"That weight shall be off my conscience," said Mr. Levering to himself, as he began counting out the change due his customer; and, purposely, he gave her one dollar more than was justly hers in that transaction. The lady glanced her eyes over the money, and seemed slightly bewildered. Then, much to the storekeeper's relief, opened her purse and dropped it therein. "All right again!" was the mental ejaculation of Mr. Levering, as he saw the purse disappear in the lady's pocket, while his breast expanded with a sense of relief. The customer turned from the counter, and had nearly gained the door, when she paused, drew out her purse, and emptying the contents of one end into her hand, carefully noted the amount. Then walking back, she said, with a thoughtful air-- "I think you 've made a mistake in the change, Mr. Levering." "I presume not, ma'am. I gave you four and thirty-five," was the quick reply. "Four, thirty-five," said the lady, musingly. "Yes, here is just four, thirty-five." "That's right; yes, that's right," Mr. Levering spoke, somewhat nervously. "The article came to six dollars and sixty-five cents, I believe?" "Yes, yes; that was it!" "Then three dollars and thirty-five cents will be my right change," said the lady, placing a small gold coin on the counter. "You gave me too much." The customer turned away and retired from the store, leaving that dollar still on the conscience of Mr. Levering. "I'll throw it into the street," said he to himself, impatiently. "Or give it to the first beggar that comes along." But conscience whispered that the dollar wasn't his, either to give away or to throw away. Such prodigality, or impulsive benevolence, would be at the expense of another, and this could not mend the matter. "This is all squeamishness," said Mr. Levering trying to argue against his convictions. But it was of no avail. His convictions remained as clear and rebuking as ever. The next day was the Sabbath, and Mr. Levering went to church, as usual, with his family. Scarcely had he taken a seat in his pew, when, on raising his eyes, they rested on the countenance of the lady from whom he had abstracted the dollar. How quickly his cheek flushed! How troubled became, instantly, the beatings of his heart! Unhappy Mr. Levering! He could not make the usual responses that day, in the services; and when the congregation joined in the swelling hymn of praise, his voice was heard not in the general thanksgiving. Scarcely a word of the eloquent sermon reached his ears, except something about "dishonest dealing;" he was too deeply engaged in discussing the question, whether or no he should get rid of the troublesome dollar by dropping it into the contribution box, at the close of the morning service, to listen to the words of the preacher. This question was not settled when the box came round, but, as a kind of desperate alternative, he cast the money into the treasury.