Front Cover
 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 Cover

Group Title: young pilgrim
Title: The young pilgrim
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003467/00001
 Material Information
Title: The young pilgrim a tale illustrative of "The pilgrim's progress"
Physical Description: 317, <2> p., <1> leaf of plates : col. ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
New York ;
Publication Date: 1864
Copyright Date: 1864
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1864   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1864
Genre: Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
General Note: "This little work ... has been written as a child's companion to the Pilgrim's Progress"--Preface.
General Note: Publisher's advertisement follows text.
Statement of Responsibility: by A.L.O.E.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003467
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: ltqf - AAA4744
notis - ALH9459
oclc - 48561016
alephbibnum - 002238935

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Table of Contents
        Page ix
        Page x
    The pilgrim's call
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Difficulties on setting out
        Page 24
        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
        Page 44
        Page 45
    God's gift of grace
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    A glimpse of the cross
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    The pilgrim in his home
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    The arbour on the hill
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    Dangers, difficulties, and doubts
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    The armour and the battle
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Shadow and sunshine
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
    The touchstone of trial
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
    Pilgrim's converse by the way
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
    Distant glimpse of Vanity Fair
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    Vexations of Vanity Fair
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
    Citizens of Vanity Fair
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
    New and old companions
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
    Life in the great city
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    Fogs and mists
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
    The perilous mine
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
    Green pastures and still waters
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    A few steps aside
        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
        Page 253
        Page 254
    Regrets, but not despair
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
    A new danger
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
    The lake among the rocks
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
    Coming to the river
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
    The close of the pilgrimage
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
        Page 317
    Back Cover
        Page 318
        Page 319
Full Text




, - .:1



a talt


A. L. 0. E.,
Andlr 4f The SOr C k" Tlu Rkr'a Ca,"
6V. &V.

il he h Me el' e t rMW
AllilWr fe lk, *r leas. d hMH sMslr .

.- 4

IT may perape be necesay to give a bri
explanation of the object of this litt11 work.
It has been written as CumzaS OOmPAmIO
TO THa Pnoams Paooam That invaluble
work is frequently put into youthful hands
long before the mind ean unvmiel the deep
allegory which it contains, and thi its pre-
cioa lesson an lost, and it is only perused a
an amuiing tale.
I would ofhr my humble work &a a kind
of hattion,d the term which was applied to
it by a little boy to whom I was reading it in
manuscript-a translat of ideas beyond
youthful comprehension into the common lan-
guage 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 pilgriam'?
path, and prm on to the pilgrim's reward.
I earnestly wish that I bad been able more
completely to carry out the object set before
me; but difficaltie have arien from the very
nature of my work. I bave been obliged to
make mine a wry fres bnaaeon, oi1l both
of imperhntion ald omimlona This is more
especially the e where subjects are teaed
of in the Plgrim's Progree which concern the
deeper experience of the souL Of feerf in-
ward struggles and temptatioa, such as befell
the author of that work, the gloom and hor-
ror of( the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
the little one who early set out on pilgrimage,
usually know but little. They find the step-
ping-stones across the Sign of Despond, and
are rarely seised by Giant Despair. It would
be worse than useless to represent the Chris-
tian pilgrimage as more gloomy and paineul
than children are likely to and it.
There are other valuable parts of the Pil-
grim's Progrees, such as the sojourn in the

rInarl 4T
Houe Beautift wb is believed by many to
epm nt Chraian oammanio whih could
hardly be oalapd upon in a deilgn Hl
mine; Mwhie the pim altered appesnae
Vanity Fair ha oomplled me to wander idm
ratherr fcm my original, if I would drw a
piotue that could be rewognid at the pr
ent day, and be Miad to the rig geeation.
Skch as it is I eametly pay the Lan d of
pilgrim. to voum His blaelng on my litt1
work. To point out to Hi dear children the
holy guiding light which mauri the utit
gate, and the narrow path of life, and bid them
God speed on their way, is an office whih I
moat earnestly deie, yet of which I feel my-
melf unworthy. I may at lat hope to lead
my young readers to a nobler iastrutor, to
induce them to perme with greater inter
and deeper profit the pages of the Pilgrim's
Progree, and to apply to their own characters
and their own lives, the predous truthe con-
veyed in that allegory.
A.L a


M pulun a oog Og

IL im -lsft k b b 44

VUL EMBM UkdlkUt DU ..a a

ILx Aim4uit 0. I" Bom"i

IlL N.Om a by s W-y .. .. 1
=LK Dbk sho .. 144
XIV. Vusm dVnby hit .. in
XV. a n Fi r In
IVL Now aml 1 Old mwwmsa 76


IX. 2b. Vm M. III
1LXL 4. hwu mi ua Wa., III
XXII A k- Iuk Aide III


A3 N a m
my. A UMDNO Ift
lXV. mel 40 mess sf eO m

lxvi c11Amdl -m -. -. m
xxi.mecl ~emr ue .
xxvii cmi~m



"I drem A and. bal I 6a a m dolhud with rp dall f l
a i rt wih fht ha kam hi a hams. a k k hi band,
md a Wli hmern apm ai b eMk."-P-r* A Apg.i .
" -- this the way to the rains of St.
SFrediswed's shrine' said a olergy-
man to a boy of about twelve
years of age, who stood leaning against the
gate of a field.
"They arejust here, ir," replied the peaant,
proceeding to open the gate.
"Just wait a moment cried a bright-haired
boy who aoompanied the clergyman; "that
is your way, this is mine" and he vaulted
lightly over the gate.
"Bo them are the mouse ruiin!" he ex-

Is TeB mnI m's ca.
delnd as he alighted on the opposite ide;
"I dont think mu of them, Mr. Ewar A
few yard of stone wal, half covered with
mos, and an abundanoe of nettle i all that
I con e."
And yet this once was a famous report for
Plgrinm-what we they inquired the
In olden times, hen the Bomanist religion
prevailed in England, it was thought an sct
of pety to visit certain place that wer oon-
idered particularly holy; and those who
undertook journeys for this purpose received
the name of pigrim Many traveled thon-
mands of mile to kneel at the tomb of our
Lord in Jerualem, and those who oould not
go so for believed that by visiting certain
fmous shrin here, they could win the pardon
of their din Hundreds of misguided people,
in this strange, pentitious hope, visited the
abbey by whose min we now stand; and I
have heard that a knight, who had committed
some great rime, waked hither barefoot, with
a crm in his hand, a distance of several

m moUnAms mL. 1i
"A knight barefooI how I tiange med
young Lord Fotonore; "but tn he believed
that it would mave him nfom his din"
"Save him from his' sdi thought the
pemnt boy, who, with his foll earno eye
Aied upon Mr. wart, had been drinking in
every word that he uttered; are him from
his il I should not have thought it strange
had he rawled the whole way on his kneesI"
Ar there any pilgrim now I" inquired
In Bomanist countries then e sti many
pilgrimage made by those who know nok s
we do, the one only way by which dne cao
be acoounted righteous before a pure God.
But in one sense, harlee, we all hold be
pilgrim travelle in the narrow path that
leads to salvation, pasudng on in our journey
from earth to heaven, with the am not in
our hands but in our heart; pilgrim, not to
the tomb of a acruaed Saviour, but to the
throne of that Sviour in glory I
Charl listened with reverence, a he always
did when his ttor spoke of religion, but hi
attention was nothing compared to that of the
peamnt, who for the fiet time listened to oon-

14 m ma PeM'Lrs CAL.
termaon on a ralect which had lately been
filing all his thoughts He longed to speak
to ask question of the clergyman, but a feeling
of awe kept him baek; he only hoped that
the gentleman would continue to talk, and felt
vexed when he was interrupted by three chil-
dren who ran up to the stranger to ask for
"Begging is a bad trade, my friend" mid
Mr. Ewart gravely, "I never like to encourage
it in the young."
"We're so hungry," mid the youngest of the
Mother' dead, and father's broke his
leg" cried another.
"We want to get him a little food," whined
the thid.
"Do you live near?" asked Mr. Ewart
"Yes er, very near."
I will go and see your father," mid the
The little rogoe, who were aoos tomed to
idle about the ruin to gain pence fom visitor
by a tale of pretended woe, looked at each
other in some perplexity at the offer, for
though they liked money well enough, they

s- rmeeam s ca. 1s
wer by no means prepared fr a vii At
last Jack, the eldest, mid with impudent assr-
anoe, Fathe' not there, he' taken to the
hospital, there's only mother at home"
"Mother you aid jt now that your
mother was dad I"
I meant-" tammered the boy, quite
taken by surprise; but the oal yman would
not sf~er him to proceed.
Do not add another nruth, poor child,
to then which you hIve jut ttered. Do you
not know that there is One above the heamv
who heai the words of your lip, reads the
thoughts of your hearts, One who will judge,
and can punish "
Ashamed and abashed the three chlidnr
made a hasty rrtat As oon as they we
beyond ~iht and hearing of the stronger,
Jack turned round and made a moving face
in their direction, and Madge exclaimed in An
inolent tone, "we weren't going to stop for
his semom."
"There's Mark there that would take it in
every word, and thank him for it at the end,"
aid Jack.
"OhI ark's so oddly" cried Ben; "he's

1 ums umm as OA.U
never like anybody elr No one would gum
him for our brother I"
These words wre more true than Ben'
usually wer for the brlghthired young noble
himmelf maromly oerd a greater ommra to
the ragged, dirty children, than they with their
round rusti fao&,u marked by little expremion
but stupidity on that of Ben, mullen obstinay
on Madge', and forward impodene on Jack's,
did to the expamive brow, and deep thought-
fal eye of the boy whom they had spoken of
as Mark.
"Yea," said Jack, "he oould never een
pluck a wild Gower, bat he mnet be pulling it
to bits to look at all it part It was not
enough to him that the stars ahine to give Mu
light he must prick out their places on an old
bit of paper, as if it mattered to him which
way they we took. But of ll hi foie
he's got the wont one now; I think he's going
quite raised "
Wht's he taken into his head" maid
"You remember the bag which the lady
dropped at the tile, when she was going to
the church by the wood"

tm ruamL's CALL 17
Madg nodded aent and her brother on-
tinned: "What fan we had in arrying of
and opening that bag, and dividing the things
that were in it I Father had the bet of the
fun of it though, for he took the pue with
the money."
"I know," ried Ben, "and mother had the
handkerchief with lace round the edge, and
E R marked in the corner. We,-more's the
shame -had nothing but some penoe, and the
keys; and Mark, a the biggest hadthe book"
"AhI thebook" cried Jack I "that'swhat
has put him out of shb wit I"
"No one grudged it him, I'm mre," mid Ben,
" previous little any of us would have made
out of it. But Mark takes so to ending, its
so odd; and it sets him a thinking a think-
ing: well, I can't tell what folk like have
to do with reading and thinking"
"Nor I I" ried both Madge and Jack.
"I shouldn't wonder," said the latter, a
stretched on the gram he amused himself with
shying stone. at the sprrows, "I sbouldnt
wonder if his odd ways had something to do
with that red mark on his shoulder I"
"What that strange mark, like a cro,
(M 2

s18 -m p m's am.
which made a call him the ied-cro. Knight,
after the ballad which mother mad to sing ar
'Yea I never aw a mark like that afor
diher hAm blow or bm."
Mother don't lke to hear it talked of,"
mid Madge
"Well, whatever has put all thi nomemse
into his head, father will oon knok out of
him when he comes bak r cred Jack. "He's
lef off beggif--he won't k for a penny,
ad he ued to get more than we three to-
gethe, 'ese ladies mid he looked so inteb t-
ing; and he'll not s mch as take an egg
ohm a neA-he's tuaed quite good for
nothing I
Leaving the three children to purone their
oonveation, we will retro to him who wan
the subject of it That which had mde them
scff had made him reflect, he could not get
rid of those olemn word, "There is One above
the heaven who hears the words of your lips,
eads the thought of your heart, One who
will judge, and can punh I" They reminded
him of what he had read in his book, the wul
oht afonetk it shol de, e knew himself to be
a sinner, and he trembled.

e mPUamr' aU. 19
Little dreaming what was paiyng in the
mind of the peamn Mr. Ewart examined the
ruin without noticing him further, and Mark
et0l leant on the ate, a silent attentive
"I think, Oharla," aid the tutor, "that
I should like to make a sketh of this Ipot I
have brought my paint-box and drawing block
with me, and if I oculd only prooue a little

"Pleae may I bring you some, drti" mid
The offr was aepted and the boy went
off at on, etill tuaing in his mind the con*
verstion that had pmed
"'Pilgrims in the narrow path that leadeth
to ~lvation,'-I wish that I knew what he
meant IB ha a path only for holy men like
him, or an it be that it i open to me Sal-
vationi that is safety, safety from punishment,
safety from the anger of the terrible (odl Oh I
what can I do to be mved ~'
In a few minutes Mark returned with some
fresh water which he brought in an old broken
jar. He et it down by the spot where Mr.
Ewar wa sated.

tM mas neoms CALL
"'Iluka my good lad," aid the legyman,
pliaing a ilve pie in hi hand.
"Good!" repeated Mark to himself; "he
little knows to whom he s peaking I"
"It would be tedious to you, Charles to
remain bede me while I am dktching" aid
Mr. Ewart "you will enjoy a little rambling
about, only return to me in In hor."
"I will exple I" replied the young lord
gaily; there is no aing what uriosliti I
may fnd to remind me of the pilgrim of
former day"
And now the clergymn at alone, engaged
with his paper and bruh, while Mark watched
him from a little distance and communed
with his own hear
"He mid that he knew the one, only way
by which innes could be aoooonted righteous
--righteoul that mast mean good--before a
holy odi 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 himset" Mark made one step
forward, then passed. "I dare not, he would
think it so strange He could not under-
stand what I feel He has never stolen, nor

Tia ,aum's CALL.. Sl
told lie, nor worn; he would despse a poor
sinner like me. And yet" added the youth
with a sigh, "he would hardly sit there look-
ing o quiet and happy, if he knew how
anxious a poor boy i to hear of the way of
salvation, which he says that he know I
will go nearer, perhaps he may speak first"
Mr. Ewr had began a bold, clever sketch,
stone and man, trees and gram were rapidly
appealing on the paper, but he wanted some
living obect to give interest to the picture
Naturally his eye fell upon Mark, in his
tattered jacket and straw hat but he forgot
his sketch as he looked clser at the boy, and
met his sad, anxious gaze.
"You are unhappy, I fear," he said, laying
down his pencil.
Mark cast down his eye, and aid nothing
"You are in need, or you are ill, or you are
in want of a friend," aid the clergyman with
kind sympathy in his manner.
"Oh! sir, it is not tha-" began Mark, and
"Oome 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 minitem

2n Ia PwOIeX OAU
of hrirt to speak oamfort to those who require
"Can you tell me," ied Mark, with great
efort "the way for amne-to be saved I"
"The Saviour s the Wacy, te Truth and
the L4 the Gate by which alone we enter
into alvatian. Bed on the Lord Jmsu
O1riwt aGd thou haulbe asd le just ha
lie by faith.
"What is faith aid Mark, gathering
outrage from the gentlenms with which he
was addreaed
Faith is to believe all that the Bible tells
as of the Lord, His glory, His goodnee, His
death for our in To believe all the pro
mime 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.
Serc the Boricrtuhw for they are the
sreit guide; meauh them with faith and
prayer, and the Lord will not leave you in
darkemu, but guide you by His counel here,
and afterward receive you to glory."

Ms- rusn 's ALm S8
Mr. Ewart did not touh his pencil again
that day, his sketch lay forgotten upon the
giaa He was giving his hour to a nobler
employment, the employment worthy of angels,
the employment which the Son of God himself
undertook upon earth. He was seeking the
sheep lost in the wilderness be was guiding a
sinner to the truth.
"I hope that I have not kept you waiting "
exclaimed Charlee 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 saked 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.
SKeep to your good resolutione" id the
clergyman, as he walked towards the carriage,
accompanied by Charles; "and remember that
though th juat sha ll U by faith, it is such
faith as must necessarily produce repenmtae
love, and a holy Wie."
Mr. Ewart stepped into the carriage the
young lord prang in after him, the servant

34 ~WaIOUl o Ismr out.
losed the door and they drove of Mark
stood watching the splendid equipage as it
rolled along the road, t it was at last lost
to his lght
"I am glad that I he seen him,-I am
so glad that he spoke to me,-I will never
forget what he mid Yes, ill keep to my
good resoltione, from this hour I will be a
pilgrim to heaven, I wil enter at onee by the
tat gate, and walk in the narrow way that
ladeth unto life I"

DIOSOUu ox sulm Ous.
"Threy drew l to a n ry lqh dloegh, toit wain tWh ait of
the phisg mW thle b hwdeall dli both Ml mdd lobsh
the be. hei am r s dough wo DmVl.--Pprte's

Evatno had cloed in with rain and orm,
and all the children had retained to the
cottage of their mother. A dirty, unoomfort
able abode it looked, mot unlike those boanti-
fal little homes of the peaant which we ee
s often in dear old England, with the ivy-

wrnomuIs ON Inme OUT. .2l
covered porch, and the cean-wamhed flor, the
kettle singing merrily above the heerfl fire,
the neat rows of plates ranged on the shel,
the print upon the wll, and the large Bible
in the corner.
No, this was a cheeriese-looking place, quite
a much from ideas and neglect as from
poverty. The holes in the window were
stuffed with rage, the little garden in front
held nothing bat weeds, the brick floor ap-
peared a though it had never been lean, and
everything lay about in onft on. An untidy
looking woman, with her shoes down at heel,
and her hair hanging loose about her ear, had
placed the evening meal on the table; and round
it now at the four children, busy with their sup.
per, but not so busy as to prevent a onstant
buz of talking from going on all the time
that they eta
"I say Mark," cried Jack, "what did the
panon pay you for listening to him for an
hour "
"How much did you get out of him said
Any money I" asked Ann Dowly, looking
up eagerly.

t6 D mUoormCULr O su our.
Mark laid szp e on the table
I darey that you might have got more,"
mid Ben.
I did get more,-but not money."
"What, food or lothee, -"
"Not food, nor lothe, but good word,
which were better to me than gold."
This announcement was received with a
roar of laughter, which did not, however, din
concert Mark
"Look you," he iod, as soon a they were
sffidently quiet to hear him, look you if
what I ld be not tne. You only re for
things that belong to thd lisf but it is no
more to be compared to the life that is to
ome, than a handle to the son, or a leaf to
the foretl Why, where shal we all be a hun-
dred years henoe "
"In our grave, to be sure," aid Ben
"That I only our bodies our poor, weak
bodies, but our souls that think, and hope, and
far, where will they be then "
"We don't want to look on so far," observed
"Bu it may OMt be far," exclaimed Mark
"T'oosand of children die younger than we,

DImmrCUm o IBre oCT. 17
there are many, many small grave in the
churchyard; death may be near to u, it may
be dose at hand, and tU ar wiB our oue he

"I don't know," id Madge; "I don't
want to think," subjoined her elder brother;
their mother only heaved a deep sigh.
"Is it not something" continued Mar, "to
hear of the way to a place where or souls
may be happy when our bodies are dust Is
it not something to look forward to a glorious
heaven where mllon ad millions of years
may be spent amongst joys far greater than
we an think, and yet never bring us nearer
to the end of our happiness and glory "
"O I thesere all dream," laughed Jack
"that ome from reading in that book."
"They are not dreams I" exlaimed Mark
with earestnees, they re more rs than
anything an earth I Everything is changing
here, nothing is re, flowers bloom one day
and are withered the next; now thee is sun-
shine and now there is gloom; you se a man
strong and healthy, and the next thing you
hear of himperhaps ihis death All things
are changing and passing away, just like

38 umousaer ow sarrue our.
dream when we awake; but heaven and it
delight are sure, quite ure; the rocks may be
moved,-but it never am be changed; the sun
may be darkened-it is all bright for ever I"
"Oh that we might reach it I" exlaimed
Ann Dowley, the tear 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-
duoed upon one so much older than themselve.
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 familisr and
though all was now changed,-how miserably
changed I-she could not forget much that she
had once seen and heard. She was not ignor
ant, though low and coare-minded, and it ws
perhaps from this crcumstnce 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 oon-
disted of some dirty novels broken-backed and

DINmoUm r amm1 our. n
torn,-she would have done wall to have aned
them to light the h She was one who had
never cared much for religion, who had Dot
sought the Creator in the days of her youth;
but she was unhappy now, united to a husband
whom she dreaded, and would not respeot-
whose absence for a season was an actual
relief; she was poor, and he doubly felt the
ting of poverty frm having once been a-
aotomed to comfort,-and Marks description
of peace, happiness, and joy, touched a chord
in her heart that had been lent for long.
"You too desire to reach heaven!" eried
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 I"
The three younger children who had no
taste for conversation such as thi having
finished their meal slunk into the beak room,
to gamble away frthings as they had learned
to do from their father. Ann a down by the
fire opposite to Mark, a more gentle expresson
than usual upon her faoe, and pushing back
the hair from her brow, listened, leaning her
head on her hand.

so DmmOom ONu oims out.
"I will tell you mother, what the dergy
man tod me I wish that I could remember
every word. He aid that God would guide
us by his counsel hee, and arwan d receive
us togry. And he spoke of that glory, that
dating endlem glory I Oh I mother, how
wretched and dark seem this earth when we
think of the blsudnem to come 1"
"But that bleedneM may not be for ua"
aid Azn
"He mid that it was for those who had
faith, who believed in the Lord Jeus Chri"
"I believe" id the woman, "I never
doubted the Bible; I ed to read it when I
ws a child "
"We win ed mine together now, mother."
SAnd what more did the cleryman tell
"He told me that the faith which bring us
to heaven will be ur to produo.-- Mark
pased to call the exat wonlr-" repentane,
love, and a holy life."
"A holy life repeated Ann slowly. Pain-
ful thoughts cromeed her mind of many things
onseatly done that ought not to be done,
habits hard to be parted with as a right hand

nunwmuTm ON Wim o00. 81
or a right e y; holiBMn umed metUng u
far beyond her reach the mon which wa
now ring in the lody sky; be folded her
hands with a gloomy amile and said, "i tta
be needle we may well leave all thuse es
hope to those who have aome moen of win-
ning what they wah I"
"The way iL not abt to a"
"I tell yon that it l," aid the women
impatiently, for the little gleam of hope that
had dawned on her tou, had given pla to
sullen despair. To be holy you mua be
trathfu and haneu-we are pleed in a
sitaaton where we cannot be truhfl, we
cannot be honest we mcanot serve GodI It
is all very well for the rich and the happy, the
narrow way to them may be all dtewed with
fowerM but to us it is loed,--and for ever r
She clenhd her hand with a gear e of dee-
Bunt mother-"
"Talk no more," she id, rising fom her
seat do you think that your father would
stand having a sint for hi wife or his son
We have gone so far that we cannot trn bk,
we cannot begin life again like ohildren,-

U mmWcUaMON on m OrTI.
beoWr peak to me again on these matter 1
and, so mying Ann quitted the room, frtbhe
than eva from the stit gate that ladeth
unto life more determined to purne her own
unhappy career.
The heart of Mark sank within him. Here
was disappointment to the young pilgrim at
the very outlet, fear, doubt, and difficulty
enclosed him round, and hope was but as a
dim, distant light before him. But help emed
given to the lonely boy, more lonely amid his
unholy companions than if he had indeed stood
by himself in the world. He looked out on
the pure, pale moon in the heavens the dark
clouds were driving arnse her path, sometime
seeming to blo her from the sky; then a int,
hasy light would appear from behind them,
then a slender, brilliant rim would be seen, and
at last the fll orb would shine out in glory,
making even the clouds look bright I
ee how these cloud e h e ach other, and
crowd round the moon, as if they would block
up her way I" thought Mark. They are like
the trials before me now, but bravely she keep
on her path through all, and I maut not-I
will not despair"

Nx's WAT Of WOKsZ.

"Now u Christian was walking olitarily by himself, he epied
one afr off, come losing over the field to meet him; ail
their hap wa to meet jut as they were crossing the way of
each other. The gentleman' name that met him was Mr.
Worldly Wiseman."-Pilgrim's Progre.

THE 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 break-
fast, and meditating 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 look-
ing for !'
lml r 3

34 MrI WAT w1 orno .
"Did yon want met" mid Mar draisng
his ey
"Do you know Mr. Ewart'" cried the
former; and on Mark's shaking hi head, con-
tined, "why, he was talking to me about you
yeterday,-a clergyman, a tall man with a
stoop,-he who is tutor to Lord Fontanoa"
"Oh! yest" ered Mark, springing p, "but
I did not know his name. What could he be
eying of me?"
He stopped at my farm on his drive home
yesterday, 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
be come of a precious bad lot I"
"And what did he reply cried Mark
Oh a great deal that I can't undertake
to repeat, about taking you out of temptation,
anil 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 are of
my sheep, to see if anything respectable can be
made of you."

SHow good in him,-how kind!" exclaimed
"It seems that you got round him,-that
you found his weak side, young rogue I You
had been talking to him of piety and repent-
ance, 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 com-
mandments, 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 religion 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 straight-

86 wu's WAr Of WORKa.
forward, honest, industrious way, and I feel
safer than any talking and chanting an make
one Now you mind what you have heard,
Mark Dowley, and come up to my farm in an
hour or two. I hope I1l 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 I" aid Mark, somewhat surprised.
"Yea, 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 haa as many thousands a year as there
are sheaves in that field I"
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 I 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, honeus
the bae poliy, as the good old proverb says"
With that he struck his horse with the cudgel

uA'S WAy Of Wors. W7
which he carried in his hand, and went of at
a slow heavy trot
SThere is a great deal of sense in what he
has said," thought Mark, as he turned in the
direction of Ann'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 temptations 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 strict-
ly, but there are words in the word of God
which will come to my thoughts. A nw com-
iadrnent I gim you, tlat ye low on ther,
and he tat hateth his brother is a madeser;
how can I love those who dislike me, 'tis im-
possible, I don't believe that any one could."

i ma WAT or oWaS
The ir t thing that met the eyes of Maru
on his entering the oottage put all his good.
resolutions to light Jack and Ben were
mated on the brick door, busy in patching up
a small broken box, and a they wanted some-
thing to cut up for a lid, they had torn off the
cover from his beautiful Bible, and thrown the
book itself under the table I Mark darted
forward with an oath-alasu 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 fit the
cover, and then the book, and with fery in-
dignation flashing in his eyes exclaimed, "I'll
teach you how to treat my Bible so I"
You Bible l" 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 over I"
"Oh I that's what the parso was teaching
him I" cried Jack Provoked beyond endur-
ance Mark struck him.
SSo it's that that you're after I" exclaimed
Jack, springing up like a wild eat, and repay-
ing the blow with interest He was but little

Nu&'s WAY or woa. 39
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 I"
What are you about there, you bad boys!"
exclaimed 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 violently
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 I"
"You always take his part, but hell live
to be your torment yet!" exclaimed Mark,
forgetting all else in the blind fury of his
"Hell do better than you with all your
canting!" cried Ann. The words in a moment
recalled Mark to himself; what had le been
doing? what had he been saying? hle, the
the pilgrim to heaven he, the servant of
God I With a bitterness of spirit more painful

40 8xAS WAY or WOrM.
than any wrong whieb 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 commandments I" he sadly murmured to
himself "how many have I broken in five
minutes I I took God's name in vain,--a ter-
rible sin, it is written, above aU things swear
not; I did not honour my mother, I spoke
insolently to her; I broke the sixth command-
ment 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 I'l 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 eat 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
He must be a happy boy indeed thought
Mark, "with food in abundance, every want
supplied, not knowing what it is to wish for
a pleasure, and not have it at once supplied.
He must be out of the way of temptation 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
"So, even when I am alone, I am sinning
still; coveting, repining, murmuring against
God's will, with no more power to stand up-
right for one hour, than this weed which I have
plucked up by the roots. And yet, the soul
that sinneth it shall die: I cannot get rid of

4 Un'sw WAT or WOmr
these terrible words. I will not think on this
*subject any more, it only makes me mom
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 I"
So, tempted to banish the thought of religion
altogether 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 grated, plucked wild
flowers and examined them, and amused him-
self as best height
The day was very hot, there was little shade
in the eld, and Mark grew heated and thirty.
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 flower, amused himself by
devising means to reach it There was a small
tree growing not very far from the spot, by
climbing 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
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 gar-
den 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 neatness and order. But what most at.
traced the eye of tl.e 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 than ever. He should have turned
away, he should have sprung from the wall;
but he lingered and looked, and looking de-
sired, then stretched out his hand to grasp,

44 MAX'S WAT or woRKs.
Alas fur his resolutions !-alas for his pilgrim
zeal I Could so small a temptation have power
to overcome them?
Yet let the disadvantages of Mark's educa-
tion 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 attempted does
not know the effect of that chill? With a hesi-
tating 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 dropfrom the wall.
"Holloa there I you young thief! Are you
at it already? Robbing me the very first
day I Come down, or Ill 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.

Mir's WAT o0 woRx. 45
"Get you gone," continued the farmer, for
a hypocrite 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
bursting 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 I How his profane companions would
triumph in his fall I The kind and pitying
clergyman would regard him as a hypocrite-
would feel disappointed in him I Bitter was
the thought. All his firm resolves had snapped
like thread in the flame, and his hopes of win.
ning Heaven had vanislieil

46 GOes Gin or OnRCIL

"Ta cannot be justiled by the workB of the law; for by tie
deed. of the law no man living an be rid of his borden."-
Pigrim's Progrss.
"WHAT ails you my young friend?-has any-
thing painful happened?" said a kindly voice,
and a hand was gently laid upon the shoulder
of Mark, who was lying on the grass amidst
the ruins of the old Abbey, his face leaning on
his arms, and turned towards earth, while short
convulsive sobs shook his frame.
"Oh, sir I" 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

GOD's oirr or oKAC. 41
endeavoured to serve you-to procure you a
situation with Farmer Joyce?"
"I have had it, and lost it," replied Mark
"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," continued the boy, in an
agitated tone; no one but myself knows how
bad; but I am not a hypocrite, I am not!"
God forbid 1" said Mr. Ewart; "but how
did all this happen?"
SI was thirsty, it tempted me, and I took
it I broke all my resolutions, and now he
has 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 I"
"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 excepted, who
was not only man, but God, was ever worthy
of the kingdom of heaven."

48 ooD's Gim o GRAC.
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 ays, There is not one that doeh good,
no, not one.' Every living soul is included
under sin."
How can this be f' 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 wick-
edness. 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
Blessed be God, mercy has found a means
by which even sinners can be saved I 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

ooD's alnr or ORACr. 49
Himself; and so we have hope of salvation
through Him."
"I wish that I understood this better," said
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 pri-
soner, 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 1
Iook on sin as a debt, a heavy debt, that you
owe: do you not feel that you have no power
to pay it?"
(23n 4

50 GOD'S oGr orF OACE.
"None," replied Mark gloomily; "non."
"I had the will to help the poor man," con.
tinued 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
"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 de-
light, as the heavy iron-studded door was
thrown open for his passage, and he bounded
into the bright sunshine again I"
"And what became of him afterwards?'
asked the boy.
"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 restoredbhim to freedom."
"Where is the friend to pay my debt,'
sighed Mark.
"It has been paid already," said the clear

'Paid I Oh, when, and by whom "
"It was paid when the Saviour died upon
the cross-it was paid by the eternal Son of
God I He entered for us the prison of this
world, He paid our debt with His own pre-
cious 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 l"
This iswonderful 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
"They are holy because they are saved I
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
Ias life, and good actions are the fruit of our
"But are we safe whether we be holy or
not ?"

Without holiness no man shall see the
Lord. very tree that beareth it good fruit
is heunm down and cast into the fire."
But I feel as if. I could not be holy!" cried
SMark. "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 de-
termined to set out on your Christian pilgrim-
age, did you pray for the help and guidance of
God's Spirit?"
Mark, in a low voice, answered, "No I"
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 aire given by God
alone, and so is the Holy Spirit, without which
it is impossible to please him."

Don'S aOi OF GRACL. 5
SAnd how can I have the Spirit said
Ask for it, never doubting but that it shall
be sent, for this is the promise of the Lord:
Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall
ilnd, 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 youth
Father which is in heaven give the Holy Spirit
to them that ask himrn
"And what will the Spirit do for me ?"
Strengthen you, increase your courage and
your faith, make your heart pure and holy.
The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-
sufering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness,
temperance. Having these you are rich in-
deed, and may press on your way rejoicing 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, multitudes 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 sinnerl 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 Yon 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 bumble prayer. Go, then, without
delay, seek ye the Lord while he may e found,
call ye upon him while he is near.'"

ooD'a Olr or eRAc. 50
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 himself 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 re-
garded 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 relieS
though the burden on his heart was not yet
removed. He believed that the Lord was
gracious and long-sufferig, that Jesus came
into ite 'world to save sinners; he had knocked
at the strait gate, which gives entrance into
life, and mercy had opened it unto him I

56 A OuI tt Of TUlE CROI.

" Upa tht pihe stood a Cron, ad a little bel, tin h bottom,
a Sepulchre. Be I ew in my dream, that just u Christi
ame up with the Cron, hi burden loosed from of his shool.
den, and fell from of his bck."-PUirinm' Prorps.

" WELL, this has been a pretty end to your
fine pilgrimage I" cried Jack, as Mark, resolved
to tell the truth, whatever it might cost him,
finished the account of his rupture with tile
The end !" said Mark; "my pilgrimage is
scarcely begun 1
It's a sort of backward travelling, I should
say," laughed Jack. "You begin with quarrel-
ling and stealing; 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 in-
clined for angry retort; the young pilgrim was
more on his guard; his first fall had taught
him to walk carefully. Without replying,

A ~ouse or THE CROSs. 67
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
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
"To-morrow is Sunday," Mark briefly re-
plied, "and I am going to church."
"To church I" 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 I"
"Well, if ever exclaimed Jack; "why
on earth do you go there "'

58 A OLMPsZ r CT nosS.
I go because I think it right to do so, and
because I think that it will help me on my
"And what will you do when you get
there I" laughed Ben.
"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 unex-
pected as it was unusual
"I think," said Madge, "that the shirt
wants mending worse than the jacket; under
that hole on the shoulder I can see the red
mark quite plainly."
"Be silent, and don't talk nonsense I" cried
Ann impatiently.
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 I does he live here ?" cried
Ann, almost trembling with excitement as she
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 tone.
"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 I" exclaimed Ann, looking juite
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 PILomu chalked in
large letters upon the back
This is a piece of Jack's mischief," he said
to himself "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
trying to do what was right seemed to give
him a greater command over his temper. He
was'heartily glad, however, when he got out
of hearing of mocking words and bursts of
laughter, and soon had a sense even of'plea-
sure as he walked over the sunny green field
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 church-yard, 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 farther, 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
What a fine boy he looks I You might
know him for a lord I Does he stay long in
the neighbourhood 1"
"Only for a few weeks longer I believe; he
has a prodigious estate somewhere I hear, and
generally lives there with his uncle."
As the speaker concluded, young Lord Fon-
tonore 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, quarrelling, false-
hood, 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 him-
self 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 ad-
dress 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 he 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 foe,
had guided them, fed them, blessed 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 I What ruins the drunk-
ard'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 ser-

pent 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 chil-
dren 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 I
"And has no such remedy been found for
man, sinking 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 1
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 torment
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 redeem 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
(:) 5I

to death; the justice of God had pronounced
the fearful words-" the soc that siwnnth 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 io 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 overflow-
ing 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 repeating to
himself "no condemnation to the penitent
sinner All washed away-all sin blotted
out for ever by the blood of the crucified

'LordI Oh! now can I understand that
blessed verse in Isaiah, Though your sins
be as carlet they shall be white as snow;
though they be red like crimson, they shall be
as wool" Paise the Lord, 0 my soul! and
all that is within me, praise His holy name I"
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 sin, 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 rejoices,
when lie looks to the cross and is healed I


" I then in my dream tht he went on thus, even until he
cme to the bottom, where he aw, a little out of the way,
threemenalituleep, ith fetter pon their hoel."-PiQgrn'
THE 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 he 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 possessed, when he sat clotled and i 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 to-

TME PLORIM I ms1 nO1M. 69
wards 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 pardoned sin, there seemed no room in
his heart for anything 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 any-
thing but begging.
"Come and work with us," said Ben,
"this ground must be all cleared to-day."
And why to-day 1" said Mark.
"Because Farmer Joyce told us this morn-
ing 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-

70 T enoPIL M IN ma noxi.
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
Made 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 I" 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, barr-
ing our door so that no lion could come in,
and never telling you of the danger at all ?"

THE rPLaRhM I HIS HnoM. 71
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
"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 soul As long as you are in
sin you are in danger. Oh, that you would
turn to God and be safe I"
"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, Thou d"alt not
survey 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 our-
selves about these things," said Ben.
"Take care of yourself and leave us in
peace I" exclaimed Jack; "we are not going
to be taught by you and turning his back

72 THR PmILIx me nomr.
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 uncomfortable, or Ann's face worn an ex-
pression more gloomy and ill-tempered.
Mother," cried Mark cheerfully, "have you
something 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 un-
kindness, 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 I f 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 looking 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 mel 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. 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
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 of the hill wau pleant
arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of
weary travellers."--Pigrim' Program.
SEVEAlAI 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 mia tfvil not work, neithr should he eat.

One morning Madge burst into the cottage
where Mark and Ann were sitting together.
"He is coming I" she exclaimed in a breath-
less voice; "he is coming-he is just at the
gate I"
"Who?" cried Ann and Xark at once.
"The parson,-the-"
"Not Mr. EwartI" exclaimed Ann, starting
up in terror.
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've just gone to the
Mother's precious afraid of a parson," said
Madge, as a low knock was heard at the door.
With pleasure Mark opened to his bene-
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 tem-
porary resident in these parts, I do not know
much of your future master, except that he

78 TE ARB o o Tnra HmILn .
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 kindness."
"Is your mother within?" said Mr. Ewart
Mark bit his lip, and knew not what to
reply, divided between fear of much displeas-
ing his parent, and that of telling a falsehood
to his benefactor.
"She's gone to the miller's," said Madge
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 feel.
ing 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 1"
thought Mark, and this reflection took the
bitterness from the trial. He was only thank-
ful 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-
ance of the establishment, that was very en-
couraging 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 re-
"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 will have
none about me but those who are decidedly
pious 1"
Mr. Lowe looked as though he expected a
reply, which puzzled Mark exceedingly, as he
had no idea of turning piety to worldly advan-
tage, or professing religion to help him to a
place He stood, uneasily twisting his cap in
his hand, and was much relieved when, a cus-
tomer coming 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 occasional twinkle in
his eye, which made Mark, who was very ob-
servant, 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 bor-
rowed 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 readi-
nee to work, made him rather a favourite
with both, and the common comforts of life
which he now enjoyed appeared as luxuries to
"I have been climbing a steep hill of diffi-
culty," 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 I"
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 fore-
most 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 any-
thing 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 man-
ner more meek. Mark could not help suspect-
ing 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 inexpe-
rience in religion that made him doubt its
reality in Lowe.
Thus a few weeks passed in comfort with
Mark, but the pilgrim was making no pro-
gres. 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 temp-
tations 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 approved.
The Christian must not dream that he is
only in danger whilst dwelling with the care-
(1n) C

82 Tul ARBOUR ON Till mLL.
less or profane. The society of professors may
be quite as dangerous, by lulling his conscience
to sleep. He is lees on his guard against
inward foes, less able to distinguish true reli-
gion 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 I
Not that Mark did much with which he
could reproach 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 sus-
picionwas 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 alight sound,
apparently from the shop, and Mark wondered
what, at that hour, it could be. Softly he
crept down the creaking stair, unwilling 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
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 opening, 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 curiosity.
"I'm mixing this with that, as you see,"
replied Radley, pointing to two heaps of what
looked like coffee on the counter.
"Why should you mix them ?"
Oh I ask no questions, and Ill tell you no
stories," said Radley, quite dropping his usual
formal manner, with a laughing look in his
eye which startled the boy.
"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 cus-
tomers ?"
"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 I"
"Oh, you most simple of simpletons I"
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 V"
"Of course I do."
"I could never have believed that he could
have been guilty of such a thing I" exclaimed
Mark, more shocked and disgusted by the hypo-
crisy of Lowe, than by any of the open wicked-
ness 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 commands"
"Your conscience your master's Oh, no "
exclaimed Mark; "you will have to answer
for yourself before God!"
"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
"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
"Well 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 hypo-
crisy and deceit? Oh, I have been too little

on my guard in this place, I have been a
drowsy pilgrim on the way,-bleesed be God
that I am awakened before too late I"

"Far not the lions, for they are chained, and are plad there for
trial of faith where it i; and for the disovery of those that
have none: keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shdl
come unto thee."-Pri *a's Progrss.

IT was long before Mark could get to sleep, and
be 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 dis-
tance was the only noise that broke the still-
"I feel as though I could not rest," aid
Mark, "the sun will rise before long; I will

dress myself and go out, and have a quiet time
before I am required for work. I have been
keeping too little watch over myself lately, I
have been too easily contented with the little
knowledge to which I have attained. Oh,
what if I should have been deceiving myself
all the time, if I have never entered the
straight gate at all I" 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 1
Mark sprang down the stair-case 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 bed-room 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 apart-
ment, 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 fiom his grave, to behold a universe
in flames I
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 reddening the black
canopy of smoke,-the stifling heat, the oca-
sional 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 I
Half wild with terror, anxiety, and grie;

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 beheld, con-
suming before his eyes, that for which he had
been daily bartering his soul I
Before the sun had reached his mid-day
height, the fire had been entirely subdued.
The efforts of the firemen had prevented it
from spreading, but a charred and blackened
shell of a house, floors, rafters, windows, all
entirely destroyed, alone remained of the habi-
tation of Lowe !
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 Pro-
vidence, even while his excessive grief showed
how little he felt it, and intermixed his lamen-
tations 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 kind-
ness. "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 sup-
pose 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 Yorkshire 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 become a burden upon your poor
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 advantages which you enjoyed while
under my roo"
"Not exactly that," replied Mark, hesi-
tating and looking embarrassed, for there was
a mixture of this regret in his reluctance to
return home, though it was not his principal
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 important event of his life, his repent-
ance and turning to God, was in some way
connected with her. She was the lady who
had dropped the bag by the stile which con-
tained Mark's precious Bible.
Now, it had often weighed upon the con-
science 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 dark-
ness, without that light which had been his
comfort and solace till now-Mark felt almost
as though he could not do it, and stood hesi-
tating 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 I Yol
will lose all your religion with your Bible,
and fall under the temptations which you will
be certain to meet." Was not this mistrut
of God's sustaining power ? "And what dis-
grace," 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, magnify-
ing every danger by the way.
But against all this was the plain word of
God, Thou salU not steal To keep anything
from its owner that might be restored, was
clearly to break the commandment. 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 ex-
citement and fatigue of the morning, that it
would have been a relief to him to have

sat down and cried, Mark gently rang tih
He felt embarrassed when the servant-maid
opened the 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 parlour.
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 reluctant to part with
his treasure.
"What did you want with me, my good
boy," said the lady, turning round without
quitting her seat, her fingers resting on the
silent notes of the instrument
Mark drew from his bosom the Bible. "I
believe, ma'am, that this is yours," said he.
My long-lost Bible I" exclaimed the lady,
rising with an expression of joy. Ohl Inever
thought to see it again. Where could you
have found it?"

"Near a atile, where you had dropt 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 uneasy.
"What is your name ?" said the old gentle-
man, looking 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 speaking about him 1"
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 situation."
"I had a good situation last night, but the
fire that happened to-day burnt 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 cer-
tainly 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 accompany 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 be-
tween 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."
()7 7

"But it is not desirable to go till to mor-
row," said Ellen; "those heavy clouds have
burst; only see how it rains The poor boy
looks quite knocked up already; he could oc-
cupy 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 I

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