. The greetings
over, Bessie was contemplating a ramble where she
had noticed some large red apples hanging; but just
then her aunt said, “Bessie, you must not pick
any of the fruit on the place this summer, as the
farm is rented and the fruit does not belong to us.”
This was such a disappointment to the little girl
that she could not restrain her tears.
As the days passed by, she often looked longingly
toward the tree where hung the beautiful apples, but
she never once thought of pulling one, for her mother
had carefully taught her the great evil of stealing.
“But oh!” thought Bessie, “if only
one of the apples would fall upon the ground, I could
pick it up, and I wouldn’t be stealing it.”
With this wish in her heart, she daily watched the
trees in hopes that just one would fall.
At last her hope was realized. Walking through
the orchard one day after a hard wind-storm, she spied
several large red apples lying in the soft sand.
With a fast-beating heart, she hastened to pick them
all up; and, placing them carefully in her apron,
she hurried to the house, oft repeating to herself,
“I didn’t steal them, for the wind blew
them off.”
