"How is that, grandmother? our goodness cannot make them pretty and good."
"It does not make them so, Jessie, but it makes us feel them to be so."
"I do not see how, grandmother."
"Look, Jessie, at the water, and tell me what you see in it."
"The blue sky and a white cloud sailing over it, and the trees on the other side—the water is so clear, grandmother, that I can see every leaf."
"Well, Jessie, when we came here last and the water was low and muddy—do you remember what you saw then?"
"I could hardly see any thing at all, grandmother, and what I did see looked black and ugly."
"And yet, Jessie, there was the same bright blue sky above, and the same green trees on the other side. Now, Jessie, there is some beauty and some goodness in every thing God has made, and he who has a pure conscience is like one looking into a clear stream; he sees it all; while to him who has a bad conscience, all things look as you say they did in the muddy stream—black and ugly."
"Now, grandmother, I know what you mean, and I know it is true too, for if I had told a story to-day, and so father had got that pretty place, I am sure I never should have liked it or thought it pretty again; and then I should have been afraid of Mr. Dickinson, and have felt as if he made me tell the story, and so I should not have liked him. But now, grandmother, I think he is a very good man, though he is a little cross sometimes, and I do not feel afraid of him at all."
"No, Jessie, those who do right are seldom afraid, for you know the Bible says, 'the righteous are as bold as a lion.' I am very glad, my child, of all that has happened to you to-day. You may have harder trials of your truth than even this before you die, but you will remember this day, and how happy you have felt for telling the truth; and you will remember, too, if all the good things on earth are offered to you as the price of one falsehood, that your old grandmother told you truth is better than all, Jessie,—truth is better than all. Will you not remember this, Jessie?"