"The tearing pangs of hunger, the sharp stinging thrusts of conscience were warring for the victory. Oh, those who have never known the pangs of hunger can but poorly imagine that fearful struggle. At last, thank God! Conscience triumphed. Honesty was victor.
"Bursting into tears, he murmured:
"'God forgive, and have mercy! Mother—little angel-girl smile on me!'
"He returned the coin to the book, and clasping it tightly, replaced it in his pocket.
"'I will not touch one cent; and in the morning, if I live so long, I will find some means to restore it to the owner—all but the little picture—that angel-child has saved me, and I must keep her to watch over me in the future.'
"Slowly he arose, and was proceeding along the street, thinking he could at least return and sleep in the depot, when a loud noise attracted his attention.
"A horse came dashing furiously along the street, drawing after him a buggy in which was crouching a lady almost lifeless with terror. Thoughts as swift as lightning flashed through his mind; he might save her—what though he was trampled to death. Then he surely would be relieved from suffering!
"Summoning up all his little strength—then wonderfully increased by excitement and manly courage—he rushed forward, faced the frightened little animal, seized the reins, and was dragged some distance, still holding firmly on—sustaining no injury save a few bruises—until he succeeded in checking the wild flight. He saw his advantage; then, with a kind voice, he spoke to the horse, patting and rubbing his head and neck, until he became quite gentle. George knew the poor fellow was not vicious but frightened at something he had seen or heard.
"In a few moments he was joined by a crowd—among whom came a gentleman limping and wearing a look of great anxiety.
"George knew his thoughts, and said: