n their pockets they forgot it belonged to the
creditor, and not to themselves, and so got to fancy they were rich
when they were really poor. This false notion led them to indulge in
idle expenses, whereas, if they had paid regularly, they would have
had this one temptation the less: a young tradesman, when he is
going to spend money, should at least ask himself, "Whether this
money is his own or his creditors'?" This little question might help
to prevent many a bankruptcy.

A true Christian always goes heartily to work to find out what is
his besetting sin; and when he has found it (which he easily may if
he looks sharp), against this sin he watches narrowly. Now I know it
is the fashion among some folks (and a bad fashion it is), to fancy
that good people have no sin; but this only shows their ignorance.
It is not true. That good man, St. Paul, knew better.[3] And when
men do not own their sins, it is not because there is no sin in
their hearts, but because they are not anxious to search for it, nor
humble to confess it, nor penitent to mourn over it. But this was
not the case with James Stock. "Examine yourselves truly," said he,
"is no bad part of the catechism." He began to be afraid that his
desire of living creditably, and without being a burden to any one,
might, under the mask of honesty and independence, lead him into
pride and covetousness. He feared that the bias of his heart lay
that way. So instead of being proud of his sobriety; instead of
bragging that he never spent his money idly, nor went to the
ale-house; instead of boasting how hard he worked and how he denied
himself, he strove in secret that even these good qualities might
not grow out of a wrong root. The following event was of use to him
in the way of indulging any disposition to covetousness.

[3] See Romans, vii.

One evening as he was standing at the door of his shop, a poor dirty
boy, without stockings and shoes, came up and asked him for a bit of
broken victuals, for he had eaten nothing all day. In spite of his
dirt and rags he was a very pretty, lively, civil spoken boy, and
Mr. Stock could not help thinking he knew something of his face. He
fetched him out a good piece of bread and cheese, and while the boy
was devouring it, asked him if he had no parents, and why he went
about in that vagabond manner? "Daddy has been dead some years,"
said the boy; "he died in a fit over at the Grayhound. Mammy says he
used to live at this shop, a