Harry after he had
cast out the evil thought; they come and minister to all who resist
temptation. They come in the heart, and minister with the healing balm
of an approving conscience.

Placing the pocketbook under his head, with the intention of finding
the owner in the morning, he went to sleep. The fatigue and excitement
of the day softened his pillow, and not once did he open his eyes till
the toils of another day had commenced around him. I question whether
he would have slept so soundly if he had decided to keep the
pocketbook.

But the tempter was not banished. He had only been conquered for the
moment--subdued only to attack him again. The first thought of the
treasure, in the morning, was to covet it. Again he allowed his fancy
to picture the comforts and the luxuries which it would purchase.

"No one will know it," he added. "Why shouldn't I keep it?"

"God will know it; you will know it yourself," said the other Harry,
more faithful and conscientious than the outside Harry, who, it must
be confessed, was sometimes disposed to be the "Old Harry."

"No use of being too good. I will keep it."

"_She_ hoped you would be a good boy," added the monitor within.

"I will--that is, when I can afford it."

"Be good now, or you never will."

One hundred dollars!--perhaps five hundred! It was a fortune. The
temptation was very great. But the little angel--the act would forever
banish him from her presence. He would never dare to look at her
again, or even to write the letter he had promised.

"Be true to yourself, Harry. Good first, and rich next."

"I will," exclaimed Harry, in an earnest whisper; and again the
tempter was cast out.

Once more the fine air castles began to pile themselves up before
him, standing on the coveted treasure; but he resolutely pitched them
down, and banished them from his mind.

"Where did you lose it?" said a voice near the wagon.

"I don't know. I didn't miss it till this morning; and I have been to
every place where I was last night; so I think I must have lost it
here, when I put my horse up," replied another.

The first speaker was one of the ostlers; and the moment Harry heard
the other voice he started as though a rattlesnake had rattled in his
path. Was it possible? As the speaker proceeded, he was satisfied
beyond the possibility of a doubt that the voice belonged to Squire
Walker.

"Was there much money in it?" asked the ostler.

"About a hundred and fifty do