{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_58791/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_58791","id":"gutenberg_58791","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/58791","summary":null,"tags":["Bible. Proverbs -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Children's stories","Christian life -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Richard Tonsing, Richard Hulse and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE DISOBEDIENT BOY. _Page 95_]\n\n\n\n\n PRECEPTS IN PRACTICE.\n\n\n[Illustration: OLD JONAS. _Page 140._]\n\n\n _THOMAS NELSON AND SONS_,\n LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.\n\n\n\n\n PRECEPTS IN PRACTICE;\n\n OR,\n\n _STORIES ILLUSTRATING THE PROVERBS_.\n\n\n BY\n A. L. O. E.,\n AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE SILVER CASKET\u201d, \u201cTHE ROBBERS\u2019 CAVE,\u201d ETC., ETC.\n\n\n WITH THIRTY-NINE ENGRAVINGS\n\n\n London:\n T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.\n EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.\n\n 1887\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n Preface.\n\n\nDear young friends (perhaps I may rather welcome some amongst you as\n_old_ friends), I would once more gather you around me to listen to my\nsimple stories. I have in each one endeavoured to exemplify some truth\ntaught by the wise King Solomon, in the Book of Proverbs. Perhaps the\nholy words, which I trust that many of you have already learned to love,\nmay be more forcibly imprinted on your minds, and you may apply them\nmore to your own conduct, when you see them illustrated by tales\ndescribing such events as may happen to yourselves.\n\nMay the Giver of all good gifts make the choice of Solomon also yours;\nmay you, each and all, be endowed with that wisdom from on high which is\n_more precious than rubies_; and may you find, as you proceed onward to\nthat better home to which Heavenly Wisdom would guide you, that _her\nways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace_.\n\n A. L. O. E.\n\n\n\n\n Contents.\n\n\n I. THE TWO SONS, 9\n\n II. THE PRISONER RELEASED, 21\n\n III. THE MOTHER\u2019S RETURN, 34\n\n IV. THE FRIEND IN NEED, 43\n\n V. FORBIDDEN GROUND, 62\n\n VI. CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE, 76\n\n VII. THE GREAT PLAGUE, 89\n\n VIII. THE GREEN VELVET DRESS, 99\n\n IX. FALSE FRIENDS, 115\n\n X. COURAGE AND CANDOUR, 129\n\n XI. THE SAILOR\u2019S RESOLVE, 146\n\n XII. THE GIPSIES, 158\n\n XIII. FRIENDS IN NEED, 173\n\n XIV. THE OLD PAUPER, 190\n\n XV. THE BEAUTIFUL VILLA, 203\n\n\n\n\n List of Illustrations.\n\n\n THE DISOBEDIENT BOY, _Frontispiece_\n\n OLD JONAS, _Vignette_\n\n THE FROZEN LAKE, 10\n\n HARRY TENDING HIS MOTHER, 13\n\n DR. MERTON AND PAUL, 16\n\n THE FUNERAL, 18\n\n MARIA AND MARY, 35\n\n WATCHING FOR MOTHER, 38\n\n GOING TO CHURCH, 44\n\n ON A VISIT, 45\n\n OLD WILL AYLMER, 46\n\n SEEKING THE LORD, 57\n\n LITTLE JOSEPH, 63\n\n THE STREET STALL, 65\n\n THE LAWN, 68\n\n MRS. GRAHAM AND JOSEPH, 73\n\n LUCY AND PRISCILLA, 78\n\n THE TEACHER\u2019S STORY, 92\n\n THE PLAGUE IN LONDON, 94\n\n JENNY IN THE STORM, 101\n\n THE MESSAGE, 103\n\n ALIE WATCHING THE CAT, 135\n\n \u201cPOOR TABBY!\u201d 136\n\n ALIE AND THE GIPSY GIRL, 161\n\n THE GIPSIES, 163\n\n THE GIPSY\u2019S APPROACH, 169\n\n THE GREEN LANE, 174\n\n THE OLD PAUPER, 191\n\n MRS. WARNER AND JESSY, 206\n\n\n\n\n PRECEPTS IN PRACTICE.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n THE TWO SONS.\n\n\n \u201cA wise son maketh a glad father: but a foolish man despiseth his\n mother.\u201d\u2014PROV. xv. 20.\n\n\nIt was a clear, cold morning in December. Not a cloud was in the sky,\nand the sun shone brightly, gilding the long icicles that hung from the\neaves, and gleaming on the frozen surface of the lake, as though he\nwould have melted them by his kindly smile. But the cold was too intense\nfor that; there was no softening of the ice; no drop hung like a tear\nfrom the glittering icicles. Alas! that we should ever find in life\nhearts colder and harder still, that even kindness fails to melt!\n\nMany persons were skating over the lake\u2014sometimes darting forward with\nthe swiftness of the wind, then making graceful curves to the right or\nthe left, and forming strange figures on the ice. And there were many\nboys also enjoying themselves as much, although in a different\nway\u2014sliding along the slippery surface, and making the air ring with\ntheir merry laughter.\n\n[Illustration: THE FROZEN LAKE.]\n\nOne of the gayest of these last was a rosy-cheeked boy, who looked as\nthough care or sorrow had never traced a line on his face. He had just\nmade a very long slide, and stood flushed with the exercise to watch his\ncompanions follow him on the glistening line, when Dr. Merton, a medical\nman, who was taking his morning walk, and had come to the lake to see\nthe skating, lightly touched the boy on the shoulder.\n\n\u201cPaul Fane, is your mother better to-day?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, she\u2019s well enough\u2014that\u2019s to say, she\u2019s always ailing,\u201d replied the\nboy carelessly, still keeping his eye upon the sliders.\n\n\u201cDid she sleep better last night?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, really, why I don\u2019t exactly know. I\u2019ve not seen her yet this\nmorning.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot seen her!\u201d repeated Dr. Merton in surprise.\n\n\u201cOh, sir, I knew that she\u2019d be worrying me about my coming here upon the\nice. She\u2019s so fidgety and frightened\u2014she treats one like a child, and is\nalways fancying that there is danger when there is none;\u201d and the boy\nturned down his lip with a contemptuous expression.\n\n\u201cI should say that you are in danger now,\u201d said Dr. Merton, very\ngravely.\n\n\u201cHow so? the ice is thick enough to roast an ox upon,\u201d replied Paul,\nstriking it with his heel.\n\n\u201cIn danger of the anger of that great Being who hath said, _Honour thy\nfather and thy mother_\u2014in danger of much future pain and regret, when\nthe time for obeying that command shall be lost to you for ever.\u201d\n\nPaul\u2019s cheek grew redder at these words. He felt half inclined to make\nan insolent reply; but there was something in the doctor\u2019s manner which\nawed even his proud and unruly spirit.\n\n\u201cWhere is your brother Harry?\u201d inquired Dr. Merton.\n\n\u201cOh, I suppose at home,\u201d replied Paul bluffly, glad of any change in the\nconversation; and still more glad was he when the gentleman turned away,\nand left him to pursue his amusement.\n\nAnd where was Harry on that bright, cheerful morning, while his brother\nwas enjoying himself upon the ice? In a little, dull, close room, with a\npeevish invalid, the sunshine mostly shut out by the dark blinds, while\nthe sound of merry voices from without contrasted with the gloomy\nstillness within. Harry glided about with a quiet step, trimmed the\nfire, set on the kettle, prepared the gruel for his mother, and carried\nit gently to the side of her bed. He arranged the pillows comfortably\nfor the sufferer, and tended her even as she had tended him in the days\nof his helpless infancy. The fretfulness of the sick woman never moved\nhis patience. He remembered how often, when he was a babe, his cry had\nbroken her rest and disturbed her comfort. How could he do enough for\nher who had given him life, and watched over him and loved him long,\nlong before he had been able even to make the small return of a grateful\nlook? Oh! what a holy thing is filial obedience! God commands it, God\nhas blessed it, and He will bless it for ever. He that disobeys or\nneglects a parent is planting thorns for his own pillow, and they are\nthorns that shall one day pierce him even to the soul.\n\n[Illustration: HARRY TENDING HIS MOTHER.]\n\n\u201cWhere is Paul?\u201d said Mrs. Fane with uneasiness. \u201cI am always anxious\nabout that dear boy. I do trust that he has not ventured upon the ice.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe, mother, that the ice has been considered safe, quite safe,\nfor the last three days.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know nothing about the matter,\u201d cried the fretful invalid. \u201cI had a\ncousin drowned once in that lake when every one said that there was no\ndanger. I have forbidden you both a thousand times to go near the ice;\u201d\nand she gave her son a look of displeasure, as though he had been the\none to break her command.\n\n\u201cWill you not take your gruel now?\u201d said Harry, again drawing her\nattention to it, and placing yet closer to her that which he had so\ncarefully made.\n\n\u201cI do not like it\u2014it\u2019s cold\u2014it\u2019s full of lumps; you never do anything\nwell!\u201d\n\n\u201cI must try and improve,\u201d said her son, struggling to look cheerful, but\nfeeling the task rather hard. \u201cIf you will not take this, shall I get\nyou a little tea?\u201d\n\nMrs. Fane assented with a discontented air, and Harry instantly\nproceeded to make some; while all the time that he was thus engaged his\npoor mother continued in a tone of anxiety and sorrow to express her\nfears for her elder son.\n\n\u201cAre you more comfortable now, dear mother?\u201d said Harry, after she had\npartaken of her nice cup of tea. Her only reply was a moan. \u201cCan I do\nanything else for you?\u2014yes, I see; the top of that blind hangs loose,\nand the light comes in on your eyes; I will set it right in a minute!\u201d\nand he jumped lightly on a chair to reach it.\n\nHis mother followed him with her eyes\u2014her deep, sunken eyes. Gradually\nthe moisture gathered in them, as she looked at her dutiful son; for,\nfretful and unreasonable towards him as illness might sometimes make\nher, she yet dearly loved him, and felt his value. When he returned to\nher side, these eyes were still fixed upon him; she feebly pressed his\nhand, and murmured, \u201cYou are my comfort, Harry!\u201d\n\nAnd there was another Eye beholding with love that obedient and dutiful\nchild! He who was once subject to an earthly parent, who cared for her\neven amid the agonies of the Cross\u2014He looked approvingly down upon the\ntrue-hearted boy, who was filling the post assigned him by his Lord\u2014who\nwas letting his light shine in his home!\n\nThe red sun was setting before Paul returned; for, heedless of the fears\nto which his absence might give rise, he had taken his noonday meal with\na neighbour. It was not that he did not really love his fond mother, but\nhe loved himself a great deal more. He had never chosen to consider\nobedience as a sacred duty, and irreverence towards a parent as a sin.\nHe never dreamed of sacrificing his will to hers; and a smile or a kiss\nto his mother, when he had been more than usually selfish or rude, had\nhitherto been sufficient to quiet the boy\u2019s conscience, and, as he said,\n\u201cmake all right between them.\u201d But wounds are not so easily healed, a\nparent\u2019s claims are not so easily set aside, and the hour had now come\nwhen Paul was to feel the thorns which he had planted for himself.\n\n[Illustration: DR. MERTON AND PAUL.]\n\n\u201cI shall have a precious scold from mother,\u201d muttered the boy half\naloud, as he approached the door, \u201cfor going on the ice, and staying out\nall day. I should like to know what is the use of a holiday, if I am not\nto spend it as I like? I would rather be in school than moping away my\ntime at home like Harry! I wish that I were old enough to go and enlist,\nand be out of hearing of mother\u2019s endless chiding!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will never hear it again,\u201d said the solemn voice of one just\nquitting the door as Paul came up to it. He started to see Dr. Merton.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d cried Paul, a strange feeling of fear and awe\ncoming over his heart.\n\n\u201cYour poor mother, about two hours ago, was taken with an alarming fit\u2014I\ndare hardly give hopes that she will see the morning!\u201d\n\nPaul stayed to hear no more, but rushed into the house. One of the\nneighbours was there, who had kindly offered to stay that night to help\nHarry to nurse his dying parent. The young boy was now praying beside\nher bed\u2014praying for his mother on earth to his Father in heaven!\n\nPaul went up to the bed, cold, trembling with his emotions. He gazed in\nanguish on the altered features of one whose love he had so ill repaid.\nMrs. Fane lay unconscious of all that passed\u2014unconscious of the bitter\ntears shed by her sons. She no longer could rejoice in the affection of\nthe one, or be stung by the neglect of the other. Oh! what would not\nPaul have given, as he hung over her now, for one forgiving look from\nthose closed eyes! What would he not have given to have heard those pale\nlips speak, even though it had been but to chide! But his grief and his\nfears now came too late\u2014his mother never spoke again!\n\nIn a few days both the boys stood by the open grave, and no one who had\nseen the sorrow of both, without being aware of the former circumstances\nof their lives, would have known what different recollections filled\ntheir hearts\u2014like poison in the bleeding wound of one, soothing balm in\nthat of his brother! \u201cMy last act towards my mother was that of\ndisobedience\u2014her last feeling towards me was of displeasure and pain! I\nclouded, perhaps I shortened her life; and the anger of my God is upon\nme!\u201d Such were the thoughts of Paul\u2014his agonizing thoughts\u2014as he heard\nthe earth fall on the coffin of her who had loved him best upon earth.\nBut not for untold wealth would Harry have exchanged the remembrance of\nhis parent\u2019s last fond look, her last sweet words to him. \u201cHarry, you\nare my comfort!\u201d sounded in his ears as though an angel had repeated it\nto the mourner.\n\n[Illustration: THE FUNERAL.]\n\nAnd not then alone, but when time had softened his sorrow\u2014yes, even\nthrough the long course of his honoured, useful life, if care weighed on\nhis heart, he thought of those words, and they lightened his burden of\ncare; when joy elated his spirit, they yet brightened that joy\u2014his\nmother\u2019s blessing seemed for ever resting upon him! _Honour thy father\nand mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy\nGod giveth thee. A wise son maketh a glad father: but a foolish man\ndespiseth his mother._\n\n He makes his mother sad,\n The proud, unruly child,\n Who will not brook\n Her warning look,\n Nor hear her counsels mild.\n\n He makes his mother sad,\n Who, in his thoughtless mirth,\n Can e\u2019er forget\n His mighty debt\n To her who gave him birth.\n\n He makes his mother sad,\n Who turns from Wisdom\u2019s way;\n Whose stubborn will,\n Rebelling still,\n Refuses to obey.\n\n He makes his mother sad\u2014\n And sad his lot must prove:\n A mother\u2019s fears,\n A mother\u2019s tears,\n Are marked by God above!\n\n Oh! who so sad as he\n Who o\u2019er a parent\u2019s grave\n Too late repents,\n Too late laments\n The bitter pain he gave.\n\n May we ne\u2019er know such grief,\n Nor cause one feeling sad;\n Let our delight\n Be to requite,\n And make our parents glad.\n\n[Illustration: [man in cemetery]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER II.\n THE PRISONER RELEASED.\n\n\n \u201cWho can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure from my sin?\u201d\u2014PROV.\n xx. 9.\n\n\nThere were many bright young faces in the daily school which was taught\nby Willy Thorn, but there was one face which, though young, never wore a\nsmile. In play-time many an orange, apple, or cake, was given by the\nschool-boys to each other; but there was one of whom no one ever seemed\nto think, one who never received even a look of kindness. Many of the\nboys returned to cheerful homes to repeat to their parents what they had\nheard from their teacher; but one felt desolate and alone in the world,\nthere was none to welcome him to his wretched dwelling, for such a place\ncannot be called a home. Why did his companions dislike sitting next in\nschool to the pale boy with the sunken cheek and the drooping eye, and\nwhy in the merry hours of play did they seek to exclude him from their\ncircle? Alas! there was a stain on the character of Seth Delmar\u2014he had\nonce been in prison for stealing bread from a baker, he was now shunned\nand despised as a thief!\n\nThe poor boy had deeply repented of his sin, and now bitterly felt its\nconsequences. In vain he showed himself ever ready to oblige, bore\nmeekly the taunts and neglect of his companions, and was most watchful\nover his own conduct. Thorn remarked the painful position of the child,\nand feeling that to drive him into despair might be to drive him further\ninto sin, and that not a little self-righteousness was at the bottom of\nthe scorn with which his school-fellows treated the unhappy Seth, he\nresolved to take the first opportunity of speaking to them upon the\nsubject, and of showing to them their conduct in its true light.\n\nSeth, who was patient and persevering with his tasks, had gained from\nhis teacher the prize of a small book; and the first gleam of pleasure\nwhich any one present had ever seen on his wan features, lighted them up\nfor a moment as he received it. It immediately faded away, however, as\nhe glanced timidly round on his companions, and saw that no one cared\nfor his success, that perhaps it would only add to the dislike felt\ntowards him.\n\nThe next day Thorn observed the boy bending over this book, while large\ndrops, in spite of his efforts to stop them, forced their way from his\neyes as he looked on it. Seeing that something must have occurred, Thorn\nwalked up to the spot, and found out at once the cause of Seth\u2019s\ndistress. On the title-page of the book Thorn had written his name; but\njust under it now appeared, in a very different hand, the single\nterrible word THIEF!\n\n\u201cThis has been a most thoughtless\u2014I wish that I could say only\n_thoughtless_ act,\u201d said Thorn, with an expression grave almost to\nsternness. \u201cI will not ask who is the author of this cruel insult, but\nwe must suppose that he who thus condemns another, notwithstanding the\nwarning, _Judge not, that ye be not judged_, is at least conscious that\nhis own heart is pure, that he never has sinned.\u201d\n\nThe children looked at each other in silence, and then one of the elder\nboys, Bat Nayland, muttered, half aloud, \u201cConscious of never having\nstolen a farthing!\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not say, conscious of never having _stolen_, but of never having\n_sinned_. All sin is disobedience to the Most High, as sin to be\nrepented of, and as sin to be punished, whether it be theft, falsehood,\nor unkindness to another. The law forbidding us to covet in our secret\nhearts was as solemnly given amid the terrors of Sinai, is as binding\nupon man as _Thou shalt do no murder_. If the chain-cable upon which the\nsafety of a vessel depends be snapped asunder in a storm, no matter how\nsmall be the link that gives way, the chain is as truly broken, and the\nvessel as certainly in danger, as if it had been dashed into a thousand\npieces.\u201d\n\n\u201cStill, I do think,\u201d said Bat Nayland, \u201cthat there are some greater\nsinners, and greater commandments, and that we are not to be put on a\nlevel with thieves.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you remember,\u201d said Thorn, mildly, turning to a boy who was near\nhim, \u201cwhich our blessed Lord Himself said were the two _great\ncommandments_ of the law?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy\nsoul, and with all thy strength. This is the first and great\ncommandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy\nneighbour as thyself._\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd those who break the _great commandments_ must, of course, be great\nsinners?\u201d\n\nThere was a general murmur of assent.\n\n\u201cAnd now tell me,\u201d said Thorn, speaking more earnestly, and looking\naround him as he spoke, \u201cwhich of us can plead _not guilty_ to the\ncharge of having broken these great commandments\u2014broken them\noften\u2014broken them every day of our lives?\u201d\n\nNo voice was raised in reply\u2014conscience was bearing silent witness\nagainst all. Thorn continued: \u201cThe Almighty has a claim to our greatest\nlove; He has created us, preserved us, redeemed us\u2014He has deigned to\nsay, _My son, give Me thy heart!_ but which of us have obeyed the\nheavenly call? Has it been our delight to serve Him, to pray to Him?\nhave we thought on Him with reverence, gratitude, and love; seeking His\nglory before our own pleasure, making His will the law of our lives?\nThis it is, my children, to keep the first commandment: if any one\npresent feels in his heart that he never has wilfully broken it, let him\nnow raise up his hand in token that he can say _Not guilty_ to this\ncharge!\u201d\n\nEvery hand remained motionless and still.\n\n\u201cAnd who has loved his neighbour as himself? Who has never done an\nunjust action, nor spoken an ill-natured word, nor harboured an envious\nthought in his heart? Guilty, all guilty we stand before our God! we\nhave broken His commands, we have offended against His holiness; alas!\n_who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure from my sin_!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d continued Thorn, after another solemn pause, \u201cwhich of you\nhere can give me a verse from the Word of God which tells us the just\npunishment of sin?\u201d\n\nSeth answered, in a very low voice, which would not have been heard but\nfor the great silence which prevailed through the room, \u201c_The soul that\nsinneth, it shall die!_\u201d\n\n\u201cThen what is to become of us all?\u201d cried William Browne, who had but\nlately joined the school; \u201cmust all be punished, as all have sinned? is\nthere no hope of escape?\u201d\n\n\u201cOur hope is in the blessed Son of God, who came down to earth that He\nmight raise us to heaven\u2014who bore our punishment that we might share His\nbliss. Through faith in Him even the chief of sinners may be saved\u2014_the\nblood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin_.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut then,\u201d said Nayland, \u201cif those who have sinned much, and those who\nhave sinned less, may all go to heaven if they only believe, it seems as\nif it did not matter whether we tried to obey or not\u2014as though, the Lord\nhaving done all, we have nothing left to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod forbid that you should think so,\u201d hastily interrupted Thorn. \u201cAll\nmust strive for _holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. If\nany man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His._ The Bible\nabounds in passages that show that for the wilfully disobedient, who\nwill not repent, the Lord\u2019s despised mercy will but add to the\npunishment of their sin!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not quite understand this,\u201d said William Browne.\n\n\u201cIn order to explain to you how our salvation is only from the Lord, and\nyet that we must _work out our salvation with fear and trembling_, I\nwill repeat to you a little allegory or parable. Remember that my tale\nis intended to convey a deeper meaning than what may at first sight\nappear; exert your minds to discover that meaning, I am telling you the\nhistory of man, I am telling you the history of yourselves.\u201d\n\nAll the school listened with silence and attention, as, after a minute\u2019s\nconsideration, the teacher began.\n\n\u201cThere was a great and powerful Sovereign, who ruled over an extensive\nkingdom. But wise and just as were his laws, formed to make all happy\nwho obeyed them, there were rebels who rose against their King, broke\nhis commands, despised his statutes, and most justly deserved the\nsentence of death pronounced upon them as traitors. Amongst these was a\nyouth, whom I need not name, who, after having had judgment passed upon\nhim, was confined in a prison named _Condemnation_, until the\nexecutioner, _Justice_, should be sent to carry out the sentence of the\nlaw.\n\n\u201cVery strong was his prison, very thick its walls; the grated window,\nthrough which the light scarcely came, forbade all hope of release.\nSometimes the youth tried to flatter himself with the idea that his\nSovereign was too merciful to destroy him; but then the sentence of the\njudge rose in his mind, he felt that Justice demanded his punishment.\nThen he sought amusement to drive away the fear of death, and sometimes\nsucceeded in his miserable efforts to be gay; but still the thought of\nwhat was before him forced itself on his mind, and he never could be\nreally happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cA wretched state to be in,\u201d observed Nayland.\n\n\u201cIt is by nature the state of us all,\u201d said Thorn. \u201cWe have all _sinned\nand fallen short of the glory of God_; we are all sentenced, and justly\nsentenced; and but for the hopes of a better life beyond, what would\nthis world be but a prison! But to return to the rebel in my story:\u2014\n\n\u201cOne night as, clothed in his dark and ragged attire, he was reflecting\nupon his unhappy fate, a bright light shone in his prison, and he beheld\ncoming towards him a Friend\u2014one whose kindness he had long neglected,\nbut who had not forgotten him in his adversity. The garments worn by\nthat Friend were white and spotless; there was no stain upon them; they\nwere such as befitted one of high estate, of one of such rank that it\nmight have been little expected that his foot would ever tread the\ndungeon of Condemnation!\n\n\u201cHe addressed the young rebel in terms of love and pity. He told the\ncondemned one that he had quitted everything, risked everything from\npure love, to save him from the death which he had deserved. He warned\nhim that Justice was about to enter that prison, to shed the blood of\nthe prisoner within; that there was but one way of escape. If the rebel\nchanged garments with his merciful visitor, put off his own rags to wear\nthat white robe, he might yet make his way from the prison of\nCondemnation, and pass Justice himself in security! The Friend,\nmoreover, told the rebel that by using the watchword _Faith_, even the\nguards at the outer door would suffer him to go free; and that he would\nfind outside a guide most trusty and safe, who would lead him to a place\nof security. Then, as the prisoner, with trembling haste, made the\nneedful exchange of dress, his heart throbbing with the hope of freedom,\nand, we may also trust, with gratitude to the merciful Being who was\ncontent to remain and suffer death in his stead, his Friend placed in\nhis hand a paper, containing his last dying request to the sinner whom\nhe had saved, and charged the youth, if not for his Preserver\u2019s sake,\nyet for his own, to shun for ever those rebels who had led him into the\nguilt which was now to be atoned for at so fearful a price.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd did he really escape, and did his merciful Friend really stay and\ndie for him?\u201d cried young Browne.\n\n\u201cYou may turn to your Bibles for an answer to that question, and there\nsee who _was wounded for our transgressions_ and _bruised for our\niniquities_; who came to us when we lay in deep condemnation, and saved\nus by giving his life for us!\u201d\n\n\u201cI begin to understand your meaning,\u201d said Nayland, thoughtfully; \u201cbut I\nnever dreamed before that _I was_ a rebel, that I was in danger of\npunishment, or needed such a Friend to suffer what my sins had\ndeserved.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the white robe is the garment of the Lord\u2019s righteousness?\u201d\nmurmured Seth.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Thorn; \u201cthat which we must wear if we would quit the prison,\nor pass safely the executioner, Justice. And this brings me to the point\nwhich I wished to explain, that salvation is _only_ from the Lord, and\nthat yet we must _work out our salvation with fear and trembling_. Who\ncan deny that the prisoner owed his escape wholly and entirely to the\nmercy of his Friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one,\u201d exclaimed several voices; \u201che had no power to help himself at\nall.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut now, suppose that the prisoner, while yet beneath the shadow of his\ndungeon, should throw away his disguise as something quite unneeded,\nshould forget his watchword, turn away from his guide, and,\nnotwithstanding the last earnest warning from his Deliverer, hasten to\njoin the rebels again?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe would be ungrateful, wicked, mad to do so!\u201d cried the boys; and\nNayland added, \u201cHe would deserve to be dragged back to his dungeon, and\nsuffer a worse fate than if he never had left it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so,\u201d said Thorn; \u201cand so it will be when the Lord comes to judge\nthe earth. Those who, having tasted of the Saviour\u2019s mercy, still\npersist in joining His foes\u2014who put aside His perfect righteousness, and\nchoose the ways that He has condemned, not repenting of or forsaking\nthose sins which cost His precious life, will be more severely judged\nthan the heathen who have never known Him or His laws.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is one thing which I should like to know,\u201d lisped the youngest\nchild in the school: \u201cWhat was put in the paper which the kind Friend\ngave to the poor prisoner just as he set him free?\u201d\n\n\u201cHis dying request, doubtless,\u201d said Nayland.\n\n\u201cWhat words would you say were to be found in that paper?\u201d said Thorn to\nEdmund Butler, an intelligent boy, who was usually at the head of the\nschool.\n\nEdmund reflected for a moment, and then said, \u201c_If ye love Me, keep My\ncommandments._\u201d\n\nThorn saw that an answer was trembling on the lips of poor Seth, and\nencouraged him by a glance to say it aloud: \u201c_This is My commandment,\nThat ye love one another, as I have loved you._\u201d\n\n\u201cHere, then,\u201d said the teacher, \u201cis the motive of _love_. Remember,\u201d he\ncontinued, impressively, \u201cthat this was our Saviour\u2019s dying request,\nwhen He who was innocence itself was about to suffer shame, agony, and\ndeath for our sakes. Is there one heart here so cold that it would\nslight the last wish of a dying Friend\u2014so ungrateful that it would seek\nto make no return for love so exceeding great? Can we think on His\nmercy, and yet be unmerciful; and, by our unkind, ungenerous conduct\ntowards our fellow-creatures, show that the highest motive has no power\nover our souls, and that we choose heartlessly and ungratefully to\nneglect the only way by which we can prove our love to Him who loved us\nand gave Himself for us?\u201d\n\nThere was no immediate answer to this question\u2014perhaps the teacher did\nnot expect to receive one; but as the boys passed out of the\nschool-room, when the lessons were over, Thorn saw with a feeling of\npleasure young Nayland walk up to Seth Delmar, and, while his cheek\nflushed crimson, whisper something in his ear, to which the poor boy\nreplied by warmly grasping his hand. And Seth was no longer persecuted\nin the school, despised by his companions, or taunted with his sin. The\nboys had learned to show more indulgence to the failings of others, from\nhaving a truer knowledge of their own; and finding that they had all\nbroken the great commandment, and had no hope but from the merits and\nmercy of their Lord, they looked with more pity upon a poor\nfellow-sinner, whose transgression had been repented of and forgiven.\n\n No heart is pure from evil; none\n Can say before the Holy One,\n \u201cI in my strength the race have run,\n Have fought the fight successfully!\n\n \u201cIn faith and virtue I have dwelt;\n No proud, unholy feelings felt,\n Nor mocked my Maker when I knelt,\n By wandering thoughts of vanity.\n\n \u201cMy first desire, in all things seen,\n To glorify my God hath been;\n My lips are pure, my heart is clean;\u2014\n Thou know\u2019st my soul\u2019s integrity!\u201d\n\n Ah, no! far other plea be mine,\n As at Thy cross, O Lamb divine,\n For Thy dear sake, and only Thine,\n I ask for mercy tremblingly!\n\n My sins are more than I can count,\n Each day is swelling the amount;\n All stained with guilt, I seek the Fount\n Of holiness and purity.\n\n Forgive the debt that I confess,\u2014\n Wash out my sins, my efforts bless;\n And clothe me with Thy righteousness,\n In time and through eternity!\n\n[Illustration: [church spire view]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER III.\n THE MOTHER\u2019S RETURN.\n\n\n \u201cTrust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own\n understanding.\u201d\u2014PROV. iii. 5.\n\n\n\u201cI am so glad that dear mother is coming back to-day!\u201d cried little Mary\nBenson; \u201cit seemed as if the week would never be over.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; if we had not been so busy knitting these cuffs for her, we should\nhave found the time weary indeed,\u201d said Maria. \u201cBut how much pleased she\nwill be to have them; and what a surprise it will be to her when she did\nnot even know that we could knit!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was very kind in Mrs. Peters to teach us. I hope that she will not\nlet out her secret: mother was to call at her house on her way back, to\nleave the parcel of wool.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: MARIA AND MARY.]\n\n\u201cPoor mother! she will be weary enough with her long, tiresome walk.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will forget all when she presses us to her heart,\u201d cried little\nMary, her eyes sparkling with pleasure at the thought. \u201cOh, to think of\nbeing in her dear arms again! How we shall rush into them!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf mother could have afforded to pay for the coach, she might have been\nhere by this time; but it seems as if she had never one sixpence to\nspare,\u201d sighed Maria. \u201cI cannot help thinking,\u201d added the little girl,\nafter a pause, turning listlessly over the pages of a book which she was\nrather looking at than reading\u2014\u201cI cannot help thinking that the Almighty\ncares less for us than He does for the rich and the great. If He is as\ntender and loving as we are told that He is, how is it that we want for\nso many things?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Maria, it is very sinful to think in that way! We must trust in the\nLord with all our heart; and not, in our naughty pride, fancy that we\nknow what is good for us better than He who is all wisdom as well as\nlove.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to know why there are such differences in the world,\u201d\nsaid Maria.\n\n\u201cWe must remember what the Saviour said to Peter: _What I do thou\nknowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter._ In another world we\nshall see that all God does is right. Do you not recollect what the\nclergyman told us in his sermon last Sunday\u2014that if there were no\ndifferences of station in this life, the rich would not be able to\nexercise charity, nor the poor to exercise patience?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe task of the rich is much easier than that of the poor,\u201d observed\nMaria, with a discontented look.\n\n\u201cPerhaps not,\u201d gently suggested Mary. \u201cI do not think that the Bible\nmakes it appear so: we are so often warned of the dangers of riches; and\nnone of us can tell, if we had them, whether we should make a good use\nof them. I like those lines which mother taught us to repeat\u2014\n\n \u2018The greatest evil we can fear\n Is\u2014to possess our portion here.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are little likely to suffer from that evil,\u201d observed Maria, with a\nbitter smile. \u201cIt does seem to me hard that mother\u2014who is always so\nreligious, and patient, and good\u2014should have to work so hard and yet\ngain so little, while others have plenty without working at all. It\nseems as if God were hiding His face from us.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! _trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine\nown understanding_. This is one of the verses which mother told me\nquiets her mind whenever she is tempted to murmur at her lot. But is not\nthat mother crossing the field? Yes, yes! it is our own dear mother!\u201d\nAnd both of the children, with a cry of delight, flew to the door to\nmeet her, carrying their little present in their hands.\n\n[Illustration: WATCHING FOR MOTHER.]\n\nBut what was the amazement of the girls at the reception which they met\nwith from their mother\u2014from her whom they so tenderly loved and had been\nso anxiously expecting! Mrs. Benson\u2019s face was flushed, her manner\nhurried. Not one kiss, not one welcome smile, not one kind word did she\ngive; but waving them away impatiently as they sprang forward to welcome\nher, \u201cBack, back!\u201d she cried; \u201cdon\u2019t touch me!\u201d\u2014and passing them in a\nmoment, she hastened up-stairs to her own room.\n\nNeither of the children could at first utter a word. With open eyes and\nlips apart, they stood as if transfixed, their surprise and\nmortification were so great. Then slowly and sadly they retraced their\nsteps, and returned to the room which they had just quitted. Neither\nspoke for a little while, till Maria, pettishly flinging down the cuff\nwhich she had knitted, exclaimed,\u2014\n\n\u201cWho would ever have thought that mother could be so unkind!\u201d\n\n\u201cUnkind? Oh, never, never say such a word!\u201d cried Mary, her own eyes\nswimming with tears.\n\n\u201cShe looked as if she would have pushed me back\u2014me, her own child!\u2014if I\nhad ventured a little nearer; and after not having seen us for so many\ndays! I cannot think what could make her treat us in such a manner!\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t think, but _trust_,\u201d faltered her gentle sister. \u201cWe may be\ncertain that mother has good reasons of her own. She always loves us,\nand acts for our good; and though we cannot just now understand what she\ndoes, we may be sure, quite sure, that it is wise and kind.\u201d\n\n\u201cBless you, my child, for your loving trust!\u201d exclaimed her mother, who\nwas at that moment entering the room, and who now pressed her little\ndaughter to her heart more warmly and more tenderly than ever, as though\nto make up by increasing love for even five minutes\u2019 apparent neglect.\n\n\u201cO mother, why would you not let us come near you?\u201d exclaimed Maria, as\nshe, too, shared in the fond embrace.\n\n\u201cFor your own sakes, my darlings; only for your own sakes. I had called\non Mrs. Peters, as I had promised, on my way; and not till I had entered\ninto her cottage did I know that her only son was then lying there\ndangerously ill of the scarlet fever.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor Robin!\u201d cried the little girls, full of sympathy for the trouble\nof their neighbour. \u201cIs not that fever terrible and infectious?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost infectious, my children; and I own that I felt grieved and\nfrightened at having entered the house. I fear not for myself. Were it\nnot for you I should have offered to remain to help to nurse the poor\nboy: but I dreaded lest I might be carrying here death in my very\nclothes\u2014that I might be bringing misery into my own happy home; and not\ntill I had laid aside my bonnet and large cloak did I dare to embrace my\nchildren. You met me so eagerly at the door that I was obliged to call\nout very hastily, or you would have been in my arms before I could stop\nyou; and I had no time for explanations then.\u201d\n\n\u201cMother had good reasons,\u201d said Maria to herself: \u201chow strange it was\nthat I ever could doubt her!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how is poor Mrs. Peters?\u201d inquired Mary, as her mother took a chair\nnear the fire, and her little daughters seated themselves at her feet.\n\u201cShe is so fond of her son!\u2014she could not live without him. How does she\nbear this terrible trial?\u201d\n\n\u201cLike a Christian,\u201d replied her mother\u2014\u201clike one who knows that all\nevents are in the hands of an all-wise Being, who does not willingly\nafflict His children. All her hopes and her fears are laid before Him in\nprayer; and having used all human means to preserve her son, she now\nrests humbly on the infinite mercy of the Lord, who ordereth all things\nwell. She has been given that trusting, confiding spirit which is so\npleasing in the sight of Heaven.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, that is what I want!\u201d murmured Maria, hiding her head on her\nparent\u2019s knee. \u201cMother, I have learned a lesson to-day from the pain\nwhich it cost me to doubt _your_ love, and the shame that I feel now\nthat I ever could have done so. Mary deserved your first kiss, mother. I\ncan love, very greatly love; but she can both love and _trust_.\u201d\n\n Trust in the Lord with all thy heart\n While sunshine glitters o\u2019er thee;\n Oh, choose in youth the better part,\n When all is bright before thee!\n Nor think thy pleasures will decrease:\n \u2019Tis Faith that here brings joy and peace,\n And leads to heaven\u2019s glory.\n\n Trust in the Lord with all thy heart\n When sorrows gather o\u2019er thee;\n When lone and desolate thou art,\n And all is dark before thee.\n \u2019Tis Faith that can the mourner cheer;\n \u2019Tis Faith gives hope and patience here,\n And leads to heaven\u2019s glory.\n\n[Illustration: [sheep at gate]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n THE FRIEND IN NEED.\n\n\n \u201cThine own friend, and thy father\u2019s friend, forsake not.\u201d\u2014PROV. xxvii.\n 10.\n\n\nThere was not a happier mother in the village than Mrs. Peters, nor a\nbetter son than her Robin. She had trained up her child in the way he\nshould go, and it was now his delight to walk in it; she had not shrunk\nfrom correcting his faults, and he loved her the better for the\ncorrection; she had taught him from the Bible his duty towards his God,\nand from the same pages he had learned his duty towards his mother. It\nwas a pleasant sight on the Sabbath morning, to see them walking up the\nlittle pathway which led to the church\u2014the feeble parent leaning on the\nstrong, healthy son, who carried her Bible and prayer-book for her. Mrs.\nPeters never had the slightest feeling of envy towards those who\nappeared above her in the world\u2014she would not have changed places with\nany one. \u201cThey may have riches, fine houses, broad lands,\u201d she would\nsay; \u201cbut who has a son like mine!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: GOING TO CHURCH.]\n\nOn the Sunday afternoon, however, Robin did not accompany his mother to\nchurch. Perhaps you may suppose that, after his hard work all the week,\nhe thought that he needed a little rest or amusement; that you might\nhave found him at \u201cthe idle corner\u201d of the village, joining in the\nsports of younger companions; and that he considered, like too many,\nalas! that having given the Sabbath morning to religion, he might do\nwhat he pleased with the rest of the day. Let us follow Robin Peters in\nhis Sunday pursuits, and see where, after partaking of dinner with his\nmother, he bends his willing steps.\n\n[Illustration: ON A VISIT.]\n\nOver the common, through the wood, up the steep hill-side! It matters\nnot to him that the way is long; that in winter part of the road\nscarcely deserves the name of one at all, being almost impassable from\nslough and snow. Cheerfully he hastens along, with a light springing\nstep; sometimes shortening the way with a hymn, or gazing around on the\nendless variety of nature, and lifting up his heart to nature\u2019s God!\nThere is surely something very pleasant that awaits Robin Peters at the\nend of his walk, that he always should take it in this one direction;\nshould never give it up, fair weather or foul; and look so happy while\npursuing his way!\n\n[Illustration: OLD WILL AYLMER.]\n\nHe stops at last at the door of a poor little hovel, built partly of\nmud, and thatched with straw. The broken panes in the single window have\nbeen patched with paper by Robin\u2019s hand, instead of being, as formerly,\nstuffed up with rags; but either way they speak of poverty and want. By\nthe miserable little fire\u2014which could scarcely be kept up at all, but\nfor the sticks which Robin has supplied\u2014sits a poor old man, almost bent\ndouble by time, the long hair falling on his wrinkled brow, his hand\ntrembling, his eye dim with age. But there is a kindling pleasure even\nin that dim eye, as he hears a well-known rap at the door; and warm is\nthe press of that thin, trembling hand, as it returns the kindly grasp\nof Robin!\n\nFirst there are inquiries for the old man\u2019s health, and these take some\ntime to answer; for it is a relief to the suffering to pour out long\ncomplaints\u2014it is a comfort to them if one kindly ear will listen with\ninterest and patience. Then the contents of Robin\u2019s pockets are emptied\nupon the broken deal box, which serves at once as chest of drawers and\ntable to the old man, and a seat to the visitors, \u201cfew and far between,\u201d\nwho find their way to the hovel on the hill. The present brought by the\nyouth varies from week to week. He has little to give, but he always\nbrings something to eke out old Will Aylmer\u2019s parish allowance:\nsometimes it is a little tea from his mother; perhaps a pair of warm\nsocks, knitted by herself; or a part of his own dinner, if he has\nnothing else to bring to the poor and aged friend of his father.\n\nAfter the depths of the pockets had been duly explored, Robin, seated on\nthe box, very close to the old man, for Aylmer was extremely hard of\nhearing, repeated to him, in a loud tone of voice, as much of the\nmorning\u2019s sermon as he could remember. He whom age and infirmities kept\nfrom the house of God, thus, from the kindness of a youth, every week\nreceived some portion of spiritual food. But most did he enjoy when\nRobin opened the Bible\u2014for, poor as Aylmer was, he was provided with\nthat\u2014and in the same loud, distinct voice read the blessed words which\nthe dim eyes of his friend could no longer see.\n\nAfter the holy book was closed, it was long before Robin found that he\nwas able to depart, Aylmer liked so much to hear all about his friends\nand his neighbours\u2014everything which passed in the village in which the\nold man had once lived. It was something for him to think over during\nthe long, lonely week, to prevent his feeling himself quite shut out\nfrom the living world. And Robin had not only to speak, but to listen;\nand this, notwithstanding the deafness of old Aylmer, was perhaps the\nharder task of the two. Not only the poor man\u2019s sight, but his memory\nalso was failing: his mind was growing weak and childish with age, and\nhis tedious and oft-repeated tales would have wearied out any patience\nthat was not grounded on Christian love! And so the afternoon of the\nSabbath passed with Robin Peters, and he returned weary but happy to his\nhome, to enjoy a quiet, holy evening with his mother. He had poured\nsweetness into a bitter cup; he had followed the footsteps of his\ncompassionate Lord; and he had obeyed the precept given in the\nScriptures, _Thine own friend, and thy father\u2019s friend, forsake not._\n\nAfter what has been written, it is scarcely necessary to add that the\nlife of Robin was a happy one. At peace with God and at peace with man;\nearning his bread by honest industry; in debt to none, in enmity with\nnone; blessed with friends, cheerful spirits, and excellent health, he\nwas far happier than many who wear a crown. But though religion can\nsupport the Lord\u2019s people under trials, it does not prevent their having\nto undergo them like others, and after several years had been spent in\ncomfort and peace, a cloud was gathering over the home of Robin.\n\nOne Saturday evening he returned from his work complaining of headache\nand a pain in his throat. Mrs. Peters concluded that he had taken a\nchill, and, advising him to go early to rest, prepared for him some\nsimple remedy, which she trusted would \u201cset all to rights.\u201d Robin took\nwhat she gave him with thanks, but he seemed strangely silent that\nevening, and sat with his brow resting upon his hand, as though\noppressed by a weight in his head. The fond mother grew anxious\u2014who can\nhelp being so whose earthly happiness rests upon _one_? She felt her\nson\u2019s hand feverish and hot; she was alarmed by the burning flush on his\ncheek, and proposed begging the doctor to call. At first Robin objected\nto this: he had hardly ever known sickness in his life, the medical man\nlived at some distance, and the night was closing in. In the maladies of\nthe body\u2014but, oh, how much more in those of the soul!\u2014how foolish and\ndangerous a thing is delay!\n\nAnother hour passed, and the fever and pain of the sufferer appeared to\nincrease. Again the mother anxiously proposed to send for the doctor;\nand this time Robin made no opposition. \u201cPerhaps it might be as well,\u201d\nhe faintly said. \u201cI did not like making you uneasy by saying it\nbefore\u2014but there has been a case of scarlet fever up at the farm.\u201d\n\nThe words struck like a knife into the mother\u2019s heart! There was not\nanother moment of delay; she hastily ran out to the door of a neighbour,\nand easily found a friend (for it was often remarked that Mrs. Peters\nand her son never wanted friends) who would hasten off for the medical\nman.\n\nRobin in the meantime retired to his bed, feeling unable to sit up\nlonger. The symptoms of his disorder soon became more alarming\u2014a scarlet\nglow spread over his frame, his pulse beat high, his temples throbbed;\nand his mother, in an agony of fear which she could only calm by prayer,\nsat watching for the arrival of the doctor.\n\nDr. Merton had just sat down to a very late dinner with two old\nschool-fellows of his, whom he had not met for years; and they promised\nthemselves a very pleasant evening together. \u201cNothing like old\nfriendships, and old friends!\u201d he said gaily, as the covers were removed\nfrom the steaming dishes, and they saw before them a comfortable repast,\nwhich the late hour and a twenty miles\u2019 ride had given all a hearty\nappetite to enjoy. \u201cNothing like old friends, old stories, old\nrecollections!\u2014we shall seem to live our school-days over again, and\nfeel ourselves boys once more!\u201d\n\nThere was a ring at the door-bell, a very loud ring\u2014there was impatience\nand haste in the sound of it. \u201cI hope that\u2019s nothing to disturb our\nsociable evening,\u201d said Dr. Merton, who, having filled the plates of\nboth his friends, was just placing a slice of roast beef on his own. He\npaused, with the carving knife and fork still in his hand, as his\nservant entered the room.\n\n\u201cPlease, sir, here\u2019s Tom Grange come in haste from Redburn, and he says\nthat Robin Peters is taken very ill, and his mother begs to see you\ndirectly.\u201d\n\nThe knife and fork were laid down, perhaps a little unwillingly, and the\ndoctor arose from his chair.\n\n\u201cWhy, Merton, you\u2019re not going now!\u201d cried one of his companions.\n\n\u201cJust wait till after dinner,\u201d said the other.\n\n\u201cExcuse me; Mrs. Peters is not the woman to send me such a message\nwithout sufficient cause. I have known her and her son too for many a\nlong year, and they shall not find me fail them in their trouble.\u201d\n\nSo the doctor put on his great-coat, took down his hat, begged his\nfriends to do justice to the good cheer provided, and left them, if I\nmust own it, with no small regret, to sally forth in that cold wintry\nnight, tired and hungry as he was. He walked fast, both to save time and\nto keep himself warm; but his pace would have been even more rapid had\nhe known the agonizing anxiety, increasing every minute, with which his\narrival was expected. The door, as he reached it, was opened by the\nwidow, who looked upon him with the breathless earnestness of one who\nexpects to hear a sentence of life or death.\n\nA very short examination of the sufferer enabled the doctor to pronounce\nthat his case was one of decided scarlet fever. Some one must sit up\nwith him and watch him that night; a messenger should instantly be sent\nwith the remedies required; the doctor would himself call the first\nthing the next morning.\n\n\u201cYou do not think my boy\u2014_very_ ill, sir?\u201d faltered the mother, folding\nher hands, and fixing her eyes upon Dr. Merton with an expression of\nmuch grief, which touched the kind man to the heart.\n\n\u201cHe is ill, I cannot deny that; but keep a good heart, he has youth and\na fine constitution in his favour; and I need not remind you, my friend,\nto apply for help to Him in whose hands are the issues of life and of\ndeath.\u201d\n\nOh, how often that night, that long, fearful night, did prayer arise\nfrom the widow\u2019s low-roofed cottage! It seemed as though the darkness\nwould never be passed. At the end of every weary hour the night-breeze\nbrought the sound of the church-clock to the watcher\u2019s ear, while the\nstars still trembled in the sky. The wick of the candle burned long and\nlow, the last spark in the grate had died out, and there lay the\nsufferer, so helpless, so still, that it seemed as though his soul were\nin like manner silently, surely passing from its dwelling of clay!\n\nBut with the return of morning\u2019s light the fever rose, and the malady\ntook its more terrible form. Robin knew nothing of what was passing\naround him; even his much-loved mother he recognized no more; his mind\nbecame full of strange, wild fancies, the delirious dreams of fever. His\nmother listened in anguish to his ravings; but a deeper grief was spared\nher\u2014even when reason no longer guided his lips, those lips uttered not a\nword that could raise a blush on the cheek of his mother. Robin\u2019s\nconversation had been pure in the days of his health\u2014he had kept his\nmouth as with a bridle; and the habit of a life was seen even now when\nhe lay at the gates of death! His mother heard his unconscious\nprayers\u2014words from Scripture instinctively spoken; and while her hot\ntears gushed more freely forth, she was thankful from the depths of her\nsoul. There was no death-bed repentance here for a life devoted to sin;\nRobin had not left the work of faith and love for the dregs of age or\nthe languor of a sick-bed. She felt that if Heaven were pleased to take\nhim from her now, _he was safe_, safe in the care of One who loved him\nbetter than even she did; though consciousness might never return to\nhim, though he might never again breathe on earth one connected prayer,\n_he was safe_, in time and in eternity, through the merits of the\nSaviour whom he had loved.\n\n\u201cO sir! I am so thankful to see you!\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Peters, as, pale\nand worn with watching, she received the doctor at an early hour of the\nmorning. \u201cMy poor boy is very feverish and restless indeed\u2014he does not\nknow me!\u201d\u2014the tears rolled down her cheek as she spoke; \u201cI am scarcely\nable to make him keep in his bed!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must have assistance,\u201d said Dr. Merton, walking up to his patient.\nWords broke from Robin\u2019s lips as he approached him\u2014words rather gasped\nforth than spoken: \u201cI must go\u2014he expects me; indeed I must go\u2014my own\nfriend and my father\u2019s friend.\u201d He made an effort to rise, but sank back\nexhausted on the pillow.\n\n\u201cThere is something on his mind,\u201d observed the doctor.\n\n\u201cIt is that he is accustomed to visit a poor old friend, Will Aylmer,\nwho lives in the hovel on the hill.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill Aylmer!\u201d repeated the doctor, as though the name were familiar to\nhim. And well might it be so, for the feeble old man had in years long\npast served as gardener to his father; and many a time had the little\nMerton received flowers from his hand, or been carried in his arms,\nwhich then were sturdy and strong.\n\nDr. Merton now examined his patient, and the poor mother read from the\ndoctor\u2019s looks, rather than from his words, that he entertained little\nhope of her son\u2019s recovery. As he quitted that home of sorrow, Dr.\nMerton sighed from mingling feelings.\n\n\u201cI fear that poor Robin is near his last home,\u201d thought he; \u201cand yet why\nshould I _fear_, since I believe that for him it will be but an earlier\nenjoyment of bliss! He has shamed me, that poor peasant boy! Even in his\ndelirium he is thinking of another; he is struggling to rise from the\nbed of death to go on his wonted visit of kindness to his own and his\nfather\u2019s friend! and I, blessed with means so much larger than his, have\nfor thirty long years neglected, nay forgotten, the old faithful servant\nof my family! I shall look upon poor Will Aylmer as a legacy from Robin.\nHe has done what he could for his friend during life; and by his dying\nwords\u2014if it please God that he should die\u2014he shall have done yet more\nfor the old man.\u201d\n\nFor three days Robin continued in an alarming state, and his mother\nnever closed an eye in sleep. Love and fear seemed to give her weak\nframe strength to support any amount of fatigue; or, as she said, it was\nthe goodness of the Almighty that held her up through her bitter trial.\nOn the fourth morning Robin sank into a deep sleep. She gazed on his\nfeatures, pale and death-like as they were; for the red flush of fever\nhad all passed away, and he lay motionless, silent, but with that\npeaceful look which often remains when the spirit has departed. A\nterrible doubt flashed upon the mother\u2019s mind, a doubt whether all were\nnot over! She approaches her son with a step noiseless as the dew, the\nlight feather of a bird in her hand. She holds it near to his lips\u2014his\nbreath has moved it!\u2014no! that was but the trembling of her fingers! She\nlays it on the pillow, her heart throbbing fast\u2014is that the morning\nbreeze that so lightly stirs the down? No; thank God, he still\nbreathes!\u2014he still lives!\n\nMrs. Peters sank upon her knees, buried her face in her hands, and once\nmore implored Him who had compassion on the desolate widow of Nain, to\nsave her beloved son; \u201cBut, O Lord,\u201d she added, with an almost bursting\nheart, \u201cif it be Thy will to remove him to a happier world, give me\ngrace not to murmur beneath the rod, but to say humbly, \u2018Thy will be\ndone.\u2019\u201d\n\nAs she rose from her knees she turned her eyes towards her son, and they\nmet his, calmly, lovingly fixed upon her, with an expression, oh how\ndifferent from that which they had worn during the feverish excitement\nof delirium! \u201cYou were praying for me,\u201d he said, very faintly; \u201cand the\nLord has answered your prayer!\u201d The deep joy of that moment would have\noverpowered the mother, had it not been tempered by a fear that this\nimprovement might be but as the last flash of a dying lamp, and that the\ndanger was not yet over.\n\nBut from that hour Robin\u2019s recovery rapidly progressed, and the fever\nnever returned. He was weak, indeed, for many a long day; his vigorous\narm had lost all its powers\u2014he had to be fed and supported like a child.\nBut it was a delight to Mrs. Peters to do everything for him, and to\nwatch his gradual improvement in strength. Nor, poor as she was, did she\never know want while her son was unable to work. All the neighbourhood\nseemed pleased to do something for Robin\u2014to help him who had been so\nready to help others. The squire\u2019s lady sent wine and meat from her own\ntable; the clergyman\u2019s wife brought him strong broth; the farmer, his\nmaster, supplied him with bacon and eggs; and many a neighbour who had\nlittle to give yet joyfully gave of that little.\n\n[Illustration: SEEKING THE LORD.]\n\n\u201cHow good every one is to me!\u201d exclaimed Robin, as a parcel from the\ngrocer\u2019s was opened before him on the first day that he was able to quit\nhis bed. \u201cI only wish that I could send some of this to Will Aylmer; I\nam afraid that he has missed me while I was ill.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, he has been looked after,\u201d replied Mrs. Peters with a smile: her\ncare-worn face was becoming quite bright again.\n\n\u201cWho has taken care of him?\u201d inquired Robin.\n\n\u201cI must not tell you, my son; you are to hear all from the old man\u2019s own\nlips.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid that it will be very long before I am strong enough to\nvisit him;\u2014how glad I shall be to see him again!\u201d\n\nTwo or three days after this, a bright warm sun tempted the invalid to\ntake advantage of the doctor\u2019s permission, and try a little walk in the\nopen air. Leaning on the arm of his thankful, happy mother, Robin again\ncrossed that threshold which it once seemed so likely that he would only\npass in his coffin. It was a sweet morning in the early spring, and oh,\nhow delightful to him who had been confined on the couch of fever was\nthe sunshine that lighted up the face of nature, the sight of the woods\nwith their light mantle of green, the blue sky dappled with fleecy\nclouds; even the crocus and the snowdrop in his mother\u2019s little garden\nseemed to speak of joy and hope; and pleasant was the feeling of the\nbalmy breeze that played upon his pale, sunken cheek.\n\n \u201cThe common air, the earth, the skies,\n To him were opening paradise!\u201d\n\nRobin lifted up his heart in silent thanksgiving, and in prayer that the\nlife which the Almighty had preserved might be always devoted to His\nservice.\n\n\u201cDo you feel strong enough, my son, to walk as far as that cottage\nyonder?\u201d inquired Mrs. Peters.\n\n\u201cI think that, with your arm, I might reach even the tree beyond.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, suppose that we pay a visit to old Aylmer!\u201d\n\nRobin laughed aloud at the idea. \u201cWhy, my dear mother, neither you nor I\nhave strength to go one quarter of that distance; I fear that I must\ndelay that visit for some time to come.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing like trying,\u201d replied Mrs. Peters gaily; and they\nproceeded a little way together.\n\n\u201cIs it not strange?\u2014I am weary already,\u201d said the youth.\n\n\u201cThen we will rest in this cottage for a little.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was empty before my illness; if there is any one in it now, a\npatient just recovered from the scarlet fever might not be made very\nwelcome.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you will be made welcome here, I can answer for that,\u201d cried Mrs.\nPeters; and at that moment who should come tottering from the door, joy\noverspreading his aged face, his eyes glistening with tears of pleasure\nand affection, but Robin\u2019s poor old friend! He grasped the youth\u2019s hand\nin both his own, and blessed God fervently for letting him see the face\nof his \u201cdear boy\u201d once more!\n\n\u201cBut how is this?\u201d exclaimed Robin, with joyful surprise.\n\nThe deaf man rather read the question in Robin\u2019s eyes than caught the\nsense of it from words which he scarcely could hear. \u201cDr. Merton\u2014bless\nhim!\u2014has brought me here, and has promised to care for the poor old man:\nand he bade me tell you\u201d\u2014Aylmer paused, and pressed his hand upon his\nwrinkled forehead, for his powers of memory were almost gone\u2014\u201che bade me\ntell you that these comforts I owed to you. I can\u2019t recollect all that\nhe said, but I know very well that he ended with the words, \u2018_Thine own\nfriend, and thy father\u2019s friend, forsake not._\u2019\u201d\n\n Forsake not thou thy father\u2019s friend,\n Forsake not thou thine own,\n Though care and grief his form may bow,\n And frosts of age are on his brow,\n And like a leafless willow now\n He stands on earth alone.\n\n Forsake not thou thy father\u2019s friend,\n Revere the hoary head.\n Thou mayst have little to bestow\n To lessen want or lighten woe,\n But who does not the comfort know\n Which one kind word can shed!\n\n Forsake not thou thy father\u2019s friend,\u2014\n So, when thy strength is o\u2019er,\n Mayst thou ne\u2019er want a friend in need,\n Thy age to cheer, thy footsteps lead;\n And He who is \u201ca Friend indeed\u201d\n Be thine for evermore!\n\n[Illustration: [church front]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER V.\n FORBIDDEN GROUND.\n\n\n \u201cMy son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.\u201d\u2014PROV. i. 10.\n\n\nLittle Joseph Ashton was idling about the streets of London on a Sunday\nafternoon. He had been to church in the morning, and had behaved there\nlike a quiet, attentive child: he had brought home the text to his\ngrandmother, and had also learned two other verses from the Bible.\nJoseph was not without some feeling of religion: in church he often\nappeared very devout, especially when he heard the sweet music of the\nhymn. His grandmother found him obedient and loving, and fondly hoped\nthat her dear son might grow up a true servant of the Lord. But, alas!\npoor Joseph\u2019s goodness was often as the morning dew, it could not stand\nthe hot sun of temptation. Like that strange creature called the\nchameleon, which is said to change its colour according to the objects\nthat are near it, Joseph changed his conduct according to his\ncompanions: he had learned many good things both at home and at school,\nbut he had not yet learned to say _No_!\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE JOSEPH.]\n\nLittle Joseph now stood at the side of the New Road, looking carelessly\nat the crowds passing before him, watching the tired omnibus horses\ndragging their heavy loads\u2014alas! that mercy, if not religion, should not\ngive them their one day\u2019s rest! There were hawkers, and sellers of\nsweetmeats behind their tempting stalls, little thinking, poor and often\nignorant as they are, that they are doing the work of the Evil One, by\nleading others to sin! _What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole\nworld, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for\nhis soul?_ What will these poor sinners think of their miserable\nprofits, the heaps of pence collected on the Sabbath, when they stand\nbefore the Judge of quick and dead! Oh, for a voice to warn them in\ntime, to persuade them that He in whose hands are all things would\nabundantly make up to them, here and hereafter, for all that they might\ngive up for His sake; that better, _far better, is poverty than sin_;\nthat it is a happy thing to trust in the mercy of God, who knows and\npities their wants; and that _the blessing of the Lord it maketh rich,\nand He addeth no sorrow thereto_.\n\nI fear that these were not the thoughts of little Joseph, whose mind was\njust in that vacant state which tempts evil to enter. As he stood with\nboth his hands in his pockets, leaning against an iron lamp-post, two\nschool-fellows of his, Jack and Thomas Higgins, came up to him from\nbehind.\n\n\u201cI say, Joseph,\u201d cried Jack, slapping him on the shoulder, \u201chave you any\ncoppers about you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, yes; what makes you ask me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve a mind to some of that pink rock on yon stall\u2014it\u2019s the nicest\nthing in the world. I shared my gingerbread with you yesterday, so it\u2019s\nonly fair that you stand treat to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll get some to-morrow,\u201d said Joseph, who had a lively remembrance of\nthe impressive manner of the clergyman that morning when he repeated the\ncommandment of the Most High, _Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it\nholy_.\n\n[Illustration: THE STREET STALL.]\n\n\u201cTo-morrow! Oh, nonsense! we want it now.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t mean to say that your old granny has been putting silly\nfancies into your head about it\u2019s being wrong to buy a little\nbarley-sugar on Sunday?\u201d cried Tom, in a mocking tone.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019ll next say that it\u2019s a sin to eat it!\u201d laughed Jack.\n\nJoseph coloured, as though there were anything to be ashamed of in\nlistening to his grandmother, or in obeying his God. He stood fumbling\nhis pence in his pocket, in an uncomfortable, irresolute manner.\n\n\u201cCome, out with it!\u201d cried Jack, \u201clike a good fellow as you are; I\u2019ll be\nbound no one will peach you to your granny.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019d not be tied to her apron-strings like a baby!\u201d said Tom. \u201cThere!\njust look at the stall; isn\u2019t it tempting?\u201d\n\nVery tempting it certainly was, and poor Joseph was one who had little\ncourage to resist temptation. So he exchanged his pence for the piece of\npink rock, which he divided between himself and his companions; who,\nhaving obtained all that they wanted from their schoolfellow, sauntered\ncarelessly away.\n\nJoseph was in the act of eating his portion of the sweetmeat, feeling\nuneasy from a consciousness of doing wrong\u2014for he had not attained that\nterrible hardness of heart which comes by long practice of sin\u2014when a\nlady, who took an interest in the school which he attended, approached\nhim on her way towards church. At one glance she recognized the boy, who\nhad been rather a favourite of hers; and his look of shame, yet more\nthan the employment in which he was engaged, and the nearness of the\nstall at which he had been buying, showed Mrs. Graham that he had been\nprofaning the Sabbath.\n\n\u201cIs any pleasure worth a sin?\u201d she said softly as she passed; and,\ngently as those words were spoken, they seemed to leave a sting behind.\nThe short enjoyment of the sweetmeat was speedily over; indeed, so\nunpleasant were the feelings of its purchaser, that it could hardly be\nsaid to have been enjoyed at all. Joseph returned home discontented and\nashamed; he knew that he had acted both sinfully and weakly, and had\nneglected the warning in the Bible, _My son, if sinners entice thee,\nconsent thou not_.\n\nA few weeks after this occurrence, Mrs. Graham announced her intention\nof giving a treat to all the children of the school. She had a pretty\ncountry villa but a few miles from town, and invited the scholars to\ntake tea and cake, and spend a half-holiday in her grounds. A large van\nwas hired to convey the whole party; and the expedition to Maythorn\nLodge was looked forward to with extreme delight.\n\nA fear certainly crossed the mind of Joseph, that, his late fault having\nbeen noticed by the lady, he might be excluded from the treat given to\nthe rest. But it was not so; and when the crowded van drove off, while\nthe merry throng with laughter and shouts clustered within like bees in\na swarm, there was none among them gayer or happier than Joseph.\n\nIt seemed as if everything combined to heighten the pleasure provided\nfor the children. The weather was neither too hot nor too cold; the\ndelightful sun of May shone to brighten but not to burn; the hedges were\ngay with the blossoms of spring, and the meadows were spangled with\ndaisies.\n\nMrs. Graham with cheerful kindness received her young guests. A long\ndeal table had been spread on the lawn; huge piles of sliced cake\nappeared down the middle; and as the merry, eager children took their\nplaces on each side, hot tea was handed round in large kettles. The\nbenevolent lady looked smilingly on, as if sharing the enjoyment which\nshe gave.\n\n[Illustration: THE LAWN.]\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said she, when the repast was ended, \u201cI shall leave you to\namuse yourselves here. I know that you will enjoy a good merry game, and\nthe lawn will make a capital play-ground. I have but to desire you all\nto respect my flowers, and, above all, not to run over my strawberry\nbeds; that gravel path shall mark out your bounds\u2014all beyond it is\nforbidden ground.\u201d\n\nA ready promise was instantly made, which, probably, every one intended\nto keep. The lady thought that there would be little temptation to break\nit, for the fruit of the strawberry had not yet appeared, though plenty\nof blossoms on the low green plants gave promise of an abundant supply\nbefore long.\n\nFor a while no difficulty was felt in obeying the kind lady\u2019s command.\nThe flowers were quite safe on their stalks, not a foot touched a\nstrawberry blossom. But, unfortunately, Jack Higgins had brought his\nbat, and nothing would please either his brother or him but the idea of\na game of cricket.\n\n\u201cIf we had a field to play in,\u201d said Edmund Butler, \u201cthere is nothing\nthat I should like better; but there is hardly room for such a game\nhere, for it is very likely indeed that the ball would be sent into the\nforbidden ground. The strawberry bed would be in danger.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt certainly would,\u201d added Joseph.\n\n\u201cI wish that it stood anywhere but where it does!\u201d exclaimed Tom,\npreparing two stumps for the wicket; \u201cbut I don\u2019t believe that we\u2019ll do\nany harm, and I\u2019m quite resolved to have a game!\u201d\n\nThere was instantly a division amongst the boys, some deciding to obey\nthe wishes of their kind friend, some to follow their own amusement. I\nam happy to say that the greater number decided to run no risk of\noffending her, so that Jack began to fear that he could hardly collect\nenough of companions to enable him to play at cricket.\n\n\u201cI wonder at you all!\u201d he cried. \u201cIt\u2019s the manliest game going, and the\nonly one fit for Englishmen! You\u2019ll join us, Joe Ashton, I know that you\nwill\u2014there\u2019s nobody bowls like you!\u201d\n\nAgain the weak boy doubted and hesitated, afraid to do wrong, but\nwithout courage to do right. Much rather would he have joined his\ncompanions now playing at \u201chunt the ring;\u201d but the hand of Jack was upon\nhis shoulder; Tom was laughing at his scruples; both urging him to join\nthem; and the struggle ended with him as it usually ended\u2014he could not\nwithstand the persuasion of others.\n\nJoseph was very successful in his bowling; and in the pleasure and\nexcitement of the game thought little of the strawberry bed. As the game\nproceeded his position in it was changed; he was now one of those who\nstood to catch the ball, and was eagerly watching the success of his\nside, ready, like a greyhound, to bound forward if required, when a\nstrong blow from Jack Higgins, who then happened to be batsman, sent the\nball right into the midst of the strawberries! Instantly the young\nplayer rushed after it: on his quickness the whole game might hang, for\nthe bowler was taking his run. As he reached the ball Joseph\u2019s foot\ntripped, and down he fell, at the very moment when Mrs. Graham and a\nparty of ladies, having come from the house to witness the sports, stood\nby the edge of the parterre!\n\n\u201cI hope that you have not hurt yourself!\u201d said one of the ladies, as\nJoseph, flushed and panting, scrambled to his feet.\n\n\u201cHe _has_ hurt himself,\u201d replied Mrs. Graham\u2019s displeased voice. Joseph\ndid not venture to lift up his eyes to her face. \u201cHe who has disregarded\nmy wishes, and, at the very time when he was experiencing my kindness,\nwilfully disobeyed my command, has little right to expect more\nindulgence at my hand. I came prepared with another invitation to the\nyoung friends who have visited me to-day. I intended to ask them all to\nreturn here again when the summer sun shall have ripened those\nstrawberries, when they shall be welcome to gather them for themselves;\nbut as for Joseph, he has already had more than his share in the\nblossoms which he has destroyed, which never can bear any fruit\u2014there is\nno use in his coming to look on while others enjoy what might have been\nhis, if he could have learned the duty of obedience!\u201d\n\nThen was the time for Jack and Tom to have stepped forward and honestly\nowned their share in the fault. But I appeal to those who, like Joseph,\nhave weakly yielded to the persuasions of those who tempted them to do\nwrong, whether the companions who have led them into trouble are the\nones to try to help them out of it. The Higgins both were silent, and\nfor this time escaped the punishment which is certain, sooner or later,\nto overtake those who persevere in a course of rebellion. Joseph\u2019s heart\nswelled, a choking feeling was in his throat: to be thus disgraced\nbefore all, and debarred from a treat which he would so greatly have\nenjoyed, and to know that the punishment was just, turned all the\npleasure of the day into bitterness.\n\nMrs. Graham saw his look of distress, and her gentle heart pitied the\nboy, though she felt too strongly how important the lesson might be to\nhim through the whole course of his future life, to relax in her firm\nresolve. She followed him, however, as he sadly walked away to a more\nretired part of the garden. She laid her hand on his arm: he started,\nfor he had not heard her noiseless step as she approached.\n\n\u201cYou are very sorry for what has happened, Joseph\u2014I see that you are;\nyou are very sorry to have displeased a friend and forfeited a\npleasure.\u201d\n\nJoseph looked fixedly on the ground, while his eyes gradually filled\nwith tears. \u201cThey made me do it!\u201d at last he muttered, in a low tone.\nWithout appearing to notice the interruption, the lady proceeded: \u201cI\nshould have willingly overlooked your fault, had it been the first\nbrought under my observation; but it is not long since I had reason to\nbelieve you guilty of a much more serious offence. You have now only\ndisobeyed an earthly friend\u2014you had then broken the solemn law of your\nGod. You have deprived yourself now of a little pleasure; but who can\nsay how great will be the loss, both in this world and in the next, of\nhim who wilfully profanes the holy Sabbath of the Lord, the maker of\nheaven and earth!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: MRS. GRAHAM AND JOSEPH.]\n\n\u201cThey made me do it!\u201d again murmured the boy.\n\n\u201cHeaven forgive them for tempting a weak brother; but their fault does\nnot justify you. What would you say of the soldier who could be\npersuaded to go over to the side of the enemy? or the subject who, from\nfear of a laugh or a jest, could desert the cause of his king? Ask\nstrength from the Lord to stand firm in the right, though you alone\nshould defend it: fear nothing but the displeasure of a holy God. Keep\nhis Sabbaths unbroken, and rest assured that you shall find them yield\nrich fruits of peace and of joy. Oh, _follow not the multitude to do\nevil. When sinners entice, consent thou not._ They may laugh down your\ndoubts and your scruples now, but they cannot excuse your sin, nor save\nyou from its punishment in the terrible day of judgment.\u201d\n\n When sinners entice,\n And from thee would wrest\n That gem beyond price,\n The day God hath blest.\n The day that was given\n Our souls to prepare\n For the sabbath of heaven\u2014\n Oh, shun thou the snare!\n\n When fools treat with scorn\n What God hath approved,\n Their laugh must be borne,\n Thy faith be unmoved.\n As arrows fall lightly\n On mail-covered breast,\n The soul that acts rightly\n Need ne\u2019er fear the jest.\n\n Oh! follow not thou\n The crowd to do ill;\n What many allow\n May be perilous still.\n The sins of another\n Excuse not thine own;\n The fall of a brother\n Is warning alone.\n\n Though hand joined in hand,\n The Scriptures will tell,\n How on a whole land\n Dread punishment fell;\u2014\n The flames of Gomorrah,\n The waves of the Flood,\n Bereaved Egypt\u2019s sorrow,\n And Palestine\u2019s blood!\n\n \u201cWhen sinners entice,\n Consent not, my son;\u201d\n Paths many has vice\u2014\n Salvation but _one_:\n The Christian\u2019s allegiance\n By faith he must prove\u2014\n Faith working obedience\u2014\n The obedience of love!\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE.\n\n\n \u201cThe hope of the righteous shall be gladness.\u201d\u2014PROV. x. 28.\n\n\n\u201cIt will rain, I tell you!\u2014it will rain!\u201d cried Priscilla; \u201cit always\ndoes when one wishes it to be fine! So you need not put on your bonnet,\nLucy; there will be no boating for us to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not raining one drop\u2014the grass is quite dry,\u201d replied Lucy,\nrunning for the twentieth time to the door.\n\n\u201cBut the sea-weed that hangs there is quite soft and damp, and that is a\nsure sign of rain. Only see these black, heavy clouds!\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly see that dear little bit of bright blue between them! I think,\nPriscilla, that you are always looking out for clouds. I never notice\nthem at all till the rain begins to drop!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is because you are a thoughtless, foolish little thing!\u201d observed\nher sister, with a kind of scornful pity.\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m glad that I\u2019m not so wise as you; I\u2019d rather be merry than\nwise,\u201d was the laughing Lucy\u2019s reply.\n\nThis time, however, it appeared that the elder sister was the mistaken\none. The patch of blue in the sky, to Lucy\u2019s delight, became larger and\nlarger; the sun shone out cheerfully; and, no longer afraid of the\nweather, both girls set out on their walk towards Ryde. They were there\nto meet their uncle, a boatman, who had promised them a row over the\nwater to Portsmouth, where he was to show them the docks and feast them\nwith cakes; and as the girls had never been to England before, having\nbeen both born and brought up in the Isle of Wight, they had both looked\nforward to this expedition for a very long time, though with different\nfeelings, according to their different dispositions. Lucy was all\ndelight at the thought of the pleasure\u2014Priscilla all fear lest anything\nshould occur to prevent their being able to enjoy it.\n\nThey made their way over the fields\u2014the one mirthful, the other grave.\nThey shortened part of the distance by passing along a lane; and a\nlovely lane it was, all adorned with wild-flowers.\n\n\u201cI like this path so much!\u201d cried the happy little Lucy. \u201cSuch beautiful\nplants grow in the hedges, that, were I not in a very great hurry to get\non, I should gather a splendid nosegay on the way!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: LUCY AND PRISCILLA.]\n\n\u201cI do not like this path at all,\u201d replied her elder sister; \u201cit is so\nnarrow, one is caught every minute by the thorns.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, Priscilla! you are always looking out for thorns! I never think of\nthem till I find myself caught.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is because you are a silly, giddy child!\u201d was Priscilla\u2019s\ncontemptuous reply.\n\nIt will be easily seen, from this short conversation, that however wise\nPriscilla might be in the eyes of other people, or in her own, she was\nnot the most pleasant companion in the world. She was considered a very\nsensible girl, one possessing reflection beyond her years; and in some\nrespects she deserved the character. She was wise in keeping clear of\nevil society; she was wise in performing her daily duties, and in not\nexpecting too much from the world: but she was _not_ wise in ever\ncasting a shade of gloom over what Providence intended to be bright; she\nwas _not_ wise in ever meeting misfortune half-way\u2014in always looking at\nthe dark side of every event, and seeming as though she thought it\nalmost a sin to be happy! In truth, in these matters, by taking the\nopposite extreme, Priscilla was just as foolish as her sister. The one,\neager after pleasure, often met with disappointment: the other, fearing\ndisappointment, scarce knew pleasure at all.\n\nThere was the same difference between them on the subject of religion,\nin which both had been carefully instructed. Lucy was too easily carried\naway by amusement: with a warm heart, but a giddy and thoughtless\nspirit, she too often, alas! neglected the _one thing needful_ for the\npassing diversion of the hour. Priscilla never forgot her Bible reading\nor her prayer; but both were too often a mere matter of form. She would\nnot for any temptation have worked, bought or sold, on the Sabbath; but\nshe never considered it a delight. Priscilla quite put aside the\ncommandment in the Bible, _Rejoice evermore; and again I say unto you,\nRejoice_; while her sister forgot, in her heedless mirth, that it is\nalso written, _Rejoice with trembling_. The one girl knew too little of\n_the fear of the Lord_; the other was a stranger to his _love_.\n\nAt length the sisters reached the shore, and saw before them the\nsparkling waves of the sea. On the waters large men-of-war were lying at\nanchor; little boats were floating on the sunny tide; some moving on\nsteadily, as their line of oars rose and fell; others speeding along\nwith graceful motion, like butterflies spreading their silver wings.\nAmongst the many boats which were plying here and there, and those which\nwere fastened to the pier, Priscilla and Lucy vainly searched for the\n_Nautilus_, which was that which belonged to their uncle. As with\nanxious looks they proceeded along the shore, exclamations of impatience\nbursting from their lips, they were approached by an old friend of their\nuncle\u2019s, whom they had seen several times before.\n\n\u201cOn the look-out, eh?\u201d said the old sailor, as he came towards them.\n\u201cYou\u2019ll not hail the _Nautilus_ to-day. Your uncle was engaged this\nmorning by a gentleman to carry him round to the Undercliff in his boat;\nand I suspect that they\u2019ll have ugly weather,\u201d he added, turning his\nweather-beaten face towards the sea, \u201cso he asked me to wait for you\nhere, and tell you why he could not give you a row over the water; and,\nas he thought as how you might be a little disappointed, he sends you a\nshilling a-piece to make all straight.\u201d\n\nTears burst from the eyes of little Lucy: she turned aside that the\nsailor might not see them. Delighted as she ever was at the prospect of\npleasure, she never could bear to lose it; and every little\ndisappointment appeared to her as a real and serious misfortune.\nPriscilla showed less vexation at losing her excursion, though she took\nthe shilling with a discontented air; and her first words, as she turned\nto walk back with her sister, were as unjust as they were ungrateful to\nthat good Providence that gives us so much even upon earth to enjoy.\n\n\u201cI knew that it would be so! it always happens thus! If one expects a\nlittle pleasure, disappointment is sure to come!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow strange and unkind in my uncle!\u201d said Lucy, still half crying; \u201cand\nto think that these stupid shillings could make up for the loss of such\na delightful treat!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe had better walk faster,\u201d observed her prudent sister; \u201cyour blue bit\nof sky is quite disappearing now.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd these thorns are very annoying,\u201d Lucy added, fretfully, as, trying\ntoo hastily to free herself from a bramble, she tore a large hole in her\ndress.\n\n\u201cLife seems all full of clouds and of thorns,\u201d observed Priscilla, in\nthe tone of one who is conscious of uttering a very wise saying; \u201cand to\nhope to find it anything else is folly only fit for a very little child.\nThere!\u2014was not that a drop of rain? Yes; another and another, and so\nlarge! That great cloud is going to burst just over our heads, and, as\nalways happens, them is no place near where we could take shelter from a\nstorm.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you are wrong there for once! there is Bertha Fielding\u2019s cottage;\nit is a little, a very little out of our way, and I am sure that the\ngood woman will make us welcome.\u201d\n\nThither ran the two little girls in the rain, which was now falling\nthick and fast. A sudden flash of lightning quickened their steps, till,\nheated and breathless, they slackened their pace as they approached the\nneat little cot. There was the voice of a woman singing within\u2014a feeble,\ntrembling voice, in which little melody was left; but its tones sounded\nearnest, as if coming from the heart, and from a heart that was cheerful\nand happy,\u2014\n\n \u201cContent with this, I ask no more,\n But to Thy care the rest resign;\n Sick or in health, or rich or poor,\n All shall be well if Thou art mine!\u201d\n\nThe girls\u2019 hasty tap silenced the hymn, and a kind voice bade them come\nin. The inside of the cottage was clean and neat, but its appearance\nbespoke great poverty. The clock, which had once merrily ticked on the\nwhite-washed wall, was gone from its place; there was no arm-chair by\nthe side of the fire; and many a treasured family piece of old china had\ndisappeared from the wooden shelf. A pale, sickly-looking woman lay upon\nthe bed, which was now almost the sole furniture of the little abode.\nHer countenance appeared worn with pain and with want; yet it still bore\na peaceful, hopeful expression.\n\n\u201cMay we wait here a little, till the shower is over?\u201d said Priscilla, as\nshe entered the cottage.\n\n\u201cMost heartily welcome,\u201d replied Bertha. \u201cI was rather inclined just now\nto feel sorry at the rain falling, as I suffer a good deal from the\ndamp; but I was wrong, for it has brought me two visitors to-day, and\nthat is a real pleasure in this lonely place.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid that you are very poorly,\u201d said Lucy, approaching her\nkindly.\n\n\u201cI am quite laid up at present with rheumatism, my dear, and have been\nso for the last six weeks. I can scarcely rise from my bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a misery to have to lie so long on your bed!\u201d cried Priscilla, who\nhad known something of illness.\n\n\u201cWhat a mercy to have a good bed to lie on!\u201d replied the sufferer, with\na patient smile.\n\n\u201cBut you will recover before long, and be able to work again,\u201d said\nLucy, with kind interest in her looks.\n\n\u201cI hope so, if it please God,\u201d answered Bertha.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried Priscilla, \u201cI daresay that you have been hoping and hoping\nall the time that you have been ill.\u201d\n\n\u201cI always cherish hope, my dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are disappointed every day of your life.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no!\u201d cried the sick woman, cheerfully; \u201cmy hope is firm and sure,\nand can never be disappointed.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is impossible,\u201d said Priscilla.\n\n\u201cOh, tell me your secret!\u201d cried Lucy, with animation. \u201cI always am\nhoping too, but I so often find that I never can have what I hope for.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy secret is a very simple one,\u201d replied Bertha. \u201cI ask the Lord, for\nthe sake of His blessed Son, to give me all that is good for me; and I\nhope\u2014I more than _hope_\u2014I feel _certain_\u2014that the Lord hears and will\ngrant my prayer.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet you are sent poverty and pain,\u201d said Priscilla.\n\n\u201cI firmly believe that both poverty and pain will work together for my\ngood, and that I shall suffer from neither of them one moment longer\nthan the all-wise Father knows to be best for His child.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet you must be very miserable now,\u201d said Priscilla, glancing round on\nthe almost comfortless abode, and then at its suffering inmate.\n\n\u201cMiserable! oh no; that is no word for a Christian! When I think of my\ndeserts, and then of all that is left me, I should think it a _sin_ to\nbe miserable.\u201d\n\n\u201cA sin!\u201d repeated Priscilla, in surprise; \u201cand what have you to make you\nanything else?\u201d\n\n\u201cSome comforts even of this earth. I have never yet gone one day quite\nwithout food; God has till now provided me with daily bread. I have a\nroof over my head, and some kind friends, and one friend\u201d\u2014here she laid\nher hand on a Bible\u2014\u201cthat casts sunshine over the darkest trial. My\nhearing and my eyesight are spared to me\u2014how great a blessing is this!\nThen I have sweet thoughts to cheer me as I lie here in pain. I trust\nthat, through my Saviour, my sins have been forgiven. Is that no cause\nfor happiness? I trust that every hour brings me nearer to a home where\nthere shall be no more sorrow, or crying, or pain. Is that no cause for\nhappiness? I believe that my gracious God is with me even here, to\nsupport my courage and keep me from falling. Is that no cause for\nhappiness? Oh, well may I count up my mercies! well may I thank Him who\nbestowed them all!\u2014the Rock of my strength and my salvation!\u201d Tears\nfilled her eyes as she spoke, but not tears of sorrow: _The hope of the\nrighteous shall be gladness._\n\nPriscilla sighed. When she contrasted her lot with that of this poor\nwoman\u2014her peevish discontent, her cold, heartless service, with Bertha\u2019s\nloving, grateful, happy spirit\u2014she felt abashed and humbled in her own\neyes.\n\n\u201cThe rain is over,\u201d she said, turning to the door. \u201cI am sure that we\nare much obliged to you, Bertha; and I shall often think over what you\nhave said.\u201d\n\nLucy glided to her sister, and whispered a few words to her, at the same\ntime pressing something into her hand. \u201cYou speak for me,\u201d was all that\ncould be overheard. Priscilla\u2019s smile was brighter than usual.\n\n\u201cWe happen to have been given a little money,\u201d she said, going up to\nBertha with Lucy; \u201cwe have no real wants ourselves, and we should be\nglad, very glad, if you would spend it in getting any little comfort for\nyourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay the Almighty bless you for your kindness, dear children!\u201d cried\nBertha, fervently clasping her hands. \u201cIt is He who has sent you here\nto-day. He knew that I had not a crust left in my cottage\u2014that I had no\nearthly means of procuring one. He has answered my prayer. I hoped in\nHim, and He has not disappointed my hope. But I cannot deprive you of\nboth shillings,\u201d she added; \u201cit is too much\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no!\u201d exclaimed Priscilla; \u201cwe will never touch that money again!\u201d\n\n\u201cPrissy,\u201d said Lucy gaily to her sister, as they hastened along the wet\npath, not complaining when their shoes were fixed in the mire, and\nshowers of moisture dropped on them from the trees, \u201cI am almost glad\nnow that we were disappointed of our treat; I think that it was a good\nthing after all.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; and I am glad that the shower came, though we dreaded it so much.\u201d\n\n\u201cI daresay that if we looked at things as poor Bertha looks, we should\nfind a great deal to make us glad.\u201d\n\n\u201cGlad, and thankful besides,\u201d said Priscilla.\n\n\u201cAh, you are thinking less of the thorns and the clouds!\u201d\n\n\u201cI see that earthly joys and earthly sorrows are mixed, like the lovely\nwild-flowers with the brambles; so that we should not care too much for\nthe one, nor fret too much at the other. And as, when dark clouds roll\nover the sky, we yet know that the blue heaven is always beyond, we may\nlook through all troubles with a sure glad hope.\u201d\n\n\u201c_And the hope of the righteous shall be gladness_,\u201d said Lucy.\n\n Oh! who should be joyful and glad,\n If not those whom the Saviour has loved,\n Who, living or dying, their happiness rest\n On the Rock which can never be moved?\n What have we, as sinners, deserved?\n What hath God in His graciousness given?\n Let us love Him and serve Him, rejoicing below,\n As we hope to do always in heaven.\n\n Can myriads of glittering lights\n E\u2019er equal the brightness of day?\n Or all that the world holds of pleasure and wealth\n The joys of religion outweigh?\n What have we, as sinners, deserved?\n What hath God in His graciousness given?\n Let us love Him and serve Him, rejoicing below,\n As we hope to do always in heaven.\n\n Shall we murmur at pains or at grief,\n If our God be our Father and Friend?\n Those pains\u2014they can bring us but nearer to Him;\n That grief\u2014oh, how soon it will end!\n What have we, as sinners, deserved?\n What hath God in His graciousness given?\n Let us love Him and serve Him, rejoicing below,\n As we hope to do always in heaven.\n\n[Illustration: [lonely sheep]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n THE GREAT PLAGUE.\n\n\n \u201cFools make a mock at sin.\u201d\u2014PROV. xiv. 9.\n\n\n\u201cWhat a violent storm is raging!\u201d said Thorn the teacher to his\nscholars, as, after having dismissed them at the close of the school\nhours, he found them clustering together in the porch, afraid of\nventuring forth into the pelting rain, pouring down in large, heavy\ndrops, mingled with hail, which danced on the wet, brown pavement. \u201cCome\nback into the room, my children: it is better than standing there in the\ncold. Amuse yourselves as you like until the weather clears up, while I\noccupy myself with reading.\u201d\n\nThe boys gladly availed themselves of the permission, and began to play\ntogether in one part of the room, while the weary teacher sat down in\nanother, rested his pale brow on his hand, and tried, as far as the\nnoise and talking would let him, to forget his fatigue in a book.\n\nHe soon, however, found it impossible not to hear what was passing; his\neye rested, indeed, on the page, but his mind could not take in the\nsense of it. He loved his pupils too well to think that his care of them\nshould end with the hours of study: he looked on the immortal beings\ncommitted to his charge as those for whom he must one day render an\naccount to his God and theirs.\n\n\u201cNo, we\u2019re all tired of that!\u201d cried the voice of Bat Nayland, as some\nwell-known game was proposed. \u201cI know something that will give us a deal\nmore fun: let\u2019s play at the highwayman and the judge!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that? what\u2019s that?\u201d cried a dozen young voices.\n\n\u201cOh! it\u2019s what I saw at the penny theatre, about a clever thief robbing\na judge: only think\u2014robbing a judge!\u201d The last words were repeated\naround the room in various tones of amusement and surprise.\n\n\u201cOh! you shall know all about it: but first we must arrange the parts.\nYou, Pat, shall be the thief, and I will be the judge\u2014no, you shall be\nthe judge and I the thief!\u201d He was interrupted by a burst of laughter.\n\n\u201cBe quiet, will you?\u2014who\u2019ll be the policeman?\u201d\n\n\u201cI! I!\u201d cried several of the children, eager to join in the proposed\nplay.\n\n\u201cNow, Sam, you shall be the fat landlady,\u201d\u2014there was another roar of\nmerriment, louder than before;\u2014\u201cfor you must know that the thief is to\nget drunk; that\u2019s how he is to be taken by the policeman; and he\nstaggers here and there,\u201d\u2014Bat began to imitate the unsteady movements of\nan intoxicated man, amid the renewed mirth of the children;\u2014\u201cand when\nthey seize him he calls out a great oath\u2014you shall hear it all just as I\nheard it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope not,\u201d said Thorn, very quietly, raising his eyes from his book.\nThe boys were quiet in a moment: they had almost forgotten the presence\nof their teacher.\n\n\u201cWhy, sir, do you think that there is any harm?\u201d said Bat Nayland: \u201cit\ndoes not make us thieves to have a little fun about them.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt lessens your horror for their crime; and remember the words in the\nBible, _Fools make a mock at sin_. Can you imagine any true child of God\nlaughing at theft, drunkenness, and swearing?\u201d\n\nThere was profound silence in the room.\n\n\u201cThis is one cause, I believe, why penny theatres are one of the most\nfruitful sources of vice and ruin to those who attend them. Wickedness,\ninstead of appearing hateful as it does in God\u2019s Word, is made amusing,\nand even sometimes attractive; and those who willingly place themselves\nin the way of being corrupted by such sights, only mock the Holy One\nwhen they pray, _Lead us not into temptation_.\n\n[Illustration: THE TEACHER\u2019S STORY.]\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d continued the teacher in a more cheerful tone, \u201cif I have stopped\nyour amusement in one way, it is but fair that I should contribute to it\nin another. I hear the rain still pattering without\u2014what would you say\nto my telling you a story?\u201d\n\n\u201cA story! a story!\u201d repeated the scholars, forming in a little circle\naround their teacher; for where are the children to be found upon earth\non whom that word does not act like a spell!\n\n\u201cIt is now long, long ago,\u201d commenced Thorn, \u201cnearly two hundred years,\nsince the fearful plague raged in London. Nothing which we have\nwitnessed in these happier days can give an idea of the horrors of that\ntime. It is said that nearly seventy thousand people perished of this\nawful malady\u2014some authors make the number even ninety thousand! The\nnearest relatives were afraid of each other. When an unfortunate being\nshowed symptoms that the disease had seized him\u2014the swelling under the\narms, the pain in the throat, the black spots, which were signs of the\nplague\u2014his very servants fled from him in terror; and unless some one\nwas found to help the sufferer from love even stronger than fear of\ndeath, he was left to perish alone; for the plague was fearfully\ninfectious. When a door was marked with a cross, the sign that the\nfearful scourge had entered the house, it was shunned by all but the\ndriver of the dead-cart\u2014that gloomy conveyance which moved slowly\nthrough the silent streets to carry away the bodies of those who had\nsunk beneath the terrible disease!\u201d\n\n\u201cWas London ever in such a horrible state?\u201d cried Bat Nayland; \u201cit must\nhave been a thousand times worse than the cholera!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE PLAGUE IN LONDON.]\n\n\u201cWhat I have told you about it I believe to be strictly true; I leave\nyou all, however, to judge whether what I am about to relate can be so.\n\n\u201cIn a small house, at the time when the plague was raging, dwelt a widow\nwith five young children. She loved them with the fondest, truest love:\nthey were all that were left her in the world. From the first appearance\nof the plague in London her heart had been full of painful anxiety\u2014far\nless for herself than for them. Determined to take every human\nprecaution to guard her little ones from danger, she forbade them to\nquit the house, which she only left herself in order to procure food,\nholding a handkerchief steeped in vinegar before her face, as far as\npossible to keep out infection. Her anxiety became yet more distressing\nwhen she saw one morning on the door of the very opposite house the\nfatal sign marked, and below it chalked the heart-touching words, \u2018Lord\nhave mercy upon us!\u2019\n\n\u201cThat day the mother was compelled to go out for bread. She left her\nhome with a very heavy heart, first looking earnestly upon all and each\nof her children, to see if they yet appeared healthy and well, repeating\nher command that none should stir out, and inwardly breathing a prayer\nthat the Almighty would preserve them during her absence.\n\n\u201cAs she returned with hurried steps towards her home, shuddering at the\nrecollection of the sights of horror which she had seen in the course of\nher walk, with terror she observed her eldest son _playing upon the very\nthreshold of the infected house_, and trying to imitate with a piece of\nchalk the dreadful signs upon the door!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe little idiot!\u201d\u2014\u201cHe must have been without his senses!\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat did\nthe poor mother do?\u201d were the exclamations which burst from Thorn\u2019s\nlisteners.\n\n\u201cShe could not speak, in the transport of her anger and grief: she\nseized him by the arm, and dragged him into her own house, with feelings\nwhich only a mother can understand. She found her four other children\nassembled in her little parlour, amusing themselves by\u2014would you believe\nit?\u2014playing at _catching the plague_!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no, no!\u201d cried the children at once. \u201cYou told us that we should\njudge whether the story were true, and we are sure that this cannot be\ntrue!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why not?\u201d inquired the teacher.\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d answered Bat, replying for the rest, \u201cthe plague was too\nhorrible a thing to make a joke of! Just at a time when their mother was\nso anxious, when thousands were suffering so much around them\u2014no, no!\nthat would have been too bad; they could never have made game of the\nplague!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet what were my pupils doing ten minutes ago but making game of a\nfar worse disease than the plague\u2014the fatal disease of sin? Its spots\nare blacker, the pain it gives more terrible: often has it caused the\ndeath of the body, and, except where repented of and forsaken, the\ndeath, the endless death of the soul! Oh, my children! it may be your\nlot, as it was that mother\u2019s, to be _obliged_ to go out and meet the\ndanger, for the Almighty may have seen good to place you in situations\nof great temptation; but if so, take every means of guarding your own\nhearts, by faith, watchfulness, and prayer. But oh, never wilfully throw\nyourselves into temptation\u2014_do not play upon the threshold of the\ninfected house_\u2014do not trifle with the danger which it is possible to\navoid: and when inclined to think lightly or speak lightly of that which\nbrought ruin and death into the world, remember that _fools make a mock\nat sin_, but that to free us from its terrible disease, and the fatal\nconsequences which it brings, cost the Eternal Son of the Most High\ntears, blood, and even life itself!\u201d\n\n Fools make a mock at sin; but oh,\n God\u2019s wiser children do not so:\n They know too well the strife with sin,\n How hard the battle is to win;\n They laugh not at the wound within,\n For they its danger know.\n Oh, guide thy mirth by wisdom\u2019s rules,\n For sorrow ends the laugh of fools!\n\n Fools make a mock at sin; but oh,\n Lost, guilty spirits do not so:\n They know too well the price it cost;\n They know through it that heaven was lost.\n No drowning seaman, tempest-tost,\n Jests as he sinks below!\n Oh, guide thy mirth by wisdom\u2019s rules,\n For sorrow ends the laugh of fools!\n\n Fools make a mock at sin; but oh,\n God\u2019s holy angels do not so:\n For they upon the Cross have gazed,\u2014\n The Cross which sin, _our_ sin, had raised,\u2014\n And viewed all wondering and amazed,\n A Saviour\u2019s life-blood flow!\n Then write these words thy heart within,\u2014\n Fools, and fools only, mock at sin!\n\n[Illustration: [man on bridge]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n THE GREEN VELVET DRESS.\n\n\n \u201cBetter is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred\n therewith.\u201d\u2014PROV. xv. 17.\n\n\n\u201cWrap your cloak tight round you, my lass; for the wind\u2019s bitter cold\nthis morning: and here\u2014see\u2014you wouldn\u2019t be the worse of my bit of a\nshawl under it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh but, mother, remember your rheumatics.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m a\u2019most right again, Jenny, and I ben\u2019t out in the cold,\u201d said the\npoor woman, stirring the few glowing embers which scarcely gave even the\nappearance of a fire.\n\n\u201cAnd come back soon again, Jenny dear,\u201d cried a pale, bare-footed little\nboy, running from the corner; \u201cI hope the grand lady won\u2019t keep you\nlong.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must seek for early violets in the hedges for you, Tommy.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t want the violets, I want you back;\u201d and the little thin\narms were thrown round her neck, and the child\u2019s lips pressed to her\ncheek.\n\n\u201cO Tommy! I wish I were a grand lady!\u2014I wish I had plenty of money!\nShouldn\u2019t you have meat enough, and all kinds of food, to make you\nstrong and hearty again!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd new shoes!\u201d suggested the child.\n\n\u201cAnd a blazing fire, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHush, my children!\u201d said the mother gently, \u201cand don\u2019t let your\nthoughts go running after what God Almighty has not seen good to give\nus. We\u2019ve a-many blessings in this little cot of ours, and I always say\nthat the three prime ones, sunshine for the eyes, hope for the heart,\nand love in the home, are as free to the poor as to the rich.\u201d\n\nThe sharp, cutting cold of a March wind, which drove the icy sleet\nagainst her face, did not tend to make little Jenny share her mother\u2019s\nspirit of contentment. She hastened up the long hill, holding her bonnet\nto keep it on, and wishing that she had some better protection against\nthe blast than her thin cloak or her mother\u2019s thread-bare shawl. She was\nto call at the house of a milliner, for whom she was accustomed to run\nerrands and to do little pieces of plain work, in order to carry a\nparcel from her to a lady who lived at the Hall about three miles\ndistant.\n\n[Illustration: JENNY IN THE STORM.]\n\nJenny arrived at the milliner\u2019s, her cheeks glowing with exercise and\nthe cold.\n\n\u201cTake a seat by the fire, and warm yourself, Jenny; I\u2019ve just a stitch\nmore to put to this trimming, and the dress will be ready for you to\ntake to Lady Grange in two minutes.\u201d\n\nSo Jenny sat down and looked on with admiring eyes, as the finishing\ntouch was given to a dress which, to her, appeared the very perfection\nof beauty and splendour.\n\n\u201cIt must be a pleasure,\u201d thought the girl, \u201ceven to touch that lovely\nsoft green velvet; and what must it be to wear it! I could not fancy any\none\u2019s ever feeling unhappy in such a dress!\u201d\n\nIt was a very foolish thought certainly; but I have known people older\nthan Jenny Green who have made reflections just as foolish. Those who\nsuffer from the pressure of poverty are apt to forget that there are\nother and worse evils in the world; and that just as heavy a heart may,\nand often does, beat under a robe of velvet as beneath a thread-bare\ncloak.\n\nThe dress was finished, folded, wrapped up in linen, and confided to the\ngirl, with many an injunction to carry it carefully, and not to loiter\non the way; injunctions which Jenny conscientiously obeyed, being duly\nimpressed with the importance of her errand, and the amount of\nconfidence reposed in her. The size of her parcel occasioned her some\ninconvenience: she had no longer a hand free to hold on her bonnet,\nwhich, blown back on her shoulders, only hung by its faded ribands,\nwhile the gale made sad untidy work with her hair. Jenny\u2019s shoes were\nvery old, and the road steep and stony\u2014she became both foot-sore and\ntired; but her worst trouble was the uneasy, discontented thoughts,\nwhich seemed to flow into her bosom from the parcel which she carried.\n\n[Illustration: THE MESSAGE.]\n\n\u201cHow nice and warm and comfortable it feels! I don\u2019t believe that the\nlady who will wear it ever knows what it is to be hungry or cold. She is\nnever tired, for she has a fine coach to ride in\u2014oh! how grand it must\nbe to ride in a coach! And then to dress like a queen, and feast on good\nthings every day! How very, very happy she must be! I wish that I were a\nlady, that I do! I\u2019d have a velvet dress of a different colour for every\nday in the week; and dear Tommy should have a white pony to ride on; and\nmother, oh! darling mother! should have everything nice that I could\nthink of\u2014she should never have time to wish for anything: how happy we\nshould all be together! But there\u2019s no use thinking about it,\u201d added\nJenny sadly, as on the crest of the hill a sudden gust of wind almost\ncarried her off her feet; \u201cI shall never be rich, nor a lady; I shall\nhave to work and to want all my life through.\u201d\n\nThe road now led down into the valley, where the way was comparatively\nsheltered. Jenny felt this to be a pleasant change, though the view was\nnot so grand or extensive as it appeared from the higher ground. She was\nnot, however, enough of a philosopher to remark, even had she known\nenough of the world to perceive, that in life, as in nature, some of the\nsharpest blasts are felt by those who _stand on the top of the hill_.\n\nJenny arrived at length at the grand outer gate, and passed with a timid\nstep through the park, where the tall trees yet stretched leafless\nbranches, though the tiny wild-flowers at their feet were already\nopening their blossoms to the spring. There was a beautiful garden in\nfront of the house; and along its smooth gravel walks, wrapped up in\nvelvet and furs, sauntered the lady who was mistress of the place.\n\nShe stopped to speak to the little messenger. Her manner was gracious\nand gentle; but Jenny could not help noticing how mournful was its tone;\nand when she ventured to raise her eyes to the face of the lady, she saw\non it an expression of melancholy and care, which raised a feeling of\npity as well as of surprise. Is it upon the brow of the poor alone that\nwe see the deep lines of sorrow? is it the cheek of the poor alone that\nis furrowed by tears? Are the merriest faces those that look from\ncarriage windows? can wealth shut out sorrow, sickness, bereavement,\ndisunion, or death?\n\nLady Grange noticed the tired looks of Jenny, and kindly ordered the\nmaid whom she had summoned to receive the dress, to take the girl to the\nkitchen, that she might have a little rest and refreshment. As Jenny,\nafter dropping a courtesy, turned to follow the servant, her attention\nwas arrested by the sudden clatter of horses\u2019 feet; and three young men,\nlaughing and racing each other up the slope, dashed along to the\nentrance of the Hall, the hoofs tearing up the well-rolled gravel, and\nthe loud merry voices strangely breaking the peaceful silence which had\nprevailed a few minutes before. Two of the horsemen reined up at a\nlittle distance from the lady; while the third, who was mounted on a\nsplendid white horse, approached the spot where she stood.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d said he, stroking the neck of his steed, which champed its bit\nand pawed on the ground, as if impatient to bound onward again; \u201cmother,\nI\u2019ve asked Jones and Wildrake to stop dinner to-day.\u201d\n\nJenny happened to glance at Lady Grange. There was an anxious frown on\nthe gentle face, a flush on the lately pale cheek, which gave an\nimpression of keen suffering not unmixed with anger. What Lady Grange\nreplied to her son, or whether she replied at all, Jenny did not know;\nfor the lady\u2019s-maid led her towards the kitchen.\n\nThe delicious, savoury odour of that place; the ranges of tin pans on\nthe shelves glittering like silver; the rows of innumerable plates and\ndishes\u2014above all, the enormous joint, slowly revolving before a fire\nlarger than any that Jenny had ever dreamed of, for the moment put\neverything out of her head but the thought that it must be delightful to\nbe very rich! \u201cHow proud one would be, too, to have so many servants,\nsome of them looking themselves so very grand!\u201d thought Jenny, as she\nsaw various members of the household, some engaged in different\noccupations, some appearing as though they had nothing to do but to\nloiter about and gossip. An aged woman, in black bonnet and shawl, was\nseated at the long deal table on which the stout cook was rolling out\nsome tempting-looking pastry. She, as Jenny soon found from the\nconversation going on around her, was Mrs. Dale, a nurse who had\nattended Lady Grange in her childhood, and who had now come from some\ndistance on a visit to that lady, whom she had not seen since her\nmarriage.\n\n\u201cWell, only think!\u201d cried the lady\u2019s-maid who had conducted Jenny into\nthe kitchen; \u201conly think! here\u2019s Master Philip has brought down those\ntwo companions of his whom missus cannot abide the sight of; and they\u2019re\nto stay dinner, and sleep here too, I\u2019ll warrant you! I wonder what\nmaster will say to it when he comes home.\u201d\n\n\u201cMighty little peace there\u2019ll be in the house,\u201d observed the cook.\n\n\u201cOh! as for peace, no one looks for it in this place!\u201d observed the\nbutler, who, with his hands behind him, was warming himself at the fire.\n\u201cIf you\u2019d heard all I\u2019ve heard, and seen all I\u2019ve seen!\u201d and he shook\nhis head with an air of much meaning.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid my poor lady has not much comfort in her son?\u201d said the\nnurse, in a tone of inquiry.\n\n\u201cComfort! well, I can only say that high tempers and high words\u2014one\npulling one way, and another another\u2014the father trying to bridle the\nson, the son kicking against the authority of the father\u2014debts to be\npaid, bills to be discharged\u2014Sir Gilbert choosing to do neither, yet\nhaving at last to do both\u2014are not my notion of comfort!\u201d\n\n\u201cMaster Philip will break his mother\u2019s heart,\u201d said the\nlady\u2019s-maid;\u2014\u201cyou should see how she cries her eyes out when she\u2019s in\nher own room!\u201d\n\n\u201cMaster Philip\u2019s not such a bad fellow, after all,\u201d remarked the butler;\n\u201che\u2019d have done well enough if he hadn\u2019t had the ill luck to be born\nheir to a large fortune!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! he was spoilt from a baby!\u201d cried the cook.\n\n\u201c\u2019Tisn\u2019t so much that,\u201d said the moralizing butler, seating himself by\nthe fire and leaning back on his chair. Jenny, who, while taking the\ncold meat with which she had been provided, could not avoid hearing what\nwas passing, listened with wonder to the easy, and, as it seemed to her,\nthe insolent manner in which the affairs of the Hall were discussed in\nthe kitchen. She began quite to change her mind as to the advantage of\nkeeping many servants; her simple, honest heart, revolted from the\ntreachery of their gossiping with any stranger about the most private\nconcerns of the family which they served. \u201cI\u2019m glad we\u2019ve our own little\ncot to ourselves,\u201d was the thought which crossed Jenny\u2019s mind; \u201cand that\nwe have not a set of people about us to watch every look, listen to\nevery word, and make our troubles known to all the world!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou see,\u201d continued the butler, addressing himself to Mrs. Dale,\n\u201chere\u2019s the mischief of the thing: Young master found out that he was a\nperson of mighty importance in the house, before he was high enough to\nlook over the table. Wasn\u2019t there fireworks on his birthday, and his\nhealth drunk with three times three at the tenants\u2019 dinner at Christmas!\nI mind how he used to strut about, toss his head, and bully his nurse,\nand smash his toys when he got tired of them; and they never pleased him\nmore than a day! He grew older, too old for a nurse, so mistress had a\ntutor for him. He didn\u2019t like a tutor\u2014why should the heir to the estate\nbe plagued with books and study? There was no peace till the tutor was\nsent off! Master found the boy getting beyond all bounds, with a mighty\nstrong will of his own\u2014sent him to school. He didn\u2019t like school\u2014why\nshould the heir be tormented with schooling? He was brought back after\nthe first half, to be a plague to himself and to every one near him! So\nhe grew up, able to settle to nothing, never finishing anything that he\nbegan\u2014thinking of nothing but how to kill time! He must go to London and\nsee something of life. So to London he went; and the sharpers crowded\naround him as the wasps round a ripe plum. They taught him to gamble and\nspend money\u2014he was apt enough at learning that! The heir to such a\nfortune was a bird worth the plucking; and such gentry as those that he\nhas brought with him to-day will stick by him while there\u2019s one golden\nfeather left! So you see the truth of what I observed,\u201d said the butler\nin conclusion;\u2014\u201cthe worst luck which could have befallen young master\nwas to be born the son of a man of fortune. If he\u2019d had his own bread to\nearn, d\u2019ye see, he\u2019d have studied as a boy, and worked as a man, and\nthought of something besides pleasure; the sharpers would have left him\nalone; and he\u2019d have turned out, may be, a mighty respectable member of\nsociety.\u201d\n\nMrs. Dale nodded her head very thoughtfully. She was experienced in the\nmanagement of children, and in her own nursery had always laboured to\nmaintain strict discipline, but she knew well the disadvantages which\nattend a rich man\u2019s son and heir. She sat for a few moments, turning\nover the matter in her mind, as though the expression of her opinion on\nthe subject could influence the future of the spoilt child of fortune.\nThen, with the decision of one who has maturely considered a difficult\nquestion, and has come to a satisfactory conclusion, she said, \u201cIf I\nwere Lady Grange I know what I\u2019d do. I\u2019d send the boy to my own old\nhome. Her brothers are both men of sense and spirit, who would stand no\nnonsense; and if they didn\u2019t bring the young pickle to his senses, why\nI\u2019m greatly mistaken in the matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer brothers!\u201d exclaimed cook and lady\u2019s-maid in a breath. \u201cWhy,\u201d said\nthe butler, \u201cdon\u2019t you know that neither of them ever enters this\nhouse?\u201d\n\nMrs. Dale lifted up her hands in amazement; \u201cLady Grange quarrelled with\nher own brothers! impossible!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! it\u2019s not mistress, but master. The worry and the distress which she\nhas had no words can tell. Why, I don\u2019t believe that she may so much as\nwrite to her old home!\u201d\n\n\u201cDear! dear!\u201d exclaimed the old nurse, looking really concerned; \u201cand\nthey were such a happy, united family; it was quite a picture to see\nthem! Miss Clara was the darling of the house; her brothers never\nthought that they could make enough of their pet. Sure it must be just a\nheartbreak to her to be on bad terms with them now! How could such a\nshocking thing have happened?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you see,\u201d said the butler, laying the finger of his right hand on\nthe palm of his left, and lowering his voice to a more confidential\nthough not less audible tone, \u201cyou see it was all along of the marriage\nsettlement. Master thought that mistress should have had more of the\nmoney\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThrow the money into the sea!\u201d cried Mrs. Dale indignantly; \u201call the\ngold in the world is not worth the peace, and union, and love of a\nfamily!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said the butler, \u201cone can\u2019t be much in life without seeing how\nvery often money matters break that peace, and union, and love. The\npurse on one side, the heart on the other, depend on\u2019t the purse wins\nthe day.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s some truth in that,\u201d observed the cook. \u201cMy last place was with\nthree old ladies who lived very well and comfortably together, never\nseparated for a day, till some one died and unluckily left them a large\nfortune to spend. Then they began to find out that their wills could\nnever agree. Miss Jemima liked town, Miss Jessie the country, Miss\nMartha was all for the sea-side. One must travel this way for health,\nanother that way for amusement;\u2014before six months were over they were\nall divided, the establishment was broken up; and so I came here.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried Mrs. Dale sadly, \u201cfortune isn\u2019t always sent as a blessing;\nand where a bad use is made of it, it turns in the end to a curse! There\nare folk, I daresay, envying my poor lady, thinking that because she has\na fine house, fine estate, fine carriage, she must be a happy woman. But\nwell I know that\u2014unless she be much changed from what she was as a\nchild\u2014she would gladly give them all up to see her son a steady,\nsensible, God-fearing man, and to be happy with her brothers again!\u201d\n\nJenny having finished her cold meat, now rose and left the house\u2014left it\nwith ideas how changed from those with which she had entered it! The\nfeeling of envy was changed for the feeling of pity; and the young girl,\nas with light step she made her way towards the home where she was sure\nof kind smiles and a pleasant welcome, thought how much happier was her\nown lot than that of the lady of fortune. Even the robe of rich green\nvelvet had lost its attractions for Jenny\u2014was it more beautiful than the\nfresh turf over which she sped with so light a heart? Her back being now\nturned to the wind, Jenny no longer felt its keenness; while a brilliant\nsun was shedding warmth and cheerfulness around. Jenny did not forget to\nlook in the hedges for violets for her little brother. \u201cI daresay,\u201d\nthought she, as she stooped to pluck one from beneath the large green\nleaves, \u201cI daresay that this sweet little flower will give my Tommy as\nmuch pleasure as the rich man\u2019s son ever found in his gilded toys. How\nfoolish was I to wish for wealth! Who knows what effect it might have\nupon me! Mother is right\u2014the best blessings are as free to the poor as\nto the rich\u2014sunshine for the eyes, love in the home, and a good hope of\nheaven for the heart! _Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a\nstalled ox and hatred therewith!_\u201d\n\n Ne\u2019er will I sigh for wealth,\n Such wealth as coffers can hold:\n Contentment, union, and health,\n Are not to be bought for gold\n The costly treasures I prize\n Are treasures of family love\u2014\n A happy home here, and the hope so dear\n Of a happier home above!\n\n Equally shines the beam\n On palace or cottage wall,\n The golden rays they stream\n To brighten and gladden all!\n But, oh! the sunshine I prize\n Is the sunshine of family love\u2014\n A happy home here, and the hope so dear\n Of a happier home above!\n\n The poor no flatterers fear,\n They dread no plunderer\u2019s art:\n When the voice of kindness they hear\n They feel it comes from the heart!\n Oh! ask the blessing from Heaven,\n The blessing of family love\u2014\n A happy home here, and the hope so dear\n Of a happier home above!\n\n[Illustration: [couple sitting by hay bales]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n FALSE FRIENDS.\n\n\n \u201cThorns and snares are in the way of the froward.\u201d\u2014PROV. xxii. 5.\n\n\n\u201cPhilip, your conduct has distressed me exceedingly,\u201d said Lady Grange,\nlaying her hand on the arm of her son, as they entered together the\nelegant apartment which had been fitted up as her boudoir. \u201cYou could\nnot but know my feelings towards those two men, I will not call them\ngentlemen, whose company you have again forced upon me. You must be\naware that your father has shut the doors of this house against them.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy father has shut the door against better men than they are,\u201d said the\nyouth, carelessly; \u201cwitness my own uncles Henry and George.\u201d\n\nThe lip of the lady quivered, the indignant colour rose even to her\ntemples; she attempted to speak, but her voice failed her, and she\nturned aside to hide her emotion.\n\n\u201cWell, mother, I did not mean to vex you,\u201d said Philip, who was rather\nweak in purpose than hardened in evil; \u201cit _was_ a shame to bring Jones\nand Wildrake here, but\u2014but you see I couldn\u2019t help it:\u201d and he played\nuneasily with his gold-headed riding-whip, while his eye avoided meeting\nthat of his mother.\n\n\u201cThey have acquired some strange influence, some mysterious hold over\nyou,\u201d answered the lady. \u201cIt cannot be,\u201d she added anxiously, \u201cthat you\nhave broken your promise\u2014that they have drawn you again to the\ngaming-table\u2014that you are involved in debt to these men?\u201d\n\nPhilip whistled an air and sauntered up to the window.\n\nLady Grange pressed her hand over her eyes, and a sigh, a very heavy\nsigh, burst from her bosom. Philip heard, and turned impatiently round.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s no use in making the worst of matters,\u201d said he; \u201cwhat\u2019s done\ncan\u2019t be helped, and my debts, such as they are, won\u2019t ruin a rich man\nlike my father.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not that which I fear,\u201d said the mother faintly, with a terrible\nconsciousness that her son\u2014her hope, her pride, the delight of her\nheart, had entered on a course which, if persevered in, must end in his\nruin both of body and soul. \u201cI tremble at the thought of the misery\nwhich you are bringing on yourself. These men are making you their\nvictim: they are blinding your eyes; they are throwing a net around you,\nand you have not the resolution to break from the snare.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are very pleasant, jovial fellows!\u201d cried Philip, trying to hide\nunder an appearance of careless gaiety the real annoyance which he felt\nat the words of his mother. \u201cI\u2019ve asked them to dine here to-day, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201c_I_ shall not appear at the table,\u201d said Lady Grange, drawing herself\nup with dignity; \u201cand if your father should arrive\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! he won\u2019t arrive to-night; he never travels so late.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Philip,\u201d said the lady earnestly, again laying her cold hand on his\narm\u2014she was interrupted by her wayward and undutiful son.\n\n\u201cMother, there\u2019s no use in saying anything more on the subject; it only\nworries you, and puts me out of temper. I can\u2019t, and I won\u2019t, be uncivil\nto my friends;\u201d and turning hastily round, Philip quitted the apartment.\n\n\u201cFriends!\u201d faintly echoed Lady Grange, as she saw the door close behind\nher misguided son. \u201cOh!\u201d she exclaimed, throwing herself on a sofa, and\nburying her face, \u201cwas there ever a mother\u2014ever a woman so unhappy as I\nam!\u201d\n\nHer cup was indeed very bitter; it was one which the luxuries which\nsurrounded her had not the least power to sweeten. Her husband was a man\npossessing many noble qualities both of head and heart; but the fatal\nlove of gold, like those petrifying springs which change living twigs to\ndead stone, had made him hardened, quarrelsome, and worldly. It had\ndrawn him away from the worship of his God; for there is deep truth in\nthe declaration of the apostle, that the covetous man is _an idolater_.\nIt was this miserable love of gold which had induced Sir Gilbert to\nbreak with the family of his wife, and separate her from those to whom\nher loving heart still clung with the fondest affection. Lady Grange\nyearned for a sight of her early home; but gold had raised a barrier\nbetween her and the companions of her childhood. And what had the\npossession of gold done for the man who made it his idol? It had put\nsnares in the path of his only son; it had made the weakminded but\nheadstrong youth be entrapped by the wicked for the sake of his wealth,\nas the ermine is hunted down for its rich fur. It had given to himself\nheavy responsibilities, for which he would have to answer at the bar of\nHeaven; for from him unto whom much has been given, much at the last day\nwill be required.\n\nYes, Lady Grange was very miserable. And how did she endeavour to\nlighten the burden of her misery? Was it by counting over her\njewels\u2014looking at the costly and beautiful things which adorned her\ndwelling\u2014thinking of her carriages and horses and glittering plate, or\nthe number of her rich and titled friends? No; she sought comfort where\nwidow Green had sought it, when her child lay dangerously ill, and there\nwas neither a loaf on her shelf nor a penny in her purse. The rich lady\ndid what the poor one had done\u2014she fell on her knees and with tears\npoured out her heart to the merciful Father of all. She told Him her\nsorrows, she told Him her fears; she asked Him for that help which she\nso much required. Her case was a harder one than the widow\u2019s. A visit\nfrom the clergyman, a present from a benevolent friend, God\u2019s blessing\non a simple remedy, had soon changed Mrs. Green\u2019s sorrow into joy. The\nanguish of Lady Grange lay deeper; her faith was more sorely tried; her\nfears were not for the bodies, but the souls of those whom she\nloved;\u2014and where is the mortal who can give us a cure for the disease of\nsin?\n\nWhile his mother was weeping and praying, Philip was revelling and\ndrinking. Fast were the bottles pushed round, and often were the glasses\nrefilled. The stately banqueting-room resounded with laughter and\nmerriment; and as the evening advanced, with boisterous song. It was\nlate before the young men quitted the table, and then, heated with wine,\nthey threw the window wide open, to let the freshness of the night air\ncool their fevered temples.\n\nBeautiful looked the park in the calm moonlight. Not a breath stirred\nthe branches of the trees, their dark shadows lay motionless on the\ngreen-sward: perfect silence and stillness reigned around. But the holy\nquietness of nature was rudely disturbed by the voices of the revellers.\n\nWith the conversation that passed I shall not soil my pages. The window\nopened into a broad stone balcony, and seating themselves upon its\nparapet, the young men exchanged stories and jests. After many sallies\nof so-called wit, Wildrake rallied Philip on the quantity of wine which\nhe had taken, and betted that he could not walk steadily from the one\nend of the balcony to the other. Philip, with that insane pride which\ncan plume itself on being _mighty to mingle strong drink_, maintained\nthat his head was as clear, and his faculties as perfect, as though he\nhad tasted nothing but water; and declared that he could walk round the\nedge of the parapet with as steady a step as he would tread the\ngravel-path in the morning!\n\nWildrake laughed, and dared him to do it; Jones betted ten to one that\nhe could not.\n\n\u201cDone!\u201d cried Philip, and sprang up on the parapet in a moment!\n\n\u201cCome down again!\u201d called out Wildrake, who had enough of sense left to\nperceive the folly and danger of the wager.\n\nPhilip did not appear to hear him. Attempting to balance himself by his\narms, with a slow and unsteady step he began to make his way along the\nlofty and narrow edge.\n\nThe two young men held their breath. To one who with unsteady feet walks\nthe slippery margin of temptation the higher his position, the greater\nhis danger; the loftier his elevation, the more perilous a fall!\n\n\u201cHe will never get to the end!\u201d said Jones, watching with some anxiety\nthe movements of his companion.\n\nThe words had scarcely escaped his lips when they received a startling\nfulfilment. Philip had not proceeded half way along the parapet when a\nslight sound in the garden below him attracted his attention. He glanced\ndown for a moment: and there, in the cold, clear moonlight, gazing\nsternly upon him, he beheld his father! The sudden start of surprise\nwhich he gave threw the youth off his balance\u2014he staggered back, lost\nhis footing, stretched out his hands wildly to save himself, and fell\nwith a loud cry to the ground!\n\nAll was now confusion and terror. There were the rushing of footsteps\nhither and thither, voices calling, bells loudly ringing\u2014and, above all,\nthe voice of a mother\u2019s anguish, piercing to the soul! Jones and\nWildrake hurried off to the stables, saddled their horses themselves,\nand dashed off at full speed to summon a surgeon, glad of any excuse to\nmake their escape from the place.\n\nThe unfortunate Philip was raised from the ground, and carried into the\nhouse. His groans showed the severity of his sufferings. The slightest\nmotion was to him torture, and an hour of intense suspense ensued,\nbefore the arrival of the surgeon. Lady Grange made a painful effort to\nbe calm. She thought of everything, did all that she could do for the\nrelief of her son, and even strove to speak words of comfort and hope to\nher husband, who appeared almost stupified by his sorrow. Prayer was\nstill her support\u2014prayer, silent, but almost unceasing.\n\nThe surgeon arrived\u2014the injuries received by the sufferer were examined,\nthough it was long before Philip, unaccustomed to pain and incapable of\nself-control, would permit necessary measures to be taken. His\nresistance greatly added to his sufferings. He had sustained a compound\nfracture of his leg, besides numerous bruises and contusions. The broken\nbone had to be set, and the pale mother stood by, longing, in the\nfervour of her unselfish love, that she could endure the agony in the\nplace of her son. The pampered child of luxury shrank sensitively from\npain, and the thought that he had brought all his misery upon himself by\nhis folly and disobedience rendered it yet more intolerable. When the\nsurgeon had at length done his work, Lady Grange retired with him to\nanother apartment, and, struggling to command her choking voice, asked\nhim the question on the reply to which all her earthly happiness seemed\nto hang\u2014whether he had hope that the life of her boy might be spared.\n\n\u201cI have every hope,\u201d said the surgeon, cheerfully, \u201cif we can keep down\nthe fever.\u201d Then, for the first time since she had seen her son lie\nbleeding before her, the mother found the relief of tears.\n\nThrough the long night she quitted not the sufferer\u2019s pillow, bathing\nhis fevered brow, relieving his thirst, whispering comfort to his\ntroubled spirit. Soon after daybreak Philip sank into a quiet,\nrefreshing sleep; and Lady Grange, feeling as if a mountain\u2019s weight had\nbeen lifted from her heart, hurried to carry the good news to her\nhusband.\n\nShe found him in the spacious saloon, pacing restlessly to and fro. His\nbrow was knit, his lips compressed; his disordered dress and haggard\ncountenance showed that he, too, had watched the live-long night.\n\n\u201cHe sleeps at last, Gilbert, thank God!\u201d Her face brightened as she\nspoke; but there was no corresponding look of joy on that of her\nhusband.\n\n\u201cGilbert, the doctor assures me that there is every prospect of our dear\nboy\u2019s restoration!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd to what is he to be restored?\u201d said the father gloomily; \u201cto\npoverty\u2014misery\u2014ruin?\u201d\n\nLady Grange stood mute with surprise, scarcely believing the evidence of\nher senses, almost deeming that the words must have been uttered in a\ndream. But it was no dream, but one of those strange, stern realities\nwhich we meet with in life. Her husband indeed stood before her a ruined\nman! A commercial crash, like those which have so often reduced the rich\nto poverty, coming almost as suddenly as the earthquake which shakes the\nnatural world, had overthrown all his fortune! The riches in which he\nhad trusted had taken to themselves wings and flown away!\n\nHere was another startling shock; but Lady Grange felt it far less than\nthe first. It seemed to her that if her son were only spared to her, she\ncould bear cheerfully any other trial. When riches had increased she had\nnot set her heart upon them; she had endeavoured to spend them as a good\nsteward of God, and to lay up treasure in that blessed place where there\nis no danger of its ever being lost. Sir Gilbert was far more crushed\nthan his wife was by this misfortune. He saw his idol broken before his\neyes, and where was he to turn for comfort? Everything upon which his\neye rested was a source of pain to him; for must he not part with all,\nleave all in which his heart had delighted, all in which his soul had\ntaken pride? He forgot that poverty was only forestalling by a few years\nthe inevitable work of death!\n\nThe day passed wearily away. Philip suffered much pain, was weak and\nlow, and bitterly conscious how well he had earned the misery which he\nwas called on to endure. It was a mercy that he was experiencing, before\nit was too late, _that thorns and snares are in the way of the froward_.\nHe liked his mother to read the Bible to him, just a few verses at a\ntime, as he had strength to bear it; and in this occupation she herself\nfound the comfort which she needed. Sir Gilbert, full of his own\ntroubles, scarcely ever entered the apartment of his son.\n\nTowards evening a servant came softly into the sickroom, bringing a\nsealed letter for her lady. There was no post-mark upon it, and the girl\ninformed her mistress that the gentleman who had brought it was waiting\nin the garden for a reply. The first glance at the hand-writing, at the\nwell-known seal, brought colour to the cheek of the lady. But it was a\nhand-writing which she had been forbidden to read! it was a seal which\nshe must not break! She motioned to the maid to take her place beside\nthe invalid, who happened at that moment to be sleeping, and with a\nquick step and a throbbing heart she hurried away to find her husband.\n\nHe was in his study, his arms resting on his open desk, and his head\nbowed down upon them. Bills and papers, scattered in profusion on the\ntable, showed what had been the nature of the occupation which he had\nnot had the courage to finish. He started from his posture of despair as\nhis wife laid a gentle touch on his shoulder, and, without uttering a\nword, she placed the unopened letter in his hand.\n\nMy reader shall have the privilege of looking over Sir Gilbert\u2019s\nshoulder, and perusing the contents of that letter:\u2014\n\n \u201cDEAREST SISTER,\u2014We have heard of your trials, and warmly sympathize\n in your sorrow. Let Sir Gilbert know that we have placed at his\n banker\u2019s, after having settled it upon you, double the sum which\n caused our unhappy differences. Let the past be forgotten; let us\n again meet as those should meet who have gathered together round the\n same hearth, mourned over the same grave, and shared joys and\n sorrows together, as it is our anxious desire to do now. I shall be\n my own messenger, and shall wait in person to receive your\n reply.\u2014Your ever attached brother,\n\n HENRY LATOUR.\u201d\n\nA few minutes more and Lady Grange was in the arms of her brother; while\nSir Gilbert was silently grasping the hand of one whom, but for\nmisfortune, he would never have known as a friend.\n\nAll the neighbourhood pitied the gentle lady, the benefactress of the\npoor, when she dismissed her servants, sold her jewels, and quitted her\nbeautiful home to seek a humbler shelter. Amongst the hundreds who\ncrowded to the public auction of the magnificent furniture and plate,\nwhich had been the admiration of all who had seen them, many thought\nwith compassion of the late owners, reduced to such sudden poverty,\nthough the generosity of the lady\u2019s family had saved them from want or\ndependence.\n\nAnd yet truly, never since her marriage had Lady Grange been less an\nobject of compassion.\n\nHer son was slowly but surely recovering, and his preservation from\nmeeting sudden death unprepared, was to her a source of unutterable\nthankfulness. Her own family appeared to regard her with even more\ntender affection than if no coldness had ever arisen between them; and\ntheir love was to her beyond price. Even Sir Gilbert\u2019s harsh, worldly\ncharacter was somewhat softened by trials, and by the unmerited kindness\nwhich he met with from those whom, in his prosperity, he had slighted\nand shunned. Lady Grange felt that her prayers had been answered indeed,\nthough in a way very different from what she had hoped or expected. The\nchain by which her son had been gradually drawn down towards ruin, by\nthose who sought his company for the sake of his money, had been\nsuddenly snapped by the loss of his fortune. The weak youth was left to\nthe guidance of those to whom his welfare was really dear. Philip,\nobliged to rouse himself from his indolence, and exert himself to earn\nhis living, became a far wiser and more estimable man than he would ever\nhave been as the heir to a fortune; and he never forgot the lesson which\npain, weakness, and shame had taught him\u2014that the way of evil is also\nthe way of sorrow: _Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward._\n\n Who Wisdom\u2019s path forsakes,\n Leaves all true joy behind:\n He who the peace of others breaks,\n No peace himself shall find.\n Flowers above and thorns below,\n Little pleasure, lasting woe\u2014\n Such is the fate that sinners know!\n\n The drunkard gaily sings\n Above his foaming glass\n But shame and pain the revel brings,\n Ere many hours can pass.\n Flowers above and thorns below,\n Little pleasure, lasting woe\u2014\n Such is the fate that sinners know!\n\n The thief may count his gains;\u2014\n If he the sum could see\n Of future punishment and pains,\n Sad would his reckoning be!\n Flowers above and thorns below,\n Little pleasure, lasting woe\u2014\n Such is the fate that sinners know!\n\n The Sabbath-breaker spurns\n What Wisdom did ordain:\n God\u2019s rest to Satan\u2019s use he turns\u2014\n A blessing to a bane.\n Flowers above and thorns below,\n Little pleasure, lasting woe\u2014\n Such is the fate that sinners know!\n\n O Lord, to Thee we pray;\n Do Thou our faith increase!\n Help us to walk in Wisdom\u2019s way\u2014\n The only way of peace!\n For flowers above and thorns below,\n Little pleasure, lasting woe\u2014\n Such is the fate that sinners know!\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER X.\n COURAGE AND CANDOUR.\n\n\n \u201cThe fear of man bringeth a snare; but whoso putteth his trust in the\n Lord shall be safe.\u201d\u2014PROV. xxix. 25.\n\n\nJonas Colter was as gallant an old seaman as ever sailed on salt water.\nHe was kind and generous, also, and would have shared his last shilling\nor his last crust with any poor creature who required it. Jonas loved\nhis Bible and loved his church, and might have been seen regularly every\nSunday morning with his book under his arm stumping along with his\nwooden leg, on his way to the house of prayer. But Jonas had one sad\nfailing\u2014rather should I call it one great sin, for _an angry man\nstirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in transgression_. He\nhad no sort of command over his temper, and that temper was an\nuncommonly bad one.\n\n\u201cThere are many excuses to be made for him,\u201d his sister, Mrs. Morris,\nwould often say. \u201cJust think what a rough life he has led, and how much\nhe has had to suffer. If his temper rises sometimes like a gale of wind,\nlike a gale of wind it is soon over!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, like a gale of wind, it leaves its effects behind it!\u201d observed a\nneighbour, when this remark was repeated to him. \u201cI shan\u2019t care to call\noften at Mrs. Morris\u2019s house while her bear of a brother makes it his\nden!\u201d\n\nThere were perhaps none on earth whom Jonas loved better than Johnny and\nAlie, the children of his sister; and yet none suffered more from his\nfierce and ungoverned temper. They feared him more than they loved him;\nand notwithstanding the many little presents which he made them, and the\nmany little kindnesses which he showed them, his absence, when he left\nhome, was always felt as a relief. It is impossible to regard with the\ngreatest affection one who puts you in perpetual fear, or to feel quite\nhappy with a companion whose smile may in a moment be changed to a\nfrown, whose pleasant talk to a passionate burst.\n\nJohnny, though considered a courageous boy, was afraid of rousing his\nuncle; and if to him Jonas was an object of fear, to Alie he was an\nobject of terror. Alie was one of the most timid little creatures in the\nvillage. She would go a long way round to avoid passing a large dog, was\nuneasy at the sight of a turkey-cock, and never dared so much as raise\nher eyes if a stranger happened to address her. It was not only from the\ntemper of her uncle that poor little Alie now suffered; Johnny, while\nhimself annoyed at the roughness of Jonas, with the imitative\ndisposition of youth, began in a certain degree to copy it. He knew that\nthe old sailor was thought generous and brave, and therefore wished to\nbe like him; but made the very common mistake of imitators\u2014followed him\nrather in his defects than in those things which were worthy of\nadmiration. Perhaps Johnny also tried to hide from himself and others\nhow much he was cowed by his uncle, by assuming a blustering manner\nhimself. This is so often unconsciously done, that whenever I see a\nbully I am inclined to suspect that I am looking at a coward.\n\nAlie was fond of listening to her uncle\u2019s sea-stories\u2014\u201clong yarns,\u201d as\nhe called them\u2014but only if she could listen unobserved. Her favourite\nplace was the window-seat, where she could draw the curtain before her\nto screen her from observation. To be suddenly addressed by her uncle\nwas enough to make the timid child start.\n\nJonas had many curiosities from foreign parts, which it amused the\nchildren to see\u2014dried sea-weed, reptiles in bottles, odd specimens of\nwork done in straw by savages in some distant islands with\nunpronounceable names. These treasures were never kept under lock and\nkey; it was quite enough that they belonged to the terrible Jonas; no\none was likely to meddle much with his goods, lest he should \u201cgive \u2019em a\nbit of his mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlie,\u201d cried Johnny one morning, when the children happened to be alone\nin their uncle\u2019s little room, \u201cwhere on earth have you put my \u2018Robinson\nCrusoe?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI?\u201d said the little girl, looking up innocently from her work; \u201cI have\nnot so much as seen it.\u201d\n\n\u201cLook for it, then!\u201d cried the boy, in the loud coarse tone which he had\ntoo faithfully copied from his uncle.\n\nLittle Alie was plying her needle diligently, and her brother had\nnothing to do; but she was much too timid to remonstrate. She set down\nher work, and moved quietly about the room, glancing behind this thing\nand under that; while Johnny, stretched at full length on the floor,\namused himself with chucking up marbles.\n\n\u201cThere it is!\u201d cried Alie at last, glancing upwards at a high shelf, on\nwhich were ranged divers of Jonas\u2019s bottles.\n\n\u201cGet it down!\u201d said the boy, who, to judge by his tone, thought himself\nequal to an admiral, at the least.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think that I can,\u201d replied Alie; \u201cI can\u2019t reach the shelf, and\nthere\u2019s another book and a heavy bottle too on the top of \u2018Robinson\nCrusoe.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cGoose! can\u2019t you get a chair?\u201d was the only reply vouchsafed.\n\nAlie slowly dragged a heavy chair to the spot, while Johnny commenced\nsinging\u2014\n\n \u201cBritons never, never shall be slaves!\u201d\n\nconsidering of course as exceptions to the rule all gentle, helpless,\nlittle British girls, who happen to have strong, tyrannical brothers.\n\n\u201cThere!\u2014mind!\u2014take care what you\u2019re about!\u201d he cried, as he watched\nAlie\u2019s efforts to accomplish the task for which she had hardly\nsufficient strength or height. Scarcely were the words uttered when down\nwith a crash came the bottle and the books, almost upsetting poor Alie\nherself!\n\nJohnny jumped up from the ground in an instant.\n\n\u201cWhat is to be done!\u201d he exclaimed, looking with dismay at the broken\nbottle, whose green contents, escaping in all directions, was staining\nthe floor and also the book, which was one of Jonas\u2019s greatest\ntreasures.\n\n\u201cOh! what is to be done!\u201d repeated poor Alie, in real distress.\n\nJohnny felt so angry with himself, that he was much inclined, after his\nusual fashion, to vent his anger upon his sister. Seeing, however, that\nthey were both in the same trouble, and that it had been occasioned by\nhis laziness in making the little girl do what he ought to have done\nhimself, he repressed his indignation, and turned his mind to the means\nof remedying the evil.\n\n\u201cMy uncle will be in a downright tempest!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cwhat say you\nto a good long walk right off to the farm, to get out of the way of its\nfury?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be just as bad when we came back!\u201d said Alie dolefully,\nstooping to pick up the injured book.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t touch it!\u201d cried Johnny authoritatively; \u201cdon\u2019t get the stain on\nyour dress as well as on everything else. I have hit on a famous plan.\nWe\u2019ll shut up the cat in the room, then go on our walk, and no one on\nearth will guess that she did not do the mischief.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! but, Johnny, would it be right?\u201d\n\n\u201cRight! fiddlestick!\u201d cried the boy. \u201cPut on your bonnet and be quick,\nwhile I look for Tabby in the kitchen.\u201d\n\nAlie had great doubts whether she ought to obey, but she was frightened\nand confused, and accustomed to submit to the orders of her brother;\nand, after all, her uncle was so fond of the cat, that it was likely to\nsuffer much less from his anger than any other creature would have done.\n\nTabby was soon caught, and placed on the floor near the broken bottle.\nJohnny dipped one of her paws in the fluid, to serve as further evidence\nagainst her, and then came out of the little room.\n\n\u201cI must get out my work\u2014I left it there,\u201d said Alie.\n\n\u201cGo in quickly, and get it then,\u201d replied Johnny.\n\n[Illustration: ALIE WATCHING THE CAT.]\n\nAlie went in, and returned with the work, but stood hesitating before\nshe quitted the room, looking back with her hand on the lock.\n\n\u201cOh, Johnny! Tabby is licking it up!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo much the better!\u201d cried he; \u201cher whiskers will tell tales of her\nthen!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Johnny\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cCome quickly! I can\u2019t stand waiting for you all the day!\u201d exclaimed the\nboy; \u201cuncle may be back before we get off!\u201d\n\nThese words quickened the movements of Alie: she closed the door with a\nsigh.\n\nVery grave and silent was the child during the whole of that long walk;\nvery grave and silent during her visit to the farm. Johnny first laughed\nat her nonsense, as he called it, and then grew irritable and rude,\nafter the example of his uncle. The walk home was a very unpleasant one\nto Alie.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cPOOR TABBY!\u201d]\n\nBut more unpleasant was the arrival at home. The first sight which met\nthe children\u2019s eyes, on their return, was poor Tabby stretched out\nlifeless on the floor of the kitchen, and their uncle bending over her\nwith a flushed face and knitted brow; while their mother, who stood\nbeside him, was vainly endeavouring to calm him.\n\n\u201cAccidents will occur, dear brother\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThere has been gross carelessness somewhere,\u201d growled the sailor; and\nturning suddenly round toward the children, whom he now first perceived,\nhe thundered out to Johnny, \u201cWas it you, sir, who shut the cat into my\nroom?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered Johnny very promptly: then he added, \u201cAlie and I have\nbeen out a long time; we have been all the way to the farm.\u201d\n\n\u201cI may have shut the door myself,\u201d said the mother, \u201cwithout knowing of\nthe cat being in the place.\u201d And, to turn the sailor\u2019s mind from his\nloss, she continued, \u201cI\u2019m going up to the village, Jonas, and I\u2019ve a\nvery large basket to carry; Johnny\u2019s just come off a long walk, or\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m your man!\u201d cried the sailor; \u201cI\u2019ll help you with your load. Just\nwait a few minutes till I\u2019ve buried this poor thing in the garden. I\nshouldn\u2019t like the dogs to get at her\u2014though she\u2019s past feeling now,\npoor Tabby!\u201d And as the stern, rough man stooped, raised his dead\nfavourite, and carried it away, Alie thought that she saw something like\nmoisture trembling in his eye.\n\n\u201cAlie,\u201d said her mother, \u201cgo into that room, and carefully collect the\nbroken pieces of the bottle which poor Tabby managed to knock off the\nshelf; and wash that part of the floor which is stained by the liquid:\nbe attentive not to leave a drop of it anywhere; for the contents of the\nbottle was deadly poison, and I cannot be too thankful that the cat was\nthe only sufferer.\u201d\n\nAlie obeyed with a very heavy heart. She was grieved at the death of\nTabby, grieved at the vexation of her uncle\u2014most grieved of all at the\nthought that she had not acted openly and conscientiously herself.\n\nWhen she returned to the kitchen, she found Johnny its only occupant,\nher mother and uncle having set off for the village.\n\n\u201cI say, Alie,\u201d cried Johnny, \u201cwasn\u2019t it lucky that uncle asked me\ninstead of you about shutting the cat in? \u2019Twas you that closed the\ndoor, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Johnny!\u201d said his sister, \u201cI feel so unhappy about it! I wish that\nI had told mother everything\u2014I don\u2019t think that I could have spoken to\nuncle. It seems just as if I were deceiving them both!\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d cried Johnny, in a very loud tone; \u201cyou ought to be too\nhappy that the storm has blown over!\u201d\n\nBut the conscience of Alie would make itself heard, notwithstanding her\nbrother\u2019s voice of scorn. She had been accustomed from the time when she\ncould first talk, to speak the simple truth, and the whole truth. She\nknew that there may be falsehood even in _silence_, when that silence\ntends to deceive. She felt that she had wronged her uncle, by destroying\nhis property, and, however unintentionally, causing the death of his\npet; and instead of frankly confessing the wrong, and asking pardon, she\nwas concealing the matter. Alie went slowly up to her own little room,\ntook down from its shelf her well-used Bible\u2014that would be a safer\ncounsellor than her brother! She opened it, and the first verse upon\nwhich her eyes rested was this, _The fear of man bringeth a snare: but\nwhoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe._ Alie closed her\nbook, and resting her head upon her hand, sat and thought:\u2014\n\n\u201cMother has often told me that the language of heaven is truth, and that\nwhosoever _loveth or maketh a lie_ shall never be admitted to that happy\nplace! But why should my mind be so troubled?\u2014I have not said a single\nword that is not true. But I have concealed the truth. And why?\u2014because\nof _the fear of man_, which the Bible tells me _bringeth a snare_. What\nthen would be my straight course of duty? to confess that I threw down\nthe poison? Would not that bring my brother into trouble? No; for it was\nI who climbed on the chair, I who knocked over the bottle, I who last\nshut the door\u2014all the mischief was done by me, though it was not done\nfor my own pleasure. I know what will be my best plan,\u201d said Alie, with\na sigh of relief at coming to anything like a decision: \u201cI\u2019ll confess\nall to mother when she comes back from the village; and she will choose\na good time, when my uncle is in a pleasant temper and I am out of the\nway, and tell him that I killed poor Tabby, but am exceedingly sorry\nthat I did it.\u201d\n\nSo Alie returned to the kitchen, and put on the water to boil for tea\nand sat down to her unfinished work, awaiting her mother\u2019s return. Her\nheart beat faster than usual when she heard the clump, clump of her\nuncle\u2019s wooden leg, but still more when he entered the house alone.\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019s mother?\u201d said Johnny.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s gone to the vicarage,\u201d replied Jonas. \u201cShe met a messenger to\ntell her that the lady there is taken very ill, and wants some one to\nnurse her; so she sheered off straight for Brampton, and desired me to\ncome back and tell you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen will she return?\u201d asked Alie with anxiety.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s when the lady gets better, I s\u2019pose. I suspect that she\u2019s cast\nanchor for a good while, from what I hear,\u201d replied the sailor. \u201cBut\npluck up a good heart, little lass, and don\u2019t look as though you were\nabout to set the water-works going; I\u2019ve brought you something to cheer\nyou up a bit;\u201d and slowly unfolding his red pocket-handkerchief, Jonas\ndisplayed a large cake of gingerbread. \u201cHere\u2019s for you,\u201d he said,\nholding it out to his niece.\n\n\u201cOh! uncle!\u201d cried Alie, without attempting to touch it.\n\n\u201cTake it, will you,\u201d said he sharply; \u201cwhat are ye hanging back for?\u201d\nAlie took the cake, and thanked her uncle in a faltering voice. Jonas\nstooped down, lighted his pipe, and as he glanced at the warm corner\nwhich used to be his favourite\u2019s chosen place, and missed her well-known\npurr, the old sailor gave an unconscious sigh, and \u201cPoor Tabby!\u201d escaped\nfrom his lips.\n\n[Illustration: UNCLE JONAS.]\n\nThe sound of the sigh, and the words, gave pain to the heart of little\nAlie. \u201cHere am I receiving kindness from my uncle,\u201d thought she, \u201cand\nknowing how little I deserve it; and yet I have not courage to confess\nthe truth! I am sure that fear is _a snare_ to me. Oh, that I had a\nbraver heart, so that I should dread nothing but doing wrong! Johnny is\nas bold as a lion, yet I am sure that even he would be afraid to tell\nthe truth to my uncle!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter with the lass?\u201d cried Jonas with blunt kindness,\ntaking the pipe from his lips, and looking steadily at the child. \u201cYe\u2019re\nvexed at your mother biding away?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not that,\u201d replied Alie, very softly.\n\n\u201cYe\u2019re fretting about the cat?\u201d\n\n\u201cPartly,\u201d murmured the child.\n\n\u201cKind little soul!\u201d exclaimed the sailor, heartily: \u201cI\u2019ll get a white\nkitten, or a tortoise-shell for ye, if one\u2019s to be had for love or\nmoney! But maybe ye\u2019re like the Jack-tar, and don\u2019t think new friends\nlike the old!\u201d and the rough hard hand of the seaman was laid\ncaressingly on the little girl\u2019s shoulder.\n\n\u201cUncle, you quite mistake me, you\u2014you\u2014would not be so kind if you knew\nall!\u201d said Alie rapidly. The first difficult step was taken, but poor\nAlie\u2019s cheek was crimson, and she would have felt it at that moment\nimpossible to have raised her eyes from the floor.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s all this?\u201d exclaimed Jonas roughly, while Johnny, afraid that\nthe whole truth was coming out, made a hasty retreat from the kitchen.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s all this?\u201d repeated the bluff sailor. Alie had now gone so far\nthat she had not power to retreat. Her little hands pressed tightly\ntogether, her voice tremulous and indistinct with fear, she stammered\nforth, \u201cIt was I who knocked down the bottle\u2014and\u2014and shut poor Tabby\ninto your room\u2014and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cShut her in on purpose?\u201d thundered Jonas, starting up from his seat.\nAlie bent her head as her only reply.\n\n\u201cShut in the cat that the blame might be laid upon her!\u2014took a long walk\nthat the mean trick might be successful!\u201d At each sentence his voice\nrose louder and louder, so that Johnny could hear it at the other side\nof the road, while poor Alie bent like a reed beneath the storm.\n\n\u201cAnd was your brother with you, girl?\u201d continued the angry sailor, after\na short but terrible pause.\n\nPoor Alie was dreadfully perplexed; she squeezed her hands together\ntighter than ever; she could not speak, but her silence spoke enough.\n\n\u201cMean coward!\u201d exclaimed Jonas, striking the table with his clenched\nfist till it rang again; \u201cand he has set all sail, and made off, and\nleft this little pinnace to brave the storm alone!\u201d Alie burst into\ntears; and whether it was the sight of these tears, or whether his own\nwords reminded the sailor that Alie at least had now acted an honest,\nstraight-forward part, his anger towards her was gone in a moment, and\nhe drew her kindly to his knee.\n\n\u201cDry these eyes, and think no more about it,\u201d said he; \u201cyou never\nguessed that the liquid was poison, and accidents, as they say, will\nhappen even in the best-regulated families. But why did not you and your\nsneak of a brother tell me honestly about breaking the bottle, instead\nof playing such a cowardly trick as that of shutting up the poor cat in\nthe room?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, uncle,\u201d murmured Alie, at length finding her voice, \u201cwe knew that\nyou would be so dreadfully angry!\u201d\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d said the sailor thoughtfully. \u201cSo the fear of me was a snare to\nyou. Well, you may go after your brother, if he\u2019s not run away so far\nthat you cannot find him, and tell him that he may sneak back as soon as\nhe can muster enough of courage, for not a word, good or bad, shall he\nhear from me about the bottle or the cat. And mind you, my honest little\nlass,\u201d continued Jonas, \u201cI\u2019ll not forget the white kitten for you;\u2014for\nthough you\u2019ve not a stout heart you\u2019ve a brave conscience, and dare\nspeak the truth even to a crabbed old sailor, who you knew would be \u2018so\ndreadfully angry.\u2019\u201d\n\nAlie flew off like a bird, her heart lightened of its load, and\nrejoicing in the consciousness that a painful duty had been performed.\nAnd whenever in future life she felt tempted to take a crooked course\nfrom the dread of some peril in the straight one, the timid girl found\ncourage in remembering the verse which had struck her so much on that\nday\u2014_The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in\nthe Lord shall be safe._\n\n The fear of God most high\u2014\n It is a holy fear;\n It makes us pass through life as those\n Who know their Judge is near.\n The fear of sinful Man\u2014\n \u2019Tis a debasing fear;\n Shame will be theirs who dare not brave\n A censure or a sneer!\n\n It was the fear of God\n Through which the Hebrews three\n Undaunted met the tyrant\u2019s frown,\n Unmoved the flames could see!\n It was the fear of Man\n Weak Pilate\u2019s breast within,\n That stained his hands with guiltless blood,\n His soul with blackest sin!\n\n No courage is like that\n Which steadfast faith bestows;\n With God our friend, we would be safe\n Were all the world our foes!\n Faith but the duty sees,\n Where doubt would danger scan:\n \u2019Tis through the fear of God alone\n We crush the fear of Man!\n\n[Illustration: [cattle at gate]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n THE SAILOR\u2019S RESOLVE.\n\n\n \u201cAn angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in\n transgression.\u201d\u2014PROV. xxix. 22.\n\n\nThe old sailor Jonas sat before the fire with his pipe in his mouth,\nlooking steadfastly into the glowing coals. Not that, following a\nfavourite practice of his little niece, he was making out red-hot\ncastles and flaming buildings in the grate, or that his thoughts were in\nany way connected with the embers: he was doing what it would be well if\nwe all sometimes did\u2014looking into himself, and reflecting on what had\nhappened in relation to his own conduct.\n\n\u201cSo,\u201d thought he, \u201chere am I, an honest old fellow\u2014I may say it, with\nall my faults; and one who shrinks from falsehood more than from fire;\nand I find that I, with my bearish temper, am actually driving those\nabout me into it\u2014teaching them to be crafty, tricky, and cowardly! I\nknew well enough that my gruffness plagued others, but I never saw how\nit _tempted_ others until now; tempted them to meanness, I would say,\nfor I have found a thousand times that _an angry man stirreth up\nstrife_, and that a short word may begin a long quarrel. I am afraid\nthat I have not thought enough on this matter. I\u2019ve looked on bad temper\nas a very little sin, and I begin to suspect that it is a great one,\nboth in God\u2019s eyes and in the consequences that it brings. Let me see if\nI can reckon up its evils! It makes those miserable whom one would wish\nto make happy; it often, like an adverse gale, forces them to back\ninstead of steering straight for the port. It dishonours one\u2019s\nprofession, lowers one\u2019s flag, makes the world mock at the religion\nwhich can leave a man as rough and rugged as a heathen savage. It\u2019s\ndirectly contrary to the Word of God\u2014it\u2019s wide as east from west of the\nexample set before us! Yes, a furious temper is a very evil thing; I\u2019d\ngive my other leg to be rid of mine!\u201d and in the warmth of his\nself-reproach the sailor struck his wooden one against the hearth with\nsuch violence as to make Alie start in terror that some fierce explosion\nwas about to follow.\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ve made up my mind as to its being an evil\u2014a great evil,\u201d\ncontinued Jonas, in his quiet meditation; \u201cthe next question is, how is\nthe evil to be got rid of? There\u2019s the pinch! It clings to one like\none\u2019s skin. It\u2019s one\u2019s nature\u2014how can one fight against nature? And yet,\nI take it, it\u2019s the very business of faith to conquer our evil nature.\nAs I read somewhere, any dead dog can float with the stream, it\u2019s the\nliving dog that swims against it. I mind the trouble I had about the\nwicked habit of swearing, when first I took to trying to serve God and\nleave off my evil courses. Bad words came to my mouth as natural as the\nvery air that I breathed. What did I do to cure myself of that evil?\nWhy, I resolved again and again, and found that my resolutions were\nalways snapping like a rotten cable in a storm; and I was driven from my\nanchorage so often, that I almost began to despair. Then I prayed hard\nto be helped; and I said to myself, \u2018God helps those who help\nthemselves, and maybe if I determine to do something that I should be\nsorry to do, every time that an oath comes from my mouth, it would\nassist me to remember my duty.\u2019 I resolved to break my pipe the first\ntime that I swore; and I\u2019ve never uttered an oath from that day to this,\nnot even in my most towering passions! Now I\u2019ll try the same cure again;\nnot to punish a sin, but to prevent it. If I fly into a fury, I\u2019ll break\nmy pipe! There, Jonas Grimstone, I give you fair warning!\u201d and the old\nsailor smiled grimly to himself, and stirred the fire with an air of\nsatisfaction.\n\nNot one rough word did Jonas utter that evening\u2014indeed he was remarkably\nsilent; for the simplest way of saying nothing evil, he thought, was to\nsay nothing at all. Jonas looked with much pleasure at his pipe, when he\nput it on the mantelpiece for the night. \u201cYou\u2019ve weathered this day, old\nfriend,\u201d said he; \u201cwe\u2019ll be on the look-out against squalls to-morrow.\u201d\n\nThe next morning Jonas occupied himself in his own room with his phials,\nand his nephew and niece were engaged in the kitchen in preparing for\nthe Sunday school, which their mother made them regularly attend. The\ndoor was open between the two rooms, and, as the place was not large,\nJonas heard every word that passed between Johnny and Alie almost as\nwell as if he had been close beside them.\n\n_Johnny._ I say, Alie\u2014\n\n_Alie._ Please, Johnny, let me learn this quietly. If I do not know it\nmy teacher will be vexed. My work being behind-hand yesterday has put me\nquite back with my tasks. You know that I cannot learn as fast as you\ndo.\n\n_Johnny._ Oh! you\u2019ve plenty of time. I want you to do something for me.\nDo you know that I have lost my new ball?\n\n_Alie._ Why, I saw you take it out of your pocket yesterday, just after\nwe crossed the stile on our way back from the farm.\n\n_Johnny._ That\u2019s it! I took it out of my pocket, and I never put it in\nagain. I want you to go directly and look for the ball. That stile is\nonly three fields off, you know. You must look carefully along the path\nall the way; and lose no time, or some one else may pick it up.\n\n_Alie._ Pray, Johnny, don\u2019t ask me to go into the fields.\n\n_Johnny._ I tell you, you have plenty of time for your lessons.\n\n_Alie._ It is not that, but\u2014\n\n_Johnny._ Speak out, will you?\n\n_Alie._ You know\u2014there are\u2014cows!\n\nJohnny burst into a loud, coarse laugh of derision. \u201cYou miserable\nlittle coward!\u201d he cried, \u201cI\u2019d like to see one chasing you round the\nmeadow! How you\u2019d scamper! how you\u2019d scream! rare fun it would be\u2014ha,\nha, ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cRare fun would it be, sir!\u201d exclaimed an indignant voice, as Jonas\nstumped from the next room, and, seizing his nephew by the collar of his\njacket, gave him a hearty shake; \u201crare fun would it be\u2014and what do you\ncall this? You dare twit your sister with cowardice!\u2014you who sneaked off\nyesterday like a fox because you had not the spirit to look an old man\nin the face!\u2014you who bully the weak and cringe to the strong!\u2014you who\nhave the manners of a bear with the heart of a pigeon!\u201d Every sentence\nwas accompanied by a violent shake, which almost took the breath from\nthe boy; and Jonas, red with passion, concluded his speech by flinging\nJohnny from him with such force that, but for the wall against which he\nstaggered, he must have fallen to the ground.\n\nThe next minute Jonas walked up to the mantelpiece, and exclaiming, in a\ntone of vexation, \u201cRun aground again!\u201d took his pipe, snapped it in two,\nand flung the pieces into the fire. He then stumped back to his room,\nslamming the door behind him.\n\n\u201cThe old fury!\u201d muttered the panting Johnny between his clenched teeth,\nlooking fiercely towards his uncle\u2019s room.\n\n\u201cTo break his own pipe!\u201d exclaimed Alie. \u201cI never knew him do anything\nlike that before, however angry he might be!\u201d\n\nJohnny took down his cap from its peg, and, in as ill humour as can well\nbe imagined, went out to search for his ball. He took what revenge he\ncould on his formidable uncle, while amusing himself that afternoon by\nlooking over his \u201cRobinson Crusoe.\u201d Johnny was fond of his pencil,\nthough he had never learned to draw; and the margins of his books were\noften adorned with grim heads or odd figures, by his hand. There was a\npicture in \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d representing a party of cannibals, as\nhideous as fancy could represent them, dancing around their fire. Johnny\ndiverted his mind, and gratified his malice, by doing his best so to\nalter the foremost figure as to make him appear with a wooden leg, while\nhe drew on his head a straw hat, unmistakably like that of the old\nsailor, and touched up the features so as to give a dim resemblance to\nhis face. To prevent a doubt as to the meaning of the sketch, Johnny\nscribbled on the side of the picture,\u2014\n\n \u201cIn search of fierce savages no one need roam;\n The fiercest and ugliest, you\u2019ll find him at home!\u201d\n\nHe secretly showed the picture to Alie.\n\n\u201cOh, Johnny, how naughty! What would uncle say if he saw it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe might look out for squalls indeed! but uncle never by any chance\nlooks at a book of that sort.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think that you had better rub out the pencilling as fast as you can,\u201d\nsaid Alie.\n\n\u201cCatch me rubbing it out!\u201d cried Johnny; \u201cit\u2019s the best sketch that ever\nI drew, and as like the old savage as it can stare!\u201d\n\nLate in the evening Mrs. Morris returned, a nurse from London having\nbeen sent for the lady. Right glad were Johnny and Alie to see her\nsooner than they had ventured to expect. She brought them a few oranges,\nto show her remembrance of them. Nor was the old sailor forgotten;\ncarefully she drew from her bag, and presented to him, a new pipe.\n\nThe children glanced at each other. Jonas took the pipe with a curious\nexpression on his face, which his sister was at a loss to understand.\n\n\u201cThank\u2019ee kindly,\u201d he said; \u201cI see it\u2019ll be a case of\u2014\n\n \u201c\u2018If ye try and don\u2019t succeed,\n Try, try, try, again,\u2019\u201d\n\nWhat he meant was a riddle to every one else present, although not to\nthe reader.\n\nThe \u201ctry\u201d was very successful on that evening and the following day.\nNever had Johnny and Alie found their uncle so agreeable. His manner\nalmost approached to gentleness\u2014it was a calm after a storm.\n\n\u201cUncle is so very good and kind,\u201d said Alie to her brother, as they\nwalked home from afternoon service, \u201cthat I wonder how you can bear to\nhave that naughty picture still in your book. He is not in the least\nlike a cannibal, and it seems quite wrong to laugh at him so.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll rub it all out one of these days,\u201d replied Johnny; \u201cbut I must\nshow it first to Peter Crane. He says that I never hit on a likeness: if\nhe sees that, he\u2019ll never say so again!\u201d\n\nThe next morning Jonas occupied himself with gathering wild-flowers and\nherbs in the fields. He carried them into his little room, where Johnny\nheard him whistling \u201cOld Tom Bowling,\u201d like one at peace with himself\nand all the world.\n\nPresently Jonas called to the boy to bring him a knife from the kitchen;\na request made in an unusually courteous tone of voice, and with which,\nof course, Johnny immediately complied.\n\nHe found Jonas busy drying his plants, by laying them neatly between the\npages of a book, preparatory to pressing them down. What was the terror\nof Johnny when he perceived that the book whose pages Jonas was turning\nover for this purpose was no other than his \u201cRobinson Crusoe!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, if I could only get it out of his hands before he comes to that\nhorrid picture! Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!\u201d thought the\nbewildered Johnny. \u201cUncle, I was reading that book,\u201d at last he mustered\ncourage to say aloud.\n\n\u201cYou may read it again to-morrow,\u201d was the quiet reply of Jonas.\n\n\u201cPerhaps he will not look at that picture,\u201d reflected Johnny. \u201cI wish\nthat I could see exactly which part of the book he is at! He looks too\nquiet a great deal for any mischief to have been done yet! Dear! dear! I\nwould give anything to have that \u2018Robinson Crusoe\u2019 at the bottom of the\nsea! I do think that my uncle\u2019s face is growing very red!\u2014yes; the veins\non his forehead are swelling! Depend on\u2019t he\u2019s turned over to those\nunlucky cannibals, and will be ready to eat me like one of them! I\u2019d\nbetter make off before the thunder-clap comes!\u201d\n\n\u201cGoing to sheer off again, Master Johnny?\u201d said the old sailor, in a\nvery peculiar tone of voice, looking up from the open book on which his\nfinger now rested.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve a little business,\u201d stammered out Johnny.\n\n\u201cYes, a little business with me, which you\u2019d better square before you\nhoist sail. Why, when you made such a good figure of this savage, did\nyou not clap jacket and boots on this little cannibal beside him, and\nmake a pair of \u2019em \u2018at home\u2019? I suspect you and I are both in the same\nboat as far as regards our tempers, my lad!\u201d\n\nJohnny felt it utterly impossible to utter a word in reply.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid,\u201d pursued the seaman, closing the book, \u201cthat we\u2019ve both had\na bit too much of the savage about us\u2014too much of the dancing round the\nfire. But mark me, Jack\u2014we learn even in that book that a savage, a\ncannibal _may_ be tamed; and we learn from something far better, that\nprinciple\u2014the noblest principle which can govern either the young or the\nold\u2014_may_, ay, and _must_, put out the fire of fierce anger in our\nhearts, and change us from wild beasts to men! So I\u2019ve said my say,\u201d\nadded Jonas with a smile, \u201cand in token of my first victory over my old\nfoe, come here, my boy, and give us your hand!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, uncle, I am so sorry!\u201d exclaimed Johnny, with moistened eyes, as he\nfelt the kindly grasp of the old man.\n\n\u201cSorry are you? and what were you on Saturday when I shook you as a cat\nshakes a rat?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, uncle, I own that I was angry.\u201d\n\n\u201cSorry now, and angry then? So it\u2019s clear that the mild way has the best\neffect, to say nothing of the example.\u201d And Jonas fell into a fit of\nmusing.\n\nAll was fair weather and sunshine in the home on that day, and on many\ndays after. Jonas had, indeed, a hard struggle to subdue his temper, and\noften felt fierce anger rising in his heart, and ready to boil over in\nwords of passion, or acts of violence; but Jonas, as he had endeavoured\nfaithfully to serve his Queen, while he fought under her flag, brought\nthe same earnest and brave sense of duty to bear on the trials of daily\nlife. He never again forgot his resolution, and every day that passed\nmade the restraint which he laid upon himself less painful and irksome\nto him.\n\nIf the conscience of any of my readers should tell him that, by his\nunruly temper, he is marring the peace of his family, oh! let him not\nneglect the evil as a small one, but, like the poor old sailor in my\nstory, resolutely struggle against it. For _an angry man stirreth up\nstrife, and a furious man aboundeth in transgression_.\n\n There is sin in commencing strife;\n Sin in the thoughtless jest\n Or angry burst,\n Which awakens first\n The ire in a brother\u2019s breast!\n\n There is sin in stirring up strife,\n In fanning the smouldering flame,\n By scornful eye,\n Or proud reply,\n Or anger-stirring name.\n\n There is sin in keeping up strife,\n Dark, soul-destroying sin.\n Who cherishes hate\n May seek heaven\u2019s gate,\n But never can enter in.\n\n For peace is the Christian\u2019s joy,\n And love is the Christian\u2019s life;\n He\u2019s bound for a home\n Where hate cannot come,\n Nor the shadow of sin or strife!\n\n[Illustration: [woman reading]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n THE GIPSIES.\n\n\n \u201cIf thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those\n that are ready to be slain; if thou sayest, Behold, we knew it not; doth\n not He that pondereth the heart consider it; and He that keepeth thy\n soul, doth He not know it? and shall not He render to every man\n according to his works?\u201d\u2014PROV. xxiv. 11, 12.\n\n\nAlie sat on the threshold of her home on a bright morning in May, eating\na cake which her uncle had given her, and now and then throwing a crumb\nto the merry little swallows that were twittering in the eaves and\ndarting in and out of their nests.\n\nAlie had not sat long when a tall, large-boned woman, in a red cloak,\nwith sun-burnt features and wild dark eyes, approached her, followed by\na miserable-looking little girl, about six or seven years of age, who\nhad neither shoes on her blistered feet nor bonnet over her tangled\nhair. The gipsy stopped before Alie, and, in a tone which she intended\nto be winning, said, \u201cGood mornin\u2019 to ye, my dear. Will ye cross my hand\nwith silver, and I\u2019ll tell ye your fortin\u2019?\u201d\n\nAlie promptly declined the offer, not only because she had been taught\nby her mother never to encourage those who pretend to be able to look\ninto the future and to see what God has hidden from our eyes, but\nbecause the appearance of the woman frightened her. And had the gipsy\nsaid anything more to her, Alie would have retreated at once from the\ndoor. The woman, however, passed on, and a few yards further on found a\nwilling listener in a flighty girl of the village, whose long gilt\near-rings, red ribands and curl-papers, were the outward tokens of such\nvanity and folly as might easily make her the dupe of a gipsy\nfortune-teller.\n\nBut the thin little girl lingered behind, shily eyeing Alie\u2019s\ntempting-looking cake. Alie broke off a piece and held it out to her.\nThe child sidled up, took it, and devoured it as though she were\nfamished. Alie smiled and gave her another bit.\n\n\u201cWhat is your name, little girl?\u201d said Alie, first glancing to see that\nthe gipsy was too much occupied to listen to her.\n\n\u201cMadge,\u201d answered the child.\n\n\u201cAnd is that woman your mother?\u201d\n\nMadge nodded her head in reply.\n\n\u201cAnd you go wandering about the country with her?\u201d\n\nMadge gave some low confused answer, which Alie could not at first\nunderstand; she made out from the child at last that the gipsy had\npitched her tent somewhere near, and that she could not tell how long\nshe would stay.\n\n\u201cDo you ever go to school, little Madge?\u201d\n\nThe child only answered by a stare.\n\n\u201cDoes any one teach you to read?\u201d\n\nMadge either did not comprehend the meaning of the question, or her eyes\nwere wandering to Alie\u2019s white kitten, and she paid no attention to what\nwas said. Alie marked the curious glance, and setting down her cake,\nwent after her shy favourite, drew it from under the table where it had\ncrouched, and carried it to the little girl at the door.\n\nAlie\u2019s cake was nowhere to be seen, and the gipsy child was turning\naway!\n\n\u201cMy cake!\u201d exclaimed Alie. The girl started, and the piece of cake fell\nfrom her hand to the ground!\n\nAlie, astonished as well as distressed, stood looking for a moment at\nthe little culprit, then said in a voice of pity, \u201cPick it up, little\nMadge; you may eat it. I daresay that you are more hungry than I. But,\noh!\u201d she continued, as the child obeyed with an awkward air and a look\nof shame, \u201cdid you not know that it was very, very naughty to steal it?\nDid your mother never teach you that it is wrong to take what is not\nyour own?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: ALIE AND THE GIPSY GIRL.]\n\nA strange expression stole over the face of the wretched girl, which,\ncoupled with the gipsy woman\u2019s appearance and what Alie had heard of the\ncharacter of some of the race, made her suspect that Madge would derive\nlittle benefit from her parent\u2019s instructions.\n\n\u201cDo you not know that God sees you?\u201d pursued the young questioner.\n\n\u201cI know nothing about Him!\u201d muttered the child.\n\n\u201cNot know about God!\u2014never pray to Him!\u201d exclaimed Alie.\n\nBut here the conversation was suddenly broken off by the gipsy woman\ncalling to the child. Madge looked frightened, like one who had often\nfound a word to be followed by a blow, and obeyed the call, though\nreluctantly, casting a parting look of regret, not at Alie, but at her\npretty white kitten, and in a few minutes more both the gipsy and child\nhad disappeared down a lane.\n\n\u201cOh, poor, wretched little Madge!\u201d thought Alie; \u201cno wonder that she\ntook the cake\u2014no wonder if she grow up miserable and wicked! She does\nnot know about God\u2014she does not know that He made her\u2014that He watches\nover her\u2014that He hates sin, and will punish it! What will become of her\nin this world? what will become of her in the next?\u201d\n\nWhen her brother Johnny came home from the fields, Alie told him of the\nlittle gipsy girl.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve heard of the gipsies,\u201d said he; \u201cthey\u2019ve pitched their tent down\nyon lane, and the farmer says that he must keep a good look-out after\nhis poultry. There\u2019s a big woman, and an ill-looking man with a fur cap\nand a patch over his eye, who offers to mend kettles and pans. Farmer\nsays he\u2019s sure the fellow has seen the inside of many a jail, and hopes\nthe party won\u2019t stay long in the place.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE GIPSIES.]\n\n\u201cPoor little Madge! it\u2019s not her fault that she is the child of such\npeople!\u201d said Alie.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019ll not get much good from them, I take it. She\u2019ll learn to tell\nfalsehoods like her mother, and to steal like her father, and perhaps\nend her days in prison,\u201d observed Johnny.\n\nAlie was silent for some time. Her fingers were now busily hemming a\nseam, but her thoughts were far away from her work. At last she said\nsoftly, as if to herself, \u201cAnd yet that poor child is precious!\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecious to her parents! I don\u2019t believe it!\u201d exclaimed Johnny. \u201cShe\nlooks as though they half starved her; and didn\u2019t you see the bruises on\nher bare arms? I don\u2019t believe they\u2019d care if she died in a ditch.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is precious in the eyes of the Lord,\u201d murmured Alie. \u201cThat poor\nlittle girl has a soul!\u201d\n\nJohnny did not answer for some time; and when he did so, it was with a\nforced lightness of manner. \u201cI don\u2019t see what you and I have to do with\nthe matter, Alie; we are not the little beggar\u2019s keepers!\u201d\n\n\u201c_I am not my brother\u2019s keeper_: I have read these words somewhere in\nthe Bible,\u201d said Alie; \u201cbut I can\u2019t at this moment remember what part of\nit they come from.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t you?\u201d replied Johnny; \u201cwhy, they were the words of Cain, when he\nwas asked about his brother Abel.\u201d\n\nThere was another long silence.\n\n\u201cI wonder,\u201d exclaimed Alie, clasping her hands, \u201cif we could do nothing\nto save that poor child?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can do nothing, at least,\u201d replied Johnny, and went whistling out of\nthe house.\n\nBut Alie\u2019s mind was not so easily satisfied. She was one of those who\nhave learned, from such solemn verses as that which stands at the\ncommencement of my tale, that there is sin not only in doing the things\nwhich we ought not to do, but in _leaving undone_ the things which we\nought to do; and _doth not He that pondereth the heart consider it_? She\nknew that it is the duty, and ought to be the delight, of every\nChristian to help others on in the road to heaven, or lending good\nbooks, or assisting with the purse such valuable societies as have been\nformed to carry out this holy work.\n\nAlie thought at first of watching for an opportunity when Madge might\nagain pass the door, and giving to her a little copy of the \u201cYoung\nCottager,\u201d which she had earned as a prize at school. But common sense\n(and common sense should always be taken into our council whenever we\ntry to do good) showed her great objections to this. Madge could not\nread the book, nor understand it even if she could read. She was so\nignorant, that whoever would teach her must begin with the very simplest\nform of instruction.\n\nAlie dared not go to the gipsy tent: she was afraid of the woman, and\nyet more of the man; nor did she think that her mother would like her to\nvisit those who bore such evil characters. Much did Alie wish that she\ncould consult her mother, ever her best and wisest friend; but Mrs.\nMorris was at this time absent from home. Alie was not sufficiently at\nher ease with her uncle to speak to him on the subject; and as for her\nbrother Johnny, he cared nothing at all about the matter.\n\nMany children in Alie\u2019s place would have given up all idea of helping\nthe gipsy girl, as a thing quite out of their power to do, and would\nhave rested contented with the thought that this work was not intended\nfor them. But Alie, timid and gentle as she was, was not one to be\neasily discouraged where her pity and her conscience were concerned. She\nremembered how the attention of Madge had been attracted by her pretty\nwhite kitten. Might not that kitten serve as a lure to draw the child a\nlittle way from the tent? There was a spot well known to Alie, where an\nold thorn-tree grew at the meeting of two lanes; it was about midway\nbetween the village and the place where the tent was pitched, and in\nsight of both. Alie thought that she might venture thus far, and seek to\nwin an interview with the poor gipsy girl. There was one great\ndifficulty in her way, at which the reader perhaps may smile: the old\nthorn could not be reached without passing the carrier\u2019s little yard,\nand the tenant of this yard was a large, fierce dog! True, the dog was\nchained; but Alie never felt as if iron or brass could stand the force\nof his sudden spring; and the sound of his low growl, and sharp, short\nbark, was to her terrible as the voice of a lion!\n\n\u201cJohnny,\u201d said Alie, \u201cI wish that you would go a little way with me this\nevening; just as far as the thorn where the two roads meet.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you want your fortune told, Alie?\u201d replied Johnny, looking up with a\nsaucy smile.\n\n\u201cNo; but I wish to speak to little Madge, if you would only walk beside\nme so far.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I wish you may get me!\u201d exclaimed Johnny, chucking up a penny.\n\u201cI\u2019ll have nothing to do with those beggarly gipsies!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I go at all, I must go alone!\u201d thought Alie; and alone she resolved\nto go! She saved a piece of bread from her own dinner, and wrapping up\nher white kitten in her checked apron, set out on her little expedition.\nShe repeated to herself, as she walked, one of Watts\u2019 hymns for\nchildren, which, she thought, contained much truth in very small space,\nand might easily be both learned and remembered. The sound of it, too,\nwas so pretty, that Madge could not dislike to learn that. Alie forgot\nall about the hymn, however, as she drew near the carrier\u2019s yard, and\nheard the rattle of a chain within. Almost as much afraid for her kitten\nas for herself, she pressed it closely to her bosom, and, going as near\nas she could to the opposite hedge, ran with a light, noiseless step\npast the spot; then paused to congratulate herself on the dreaded danger\nbeing over.\n\nAlie reached the thorn in the lane, and to her pleasant surprise found\nMadge seated on the ground beneath it! The tent was at some little\ndistance, though nearer than Alie liked to have it. A donkey was grazing\nbeside it, and smoke was rising from a fire kindled of brushwood, over\nwhich a kettle was boiling.\n\nI shall not dwell upon the conversation which passed between the two\nlittle girls. Alie found Madge more intelligent than she had expected;\nand the heart of the poor child, accustomed as she was to harshness and\nneglect, readily warmed towards one who seemed to take an interest in\nher welfare. Madge could not tell Alie how long the gipsies were likely\nto remain in that neighbourhood, but she eagerly agreed, as long as they\nstayed there, to meet her young friend every morning under the thorn.\n\nThe shadows were now growing long; the sun was sloping down to the west.\nA heavy step was heard along the lane, and a dark and ill-looking man\napproached, with a fur cap drawn low over his brow, and a stout\ncrab-tree cudgel in his hand. Madge started to her feet like a\nfrightened fawn, and, without a word of good-bye to her companion,\nstarted off for the tent. The man called after her in language which\nmade Alie tremble, and it was the greatest relief to her when the gipsy\nhad passed her without addressing or seeming to notice her. Again\ncarefully wrapping up her kitten in her apron, Alie turned her face\ntowards the village. As she proceeded along the lane, the distant sound\nof a sharp cry of pain coming from the direction of the tent, and then\nthe angry tones of a man\u2019s voice, thrilled to her very soul. Full of\nsorrow and pity for another, Alie never even thought of the dog, till\nstartled by a sudden bound and bark, which made her quicken her steps\ntowards her home.\n\n[Illustration: THE GIPSY\u2019S APPROACH.]\n\nMadge was now almost constantly in the thoughts of Alie. To find some\nway of helping one so unhappy, of teaching one so ignorant, of pouring\nany sweetness into a cup so bitter, became the frequent occupation of\nher mind. Alie took pleasure in mending up old things and making new\nones, reserving little dainties, contriving small surprises for the poor\ngipsy child in the lane. She searched out the most suitable verses to\nteach her, thought over improving stories to tell her, and never forgot,\nmorning and night, to pray earnestly for the unhappy little girl.\n\nAnd was all this trouble in vain? No; there was one lesson which poor\nMadge easily learned, and that was, to love her young teacher; and the\nnext step was not a very hard one\u2014to love that which she taught. It was\nglad tidings to the desolate girl to learn that there was a great and\ngood Being who cared even for her; that there was a glorious crown\nprepared even for a gipsy child; that she who had never enjoyed the\ncomfort of a home upon earth, might, after death, dwell in a bright home\nabove the skies. Alie had not yet had many opportunities of serving God,\nor benefiting her fellow-creatures; but she had _done what she could_.\nShe had sought out one wandering lamb; she had cheered one sorrowing\nheart; she had been a guide to one who had no other to win her from the\nway of misery and destruction. Oh! dear reader, could the same be said\nof you? _If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and\nthose that are ready to be slain; if thou sayest, Behold, we knew it\nnot; doth not He that pondereth the heart consider it? and He that\nkeepeth thy soul, doth not He know it? and shall not He render to every\nman according to his works?_\n\n Souls are perishing before thee\u2014\n Save, save one!\n It may be thy crown of glory,\u2014\n Save, save one!\n From the waves that would devour,\n From the raging lion\u2019s power,\n From destruction\u2019s fiery shower,\n Save, save one!\n\n Not in thine own strength confiding,\n Save, save one!\n Faith and prayer thy efforts guiding,\n Save, save one!\n None can e\u2019er, unless possessing\n Heavenly aid and heavenly blessing,\n To the work of mercy pressing,\n Save e\u2019en one!\n\n Who the worth of souls can measure?\u2014\n Save, save one!\n Who can count the priceless treasure?\n Save, save one!\n Like the stars shall shine for ever\n Those who faithfully endeavour\n Dying sinners to deliver\u2014\n Save, save one!\n\n[Illustration: [couple surrounded by leaves]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n FRIENDS IN NEED.\n\n\n \u201cHe that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord; and that which\n he hath given will He pay him again.\u201d\u2014PROV. xix. 17.\n\n\nAlie went to the place of meeting early one morning, but Madge was not\nbeneath the old thorn-tree. Alie did not hear the gipsy girl\u2019s\naccustomed greeting as she ran forward barefoot to meet her. Alie called\nher name softly, but no voice replied. She looked in the direction where\nthe tent had been pitched; the tent was gone, there was nothing now to\nobstruct her view to the very end of the green lane! Alie felt sad, and\nyet thankful. What a short time had been given to her in which she could\nserve poor Madge! But that short time had not been wasted; she had\ncaught the opportunity on the wing, before, as she believed, it had\npassed away for ever.\n\n\u201cBut I should have liked to have seen her once more. I should have liked\nto have said \u2018good-bye,\u2019 and to have given her something to keep as a\nremembrance of me,\u201d thought Alie, as she slowly walked along the lane\ntowards the blackened spot which showed where the gipsies had lighted\ntheir fire.\u2014\u201cPerhaps we shall never look on each other\u2019s faces again,\nuntil we meet before the great white throne. Oh! may we both be on the\nright hand then. She _did_ love to listen when I told her of the Lord;\nand He can keep her from temptation, and guide her to Himself. She\npromised to repeat, morn and night, that little prayer which I taught\nher. I think that she will do so, if only for my sake; for I am sure\nthat she loved me\u2014poor unhappy little Madge. Oh! if I had had time to\nteach her a few verses more.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE GREEN LANE.]\n\nAlie was startled from her reflections by a sound something between a\nsob and a cry, which came from some place near the spot where the tent\nof the gipsies had stood. She stopped, listened, and heard it again. The\nvoice was like that of one in bitter distress. Alie fancied that she\ncould distinguish her own name! Doubtless it was poor Madge who was\ncrying; but if she were there, so might her parents be also, and Alie\nwas terrified at the idea of meeting the gipsies in so lonely a spot,\nquite out of sight of any dwelling. She could see nothing of them as she\nlooked down the lane: but again and again rose that wailing cry.\n\n\u201cIt is that _fear of man_ which would keep me now from doing to others\nas I would they should do unto me,\u201d thought Alie; and, mustering all her\nresolution, she ventured further into the lane. She had not proceeded\nmany steps when she heard the voice of Madge distinctly exclaim, in\ntones of tremulous joy, \u201cOh! it is you, Alie! it is you at last! I\nthought that you would come to the thorn; but, oh, I was so afraid that\nyou would not hear my crying\u2014that you would go away, and leave me here\nto starve!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere are you?\u201d exclaimed Alie, looking about her in surprise at not\nseeing the speaker.\n\n\u201cHere\u2014up here, just at the other side of the hedge.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you come down?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t\u2014I\u2019m tied to a tree! I\u2019ve been tied all night!\u201d exclaimed the\npoor child, bursting into an agony of tears, which for some time\nprevented Alie from understanding another word which she uttered.\n\nAlie lost no time in making her way to the place. She clambered up the\nmossy bank, careless of nettles\u2014scrambled over the low briery hedge on\nthe top\u2014and beyond it, fastened to the trunk of a tree she found the\nunhappy Madge, pale, exhausted with crying and want of rest, her arms\nchafed by the cord which bound her, and which she had vainly struggled\nto break. Happily Alie had a knife in her pocket, or she could never\nhave unloosed the tightened knots. The moment that Madge was free, she\nfell sobbing into the arms of her deliverer.\n\n\u201cHow cruel! oh, how cruel to bind you so!\u201d exclaimed Alie; \u201cwhat had you\ndone to make them so angry?\u201d\n\n\u201cI had done nothing!\u201d cried Madge between her sobs. \u201cPerhaps they wanted\nto keep me from going after them: they need not have been afraid\u2014I\u2019d\nhave given no trouble!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think that they mean to come back soon?\u201d said Alie, glancing\ntimidly around.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think so,\u201d replied the girl. \u201cThey would not tell me where they\nwere going, nor let me see which way they went. It was all done so\nquick! Father came home late yesterday, and said something to\nmother\u2014something about being found out; mother started, seemed afraid,\nand pointed to me. Then they whispered together\u2014looking at me every\nminute; and then they pulled down the tent, and packed up all in haste;\nand before they left, father tied me up here, and said he\u2019d beat me if I\nmade any noise.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s come to my home,\u201d said Alie, \u201cand ask mother what\u2019s to be done.\nYou must want a little breakfast sadly, and a little rest too, poor,\npoor Madge!\u201d\n\nBefore many minutes were over the gipsy girl was seated at Mrs. Morris\u2019s\ndeal table with a basin of warm bread and milk before her, feeling\nsomething like a traveller after a stormy voyage, when he has cast\nanchor in a haven at last. When Madge\u2019s hunger was satisfied, Alie led\nher to her own little crib, where the poor child soon fell into a\nrefreshing sleep.\n\nGreat was the wrath, great the indignation of Jonas, the old sailor,\nwhen, on returning from his morning stroll, he heard from his sister the\nstory of Madge. The idea of a helpless and innocent child being thus\nmaltreated and abandoned, roused all the lion in his soul. Down came his\nbrown fist with startling violence on the table\u2014as with hearty good-will\nhe might have laid it on the gipsy; and a torrent of fierce abuse was\nabout to pour from his lips, when, recollecting his resolution, he\npressed them together with a mighty effort, and suffered his indignation\nto escape only through his flashing eyes.\n\n\u201cIt is evident,\u201d said Mrs. Morris, \u201cthat they have found the poor child\na burden, and so, hoping that she has made friends in this village, they\nhave gone off and left her, taking care that no one should be able to\ntrace them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are\u2014\u201d commenced the sailor fiercely, then closed his lips tightly\nagain.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d continued Mrs. Morris, \u201cthe difficulty is how to dispose of\nthis poor child. Notwithstanding all my efforts, I find it no easy\nmatter in these hard times to maintain my own family, and send Johnny\nand Alie to school. I do not see how it would be possible for me to\nundertake the support of another child.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, mother,\u201d said Johnny, who was present, \u201cwhat will you do with\npoor Madge?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not see what I can do,\u201d replied his mother, \u201cbut send her at once\nto the workhouse.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe workhouse!\u201d exclaimed Johnny.\n\n\u201cThe workhouse!\u201d echoed Alie. \u201cOh, mother, I\u2019d work my fingers to the\nbone rather than send poor Madge away! She can share my dinner, my\nbreakfast, my bed.\u201d\n\nMrs. Morris gravely shook her head; but Alie was too earnest to be\neasily discouraged.\n\n\u201cI could earn something\u2014I really could, mother! You know that Mrs. Mant\nsaid that I might help her in mending!\u201d and the little girl looked\nimploringly into the face of her mother.\n\n\u201cMy dear child, what you could earn would not supply Madge with enough\nof food to keep life in.\u201d\n\n\u201cI could get something for chopping firewood,\u201d began Johnny, and then\nstopped short; \u201cbut I hate the trouble, and shouldn\u2019t much like to tie\nmyself up to do it! \u2019Twouldn\u2019t do to begin and not go on, I take it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t do at all,\u201d replied Mrs. Morris.\n\nJonas sat in profound thought, appearing as though he were making some\ndeep calculation on his fingers. The truth is that the old seaman had as\nwarm a heart and as strong a desire to help the outcast as any one\npresent; but his means of doing so were very small. Much the greater\npart of his little pension was regularly paid to his sister, to cover\nthe necessary expenses of the sailor\u2019s board and lodging; and what Jonas\nreserved for himself was such a mere trifle that it barely sufficed to\nsupply him with clothing, and replenish his little tobacco pouch. But\nhe, like Alie, was disposed to regard the desolate stranger as one whom\nthe Almighty had committed to their protection, and the idea of sending\nher away to the workhouse was repugnant to his kindly nature. Jonas\nturned over and over in his mind the means of supporting the child until\nshe should be able to do something for herself, and at length he came to\na decision.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he muttered half to himself, \u201cyes, that\u2019s the thing! \u2019Twill cost\nme something maybe at first; but it\u2019s right, and I\u2019ll do it! The gipsy\nlass shall have my pipe!\u201d\n\nThe children could not forbear laughing. \u201cLittle use she could make of\nit!\u201d cried Johnny.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the way with you younkers,\u201d said Jonas rather pettishly; \u201cyou\nnever know how to put two and two together. What\u2019s a pipe without\n\u2019bacco, and how\u2019s \u2019bacco to be had without money?\u201d he continued, raising\nhis voice;\u2014\u201cthe money that buys \u2019bacco for me would buy bread for the\ngipsy; and your little earnings, my lass,\u201d he added, turning to Alie,\n\u201cput on the top of my savings, might serve to keep the little boat\nafloat, without running it on the rough shore of a workhouse.\u201d\n\nAlie clapped her hands in delight. The eye of Mrs. Morris glistened. \u201cMy\ndear brother,\u201d said she, \u201cI won\u2019t be behind you in this labour of love.\nIf you think of making such a sacrifice\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThink!\u201d cried Jonas bluffly, \u201cit\u2019s not thinking, but doing!\u201d and,\nstumping up to the fireplace with an air of resolution, he again took\nhis pipe from its place and deliberately snapped it in two! but could\nnot refrain from a sigh as he looked on the broken pieces.\n\n\u201cYou need not have broken it,\u201d observed Johnny; \u201c\u2019twould have done no\nmischief where it was.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Twould have been a temptation,\u201d replied Jonas, rubbing his chin;\n\u201c\u2019twould ha\u2019 been always putting me in mind of a want. If I hadn\u2019t broke\nmy pipe, maybe I\u2019d ha\u2019 broke my resolution.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will miss it sadly, I fear,\u201d said Mrs. Morris.\n\nHow much the poor old sailor missed his accustomed indulgence can only\nbe guessed by those who have, like him, formed a habit of smoking till\nthe pipe seems as necessary as daily food. It is a habit which I hope\nthat none of my young readers will adopt; the expense of it being one of\nits least disadvantages. But Jonas had been accustomed to smoke from his\nyouth; he looked to his pipe as to his comfort and companion, and, in\ngiving it up, he sacrificed really more than a lady would in putting\ndown her carriage, or a sportsman in selling off his hounds. Therefore\nhis pence were a nobler offering than their hundreds of guineas would\nhave been.\n\nMadge was now the happy inmate of a home, whose simple comforts appeared\nluxuries to her. Its inmates vied with each other in showing her\nkindness. Except in school-time, or when she was at meals, Alie\u2019s little\nhands were busy from morning till night; and even Johnny tried his skill\nin cobbling a very old pair of his sister\u2019s shoes for Madge, and\nsucceeded, more to his own admiration, it must be owned, than to that of\nany one else. Madge was now made neat and clean, her hair cut and\nbrushed, her rags mended; and the change in her appearance was so great\nthat Jonas said, looking at her with quiet satisfaction, that \u201che should\nnot ha\u2019 known the lass.\u201d There was a bright, happy expression now in\nMadge\u2019s blue eyes, and she did not start when suddenly addressed, as if\nshe were afraid of being struck.\n\nAnd if the outward change was so great, there was every probability that\nthe inward would be yet more striking. Madge was docile and willing to\nbe taught, and she could not be long under the roof of Mrs. Morris\nwithout receiving knowledge of the best and highest kind. The\ndistinctions between right and wrong, truth and falsehood, honesty and\ntheft, were becoming daily more and more clear to the child; and she was\ngradually learning that which would give her the strongest motive for\nrefusing the evil and choosing the good.\n\nMadge had not been many days in her new home, when, to the surprise of\nthe little family, then assembled round the dinner-table, a post-chaise\nstopped at the entrance. A gentleman dressed in black, with a paper in\nhis hand, descended from the vehicle, and, after tapping at the door,\nthough it stood open on account of the heat of the weather, walked\nstraight into the kitchen.\n\n\u201cBeg pardon\u2014pray don\u2019t move,\u201d said he, waving his hand slightly, as the\nfamily rose at his entrance. \u201cMay I ask if your name is Morris?\u201d he\ncontinued, first glancing at his paper, then at Alie\u2019s mother.\n\nWondering, and half alarmed at the unexpected visit, Mrs. Morris only\nanswered by dropping a little courtesy; while Jonas muttered something\nabout \u201cland-shark,\u201d which it was intended no one should hear.\n\n\u201cI thought so\u2014hum!\u201d said the lawyer, for such he was. \u201cI have been\ndirected to you as one who might give me some information as to the\nmovements of a party of gipsies, upon whose track I have been for the\nlast ten days.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, sir, I know little about them,\u201d replied Mrs. Morris. \u201cSome\ngipsies were in this neighbourhood about a week ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they made all sail last Thursday night,\u201d joined in the sailor.\n\n\u201cA tall woman, and a man with a patch over his eye,\u201d said the lawyer,\nexamining his paper.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s \u2019em,\u201d cried Jonas; \u201can ill-looking pair, and a sight worse than\nthey look.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you tell me in which direction they went?\u201d said the stranger,\naddressing himself to the sailor.\n\n\u201cNot I, sir,\u201d replied honest Jonas.\n\n\u201cThey have a child with them, have they not\u2014a little girl?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey had a child, sir, but they tied her up like a dog, and left her\nbehind when they made off.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed the lawyer eagerly; \u201cand have you any knowledge where\nshe may be now?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should think that I have, seeing she\u2019s just alongside,\u201d cried Jonas,\nlooking round for poor Madge, who, alarmed at finding herself the\nsubject of conversation, had slunk behind her little friend Alie.\n\nAll the lawyer\u2019s attention was now turned towards Madge. He fixed his\npiercing gaze upon the timid child, questioned and cross-questioned her\nwithout mercy, not only about events which had happened recently, but,\nas it appeared to Johnny and Alie, about everything that could possibly\nhave occurred in the whole course of a gipsy\u2019s life. The dinner on the\ntable was becoming quite cold; but the stranger had as little apparent\nregard for the hunger of the family as he had for the feelings of Madge.\nHe wrote down most of the replies which he drew from her shy, reluctant\nlips, and concluded by proposing that she should accompany him in the\npost-chaise, as there was very important business connected with the\nchild.\n\nThis was too much for poor Madge. She clung tightly to Alie, and,\nbursting into tears, begged that she might not be sent away.\n\n\u201cBut if I were to take you to a fine house and fine friends, my dear?\u201d\nsaid the lawyer, in an insinuating tone. \u201cI may tell you that you were\nnot born a gipsy; nor were those who deserted you your real parents. You\nwere stolen long ago by those who have passed you off as their child.\nYour mother, Mrs. Everard, has been anxiously searching after you for\nyears, and joyful indeed will she be to find that our search has at last\nbeen successful.\u201d\n\nAlie and Johnny gave exclamations of pleasure and surprise, Jonas was\nstartled into uttering a whistle, but Madge scarcely understood the good\nnews\u2014she still clung to her early friend, and sobbed out that she didn\u2019t\nwant to go away, she wouldn\u2019t go away with that man!\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the lawyer, with a smile, after a few vain attempts to coax\nher into confidence, \u201cit is evident that she is both safe and contented\nwhere she now is. Let her remain here for the present, till her mother\ncan come herself and claim her stray lamb from those who have so\nhospitably afforded her shelter and protection.\u201d\n\nIt would be difficult to describe all the talking, wondering, guessing,\nwhich went on in Mrs. Morris\u2019s dwelling after the lawyer had driven from\nher door. The news spread like wild-fire through the village; all kinds\nof additions were made to a story in itself sufficiently strange; and\nthe kitchen was soon filled to overflowing with neighbours eager for\nnews. Before night came, the patience of Jonas was fairly tired out by\ninsatiable questioners; and his pipe, had he still possessed one, would\nhave been in imminent peril. The person who appeared least excited and\ndelighted was poor little Madge herself, who would rather have been told\nthat she might remain with Alie and her mother to the end of her days,\nthan that she was to live in a palace and be the daughter of a queen.\nShe was like a weary, wounded bird, that has found a peaceful nest; and\nshe was too young and ignorant to understand all the reasons that might\nmake it an advantage to her to quit it for another.\n\nBut Madge was a very happy girl the next day, when she found herself in\nthe arms of a mother\u2014a _real_ mother\u2014one who, with love and joy\nstreaming from her eyes, pressed her long lost darling close and closer\nto her heart, as though she would hold her there for ever. With feelings\nof natural delicacy, Mrs. Morris and her family retired to Jonas\u2019s\nlittle room, and closed the door, not to intrude by their presence on\nthe intense joy of a parent at such a meeting. What the lady said to\nMadge, or Madge to the lady, they therefore never knew; but what account\nthe child had given of the generous kindness of her friends was easily\nto be seen when, at her mother\u2019s desire, she called them to speak to\nher. Mrs. Everard grasped the hand of Mrs. Morris with deep emotion;\nthanked her with tears in her eyes; and insisted on her accepting from\nher, as an acknowledgment of her debt, a sum which would have covered\npoor Madge\u2019s expenses for years! The lady had brought her carriage half\nfull of presents for the children; beautiful books, choice sweetmeats\nand cakes\u2014never before had the plain deal table been loaded with such a\nheap of good things! Alie found herself dressed from head to foot in\nnicer clothes than she ever had worn; for Madge insisted on her putting\nthem on at once, that she might see how Alie looked in them, and laughed\nand clapped her hands with delight, as though this were to her the\ngreatest treat of all. Johnny felt almost ashamed to accept the numerous\npresents; he felt that he had so little deserved them\u2014he had done so\nlittle, sacrificed so little, to promote the comfort of the stranger.\n\nSuddenly a thought seemed to cross the mind of Madge, which cast a\nmomentary shade over her bright little face. She ran up to her mother,\nlaid hold on her arm with childish eagerness, and, pointing to old\nJonas, who was looking with hearty enjoyment on the scene before him,\nexclaimed in an audible whisper, \u201cHave you brought nothing for him?\u201d\n\n\u201cBlessings on the lass!\u201d cried the honest sailor; \u201cI want nothing but\nsuch a sight as this! \u2019Tis as good as the view of the old white cliffs\nto the homeward-bound!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was so kind\u2014so very kind,\u201d continued Madge, without noticing the\ninterruption; \u201che broke his pipe, and gave up all his smoking, that I\nmight not be sent to the workhouse. Alie told me he did, and Alie always\nsays true; and he ought to have some of the cake.\u201d\n\nThe conclusion of Madge\u2019s speech set all the party laughing\u2014Jonas\nlaughing the loudest of all. Mrs. Everard put her arm fondly around her\nlittle girl. \u201cPerhaps we could think of something that our good friend\nwould like still better than cake,\u201d she said, gently.\n\nMadge looked wistfully at Alie, her usual counsellor as well as friend.\nSuddenly her face brightened. \u201cI know! I know!\u201d she exclaimed; \u201cI once\nheard him say he wished he\u2019d a glass like those on board a ship, and\nhe\u2019d show us the hills a long way off, and the mountains in the moon\nbeside.\u201d\n\n\u201cA telescope he shall have,\u201d said Mrs. Everard, \u201cand one of the best\nthat can be made.\u201d\n\nThe lady was as good as her word, and the sailor the next day became the\nhappy owner of that which it had long been his wish to possess, though\nthat such a wish should ever be gratified had never entered into the\ngood man\u2019s calculations.\n\n\u201cIt seems so strange,\u201d whispered Alie to Madge, \u201cso very strange, that\nwe should be so thanked and rewarded for such little acts of kindness. I\ndon\u2019t believe that such a thing ever happened before.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy child, you are mistaken,\u201d said Mrs. Everard, who chanced to hear the\nobservation; \u201cmore wondrous things are happening every day\u2014things of\nwhich the present scene is like a type. The poorest, weakest little one\nwho suffers on earth, and needs the hand of Christian kindness, is the\nchild of a Parent infinitely rich, infinitely great, who deigns to\nnotice, and who will a thousand-fold reward, the smallest kindness shown\nfor His sake. Nothing given in charity is ever lost; no effort made for\ncharity is ever forgotten. _Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of\nthese My brethren, ye did it unto Me_, are the words of Him who holds in\nHis hands all the treasures of earth and heaven. We may not, perhaps,\nsee in this world\u2014but assuredly we shall see in the next\u2014that however\nworthless in themselves our services may be, the Almighty condescends to\naccept them; and that, _he that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the\nLord, and that which he hath given will He pay him again_.\u201d\n\n Help the poor who need your aid,\n Help with silver and with gold.\n Ye whom God hath stewards made.\n In your hands His wealth to hold.\n\n Help the poor by kindly deed;\n Hands in willing service move,\n Clothe the bare, the hungry feed,\n Weary ne\u2019er in acts of love.\n\n Help the poor by kindly word;\n Comfort, counsel, wisely given,\n Such by wandering sinners heard.\n May those sinners lead to heaven.\n\n Help the poor by earnest prayer\u2014\n Lift your heart unto the Lord;\n He alone can bless your care,\n Make success its rich reward.\n\n Gifts, words, works, and prayers shall yet\n Bring the Christian harvest sure;\n God will not your love forget:\n Blessed he that helps the poor.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n THE OLD PAUPER.\n\n\n \u201cThe foolishness of man perverteth his way; and his heart fretteth\n against the Lord.\u201d\u2014PROV. xix. 3.\n\n\n\u201cIt is very very hard in one\u2019s old age to be driven to poverty, to be\nneglected by one\u2019s friends, forsaken by one\u2019s children\u2014left to wear out\na weary life in a hateful place like this!\u201d\n\nSuch were the words of a miserable old man, who, bedridden and helpless,\nwas pouring out his complaint to a humane visitor at the workhouse.\n\n\u201cBut, my friend,\u201d replied the lady, \u201cwe must remember that these trials\nare sent by a gracious and merciful God, who _does not afflict\nwillingly, nor grieve the children of men_.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD PAUPER.]\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s all very well for those to talk who don\u2019t know what trouble\nmeans,\u201d said old Sam Butler, in a tone of peevish irritability. \u201cWhere\nis the mercy shown to me? I was once a strong, hearty young man\u2014none\nbetter at cricket or at football; and now I can\u2019t so much as creep\nacross this hateful room! I had once my own well-stocked shop, with the\ncustomers thronging in and out like bees; and now, but for the\nworkhouse, I shouldn\u2019t have a roof over my head! I was once surrounded\nby a wife and children\u2014a thriving, goodly family; and now my wife\u2019s in\nher grave, and the children scattered over the world, and there\u2019s not\none of them that so much as cares to inquire whether the old man\u2019s dead\nor alive! Oh! it\u2019s very hard! it\u2019s very very hard!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there are some comforts and hopes of which neither old age nor\nsickness, neither man\u2019s neglect nor poverty can ever deprive us.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t talk to me!\u201d cried the old pauper, angrily. \u201cI know all that\nyou\u2019re going to say, but there\u2019s neither comfort nor hope to me in these\nthings. I never found any in my better days, and I\u2019m not likely to find\nany now!\u201d\n\nThe visitor looked shocked and distressed. She felt anxious to speak a\nmessage of peace to the wretched old man; but his bitterness of spirit\nand rebellion of will made her find it difficult to address him.\nThinking that to reflect on the trials of others might divert his mind\nfrom his own, or give him an indirect lesson on resignation under them,\nshe said, after a few moments\u2019 hesitation, \u201cI have recently been\nvisiting one who has known much affliction\u2014a poor man of the name of\nCharles Hayes\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cCharles Hayes!\u201d interrupted the pauper; \u201cas if I did not know him!\u2014my\nschoolfellow when I was a boy, and my neighbour for twenty long years! I\nalways said he would come to the workhouse\u2014what with his bad health and\nhis silly scruples about turning an honest penny; thinking everything\nwrong which did not square with his odd notions, and helping others when\nhe had scarcely enough for himself! I always said he would come to the\nworkhouse. And yet, see what a world this is!\u201d continued Butler with a\nburst of indignation; \u201cno sooner is he quite laid on the shelf than the\ngentry take to petting and pampering him as if he were one of\nthemselves! The squire gets him into an alms-house, the ladies send him\nblankets and broth, the parson takes a pleasure in visiting him, and he\nis watched day and night with as much care as if he were one of the\nlords of the land!\u201d\n\n\u201cWatched by an orphan whom he had generously brought up.\u201d\n\n\u201cOther people have brought up children,\u201d cried the pauper, with\nsomething like a groan, \u201cand have had no comfort in them. Charles Hayes\nhad never a child of his own, but he finds one like a daughter by his\nsick-bed; he has always been poor, but now in his age I don\u2019t believe\nthat he wants for anything\u2014a friend seems to meet him wherever he turns;\nand they say that in spite of his weakness and pain he calls himself\ncontented and happy! Oh! this is a bad world!\u2014a miserable world! Why\nshould his lot be so different from mine? Why should he have peace, and\nI have nothing but trouble? Why should his friends stick by him, and all\nmine forsake me? Why, when I am wearing out my days in a workhouse,\nshould he rest in a home of his own?\u201d\n\nAn answer was on the visitor\u2019s lips, but consideration for the feelings\nof the pauper prevented her from uttering it aloud\u2014\u201cBecause _the\nblessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow\ntherewith_.\u201d There would have been no use in attempting to point out to\nthe repining old man how godliness, even in this world, brings its\nreward; nor did the lady know enough of the events of Butler\u2019s life to\nbe aware how completely his present miseries were the natural\nconsequences of his own conduct. Self had ever been his first object; to\ngratify self had been the business of his life. He had not served God in\nthe time of his health; he could not look to God in the hour of his\nhelplessness and need. He had done nothing to benefit man, and man cared\nnothing for him now, though compassion might bring a few, like the\nvisitor at the workhouse, to spend some minutes beside him as a\ndisagreeable duty.\n\nYet Sam Butler had set out in life with no bad prospects. Blessed with\ncheerful spirits, buoyant health, a fair education and good name, and\nsettled in a comfortable situation, he seemed likely to do well in the\nworld, and spend a very prosperous life.\n\nThe first great mistake which Butler made was that of marrying for\nmoney. His master was old and infirm, and willing to give up his\nbusiness whenever his only daughter should marry one able to assist her\nin carrying it on. Betsy was neither pleasing in person nor agreeable in\nmanner. She was proud, passionate, and self-willed, with a heart utterly\nworldly, in which piety had never found a place. Sam cared nothing for\nher, but he cared much for the shop; and, regardless of the command to\nmarry _only in the Lord_, he vowed to love and cherish until death a\nwoman whom he secretly despised. Degraded in his own eyes by his worldly\nmarriage, Butler was not long in discovering that he had sold his\nhappiness for gold. The comfort of a cheerful, peaceful home, was never\nto be his. Whenever he crossed his own threshold, the first sound which\nstruck his ears was the voice of peevishness and ill-temper. What wonder\nif he often passed his evenings at places which it would have been\nbetter for him if he had never entered, and sought elsewhere for that\nenjoyment which by his own hearth he never could find!\n\nAt this time Charles Hayes was the near neighbour of Sam Butler. He was\nunited to one who, like himself, was serving God with a humble heart,\nand a cheerful, contented spirit. If Charles\u2019s home was lowly, it was\npeaceful; if he had little of this world\u2019s goods, he had few of its\ncares: labour and poverty might be his lot, but piety and love sweetened\nall.\n\nBut affliction, from which even the most faithful servants of God are\nnot exempted, was sent to the cottage of Charles Hayes. His beloved\npartner was suddenly called to her rest. Sore was the trial to the\nChristian, when he stood by the grave of the young wife who had been\ndearer to him than all the world beside, and who was worthy of all his\naffection. But his was a sorrow _not without hope_. He looked forward,\neven when grief bowed his heart to the dust, to a blessed reunion in a\nland where parting shall never be known; though divided from his wife by\ndeath, he could think of her as \u201cnot lost, but gone before;\u201d and when\ntime had mellowed the sharpness of his pain, there was no earthly\npleasure for which he would have exchanged the sweet remembrance of\nyears spent in happiness with one who was now an angel in heaven!\n\nSam Butler had a family, and, as he would proudly say, there were no\nchildren in all the village so healthy and handsome as his own. He was\nby no means wanting in parental affection; and it was a pleasing sight\nto see him in the evening, when the day\u2019s business was over, with one\nlaughing little one perched on his shoulder, and another holding fast to\nhis hand, chasing the third down a daisy-mottled slope, while the\nneighbourhood rang with the sound of their mirth. Sam made great\nprojects for his children, and built for them castles in the air without\nend. Patrick was to get a grand education\u2014perhaps go to the bar,\ndistinguish himself by his talents, and rise to the highest honours.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll see you Chancellor yet!\u201d the proud father would cry, clapping his\nboy on the back, when the little fellow, who was sharp and ready of wit,\nhad said something more flippant than usual.\n\nDan, according to Butler\u2019s plans, should keep the shop\u2014make money with\nwonderful success\u2014go to London, and in time become an alderman\u2014feast\nupon turtle, entertain princes, and perhaps end by being elected Lord\nMayor! As for Nina, his beautiful little Nina, Butler had still wilder\nspeculations for her.\n\nBut there was one thing which Butler had left out of all his\ncalculations. He never remembered that \u201cman proposes, but God disposes;\u201d\nand that the blessing of the Almighty alone could make his children\neither prosperous or happy. He neglected to _train up his children in\nthe way in which they should go_; or rather, he himself led his children\nin the way in which they should _not_ go; and when old, they did not\ndepart from it.\n\nCharles Hayes came to Butler one day, drawing along with him, by a firm\ngrasp on the shoulder, the half-resisting, terrified Patrick, who, with\nlips blackened with cherries, and pockets dropping gooseberries, stood\nbefore his father the picture of a self-convicted thief.\n\n\u201cI am very sorry to say,\u201d began Charles, \u201cthat I have found your boy in\nmy garden, and, I fear, not for the first time. I thought it best to\nbring him at once to his father, that he may receive from you such a\npunishment as may make him a better and more honest boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Butler, carelessly, \u201cI\u2019m sorry he has done mischief in your\ngarden, neighbour; but it\u2019s the nature of boys to love fruit. We must\nremember that we were children once.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not the fruit that I care for,\u201d said Charles; \u201cbut it grieves me\nto see the sin. Every river was a brook once, every oak an acorn; and\nthe boy who steals unheeded a cherry from a tree may end his days in\nprison as a thief!\u201d\n\nSam chucked his boy under the chin, told him to mind what he had heard,\nand turned away with some jesting remark about the ease with which those\nwho have no children of their own can manage the children of others.\n\n\u201c_He that spareth the rod hateth his son_,\u201d thought Charles Hayes, as he\nslowly returned to his cottage.\n\nButler\u2019s shop was one in which a variety of cakes and sweetmeats were\nsold, and he invariably kept it open on Sundays. \u201cI make more on that\nday than on any other day in the week,\u201d he used to say. \u201cNo one but a\nfool would beggar himself for the sake of idle scruples I keep my\nconscience in my till!\u201d\n\nButler\u2019s shop was, indeed, more full than usual on that day which we\nhave been commanded to _keep holy_. And did he benefit by disobedience?\nHe certainly thought that he did. His Nina dressed more gaily, his own\ntable was better supplied, his boys had more sports, he was enabled\nhimself to drink deeper, than if, like his neighbour, he had devoted his\nSabbaths to rest and religion. But was he really the better for his\nunhallowed gains?\u2014were his wife or his children the better? Oh, no! the\nexample which he set, the company which he kept, were surely and not\nslowly corrupting and destroying the source of even his earthly\nhappiness. We have read of a Spanish general who was so fond of money\nthat the enemies into whose hands he had fallen tortured and killed him\nby pouring melted gold down his throat, in mockery of his covetousness!\nSo Satan now often makes money unlawfully acquired the very means of\ntormenting the miserable beings who have sold their conscience to obtain\nit. There is no blessing on it, no blessing can be expected with it, and\nit is not only at the judgment-day that ill-gotten wealth shall crush\nits owner beneath its weight!\n\nButler had gradually acquired in the taverns, to which he had been\ndriven by the temper of his wife, a taste for spirituous liquors. He was\nwhat is called \u201ca jovial fellow;\u201d and if his Sunday mornings were spent\nin business, his Sunday evenings were spent in revels. He was fond of\nplacing his little Dan on the table, and calling for a song from the\nchild; and then, when the boy had set all present in a roar of laughter\nby his fun, would reward him by giving him a sip from the brimming glass\nwhich he himself loved too well. Poor boy! it had been better for him if\nit had been poison that passed his lips!\n\nNina, too, was brought forward to be admired and flattered by her\nfather\u2019s Sunday guests, and to have the seeds of folly and vanity\nplanted in a soil which was but too ready to receive them.\n\nWhile Butler\u2019s children were yet young, their mother died. Her death was\nlittle regretted by her husband; and yet it proved to him no small\nmisfortune. Her temper had made his home uncomfortable, but she had\npreserved in it something like order and regularity. She had had some\ninfluence over her children; and though she had never used it to implant\nin their young minds those principles which might have survived herself,\nand guided them to virtue and happiness, yet that influence had been\nsome restraint, at least, on their outward conduct. Now all curb upon\nthem was taken away. They became each year more ungovernable and wild;\ntheir extravagance emptied the purse of their father much faster than\nhis gains could fill it. If the sin of Sabbath-breaking made money seem\nto flow readily into it, other sins, to which Sabbath-breaking gave\nrise, made holes for that money to flow through. Butler became a poorer\nand poorer man. He drank more, to drown thought, and so hastened the\nruin which he dreaded. He became so irregular in his habits that all\nrespectable customers gave him up. Companions he had still, but friends\nhe had none. He had trifled with his health, now it failed him; and\nneither of his sons, though intelligent youths, were sufficiently steady\nand regular to be fitted to take his place in the shop. Butler fell,\ngradually fell, from one stage of ruin to another. He saw all his\ncomforts one by one disappear. A blight, a mildew was upon his fair\nhopes; a worm was at the root of his joys. He lived to see his daughter,\nonce his pride, make a silly marriage, without his consent, to a\nworthless, dissipated soldier, who carried her away to a distant land,\nwhere her father never heard of her more. He lived to see his boys grow\nup unprincipled men, undutiful sons,\u2014the one a drunkard, the other a\nthief! He lived to see his home in the hands of a stranger, and to be\nhimself, in his old age, compelled to seek the dreary shelter of a\nworkhouse.\n\nBitterly Butler murmured against the decrees of Providence, which he\nbelieved had brought him to misery. Bitterly he complained of poverty\nand desertion, and the feebleness of a broken constitution. And yet he\nwas but reaping as he had sowed! Self-indulgence, self-will,\nself-worship, were but bearing their natural fruit; and what Butler\ncalled his misfortunes were but the first instalment of the miserable\n_wages of sin. The foolishness of man perverteth his way; and his heart\nfretteth against the Lord._\n\n There are no chains that bind\n So close as chains of sin;\n There are no foes we find\n So stern as foes within.\n God may send pain and loss\n To those whom most He loves;\n But heavier far than such a cross\n The sinner\u2019s burden proves!\n\n \u2019Tis guilt that barbs the dart,\n \u2019Tis guilt that binds the cord;\n Yet the deceiving heart\n Will fret against the Lord!\n When mirth in anguish ends,\n Man dreads the truth to own\n That from the Lord all good descends,\n Despair from sin alone!\n\n[Illustration: [windmill]]\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n THE BEAUTIFUL VILLA.\n\n\n \u201cFavour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the\n Lord, she shall be praised.\u201d\u2014PROV. xxxi. 20.\n\n\nJessy Warner stood before a pier-glass, gazing on the image reflected in\nit with silent delight. And truly the image was a very pretty one,\nthough perhaps not all the world would have admired it as much as the\nvain young lady. She had twined a wreath of flowers in her luxuriant\ntresses, and smoothed every ringlet till it lay on her fair neck bright\nas burnished gold. She was smiling at the form in the mirror, which\nsmiled again, displaying an even row of pearly teeth; and Jessy was\nevidently too much charmed with her occupation to give a thought to the\npile of lesson-books which lay unopened on the table, or the unfinished\njacket beside it, which her lazy little fingers had failed in a whole\nmonth to complete.\n\nMrs. Warner entered unobserved by Jessy, and that which made the young\ndaughter smile cost the mother a sigh.\n\n\u201cMy poor child is so much engaged in contemplating her own pretty face,\nthat everything else is neglected and forgotten!\u201d Such were the\nreflections of Mrs. Warner. \u201cOh, how shall I teach her the comparative\nworthlessness of that which is only skin-deep\u2014that which time must\nimpair, and any hour may destroy!\u201d\n\nShe moved forward a few steps, and her reflection in the glass first\nmade Jessy aware of her presence.\n\n\u201cOh, mamma!\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cI did not know that you were there;\u201d and a\nblush rose to Jessy\u2019s cheek at being discovered in the act of admiring\nher own beauty. Mrs. Warner glanced at the books and the work, but made\nno observation on the subject; and merely asked her daughter if she were\ninclined for a walk, and would like to accompany her to a house at some\ndistance, where she was about to pay a visit on business.\n\n\u201cI should like it of all things,\u201d cried Jessy, hastily divesting her\nhead of its gay wreath\u2014so hastily that many of the flower-petals were\nstrewed on the floor.\n\n\u201cThese were very bright and beautiful to-day\u2014what will they be\nto-morrow?\u201d observed the lady.\n\nJessy made no reply, but hastened to put on her bonnet and shawl.\n\nMrs. Warner gave her daughter an allowance for her dress; Jessy was\ntherefore able to choose it herself, and please her own taste in the\nselection. It must be owned that her attire was more remarkable for the\ngaiety of its colours than for the goodness of its materials\u2014that more\nattention was paid to its being becoming than to its being comfortable;\nand that money was often wasted upon some expensive piece of finery,\nwhen some necessary article of dress was required. Jessy\u2019s bonnet was\nnow radiant with pink bows and flowers, and pretty bracelets adorned her\narms; while her gloves were so old that the fingers looked through them,\nand her shoes were so much trodden down at heel that she could not help\nshuffling as she walked. Jessy was in actual want of a good common\ndress, in which she could run about the garden, and play with her young\ncompanions without fear of causing rent or stain; but she had chosen one\nof a tint so delicate, and a fabric so fragile, that she never, while\nwearing it, felt at her ease.\n\nMrs. Warner and her daughter pursued their way along green shady lanes,\nand across daisy-dotted meadows, with nothing to mar the pleasure of\ntheir walk, except the brambles in the former, which were always\ncatching in poor Jessy\u2019s flounces, and the stiles in the latter, which\nher tight dress made her find difficulty in crossing. Jessy and her\nmother arrived at last at an exceedingly beautiful spot. On an emerald\nlawn, embosomed in trees, stood a villa which might have been the abode\nof a fairy, so tasteful was its form, so graceful its fanciful minarets,\nso elegant its windows of stained glass overhung with clusters of roses\nand jasmine. A splendid passion-flower twined round one of the slender\ncarved pillars of the porch; another was half hidden by clematis. In the\ncentre of the building rose an ornamental clock-tower, whose gilded\npinnacle glittered in the sun! In her admiration of its fanciful beauty,\nJessy did not notice that the hands of the gay clock pointed to a wrong\nhour, for its works were motionless and out of order.\n\n[Illustration: MRS. WARNER AND JESSY.]\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cwhat a lovely place! How delightful it would be to\nlive here! How proud one would be if it were one\u2019s own!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is pretty enough on the outside,\u201d said Mrs. Warner, rather drily;\n\u201cbut with houses, as with those who live in them, it is not sufficient\nto look only at the _face_\u2014we must examine further before we decide\nwhether they are subjects either for pride or for admiration.\u201d\n\nThey entered the pretty porch, and Mrs. Warner pulled the bell-handle.\nIt was broken, and came off in her hand; so, seeing that the door was\nopen, the lady walked into the house.\n\nStrangely different from what the exterior had led her to expect, Jessy\nfound the inside of the dwelling. It bore every token of neglect and\ndisrepair, as if either uninhabited or occupied by those who paid no\nattention to neatness and comfort. The plaster had partly peeled from\nthe walls; there was not a carpet upon the floors, and the dust lay so\nthick upon them that the visitors\u2019 footsteps left prints behind! There\nwas a sad lack of chairs and tables, even of the commonest kind, in the\nsitting-room, which Mrs. Warner entered in hopes of finding a more\nefficient bell. Jessy sat down on a bench, and had a narrow escape of\nfalling to the ground, for one of the legs gave way beneath even her\nlight weight!\n\n\u201cWhat a shame to furnish such a pretty house so badly!\u201d she exclaimed.\n\u201cI never saw a place so neglected! Just look at the dull spotted\npicture-frames, and the dirty cobwebs across the corners of the room!\nWhat is the use of having a beautiful house, if nothing but rubbish is\nin it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the use, indeed!\u201d replied Mrs. Warner, trying again the effect\nof pulling the old bell-rope. \u201cBut houses are not the only things which\nneed furnishing; and yet I fancy that there is some one not far from me\nwho occasionally acts as though she thought that it matters not how\nempty a head may be, so that it looks well to the eye.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, mamma!\u201d cried Jessy laughing, yet half vexed, \u201cheads and houses are\nsuch different things!\u201d\n\n\u201cTo my idea,\u201d replied Mrs. Warner, \u201can unfurnished mind is much like an\nunfurnished house, only a much sadder object. Youth is the time above\nall other to fit up the intellect richly. We may then lay in an almost\nboundless store of valuable information, increasing with every day of\nour lives, for none are too old to learn.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut study is so tiresome!\u201d sighed Jessy.\n\n\u201cIt costs us something, my dear; like rich furniture, it is not to be\nhad for the mere wishing. But it is well worth the trouble which it\ncosts. And remember, Jessy, with the mind, as with the house, it cannot\nbe _entirely_ empty. Where knowledge is neglected folly will come\u2014the\ndust gathers, the spider spins her web. If we are not learning we are\nlosing\u2014a mind left to itself is a mind left to decay!\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder if any one lives here!\u201d said Jessy, who was rather desirous to\nturn the conversation. \u201cNo one takes the trouble to answer the bell.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe that we shall find Madame L\u2019Ame in one of the upper rooms,\u201d\nreplied her mother. \u201cShe knows me well, and therefore will not regard my\nvisit as an intrusion; besides, to-day she expects me, as I have to\nspeak to her on important business, regarding a large property to which\nshe is heir.\u201d\n\nMrs. Warner, therefore, followed by her daughter, proceeded up the dusty\nuncarpeted stair, Jessy feeling some curiosity to see the mistress of\nthe beautiful but neglected mansion. They reached the landing-place,\nwhere Mrs. Warner knocked at the door of one of the upper rooms. As the\nsound brought no answer, the lady knocked again, when a shrill voice\nbade her \u201ccome in;\u201d and she and Jessy entered an apartment as unsightly\nas the rest of the interior of the house. There was not, perhaps, the\nsame deficiency of furniture, but everything was in confusion and\ndisorder, as it might be heaped together in the warehouse of a broker.\nAt one corner of the room a maidservant on her knees was engaged in\ncutting out pictures from old magazines of fashion, figures of\nslender-waisted belles and coxcomicallooking beaux, and pasting them on\na large screen. This Jessy observed when she had a little leisure to\nlook around her, but at first her attention was engaged by the mistress\nof the house, who advanced to meet Mrs. Warner.\n\nMadame L\u2019Ame was very much stunted in size, so much so as to appear\nalmost a dwarf; and she looked shorter than she really was from a habit\nof constant stooping. She seldom raised her eyes from the ground, but\nmoved them restlessly to and fro, as if always searching for something\non the floor. Her mouth, which she usually kept a little open, had a\nvacant, silly expression; which gave Jessy an idea, at first sight, that\nthe lady possessed a very small share of sense. The young girl was\nconfirmed in this impression by Madame L\u2019Ame\u2019s conduct during the whole\nof the visit.\n\nNotwithstanding the very serious and important business upon which Mrs.\nWarner soon entered\u2014business which concerned the lady\u2019s title to succeed\nto an immense property, and even her claim to all that she then\npossessed\u2014Madame L\u2019Ame appeared as though she thought the subject not\nworthy a moment\u2019s attention. She was constantly interrupting Mrs. Warner\nwith some frivolous remark which had nothing to do with the question at\nissue. She was far more taken up with the tricks and gambols of Plaisir,\nher petted and pampered monkey, than she was with business on which\nmight depend her future wealth or absolute beggary. The screen also\noccupied much of her attention, and Madame L\u2019Ame often interrupted the\nflow of her childish gossip to give directions to the maid about placing\nthe pictures upon it.\n\n\u201cMy dear Madame,\u201d said Mrs. Warner, earnestly, after concluding a\nstatement which would have appeared interesting to any one but the\nperson chiefly concerned, \u201cit is now high time for you to take a decided\npart. Your enemies are powerful and active, your claim doubtful\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, does he not look droll?\u201d exclaimed Madame L\u2019Ame, who had twisted a\ngauze scarf over the head of her favourite, and was laughing at his\nefforts to free himself from his veil.\n\n\u201cReally this is no time for trifling,\u201d said the visitor, \u201cwhen so much\nis at stake; I have been informed that\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cMabel, Mabel!\u201d cried the lady to her maid, \u201cbring these dancing figures\nmore to the front\u2014there! and the coloured flowers to form a pretty\nborder round them!\u201d and she started up from her seat to show the exact\nspot on the screen which she wished to have decorated by the woodcuts.\n\nMrs. Warner\u2019s usually serene countenance showed signs of impatience and\nannoyance; they had quite passed away, however, before the lady returned\nto her seat.\n\n\u201cI really must beg for half an hour of your earnest, undivided\nattention,\u201d said the visitor. \u201cI have walked some distance on purpose to\nlet you know the full extent of the evil which threatens you.\u201d\n\nMadame L\u2019Ame\u2019s eyes were wandering curiously over the dress of Jessy\u2014her\nbonnet, her bracelets, her flounces; and at the first pause in her\nvisitor\u2019s address she inquired, \u201cPray, who is your milliner, my dear?\u201d\n\nMrs. Warner rose in despair; she had given up all hope of engaging the\nmind of her weak and frivolous acquaintance on anything beyond the\ntrifles of the hour. She quitted the apartment and the house, but not\nbefore Madame L\u2019Ame had detailed to her all the petty gossip of the\nneighbourhood, and asked her opinion on various important subjects, such\nas the fit of a glove, or the tint of a riband.\n\n\u201cMamma!\u201d exclaimed Jessy, when they stepped out into the open air, glad\nto escape from society so insipid, \u201cwho would ever have believed Madame\nL\u2019Ame to be the owner of so beautiful a house! Surely she is quite out\nof her mind!\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is weak in her intellect, I fear.\u201d\n\n\u201cWeak!\u2014oh, mamma, I do not believe that she has any intellect at all!\nShe seemed to think more of that monkey than of all the splendid fortune\nof which you were telling her; and I do believe that she would care more\nabout losing a few of her paltry beads and pictures than for forfeiting\na kingdom, if she had one. I never saw any one so silly!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, my child,\u201d said Mrs. Warner, quietly, \u201clet us take care that we\nourselves are not betrayed into greater and more fatal folly. If it is\nsad to see the mere outward appearance alone regarded, the furnishing of\nthe mind neglected, how much sadder to see _the soul_, unworthy mistress\nof a beautiful mansion, itself unlovely and stunted, devoted to trifles\nunworthy its regard, while its highest interests are forgotten! Have we\nnever met with one to whom the most important of all subjects appeared\ntedious and uninteresting? who cared more for the amusement of the\nmoment than the happiness of ages to come? whom serious conversation\nonly wearied, though it might regard a future crown to be inherited or\nlost, and who would rather listen to any tale of idle gossip than to a\nmessage of _glad tidings_ from heaven?\u201d\n\nJessy walked home silent and reflecting. For the first time in her life\nshe thought less of the \u201ccottage of clay\u201d which she had so delighted to\nadorn, than of the dweller therein, the immortal soul.\n\nMany years passed away before Jessy had occasion again to revisit the\nbeautiful villa embosomed in trees. It looked changed, for the season\nwas that of winter. The lovely creepers showed neither blossoms nor\nleaves; the gilded pinnacle of the clock-tower had been blown down by a\ngale; but the clock itself had been long since repaired, and was keeping\ngood time, and striking the hour on its silvery bell, like a brave\nspirit on a round of daily duty. And cheerfully blazed the fires in the\nneat and well-furnished rooms. Their former occupant had died in poverty\nmany years before; her very memory had almost passed away from the place\nin which she had dwelt. A happy, united family, now inhabited the\nbeautiful home; the ringing laugh of childhood was heard there, pleasant\nand sweet to the ear; but not so pleasant or sweet as the sound of the\nhymn which rose morning and eve from the happy abode, to Him from whom\nall happiness flows!\n\nThe house was much changed when Jessy revisited it; but Jessy herself\nwas more changed than the house. The pretty child, as often happens, had\nnot grown into the beautiful woman; and sickness, time, and care, had\nrobbed her of all trace of good looks. The rounded cheek has become\nhollow, the rose-colour has faded, the sparkling eyes have lost all\ntheir brightness! And yet Jessy is now far more agreeable as a\ncompanion, and far more valuable as a friend; more loved in her family,\nmore happy in her own mind, than she ever was when lovely and young. A\ngentle, cheerful, loving spirit dwells in the faded form, and sheds a\nlight on homely features which makes them more than fair. The beauty\nwhich passes away like a flower is exchanged for _the beauty of\nholiness_, which never fades, which never dies, but finds its perfection\nin heaven! _Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that\nfeareth the Lord, she shall be praised._\n\n The unsightly shell\n A pearl may enshrine,\u2014\n In homely form dwell\n A spirit divine.\n Oh! favour\u2019s deceitful,\n And beauty is vain;\n But virtue\u2019s the pearl\n Which will precious remain!\n\n The weed\u2019s scarlet dye\n Outshineth the corn,\n Yet gladdens no eye,\n To no garner is borne.\n Oh! favour\u2019s deceitful\n And beauty is vain;\n But virtue\u2019s rich harvest\n Will precious remain!\n\n What matters what hue\n To the eye has been given,\n If the soul that looks through\n Wear the beauty of heaven!\n Oh! favour\u2019s deceitful,\n And comeliness vain;\n But virtue for ever\n Will lovely remain!\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n A. L. O. E.\u2019s INSTRUCTIVE STORIES\n FOR THE YOUNG.\n\n\n =Fairy Know-a-Bit=; or, A Nutshell of Knowledge. With upwards of 40\n Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.\n\n A tale for children. A fairy gives \u201cMaster Philibert\u201d a great\n variety of information on all manner of things around him\u2014food,\n dress, paper, &c.\n\n\n =Fairy Frisket=; or, Peeps at Insect Life. With upwards of 50\n Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.\n\n Fairy teachings and lessons from insect life and natural history.\n\n\n =My Neighbour\u2019s Shoes=; or, Feeling for Others. Illustrated. Post 8vo,\n cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 2s.\n\n A fairy tale, showing the happiness of kindness towards all around\n us.\n\n\n =Old Friends with New Faces.= Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt\n edges. Price 2s.\n\n A tale for children, in which some old favourite stories\u2014Bluebeard,\n the Fisherman and the Genii, &c.\u2014are introduced in an allegorical\n form.\n\n\n =Rambles of a Rat.= Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.\n Price 2s. 6d.\n\n A rat telling his own story, with many facts of the natural history\n and habits of rats.\n\n\n =The Story of a Needle.= Illustrated. Royal 18mo, cloth extra. Price\n 1s. 6d.\n\n A tale for the young, interwoven with a description of the\n manufacture, adventures, and uses of a needle.\n\n\n =Wings and Stings.= Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s.\n\n In this volume the bees are made to afford lessons in many virtues\n that children should acquire.\n\n\n =The Golden Fleece=; or, Who Wins the Prize? With 7 Illustrations.\n _New Edition._ Foolscap 8vo. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n\n =Parliament in the Playroom=; or, Law and Order made Amusing. With\n Illustrations. _New Edition._ Foolscap 8vo. Price 2s.\n\n\n =The Crown Of Success=; or, Four Heads to Furnish. With 8 Engravings.\n Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 3s.\n\n An allegorical tale for the young. The four cottages of Head taken\n and furnished by Dame Desley\u2019s four children, with the help of their\n friend, Mr. Learning. This book is of unusual interest and very\n instructive.\n\n\n\n\n New and Favourite Tales.\n\n\n =Ready and Willing=; or, Guy Power\u2019s Watchword. By J. T. HOPKINS.\n Small crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.\n\n \u201cThere is genuine interest in the story.\u201d\u2014_Scotsman._\n\n\n =By Uphill Paths=; or, Waiting and Winning. A Story of Work to be\n Done. By E. VAN SOMMER. With Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra.\n Price 3s. 6d.\n\n The story of a young man and his struggles against temptations,\n showing the great need there is for \u201cthe unhindered sympathy of a\n human heart\u201d to influence and better those who daily cross our\n paths.\n\n\n =Fighting the Good Fight=; or, The Successful Influence of Well Doing.\n By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN. Post 8vo, cloth. 272 pages. Price 2s. 6d.\n\n A vigorous story of an orphan boy who is adopted by his uncle, and\n tries to be a little soldier with the weapons of faith, love, and\n obedience. There are many points of interest in the story, and\n Cousin Corrie is a character full of pathos and beauty.\n\n\n =True to the Last=; or, My Boyhood\u2019s Hero. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN,\n Author of \u201cFighting the Good Fight,\u201d &c. Post 8vo, cloth extra.\n Price 2s. 6d.\n\n \u201cIt is calculated to rouse the kindliest thoughts, and altogether to\n make readers better than they might be without such encouragement\n and advice.\u201d\u2014_Scotsman._\n\n\n By the Author of \u201cThe Spanish Brothers.\u201d\n\n\n =Arthur Erskine\u2019s Story.= A Tale of the Days of Knox. Crown 8vo, cloth\n extra. Price 4s.\n\n\n =The Czar.= A Tale of the Time of the First Napoleon. Crown 8vo,\n cloth. Price 4s.\n\n An interesting tale of the great Franco-Russian war in 1812-13; the\n characters partly French, partly Russian.\n\n\n =No Cross No Crown.= A Tale of the Scottish Reformation. Post 8vo,\n cloth. Price 2s. 6d.\n\n A tale, more of facts than fiction, of the plague in Dundee, 1544,\n and the life and times of George Wishart.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n =The Young Huguenots=; or, The Soldiers of the Cross. A Story of the\n Seventeenth Century. By EDITH L. FLOYER. Post 8vo, cloth extra.\n Price 3s. 6d.\n\n It depicts the sufferings which the luckless French Protestants were\n called upon to endure. It is a touching narrative of the triumph of\n bright and steadfast Christian faith over persecution and trials.\n\n\n =Roe Carson\u2019s Enemy=; or, The Struggle for Self-Conquest. By the Rev.\n E. N. HOARE, M.A., Author of \u201cHarvey Compton\u2019s Holiday,\u201d &c. Royal\n 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n This simple story relates how Roe\u2019s enemy (an uncontrolled temper)\n frequently got the better of him, and how he was made to see the\n folly of his conduct, and learned to conquer self.\n\n\n\n\n Books of Precept and Example.\n\n\n =Culm Rock=; or, Ready Work for Willing Hands. A Book for Boys. By I.\n W. BRADLEY. Foolscap 8vo. With Engravings. Cloth extra. Price 2s.\n\n It narrates the experiences and adventures of a boy compelled by\n circumstances to a hard life on a stern and stormy coast.\n\n\n =After Years.= A Story of Trials and Triumphs. By the Author of, and\n forming a Sequel to, \u201cCulm Rock.\u201d With Illustrations. Foolscap 8vo,\n cloth extra. Price 2s.\n\n \u201cThere is nothing to be said but what is favourable of this\n book.\u201d\u2014_Scotsman._\n\n\n =Odd Moments of the Willoughby Boys.= By EMILY C. HARTLEY. Post 8vo,\n cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.\n\n An interesting family history, showing what great things may be\n accomplished by resolution and perseverance, even \u201cunder\n difficulties.\u201d\n\n\n =The Boy Artist.= A Tale. By the Author of \u201cHope On.\u201d With Coloured\n Frontispiece and numerous Engravings. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s.\n 6d.\n\n The trials, and success at last, of a youthful artist.\n\n\n =Ned\u2019s Motto=; or, Little by Little. By the Author of \u201cTony Starr\u2019s\n Legacy,\u201d \u201cFaithful and True,\u201d &c. With Coloured Frontispiece and\n numerous Engravings. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n A story of the last American War.\n\n\n =Frank Martin=; or, The Story of a Country Boy. With Coloured\n Frontispiece. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n A story for children. Honesty proved to be \u201cthe best policy.\u201d\n\n\n =Little Robinson of Paris=; or, The Triumph of Industry. Translated\n from the French by LUCY LANDON. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n An orphan boy deserted by a heartless relative in Paris, and feeling\n there like Crusoe on his desert island.\n\n\n =Tom Tracy=; or, Whose is the Victory? With Coloured Frontispiece and\n Vignette. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n Tom\u2019s great enemy, a hasty, violent temper; and what it cost him\n before he learned the only way to gain the victory.\n\n\n =The Golden Rule=; or, Do to Others as You would have Others Do to\n You. Illustrated. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n Story of a young sailor, illustrative of the \u201cGolden Rule.\u201d\n\n\n =The Fisherman\u2019s Boy=; or, \u201cAll have not the Same Gifts.\u201d With\n Coloured Frontispiece. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n\n\n\n Tales for the Home Circle.\n\n\n By the Author of \u201cThe Babes in the Basket.\u201d\n\n\n =At the Pastor\u2019s.= Royal 18mo, cloth extra. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n\n =The Swedish Twins.= A Tale for the Young. With Coloured Frontispiece.\n Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n An interesting tale, with lively descriptions of manners and customs\n in Sweden.\n\n\n =The Babes in the Basket=; or, Daph and Her Charge. With Coloured\n Frontispiece and numerous Engravings. Royal 18mo, cloth. Price 1s.\n\n\n By the Hon. Mrs. GREENE.\n\n\n =On Angels\u2019 Wings=; or, The Story of Little Violet of Edelsheim. With\n Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 5s.\n\n\n =The Grey House on the Hill=; or, Trust in God and Do the Right. A\n Tale for the Young. Post 8vo, cloth. Price 2s. 6d.\n\n A tender, touching story; one which cannot fail to interest all\n true-hearted boys and girls.\n\n\n =Jubilee Hall=; or, \u201cThere\u2019s no Place Like Home.\u201d A Story for the\n Young. Post 8vo, cloth. Price 2s. 6d.\n\n It recounts the holiday experiences of a party of children in a\n pleasant country-house.\n\n\n =Alda\u2019s Leap=, and Other Stories. Foolscap 8vo, cloth. Price 1s.\n\n\n =The Babe i\u2019 the Mill=, and =Zanina the Flower-Girl of Florence=.\n Foolscap 8vo, cloth. Price 1s.\n\n\n By Mrs. SARAH S. BAKER.\n\n\n =The Children on the Plains.= A Story of Travel and Adventure on the\n Great Prairies of North America. With numerous Woodcuts. Foolscap\n 8vo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.\n\n This is a story of the journey of a brother and sister across the\n North American continent. The adventures and incidents introduced\n into it are those of a real journey. A suitable book for a boy or a\n girl under twelve.\n\n\n =Truth and its Triumph=; or, The Story of the Jewish Twins. With\n Frontispiece. Foolscap 8vo, cloth. Price 1s.\n\n A pretty domestic story, showing, in the history and conversion of\n two brothers, children of Jewish parents, the triumph of the truth\n of Christianity as contrasted with Judaism.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK._\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. P. 114, changed \u201cthe hope so lear\u201d to \u201cthe hope so dear\u201d.\n 2. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.\n 3. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as\n printed.\n 4. Added descriptive text in [square brackets] to images lacking\n captions.\n 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.\n 6. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.","title":"Precepts in Practice; or, Stories Illustrating the Proverbs","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":44519}