Wreaths of Friendship by T. S. Arthur and F. C. Woodworth

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He never went to church with me but once; and then, strange enough, the
minister preached from this text: "The way of transgressors is hard."
I could feel the poor man's heart throb, as the clergyman slowly read
the words. When he went home, he was in great distress--for the sermon
was a very solemn one--and he took down from a shelf a small Bible, all
covered with dust, and looked at some words which were written on the
first leaf. I don't wonder he wept, as he read them--"A mother's gift."
He remembered where the text was, and he turned to it, and read it again
and again. "Yes," said he, "it is true--too true. But what shall I do?
I have been to the theatre so much now, that I can't be happy unless I
go; and where am I to get the money? I wish I had never begun to steal.
Oh! that was a sad day for me, when I listened to wicked boys, and
robbed that old man's pear tree." I saw then how he first became a
thief; and I thought I should like to have every body know that when
boys are stealing apples, and pears, and peaches, they are serving an
apprenticeship to the business of stealing on a larger scale. I myself
have heard of many a highway robber, who began his career in the orchard
of his neighbor.

Mr Smith did not reform. About three months ago, he stole a horse from
a stable in the upper part of the city, and immediately left for some
place in New Jersey. It was a beautiful horse, but he could not sell
him. People were suspicious. At last he was arrested, and had to go to
Sing Sing prison. I hope he will make up his mind to be an honest man
now; for he has certainly learned, by pretty dear experience, that
"honesty is the best policy." I can't think he would steal any more if
they should let him out. Still, I am not sure. The habit was very
strong.

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