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conscientious about a great many things; morbidly so, I may say. It was
a great many years ago. You probably do not remember it now. Well, I
took a great interest in my work, and I so enjoyed the anguish which
certain pet sins of yours afflicted you with that I kept pelting at you
until I rather overdid the matter. You began to rebel. Of course I began
to lose ground, then, and shrivel a little--diminish in stature, get
moldy, and grow deformed. The more I weakened, the more stubbornly you
fastened on to those particular sins; till at last the places on my
person that represent those vices became as callous as shark-skin. Take
smoking, for instance. I played that card a little too long, and I lost.
When people plead with you at this late day to quit that vice, that old
callous place seems to enlarge and cover me all over like a shirt of
mail. It exerts a mysterious, smothering effect; and presently I, your
faithful hater, your devoted Conscience, go sound asleep! Sound? It is
no name for it. I couldn't hear it thunder at such a time. You have some
few other vices--perhaps eighty, or maybe ninety--that affect me in much
the same way."
"
This is flattering; you must be asleep a good part of your time."
Yes, of late years. I should be asleep all the time but for the help I
"
get."
"
"
Who helps you?"
Other consciences. Whenever a person whose conscience I am acquainted
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