“_My child is forever lost, and my heart is broken. How could you do this cruel thing? We have done you no harm, but only kindness; we made our house your home, you were welcome to all we had, and this is our reward.”_ The heart of the Infidel was filled with remorse for what he had done, and he said: “_It was wrong—I see it now; but I was only trying to do him good. In my view he was in error; it seemed my duty to teach him the truth_.” Then the mother said: “_I had taught him, all his little life, what I believed to be the truth, and in his believing faith both of us were happy. Now he is dead,—and lost; and I am miserable. Our faith came down to us through centuries of believing ancestors; what right had you, or any one, to disturb it? Where was your honor, where was your shame_?” Y.M. He was a miscreant, and deserved death! O.M. He thought so himself, and said so. Y.M. Ah—you see, _his conscience was awakened_! O.M. Yes, his Self-Disapproval was. It _pained_ him to see the mother suffer. He was sorry he had done a thing which brought _him_ pain. It did not occur to him to think of the mother when he was misteaching the boy, for he was absorbed in providing _pleasure_ for himself, then. Providing it by satisfying what he believed to be a call of duty. Y.M. Call it what you please, it is to me a case of _awakened conscience_. That awakened conscience could never get itself into that species of trouble again. A cure like that is a _permanent_ cure. O.M. Pardon—I had not finished the story. We are creatures of _outside influences_—we originate _nothing_ within. Whenever we take a new line of thought and drift into a new line of belief and action, the impulse is _always_ suggested from the _outside_. Remorse so preyed upon the Infidel that it dissolved his harshness toward the boy’s religion and made him come to regard it with tolerance, next with kindness, for the boy’s sake and the mother’s. Finally he found himself examining it. From that moment his progress in his new trend was steady and rapid. He became a believing Christian. And now his remorse for having robbed the dying boy of his faith and his salvation was bitterer than ever. It gave him no rest, no peace. He _must_ have rest and peace—it is the law of nature. There seemed but one way to get it; he must devote himself to saving imperiled souls. He became a missionary. He landed in a pagan country ill and helpless. A native widow took him into her humble home and nursed him back to convalescence. Then her young boy was taken hopelessly ill, and the grateful missionary helped her tend him. Here was his first opportunity to repair a part of the wrong done to the other boy by doing a precious service for this one by undermining his foolish faith in his false gods. He was successful. But the dying boy in his last moments reproached him and said: