The Butler weekly times. (Butler, Mo.) 1881-1918, 1901-05-09

reason except " Dc c1oic w oehfNN O'1A~
OF myself when old age should have
made it impossible for me to work
anv longer. | don't know how 1t
Icame about. but | think my mind
must have weakened as old age came
upon me. for the past five years OF
nv life have been years of tempta-
ton. Every day something has
whispered to me, 1T requires but the
adrOit use of a pen and you are rich,
Every night the same voice has said,
You have not lived-you have mere
" existed. Live-live' You have but
a few years left. Live" Night after
night | fought that voice. But /
never defeated it. 1t always came
| back with arguments more alluring
! than ever. | knew that it was no
voice of the devil that Twas fighting
was having a conflict with myself.
10. was so ashamed. Al the Joy,
the happiness of my life had been in
the thought that | was honest: that
other people considered me honest
would have trusted me around the
world I could hardly look my EN-
plOyer in the face He was a shrewd
unfeeling man, but he never suspected
what q struggle was going on in my
breast. Ii he had been u more gen
erOus man perhaps he would have
| been more suspicious. But he trusted
me implicitly-snd reduced my sal
ary from time to time on the plea
that he could easily get younger men
to do my work for less money. 1t
so happened that by the alteration
OF single figure could put in my
pocket $40, 900 in cash, and it would
be more than probable that the firm
would not find out the mistake fer
months. | yielded. 1t was Satur-
day and the house closed at noon. [
made arrangements to leave on Mon
day morning for Spain and in the
meantime proposed to have a glimpse
of the world
remember the feeling of citation
that came over me when | locked up
the office that afternoon and stepped
out into the street. Ten thousand
dollars was a great sum. 1t would
have kept me in comparative afflu-
ence the rest of my life. | should be
happy at last. But the moment |
stepped into the street | knew that
happiness would never be mine. The |
first person | met turned his head |
away from me. I suppose>it was by |
accident; but l thought, | believed, |
that he could read the story of my
sin in my eyes, in my face. And so
it seemed with all the rest. thought
that those who looked away from me
did SO because they were ashamed
that a creature made in the image of
God could be so base | thought
that those who looked at me were
looking at me in amazement and
scOrn. thought that those who did
neither the one nor the other were
hurrying by to escape even contact
for a moment with me.
That night [ went to the theater
1t was the first time l had been to
the play IN 10 years. thought there
that the lines were all directed at me. r.,
A woman raised her opera glass and
felt that | was the object of her at
tentiOn. | did not know why, but | ,
elt that her escort must have told
her that | was thief. 1t seemed to
ne that the little girl who sat on my
eft tried to edge as far away from {
ne as she could. | rushed from the
heater and walked rapidly up and
Town the street. There a new ter
or smote me Ii all these other peo-
pie guessed already at my crime, why
lot the police? The fear of prison
anne upon me. | skunk through the
streets back to my home. And then :,
passed the most awful night of nv
existence. | will not tell YOU its hor- :
'ors. Suffice it to say that when the =,
lawn broke | knew what was the
natter with me. 1t was not insanity. :
It was conscience. | knew what pun
shment God had melted out for nv
rhine. 1t was torture | could not
get away from. And it would never
md. The suggestion that it would
never end caused me to think-to
reason. Ii | We're to suffice as the
aw prescribes perhaps that awful
conscience would at last be stilled. ;