Conscience | Page 8

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