e rightful owner of the horse, which
was accordingly delivered up to him. When Charles Carey heard the
unwelcome news, he quietly remarked, "It is hard for me to lose the
money; but I am glad the man has recovered his property."

About a year afterward, having occasion to go to a tavern in
Philadelphia, he saw a man in the bar-room, whom he at once recognized
as the person who had sold him the horse. He walked up to him, and
inquired whether he remembered the transaction. Being answered in the
affirmative, he said, "I am the man who bought that horse. Didst thou
know he was stolen?" With a stupified manner and a faltering voice, the
stranger answered, "Yes."

"Come along with me, then," said Charles; "and I will put thee where
thou wilt not steal another horse very soon."

The thief resigned himself to his fate with a sort of hopeless
indifference. But before they reached the magistrate's office, the voice
within began to plead gently with the Quaker, and turned him from the
sternness of his purpose. "I am a poor man," said he, "and thou hast
greatly injured me. I cannot afford to lose fifty dollars; but to
prosecute thee will not compensate me for the loss. Go thy way, and
conduct thyself honestly in future."

The man seemed amazed. He stood for a moment, hesitating and confused;
then walked slowly away. But after taking a few steps, he turned back
and said, "Where can I find you, if I should ever be able to make
restitution for the wrong I have done?"

Charles replied, "I trust thou dost not intend to jest with me, after
all the trouble thou hast caused me?"

"No, indeed I do not," answered the stranger. "I hope to repay you, some
time or other."

"Very well," rejoined the Friend, "if thou ever hast anything for me,
thou canst leave it with Isaac T. Hopper, at the corner of Walnut and
Dock-streets." Thus they parted, and never met again.

About a year after, Friend Hopper found a letter on his desk, addressed
to Charles Carey. When it was delivered to him, he was surprised to find
that it came from the man who had stolen the horse, and contained twenty
dollars. A few months later, another letter containing the same sum, was
left in the same way. Not long after, a third letter arrived, enclosing
twenty dollars; the whole forming a sum sufficient to repay both
principal and interest of the money which the kind-hearted Quaker had
lost by his dishonesty.

This last letter stated that the writer had no thoughts