the closet on the top shelf. It seemed as though some one was beside me
all the time telling me to take it and have a good time. It belonged to
me and no one else had a right to it, Satan seemed to say. And what a
good time I could have with it! They would never suspect me of taking
it, and I could have it cashed and no one would ever know.

So I got up in the middle of the night and started right there and then
to be a burglar. I went on tiptoe as softly as I could, and was right in
the middle of the kitchen floor when I stumbled over a little stool and
it made a noise. It was not much of a noise, but to me it seemed like
the shot out of a cannon. I thought it would wake up the whole house,
but nobody but mother woke, and she said, "Who's there?" I said nothing,
only stood still and waited for her to fall asleep again. As I stood
there a voice--and surely it was the voice of God--seemed to say, "Go
back to bed and leave the check alone. It is not yours: it belongs to
your mother. She is feeding and keeping you, and you are doing wrong." I
think if the Devil had not butted in I would have gone to bed, but he
said, "Now you are here no one sees you, and what a good time you can
have with that check!" That settled all good thoughts and I went up to
the closet, put my hand in the pitcher, took the check and went back to
bed. That was my first burglary.

Did I sleep? Well, I guess not! I rolled and tossed all the balance of
the night. I knew I had done wrong. But you see the Devil was there, and
I really think he owned me from the time I stole the cigars--"that
little beginning."

I got up the next morning, ate my breakfast and went to work. I still
had the check, and all I had to do was to go to the bank and get it
cashed. But I was afraid, and how I wished that the check was safe in