The Value of a Praying Mother | Page 9

fell asleep, and did not awake again
until very late. He dressed hastily, and, missing his breakfast, hurried
away to his work. He resolved not to be so foolish again, and for a time
did better; but in a few days he had again overslept. He became more
and more neglectful, failing time after time to heed the alarm. At length
it only partially aroused him, and he soon slumbered again. Day by day
it disturbed him less, until at last it did not arouse him at all, although it
sounded as loudly as ever.'
"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."
CHAPTER VII.
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."
As she entered the house, she began to tell how she came by the apples,
but stopped in dismay, for she saw her mother's look of disapproval.
Very tenderly Mrs. Worthington took her little daughter aside and,
sitting down by her, said: "My dear, you don't understand what you've
done: those apples are as truly stolen as if you had picked them from
the tree. You must take them to Mrs. S. and explain that you didn't
know you were stealing them. Taking little things and trying to ease the
conscience by saying, 'It doesn't amount to anything,' causes the
conscience to fall asleep and to cease its activity. Thus the evil habit of
taking what doesn't belong to us becomes a part of our nature, and step
by step we fall into greater sin.
"I once heard of a young man who was about to be hanged upon the
gallows. Just before the fatal moment he received permission to speak
to any of his friends, if he desired. Calling for his aunt, who had reared
him, he moved forward as if to speak to her, but instead