one trusted me as
before. No one could, for who knew whether my integrity might not again
fail? I could not trust myself until I had obtained strength as well as
pardon from God, nor even then, until I had many times been tried and
tempted, and found His strength sufficient for me."

* * * * *

Bessie was a little girl, not very old. One morning, as she stood before
the glass pinning a large rose upon her bosom, her mother called her to
take care of the baby a few minutes. Now Bessie wanted just then to go
out into the garden to play, so she went very unwillingly.

Her mother bade her sit down in her little chair, placed the baby
carefully in her lap, and left the room. The red rose instantly
attracted the little one's attention, and quick as thought the chubby
little fingers grasped it, and before Bessie could say, "What are you
about?" the rose was crushed and scattered. Bessie was so angry that she
struck the baby a hard blow. The baby, like all other babies, screamed
right lustily. The mother, hearing the uproar, ran to see what was the
matter. Bessie, to save herself from punishment, told her mother that
her little brother Ben, who was playing in the room, had struck the baby
as hard as he could.

Ben, although he declared his innocence, received the punishment which
Bessie so richly deserved. Bessie went to school soon after, but she did
not feel happy.

That night, as she lay in her bed, she could not go to sleep for
thinking of the dreadful wrong she had committed against her brother and
against God; and she resolved that night to tell her mother the next
morning. When morning came, however, she felt as if there was something
kept her back; she could not make up her mind to confess the sin; it did
not seem so great as the night before. It was not much, after all, her
silly heart said. As day after day passed, Bessie felt the burden less
and less, and she might have fallen into the same sin again had a
temptation presented itself, but for a sad event. One morning, when she
came home from school, she found Ben ill with a frightful throat
distemper. He had been so all the forenoon. He continued to grow worse,
and the next evening he died.

Poor Bessie! it seemed as if her heart would break. Kind friends tried
to comfort her. They told her that he was happy; that he had gone to
live with the Saviour who loved little children; and if she was good,
she would go to see him, though