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 teacher was turning to come back to the class, Harry caught up the bright cent, and put it in his pocket. Then his con- science would make itself heard. It cried out, "You wicked, wicked boy, you are a thief, you are a thief, Harry;" and Har- ry's cheeks burned like fire. Poor little Harry went to church, and then went home with the rest of the family; but oh! how unhappy he was all day. That cent in the little side pocket of his coat, seemed to press like lead on his heart. He felt it all the time. He did not think a cent could feel so heavy. When his mother, and brother, and sisters sung