into
purchasing a worthless article."

"As likely as not; but with that I have no concern. I sell it for what
it is, and ask only what it is worth."

"Is it worth anything?"

"Why--yes--I can't say--no." The first words were uttered with
hesitation; the last one with a decided emphasis. "But then it has a
market value, as every article has."

"I cannot sell it to you, my friend," said the old man firmly.

"Why not?" I am sure you can't do better."

"I am not willing to become a party in wronging my neighbors. That is
the reason. The article has no real value, and it would be wrong for
me to take even a farthing per pound for it. You might sell it at an
advance, and the purchaser from you at a still further advance, but
some one would be cheated in the end, for the article never could be
used."

"But the loss would be divided. It isn't right that one man should
bear all. In the end it would be distributed amongst a good many, and
the loss fall lightly upon each."

The good old man shook his head. "My friend," he said, laying his hand
gently upon his arm--"Not very long since I heard you indulging the
most ardent anticipations of Heaven. You expected to get there one of
these days. Is it by acts of over-reaching your neighbor that you
expect to merit Heaven? Will becoming a party to wrong make you more
fitted for the company of angels who seek the good of others, and love
others more than themselves? I fear you are deceiving yourself. All
who come into Heaven love God: and I would ask with one of the
apostles, 'If a man love not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he
love God whom he hath not seen?' You have much yet to learn, my
friend. Of that true religion by which Heaven is formed in man, you
have not yet learned the bare rudiments."

There was a calm earnestness in the manner of the old man, and an
impressiveness in the tone of his voice, that completely subdued his
auditor. He felt rebuked and humbled, and went away more serious than
he had come. But though serious, his mind was not free from anger, his
self-love had been too deeply wounded.

After he had gone away, the property about which so much had been
said, was taken and destroyed as privately as it could be done. The
fact, however, could not be concealed. A friend of a different order
from the pious one last introduced, inquired of the old man why he had
done this. His answer was as follows:

"No man should live for himself alone. Each one