Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The pilgrim's call
 Difficulties on setting out
 Man's way of works
 God's gift of grace
 A glimpse of the cross
 The pilgrim in his home
 The arbour on the hill
 Dangers, difficulties, and...
 The armour and the battle
 Shadow and sunshine
 The touchstone of trial
 Pilgrim's converse by the way
 Distant glimpse of vanity fair
 Vexations of vanity fair
 Citizens of vanity fair
 New and old companions
 Life in the great city
 Fogs and mists
 The perilous mine
 Green pastures and still water...
 A few steps aside
 Regrets, but not despair
 A new danger
 The lake among the rocks
 Coming to the river
 The close of the pilgrimage
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: The young pilgrim : a tale illustrative of "The Pilgrim's progress"
Title: The young pilgrim
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00027037/00001
 Material Information
Title: The young pilgrim a tale illustrative of "The Pilgrim's progress"
Physical Description: 287 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
Bunyan, John, 1628-1688
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons,
T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
New York
Publication Date: 1874
Copyright Date: 1874
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Faith -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Temptation -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Statement of Responsibility: by A.L.O.E.
General Note: Added title page and frontispiece printed in colors; other illustrations engraved by Dalziel.
General Note: "This little work ... has been written as a child's companion to the Pilgrim's Progress"--Pref.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00027037
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: notis - ALH9460
oclc - 05878184
alephbibnum - 002238936

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page i
        Page ii
    Front Matter
        Page iii
    Half Title
        Page iv
        Page iv-a
    Title Page
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page ix
        Page x
    Table of Contents
        Page xi
        Page xii
    The pilgrim's call
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    Difficulties on setting out
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Man's way of works
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    God's gift of grace
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    A glimpse of the cross
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
    The pilgrim in his home
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    The arbour on the hill
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    Dangers, difficulties, and doubts
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
    The armour and the battle
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Shadow and sunshine
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    The touchstone of trial
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    Pilgrim's converse by the way
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
    Distant glimpse of vanity fair
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
    Vexations of vanity fair
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
    Citizens of vanity fair
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    New and old companions
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
    Life in the great city
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    Fogs and mists
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
    The perilous mine
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
    Green pastures and still waters
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
    A few steps aside
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
    Regrets, but not despair
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    A new danger
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
    The lake among the rocks
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
    Coming to the river
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
    The close of the pilgrimage
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
    Back Matter
        Page 288
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


TeBaldwin Libmry

Ri morda

fe^-e^Tc) ~ ;-^- t '^ < at ---i r .

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'N 1, 0 Lfl A j U

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A. L. 0. E.,
Author of The Shefherd ofBeitkleke, '' The Si-er Casket,"
"The Robbers' Cave," &c.

"This book, it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize:
It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone; also what he does:
It also shews you how he runs and runs,
Till he unto the Gate of Glory comes.
0 then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together."



T may perhaps be necessary to give a brief explana-
tion of the object of this little work. It has
been written as a CHILD'S COMPANION TO THE
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. That invaluable work is
frequently put into youthful hands long before the mind
can unravel the deep allegory which it contains; and thus
its precious lessons are lost, and it is only perused as
an amusing tale.
I would offer my humble work as a kind of transla-
tion, the term which was applied to it by a little boy
to whom I was reading it in manuscript-a translation of
ideas beyond youthful comprehension into the common
language of daily life. I would tell the child, through
the medium of a simple tale, that Bunyan's dream is a
solemn reality, that the feet of the young may tread the
pilgrim's path, and press on to the pilgrim's reward,


I earnestly wish that I had been able more completely
to carry out the object set before me; but difficulties
have arisen from the very nature of my work. I have
been obliged to make mine a very free translation, full
both of imperfections and omissions. This is more
especially the case where subjects are treated of in the
Pilgrim's Progress which concern the deeper experience
of the soul. Of fearful inward struggles and tempta-
tions, such as befell the author of that work, the gloom
and horrors of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, the
little ones who early set out on pilgrimage usually know
but little. They find the stepping-stones across the
Slough of Despond, and are rarely seized by Giant
Despair. It would be worse than useless to represent
the Christian pilgrimage as more gloomy and painful
than children are likely to find it.
There are other valuable parts of the Pilgrim's Pro-
gress, such as the sojourn in the House Beautiful, which
is believed by many to represent Christian communion,
which could hardly be enlarged upon in a design like
mine; while the present altered appearance of Vanity
Fair has compelled me to wander still further from my
original, if I would draw a picture that could be recog-


nized at the present day, and be useful to the rising
Such as it is, I earnestly pray the Lord of pilgrims to
vouchsafe his blessing on my little work. To point out
to His dear children the holy guiding light which marks
the strait gate and the narrow path of life, and bid
them God speed on their way, is an office which I most
earnestly desire, yet of which I feel myself unworthy.
I may at least hope to lead my young readers to a nobler
instructor, to induce them to peruse with greater interest
and deeper profit the pages of the Pilgrim's Progress,
and to apply to their own characters and their own lives
the precious truths conveyed in that allegory.
A. L. O. E.

Chapt.r Page
I. THE PILGRIM 'S CALL, ... .. ..... ... ... ... 13


III. MAN'S WAY OF WORKS ... ... ... ... ... ... 33

IV. GOD'S GIFT OF GRACE, ... ... ... ... ... ...

V. A GLIMPSE OF THE CROSS, ... ... ... ... ... 52

VI. THE PILGRIM IN HIS HOME, ... ... ... ... 62

VII. THE ARBOUR ON THE HILL, ... ... ... ... ... 68


IX- THE ARMOUR AND THE BATTLE, ... ... ... ... 90

X. SHADOW AND SUNSHINE, ... ... ... ... 102

XI. THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRIAL, ... ... ... ... ... 111

XII. PILGRIMS CONVERSE BY THE WAY, ... ... ... ... 122


XIV. VEXATIONS OF VANITY FAIR, ... ... ... .. ... 143

XV. CITIZENS OF VANITY FAIR, ... ... ... ... ... 151

XVI. NEW AND OLD COMPANIONS, ... ... ...... ... ... 159

XVII. LIFE IN THE GREAT CITY, ... ... ... ... ... 167

XVIII. FOGS AND MISTS, ... ... ... ... .. .. ... ... 181

XIX. DISAPPOINTMENT, ... ... ... ... 189

XX. THE PERILOUS MINE, ... ... ... ... ... .. 197



Chapter Page
XXII. A FEW STEPS ASIDE. .. ... ... ... ... ... .215

XXIII. REGRETS, BUT NOT DESPAIR. ... ... ... ... ... 230

XXIV. A NEW DANGER, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 239

XXV. THE LAKE AMONG THE ROCKS, ... ... ... ... 253

XXVI. COMING TO THE RIVER, ... ...... ... ... 264


)XVIII. CONCLUSION, ... ... ... .. ... ... ... 280




I dreamed, and, behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in a
certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a
great burden upon his back."-Pilgrim's Progress.

" jS this the way to the ruins of St. Frediswed's
Shrine ?" said a clergyman to a boy of about
twelve years of age, who stood leaning against
the gate of a field.
They are just here, sir," replied the
peasant, proceeding to open the gate.
Just wait a moment," cried a bright-haired boy who
accompanied the clergyman ; that is your way, this is
mine," and he vaulted lightly over the gate.
"So these are the famous ruins !" he exclaimed as he
alighted on the opposite side; "I don't think much of
them, Mr. Ewart. A few yards of stone wall, half



covered with moss, and an abundance of nettles is all
I can see."
"And yet this once was a famous resort for pilgrims."
"Pilgrims,-what were they ?" inquired the boy.
"In olden times, when the Romanist religion pre-
vailed in England, it was thought an act of piety to visit
certain places that were considered particularly holy;
and those who undertook journeys for this purpose
received the name of pilgrims. Many travelled thousands
of miles to kneel at the tomb of our Lord in Jerusalem,
and those who could not go so far believed that by visit,


ing certain famous shrines here, they could win the par-
don of their sins. Hundreds of misguided people, in
this strange, superstitious hope, visited the abbey by
whose ruins we now stand; and I have heard that a
knight, who had committed some great crime, walked
hither barefoot, with a cross in his hand, a distance of
several leagues."
A knight barefoot! how strange !" cried young Lord
Fontonore ; "but then he believed that it would save him
from his sins."
Save him from his sins thought the peasant boy,
who, with his full earnest eyes fixed upon Mr. Ewart,
had been drinking in every word that he uttered; save
him from his sins I should not have thought it strange
had he crawled the whole way on his knees !"
"Are there any pilgrims now ?" inquired Fontonore.
"In Romanist countries there are still many pilgrim-
ages made by those who know not, as we do, the one
only way by which sinners can be accounted righteous
before a pure God. But in one sense, Charles, we all
should be pilgrims, travellers in the narrow path that
leads to salvation, passing on in our journey from earth
to heaven, with the cross not in our hands but in our
hearts ; pilgrims, not to the tomb of a crucified Saviour,
but to'the throne of that Saviour in glory !"
Charles listened with reverence, as he always did when
his tutor spoke of religion, but his attention was nothing


compared to that of the peasant, who for the first time
listened to conversation on a subject which had lately
been filling all his thoughts. He longed to speak, to ask
questions of the clergyman, but a feeling of awe kept
him back; he only hoped that the gentleman would con-
tinue to talk, and felt vexed when he was interrupted by
three children who ran up to the stranger to ask for alms.
Begging is a bad trade, my friends," said Mr. Ewart
gravely, I never like to encourage it in the young."
We're so hungry," said the youngest of the party.
"Mother's dead, and father's broke his leg !" cried
another. I
We want to get him a little food," whined the third.
"Do you live near ?" asked Mr. Ewart.
Yes sir, very near."
"I will go and see your father," said the clergyman.
The little rogues, who were accustomed to idle about
the ruin to gain pence from visitors by a tale of pretended
woe, looked at each other in some perplexity at the offer,
for though they liked money well enough, they were by
no means prepared for a visit. At last Jack, the eldest,
said with impudent assurance, Father's not there, he's
taken to the hospital, there's only mother at home."
Mother you said just now that your mother was
I meant-" stammered the boy, (quite taken by sur-
prise; but the clergyman would not suffer him to proceed.


"Do not add another untruth, poor child, to those
which you have just uttered. Do you not know that
there is One above the heavens who hears the words of
your lips, reads the thoughts of your hearts-One who
will judge, and can punish ?"
Ashamed and abashed, the three children made a hasty
retreat. As soon as they were beyond sight and hearing
of the strangers, Jack turned round and made a mock-
ing face in their direction, and Madge exclaimed in an
insolent tone, We weren't going to stop for his ser-
There's Mark there that would take it in every word,
and thank him for it at the end," said Jack.
"Oh, Mark's so odd !" cried Ben ; he's never like
anybody else. No one would guess him for our
These words were more true than Ben's usually were,
for the bright-haired young noble himself scarcely offered
a greater contrast to the ragged, dirty children, than they
with their round rustic faces, marked by little expression
but stupidity on that of Ben, sullen obstinacy on Madge's,
and forward impudence on Jack's, did to the expansive
brow and deep thoughtful eye of the boy whom they had
spoken of as Mark.
Yes," said Jack, he could never even pluck a wild-
flower, but he must be pulling it to bits to look at all its
parts. It was not enough to him that the stars shine to
(193) 2


give us light, he must prick out their places on an old
bit of paper, as if it mattered to him which way they
were stuck. But of all his fancies he's got the worst one
now; I think he's going quite crazed."
What's he taken into his head ?" said Madge.
You remember the bag which the lady dropped at
the stile, when she was going to the church by the
wood ?"
Madge nodded assent, and her brother continued:
"What fun we had in carrying off and opening that bag,
and dividing the things that were in it Father had the
best of the fun of it though, for he took the purse with
the money."
"I know," cried Ben, and mother had the handker-
chief with lace round the edge, and E. S. marked in the
corner. We-more's the shame !-had nothing but some
pence, and the keys ; and Mark, as the biggest, had the
Ah the book !" cried Jack; that's what has put
him out of his wits !"
"No one grudged it him, I'm sure," said Ben, pre-
cious little any of us would have made out of it. But Mark
takes so to reading, it's so odd ; and it sets him a think-
ing, a thinking : well, I can't tell what folk like us have
to do with reading and thinking !"
"Nor I !" cried both Madge and Jack.
I shouldn't wonder," said the latter, as stretched on


the grass he amused himself with shying stones at the
sparrows, I shouldn't wonder if his odd ways had some-
thing to do with that red mark on his shoulder !"
What, that strange mark, like a cross, which made
us call him the Red-cross Knight, after the ballad which
mother used to sing us ?"
"Yes; I never saw a mark like that afore, either from
blow or burn."
Mother don't like to hear it talked of," said Madge.
Well, whatever has put all this nonsense into his
head, father will soon knock it out of him when he comes
back !" cried Jack. "He's left off begging,-he won't
ask for a penny, and he used to get more than we three
together, 'cause ladies said he looked so interesting; and
he'll not so much as take an egg from a nest, -he's turned
quite good for nothing !"
Leaving the three children to pursue their conversation,
we will return to him who was the subject of it. That
which had made them scoff had made him reflect,-he
could not get rid of those solemn words, There is One
above the heavens who hears the words of your lips,
reads the thoughts of your hearts-One who will judge,
and can punish J" They reminded him of what he had
read in his book, The soul that sinneth it shall die; he
knew himself to be a sinner, and he trembled.
Little dreaming what was passing in the mind of the
peasant, Mr. Ewart examined the ruin without noticing


him further, and Mark still leant on the gate, a silent,
attentive listener.
"I think, Charles," said the tutor, "that I should like
to make a sketch of this spot, I have brought my paint-
box and drawing block with me, and if I could only pro-
cure a little water-"
"Please may I bring you some, sir ?" said Mark.
The offer was accepted, and the boy went off at once,
still turning in his mind the conversation that had passed.
Pilgrims in the narrow path that leadeth to salva-
tion,'-I wish that I knew what he meant. Is that -a
path only for holy men like him, or can it be that it is
open to me ? Salvation! that is safety, safety from
punishment, safety from the anger of the terrible God.
Oh, what can I do to be saved !"
In a few minutes Mark returned with some fresh water
which he brought in an old broken jar. He set it down
by the spot where Mr. Ewart was seated.
Thanks, my good lad," said the clergyman, placing a
silver piece in his hand.
Good," repeated Mark to himself; "he little knows
to whom he is speaking."
"It would be tedious to you, Charles, to remain
beside me while I am sketching," said Mr. Ewart; you
will enjoy a little rambling about; only return to me in
an hour."
I will explore !" replied the young lord gaily;


" there is no saying what curiosities I may find to remind
me of the pilgrims of former days."
And now the clergyman sat alone, engaged with his
paper and brush, while Mark watched him from a little
distance, and communed with his own heart.
He said that he knew the one, only way by which
sinners could be accounted righteous-righteous that
must mean good-before a holy God! He knows the
way; oh, that he would tell it to me I have half a
mind to go up to him now; it would be a good time
when he is all by himself." Mark made one step for-
ward, then paused. I dare not, he would think it so
strange. He could not understand what I feel. He
has never stolen, nor told lies, nor sworn ; he would
despise a poor sinner like me. And yet," added the
youth with a sigh, he would hardly sit there, looking
so quiet and happy, if he knew how anxious a poor boy
is to hear of the way of salvation, which he says that he
knows. I will go nearer ; perhaps he may speak first."
Mr. Ewart had begun a bold, clever sketch,-stones
and moss, trees and grass were rapidly appearing on the
paper, but he wanted some living object to give interest to
the picture. Naturally his eye fell upon Mark, in his tat-
tered jacket and straw hat, but he forgot his sketch as he
looked closer at the boy, and met his sad, anxious gaze.
You are unhappy, I fear," he said, laying down his



Mark cast down his eyes, and said nothing.
You are in need, or you are ill, or you are in want
of a friend," said the clergyman with kind sympathy in
his manner.
Oh, sir, it is not that-" began Mark, and stopped.
Come nearer to me, and tell me frankly, my boy,
what is weighing on your heart. It is the duty, it is the


privilege of the minister of Christ to speak comfort to
those who require comfort."
Can you tell me," cried Mark, with a great effort,
the way for sinners-to be saved ? "
"The Saviour is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the
Gate by which alone we enter into salvation. Believe
on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved. The
just shall live by faith."
"What is faith ?" said Mark, gathering courage from
the gentleness with which he was addressed.
Faith is to believe all that the Bible tells us of the
Lord, His glory, His goodness, His death for our sins, to
believe all the promises made in His Word, to rest in them,
hope in them, make them our stay, and love Him who
first loved us. Have you a Bible, my friend ?"
I have."
And do you read it ? "
Very often," replied Mark.
Search the Scriptures, for they are the surest guide;
search them with faith and prayer, and the Lord will
not leave you in darkness, but guide you by his
counsel here, and afterward receive you to glory."
Mr. Ewart did not touch his pencil again that day,
his sketch- lay forgotten upon the grass. He was
giving his hour to a nobler employment, the employ-
ment worthy of angels, the employment which the Son
of God Himself undertook upon earth. He was seeking


the sheep lost in the wilderness, he was guiding a sinner
to the truth.
I hope that I have not kept you waiting," exclaimed
Charles, as he came bounding back to his tutor ; "the
carriage has come for us from the inn ; it looks as if we
should have rain, we must make haste home."
Mr. Ewart, who felt strongly interested in Mark, now
asked him for his name and address, and noted down
both in his pocket-book. He promised that, if possible,
he would come soon and see him again.
"Keep to your good resolutions," said the clergyman,
as he walked towards the carriage, accompanied by
Charles ; "and remember that though the just shall live
by faith, it is such faith as must necessarily produce
repentance, love, and a holy life."
Mr. Ewart stepped into the carriage, the young lord
sprang in after him, the servant closed the door and
they drove off. Mark stood watching the splendid
equipage as it rolled along the road, till it was at last
lost to his sight.
I am glad that I have seen him-I am so glad that
he spoke to me-I will never forget what he said !
Yes, I will keep to my good resolutions; from this hour
I will be a pilgrim to heaven, I will enter at once by
the strait gate, and walk in the narrow way that
leadeth unto life !"



They drew nigh to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the
plain; and they being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The
name of the slough was Despond."-Pilgrim's Progress.

VENING had closed in with rain and storm,
and all the children had returned to the
cottage of their mother. A dirty, uncom-
fortable abode it looked, most unlike those
beautiful little homes of the peasant which
we see so often in dear old England, with the ivy-
covered porch, and the clean-washed floor, the kettle
singing merrily above the cheerful fire, the neat rows of
plates ranged on the shelf, the prints upon the wall, and
the large Bible in the corner.
No; this was a cheerless-looking place, quite as much
from idleness and neglect as from poverty. The holes in
the window were stuffed with rags, the little garden in
front held nothing but weeds, the brick floor appeared
as though it had never been clean, and everything lay
about in confusion. An untidy-looking woman, with


her shoes down at heel, and her hair hanging loose
about her ears, had placed the evening meal on the
table; and round it now sat the four children, busy
with their supper, but not so busy as to prevent a
constant buzz of talking from going on all the time
that they ate.
"I say, Mark," cried Jack, what did the parson
pay you for listening to him for an hour ? "
How much did you get out of him ? said Madge.
"Any money? asked Ann Dowley, looking up
Mark laid sixpence on the table.
I daresay that you might have got more," said
I did get more-but not money."
What, food, or clothes, or-"
Not food, nor clothes, but good words, which were
better to me than gold."
This announcement was received with a roar of
laughter, which did not, however, disconcert Mark.
Look you," he said, as soon as they were sufficiently
quiet to hear him, "look you if what I said be not
true. You only care for things that belong to this life,
but it is no more to be compared to the life that is to
come than a candle to the sun, or a leaf to the forest !
Why, where shall we all be a hundred years hence ? "
In our graves, to be sure," said Ben.



"That is only our bodies-our poor, weak bodies; but
our souls, that think, and hope, and fear, where will
they be then ? "
"We don't want to look on so far," observed Jack.
"But it may not be far," exclaimed Mark. Thou-
sands of children die younger than we, there are many,
many small graves in the churchyard ; death may be near
to us, it may be close at hand, and where will our souls
be then ?"
I don't know," said Madge; "I don't want to
think," subjoined her elder brother; their mother only
heaved a deep sigh.
Is it not something," continued Mark, to hear of
the way to a place where our souls may be happy when
our bodies are dust ? Is it not something to look for-
ward to a glorious heaven, where millions and millions of
years may be spent amongst joys far greater than we
can think, and yet never bring us nearer to the end of
our happiness and glory ?"
"Oh, these are all dreams," laughed Jack, "that come
from reading in that book."
They are not dreams exclaimed Mark, with
earnestness, they are more real than anything on
earth. Everything is changing here, nothing is sure;
flowers bloom one day and are withered the next; now
there is sunshine, and. now there is gloom ; you see a
man strong and healthy, and the next thing you hear of


him perhaps is his death All things are changing and
passing away, just like a dream when we awake; but
heaven and its delights are sure, quite sure; the rocks
may be moved-but it never can be changed; the sun
may be darkened-it is all bright for ever !"
Oh that we might reach it exclaimed Ann
Dowley, the tears rising into her eyes. Her sons
looked at her in wonder, for they had never known
their mother utter such a sentence before. To them
Mark's enthusiasm seemed folly and madness, and they
could not hide their surprise at the effect which it pro-
duced upon one so much older than themselves.
Ann Dowley had been brought up to better things,
and had received an education very superior to the
station in which she had been placed by her marriage.
For many years she had been a servant in respectable
families, and though all was now changed-how miser-
ably changed !-she could not forget much that she had
once seen and heard. She was not ignorant, though low
and coarse-minded, and it was perhaps from this circum-
stance that her family were decidedly more intelligent
than country children of their age usually are. Ann
could read well, but her only stock of books consisted
of some dirty novels, broken-backed and torn-she
would have done well to have used them to light the
fire. She was one who had never cared much for
religion, who had not sought the Creator in the days of


her youth; but she was unhappy now, united to a hus-
band whom she dreaded, and could not respect-whose
absence for a season was an actual relief; she was poor,
and she doubly felt the sting of poverty from having
once been accustomed to comfort-and Mark's descrip-
tion of peace, happiness, and joy, touched a chord in her
heart that had been silent for long.


"You too desire to reach heaven! cried Mark, with
animation sparkling in his eyes; oh, mother, we will
be pilgrims together, struggle on together in the narrow
way, and be happy for ever and ever!"


The three younger children, who had no taste for
conversation such as this, having finished their meal
slunk into the back room, to gamble away farthings as
they had learned to do from their father. Ann sat
down by the fire opposite to Mark, a more gentle ex-
pression than usual upon her face, and pushing back the
hair from her brow, listened, leaning on her hand.
I will tell you, mother, what the clergyman told
me-I wish that I could remember every word. He said
that God would guide us by his counsel here, and after-
ward receive us to glory. And he spoke of that glory,
that dazzling, endless glory! Oh, mother, how wretched
and dark seems this earth when we think of the blessed-
ness to come! "
"But that blessedness may not be for us," said Ann.
He said that it was for those who had faith, who
believed in the Lord Jesus Christ."
"I believe," said the woman, "I never doubted the
Bible; I used to read it when I was a child."
"We will read mine together now, mother."
And what more did the clergyman tell you ? "
"He told me that the faith which brings us to
heaven will be sure to produce-" Mark paused to
recall the exact words-" repentance, love, and a holy
"A holy life !" repeated Ann, slowly. Painful
thoughts crossed her mind of many things constantly


done that ought not to be done, habits hard to be
parted with as a right hand or a right eye; holiness
seemed something as far beyond her reach as the moon
which was now rising in the cloudy sky; she folded her
hands with a gloomy smile, and said, If that be needful,
we may as well leave all these fine hopes to those who
have some chance of winning what they wish !"
"The way is not shut to us."
"I tell you that it is," said the woman, impatiently;
for the little gleam of hope that had dawned on her soul
had given place to sullen despair. To be holy you must
be truthful and honest-we are placed in a situation
where we cannot be truthful, we cannot be honest, we
cannot serve God! It is all very well for the rich
and the happy; the narrow way to them may be all
strewed with flowers, but to us it is closed-and for
ever!" She clenched her hand with a gesture of
"But, mother-"
"Talk no more," she said, rising from her seat; do
you think that your father would stand having a saint
for his wife, or his son We have gone so far that we
cannot turn back, we cannot begin life again like chil-
dren-never speak to me again on these matters! and,
so saying, Ann quitted the room, further than ever from
the strait gate that leadeth unto life, more determined to
pursue her own unhappy career.


The heart of Mark sank within him. Here was
disappointment to the young pilgrim at the very outset:
fear, doubt, and difficulty enclosed him round, and hope
was but as a dim, distant light before him. But help
seemed given to the lonely boy, more lonely amid his
unholy companions than if he had indeed stood by him-
self in the world. He looked out on the pure, pale
moon in the heavens: the dark clouds were driving
across her path, sometimes seeming to blot her from the
sky; then a faint, hazy light would appear from behind
them; then a slender, brilliant rim would be seen; and
at last the full orb would shine out in glory, making
even the clouds look bright!
"See how these clouds chase each other, and crowd
round the moon, as if they would block up her way "
thought Mark. They are like the trials before me
now, but bravely she keeps on her path through all,
and I must not-I will not despair !"



Now as Christian was walking solitarily liy himself, lie espied one afar
off come crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet
just as they were crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name
that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman."-Pilgrim's Progress.

HE bright morning dawned upon Holyby, the
storm had spent itself during the night, and
nothing remained to mark that it had been but
the greater freshness of the air, clearness of the
sky, and the heavy moisture on the grass that sparkled
in the sun.
As the young pilgrim sat under an elm-tree, eating
the crust which served him for a breakfast, and medi-
tating on the events and the resolutions of the last day,
Farmer Joyce came riding along the road, mounted on a
heavy horse which often did service in the plough, and
drew up as he reached the boy.
"I say, Mark Dowley," he called in a loud, hearty
voice, "you are just the lad I was looking for!"
Did you want me ? said Mark, raising his eyes.
'>13 3{


"Do you know Mr. Ewart ? cried the farmer; and
on Mark's shaking his head, continued, "why, he was
talking to me about you yesterday-a clergyman, a tall
man with a stoop-lie who is tutor to Lord Fontonore."
"Oh, yes :" cried Mark, springing up, "but I did not
know his name. What could lie be saying of me ?"
He stopped at my farm on his drive home yester-
day, and asked me if I knew a lad called Mark Dowley,
and what sort of character he bore. Says I," continued
the farmer, with a broad smile on his jovial face, I
know nothing against that boy in particular, but he
comes of a precious bad lot!"
"And what did he reply ? cried Mark, eagerly.
"Oh, a great deal that I can't undertake to repeat,
about taking you out of temptation, and putting you in
an honest way ; so the upshot of it is that I agreed to
give you a chance, and employ you myself to take care
of my sheep, to see if anything respectable can be made
of you."
"How good in him-how kind!" exclaimed Mark.
"It seems that you got round him-that you found
his weak side, young rogue You had been talking to
him of piety and repentance, and wanting to get to
heaven. But I'll give you a word of advice, my man,
better than twenty sermons. You see I'm thriving and
prosperous enough, and well respected, though I should
not say so, and I never wronged a man in my life. If


you would be the same, just mind what I say, keep the
commandments, do your duty, work hard, owe nothing,
and steer clear of the gin-shop, and depend upon it
you'll be happy now, and be sure of heaven at the last."
Mr. Ewart said that by faith-"
"Faith !" exclaimed the farmer, not very reverently;
"don't trouble yourself with things quite above you-
things which you cannot understand. It is all very well
for a parson like him-a very worthy man in his way,
I believe, but with many odd, fanciful notions. My re-
ligion is a very simple one, suited to a plain man like
me; I do what is right, and I expect to be rewarded;
I go on in a straightforward, honest, industrious way,
and I feel safer than any talking and canting can make
one. Now you mind what you have heard, Mark
Dowley, and come up to my farm in an hour or two.
I hope I'll have a good account to give of you to the
parson; and the young lord, he too seemed to take quite
an interest in you."
"Did he ? said Mark, somewhat surprised.
Yes, it's odd enough, with such riches as he has,
one would have thought that he had something else to
think of than a beggar boy. Why, he has as many
thousands a-year as there are sheaves in that field! "
He had a splendid carriage and horses."
Carriage he might have ten for the matter of that.
They say he has the finest estate in the county of York;


but I can't stay here idling all day," added the farmer;
" you come up to my place as I said, and remember all
you've heard to-day. I have promised to give you a
trial; but mark me, my lad, if I catch you at any of
your old practices, that moment you leave my service.
So, honesty is the best policy, as the good old proverb
says." With that he struck his horse with the cudgel
which he carried in his hand, and went off at a slow,
heavy trot.
"There is a great deal of sense in what he has said,"
thought Mark, as he turned in the direction of Anne's
cottage to tell her of his new engagement. Keep the
commandments, work hard, and steer clear of the gin-
shop, and you'll be sure of heaven at the last!' These
are very plain directions any way, and I'm resolved to
follow them from this hour. Some of my difficulties
seem clearing away; by watching the sheep all the day
long I shall be kept from a good many of my tempta-
tions. I shall have less of the company of my brothers,
I shall earn my bread in an honest way, and yet have
plenty of time for thought. Keep the commandments,'
let me think what they are; and he went over the ten
in his mind, as he learned them from his Bible. I
think that I may manage to keep them pretty strictly,
but there are words in the Word of God which will
come to my thoughts. A new commandment I give
you, that ye love one another: and, He that hateth his


brother is a murderer;-how can 1 love those who dis-
like me ?-'tis impossible; I don't believe that any one
The first thing that met the eyes of Mark on his
entering the cottage put all his good resolutions to flight.
Jack and Ben were seated on the brick floor, busy in
patching up a small broken box, and as they wanted
something ,to cut up for a lid, they had torn off the
cover from his beautiful Bible, and thrown the book it-
self under the table! Mark darted forward with an
oath-alas! his lips had been too long accustomed to
such language for the habit of using it to be easily
broken, though he never swore except when taken by
surprise, as in this instance. He snatched up first- the
cover, and then the book, and with fiery indignation
flashing in his eyes, exclaimed, I'll teach you how to
treat my Bible so !"
Your Bible !" exclaimed Ben, with a mocking laugh;
" Mark thinks it no harm to steal a good book, but it's
desperate wicked to pull off its cover!"
Oh, that's what the parson was teaching him !" cried
Jack. Provoked beyond endurance, Mark struck him.
"So it's that you're after!" exclaimed Jack, spring-
ing up like a wild cat, and repaying the blow with in-
terest. He was but little younger than Mark, and of
much stronger make, therefore at least his match in a
struggle. The boys were at once engaged in fierce


fight, while Ben sat looking on at the unholy strife,
laughing, and shouting, and clapping his hands, and
hallooing to Jack to "give it him :"
"What are you about there, you bad boys ?" ex-
claimed Ann, running from the inner room at the noise
of the scuffle. Jack had always been her favourite son,
and without waiting to know who had the right in the
dispute, she grasped Mark by the hair, threw him vio-
lently back, and, giving him a blow with her clenched
hand, cried, "Get away with you, sneaking coward that
you are, to fight a boy younger than yourself:"
"You always take his part, but he'll live to be your
torment yet!" exclaimed Mark, forgetting all else in the
blind fury of his passion.
"He'll do better than you, with all your canting,"
cried Ann. The words in a moment recalled Mark to
himself; what had he been doing? what had he been
saying ? he, the pilgrim to heaven; he, the servant of
God With a bitterness of spirit more painful than any
wrong which could have been inflicted upon him by
another, he took up the Bible which had been dropped in
the struggle, and left the cottage without uttering a word.
Mortifying were Mark's reflections through that day,
as he sat tending his sheep. Keep the command-
ments!" he sadly murmured to himself; "how many
have I broken in five minutes I took God's name in
vain-a terrible sin. It is written, Above all things


d .~


swear not. I did not honour my mother, I spoke in-
solently to her. I broke the sixth commandment by
hating my brother; I struck him; I felt as though I
could have knocked him down and trampled upon him!
How can I reach heaven by keeping the commandments ?
I could as well get up to those clouds by climbing a
tree. Well, but T'll try once again, and not give up


yet. There is no one to provoke me, no one to tempt me
here; I can be righteous at least when I am by myself."
So Mark sat long, and read in his Bible, mended it as
well as he could, and thought of Mr. Ewart and his
words. Presently his mind turned to Lord Fontonore,
the fair, bright-haired boy who possessed so much wealth,
who was placed in a position so different from his own.
"He must be a happy boy indeed !" thought Mark,
with food in abundance, every want supplied, not know-
ing what it is to wish for a pleasure and not have it at
once supplied. He must be out of the way of tempta-
tion too, always under the eye of that kind, holy man,
who never would give a rough word, I am sure, but
would always be leading him right. It is very hard
that there are such differences in the world, that good
things are so very unevenly divided. I wish that I had
but one quarter of his wealth; he could spare it, no doubt,
and never feel the loss." Without thinking what he
was doing, Mark turned over a leaf of the Bible which
lay open upon his knee. Thou shalt not covet, were
the first words that met his gaze; Mark sighed heavily,
and closed the book.
So, even when I am alone, I am sinning still; covet-
ing, repining, murmuring against God's will, with no
more power to stand upright for one hour than this weed
which I have plucked up by the roots. And yet the
0oul that sinneth it shall die. I cannot get rid of these


terrible words. I will not think on this subject any
more, it only makes me more wretched than I was.
Oh! I never knew, till I tried it to-day, how hard, how
impossible it is to be righteous before a holy God!"
So, tempted to banish the thought of religion alto-
gether from his mind, because he felt the law to be too
holy to be kept unbroken, yet dreading the punishment
for breaking it, Mark tried to turn his attention to other
things. He watched the sheep as they grazed, plucked
wild-flowers and examined them, and amused himself as
best he might.
The day was very hot, there was little shade in the
field, and Mark grew heated and thirsty. He wished
that there were a stream running through the meadow,
his mouth felt so parched and dry.
On one side of the field there was a brick wall,
dividing it from the garden belonging to Farmer Joyce.
On the top of this grew a bunch of wild wall-flower,
and Mark, who was particularly fond of flowers, amused
himself by devising means to reach it. There was a
small tree growing not very far from the spot, by climb-
ing which, and swinging himself over on the wall, he
thought that he might succeed in obtaining the prize.
It would be difficult, but Mark rather liked difficulties
of this sort, and anything at that time seemed pleasanter
than thinking.
After one or two unsuccessful attempts, the boy found


himself perched upon the wall; but the flower within
his reach was forgotten. He looked down from his
height on the garden below, with its long lines of fruit-
bushes, now stripped and bare, beds of onions, rows of
beans, broad tracts of potatoes, all the picture of neat-
ness and order. But what most attracted the eye of
the boy was a splendid peach-tree, growing on the wall
just below him, its boughs loaded with rich tempting
fruit. One large peach, the deep red of whose downy
covering showed it to be so ripe that one might wonder
that it did not fall from the branch by its own weight,
lay just within reach of his hand. The sight of that
fruit, that delicious fruit, made Mark feel more thirsty
tnan ever. He should have turned away, he should
have sprung from the wall; but he lingered and looked,
and looking desired, then stretched out his hand to
grasp. Alas for his resolutions! alas for his pilgrim
zeal Could so small a temptation have power to over-
come them ?
Yet let the disadvantages of Mark's education be
remembered: he had been brought up with those to
whom robbing an orchard seemed rather a diversion than
a sin. His first ardour for virtue had been chilled by
failure; and who that has tried what he vainly at-
tempted does not know the effect of that chill ? With
a hesitating hand Mark plucked the ripe peach; he did
not recollect that it was a similar sin which once


plunged the whole earth into misery-that it was
tasting forbidden fruit which brought sin and death into
the world. He raised it to his lips, when a sudden shout
from the field almost caused him to drop from the wall.
Holloa there, you young thief! Are you at it
already ? Robbing me the very first day! Come
down, or I'll bring you to the ground with a vengeance!"
It was the angry voice of the farmer.
Mark dropped from his height much faster than he
had mounted, and stood before his employer with his
face flushed to crimson, and too much ashamed to lift
up his eyes.
Get you gone," continued the farmer, "for a hypo-
crite and a rogue; you need try none of your canting
on me. Not one hour longer shall you remain in my
employ; you're on the high road to the gallows."
Mark turned away in silence, with an almost burst-
ing heart, and feelings that bordered on despair. With
what an account of himself was he to return to his
home, to meet the scoffs and jests which he had too
well deserved ? What discredit would his conduct bring
on his religion! How his profane companions would
triumph in his fall! The kind and pitying clergyman
would regard him as a hypocrite-would feel disappointed
in him. Bitter was the thought. All his firm resolves
had snapped like thread in the flame, and his hopes of
winning heaven had vanished.



Ye cannot be justified by the works of the law: fur b. the deeds of the
law no man living can be rid of his burden."--]'.' ..- Progress.

"- ifAT ails you my young friend ?-has any-
f thing painful happened?" said a kindly
. .:.-' voice, and a hand was gently laid upon the
shoulder of Mark, who was lying on the
S grass amidst the ruins of the old Abbey,
his face leaning on his arms, and turned towards the
earth, while short convulsive sobs shook his frame.
Oh, sir exclaimed Mark, as a momentary glance
enabled him to recognize Mr. Ewart.
Let me know the cause of your sorrow," said the
clergyman, seating himself on a large stone beside him.
"Rise, and speak to me with freedom."
Mark rose, but turned his glowing face aside; he was
ashamed to look at his companion.
"Sit down there," said Mr. Ewart, feeling for the
boy's evident confusion and distress ; "perhaps you are
not yet aware that I have endeavoured to serve you--
to procure you a situation with Farmer Joyce ?"


I have had it, and lost it," replied Mark abruptly.
Indeed, I am sorry to hear that. I trust that no
fault has occasioned your removal."
I stole his fruit," said Mark, determined at least to
hide nothing from his benefactor; he turned me off,
and he called me a hypocrite. I am bad enough," con-
tinued the boy, in an agitated tone; "no one but my-
self knows how bad; but I am not a hypocrite-I am
not "
"God forbid !" said Mr. Ewart ; but how did all
this happen ? "
"I was thirsty, it tempted me, and I took it. I
broke all my resolutions, and now he cast me off, and
you will cast me off, and the pure holy God, He will
cast me off too! I shall never be worthy of heaven!"
Did you think that you could ever be worthy of
heaven ?" said the clergyman, and paused for a reply.
Then receiving none from Mark, he continued-" Not
you, nor I, nor the holiest man that ever lived, One ex-
cepted, who was not only man, but God, was ever
worthy of the kingdom of heaven."
Mark looked at him in silent surprise.
We are all sinners, Mark; all polluted with guilt.
Not one day passes in which our actions, our words, or
our thoughts, would not make us lose all title to eternal
life. The Bible says, There is not one that doeth good,
no, not one.' Every living soul is included under sin."


How can this be ?" said Mark, who had looked
upon the speaker as one above all temptation or stain.
Since Adam, our first parent, sinned and fell, all
his children have been born into the world with a
nature tainted and full of wickedness. Even as every
object lifted up from the earth, if unsupported, will
fall to the ground, so we, without God's grace, naturally
fall into sin."
Then can no one go to heaven ? said Mark.
Blessed be God, mercy has found a means by which
even sinners can be saved! Sin is the burden which
weighs us to the dust, which prevents us from rising to
glory. The Lord Jesus came from heaven that He might
free us from sin, take our burden from us, and bear it
Himself; and so we have hope of salvation through
I wish that I understood this better," said Mark.
I will tell you what happened to a friend of my
own, which may help you to understand our position
towards God, and the reason of the hope that is in us.
I went some years ago with a wealthy nobleman to visit
a prison at some distance. Many improvements have
been made in prisons since then, at that time they were
indeed most fearful abodes. In one damp dark cell,
small and confined, where light scarcely struggled in
through the narrow grating to show the horrors of the
place, where the moisture trickled down the green


stained walls, and the air felt heavy and unwholesome;
in this miserable den we found an unhappy prisoner,
who had been confined there for many weary years.
He had been placed there for a debt which he was
unable to pay, and he had no prospect of ever getting
free. Can you see in this man's case no likeness to
your own ? Look on sin as a debt, a heavy debt, that
you owe: do you not feel that you have no power to
pay it ? "
None," replied Mark gloomily ; none."
"I had the will to help the poor man," continued Mr.
Ewart, "but Providence had not afforded me the means.
I had no more ability to set him free from prison than
I have to rid you of the burden of your sin."
But the wealthy nobleman," suggested Mark.
He had both power and will. He paid the debt at
once, and the prisoner was released. Never shall I
forget the poor man's cry of delight, as the heavy iron-
studded door was thrown open for his passage, and he
bounded into the bright sunshine again! "
And what became of him afterwards ? asked the
He entered the service of his generous benefactor,
and became the most faithful, the most attached of
servants. He remained in that place till he died; he
seemed to think that he could never do enough for him
who had restored him to freedom."


Where is the friend to pay my debt?" sighed Mark.
It has been paid already," said the clergyman.
Paid! Oh, when, and by whom ? "
"It was paid when the Saviour died upon the cross
-it was paid by the eternal Son of God. He entered
for us the prison of this world, He paid our debt with
His own precious blood, He opened the gates of eternal
life; through His merits, for His sake, we are pardoned
and saved, if we have faith, true faith in that Saviour!"
This is wonderful," said Mark, thoughtfully, as
though he could yet scarcely grasp the idea. And
this faith must produce a holy life; but here is the
place where I went wrong-I thought men were saved
because they were holy."
"They are holy because they are _aved Here was
indeed your mistake, my friend. The poor debtor was
not set free because he had served his benefactor, but he
served him because he was set free! A tree does not
live because it has fruit, however abundant that fruit
may be; but it produces fruit because it has life, and
good actions are the fruit of our faith !"
But are we safe whether we be holy or not ?"
Without holiness no man shall see the Lord. Every
tree that beareth not good fruit is hewn down and cast
into the fire."
But I feel as if I could not be holy," cried Mark.
"I tried this day to walk straight on in the narrow


path of obedience to God-I tried, but I miserably
failed. I gained nothing at all by trying."
"You gained the knowledge of your own weakness,
my boy; you will trust less to your resolutions in
future, and so God will bring good out of evil. And
now let me ask you one question, Mark Dowley. When
you determined to set out on your Christian pilgrimage,
did you pray for the help and guidance of God's Spirit?"
Mark, in a low voice, answered, No !"
"And can you wonder then that you failed ? could
you have expected to succeed ? As well might you look
for ripe fruit where the sun never shines, or for green
grass to spring where the dew never falls, or for sails to
be filled and the vessel move on when there is not a
breath of air. Sun, dew, and wind are given by God
alone, and so is the Holy Spirit, without which it is
impossible to please Him."
"And how can I have the Spirit ?" said Mark.
"Ask for it, never doubting but that it shall be sent,
for this is the promise of the Lord: Askc and ye shall
receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be
opened unto you. If ye, being evil, know how to give
good gifts unto your children, how much more shall
your Father which is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to
them that ask him ?"
And what will the Spirit do for me ? "
Strengthen you, increase your courage and your
(193) 4


faith, make your heart pure and holy. The fruit of the
Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness,
goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. Having these
you are rich indeed, and may press on your way rejoic-
ing to the kingdom of your Father in heaven."
But how shall I pray ?" exclaimed Mark. I am
afraid to address the Most High God, poor miserable
sinner that I am."
When the blessed Saviour dwelt upon earth, multi-
tudes flocked around him. The poor diseased leper fell
at his feet, he was not despised because he was unclean;
parents brought their children to the Lord, they were
not sent away because they were feeble; the thief asked
for mercy on the cross, he was not rejected because he
was a sinner. The same gentle Saviour who listened to
them is ready to listen to you; the same merciful Lord
who granted their prayers is ready to give an answer to
yours. Pour out your whole heart, as you would to a
friend; tell Him your wants, your weakness, your woe,
and you never will seek Him in vain !"
There was silence for a few minutes, during which
Mark remained buried in deep, earnest thought. The
clergyman silently lifted up his heart to heaven for a
blessing upon the words that had been spoken; then,
rising from his seat, he said, "I do not give up all hope,
Mark Dowley, of procuring a situation for you yet;
though, of course, after what has occurred, I shall find


it more difficult to do so. And one word before we
part. You are now standing before the gate of mercy,
a helpless, burdened, but not hopeless sinner. There is
One ready, One willing to open to you, if you knock by
sincere humble prayer. Go, then, without delay, seek
ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him
while he is near."
Mark watched the receding figure of the clergyman
with a heart too full to express thanks. As soon as Mr.
Ewart was out of sight, once more the boy threw him-
self down on the grass, but no longer in a spirit of de-
spair. Trying to realize the truth, that he was indeed
in the presence of the Saviour of whom he had heard-
that the same eye which regarded the penitent thief
with compassion was now regarding him from heaven
-he prayed, with the energy of one whose all is at
stake, for pardon, for grace, for the Spirit of God He
rose with a feeling of comfort and relief, though the
burden on his heart was not yet removed. He believed
that the Lord was gracious and long-suffering, that
Jesus came into the world to save sinners; he had
knocked at the strait gate, which gives entrance into
life, and mercy had opened it unto him ;

'__C r



Upon that place stood a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a
Sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with
the Cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his
back."-Pilgrim's Progress.

' ELL, this has been a pretty end to your fine
A pilgrimage !" cried Jack, as Mark, resolved
to tell the truth, whatever it might cost
him, finished the account of his rupture with
the farmer.
"The end !" said Mark ; "my pilgrimage is scarcely
"It's a sort of backward travelling, I should say,"
laughed Jack. You begin with quarrelling and steal-
ing; I wonder what you'll come to at last ?"
Mark was naturally of a quick and ardent spirit, only
too ready to avenge insult, whether with his tongue or
his hand. But at this moment his pride was subdued,
he felt less inclined for angry retort; the young pilgrim
was more on his guard ; his first fall had taught him
to walk carefully. Without replying, therefore, to the


taunt of Jack, or continuing the subject at all, he turned
to Ann Dowley, and asked her if she could lend him a
needle and thread.
What do you want with them ?" asked Ann.
Why, I am afraid that I shall be but a poor hand at
the work, but I thought that I might manage to patch
up one or two of these great holes, and make my dress
look a little more respectable."
And why do you wish to look respectable ?" asked
Madge, glancing at him through the uncombed, unwashed
locks that hung loosely over her brow ; "we get more
when we look ragged."
"To-morrow is Sunday," Mark briefly replied, "and I
am going to church."
To church !" exclaimed every other voice in the
cottage, in a tone of as much surprise as if he had said
that he was going to prison. Except Ann, in better
days, not one of the party had ever crossed the threshold
of a church.
"Well, if ever '" exclaimed Jack ; "why on earth do
you go there?"
I go because I think it right to do so, and because I
think that it will help me on my way."
And what will you do when you get there ?" laughed
I shall listen, learn, and pray."
Ann, who, by dint of searching in a most disorderly


box, filled with a variety of odds and ends, had drawn
forth first thread and then needle, stretched out her hand
towards Mark. Give me your jacket, I will mend it,"
said she.
Oh, thank you, how kind '" he cried, pulling it off,
pleased with an offer as unexpected as it was unusual.
I think," said Madge, that the shirt wants mend-
ing worse than the jacket ; under that hole on the shoul-
der I can see the red mark quite plainly."
Be silent, and don't talk nonsense '" cried Ann, im-
The children glanced at each other, and were silent.
"Are you going to the near church by the wood ?"
said Ann.
No," replied Mark; I have two reasons for going
to Marshdale, though it is six or seven miles off. I would
rather not go where-where I am known; and judging
from the direction in which his carriage was driven, I
think that I should have a better chance at Marshdale of
hearing Mr. Ewart."
Hearing whom ?" exclaimed Ann, almost dropping
her work, whilst the blood rushed up to her face.
Mr. Ewart, the clergyman who has been so kind, the
tutor to Lord Fontonore."
"Lord Fontonore does he live here ?" cried Ann,
almost trembling with excitement as she spoke.
"I do not know exactly where he lives. I should


think it some way off, as the carriage was put up at the
inn. Did you ever see the clergyman, mother ?"
"He used to visit at my last place," replied Ann,
looking distressed.
"I think I've heard father talk about Lord Fontonore,"
said Madge.
No, you never did," cried Ann, abruptly.
But I'm sure of it," muttered Madge in a sullen
If you know the clergyman, that's good luck for us,"
said Ben. I daresay that he'll give us money if we get
up a good story about you; only he's precious sharp at
finding one out. He wanted to pay us a visit."
"Don't bring him here ; for any sake don't bring him
here !" exclaimed Ann, looking quite alarmed. You
don't know the mischief, the ruin you would bring. I
never wish to set eyes upon that man."
"I can imagine her feelings of pain," thought Mark,
by my own to-day, when I first saw the clergyman.
There is something in the very look of a good man which
seems like a reproach to us when we are so different."
The next morning, as Mark was dressing for church,
he happily noticed, before he put on his jacket, the word
Pilgriin chalked in large letters upon the back.
This is a piece of Jack's mischief," he said to him-
self. "' I am glad that it is something that can easily be
set right-more glad still that I saw it in time. I will


take no notice of this piece of ill-nature. I must learn
to bear and forbear."
Mark endured in silence the taunts and jests of the
children on his setting out on his long walk to church.
He felt irritated and annoyed, but he had prayed for
patience; and the consciousness that he was at least try-
ing to do what was right seemed to give him a greater
command over his temper. He was heartily glad, how-
ever, when he got out of hearing of mocking words and
bursts of laughter, and soon had a sense even of pleasure
as he walked over the sunny green fields.
At length Marshdale church came in view. An ancient
building it was, with a low, ivy-covered tower, and a
small arched porch before the entrance. It stood in a
churchyard, which was embosomed in trees, and a large
yew-tree, that had stood for many an age, threw its sha-
dow over the lowly graves beneath.
A stream of people was slowly wending along the
narrow gravel walk, while the bell rang a summons to
prayer. There was the aged widow, leaning on her
crutch, bending her feeble steps, perhaps for the last
time, to the place where she had worshipped from a
child; there the hardy peasant, in his clean smock-
frock, leading his rosy-cheeked boy; and there walked
the lady, leaning on her husband's arm, with a flock of
little ones before her.
Mark stood beneath the yew-tree, half afraid to venture


further, watching the people as they went in. There
were some others standing there also, perhaps waiting
because a little early for the service, perhaps only idling
near that door which they did not mean to enter. They
were making observations on some one approaching.
What a fine boy he looks You might know him
for a lord Does he stay long in the neighbourhood ?"
Only for a few weeks longer, I believe; he has a prodi-


gious estate somewhere, I hear, and generally lives there
with his uncle."
As the speaker concluded, young Lord Fontonore
passed before them, and his bright eye caught sight of


Mark Dowley. Leaving the path which led to the door,
he was instantly at the side of the poor boy.
"You are coming into church, I hope ?" said he
earnestly ; then continued, without stopping for a reply,
" Mr. Ewart is to preach ;" you must not stay outside."
Mark bowed his head, and followed into the church.
How heavenly to the weary-hearted boy sounded the
music of the hymn, the many voices blended together in
praise to the Saviour. God made him think of the
harmony of heaven Rude voices, unkind looks, quarrel-
ling, falsehood, fierce temptations--all seemed to him
shut out from that place, and a feeling of peace stole
over his spirit, like a calm after a storm. He sat in a
retired corner of the church, unnoticed and unobserved :
it was as though the weary pilgrim had paused on the
hot, dusty highway of life, to bathe his bruised feet in
some cooling stream, and refresh himself by the wayside.
Presently Mr. Ewart ascended the pulpit with the
Word of God in his hand. Mark fixed his earnest eyes
upon the face of the preacher, and never removed them
during the whole of the sermon. His was deep, solemn
attention, such as befits a child of earth when listening
to a message from Heaven.
The subject of the Christian minister's address was the
sin of God's people in the wilderness, and the means by
which mercy saved the guilty and dying. He described
the scene so vividly that Mark could almost fancy that


lie saw Israel's hosts encamping in the desert around the
tabernacle, over which hung a pillar of cloud, denoting
the Lord's presence with his people. God had freed
them from bondage, had saved them from their foes,
had guided them, fed them, blessed them above all nations,
and yet they rebelled and murmured against Him. Again
and again they had broken His law, insulted His servant,
and doubted His love; and at last the long-merited
punishment came. Fiery serpents were sent into the
camp, serpents whose bite was death, and the miserable
sinners lay groaning and dying beneath the reptiles'
venomous fangs.
"And are such serpents not amongst us still ?" said
the preacher; "is not sin the viper that clings to the
soul, and brings it to misery and death What ruins the
drunkard's character and name, brings poverty and shame
to his door ? The fiery serpent of sin What brings
destruction on the murderer and the thief? The fiery
serpent of sin What fixes its poison even in the young
child, what has wounded every soul that is born into the
world? The fiery serpent of sin !"
Then the minister proceeded to tell how, at God's
command, Moses raised on high a serpent made of brass,
and whoever had faith to look on that serpent, recovered
from his wound, and was healed. He described the
trembling mothers of Israel lifting their children on high
to look on the type of salvation; and the dying fixing


upon it their dim, failing eyes, and finding life returning
as they gazed !
And has no such remedy been found for man, sink-
ing under the punishment of sin ? Thanks to redeeming
love, that remedy has been found; for as Moses lifted up
the serpent in the wilderness, so hath the Son of Man
been lifted up, that whoso believeth in him should not
perish, but have everlasting life Behold the Saviour
uplifted on the cross, His brow crowned with thorns,
blood flowing from His side, and the wounds in His
pierced hands and feet Why did He endure the tor-
ment and the shame, rude blows from the hands that His
own power had formed-fierce taunts from the lips to
which He had given breath. It was that He might re-
deem us from sin and from death--it was that the blessed
Jesus might have power to say, Look unto Me and be
ye saved, all ends of the earth.
We were sentenced to misery, sentenced to death;
the justice of God had pronounced the fearful words-
The soul that sinneth it shall die One came forward
who knew no sin, to bear the punishment due unto sin;
our sentence is blotted out by His blood ; the sword of
justice has been sheathed in His breast; and now there is
no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus; their
ransom is paid, their transgressions are forgiven for the
sake of Him who loved and gave Himself for them. Oh,
come to the Saviour, ye weary and heavy laden-come


to the Saviour, ye burdened with sin, dread no longer
the wrath of an offended God ; look to Him and be ye
saved, all ye ends of the earth !"
Mark had entered that church thoughtful and anxious,
he left it with a heart overflowing with joy. It was as
though sudden light had flashed upon darkness; he felt
as the cripple must have felt when given sudden strength:
he sprang from the dust, and went walking, and leaping,
and praising God. No condemnation !" he kept repeat-
ing to himself, no condemnation to the penitent sinner !
All washed away-all sin blotted out for ever by the
blood of the crucified Lord Oh, now can I understand
that blessed verse in Isaiah, 'Though your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like
crimson, they shall be as wool.' Praise the Lord, 0 my
soul! and all that is within me, praise His holy name!'"
That hour was rich in blessings to the young pilgrim,
and as he walked towards home, with a light step and
lighter heart, it was his delight to count them over. He
rejoiced in the free forgiveness of sins, which now for the
first time he fully realized. He rejoiced that he might
now appear before God, not clothed in the rags of his own
imperfect works, but the spotless righteousness of his
Redeemer. He rejoiced that the Lord had sealed him for
His own, and given him sweet assurance of His pardon
and His love. Oh, who can rejoice as the Christian re-
joices when he looks to the cross and is healed !



I saw then in my dream that ne went on thus, even until he came to
the bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way. three men fast asleep,
with fetters upon their heels."-Pilgrim's Progress.

HE poor despised boy returned hungry and tired
to a home where he was certain -to meet with
unkindness, where he knew that he would
scarcely find the necessaries of life, and yet
lie returned with feelings that a monarch might have
envied. The love of God was so shed abroad in his
heart, that the sunshine seemed brighter, the earth
looked more lovely; he felt certain that his Lord would
provide for him here, that every sorrow was leading to
joy. He thought of the happiness of the man once pos-
sessed, when he sat clothed and in his right mind at
the feet of the Saviour: it was there that the pilgrim
was resting now, it was there that he had laid his burden
down. The fruit of the Spirit is peace and joy, such joy
as is the foretaste of heaven.
And the love of God must lead to love towards man.
Mark could feel kindly towards all his fellow-creatures


His fervent desire was to do them some good, and let
them share the happiness that he experienced. He
thought of the rude inmates of his home, but without
an emotion of anger; in that first hour of joy for par-
doned sin there seemed no room in his heart for any-
thing but love and compassion for those who were still
in their blindness.
As Mark drew near to his cottage, he came to a piece
of ground overgrown with thistles, which belonged to
Farmer Joyce. He was surprised to find there Jack,
Madge, and Ben pulling up the thistles most busily,
with an energy which they seldom showed in anything
but begging.
"Come and work with us," said Ben ; this ground
must be all cleared to-day."
And why to-day ?" said Mark.
Because Farmer Joyce told us this morning that
when it was cleared he would give us half-a-crown."
You can work to-morrow."
Ah, but to-morrow is the fair-day, and that is why
we are so anxious for the money."
I will gladly rise early to help you to-morrow, but
this day, Ben, we ought not to work. The Lord has
commanded us to keep the Sabbath holy, and we never
shall be losers by obeying Him."
Here's the pilgrim come to preach," cried Madge in
a mocking tone.


I tell you what," said Jack, stopping a moment in
his work, you'd better mind your own business and
be off; I don't know what you have to do with us."
"What I have to do with you !" exclaimed Mark.
" Am I not your brother, the son of your mother ? Am
I not ready and willing to help you, and to rise early if
I am ever so much tired ? "
There was such a bright, kindly look on the pale,
weary face, that even Jack could not possibly be offended.
Now, just listen for a moment," continued Mark;
" suppose that as I was coming along I had spied under
the bushes there a lion asleep that I knew would soon
wake, and prowl in search of his prey, should I do right
in going home and taking care of myself, barring our
door so that no lion could come in, and never telling
you of the danger at all ? "
Madge glanced half-frightened towards the bushes, but
Jack replied, I should say that you were a cowardly
fellow if you did."
What! leave us to be torn in pieces, and never give
us warning of the lion ? cried Ben.
I should be a cowardly fellow indeed, and a most
unfeeling brother. And shall I not tell you of your
danger, when the Evil One, who is as a roaring lion, is
laying wait for your precious souls. As long as you are
in sin you are in danger. Oh, that you would turn to
God and be safe!"


"God will not punish poor children like us," said
Madge, "just for working a little when we are so poor."
The Evil One whispers the very same thing to us
as he did to Eve, Thoi shalt not surely die;' but she
found, as we shall find, that though God is merciful, He
is also just, and keeps His word."
There will be time enough to trouble ourselves about
these things," said Ben.
Take care of yourself, and leave us in peace !" ex-
claimed Jack; "we are not going to be taught by you! "
and turning his back upon Mark, he began to work
more vigorously than ever.
Mark walked up to the cottage with a slow, weary
step, silently praying for those who would not listen to
him. "God can touch their hearts though I cannot'"
thought he. "He who had mercy on me may have
mercy on them."
Never had the cottage looked more untidy or uncom-
fortable, or Ann's face worn an expression more gloomy
and ill-tempered.
Mother," cried Mark cheerfully, have you some-
thing to give me, my long walk has made me so hungry ?"
We've had dinner long ago."
But have you nothing left for me ?"
You should have been here in proper time. It's
all gone."
Exhausted in body, and wounded by unkindness,
(193) 5


Mark needed indeed the cordial of religion to prevent
his spirit from sinking. But he thought of his Lord,
and his sufferings upon earth. "My Saviour knew
what it was to be weary and a hungered-He knew
what it was to be despised and rejected. If He drained
the cup of sorrow, shall I refuse to taste it! If this
trial were not good for me, it would not be sent." So
Mark sat down patiently in a corner of the room, and
thought over the sermon to cheer him.
His attention was soon attracted by Ann's giving two
or three heavy sighs, as if she were in pain; and look-
ing up, he saw a frown of suffering on her face, as she
bent down and touched her ankle with her hand.
Have you hurt yourself, dear mother ? said he.
Yes; I think that I sprained my ankle this morning.
Dear me, how it has swelled !"
I am so sorry cried Mark, instantly rising. You
should put up your foot, and not tire it by moving about.
There," said he, sitting down at her feet, "rest it on my
knee, and I will rub it gently. Is it not more easy now?"
Ann only replied by a sigh, but she let him go on,
and patiently he sat there, chafing her ankle with his
thin, weary fingers. He could scarcely prevent himself
from falling asleep.
That is very comfortable," said the woman at last;
"certainly it's more than any of the others would do for
their mother; they never so much as asked me how I did.


" 7K
j/j~ /'/i


You're worth all the three, Mark," she added bitterly,
" and little cause have you to show kindness to me.
Just go to that cupboard-it hurts me to move-you'll
find there some bread and cheese left."
Mark joyfully obeyed, and never was a feast more
delicious than that humble meal. Never was a grace
pronounced more from the depths of a grateful heart
than that uttered by the poor peasant boy.



Now, about the midway to the top oiF the hill was a pleasant arbour,
made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers."-
Pilgrim's Progress.

SVERAL days passed with but few events to
mark them. Mark did everything for Ann to
save her from exertion, and under his care her
ankle became better. He also endeavoured to
keep the cottage more tidy, and clear the little garden
from weeds, remembering that cleanliness is next to
godliness," and that if any man will not work, neither
should he eat.
One morning Madge burst into the cottage where
Mark and Ann were sitting together. He is coming !"
she exclaimed in a breathless voice; "he is coming-he
is just at the gate "
"Who ? cried Ann and Mark at once.
"The parson-the-"
"Not Mr. Ewart!" exclaimed Ann, starting up in


"Yes it is-the tall man dressed in black."
In a moment the woman rushed to the back room as
fast as her ankle would let her. "I'll keep quiet here,"
she said. If he asks for me, say that I have just gone
to the miller's."
Mother's precious afraid of a parson," said Madge,
as a low knock was heard at the door.
With pleasure Mark opened to his benefactor.
"Good morning," said Mr. Ewart, as he crossed the
threshold. I have not forgotten my promise to you,
my friend. I hope that I have obtained a place for you
as errand-boy to a grocer. Being myself only a tempo-
rary resident in these parts, I do not know much of
your future master, except that he appears to keep a
respectable shop, and is very regular in attendance at
church; but I hear that he bears a high character. Mr.
Lowe, if you suit him, agrees to give you board and
lodging; and if he finds you upon trial useful and
active, he will add a little salary at the end of the year."
"I am very thankful to you, sir," said Mark, his eyes
expressing much more than his lips could. "I trust
that you never will have cause to be sorry for your
Is your mother within ? said Mr. Ewart.
Mark bit his lip, and knew not what to reply, divided
between fear of much displeasing his parent, and that of
telling a falsehood to his benefactor.


She's gone to the miller's," said Madge boldly.
But the clergyman turned away from the wicked
little girl, whose word he never thought of trusting, and
repeated his question to Mark, whose hesitation he could
not avoid seeing.
She is within, sir," said the boy, after a little pause;
then continued with a painful effort, as he could not but
feel that Ann's conduct appeared rude and ungrateful to
one whom above all men he was anxious to please;
" but she would rather not see you to-day."
Very well, I have seen you; you will tell her what
I have arranged." Mark ventured to glance at the
speaker, and saw, with a feeling of relief, that Mr.
Ewart's face did not look at all angry.
It was more than could be said for Ann's, as, after
the clergyman's departure, she came out of her hiding-
place again. Her face was flushed, her manner excited;
and, in a fit of ungovernable passion, she twice struck
the unresisting boy.
Lord Jesus, this I suffer for thee thought Mark ;
and this reflection took the bitterness from the trial.
He was only thankful that he had been enabled to keep
to the truth, and not swerve from the narrow path.
On the following day Mark went to his new master,
who lived in a neighboring town. He found out the
shop of Mr. Lowe without difficulty; and there was
something of comfort and respectability in the appear-


anee of the establishment that was very encouraging to
the boy. To his unaccustomed eye the ranges of shining
brown canisters, each neatly labelled with its contents;
the white sugar-loaves, with prices ticketed in the win-
dow; the large cards, with advertisements of sauces and
soap, and the Malaga raisins, spread temptingly to view,
spake of endless plenty and abundance.
Mark carried a note which Mr. Ewart had given to
him, and, entering the shop, placed it modestly on the
counter before Mr. Lowe.
The grocer was rather an elderly man, with a bald
head, and mild expression of face.. He opened the note
slowly, then looked at Mark over his spectacles, read
the contents, then took another survey of the boy.
Mark's heart beat fast, he was so anxious not to be
So," said Mr. Lowe, in a slow, soft voice, as if he
measured every word that he spoke, "so you are the
lad that is to come here upon trial, recommended by the
Reverend Mr. Ewart. He says that you've not been
well brought up; that's bad, very bad-but that he
hopes that your own principles are good. Mr. Ewart is
a pious man, a very zealous minister, and I am glad to
aid him in works of charity like this. If you're pious,
all's right, there's nothing like that; I vWill have none
about me but those who are decidedly pious!"
Mr. Lowe looked as though he expected a reply, which


puzzled Mark exceedingly, as he had no idea of turning
piety to worldly advantage, or professing religion to help
him to a place. He stood uneasily twisting his cap in
his hand, and was much relieved when, a customer com-
ing in, Lowe handed him over to his shopman.
Radley, the assistant, was a neat-looking little man,
very precise and formal in his manner, at least in the
presence of his master. There was certainly an occa-
sional twinkle in his eye, which made Mark, who was
very observant, suspect that he was rather fonder of fun
than might beseem the shopman of the solemn Mr. Lowe;
but his manner, in general, was a sort of copy of his
master's, and he borrowed his language and phrases.
And now, fairly received into the service of the grocer,
Mark seemed to have entered upon a life of comparative
comfort. Mr. Lowe was neither tyrannical nor harsh,
nor was Radley disposed to bully the errand-boy. Mark's
obliging manner, great intelligence, and readiness to
work, made him rather a favourite with both, and the
common comforts of life which he now enjoyed appeared
as luxuries to him.
"I have been climbing a steep hill of difficulty,"
thought he, "and now I have reached a place of rest.
How good is the Lord, to provide for me thus, with
those who are his servants! "
That those with whom Mark lived were indeed God's
servants, he at' first never thought of doubting. Was


there not a missionary-box placed upon the counter-
was not Mr. Lowe ever speaking of religion-was he
not foremost in every good work of charity-did he not
most constantly attend church ?
But there were several things which soon made the
boy waver a little in his opinion. He could not help
observing that his employer took care to lose no grain
of praise for anything that he did. Instead of his left
hand not knowing the good deeds of his right, it was no
fault of his if all the world did not know them. Then,
his manner a little varied with the character of his
customers. With clergymen, or with those whom he
considered religious, his voice became still softer, his
manner more meek. Mark could not help suspecting
that he was not quite sincere. The boy reproached
himself, however, for daring to judge another, and that
one so much more advanced in the Christian life than
himself. He thought that it must be his own inexperi-
ence in religion that made him doubt its reality in
Thus a few weeks passed in comfort with Mark; but
the pilgrim was making no progress. It is not well for
us to dwell amongst those whose profession is greater
than their practice. The fervour of Mark's first love
-was a little cooled. Alas! in weak,'infirm mortals, such
as we are, how inclined is that fervour to cool! There
were no strong temptations to stir up the flame-no


anxious fears to drive him to the mercy-seat-his prayers
were perhaps more frequent, but they were less deep
and earnest. Mark was tempted to rest a little upon
forms, and think that all must be right, because others
The Christian must not dream that he is only in
danger whilst dwelling with the careless or profane.
The society of professors may be quite as dangerous, by
lulling his conscience to sleep. He is less on his guard
against inward foes, less able to distinguish true religion
in his heart, from the natural desire to please, and many
of God's children on earth have found the arbour more
dangerous than the hill!
Not that Mark did much with which he could re-
proach himself, unless it were that he never sought an
opportunity of going to see his mother. He connected
nothing but ideas of persecution and unkindness with
his home. He thought that by this time John Dowley
might have returned, a man who had ever treated him
with unnatural cruelty; and to say the truth, Mark
rather dreaded going again near the place. I fear that
my pilgrim is falling in the estimation of my reader;
but I am drawing no sinless model of perfection;
and, perhaps, if we closely examine our own hearts, even
after they have been enlightened by the Spirit, there
may be something in our own experience which will
remind us of this chapter of the life of the pilgrim. I


said that Mark suspected a little the sincerity of the
religious professions of his master. This suspicion was
painfully strengthened by an incident which occurred
when he had been a few weeks under his roof.
One night, after the shop had been closed, and prayers
said, and Mark had retired to his small attic, he fancied
that he heard a little noise down below, and crept from
his chamber to listen. All was very still, only the clock
on the stairs seemed to tick twice as loudly as usual.
Then again there was a slight sound, apparently from
the shop, and Mark wondered what, at that hour, it
could be. Softly he crept down the creaking stair, un-
willing to disturb his master, who had retired to rest
rather earlier than usual, happening to feel not very
well. Mark reached the door which opened into the
shop, and there was no doubt left that somebody was
within engaged in some occupation.
Mark observed that the door, though nearly closed,
was not shut, a narrow line of light showed it to be a
little ajar; he pushed it very gently to widen the open-
ing, and within, to his surprise, saw Radley.
"Who's there?" exclaimed the shopman; "why,
Mark, is it you ? That's lucky, you'll come and help
me, I daresay. I am so sleepy to-night-but this must
be done."
"What are you doing ?" said Mark, with a feeling of


"I'm mixing this with that, as you see," replied
PRadley, pointing to two heaps of what looked like coffee
on the counter.

I, 7~.


"Why should you mix them ? "
Oh, ask no questions, and I'll tell you no stories "
said Radley, quite dropping his usual formal manner,
with a laughing look in his eye which startled the
"Do you mean-is it possible-" exclaimed Mark,
his face flushing with indignation as he spoke, that
you are mixing chicory with coffee in order to deceive
our master's customers ? "


"You are very green, or you would know that it is
constantly done."
"It cannot be right," said Mark, "to sell an article
under a false name, and get a false price for it too I
Surely Mr. Lowe does not know what you are doing!"
Oh, you most simple of simpletons! laughed
Radley; "do you suppose that I am doing it for my
own diversion, to serve my pious master against his
will ?"
"You do it by his orders then ?"
"Of course I do."
"I could never have believed that he could have been
guilty of such a thing! exclaimed Mark, more shocked
and disgusted by the hypocrisy of Lowe, than by any of
the open wickedness that he had ever witnessed. "And
you, Radley, how can your conscience let you do what
is so wrong ?"
"My conscience is my master's, I only obey what he
. "Your conscience your master's! Oh no!" exclaimed
Mark; "you will have to answer for yourself before
"If I refused to do this I should have to leave the
grocer's service."
Better leave his service than the service of God."
"I say, young man," replied Radley, still good-
humouredly, though with some appearance of scorn,


" mind your own business, and leave me to mind mine.
When you carry the goods to the customers, no one asks
you whether the parcel holds tea or gooseberry leaves."
But can you endure to kneel down, and repeat
prayers to the Almighty, when you know-"
"I tell you," said Radley, as though he thought it a
joke, my master's religion and mine is like the articles
in this shop, it is mixed. But what matter ? it makes
as good a show as any, it serves our purpose, and I
really think that the world likes to be taken in. We
get on, look respectable, and thrive; what can be better
than that ?"
Better to starve-better to struggle up hill all one's
life, beset with difficulties and trials."
"We'll leave the starving to you, if you- like it; and
as for struggling up hill, only fools do that, if they can
find an easier way round! Now go to your bed, and
rest quiet my lad, and leave me and my conscience to
settle our affairs together."
Startled as from a dream, Mark returned to his attic,
disappointed, disgusted, and grieved. "Can a blessing
ever rest on this house? thought he; "can Lowe ever,
even in this world, be really a gainer by such awful
hypocrisy and deceit ? Oh, I have been too little on
my guard in this place, I have been a drowsy pilgrim
on the way-blessed be God that I am awakened before
too late!"



Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial
of faith where it is ; and for the discovery of those that have none: keep
in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee."-Pilgrim's

ST was long before Mark could get to sleep, and
he awoke almost before it was light. He felt
a heavy oppression which was new to him, and
rose to open the window. The sky was now
of that deep exquisite blue which it wears the
hour before dawn; the few stars that studded the
heavens were growing pale at the approach of morning.
The street was perfectly quiet, not a vehicle was moving
about, and the sleepy sound of a cock crowing at some
distance was the only noise that broke the stillness.
"I feel as though I could not rest," said Mark, "the
sun will rise before long; I will dress myself and go
out, and have a quiet time before I am required to work.
I have been keeping too little watch over myself lately,
I have been too easily contented with the little know-


ledge to which I have attained. Oh, what if I should
have been deceiving myself all the time-if I have never
entered the strait gate at all!" Mark had lost for a
time that sweet assurance which had afforded him such
joy amidst trials.
Putting his Bible in his bosom that he might read it
as he walked, Mark opened the door of his attic. The
instant that he did so he became sensible of a most
powerful smell of fire, and the next moment a volume of
smoke came rolling up from below!
Mark sprang down the staircase with anxious haste,
every step making him more certain of the fearful fact
that the house of his master was on fire! He rushed
first to the sleeping apartment of Radley, then roused
up the servant of the house, and bidding her throw up
the window and call loudly for assistance, hurried to the
bedroom of Mr. Lowe.
Startled from deep sleep, hardly able to comprehend
what had happened, only with a terrible consciousness
that it was something dreadful, the wretched man rose
from his pillow, and was half dragged by Mark from his
apartment, which being immediately over the place of
the fire, was becoming very hot, and full of smoke. Such
an awakening is terrible here-but oh, what will it be
to the hypocrite hereafter, when the trumpet of the
angel shall rouse him from his grave to behold a uni-
verse in flames !


Assistance was speedily given; the cry of "fire!"
brought crowds of neighbours around; pails of water
were passed from hand to hand, and the fire-engine soon
came rattling up the street. The cries and shouts, the
crackling and roaring of the devouring element, the
suffocating dense clouds, through which little could be
seen but tongues of fierce flame, now darting curling
round the wood-work, now streaming upwards and redden-
ing the black canopy of smoke-the stifling heat, the
occasional glimpse of burning rafters, which looked as if
glowing red hot in the fire, all formed a scene which
time could never efface from the memory of those who
beheld it!
Half wild with terror, anxiety, and grief, Lowe pushed
his way here and there through the crowd, sometimes
urging on the firemen, sometimes trying to assist them,
sometimes standing still, to witness in helpless misery
* the destruction of his property. Well might he look on
in misery, for that property was his all! The hypocrite
had not laid up his treasure in heaven, and he now be-
held, consuming before his eyes, that for which he had
been daily bartering his soul!
Before the sun had reached his mid-day height, the
fire had been entirely subdued. The efforts of the fire-
men had prevented it from spreading, but a charred and
blackened shell of a house, floors, rafters, windows, all en-
tirely destroyed, alone remained of the habitation of Lowe!
S(19) 6


The unhappy man was offered shelter in the house of
a sympathizing neighbour, and thither Mark went to see
him. He found him in a pitiable state, his mind almost
crushed by his misfortune, yet still, true to his character,
he professed submission to the decree of Providence, even
while his excessive grief showed how little he felt it,
and intermixed his lamentations with various texts,
thereby edifying his neighbours, perhaps, but shocking
one who knew him better than they did.
He received his errand-boy with great kindness. One
of the most bitter parts of my trial," said the really kind-
hearted though unprincipled man, "is that my ruin will
throw you and poor Radley upon the world. I suppose
that you will return home directly."
"I thought that I would go first to Mr. Ewart, and
ask his advice."
I grieve to say that will no longer be in your power.
That excellent minister was to leave Marshdale for York-
shire yesterday."
This piece of information fell like a heavy blow upon
Mark, and his face showed how much he felt it. Then I
must return to the cottage at once," said he, in a low tone.
I can understand your reluctance, my boy, to be-
come a burden upon your poor parents."
There was not a particle of hypocrisy in Mark; he
wanted no praise for motives which were not his. I
was not thinking about that," said he.


"Ah! I understand," said Lowe, in his own peculiar
tone; "you feel being deprived of the spiritual advan-
tages which you enjoyed while under my roof."
Not exactly that," replied Mark, hesitating and
looking embarrassed, for there was a mixture of this
regret in his reluctance to return home, though it was
not his principal feeling.
The truth was, that Mark dreaded not so much the
poverty and discomfort of Ann's cottage-though he did
not like that-as the positive cruelty which he would
probably have to endure if he returned. Having for
some time slipped his neck from the yoke, he shrank
exceedingly from having to bear it again. A soldier
who fights bravely on the battle-field, if he leave it for
a while till his blood cools and his wounds begin to
stiffen and smart, finds it a much greater trial of courage
to return to his post than to stay there without ever
quitting it.
But Mark seemed to have no other resource, and
bidding a friendly farewell to his late master, who,
whatever he was in the sight of Heaven, had ever been
kind to him, he walked slowly up the street. The
gloomy, threatening clouds above him, seemed like types
of his darkened fate, and the forerunners of a storm.
As he proceeded, pondering over the difficulties of his
. position, he was startled by the sight of a lady, who was
standing at a door at which she had just knocked. Mark


had seen her but once before, but her face was imprinted
on a memory naturally good, especially as the most im-
portant event of his life, his repentance and turning to
God, was in some way connected with her. She was
the lady who had dropped the bag by the stile which
contained Mark's precious Bible.
Now, it had often weighed upon the conscience of the
boy, that his dearest possession was not his by right;
and that if ever he met with its lawful owner, common
honesty bound him to restore it. And yet, to give that
away which had been his life-to walk on in darkness,
without that light which had been his comfort and solace
till now-Mark felt almost as though he could not do
it, and stood hesitating and arguing in his own mind
till the lady entered the house, and the door closed
behind her.
She is rich, she can buy many others," whispered
the Tempter in his bosom. She is certain to have
supplied its loss long ago; but you, where will you find
another? You will lose all your religion with your
Bible, and fall under the temptations which you will be
certain to meet." Was not this mistrust of God's
sustaining power? "And what disgrace," added the
Tempter, "will it be to own taking and using that which
was not yours! Notwithstanding your care, the book
has been injured; it is not worth returning to a lady.
She may question you about the other things in the


bag-the purse, the money, the handkerchief with lace;
of course you cannot betray your family; you will be
looked upon, perhaps punished, as a thief!" These
were the suggestions of a timorous spirit, magnifying
every danger by the way.
But against all this was the plain word of God, Thou
shalt not steal. To keep anything from its owner that
might be restored, was clearly to break the command-
ment. So, after a short inward prayer for the help
which he so much needed, with a heart so low, and a
frame so much exhausted by the excitement and fatigue
of the morning, that it would have been a relief to him
to have sat down and cried, Mark gently rang the
He felt embarrassed when the servant-maid opened
dhe door, and inquired what it was that he wanted.
But, recovering himself, he asked if he might speak with
the lady who had just entered the house. He said that
he had something which he believed that she had lost;
and the servant, without making any difficulty, ushered
him into the p.rlour.
A silver-haired old gentleman and the lady were
there; she had just opened a piano, and was sitting
down to play. Her face looked so gentle and bright
that Mark was somewhat reassured, though most reluc-
tant to part with his treasure.
"What did you want with me, my good boy," said


/ 'I4


the lady, turning round without quitting her seat, hei
fingers resting on the silent notes of the instrument.
Mark drew from his bosom the Bible. I believe,
ina'am, that this is yours," said he.


My long-lost Bible!" exclaimed the lady, rising
with an expression of joy. "Oh! I never thought to see
it again. Where could you have found it ?"
Near a stile, where you had dropped it as you went
to church."
It was in my bag with other things; have you
anything else ? "
"I have nothing else," replied Mark, feeling very
What is your name ?" said the old gentleman, look-
ing up from his paper.
"Mark Dowley, sir," answered the boy.
"Mark Dowley! Ellen, have we not heard that
name before ? "
Oh yes; 'tis the name of the boy in whom dear Mr.
Ewart was interested. Do you not remember his speak.
ing about him ?"
I remember it perfectly well, my dear; it is easy to
imagine what became of the other contents of the bag."
And where are you staying now ?" said Ellen, with
a look of interest; "I hope that you have a good
"I had a good situation last night, but the fire that
happened to-day burned down the house of my master,
and now I am abroad in the world."
Ellen glided to her father, and whispered something
in his ear. Mark's heart beat very quickly, he scarcely


knew why; but it was with a sensation of hope.
After a few minutes of conversation which he could not
hear, Mr. Searle-for that was the gentleman's name-
said aloud, "As you please, my dear; we certainly were
looking out for such a boy. We could take him with us
to Yorkshire; there could be no difficulty about that."
"Would you like," said Ellen, bending her kind eyes
upon Mark, to become one of our household, to accom-
pany us to Silvermere ? Your work would be light,
and your situation comfortable. We live scarcely two
miles from Castle Fontonore."
With a rebound of joy all the greater from the depth
of his late depression, Mark eagerly accepted the offer.
Profiting, however, by the remembrance of past regrets,
and desirous to be more faithful to his duty in future,
he added that he must first obtain the consent of his
You are quite right, my boy," said Mr. Searle,
kindly; "let nothing ever come between you and your
duty to a parent. Her will, next to God's, should be
your law; you never can do too much for her.""
"But it is not desirable to go till to-morrow," said
Ellen; "those heavy clouds have burst; only see how
it rains! The poor boy looks quite knocked up al-
ready; he could occupy the little room here to-night."
This arrangement was finally concluded upon, and the
weary but thankful boy again found a haven of rest.


A comfortable meal was set before him, to which he was
inclined to do full justice. He enjoyed deep untroubled
sleep that night, and awoke in the morning refreshed
and rejoicing. How the difficulties that he feared had
melted away before him How one painful effort made
had brought its own rich reward!



"Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether
to go back or to stand his ground."-Pilgrim's Progress.

i; !UR Pilgrim rose early, with a heart full of hope.
J hj He determined not to quit the house till he
"-.. "4. had seen Mr. Searle or his daughter again, and
1 waited in the hall till they should come down.
Mark's attention was at once riveted by what
he had never seen before-a complete suit of armour
hung against the wall; and while he was looking at it,
and admiring its various parts, the master of the house
approached him unobserved.
"That is a fine suit of armour," said Mr. Searle,
" such as was worn in the time of the Crusades, when
warlike pilgrims went to the Holy Land. Perhaps you
have never heard of such ? "
Yes, sir," replied Mark, modestly.
"There is the helmet, you see, to protect the head;
the mail to cover the body and breast; the weighty


sword, and the pointed shield. You observe the red
cross upon it ? "
The looks of Mark showed the interest that he took.
"We're not done with fighting yet," said the old
gentleman, in a quaint manner which was peculiar to
.him. While our three old enemies-the world, the
flesh, and the devil-are lying in ambush to attack us,
and the Holy Land which we hope to gain is before us,
we must be armed pilgrims, ay, and fighting pilgrims too!"
"Pray go on, sir," said Mark, as the old gentleman
stopped; "I so like to hear of these things."
You see that our Leader has not sent us into battle
unprovided. We have the Helmet of Proof, the Hope
of Salvation, to prevent sinful doubts from wounding
the head. Then the Breastplate of Righteousness to
guard us; for we may be full of knowledge, and quite
correct in our belief, but if we give way to wilful sin,
of what avail is the soundness of the head when the
heart is pierced by the fiery dart? Nor must we
neglect the Girdle of Truth, nor the preparation of the
Gospel of Peace for our feet."
That is a part of the armour which I do not under-
stand," said Mark.
No ? Long before you are as old as I, I hope that
you will experimentally understand it. Yet I should
think that you had known already what it is to tread
some of the rough ways of life."


Mark heartily assented to this.
"And every one knows the difference between walk-
ing with shoes and without them. Were I barefoot, I
should start if I trod on a thorn, I should bleed if I
struck against a sharp-edged stone; and so it is with
the people of this world who are not shod with the
Preparation of Peace. I have known the smallest thing
worry and fret them; they were as wretched from one
small brier in their path, as if it had been one labyrinth
of thorns."
"And are all Christians safe from these little vexations?"
"I can't say that," replied the old gentleman, "I
can't say that. There are many who cannot tread down
small difficulties, but go on their whole way to heaven
shrinking and starting at the least of them. But it
strikes me that is because, while they have put on all
the rest of the armour of God, they have neglected the
sandals for the feet.
Well, to proceed with our description of the armoury
of heaven-We come next to the most wonderful, the
most powerful of weapons-the Sword of the Spirit,
which is the Word of God. Now this flashed so bright,
and its edge was so sharp, in the days of early Chris-
tianity, that many were its conquests in various parts of
the world, and old idolatry fell fast before it. But when
the great Enemy found that it could not be withstood,
he devised a deep-laid scheme to destroy its effect, and


made a curious sheath, all covered with jewels and gold;
and the name of this sheath was Superstition. In this,
for many ages, was the Word of God buried; and though
flashes of its brightness shone out here and there, it was
almost quite hidden from the eyes of the people, till
Wickliffe, and Luther, and many Reformers beside-
some yielding up their blood and their lives for the
truth-drew it from its fatal scabbard, clear and glitter-
ing again; and it sent forth a flash at its unsheathing
that was seen over almost all Europe, and enlightened
the distant shores of the New World.
And now the last thing that we come to is the strong
shield Faith. Without this neither helmet nor breastplate
could have power to resist the shafts of the Enemy. St.
Peter threw it aside in a moment of fear, and instantly
his righteousness was pierced through and through.
And it is not only in battle that our faith is precious;
we pillow our head upon it when we rest, and when we
take water from the wells of salvation, it is in the hollow
of this shield alone that we can raise it to our thirsting
Ellen now came down-stairs, with her Bible in her
hand; that Bible which Mark had prized so dearly, and
parted with so very unwillingly.
"I could not have the heart to deprive you of this,"
said she; "take it, and keep it, and may you ever find
it to be your best comforter and guide."


With what grateful joy Mark replaced the Bible in his
bosom, and with what a courageous heart, about an hour
after, he set forth to ask his mother's consent to remain-
ing with Mr. Searle! He had very little doubt of
obtaining it, or he would hardly have advanced with
such a light, joyous step. When he had quitted the
town, and found himself on the open plain, he gave vent
to his happy emotions in songs of praise. We are com-
manded in everything to give thanks; let us never for-
get to do so when all seems smiling around us; no-
and even when mists fall, and tempests gather over our
heads, let us still remember in everything to give
How many thoughts were awakened in the Pilgrim's
mind, as again he approached his home! There was the
stile where the Bible had been found ; there the stone
upon which he had sat to read it, and felt such terror
flash upon his mind at the words, "The soul that sinneth,
it shall die; there was the piece of ground which the
children had been weeding, when he warned them, but
vainly, to flee from the wrath to come. There was not
a thistle now left on the spot; and as he looked at the
earth, all cleared and prepared for seed, Mark silently
prayed that the grace of God might likewise so prepare
and make ready the hearts of his own little sister and
brothers. He could see over the fields, at a little dis-
tance, the old ruin where he had first met Mr. Ewart;


not a day had passed, since that -meeting, in which Mark
had not prayed with grateful affection for him whose
words had been such a blessing to his soul.
And now Mark stood at the door of the cottage; a
loud, coarse voice which he heard from within announced
to him, before he reached it, that John Dowley had
returned. There were other things to show that a change
had taken place, of which Mark became aware as he
entered the cottage. A large pewter pot stood at the
door, -a black bottle and dirty pack of cards appeared on
the table, a joint of meat was roasting before the fire,
and Ann, who started with surprise on seeing him, wore
a silk shawl and golden ear-rings. John must have
returned with his pockets full of money.
He was sitting at the table, a short, stout-built man,
with a louring expression in his bleared eye, and a face
flushed by intemperance; no one who beheld them
together would have imagined him to be the father of
the pale, thoughtful, intellectual boy, to whose greeting
he returned no answer but something resembling a
growl. Mark fancied that Ann looked sorry to see him;
but that, perhaps, was no sign of unkindness. Jack,
Madge, and Ben, sprang eagerly forward, full of news,
and of things to show him.
"See, Mark, what father has brought me "
"We're getting so rich now!"
"Look at my brooch and my bracelets !"


Such were the sort of exclamations which, uttered all
together, took the place of any words of welcome.
Mark, in his secret heart, thanked Heaven that it was
not his lot to remain in this place.
"Sit down, Mark," said Ann, looking joyless, not-
withstanding her finery; "and be silent, you children,
will you ? One can't hear one's own voice, in the midst
of so much noise."
The children might not have obeyed their mother very
readily, had not a savage look from John secondedherwords.
"I thought that you had a good situation, Mark,"
continued the woman; "you've not been so foolish as
to leave it ? "
"You have not heard, then, of the fire which took
place yesterday: poor Mr. Lowe has been burned out of
house and home. But a far better situation has been
offered to me. If you consent, and if father approve, I
shall go to Yorkshire next week, with-"
Yorkshire muttered John ; "and what's the
gentleman's name ?"
"Searle; he lives at a place called Silvermere."
Silvermere! exclaimed both Dowley and his wife
at once. Anne added, in a voice that was scarcely
audible, That's close to Castle Fontonore "
"Everything is arranged for me," continued Mark;
"but I thought that it would not be right to go so far
without coming and asking your consent."


Consent! thundered Dowley, in a tone so loud
that the cottage rang again, and the astonished children
shrank closer to each other in fear. Do you think
that I ever would consent to your going there ? "
Here was a blow so sudden, so unexpected, that it
almost took away Mark's breath. Recovering himself
soon, however, he began, I should be able to maintain
myself, perhaps even to assist-"
Don't say one word more, or-" John uttered a
horrible oath, but left his hearers to imagine, from his
clenched hand and savage look, what was the threat
which he intended should follow.
"At least," said Mark, in an agitated voice, "allow
me to return and tell Mr. Searle that you forbid me to
go with him. He would think me so ungrateful-"
What do I care what he thinks "
"Oh, is it not enough," cried Mark, in bitterness of
spirit, "that my way is barred, that my hopes are
ruined-" he could not speak on, his heart was too full.
"If he isn't going to cry whispered Jack.
"A pretty pilgrim, to be so soft !" murmured Ben.
These mocking words roused the spirit of the perse-
cuted boy, but it was rather an earthly spirit of indig-
nation than a spirit of endurance for the Lord's sake.
"Let him go," said Anne, "and tell the gentleman
that he can't serve him; he can just say that you've
found something better for him."
193) 7


"He won't return if I once let him go."
"Yes, he'll return ; won't you, Mark ? "
Yes, I will," replied the boy, with difficulty restrain-
ing his tears at even so slight a mark of kindness.
John gave ungracious permission rather by silence than
words, and Mark left the cottage almost choking with
his feelings.
It was a little time before he could regain sufficient
composure even to look his difficulties in the face. Oh,
it is hard to go down into the deep Valley of Humilia-
tion, and few are those called upon suddenly to descend
from their high hopes but meet with some slips by the
Mark was tempted, and this was a grievous tempta-
tion, to doubt even God's goodness and mercy towards
him. Why was he placed in a situation so painful,
why suddenly plunged back into that furnace of trial
from which he had so lately been snatched ? It seemed
to Mark as if the Almighty had forsaken him, as if God
had forgotten to be gracious, and had left a poor mortal
to be tempted beyond what he could bear !
The pilgrims to heaven must expect on their way
thither to meet sometimes with trials like this. The
Evil One whom they served in the days of their ignorance
will not suffer a victim to escape him, without making
efforts-strong and subtle efforts too-to draw back the
ransomed soul to his service. He put rebellious thoughts


into the mind of Mark, like so many fiery darts, to
make him chafe with an impatient and despairing spirit,
under the difficulty of obeying the fifth commandment;
and which of us dare say that in such an inward struggle
we should have stood our ground better than he ?
But Mark had not been so lately warned and armed,
to make no fight against his Enemy. He had still
power to lift up his heart in prayer; to try to recall
some precious promise on which to stay his sinking
spirit. Lo, I amn with you always, even unto the end,"
was the word from Scripture with which he now met
the Enemy. The Saviour whom he loved was beside
him here, the Saviour was witnessing his struggle with
sin, would help him, would bless him, if his faith failed
not. Oh, better that wretched abode with the presence
of his Lord, than the stateliest palace without it!
Could he who had been forgiven so much, could he who
had been promised so much, faint in the moment of
trial! Where should the soldier be but in the battle-
what should a pilgrim do but bear his cross !
With thoughts like these poor Mark was struggling
for submission, and resisting the suggestions of evil; but
the tempter had yet another shaft in his quiver, and tried
by arousing another passion to crush down the resistance
of piety and conscience. Mark heard a quick step behind
him, felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and turning
round beheld John Dowley.

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