, and
when he saw his father, he asked him what the conscience meant.

Robert's father liked to have his children make such inquiries, and did all
that he could to encourage them in doing so.

"There are two ways, Robert," said he, "of explaining things. One is by
telling what they are, directly, and the other is by telling what they do.
I find that my children generally like the last of these methods better
than they do the first; and I am not sure but, on the whole, it is quite as
good as the other. At any rate, I shall try to describe conscience by
pointing out some of its effects. In other words, I shall tell you a story.
Some twenty-five years ago--it may be thirty; how time slides away!--I knew
a boy who had one of the kindest of mothers, but whose father had died
before his recollection. I think--indeed I know--he loved his mother,
though he was sometimes thoughtless, and once in a while disobedient. One
day, in midsummer, when the blackberries were ripe in the woods, and the
trout were sporting merrily in the brook, Charles--for that was the name of
the boy--came running to his mother, all out of breath, and said that
Joseph Cone and Charley Corson had come with their baskets and fish-lines,
and wanted he should go with them. 'Oh, such fine times as they are going
to have, mother! Mayn't I go? Blackberries are ripe now, and there are lots
of them over in Mr Simpson's woods. And oh! such splendid trout! One of the
boys caught a trout last Saturday, so big that he couldn't hardly pull it
out of the water! Oh, I _do_ want to go, mother! I'll bring home a
fine string of trout--I know I will. Ha! ha! ha!' And Charley danced up and
down the room, and clapped his hands, and laughed very loudly at the idea,
I suppose, of his outwitting the simple little fish."

Robert laughed, too, when his father came to this part of the story, and
said he thought that was something like counting the chickens before they
were hatched.

"Yes," continued Mr Mason; "but I am afraid that was not the worst of it,
by a good deal; for Charles knew well enough that his mother wanted him at
home that day, and he ought not to have urged her so hard. 'My dear,' said
that kind, indulgent lady, 'I will let you do just as you choose about
going. You know I want you to help me about the house to-day, and I should
be very sorry to have you leave me. But I don't wish to govern you by
force. I want to see you mind because you love me--not because you