THE STORY.

[Illustration:  THE THIEF STEALING THE PEN.]

I wish you could have seen the thief in the act of stealing me.  What a sorry face he had on!  I send you a rough sketch of him—­for I have a little talent at drawing—­taken from memory.  I was lying on the desk, close by a manuscript which I had commenced.  He snatched me as soon as the editor’s back was turned, and ran out of the office.  I wonder the people did not notice that he was a rogue as he passed along the street.  Why, he stared at every body he met, as if he was afraid they were going to give him an invitation to walk to the police office.  The first thing he did was to call at several pawnbroker’s offices, where he tried to sell me.  No one would give him what he asked.  He wanted ten or twelve dollars, I believe.  Well, he gave up that project before night, and I heard him mutter to himself, “If I only had the money for it!” After supper he took me into his room, and when he had locked the door fast, he began to examine me carefully.  “It is a beautiful pen,” said he, and then he tried to see how I would write.  I should think he was a pretty good penman.  He made a great many flourishes with me, and wrote his name several times.  His name was John Smith, by the way, or at any rate, that was the signature he made.  “What a fine pen this is,” said he; “I never wrote with a better pen in my life.  But it won’t do for me to keep it.  I shall be found out, if I do.  Oh, dear!  I wish I had got it without stealing it.  I wonder where I can sell the troublesome thing.”

Just then somebody knocked at the door.  It was a long time before he let the person in.  He had to think what he would do with me first, and it took him a good while to put away the paper he had been scribbling on.  “Why, John!” said the man, when he came in, “what makes you look so frightened?  I should think you took me for a tiger, or some such animal.”  “I’ve got the toothache,” said the thief, “and I have sent for the doctor to pull it out.  I thought he had come when you knocked.  Dear me! how I dread it!  Did you ever have a tooth drawn?”

So you see the fellow told a lie.  Those who break one of God’s commandments, are pretty likely to break more before they get through.  My new owner seemed to find it difficult to get to sleep that night, and after he did get to sleep, he muttered a good deal in his dreams.  Once I heard him say, “No; I bought it of Mr Bagley, in Broadway.”  I could not help thinking that he ought to be content with telling lies when he was awake.

One day he left me on the table when he went out.  It was unfortunate for him.  That night I overheard the chambermaid talking with him about it, and I saw him turn very red in the face.  It was evident she did not believe his story about buying the pen of Mr Bagley, though he told it over and over again, and made use of a terrible oath, which I dare not repeat.  Poor man!  I pitied him.  He was