“Do, do, dear Jack! God bless your heart, I wish I could cry that way.”
I walked away quite humiliated; at last I ran, I was so eager to go to Anderson and confess everything. I found him in his cabin—I attempted to speak, but I could not—I pulled out the money, put it on the table, and then I knelt down and sobbed on his knee.
“What is all this, Jack?” said Anderson, calmly; but I did not reply. “I think I know, Jack,” said he, after a pause. “You have been doing wrong.”
“Yes, yes,” replied I, sobbing.
“Well, my dear boy, wait till you can speak, and then tell me all about it.”
As soon as I could, I did. Anderson heard me without interruption.
“Jack,” said he, when I had done speaking, “the temptation” (pointing to the money) “has been very great; you did not resist at the moment, but you have, fortunately, seen your error in good time for the money is still here. I have little to say to you, for your own feelings convince me that it is needless. Do you think that you can read a little? Then read this.” Anderson turned to the parable of the Prodigal Son, which I read to him. “And now,” said he, turning ever the leaves, “here is one verse more.”
I read it: “There is more joy over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine that need no repentance.”
“Be careful, therefore, my dear boy, let this be a warning to you; think well of it, for you have escaped a great danger: the money shall be returned. Go now, my child, to your employment; and if you do receive only halfpence, you will have the satisfaction of feeling that they are honestly obtained.”
I can assure the reader that this was a lesson which I never forgot; it was, however, succeeded by another variety of temptation, which might have proved more dangerous to a young and ardent spirit, had it not ended as it did, in changing the course of my destiny and throwing me into a new path of action: to this I shall now refer.