< ;A L $ V t'/rr? SACRED ALLEGORIES LONDON: PRINTED BY RICHARD CLAY, BREAD STREET HILL SACRED ALLEGORIES. BY THE REV. WILLIAM ADAMS, ALA. LATE FELLOW OF MERTON COLLEGE, OXFORD. NEW EDITION, WITH ENGRAVINGS PROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY CHARLES W. COPE, R, A. JOHN C. HORSLEY, A.R.A. SAMEEL BIRKET POSTER, AND GEORGE E. HICKS. T AIA1 EE, LONDON: RIYINGTONS, WATERLOO P L A C E. 1856. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill https://archive.org/details/sacredallegories00adam_2 CONTENTS. PAGE MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 1 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS.17 THE DISTANT HILLS.81 THE OLD MAN’S HOME 155 THE KING’S MESSENGERS 221 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. I fancied it was some scene of enchantment . Drawn by Birket Foster . Engraved, by . . E. Evans . Page 17 “ Innocence" was written on her forehead . G. E. Hicks . . . . . W. T. Green 23 A wasp stung him on the finger . . . T. Bolton . 31 The butterfly flew high in the air . Birket Foster . . . E. Evans . 37 They were frightened when they observed he had no cross G. E. Hicks . . . . . T. Bolton . 45 He drew the long-neglected cross from his bosom .... Birket Foster . . . TF. Measom 61 Then did Charity draw nigh to the faint and bleeding boy Birket Foster . . . E. Evans . 58 So Charity raised her own cross on high . G. E. Hicks . . . . . II. Harral . 61 THE DISTANT HILLS. They could only look up to the stranger with tearful eyes Samuel Palmer . . . TV. T. Green 83 And bathed the children in the refreshing water . Samuel Palmer . . . JF. T. Green 85 The distant and eternal hills . Samuel Palmer . . . JF. T. Green 91 The tempest began in all its fury . Samuel Palmer . . . IF. T. Green 108 She remained there senseless for awhile . JF. Measom 116 Her sister gathered for her a nosegay of the sweetest flowers Samuel Palmer . . . TF. T. Green 126 She watched her sister's receding steps . Samuel Palmer . . . JF. Measom 131 Ever the richest , tenderest glow , \ Samuel Palmer . . . TF. T. Green 140 Sets round the Autumnal sun ) She closed her eyes in a soft untroubled sleep . Samuel Palmer . . . H. Hanoi . 145 VI ILLUSTRATIONS. THE OLD MAN'S HOME. Drawn by Engraved by Page I turned, and saw a venerable old man . W. T. Green 159 A stile which separated the wild scenery from the public road Birket Foster . . . W. T. Green 167 He has been quite mad for more than fifty years .... J. C. Horsley, A.R.A. Halziel . . 168 Scene in the Isle of Wight ... Birket Foster . . . 11. Harral . 176 A little girl weeping as if her heart would break .... J. C. Horsley, A.R.A. Halziel . . 177 He proposed to administer to him the Holy Communion . . J. C. Horsley, A.R.A. Halziel . . 189 The old man was lying upon his narrow bed . J. C. Horsley, A.R.A. II. llarral . 193 “ Annie, do you know where your friend is gone ? ” . . . J. C. Horsley, A.R.A. 11. llarral . 202 Annie's Grave . Birket Foster . . . W. T. Green 211 I was not long in discovering the object which I sought . J. C. Horsley, A.R.A. II. llarral . 212 THE KING’S MESSENGERS. The gates of the city . C. W. Cope, R.A. It was as the form of an old man .C. W. Cope, R.A. His whole time ivas claimed by the spirit of the gold-mine C. W. Cope, R.A. Hay after day the tower increased in size and beauty . . C. W. Cope, R.A. Behold the riches of Euprepes . C. W. Cope, R.A. The train of Royal Messengers . C. W. Cope, R.A. Oh , merchant, what vain words are these ! . C. W. Cope, R.A. Pride .C. W. Cope, R.A. A sound as of the rustling of many wings .C. W. Cope, R.A. Halziel . . 229 Halziel . . 233 IK Measom . 238 Halziel . . 244 Halziel . . 252 T. Bolton . 257 Halziel . . 259 Halziel . . 272 Halziel . . 280 V* The Illustrations to the Poem “In Memorial” and the ornamental head and tail-pieces are drawn by T. Macquoiil MEMOIR OE THE AUTHOR. MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. T IHHE Life of an individual called so early from this state of probation and trial, and who passed so many of his later years in privacy, can present no features of striking interest; and yet it is so impossible to become familiar with the contents of this volume, without acquiring a strong feeling of personal attachment to its Author, that a short memorial of him may not prove unacceptable to its readers. He was the second son of Mr. Serjeant Adams, and grand¬ son of the late Simon Adams, Esq. of Ansty Hall, Warwick¬ shire, in which county his family have been long settled. Ilis mother, who survived his birth but a few days, was the only daughter of the late William Nation, Esq. of Exeter. He was remarkable in his childhood for the vivacity and playful¬ ness of his disposition, but until his twelfth year he exhibited o MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. no marks of those superior powers which he subsequently displayed. We believe, indeed, there is a letter still extant of that period, in which his father speaks of their develop¬ ment, and of his future hopes. In his thirteenth year lie was sent to Eton, whence he passed with the greatest expectations to Oxford, and there closed a brilliant career with the highest honours the University can bestow, having, independently of other distinctions, obtained a double first- class degree in the year 1836, therein having followed the steps of his beloved elder brother, who had obtained the same honours eighteen months before, and who survived him only a few months. In the following year he was elected Fellow and Tutor of Merton College, and was shortly after¬ wards presented to the vicarage of St. Peter’s-in-the-East, at Oxford, a small living belonging to that College. He continued actively and sedulously to discharge both his college and parochial duties until the spring of 1842, when he was appointed one of the Examiners for the Newcastle Scholarship at Eton; and whilst attending that Examination caught a violent cold, from bathing after a day of much excitement and exertion, which falling upon the lungs, ulti¬ mately terminated fatally. r l o one so devoted to the service of his Divine Master, the blow that thus forced him to give up his residence in the MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 3 University, and the care of his parish, was peculiarly hard to bear, and for a short period he clung to the hope that he might be again enabled to resume his charge; but when experience had shown him, that although his life might be prolonged a few years by care and repose, he could not hope again to resume the active duties of his profession, he resigned the living, but without ceasing to feel the deepest interest in his late parishioners; and he evinced his remem¬ brance of, and affection for them, by re-writing and dedicating to them, a few months before his death, a series of Lectures he had in the early part of his ministry preached in his parish church, called “The Warnings of the Holy Week/’ In this work he narrates, in clear and simple language, the incidents of the last days of our Saviour’s ministry, and brings out the warnings in a touching and affec¬ tionate manner peculiar to himself. This work, although of a different character from his other publications, has attained great celebrity, and bears upon it decisive proofs of his deep thought and knowledge, and of his fitness for the duties of a Christian Pastor. The Allegories, which form the subject of this volume, are the works by which he first attracted the attention of the public, and Avon the sympathy of a large class of readers. This style of writing, uniting the assumption of a state of B 4 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. tilings altogether imaginary with the inculcation of the most serious truths, the ingenuity of the man of fancy with the earnest piety of the Christian teacher, was excellently adapted to his powers; and the rapidity with which his volumes followed each other, bore evidence to his facility, and also to the favour with which they were received. They have we find been translated into several European languages, and Bengalee versions of “ The Distant Hills ” and of “ The King’s Mes¬ sengers ” have also been published in India. The “ Shadow of the Cross ” was the first in order, and was the only one that was written before his attack of illness, which came on shortly after the manuscript was complete. It was published in the autumn of 1842, on the eve of his departure for the island of Madeira. “ The Distant Hills ” appeared in 1844. The next in order was “The Ball of Croesus,” which was followed, at no long interval, by the most universally admired of all his writings, “ The Old Man’s Home.” His last work, “ The King’s Messengers,” was pub¬ lished only a few days before his death. The design of the first two of these publications was in many respects the same; the endeavour in both of them being to impress upon the minds of the children of the Church, first, the blessedness of the position in which they are placed by holy baptism; secondly, the danger MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 5 they incur, from their earliest years, of forfeiting that blessedness by giving way to temptation; and, thirdly, the fearful extent to which that danger may be increased by unrepented sin. The Author has thus explained his views in his Preface to the joint edition of these two works: “ Two distinct views may be taken of our position in the Church upon earth. We may either regard it as enabling us, by the light that shines upon it from above, to pass in safety through the trials of life; or as affording us a field of contemplation alto¬ gether removed from the present world. The former view has been principally adopted in the Shadow of the Cross, the latter in the Distant Hills; and it is hoped that the two combined may, by God’s grace, be a means of leading those who read them to endeavour to exercise and retain all their baptismal privileges, both by seeking the mark of the cross on the earthly objects around them, and also by setting their affections on things above, and having their conversation in Heaven.” The idea of the “ Old Man’s Home” originated in the deep interest which the Author took in the happily successful changes in the treatment of insane persons, which at that period strongly excited the public attention, and in which his father, as one of the Visiting Justices of the Han well Asylum, took MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 6 a very prominent part. The tale was written solely with a view of bringing out strongly and distinctly the realities of the unseen world; yet such is the skill with which its acces¬ sories are introduced, that we are led to forget that its incidents are not real, and that the perpetual longing of the Old Man for his Home is but an allegory to remind us of the trans¬ itoriness of life, and the true home on which the Christian’s thoughts must be fixed. It is not, indeed, unmixed with a feeling of regret that we imitate the Author’s example, who, in the singleness of his heart, was unprepared for the effect on the public mind of his own truthful pictures, and pained at the impression which universally prevailed, that the story was a true one; and declare (as he did in a subsequent edition of the work) that the events recorded are entirely fictitious, and that nothing is true in the story of “ The Old Man’s Home ” but the graphic description of the scenes where it is placed, and the moral which it inculcates. The Preface is as follows:—“ These pages were written solely with the object of bringing out strongly and distinctly the realities of the unseen world; and the incidents they contain were never designed to be regarded otherwise than as a medium for allegorical teaching. The Author is induced to annex this statement to the present edition, in consequence of an erroneous MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 7 impression which has prevailed, that the ‘ Old Man’s Home ’ is a true story. lie trusts that he may look upon it as a sign that the picture of poor Robin has not been overdrawn. He enjoyed very peculiar advantages in the delineation of its out¬ line, from having been long in the habit of hearing his father speak of the softened form which mental disorders assume under a gentle system of treatment, and at times accompanied him in his visits to the Han well Asylum. With respect to the local allusions which the narrative contains, he was led to introduce them from his affection for the scenes in the midst of which he wrote; and indeed the broken, yet rich and luxuriant, scenery of the UnderclifFe seemed to have a kind of natural harmony with the Old Man’s character.” His last work—“ The King’s Messengers ”—is of a higher and more dramatic cast than any of his other publications. There is a stronger development of incident, and a more varied interest given to the story; there are reverses of fortune, and opposition of character, and perhaps more skill exhibited in conducting all the threads of the narrative to the one designed conclusion, than has been shown in any recent work of the kind. The tale differs also in some respects, both in design and character, from “The Shadow of the Cross,” and “ The Distant Hills.” Their intention is to give a general view of our state as Christians; “ The King’s 8 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Messengers” merely to bring forward, prominently and dis¬ tinctively, a single Christian duty. “ In consequence of this,” says the Author, “it involves very little of doctrinal teaching; while the allegorical meaning lies so completely on the sur¬ face, that the youngest child cannot fail to apprehend it. Cor both these reasons, any explanatory conversations have been considered unnecessary. But a conversation of a different character has been annexed, in order to obviate the miscon¬ struction to which the dwelling on any one duty to the exclusion of others is always liable, and at the same time to apply and illustrate the truths conveyed in the story.” The object of “The Ball of Croesus,” which, as well as £< The Warnings of the Holy Week,” is not included in this volume, is to connect the study of history with a belief in the doctrine of a superintending Providence; and to point out, that whilst on the surface of history man forms his own schemes and carries them into effect, an under-current pervades it, which, by a hidden influence, controls his course, and forces him, whether in the success or failure of his plans, to accomplish the unchangeable decrees of God. It is difficult to convey to the readers of this memorial, by those general features to which we are limited, a just conception of the true character of this amiable and excellent man. Whilst the higher virtues of the Christian shone MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 9 conspicuously around him, and his varied knowledge and literary success acted on his well-regulated mind only as a farther inducement to meekness and humility, his manners were gentle and attractive, and there was a charming playfulness, a vein of mirth running through his lively conversation, peculiarly winning. Knowing the perfect simplicity of his mind, his self-denying spirit, and the unrepining, almost triumphant submission with which he bore his long and irremediable illness, the listener was reminded of the poet’s beautiful explanation of the union that frequently exists between the deepest piety and the most sparkling wit:—- “ For the root of some grave earnest thought is understruck so rightly, As to justify the foliage and spreading flowers above.” He passed the last five years of his valuable life in strict privacy, at the beautiful village of Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight, the scene of the “ Old Man’s Home,” devoting the proceeds of his valuable works to public and private charities, and solaced in his intervals of rest by the companionship of the valued and attached friends by whom he was surrounded, and affording to them an example ol Christian fortitude under suffering, and of resignation to the Divine will. 10 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. He was released from his state of trial on January 17, 1848. A simple cross marks the spot where his remains repose in the Churchyard he has described so well. The soundness of his views upon the great doctrines of the Christian revelation will be best estimated by a perusal of his works; and if, in addition to those views, the humblest submission to the will of God—a Catholic faith, which hopetli all things, endureth all things, and a Catholic love, which embraced all, however opposed to his views of Church polity—can give an erring mortal a right to be considered as a faithful member of the Church of Christ, this character will not be denied to the author of these pages, which breathe in every line “ Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, good-will towards men.” IN MEMORIAM. I. Upon the shores of that sweet Isle Where summer wears her softest smile— That Southern Isle where, Ion £ delayed. The Roman’s parting steps were stayed— ’Mid hills with heather crowned, that rise Far upwards thro’ the peaceful skies; Whose guardian care would fain exclude Each footstep that might else intrude From out the common world of men,— There lies a deep sequestered glen. c IN MEMORIAM. II. Beside the path that downward strays Thro’ many a wild and tangled maze,— J C? 7 Embowered in trees, whose shadow falls So gently on those hoary walls— Grey with its load of countless years. The ancient Church its front uprears. Within is stillness, hushed, profound, Solemn as theirs that slumber round; Save that there rises from below The voice of ocean, deep and low. III. Along that steep and winding way They bore thee on a winter’s day; Where oft in life thy steps had passed. Each Sabbath feebler than the last. The sadness of the earth and air That hour of mourning seem’d to share; As underneath the peaceful shade Of those time-liallowed walls, we laid Thy mortal part in solemn trust, To wait the rising of the just. IV. We sought not o’er thy tomb to raise The pomp of monumental praise. For the true honours of the dead. Are the warm tears we freely shed. IN MEMORIAM. 13 And such parade of earthly pride Had memory, meek as thine, belied. One record there—the first, the last, The only record of the past, Thy humble heart might not disown,— We laid—a simple Cross of stone. V. When steals across the twilight grey The first faint tinge of early day; As, far o’er distant Culver borne, The freshening breeze salutes the morn ; And earth awakens bright and young, As into life when first she sprung—• At that glad hour the watchful eye May by the gathering light descry The sacred Emblem faintly throw Its shadow on the tomb below. VI. Most meet that emblem—thus with thee— Yea ’mid thy very childhood’s glee, Who watched that childhood’s hours, might trace The Spirit’s growth of early grace. In meek obedience promptly shown— In reverent look, and thoughtful tone— In loving smiles, and gentle tears, And thoughts that seemed of graver years,— Might well divine that tender shoot Would one dav bear immortal fruit ! u IN MEMORIAL. VII. When noon, in dazzling strength arrayed, Weaves her rich web of light and shade— W hen skies their gaudiest tints endue, And the blue wave its deepest bine— W hen noisy mart and crowded street Echo the tramp of busy feet, And every sound of earth and air Speaks but of worldly toil and care,— Then clear and sharp upon the stone The outline of the Cross is thrown. VIII. So when thy noon of life was high ; When not a cloud obscured the sky; The Preacher famed—the Scholar proved—- Honoured, and courted, and beloved—- 'Thine every thought and act obeyed The holy law, thy steps that swayed : In will subdued, and self denied, And purest pleasures cast aside; 'That thou His portion might partake, Who suffered all things for our sake. IX. W hen from the wave the chiller blast Declares the hours of sunshine past; And the may tints that decked the dav, In sullen twilight melt away; IN MEMORIAM. 15 When evening’s shadows, cold and drear, Tell of decay and darkness near— Then ’mid the ever deep’ning gloom Still rests the Shadow on the tomb; Till the last gleam of lingering light O o O O Fades from the sky, and all is night. J 7 O 0 X. True emblem still !—when trial came Upon thy mid career of fame ; When wasting sickness tried thee sore, And life’s bright skies were clouded o’er; Unwavering faith could vet sustain Long years of loneliness and pain ; Could cheer the drooping soul, and shed Its brightness round the suffering bed, And bid the weary struggle cease, With the sweet words “ Depart in peace.” XI. Then rest thee here, so fitly laid Beneath the Cross’s sheltering shade. 0 True soldier, who didst bear the brunt So nobly in the battle’s front! Rest! tho’ above thy quiet grave, The battle-storms more fiercely rave— Where, tho’ sore-wearied and beset, The Church maintains the combat yet. Rest, till the Judgment-trumpet’s tone Proclaim at last her victory won. IN MEMOEIAM. 16 XII. When at that signal, on the midnight skies, Sudden and bright tli’ Eternal morn shall rise— When Sin shall cease, and Sorrow’s fount is stayed, And Hope herself in certainty shall fade— Then shall the Cross—that in this weary war Had been the sign each faithful warrior bore— The Cross, that aye its shade of sadness flings On this world’s purest love and holiest things— Shine in the glories of the perfect day, And the dark Shadow pass in light away. H. C. A. THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. AND HE SAID UNTO THEM ALL, IF ANA' MAN WILL COME AFTER ME, LET DEN\ T HIMSELF, AND TAKE UP HIS CROSS DAILA', AND FOLLOW ME. HTM x. CHAPTER I. OLD FRIENDS, OLD SCENES, WILL LOVELIER BE AS MORE OF HEAVEN IN EACH WE SEE : SOME SOFTENING GLEAM OF LOVE AND PRAYER SHALL DAWN ON EVERY CROSS AND CARE. A THICK darkness was spread over the earth, and as I stood on the top of a lofty mountain, the only object that I could see 18 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. was the sun, which hacl risen in the tar east with a wonderful glory. It was as a hall of clear and living fire; and yet so soft and chastened was its ray, that, while I gazed, my eye was not dazzled, and I felt I should love to look upon it for ever. Pre¬ sently, as it shone upon the mists which rested on the earth, they became tremulous with light, and in a moment they floated by, and a scene of life and beauty was opened to my view. I saw a spot of ground, so rich and fertile, that it might well be called a gardenthe sweetest flowers were growing wild in the fields, and the very pathways appeared to sparkle with rubies and emeralds; there were, too, the most luxuriant orchards and cool groves of orange-trees and myrtles, and the breeze of the morning was playing among their branches. Now, as I watched the butter¬ flies that fluttered over the flowers, and the lambs sporting on the smooth grass, and as I listened to the song of the nightingales in the woods, I fancied it was some scene of enchantment which 1 saw, it was so very full of happiness and life. Everywhere, at the extremity of the view, my eye rested on a clear narrow stream: I could trace neither mountain from which it rose, nor ocean into which it fell; but it glided round and round in an endless circular course, forming as it were a border of silver to that lovely garden on which the sun was shining. The morning light ever kept adding fresh beauty to each tree and flower on which it fell, but the brightest and clearest rays were those which were reflected by this narrow stream; and at this I wondered the rather because, on the other side of the ring of water, all was still wrapt in a thick and gloomy fog, and though I gazed long and earnestly, I saw nothing. THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 19 Young and lovely children were continually crossing the narrow stream; there was no other way of escaping from the land of darkness to the land of light. Their garments became white as snow by their passage through the water, and sparkled with a dazzling brightness as the sun first shone upon them; I observed, too, that each child, as he entered the garden, held a little cross in his hand. Now, when I reflected how many millions might still be wandering in the dark and gloomy region beyond, on whom the glorious sun would never shed its cheering warmth, I could not help thinking how happy the children were to have found thus early the narrow stream, and I said in my heart, Surely this lovely garden was made for them, and they will live in it for ever. While I was musing thus, it seemed that, in answer, a still soft Voice came floating on the breeze, and said, “ It is indeed for such children as these that the sun is shining, and for them that the mists have been cleared away, but none of the beautiful things in the garden belong to them; they are waiting here as strangers, till their Father shall summon them home; and when they go hence, they can take nothing away with them but the little crosses in their hands, and the white garments which they wear.” “ Who, then, are these children?” I asked, “and what is the name oi the garden? and when they are taken from it, whither will they go?” And the Voice said, “The children are sons of a mighty King, and the garden is called the Garden of ®j)I Of tlj£ (KtVSS ; but no one can tell whither each child will go when he is taken away—it will depend on how far he escapes the dangers of the garden. If they carelessly lose their crosses, or so stain THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 20 their beautiful garments, that they can be made white no more, they will be thought unworthy of the presence of the great King, and will be hid in an outer darkness, more thick and terrible than that which they have just left. But if, when they go away, the crosses are still in their hands, and they so far keep themselves clean that the King may recognise them for His own children, then will their garments be washed until they become more shining white than snow, and they will be taken to a brighter and happier land, in which they will live with their Father for ever.” But I understood not what the Voice meant by the dangers of the garden, and I wondered, too, that it should speak to me of a brighter and happier land; for I thought within myself, that no land could be more beautiful than that on which I gazed, and no sun more glorious than that which was shining there. And the Voice again answered my thoughts, and said, “It is indeed sure, that no sun surpassetli in glory that which is shining on the land encircled by the silver stream; but were it not for the light so resting upon it, there is nothing to be desired in the garden itself. At one time every thing, not only here, but in the country around, was very good—there was no mist or darkness then; but now an enemy of the King has corrupted all. The very air the children breathe is wont to sully their white garments, and each delight of the garden is full of hidden danger and deceit. While every thing appears to the eye so beautiful and innocent, there is, in truth, a poison lurking in each fruit and flower; cunning serpents are hiding in the grass; snares and stumbling-blocks innumerable are placed in the broad ways that look so bright and smooth; and THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 21 even in the groves of myrtle roaring lions are wandering about, anxious to tear the children that come thither, and to stain their white garments with blood.” And when I heard this, I wept bitterly for the poor children, whom I had thought so happy before, and I said, “ Oh, wretched children, thus to be placed in a garden so full of dangers, and to be tempted by fruits and flowers which you dare not gather! Surely there is not one of you who will not at last imbibe some secret poison, or fall into some dreadful snare, or be stung by a serpent, or torn by a lion; and so you will be prevented from entering that better country which your Father has prepared for you.” And the Voice said, “ There is not one of the King’s children who may not dwqll in peace and happiness in the garden. Not only is their Father Himself ever present with them, though they cannot see Him, but He has given to each a talisman, which will enable them to live here in security, and even to enjoy the fruits and flowers, until it is His good pleasure to call them to Himself. You see that the sun is shining brightly and gloriously in the east; you see, too, that each little one has been provided with a cross:—so long then as the cross is so held that the rays of the sun fall upon it, and cast a shadow on the surrounding objects, they will remain safe and happy in their garden; for every fruit on which the mark of the cross is seen, may be tasted of without fear, and each path may be trodden in safety on which its shadow rests.” “ But will not,” I asked, “ the hands of the children become wearied by holding the cross, and their eyes grow dim while they 22 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. watch the shadows?^ And the Voice replied, “Their hands would indeed soon become weary, and their eyes grow dim, it their sight or their strength were their own; but these are among the number of those precious gifts, that each child, as he crossed the stream, received from his Father. He is ever at hand to watch over them ; and, so long as they are really anxious to be guided by the cross, He will not suffer their sight or strength to fail. Nay more, He has appointed means, by which they themselves may seek the renewal of these gifts day after day, and hour after hour.” When I heard this I wept no more, but I thought how good and kind that Father must be, who took such care of each little child. From this time I ceased to watch the trees and the flowers, or even the bright ring of water that kept flowing round the garden; for I felt deeply interested about the King’s children, and I fancied it would be very beautiful to see them throwing shadows from their little crosses, and so living unhurt -in the garden of the Shadow of the Cross. Now, I had expected that, as there was no difference in the crosses themselves, so, too, would there be none in the shadows, and that every child who held the cross woidd make the same use of it. But I soon found that, though the crosses were indeed all alike, there was very great variety in the images which they cast. There were some which were very dark and gloomy, and some, on the contrary, were so fair and soft, that they were more beautiful to look upon than the surrounding light; some fell fixed and steadfast, some faint and wavering; some fell in clusters, and some alone. There was also a very great difference in the way in which the THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. children held their crosses : some merely raised them on high, and then walked quietly wherever the shadow fell; some kept twisting them backwards and forwards, as though it were a work of much difficulty to form the shadow; and some, methought, even when the *<*ri a.i 24 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. ima^e was - most distinct, were unable to see it. Many, too, there were who hid their crosses, and only used them now and then, and I knew that those poor children were in continual danger; and some, too, had thrown them away altogether, and I feared that they would be lost. At length my eye grew weary with the con- fusion of the scene, and I resolved to fix it steadily on some one child, and to watch its progress through the garden. One little girl there was amidst a group of children, with features so pure and lovely, that, when she had once attracted my attention, I could easily distinguish her from the rest. The name of “ Inno¬ cence” was written on her forehead; and, from the whiteness of her garments, I thought that she must have entered very lately into the garden. I watched her as she played with her companions in the fields, and I loved to see her stop with them to taste the fruits or gather the flowers by the way; for I observed that she chose not the greenest paths, nor the ripest fruits, nor the fairest flowers, but only those on which the image of her cross was seen. Nay, neither fruit nor flower seemed to have any charms for her, unless the cross had thrown its shadow there; and I wondered not that it was so, for the more I gazed, the more soft and beautiful seemed the outline that it traced. The child was always happy; her sole pleasure was in her little cross and the shadows it formed; fall where they would, she was sure to follow them. I saw, too, that she taught her friends to seek the shadows also, and when the mark of her cross and theirs might be discerned on the same object, then was she happiest of all. And as I gazed, behold! a snow-white dove was resting on the THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. cross, and the form of the little one began already to fade from my view; her features became less bright, though not less pure, than they were before, and I knew that young Innocence, with her garments still white, was passing away from the garden. In a little while her companions were weeping, and the child was gone. I did not weep, for I felt she had been taken away to that brighter and happier land of which the Voice had spoken; yet long after we had ceased to see her, I fancied she was still present in the garden, and, as she had been wont to do, was holding her little cross in the light of the sun; for its shadow continued to play around all the objects she had loved; I could trace it not only on the faces of her friends, but on the flowers she had gathered, and the very pathways she had trod. I observed, too, that these images became brighter and more distinct from the tears that fell upon them, and images from other crosses kept clustering around them, and I thought, if the beautiful child were indeed still looking on the garden, how happy she must be that the crosses of those who wept for her were thus blended with her own. E CONVERSATION ON CHAPTER I. ({£t. What is signified by the bright and glorious sun that appeared in the east? j&. Jesus Christ our Lord. O. Yes; he is spoken of as the “ Sun of Righteousness” by the prophet Malachi. And the beautiful garden on which its rays fell, is the kingdom that our Lord established upon earth; now, why is that kingdom represented as surrounded by a silver stream ? Because it is through the water of baptism that we enter it. (5L Do you remember how this was typified in the history of the children of Israel? 21. Yes; you explained to me in the Baptismal Service, that it was by the passage through the Red Sea. The words there, I think, are, “ Who didst safely lead the children of Israel through the Red Sea, figuring thereby thy holy baptism.” O. You can, then, tell me on which side of the stream were born. you THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 27 St. In the land of darkness; for I was bom in sin, and a child of wrath. (S. And when you were baptized, you were cleansed from your sin, and carried, as it were, through the clear stream in your garment of white, with your little cross in your hand. As soon as you thus entered the garden, you were made a member of Christ. Who, then, became your Father, and what inheritance was pro¬ mised you ? gl. Heaven was my inheritance, and God became my Father; for, at the same time that I was made a member of Christ, I became also a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven. dR. Why are we told that neither the sight nor the strength of the children was their own? St. Because we can do nothing except through the influence of the Holy Ghost. (OF Why is it said that the children received these precious gifts as they crossed the stream? St. Because it is at our Baptism that we receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. dit. What, then, is signified by the constant renewal of their sight and strength ? St. The being daily renewed by the Holy Spirit of God. dR. And how must we seek for such renewal ? St. By prayer. dEY Yes and by Holy Communion, and all the other means of grace which God lias appointed to refresh and support the Christian 28 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. in his daily walk. What is meant by the children being placed in the garden, in order to prepare them for their Father’s presence? That the Christian is to endeavour so to live in the present world, that hereafter he may be thought worthy to be with God for ever. (IT. How were the children to prepare themselves? $X. They were to keep their garments white, and hold fast their crosses. <®. In the same way, then, each one of us must prepare himself for heaven, by abstaining from sin and impurity, and holding fast the profession of Christ. Can you tell me how the sign of the cross is spoken of in the Baptismal Service? As a token that hereafter we shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under his banner, against sin, the world, and the devil, and to continue Christ’s faithful soldiers and servants unto our life’s end. (!T. How are sin, the world, and the devil represented in the allegory ? They are the poisons, the snares, the serpents, and the other dangers of the garden. (JR. Ton are right. But, instead of fighting against them, we are here, under a different image, represented as passing safely through them by means of the shadow of the cross. What will be the fate of those unhappy children who neglect that safeguard? When they leave the garden, they will never again behold the glorious bun, but they will be cast into outer darkness, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 29 ffi. Such in another world will he the punishment of the faithless followers of Christ. But now tell me how it was that, while the children were in the garden, there was so much variety in the shadows that fell from different crosses? Is it because religion seems a bright and cheerful thing to some, while it is sad and gloomy to others? ffi. It is so. God has ordained that Christianity should shed, as it were, a different complexion on different minds, and that the course, which is easy and natural to one disposition, should be hard and laborious to another. There is one great cause of this variety, that will be explained in the following part of the allegory. You will find that those children who neglected for a time to consult their crosses, afterwards found it a very difficult task to tread in their shadow; for though we are told that the ways of wisdom are, in themselves, ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace, the return to them is always by a hard way and rugged path. £1. Little Innocence found them peaceful and pleasant, because she always continued there. (OL She did so for the short time she remained in the garden. You know what is meant by her fading away? St. She was taken to heaven. O. And by the shadow that still seemed to fall from her cross? St. The remembrance that she left upon the earth. O. Yes. There is an almost sacred feeling with which we regard everything connected with those little ones who have lived and died in the Lord. The shadow of their cross may indeed be said to rest on each innocent amusement and occupation that they have loved; 30 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. and the images from other crosses will cluster around it, for no soil is more kindly to good and holy resolutions than the remembrance of departed friends: “to be with them is to be with Christ.” There are affections and sympathies which are fixed upon them during their lives, which by their deaths it often pleases God to draw to * Himself. CHAPTER II. WHEN WITH DEAR FRIENDS SWEET TALK I HOLD, AND ALL THE FLOWERS OF LIFE UNFOLD; LET NOT MY HEART WITHIN ME BURN, EXCEPT IN ALL I THEE DISCERN. W HEN Innocence had thus early been called away from the garden, 1 selected one of the little group of mourners, whom I next resolved to watch. He was a very beautiful boy, and had been one of the favourite friends of Innocence, and when I first, observed him, was crying bitterly for his loss. But he soon 32 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. dried liis tears, and as I looked on liis clear and open forehead, the name of “Mirth” was written there. Long after he had ceased weeping, I could see that he had not forgotten liis companion, for * he continued to play in the same field in which Innocence had left him, and affection for his former playmate ever led him to choose those flowers on which the shadow of her cross was linger¬ ing still. While he remained there, I knew that the hoy was safe from danger; hut afterwards, when he began to wander to other parts of the garden, I grew alarmed lest some evil might hefal him; for, though he grasped his own cross firmly in his hand, so quick and lively was his step, that I feared he might soon he tempted to move beyond its shadow. However, I was beginning to hope there was no good reason for my alarm; for, though he gathered more abundantly than Innocence had done of the flowers that' were by the way, I observed that he never touched them until the shadow of his cross had rested upon them ; and if there were any on which it did not fall, he passed them by. But before long, it seemed that his eye was attracted by a beautiful bed of roses and violets that grew on a little hill, at the foot of which he was walking: I saw him hold his cross for a moment between them and the sun, and he quite laughed for joy as he caught a glimpse of its shadow there; he bounded lightly forward, and, intending to gather a lovely nosegay, began in haste to scramble up the hill. Now, this I perceived with sorrow, for I was afraid the little fellow had not observed that there were many roses there on which no pait of the shadow fell; and I feared lest in his eagerness he THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 33 should seize one of them, and, by doing so, I knew not what risk lie might incur. There was good cause for my fear. The child, breathless with his scramble up the hill, stretched out his hand and plucked the finest rose that he saw; it was one of those on which no shadow had fallen, and he had scarce held it a moment, when a wasp, that had concealed itself among the leaves, crawled out and stung him on the finger: the poor boy screamed with pain, for the sting of the wasp was unlike anything he had felt before. He hastily dashed the flower to the ground; but one leaf, I observed, was blown back by the wind, and rested on his clothes: Mirth saw it also, and brushed it away; but, when it was gone, there was a stain on those garments which had been so white before. It was but a very little spot, and, as the tears trickled down upon it, grew so faint that it could hardly be discerned at all; but still the spot was there. The smart, however, that the sting caused was of no long continuance, and in a short time little Mirth was going merrily on his way, as though no accident had happened. By and by, as lie was walking by a bright path across a held, one of his former companions perceived him, and ran over the green to meet him; I could see that lie shook Mirth warmly by the hand, and persuaded him that, for a little while they should amuse themselves together. But T was grieved that the friend of Inno¬ cence should join company with the child, for there was many a soil on his white garments, and there was no cross in his hand, and the name of “Wayward” was written on his brow. I thought, too, that Mirth looked shocked when first he met him, and I heard him ask after his cross; but Wayward laughed, and told him it 34 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. was so troublesome to keep it always in his hand, that he now carried it in his clothes. He said, however, that he never forgot to take it out when there were any difficulties in the way ; but in the green fields and smooth paths he needed not its shadow. Now, methought, the stains on his clothes proved that, without the cross, neither the greenest fields nor the smoothest paths were safe ; but it would seem that Mirth did not observe them, for his mind appeared at ease, when he found Wayward had not thrown away the cross, and the two boys walked on together. Little Mirth still, however, kept his own cross in his hand, and its shadow ever fell clear and distinct on the bright path he trod; while W ay ward walked heedlessly along the soft turf by his side, and laughed at the caution of his companion. But I soon observed that Mirth was growing weary of the narrow way, and tired of placing his footsteps exactly in the print of the cross, and that by little and little he deviated from it; he ventured first close by the side of the grass, and then just to tread on its edge, and so he walked nearer to his companion. Now they had not gone far, when, at the point where the turf looked most soft and inviting, they fell into swampy ground, and in an instant the green miry water rose above their ankles. Poor Mirth, directly he felt it, leaped back upon the road, for it was at no great distance; but before he could reach it his garments were already splashed, and there was a sad shade of green all around their border. Whyward fell deeper into the marsh than Mil th, because he had been walking farther from the path ’ but, when he had forced his way out, he treated his misfortune lightly, and scarce stopped a moment to wipe the dirt from his clothes; nor did THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 35 I wonder at this, for they were so stained before, that the splashes of the green mnd could hardly be seen on them at all; but it made me feel the more pity for Mirth, as he looked sadly at his own stains; and I thought how foolish a thing it was, for a child, still clad in raiment of white, to walk with one whose garments were so defiled. It seemed, however, that Mirth thought not of that, for he still allowed Wayward to accompany him ; nay, in a little while I almost fancied he began to look discontented at the whiteness of his clothes, for the fear of spoiling them often forced him to pick his way over stones with care, while his companion could walk heedlessly through the mud. Alas! if it were so, the silly child had not much longer such cause for discontent; for a beautiful butterfly in a neighbouring field caught the attention of Wayward, and in a moment away he ran, calling to his companion to follow; and I saw that, for the first time, Mirth joined in the pursuit without consulting his cross. Now, I have no doubt the boys thought they would have to go but a very little way before they gained possession of their prize,—for 1 too fancied so at first; but, as they came near, the butterfly opened its bright wings to the sun, and fluttered away, settling first on one flower, then on another, and ever, as the children stretched out their hands to take it, just eluded their grasp. A long and wearisome chase it led them in the end. At first they went merrily through the green fields; but afterwards, as they grew more eager in the pursuit, and the bright butterfly tempted them on, they climbed steep hills, and scrambled down into the valleys beneath; they ran through brooks, leaped over ditches, and broke through hedges in their way, and yet the provoking insect was no nearer than before. And 36 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. I said, “ Oh that Mirth had tried whether the shadow of his cross would rest on its glittering wings, before he began thus hastily to follow it! ” for many a splash of mud had fallen upon him in the eagerness of the pursuit, and his little hands were so scratched with thorns, that in some parts they had sprinkled his clothes with blood. At length they came to a smooth grassy plain, at the border of which was a lovely grove of myrtles. The butterfly flew high in the air towards the distant trees, for there was neither plant nor flower in the plain itself. Now, I observed that Mirth had out¬ stripped Wayward in the eliase; and as he ran heedlessly on, gazing upwards towards the butterfly, his foot struck against a stone concealed in the long grass, and he was thrown violently to the ground. The careless child was well nigh stunned by the fall; and when he recovered his feet, he trembled exceedingly, and the mark of the green grass was deeply imprinted on his clothes; yet I was glad that the accident made him grasp his little cross, which before he had well nigh forgotten, the more flrmly in his hand. Just as his companion joined him, he held it thoughtfully towards the sun; and when he saw that its image was not reflected on the wood, but on a hard dull path, leading in an opposite direction, he at once turned aside from the beautiful butterfly which he had so long been following. Wayward too seemed a little frightened by his companion’s fall, tor he also took out his cross; and when its dim shadow fell on the same hard, dull path, he too relinquished the pursuit of the butterfly, and accompanied Mirth. So the two boys walked on, sadly and THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS 37 silently, together; but Mirth limped a little as he went, from the pain of his fall. Very glad I was that they had not ventured to enter the wood; for, though they saw them not, I could see the bright eyes of a serpent gleaming from beneath the myrtle on which THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 33 the butterfly was resting. He seemed to be waiting anxiously for the approach of the children, and I doubt not there was poison in his fang. Now, I have said that the road by which Mirth and Wayward left the grove of myrtles was dull and hard; for I had by this time discovered that, soft and beautiful as every thing looked in the distance, there were not only some paths in the garden deceitful and dangerous, but others hard and dull. It led them by many a withered leaf and faded flower; and each leaf and flower was watered by the tears of Mirth, for his eyes were ever fixed downward upon the ground: he was as one who was unconscious whither he was walking, and whose only care was so to measure each step that it might fall exactly in the shadow before him. Wayward, too, for a little while, looked downward also, and step by step trod in the same path with his companion: but, when they had gone on for some time in safety, from the force of habit he left off carrying his cross in his hand, and concealed it as he had done before; and then he soon grew weary of the dulness of the road, and longed to turn aside to some of the pleasant paths on the right hand or on the left. He appeared to me, however, to be half afraid of wandering alone; for I heard him coaxing Mirth to leave off watching those gloomy images, and to come and join with him in some merry game, saying that, by doing so, he would the sooner forget the effects of his fall. But Mirth still walked on in the same disconsolate way, with his eyes fixed upon the ground. His heart was then indeed too full of heaviness to suffer him to think of play at all; yet, perhaps, he might not have been able to resist very long the entreaties of Wayward, had it THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 39 not so happened that the hoys did not much further continue their walk together. A sudden turn in the dull road brought them to one of those fields over which in happier times Mirth had often loved to ramble with Innocence; and the shadow of his cross rested full on a faded lily, which had been sown and watered by the hands of his former friend. Here the poor little fellow paused, and sobbed as though his very heart would break. I too felt very sorrowful; for my mind went back to the lovely scene when the two children had been playing together in the garden, and Mirth had been taught by Innocence to find pleasure in the cross. I remembered how happy they had both looked in their shining raiment of white, and how beautiful were the first holy images which fell on the objects around them; and, above all, I recollected the hour when the dove had settled so peacefully on the cross of her who was taken, while she was fading from my view : and then, as I gazed upon the one who had been left, and saw how his garments since then had been stained by many a dark and filthy spot, the bitter thought came upon me whether, if his friend still looked upon the garden, she would recognise him now, and whether, if Mirth were called away, he would be received in that better country to which Innocence was gone. Such thoughts, alsof seemed to force themselves on the mind of Mirth ; for he knelt down by the lily to which the shadow had led him, and, as the tears chased each other down his cheeks, and fell on the stains, I could hear him murmur, “ Oh, purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean ; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow ! ” Then I knew he was speaking to the 40 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. kind Father, who was ever present among His children in the garden ; and I remembered how the Voice had told me that there were means by which the sight and strength of the children might be renewed. Presently I saw him bend low and gaze earnestly on the faded flower; and while the big tear fell upon it, methought that his eye became less dim, and there was a gleam of hope and gladness on his face, as though he could again trace upon the leaves the light and lovely outline of the cross of Innocence. Then I also, in the midst of my sorrow, was glad; and I felt that Mirth was really happier as he wept over the lily of his friend, than he had been while, in the thoughtlessness of his heart, he was chasing the painted butterfly on the green. Moreover, as I watched him, I saw him kiss his little cross and press it to his heart ; and I wondered not that he did so, for I knew it was that little cross, and that alone, which had freed him from all his perils ; for, without it, he must have been* bitten by the serpent in the myrtle grove; and had he not trod in its shadow along the hard dull road, he would not have been guided to the flower of Innocence at last. CONVERSATION ON CHAPTER II. dY Why was it that Mirth was safe while he remained where he had been playing with Innocence ? Because, as you have already said, when we think of companions and friends that are gone, our own hearts are drawn more closely to our Saviour. dit. As soon as he left that field, what was the particular danger of Mirth? He was too fond of pleasure. (3. Yes; however anxious we may be to follow the cross, if we care too much for that which is pleasant, we shall be likely to err; for good and evil grow so close together in this world, that, unless we look quietly and carefully, we shall not always be able to distinguish between them. How is this shown in the allegory? By the beautiful bed of flowers, from which Mirth, in lbs haste, gathered a rose on which the shadow did not fall. (3. What is the sting of the wasp? The pain caused by sin. r. 42 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. dfb What the mark of the rose leaf? £b The stain left by sin. When Mirth met Wayward, we are told that the cross of the latter was not in his hand: what is meant by this ? gb He was not trying to hold fast his Christian profession. dEl. Had he, then, altogether renounced the service of Christ? gb No; for he still said he kept the cross, though he did not use it. dEt. Well, then, he thought that in trifling matters he might please himself, provided he abstained from great and notorious offences. He merely designed to use his cross now and then, and forgot that it was intended to guide him every moment that lie continued in the garden. What had already been the sad consequence of this negligence ? St. He had really committed many sins, though he might consider them to be trivial, or not sins at all ; for there were spots and stains on all parts of his clothes. dll. What was the effect of Mirth’s joining him? 8b His clothes also soon lost their whiteness, for the two boys fell into a swamp together. dDt. What do we learn from this? 8b The danger of joining in the pursuits of those who talk lightly of religion, and do not profess in all things to be guided by the cross. dT. What is afterwards signified by the discontent of Mirth, when he was not able to do as Wayward did? 8b Envy at the pleasures that the wicked seem to enjoy. THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 44 0. Y es. And such envy is not only very sinful in itself, hut also, if we indulge it, is sure to lead us to share in their unlawful pursuits. How is this shown in the allegory? By the chase after the beautiful butterfly, in which Mirth united with Wayward without consulting his cross. 0. How was it that this chase led the boys so much farther than they expected ? £L Because, when we begin to follow an unlawful pleasure, we cannot be aware of all the sin and sorrow through which it will lead us. (EL Hid the children get possession of the butterfly at last ? %X. No, they gave it up in consequence of the stumble of Mirth. (Eb Why did that cause them to give it up? £L It led Mirth to considt his cross, and then he saw that its shadow fell in an opposite direction. 0. Y es. And often thus, by an unexpected stumble, it pleases God to check the sinner in his heedless course, and to awaken him to a sense of his danger. What is signified by the serpent concealed under the myrtle? Satan was lying in wait to take advantage of their sin. 0. What was the hard dull path by which the children began to return ? The path of repentance. 0.. And the withered leaves and faded flowers are the recol¬ lection of opportunities neglected and blessings forfeited, which are always strewed along it. What is signified by the return to the field of Innocence? 44 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. gt. Mirtli was led to think of the happy days that in their childhood they had passed together, and of the qniet life, and above all, of the tranquil and holy death of his former friend. dbL How did these thoughts at first affect him? £1. He wept more bitterly than before. (I). He did so, for there is nothing that causes the tears of repentance to flow more freely, than to go back in thought to days of peace and purity, and to reflect on the change that sin may have produced in our condition since those whom we once loved have been taken away. But did Mirth rest satisfied with tears alone ? i£t. No; for his sorrow led him to pray very earnestly to his F ather. (0=1. And the consequence of this was, that he soon felt happy, while he traced the mark of the cross on the faded flower of Innocence. And so it is written, “ Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. 1 ’ To what did Mirth ascribe his present comfort, and his escape from danger? £1. He ascribed everything to the little cross he had been enabled to hold in his hand. ©. And that is intended to remind us that we can do nothing of ourselves to help ourselves. It is the special grace of God that points out to the sinner the error of his way, and guides him along the path of repentance, and at length vouchsafes to him pardon and peace. CHAPTER III. BUT IF, INDEED, "WITH RECKLESS FAITII WE TRUST THE FLATTERING VOICE, WHICH WHISPERS, “TAKE THY FILL ERE DEATH, “INDULGE THEE AND REJOICE : ” TOO SURELY, EVERY SETTING DAY, SOME LOST DELIGHT WE MOURN; THE FLOWERS ALL DIE ALONG OUR AVAY, TILL WE, TOO, DIE FORLORN. TlIE tears were fast rising in my eyes as I turned them away from the kneeling child, so affecting was the scene; hut for the present I watched him no more, for about him my mind was 40 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. now at rest; but I felt fearfully anxious to trace the course of Ins companion who neglected the cross. Wayward had not seen the shadow resting on the flower, but had walked carelessly through the field; otherwise his thoughts also might have gone back to the time when he played with Innocence, and he would perhaps have wept together with his companion. He had advanced some distance before he observed that Mirth had ceased to accompany him; but as soon as he perceived it he was alarmed to find himself alone ; for, though he cared but little for the cross himself, he had felt some sort of safety from being near to one who trod within its shadow. He first looked anxiously around, and then in a hurried manner began to retrace his steps. I had no doubt that his intention was to rejoin his companion; but, short as was the distance back, in his haste he managed to lose the way, and got into a path that led him farther and farther from the field in which Mirth was kneeling. I could plainly hear his companion’s voice calling to him to return, and I saw that Wayward heard it also, for he continually paused and listened, as though he wished to ascertain the direction of the distant sound. And then the unhappy boy would shout loudly in reply, and turning to the right hand or the left, begin to hurry along some new track; but, each time that he started again, he made some fresh error in the way, and as I watched him I knew that it would be so, tor his cross was not in his hand. In a little time he had got quite to a different part of the garden from that in which he had parted with Mirth. He saw there a pretty group of children, whom he was very anxious to join; but they were frightened when they observed that he had no cross, THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 47 and one of them cried out that his dirty hands woidd soil the whiteness of their garments; so they refused to let him take part in their play. He tried one or two other groups, hut some hurried away as he approached, and others shrunk hack from his touch, until at last he found a party of hoys who had no crosses, and whose clothes were more filthy than his own. These hoys welcomed him gladly, and he began to leap and run with them. They all laughed loudly, and tried to he merry; hut no shadow fell on the ground which they trod, and they soon grew weary of laughter itself. So their game terminated in a quarrel, and that brought on blows, which added fresh stains to the clothes of these unhappy children. Even Wayward grew shocked at the scene which he now witnessed, and, hastening away from his companions, again began to ramble through the garden alone. He now seemed to he wandering to and fro without any object, as a child that was blind; hut I saw that he plenteously gathered of the flowers, and ate of the fruits that he found; and as he did so his garments became more and more discoloured, and his countenance pale and sickly, and his manner full of restlessness and languor, so that I was very greatly alarmed, for I could not hut remember how the Voice had said that there was poison in the garden. I saw, too, that W ay ward had become not only sickly, but wretched also; he no longer could derive enjoyment from anything he tasted or touched, but was suspicious of them all. Sometimes I thought he looked anxiously about him for the shadow of the cross; and yet, whether it were from indolence, or from the force of habit, or from some fatal delusion, I cannot tell, but the cross itself he did not hold. 48 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. At length in liis wanderings he came to a long high wall, on the Western side of which there was a tree loaded with nectarines, riper and more beautiful than any he had before seen. Now, at first he seemed as though lie were going to turn away, for, though he held not his cross, he knew at once that the bright sun shining in the East could shed no image there; and yet he lingered and looked wistfully at the fruit; and as he looked, he perceived one gathering from the tree, whose garments were yet white, and whose cross was in her hand. I also looked at her that gathered the fruit, and I could read the name of “Selfdeceit” imprinted upon her brow; and I saw there was something foul and horrible even in the very whiteness of her garments, and that wan and ghastly were the images that fell from her cross. Now, I began to wonder how those images were formed, and behold! there gleamed in the air behind her a dark blue flame; then I discovered that there were false meteor lights in the Garden of the Shadow of the Cross: doubtless they were placed there by the enemy of the King, in order to tempt the children to taste the poisonous fruits; but I shuddered exceed¬ ingly when I saw that the cross might thus be converted into an instrument of destruction; yet so unlike were the false images to those formed by the clear and brilliant sun in the East, that they could deceive none but the eye that had been long a stranger to the real image, and the heart that was anxious to believe them true. Even Wayward, as he drew nigh, trembled, and felt there was something unnatural in the shadows that fell on the Western wall; but when Selfdeceit offered him one of the ripest nectarines, and pointed triumphantly to the pale outline that might be traced THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 40 upon it, he was tempted, and lie took it and did eat. While he was eating, some of the juice oozed out from the fruit (for it was very ripe) and fell upon his clothes: it marked them with a stain which, though they were already much discoloured, was of a deeper crimson than any I had seen before. Wayward threw down the remainder of the nectarine and was hastening away, but Selfdeceit called to him to stop, and said that she could very easily remove the stain. So Wayward stopped, and Selfdeceit took a substance which seemed to me like chalk, and rubbed it over the spot on which the juice had fallen, and not that spot only, but over the whole of the garments of her companion, until she had produced upon them the same foul and horrible whiteness that I had remarked upon her own. When it was done, I thought that Wayward tried to smile, as though he again were clean; but the smile passed away in a sigh, for in his inmost heart he knew that the stains were hidden but not removed, and that the all-seeing eye of his Father could perceive them still. Yet he did not fly from Selfdeceit as he ought to have done, but still continued in her company, eating the fruits on which the false images fell, and allowing the treacherous chalk to be rubbed upon his clothes. The children did not walk very long together; but during that time the appearance of Wayward became so altered, that before they parted I doubt whether Mirth could have recognised him again: the form emaciated by disease, the feverish and uncertain step, the hectic flush on his sallow cheek, and the wildness in his bloodshot eye, had left but little of the gay, though careless, child who had run so lightly after the butterfly on the green. Yet, great ii 50 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. as was the change in his appearance owing to the poison on which he lived, the change that had taken place in his dress was greater still; for his garments were more disguised by the strange whiteness caused by the chalk, than they could have been by the darkest stain. He was, however, fast becoming accustomed to its use, for it was astonishing how many accidents befel W ay ward and Selfdeceit as they moved along;—sometimes they slipped, and rolled into the mire; sometimes they were tripped up, and fell on the swampy grass; sometimes they stained themselves with fruit; sometimes noxious reptiles would crawl over their clothes; and sometimes foul spots, as in a leprosy, would suddenly break out upon them,, without any cause which they could discern: and on each of these occasions, Selfdeceit would take out her chalk, and apply it to her companion’s garments and her own. In this wretched way they kept walking side by side, until they came to the borders of a great wood, and there Selfdeceit bade her companion go first, saying that she would follow; but Wayward drew back, and refused to advance farther before he had first consulted his cross. I do not know why at that particular moment he should have paused; it may be that it merely proceeded from his usual dislike to go first; or it may be he was frightened by a deep and angry sound, even as the roaring of a lion, which issued from the wood, and yet his ears had now grown so dull, that I cannot tell whether he heard it at all; and I think it most likely that he only delayed, because the scene brought back to his memory the hour in which he had stood with Mirth, at the entrance of the myrtle-grove, when the holy image had warned them both THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS 51 to turn aside. But be the cause what it may, he stood still, and drew his long-neglected cross from his bosom. It was, indeed, a scene that caused my heart to beat high with interest. Wayward was standing a little in advance of Selfdeceit, 52 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. and one step more would have brought him within the borders of the wood; and, as he raised his cross with a trembling hand, I could see a smile of mockery pass over the countenance of his companion. In a moment the meteor lights were flickering in the air around them, and a crowd of confused and ghastly shadows fell at the feet of the bewildered boy. He had suffered his eyes to become so very dim, that it was in vain he now endeavoured to distinguish the true image from the false: but I observed that from that very uncertainty he hesitated whether to advance; and I believe at last he would have turned aside, had not Selfdeceit with her own hand lighted a torch behind him, which threw one long deep shadow in the direction of the forest. Then Wayward ventured to move forward; but scarce had he made the first step, when there was a laugh as of fiends in the air, and behold! the earth opened beneath the feet of Selfdeceit, and she and her flaming torch and her whited garments were swallowed up, and I saw them no more. Together with the light which had caused it, the long deep shadow also passed away, and Wayward once more looked round him in doubt; he then saw the fate of his companion, and uttered a shrill and piercing cry, and, in his alarm dropping the cross out of his hand, he ran hastily from the wood. But now, alas! it was too late for flight; the lion, that had lain in wait for him there, had already made his fatal spring: he seized on his prey and pulled him down upon the ground, and in a moment was griping with his savage teeth, and tearing to pieces with his claws, the companion of Selfdeceit. CONVERSATION ON CHAPTER III. How was it that Wayward did not continue in the same field witli Mirth ? Because he no longer watched the shadow of the cross. That is to say, though lie appeared to be following the same course with his companion, he did not in truth resemble him; for he made no real effort to regulate each thought, word, and deed, by the rule of his Christian profession. But when lie first missed him, did he endeavour to join him again ? <3. He was very anxious to do so, and yet could not resolve to consult his cross. da. y es ; and so he afterwards wished to play with those children whose garments were still white. Now, what does this signify ? gC That sinners who are not yet hardened feel a sort of security in seeming to follow the same occupations with good men. 0 • Hid Wayward succeed in this wish ? 54 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. gC No. On the contrary, he began to play with the boys who had no crosses, and garments more filthy than his own. (Hi. And what does that signify? Careless Christians are often forced into the company of those who have advanced farther along the paths of destruction than themselves. (f). What were the fruits and flowers which afterwards so dis¬ coloured the garments of Wayward, and rendered him sickly and pale ? They were the idle pursuits and pleasures in which in mere thoughtlessness he indulged. dY What is signified by his longing for the nectarine on the western wall ? A desire which he could not help knowing was sinful, but which he still sought some excuse to gratify. (G. And did he find any such excuse? Yes ; it was afforded him by the false lights that were in the garden, and the cross that was held by Selfdeceit. (&. Who was it that placed the false lights in the garden? Satan, the enemy of the King, who is able to transform himself into an angel of light. (S. What was the state of Selfdeceit?