THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 MARK STE ADMAN; 
 
 OB, 
 
 SHOW YOUR COLORS. 
 
 FEOM THE LONDON TEACT SOCIETY. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TEACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU-STKEET, NEW YOKE.
 
 "PZ6 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Mark at Home PAGE 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Captain Jack 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 Captain Jack's Story - 34 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Leaving Home < 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The First Sunday 68 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Trials and Encouragements- 95 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 A Trial of Principle Ill 
 
 6228S5
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEK 
 
 As ia the Master, so is the Servant 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 The Scarlet Fever 150 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 The Visitor and the Sick Penitent 173 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The Return Home 198
 
 MARK STEADMAN; 
 
 OE, 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 " 
 
 MARK AT HOM.E. 
 
 THE long beams of the afternoon sun 
 were streaming down the dusty white 
 street of a seaport town in South Wales. 
 The heat had driven even those visitors 
 who usually astonish the inhabitants of 
 such a place as this by their defiance of 
 sun and glare, to take refuge in their 
 shady lodgings. Not a sound therefore 
 broke the sleepy silence of the summer 
 afternoon, and scarcely a human being 
 was to be seen, excepting that at the door
 
 6 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 of a small shop in the upper end of the 
 street a young lad was standing, who 
 every now and then came out upon the 
 pavement, and gazed down the street 
 towards the sea, as though he were look- 
 ing out for some one. 
 
 Over the door of this shop was a board, 
 on which was painted the announcement, 
 
 MARY STEADMAN, 
 
 LICENSED DEALER IN TOBACCO, SNUFFS, ETC. 
 
 while in the window was displa} T ed an 
 array of pipes of every sort and descrip- 
 tion, from the well-known sailor's short 
 pipe to the most singular productions in 
 porcelain, with twisted stems and col- 
 ored tassels. 
 
 On a pedestal inside the door stood a 
 small individual, who was not only re- 
 garded as a very important personage 
 in the Steadman family, but was also the 
 wonder and admiration of all the chil- 
 dren in the town. This was a little fig-
 
 MAKK AT HOME. 7 
 
 ure in .Highland costume, commonly 
 known by the name of Dumbiedikes, 
 who held in his hand an enormous mull, 
 supposed to contain the best Scotch 
 snuff, and from which he appeared to 
 invite all the passers-by to take a pinch. 
 The young lad who stood in the door- 
 way of this shop might have been about 
 sixteen years of age, though from his 
 height he scarcely looked as much, for 
 he was short, but at the same time firmly 
 and strongly built. The expression of 
 his face did not display any unusual 
 intelligence or quickness of perception ; 
 it indicated rather a cautious thoughtful- 
 ness, accompanied by much quiet deter- 
 mination. He did not look like a char- 
 acter so likely to gain at starting in the 
 race of life as like one who would hold 
 out without flagging to the end ; but per- 
 haps what was the most remarkable in 
 his appearance was, the utter absence of
 
 8 MAKK STEADMAN. 
 
 all thought of himself, and the perfect 
 simplicity and directness exhibited in 
 every word and action. 
 
 There was nothing indolent in his atti- 
 tude, as he stood thus in the doorway, 
 looking every now and then down the 
 street; but he appeared to be waiting 
 for some one with patient composure, 
 rather than merely endeavoring to while 
 away the time. 
 
 "Ah, old Dumbiedikes !" exclaimed 
 he at last, looking up at the little High- 
 lander on the pedestal beside him, "if 
 I ever do make a fortune, as Uncle Wat- 
 son says, you must have a new coat; 
 for I declare you have never had a bit 
 of new paint upon you these seven years, 
 and it would be hard to say now what 
 your colors are." And then the recol- 
 lection recurred to his mind that, many 
 years ago, when he was quite a little 
 boy, his father had once told him, in an-
 
 MAKE AT HOME. 9 
 
 swer to some childish question he had 
 asked about the little Highlander, that 
 the Scottish clans each wore a dress of 
 a particular color and pattern, so that, 
 as soon as you saw a man, you could tell 
 at once whether he were a Campbell, a 
 Lindsay, or a Macgregor, and thus rec- 
 ognize in him a friend or foe, and treat 
 him accordingly. "And so it is in the 
 world, Mark, as you will find some day," 
 his father added; "we must carry our 
 colors about with us, and not be ashamed 
 to show them, in order that folks may 
 see at once what we mean, and to which 
 side we wish to belong in the great strife 
 between God and the devil." 
 
 As Mark was thinking over this, and 
 reflecting that the time of which his fa- 
 ther had spoken as "some day" was 
 now probably come for him, he caught 
 sight of a woman in black, walking slowly 
 up the street. "There's mother at last,"
 
 10 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 said he to himself, "and now I shall hear 
 what Uncle Jack thinks about my going 
 to Bristol." 
 
 Mrs. Steadman soon came up, and 
 smiled as she looked at her son's ex- 
 pectant face ; she said nothing, however, 
 but quietly followed him into the house. 
 
 "I have put the kettle on, mother," 
 said Mark; "and now while you are 
 taking off your things I '11 make the tea, 
 and then you can tell me what Uncle 
 Jack thinks about it, before the children 
 come in." 
 
 Mark then carried the tea-tray with 
 the cups and saucers, and the bread and 
 butter, into the little parlor at the back 
 of the shop, where he set them out as 
 neatly as he could upon the table in 
 front of the open window, and presently 
 his mother again entered the room. 
 
 "I'm afraid you've had a very hot 
 walk, mother," said Mark, as Mrs. Stead-
 
 HARK AT HOME. 11 
 
 man took her seat at the table ; "I hope 
 you found Uncle Jack at home." 
 
 " Yes, my dear," replied she, " fortu- 
 nately, he had just come in, and so I 
 showed him Mr. Watson's letter ; and 
 after turning the matter over in his mind, 
 he came to just the same decision as we 
 did. He thinks there is no doubt that 
 you ought to go ; and he advises that 
 you should write to your Uncle Watson 
 by to-night's post, thanking him for his 
 proposal, and telling him that you will 
 hold j T ourself in readiness to come a? 
 soon as he wishes." 
 
 " Very well, "mother," replied Mark, 
 "I dare say it's all right. If I don't 
 make a fortune, as Uncle Watson proph- 
 esies, I may at any rate be able to help 
 you more than by staying at home here 
 in the shop, now that Joe is old enough 
 to take my place." 
 
 "You see, if Joe was a strong and
 
 12 JHARK STEADMAN. 
 
 healthy lad like you, it would be differ- 
 ent," said Mrs. Stead man. "It would 
 be more natural then for him to go out 
 into something else, and for you, being 
 the eldest, to take to the business here ; 
 but as it is, you know, he is often fit for 
 nothing but to lie by and be nursed, so 
 that I should be in constant anxiety if he 
 were away from me ; and besides, with 
 his health, no one would like to take 
 him." 
 
 " No, certainly," said Mark ; "there 's 
 no doubt I 'in the one to go, if any one 
 does." 
 
 "Yes," replied his mother; "and 
 though I shall miss you so much, Mark, 
 more than I can tell you, yet I think in 
 every way this will be a good thing for 
 you. Your uncle has made a good deal 
 of money in the business ; for I remem- 
 ber hearing some years ago, when your 
 aunt, your father's sister, was living,
 
 HARK AT HOME. 13 
 
 that he was considered a rich, well-to- 
 do man, and of course this may be in 
 many ways a good thing for you. He 
 has no sons, only three little girls, and 
 if you get on well with him, you might 
 get a share in the business some day. 
 Besides, as Uncle Jack says, it 7 s not 
 good for any one to spend all his life in 
 one place, just among his own family 
 and friends, and never to be tried at all, 
 so as to see the stuff he 's made of. It 
 has been very smooth sailing for you 
 hitherto ; you have had nothing to try 
 you as yet, my boy." 
 
 "That's true, mother," replied Mark 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " But still," said Mrs. Steadman, "as 
 I w r as saying to Uncle Jack when he be- 
 gan to speak of the dangers you 'd be 
 likely to meet with in the world, God is 
 as much in one place as in another, and 
 as able to keep us from falling there as
 
 14 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 here ; and I can't think that you, hav- 
 ing once begun, as I do hope and trust 
 you have, to walk in the narrow way, 
 would be for turning back and forget- 
 ting all you have heard and felt." 
 
 "I hope not, mother," answered Mark ; 
 "but I expect it's rather a different 
 thing; however, I think I will get the 
 letter-case, and write at once to Uncle 
 Watson, before the children come in." 
 
 The letter had to be re-written once 
 or twice, for it was to be a specimen of 
 Mark's best writing and composition ; 
 and before it was finished, Mary and 
 Joe Steadman, with the two younger 
 children, came in from their walk, so 
 that the evening passed away without 
 any further conversation between Mark 
 and his mother over his future prospects. 
 
 Mrs. Steadman had been a widow for 
 about six years. Neither she nor her 
 husband was a native of South Wales,
 
 MARK AT HOME. 15 
 
 but tliey had removed there from South- 
 ampton a short time after her marriage. 
 On her husband's death, the widow found 
 many kind friends around her, by whose 
 aid she had been enabled to carry on 
 the business, and thus support herself 
 and her five children. Of these, Mark 
 was the eldest; and for the last three 
 years he had helped his mother in the 
 shop ; but now his younger brother Jo- 
 seph was thirteen, and quite able to 
 take his place ; and being, moreover, a 
 delicate boy, his mother was anxious to 
 keep him near her. Something, there- 
 fore, had to be found for Mark. Uncle 
 Jack had suggested the sea ; but Mark, 
 though possessed of some of the quali- 
 ties needful to form a good sailor, had 
 not that peculiar passion for a seafaring 
 life which is so strong in some bo}\s, and 
 which carries them through all its hard- 
 ships and dangers.
 
 16 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 In her perplexity, it had occurred to 
 Mrs. Steadman to write and ask the ad- 
 vice of Mr. Watson, her husband's broth- 
 er-in-law, who had a long-established 
 linen drapery business in Bristol. In 
 reply to this letter, Mr. Watson had 
 proposed to employ Mark in his own 
 business for six months on trial ; after 
 which, if he went on well, and seemed 
 likely to succeed in this kind of employ- 
 ment, he offered to provide him with a 
 permanent situation. 
 
 It was a subject requiring a good deal 
 of consideration before either Mark or 
 his mother could decide that it would be 
 right to accept this proposal. Mr. Wat- 
 son, it was true, was Mark's uncle ; that 
 is to say, he had married the sister of 
 Mr. Steadman ; but she had been dead 
 for some years, so that the relationship 
 might almost be said to have dropped ; 
 at any rate, Mrs. Steadman's acquaint-
 
 MARK AT HOME. 17 
 
 ance with Mr. Watson was very slight 
 indeed. Another difficulty was, the de- 
 ficient education which Mark had re- 
 ceived. It was all that his mother had 
 been abje to afford him, but they both 
 felt certain it must be very inferior to 
 what other young men in that position 
 usually enjoyed ; and it was a question 
 whether he would really be competent 
 to undertake all that his uncle would 
 require of him. 
 
 There were two persons to whom they 
 decided at length to refer these perplex- 
 ities. One was Uncle Jack, whose opin- 
 ion we have already heard ; the Other 
 was Mr. Griffiths, Mark's most kind 
 friend and guide, the teacher of a Bible- 
 class to which he belonged. For the 
 last two j'ears he had taken a deep 
 interest in the fatherless boy ; and Mark 
 felt that, besides being indebted to him 
 for his impressions of religious truth 
 
 rk Stdnn.
 
 18 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 and the practical way in which he had 
 brought them to his mind, he also owed 
 him much as having awakened in him an 
 interest in many important subjects of 
 which he would otherwise have been 
 wholly ignorant. There was perhaps 
 no one who knew so well what Mark 
 was, and of what he was capable, as Mr. 
 Griffiths, and this Mark himself felt ; so 
 that he was one of the first persons to 
 be consulted as to the proposal contained 
 in Mr. Watson's letter. After talking 
 it over with him, Mark seemed to see 
 his way more clearly before him, and in 
 accordance with his advice, had fully 
 determined to accept Mr. Watson's offer, 
 and to go to Bristol at once. 
 
 Mrs. Steadman, however, could not 
 feel entirely satisfied with Mark's decis- 
 ion until she had taken counsel, as we 
 have seen, with "Uncle Jack," her 
 brother and only surviving relative ; '
 
 MAKE AT HOME. 19 
 
 but lie is far too important a character 
 to be introduced at the end of a chapter. 
 If the space occupied by each individual 
 were regulated according to his merits, 
 then many a great person would have 
 to move out of the way in order to make 
 room for Captain Jack.
 
 20 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 
 
 JOHN MASTERS or, as he was com- 
 monly called, Captain Jack, was born 
 and "rared," to use his own expression, 
 in Yarmouth, Isle of Wight. His father 
 had been the captain of a small mer- 
 chant-vessel, and as his children grew 
 up, the boys, one after another, had 
 taken to the sea as a matter of course. 
 Of the once numerous family, Mrs. Stead- 
 man and himself were now the sole sur- 
 vivors. 
 
 While he had still pursued a seafar- 
 ing life, his sister's house had always 
 been his home when in port ; but, a few 
 years before, he had received such se- 
 vere injuries in a fall from the rigging, 
 that he could now walk but with diffi-
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 21 
 
 culty, and only a short distance at a 
 time. His present abode was a small 
 house on the pier, where he lived quite 
 alone, fulfilling the office of ball-keeper, 
 that is, he had the charge of the large 
 black canvas-ball, which, as soon as the 
 tide was high enough for any vessel to 
 enter the harbor, had to be hauled to 
 the top of a mast at the pier-head ; and 
 then when the tide again went down too 
 low, down also must come the ball. At 
 night a lighted lantern took its place. 
 Morning, noon, arid night, and in all 
 weathers, Captain Jack was at his post ; 
 and often he might be seen standing at 
 the foot of the mast, with his great sil- 
 ver watch in one hand, and the tide- 
 table in the other, waiting for the pre- 
 cise moment to hoist the ball. 
 
 Partly, we suppose, because he had 
 been used to a ship all his life, or pos- 
 sibly as a sort of mark of affection, Cap-
 
 22 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 tain Jack always spoke of this ball as 
 "she;" and often he would begin talk- 
 ing of it to a stranger, without any far- 
 ther introduction or explanation than 
 this, so that many persons imagined he 
 was speaking of a wife or child. He 
 had neither of these, however, which 
 may account for the way in which he 
 spoke of the ball ; but he lived, as we 
 have said, in this little house on the 
 pier, all alone, doing every thing for 
 himself in his handy sailor fashion. 
 During the greater part of the clay he 
 might be seen leaning his elbows on the 
 sea-wall, looking out over the sea, hum- 
 ming to himself an old psalm-tune ; 
 every now and then he would enter 
 into a discussion with some ancient com- 
 rade, as to what the weather was going 
 to do next ; breaking it off, perhaps, in 
 the middle by taking out his watch, and 
 saying, "She '11 be about looking out for
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 23 
 
 me now, I expect;" or, "There, have it 
 your own way : I can't keep her waiting 
 while we settle it." 
 
 Of^all the days in the week, Sunday 
 was Captain Jack's busiest ; for on that 
 day only did he attempt to walk into 
 the town, setting off early, in order to 
 reach the place of worship where he 
 always attended, in good time. Then 
 it often happened that in the middle of 
 the service the hour would arrive for 
 hauling down or hoisting up the ball; 
 and after a little disturbance in Captain 
 Jack's pew, he would pull out his glazed 
 hat from under the seat, and march 
 forth ; always returning, however, if the 
 service were not quite over, when he 
 had done his work. 
 
 It was a trying thing for the good 
 captain if this interruption should chance 
 to occur during the singing, which was 
 a part of the service in which he took
 
 24 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 especial delight. He joined in it with 
 both heart and voice, standing with his 
 eyes fixed on his large hymn-book, held 
 at arm's length, and quite lost to gvery 
 thing else in his thorough and hearty 
 participation in the sentiments of the 
 hymn. The performance, it is true, did 
 not always give so much satisfaction to 
 those around him as it did to himself; 
 for if it happened that the hymn ex- 
 pressed any particular truth or senti- 
 ment with which he felt peculiar sym- 
 pathy, he would dwell on the words, 
 utterly regardless of the "time " at which 
 the rest of the congregation were sing- 
 ing ; so that they did not so much re- 
 gret when, as it sometimes occurred in 
 the midst of a favorite hymn, he would 
 glance at the clock, then suddenly slam 
 together the covers of his hymn-book, 
 get out his hat, and go forth to his duty. 
 As soon as the captain had eaten his
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 25 
 
 Sunday dinner, he would take a stroll 
 on the pier, and entering into conver- 
 sation with the sailors lounging about 
 there, he would endeavor to persuade 
 some of them to come with him to the 
 service on board the Bethel ship and a 
 happy man was 'Captain Jack, as he 
 hobbled along, followed by three or four 
 young fellows whom he had induced to 
 accompany him where they might hear 
 the glad tidings of salvation and victory 
 over sin. If he happened to meet any 
 good man of his acquaintance on the 
 way, he would telegraph to him his suc- 
 cess and his gratification at it, by a 
 beaming smile, a knowing twitch of his 
 eyebrow, and a jerk of his shoulder in 
 the direction of his comrades. 
 
 But we must pay a visit to Captain 
 Jack in his own home. It- is another 
 warm evening ; the tide is coming in, 
 and the great ships come floating into
 
 26 MAKK STEADMAN. 
 
 the harbor. The black ball has just 
 been hoisted to the top of the mast, so 
 that the captain, without anxiety or fear 
 of disturbance, can devote himself to 
 the preparation of a nice little tea, which 
 he is getting ready in order to do honor 
 to the farewell visit ofliis nephew, Mark 
 Steadman. On the hob of the little grate 
 stands the black teapot, set to draw ; 
 while on the fender is placed a plate of 
 toast, well soaked in salt butter. Before 
 the fire stands Captain Jack himself, 
 carefully watching the grilling of a mack- 
 erel on the gridiron over the coals ; 
 every now and then, however, taking 
 his eyes off the fish to glance at the 
 large hymn-book set upon the mantel- 
 shelf, from which he is singing one of 
 his favorite hymns : 
 
 " Through all the changing scenes of life, 
 
 In trouble and in joy, 
 The praises of my God shall still 
 My heart and tongue employ.
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 27 
 
 "Of his deliverance I will boast, 
 
 Till all who are distressed, 
 From my example comfort take, 
 And charm their griefs to rest. 
 
 "Oh, make but trial of his love, 
 
 Experience will decide 
 How blest are they, and only they, 
 Who in his truth confide. 
 
 "Fear him, ye saints, and you will then 
 
 Have nothing else to fear : 
 Make you his service your delight, 
 Your wants shall be his care." 
 
 Just as the captain was singing this 
 last verse, Mark came in ; and then the 
 teapot, the toast, and the mackerel were 
 all put upon the table, and they both 
 sat down to their meal. When Mark 
 had eaten as much as he could and 
 should, though not so much as his uncle 
 would have had him take, Captain Jack 
 put away the cups and plates, and then 
 sat himself down in a large wooden 
 chair, close by the little window which 
 looked across the pier into the harbor.
 
 28 MAEK STEADilAN. 
 
 After a few remarks and criticisms on 
 the different kinds of "craft"' that were 
 coming in, the captain suddenly ex- 
 claimed, "I say, Mark, what's that big 
 parcel down under your chair ?" 
 
 Mark looked down, and saw under his 
 chair a brown paper parcel. "I don't 
 know, uncle," said he, taking it up. "I 
 did n't see it there just now." 
 
 "It's no property of mine," said the 
 captain, laughing and rubbing his hands, 
 "I know that; and as finding's keep- 
 ing, why, you'd better keep it, Mark." 
 
 Mark turned the parcel round, but 
 there was no address upon it; and it 
 was tied up so skilfully, with so many 
 knots, that it was impossible to discover 
 what were its contents without opening 
 it. 
 
 "Open it, lad," said his uncle. "There 
 is no direction ; let us see if it is for any 
 of us."
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 29 
 
 Mark opened the parcel, and in it 
 found a handsome Bible, a hymn-book 
 like the one the captain always used, 
 and four shillings. Inside the Bible was 
 written 
 
 ' ' MARK STEADJIAN. " 
 
 "Holy Bible, book divine ; 
 Precious treasure it is thine." 
 
 and in the hymn-book Mark also found 
 his own name, with the words 
 
 ' ' For this our truest interest is, 
 
 Glad hymns of praise to sing, 
 And with loud songs to bless his name, 
 A most delightful thing. " 
 
 "Thank you, uncle,''' exclaimed Mark, 
 when he had looked at the books. "It 
 is very kind indeed to get me these." 
 
 "But I've never said as 'twas I put 
 them there," replied the captain. "You'd 
 better keep your thanks till you know 
 where they came from. Anyways you're 
 the owner, it seems ; and I think, my
 
 80 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 boy, the person who gave them to yon 
 hopes arid trusts you '11 make a good use 
 of them. I am sure I may say that, let 
 it be who it may." 
 
 " I hope I shall," replied Mark quiet- 
 
 iy- 
 
 "I've no doubt," said Captain Jack, 
 " that your mother has said to you every 
 thing, almost, that can be said in the 
 way of good advice and counsel ; for 
 she 's a good" woman, Mark, and a wise 
 one too, which is more than can be said 
 of most of them but that 's neither here 
 nor there. However, what I was going 
 to say is this, my boy : your mother 
 don't, perhaps, rightly know how hard 
 you '11 find it to keep to the good way, 
 when every thing 's dead against you. 
 It 's one thing sculling about here in the 
 harbor, in the smooth water ; but it 's 
 no more like making way against wind 
 and tide, than running down hill is like
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 31 
 
 climbing those rocks. I know 3*011 wish 
 to be a good lad, Mark : and I do hope 
 you have reall}" made up your mind to 
 be on the Lord's side, and to sail under 
 the great Captain's orders ; but there 's 
 just one thing I 'd like to say to you, 
 now you 're going to leave port for the 
 first time, and that is show your colors. 
 Wherever you go, do n't be ashamed of 
 them. Cany your colors flying, so that 
 all you meet may see at once who and 
 what you are. If you stick up the ene- 
 my's colors, just to avoid a bit of a 
 tussle at first, you '11 be in for it soon ; 
 for they won't let you haul them down 
 again, and it'll go hard but you'll be 
 sailing in his service afore long. I know 
 what it is myself; and I always found, 
 if I let folks know pretty soon what I 
 was, or, at least, wished to be, I might 
 get a fe$~ hard names to begin with ; 
 but, after a bit, they 'd let me alone,
 
 82 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 excepting as they kept a sharp lookout 
 to see me fall ; which, you see, is a good 
 thing in its way, too. because it makes 
 you keep a good lookout ahead your- 
 self, and mind where you 're going, and 
 follow your chart. I 've seen many a 
 young chap, when first he came aboard, 
 who didn't half like what he saw and 
 heard ; but instead of speaking out, he'd 
 make some other excuse as it were, to 
 get out of it for awhile; but after a bit, 
 he 'd be sure to be drawn into it ; for 
 'tis by the Lord's power we stand, and 
 I don't see how we can go to ask him 
 for his help when we are denying him, 
 and making believe we 've got nothing 
 to do with him. Tis half the battle, I 
 do assure you, to show your colors at 
 once." It isn't much I can say to yon, 
 my boy, for I never was a great talker 
 myself more 's the pity, for* I might 
 have done more good, may-be ; so you'll
 
 CAPTAIN JACK. 33 
 
 just mind this now, Mark, from Uncle 
 Jack, wo n't you ?" 
 
 "I will try, uncle," replied Mark. 
 
 "And now," said the captain, "I've 
 been turning over in my mind, most all 
 day, what we could do to make an even- 
 ing of it ; for, you see, I never was the 
 good company that some are. But, if 
 you like it, AVC '11 sing a hymn, and then 
 I '11 tell you the story of my brother 
 Ben. Perhaps you may n't have heard 
 it, for your mother was such a little lass 
 then." 
 
 "No," replied Mark; "I don't think 
 I ever heard his name before." 
 
 "It's a long yarn," said Captain Jack, 
 "but you ought to hear it; so, when 
 we 've sung this hymn 
 
 " 'Am I a soldier of the cross, 
 A follower of the Lamb ?' 
 
 I '11 tell you the story of poor Ben."
 
 34: MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S >TORY. 
 
 "LET me see," began the captain, 
 counting on his fingers; "two tens is 
 twenty, and twelve is thirty-two, and 
 eight more is forty; isn't it? Well, it 
 might be forty years ago, when one 
 afternoon my brother Ben and I were 
 down on the beach by Yarmouth, Isle of 
 Wight, which, as you know, was where 
 we were born and brought up. I've 
 seen a good many places here and there, 
 great cities and fine streets, and grand 
 houses, and coral reefs, and palm-trees ; 
 but just put me on the cliff above where 
 the forts are now built, with a fine breeze 
 down the Channel, and the tide on the 
 turn, and to my mind there ; s no finer 
 sight in the whole world than to stand
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STOBY. 35 
 
 there and watch the great ships coming 
 down from Southampton, with all their 
 sails up and flags flying. But, however, 
 that 's neither here nor there as I was 
 a-saying, it's forty years ago that I stood 
 there with my brother Ben, when all at 
 once he said, 'Let's go across and see 
 how Joe is ;' for, you see, Joe was work- 
 ing in the ship-building line at Lyming- 
 ton. 
 
 "There was nothing I liked so well 
 as to go about anywhere with Ben, for 
 I was a little fellow, just twelve, and 
 he was rising eighteen, and as tall and 
 strong as ever I 've seen any one since. 
 He was just come back from his second 
 voyage, and was looking out for another 
 berth, and I 'd been promised to go with 
 him next time. I 've often heard moth- 
 er say that no woman had more need to 
 thank God than she, for such a good 
 son as Ben was.
 
 36 MARK STEADMAX. 
 
 " Well, we went over to Lymington 
 that afternoon, and we found Joe at 
 work on a very fine yacht ; so, after 
 talking over this and that, he tells Ben 
 about a gentleman, a Lord C- , who 
 was clown there looking out for a crew 
 for this yacht. ' It 's only a three months' 
 cruise in the Mediterranean,' says Joe; 
 'the pay is first-rate, and you '11 be sure 
 to get a handsome present at the end 
 of the voyage besides. I'd go, by all 
 means, if I was you ; he wants another 
 man and a boy, and that will just do 
 for you and Jack.' I remember Ben 
 made some objections at first, because 
 he didn't much like these fancy things; 
 but after a bit Joe talked him round, 
 and I did my best, too, for I was mad 
 to go ; so the end of it was that we went 
 up to the hotel in Lymington, where 
 Lord C - was staying, and he engaged 
 us both at once I can see Lord C
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 37 
 
 now, as if it was only yesterday, as he 
 was standing at the inn door with an- 
 other gentleman, who I knew afterwards 
 was Mr. Darlington. He was a tall, 
 light-haired young man, almost as fair 
 as a woman, and he had on a blue coat 
 with bright buttons, and his collar turned 
 off from his neck, as I ? ve seen some 
 young gentlemen wear it in these days. 
 I ? d heard plenty of bad language before 
 then among the sailors down on the pier, 
 but I never heard any body in all my 
 life swear so awful as this young gen- 
 tleman. I could see Ben was n't very 
 well pleased with his bargain, though 
 he didn't say much to me about it as 
 we went back. The night before we 
 left, as mother was packing our chest, 
 she put in a new Bible, in which she 
 wrote my name ; and then she said, 
 ' There 's only one thing I want to ask 
 of you, Jack, and that is, that you won't
 
 38 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 forget to pray to God every night and 
 morning, nor to read your Bible when- 
 ever you can. Ben gave me this prom- 
 ise when he went out on his first voy- 
 age, and I don't believe he's ever broke 
 it,' 
 
 " The next morning early we went 
 over to Lymington, and got on board 
 the yacht, where we found every thing 
 ready to sail. AVe were out, as I re- 
 member, by the afternoon tide, and be- 
 fore night were going down the Channel 
 with a stiff breeze. For the first few 
 days, you may fancy, I didn't know 
 much about what was going on in the 
 yacht, for I was very sick, and wished 
 myself home again with mother a hun- 
 dred times. Ben came sometimes to see 
 how I was getting on, but he always 
 laughed at me, and said I should be all 
 right after a bit, When we had got past 
 the Bay of Biscay, I began to find my
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 39 
 
 sea-legs, and to run about as usual, and 
 then I found what a bad lot we 'd got 
 among ; and the gentlemen, I must say, 
 beat the men, for the}^ seemed to take a 
 downright delight in mocking at every 
 thing good. From that time to this I 
 have never been in such a crew as that 
 was. I noticed pretty soon that, some- 
 how or other, there was a great deal of 
 ill-wind against Ben ; there was n't one 
 of the men that had a civil word for 
 him, and I knew it was because he 
 wouldn't join them in their evil ways; 
 but as he never spoke about it to me, I 
 said nothing to him. 
 
 "The second Sunday we were on 
 board I shall never forget. I was too 
 sick the first Sunday to do any thing 
 more than I was forced to do, but this 
 day was quiet enough, and we were 
 making way slowly down the Mediter- 
 ranean. After dinner, Ben said to me,
 
 40 MAUK STEADMAN. 
 
 'Come, Jack, we've had no service to- 
 day j let us read a bit out of the good 
 book.' So I went and fetched my new 
 Bible out of the chest, and we got into 
 as quiet a corner as we could, and be- 
 gan to read. For some time no one 
 took notice of us, and -we talked about 
 what we were reading, which I remem- 
 ber was the history of Daniel being put 
 into the den of lions because he would 
 not leave off praying to God. At last 
 one of the men came up and asked us 
 what we were after there. 
 
 "'Reading the Bible,' said Ben, as 
 quiet as possible. Thereupon the man 
 broke out, calling us all manner of 
 names, and what was worse, saying all 
 kinds of dreadful things about the word 
 of God itself. I remember so well how 
 I crept behind Ben and watched the 
 man, expecting every moment that God 
 would strike him dead for talking as he
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 41 
 
 did about the Bible ; but, you see, I 
 did n't know then all the mercy and for- 
 bearance of the Lord in sparing sinners, 
 nor that the blessed Saviour was willing 
 to receive even such as he. After a 
 bit, one or two more of the crew came 
 up, and they wanted to get the book 
 from Ben to look at it, as they said ; 
 but he knew it was only for their wicked 
 fun ; so Ben put thp book into the front 
 of his shirt, and folding his arms, said 
 he would give it to no one, for it was 
 God's book; but if they really wished 
 to know what was in it, and had a mind 
 to listen, he would read to them out of 
 it. At this they only laughed, and just 
 at that moment the mate seeing Lord 
 C- - and Mr. Darlington coming up 
 the cabin stairs on deck, he made off 
 and told them what was going on. 
 
 "Mr. Darlington laughed, and said it 
 was highly diverting ; but Lord C
 
 42 MAKK STEADMAN. 
 
 was furious, and swore lie 'd have the 
 book and throw it overboard, for he 'd 
 have no such sneaking, mcthodistical 
 nonsense on board his vessel. At that 
 two or three of the men would have laid 
 hands on Ben to force the book from 
 him ; but Mr. Darlington, laughing all 
 the while, says, 'Come, my lord, we can- 
 not expect to find enlightened views 
 among sailors ; you and I are above this 
 folly, but we must allow a certain amount 
 of superstition to the ignorant. The fel- 
 low will only think himself a blessed 
 martyr if you allow this to proceed any 
 farther ; besides, according to the rights 
 of man, it is his property, and he is jus- 
 tified in defending it.' So Mr. Darling- 
 ton put his hand into Lord C 's arm, 
 and they walked towards the other end 
 of the vessel, my lord vowing all the 
 while that lie would get rid of us as 
 soon as he got to Naples, for he 'd have
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 43 
 
 no such mean cowardly fellows on board 
 the yacht. Bnt he did n't think what 
 was going to happen when he called 
 Ben a coward. 
 
 "It wasn't very smooth sailing for 
 Ben and me after this, as you "might 
 suppose, but it would .take too long to 
 tell all that the men would do to vex 
 and plague us ; and Lord C- , I must 
 say. was always ready to set them on. 
 It 's a wonder to me now, when I think 
 of the grace and help the Lord must 
 have given us, to keep us as he did. 
 For my part, I could only ask every 
 hour almost when we should get to Na- 
 ples ; and then Ben would talk to me 
 and remind me of the patience of our 
 blessed Lord, and how he put up with 
 worse things from wicked men when he 
 was on earth ; and all this he bore, too, 
 for our sakes, and instead of the punish- 
 ment we deserved for our sins, so that
 
 44 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 it was hard if we could n't bear a little 
 for him. 'And don't you remember, 
 too,' said Ben, 'the stories of the mar- 
 tyrs in mother's book at home, how they 
 all their lives had to put up with what 
 we have to endure only for a little time. 
 Cheer up, Jack, it will soon be over ; if 
 all this brings us to love and trust the 
 Saviour more, we shall bless Grod for it 
 some day.' 
 
 "It was one evening that we came in 
 sight of the coast of Italy, and the next 
 morning we were to land in Naples. I 
 went down to my berth pleased enough 
 to think that it was our last night aboard 
 this yacht ; but I had irt been asleep 
 more than an hour or so, when I woke 
 up all of a sudden, hearing a great run- 
 ning to and fro on the deck, and cries 
 of Fire ! In a moment I was dressed and 
 on the deck, where the men were already 
 getting the boat down. I saw the flames
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STOBY. 45 
 
 breaking ou^ in several places, and every 
 body was getting into the boat as quick 
 as possible. It was Ben's watch that 
 night, and the moment he saw me come 
 tip, he took hold of me to put me into 
 the boat. Mr. Darlington, I remember, 
 was the first to leave the ship, and we 
 were the last. I was just getting down, 
 with Ben behind me, when all of a sud- 
 den one of the men in the boat called 
 
 out, 'Where is Lord C ? Has any 
 
 one seen him ? ' 
 
 '"It's of no use to wait, 7 said Mr. 
 Darlington; 'some of you ought to have 
 thought of him before. He was drink- 
 ing all last evening, and he will never 
 be able to leave his cabin. Pull off, 
 and let us save ourselves if we can.' 
 
 "'One moment,' cried Ben, and he 
 sprung back into the yacht. In another 
 minute he was at the side of the ship 
 again, with Lord C in his arms. My
 
 46 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 lord was so drunk he couldn't stand, 
 and did n't seem to know where he was. 
 He was lowered into the boat by Ben, 
 and the men had hardly got hold of him, 
 when the plank, or something that Ben 
 stood on, gave way. He staggered and 
 caught at a rope hanging there, but he 
 missed it, and then fell back into the 
 burning vessel. 
 
 "'Pull for your lives!' shouted Mr. 
 Darlington, 'the yacht's going down.' 
 
 "I remember I tried to jump into the 
 water, but some one held me back, and 
 I don't know rightly what happened 
 afterwards, till I found the sun was 
 shining, and we were landing at the 
 quay of Naples. 
 
 "When Lord C - came to himself, 
 he was terribly cut up about what had 
 happened. He wanted me to stay with 
 him still, but I could think of nothing 
 but getting home as quick as I could ;
 
 CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 47 
 
 so then he took a passage for me on 
 board a vessel that was leaving for Eng- 
 land. He sent my mother a present of 
 fifty pounds, and when I went to the 
 hotel to thank him, he said to me as I 
 was going off, 'Stick to your colors, boy ; 
 there must be something in religion when 
 it makes a man so brave and good as 
 your poor brother. I can't tell you how 
 I feel when I think what it would have 
 been for me, if I had gone down instead 
 of him. As for him, I am sure, if there 
 is a heaven, he is there; and for me, I 
 can only hope I may be able to make a 
 better use of the life he has saved at 
 the cost of his own.' 
 
 "And now, I am sure, I needn't tell 
 you, Mark, that I have never forgot my 
 first voyage," concluded Captain Jack. 
 
 "Of Lord C I have never heard 
 
 since, nor whether he really led a dif- 
 ferent life ; but my poor brother's death,
 
 48 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 and especially his good example on 
 board the yacht, and the way he used 
 to talk to me, so laid hold of my mind, 
 that I could have no peace until I had 
 learned to love and trust the same Sav- 
 iour, and determined to spend my life 
 in his service ; and may God bless you, 
 my dear boy, and lead and keep you in 
 the same way. Now we ? H sing, if you 
 like, the hymn, 'Give me the wings of 
 faith to rise; 'Old Wmchester' tune.'' 
 
 So Mark and his uncle sang together 
 those beautiful words, beginning, 
 
 "Give rue the wings of faith to rise 
 
 Within the veil, and see 
 The saints above, how great their joys, 
 How bright their glories be. " 
 
 And then Mark wished his uncle good 
 evening, and returned home.
 
 LEAVING HOME. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LEAVING HOME. 
 
 PUNCTUALLY at eleven o'clock the 
 next morning, Mark might have been 
 seen on the deck of the steamer which 
 was to convey him to Bristol. The last 
 good-bys at home had been said, and 
 now his mother and one of his sisters 
 stood waving their handkerchiefs to him 
 from the shore, when the bell rang, the 
 paddle-wheels began to splash the wa- 
 ter, the plank was taken up, and the 
 vessel was steaming her way out of the 
 harbor. At the pier-head stood Cap- 
 tain Jack, with one arm round the mast 
 on which the ball was hoisted, while 
 with the other he waved his glazed hat, 
 and shouted, " God bless you, my boy !
 
 60 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 Cheer up, my hearty !" as the steamer 
 passed below. 
 
 The day was perfectly calm, and the 
 blue summer sea had scarcely a ripple 
 upon it excepting where the vessel divi- 
 ded its waters ; so that Mark experi- 
 enced none of the uncomfortable sensa- 
 tions common to young sailors, but stood 
 for some time at the stern of the vessel, 
 watching the well-known rocks and pier 
 as they gradually faded out of sight. 
 Then he sat down, and began to realize 
 to himself that he had actually left his 
 home behind him, and with it the imme- 
 diate presence of that affection which had 
 been perpetually around him from his 
 infancy. He knew that whatever kind 
 friends he might meet with in his new 
 life, he never could be to them all that 
 he had been in the eyes of those from 
 whom he was now separated; and he 
 thought that this separation would be no
 
 LEAVING HOME. 51 
 
 mere temporary parting, but that it was 
 the commencement of a final breaking 
 away from the guardianship and restraint 
 hitherto exercised over him, as well as 
 a removal from the habits and influen- 
 ces of his old life. His course as yet 
 had been, as Uncle Jack expressed it, 
 like a little boat floating peacefully in a 
 safe harbor ; but now his capabilities 
 and powers of endurance were to be 
 tried among the breakers and quick- 
 sands in the great ocean of the world. 
 Of the dangers to be met with there 
 Mark knew very little ; but let it be 
 remembered, it is not an acquaintance 
 with the wrong road which will enable 
 any one to walk in the right ; and though 
 Mark had very little idea of the snares 
 lying before him, yet he knew much, 
 both from instruction and from experi- 
 ence, of the many heart-felt joys which 
 are ever springing- up among the rough-
 
 52 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 nesses of the strait and narrow path. 
 As he thought of the unknown tempta- 
 tions and trials which he was now going 
 forth to encounter, he felt some fear, for 
 he was aware of the treachery of his 
 own nature, which would always be for 
 yielding quietly, rather than for offer- 
 ing any resistance ; but he lifted up his 
 heart in prayer that the Saviour, who 
 knows the world better than any human 
 being can, who has been in it himself, 
 and yet not of it, would be continu- 
 ally with him, upholding, guiding, and 
 strengthening him every moment. 
 
 Mark had, many times before this, en- 
 deavored to exercise that faith in Christ 
 which consists in trusting the soul to his 
 care as its Saviour, but he had hitherto 
 only thought of being saved at last from 
 the future punishment merited by his 
 sins in another world ; now he found 
 that he needed a Saviour for his soul in
 
 LEAVING HOME. 63 
 
 this life as well as in the hour of death ; 
 and that before the time came when this 
 final salvation should be his, he had to 
 run a race through a road filled with 
 dangers, to fight a good light with sur- 
 rounding foes, and to hold fast the faith, 
 while a thousand subtle adversaries 
 strove with superhuman cunning to 
 pluck it from him. 
 
 Then he thought of what, Uncle Jack 
 had said about showing his colors, and 
 he wondered whether it meant that he 
 was to begin at once to talk to other peo- 
 ple of those things which were so pre- 
 cious and interesting to him, but which 
 might not be so to them ; or whether he 
 ought to wait till some circumstance 
 called on him to make a stand against 
 what was wrong ; and he decided that 
 this was what Uncle Jack intended. 
 
 The day appeared very long to Mark, 
 for there w r ere few passengers on board,
 
 54 MAKK STEADMAN. 
 
 and none of them seemed much disposed 
 to notice the solitary boy. His mother 
 had packed up for him a basket of nice 
 things, with which he might refresh him- 
 self during the voyage : and his teacher, 
 Mr. Griffiths, had given him a new book ; 
 so with the help of these occupations for 
 body and mind, he managed to pass the 
 time until the evening, when they reach- 
 ed the mouth of the Bristol river. The 
 usual wearisome delay occurred here, 
 there not being sufficient water for the 
 vessel to continue her way up the stream, 
 and thus the shadows of the summer twi- 
 light had already fallen on the pictu- 
 resque crags and wooded banks, when 
 the tide had risen high enough to allow 
 of their proceeding to their destination ; 
 and Mark therefore could see but little of 
 those beauties which make the scenery 
 of the Avon for a short distance as charm- 
 ing as any river scenery in England.
 
 LEAVING HOME. 55 
 
 But at length the long day's voyage 
 ended, and the passengers, with their 
 luggage, were safely landed on the quay 
 at the Hotwells ; and Mark soon found 
 himself in an omnibus, driving through 
 the streets of Bristol. It was already 
 dark when the omnibus stopped, after 
 many delays, before a shop which, though 
 closed now for the night, Mark identi- 
 fied as his uncle's, for the name of "Wat- 
 son," in large gold letters, sparkled in 
 the gas-light over the door. He rang 
 the bell at the side-entrance, and he and 
 his box were soon ushered into a nar- 
 row passage, where his first impulse was 
 to ask for his uncle ; but before he could 
 do this, a voice called out over the stair- 
 case : 
 
 "If that is Mr. Steadman, desire the 
 young gentleman to walk up stairs into 
 my sitting-room." 
 
 It was the first time that Mark had
 
 56 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 ever answered to either of these titles ; 
 but still he would have had no hesita- 
 tion in recognizing them as applied to 
 himself, even without the explanation 
 of the servant who had opened the door : 
 
 "You are to go up to Miss Finch's 
 parlor directly. ?? 
 
 At the top of the staircase Mark was 
 received by a little old lady, who made 
 him such a profound courtesy that he 
 felt quite, confused, and he returned it 
 with a bow that he was quite conscious 
 was not his best. She then threw open 
 the door of a room, and waved her hand 
 for him to enter. It was quite a relief 
 to Mark to find that the room was empty, 
 for he dreaded being ushered into the 
 presence of some still more formidable 
 being than the little old lady with her 
 short flaxen curls and upright figure. 
 After placing him a chair, Miss Finch 
 began in a very deliberate voice, as
 
 LEAVING HOME. 57 
 
 though she studied each sentence as she 
 uttered it : 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Steadinan, you have had 
 an agreeable journey." 
 
 "Very," replied- Mark, "thank you." 
 
 "You reside in Wales, I believe?" 
 said Miss Finch. 
 
 "Yes," answered Mark; "I have 
 lived there nearly all my life till 
 now." 
 
 "Allow me to express the great pleas- 
 ure that I feel in welcoming a nephew 
 of Mr. Watson beneath this roof, and 
 the hope that he may find a happj r home 
 here," said Miss Finch. 
 
 "Thank you," replied Mark. "Is 
 my uncle in ?" 
 
 "Never at this hour, Mr. Steaclman," 
 said Miss Finch. "He leaves the busi- 
 ness at six. He has, however, desired 
 me to say to you that he hopes to see 
 you to-morrow."
 
 68 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 " Does not my uncle live here ?" asked 
 Mark. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Miss Finch ; 
 "he resides in a villa at Clifton. He 
 was sorry that you had not arrived be- 
 fore his hour for leaving, and hoped that 
 you would find every thing comfortable 
 here. There was something also, I think, 
 that he wished me to say to you. Yes," 
 continued Miss Finch, tapping her fore- 
 head, " he thinks it as well, in order to 
 prevent any unpleasantness or jealousy 
 which might arise, that you should not 
 be known here as his nephew. He de- 
 sires to do all he can for you, but he 
 does not wish there should be any ap- 
 parent difference between you and the 
 other young men in the house. I be- 
 lieve this was the substance of his re- 
 marks to me on the subject. You will 
 of course, therefore, be good enough to 
 speak of him always as Mr. Watson,
 
 LEAVING HOME. 59 
 
 and not to allude to any ties of relation- 
 ship." 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mark, "since 
 Mr. Watson wishes it ;" but at the same 
 time he could not resist a depressing 
 sensation which came over him at the 
 idea that the little consolation which he 
 had been administering to himself in 
 parting from all his former friends for 
 the first time, by endeavoring to imagine 
 that he was going to a relative, who 
 would therefore feel more than a stran- 
 ger's interest or affection, was now taken 
 from him, and that he had to stand his 
 ground and fight his own -battles alone. 
 
 "And now, I believe," began Miss 
 Finch, "our interview is terminated. I 
 can only say besides, that if you have 
 any complaints to make of any thing in 
 the domestic arrangements, I hope you 
 will apply to me at once. Every thing 
 here is in my charge, and under my su-
 
 60 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 perintendence. Some of the young men 
 are not so gentlemanly as I could wish ; 
 but I am sure that they will all bear 
 witness to my pains and assiduity in the 
 discharge of my duties." 
 
 "I have no doubt I shall be very hap- 
 py here." murmured Mark, as he rose 
 to leave. 
 
 "My position here is very different 
 from what it has been, Mr. Steadman," 
 remarked Miss Finch, also rising. "Du- 
 ring my dear sister's lifetime one of 
 the most amiable and accomplished of 
 human beings we had a large and pros- 
 perous establishment for young ladies 
 at Carl ton Yilla, Clifton. Mr. Watson 
 took the house off my hands ; and I am 
 here. But ' such is life,' as some one, I 
 forget who, has justly remarked." 
 
 Miss Finch then rang the bell, and 
 desired the servant to show Mr. Stead- 
 man down stairs. "I always sup in
 
 >
 
 LEAVING HOME. 61 
 
 my own apartment," she observed, as 
 Mark again attempted a bow, which he 
 feared would lay him also under the 
 charge of " not being so gentlemanly as 
 Miss Finch could have wished.'-' 
 
 As Mark followed the servant down 
 stairs, sfre opened the door of a small 
 parlor behind the shop, and Mark en- 
 tering, perceived two young men sitting 
 near the gas-light which burned over the 
 mantel-shelf, reading. The younger of 
 them, who did not look much older than 
 Mark, rose as the door opened, and ad- 
 vancing towards the new-comer with his 
 hand stretched out in a theatrical atti- 
 tude, exclaimed : 
 
 "Welcome, Mr. Matthew Steady-man, 
 to the fruitful plains and wide domains 
 of Messrs. Watson and Co. Allow me 
 also the pleasure of first introducing to 
 you my friend Mr. Y erdant I mean, Mr. 
 Vincent Green/' and he waved his hand
 
 G2 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 in the direction of his companion, who 
 looked up from his book, smiled quietly, 
 and shook hands with Mark, saying at 
 the same time, 
 
 "Pray let's have 110 more nonsense, 
 Archer." 
 
 "Now," began the other again, "you 
 go on with your novel. I was about to 
 add that, secondly, I should request the 
 privilege of calling the attention of Mr. 
 Steady-man to the humble individual 
 who now addresses you. His name is 
 Archer Charlie Archer, of a very an- 
 cient and well-known family. One of 
 our ancestors, as you are no doubt aware, 
 distinguished himself during the dark 
 ages by shooting at a frog ; and there is 
 every reason to believe that the first 
 letter of the alphabet great A was 
 invented by him, as the initial of the 
 family name. So that you see, in fact, 
 we may be considered as the leaders in
 
 LEAVING HOME. 63 
 
 ks belles kttres, as well as being highly 
 distinguished for our proficiency in ks 
 beaux arts." 
 
 Mark did not in the least know how 
 to reply to this speech. It was a style 
 of talking to which he had been hitherto 
 quite unaccustomed, and he did not un- 
 derstand it. He saw Mr. Green laugh, 
 so he laughed too. and drawing a chair 
 forward, sat down awkwardly on the 
 edge of it, feeling quite abashed and 
 shy. 
 
 Presently Mr. Charles Archer looked 
 at his watch, and observing that it was 
 past nine, announced his intention of 
 presiding at the supper-table for the 
 cloth was already laid without any 
 longer awaiting the return of their "dis- 
 tinguished president. 7 ' 
 
 " You have already been introduced," 
 said he to Mark, as he took his seat at 
 the head of the table, "to the first and
 
 Gi MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 second persons singular, it only remains 
 to make you acquainted with the third 
 person, or the person spoken of, as the 
 grammar-books say. Xow that individ- 
 ual, allow me to inform you, is no less a 
 personage than the famous Alexander 
 the Great, who, after conquering all the 
 world for which he sighed, has at length 
 condescended to take the situation of 
 senior assistant in the woollen-drapery 
 business of Messrs. Watson and Co., 
 and is content to reign supreme over a 
 simple village Green, with one humble 
 Archer as his body-guard, and a Stead y- 
 man as general servant. He is now, 
 probably, engaged in settling some ques- 
 tion of great moment to the universe in 
 general, and which accounts for his ab- 
 sence on the present occasion." 
 
 "If you mean the discussion-class," 
 said Mr. Green, "I do not think it meets 
 to-night. Tuesday is their evening."
 
 LEAVING HOME. Go 
 
 " But," replied Archer, "I have been 
 informed, on the authority of the Great 
 Alexander, the vice-president, that the 
 question one of some importance oc- 
 cupied so much time in discussion that 
 an adjourned meeting was fixed for this 
 evening, in order to settle it. I pro- 
 posed to him to go and speak on either 
 side, or on both sides if he liked ; but 
 he has never invited me again, since my 
 unfortunate speech on spiritualism." 
 
 At that moment the hall-door was 
 opened, and a step heard in the passage. 
 Archer began whistling, "See, the con- 
 quering hero comes," and presently Mr. 
 Alexander Cocks entered the room. 
 
 Archer immediate!}^ vacated his seat 
 at the head of the table, and Mr. Cocks 
 took his place. He then spoke to Mark, 
 and asked him if he had had a pleasant 
 journey; after which he turned to Ar- 
 cher, and said :
 
 66 MAKK STEAD1IAX. 
 
 "We beat them; I knew we should, 
 after Jones and Clark had spoken ; they 
 are both of them uncommonly clever fel- 
 lows. The opposition melted away like 
 snow ; and when it came to the vote, 
 they could only count five hands." 
 
 "What a pity you were not there, 
 Steadman," said Archer, turning to 
 Mark, "to have helped in the learned 
 discussion." 
 
 "I can assure you we should really 
 have been very glad to have had you on 
 the other side," said Mr. Cocks. "It 
 would have been more exciting if they 
 could have put forward a more decided 
 speaker ; but the fact was, they were 
 very weak indeed. Did you ever take 
 a part in these meetings ?" 
 
 "No," replied Mark. 
 
 "Then I hope you will allow me to 
 introduce you next Tuesday," said Mr. 
 Cocks. "We discuss all kinds of sub-
 
 LEAVING HOME. 67 
 
 jects, and are glad to hear every variety 
 of opinion." 
 
 The clock now struck ten, and at the 
 same moment a step was heard descend- 
 ing the staircase, and presently Miss 
 Finch threw 043011 the parlor-door. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said she, looking round 
 and bowing to each, " allow me to wish 
 you all a very good night ;" and then 
 she withdrew again. 
 
 Mark looked up inquiringly after this 
 little ceremony was over, and Archer 
 said : 
 
 "She counts her chickens like this 
 every night. The fact is, Mr. Watson, 
 with a truly paternal anxiety, has made 
 a rule that we are all to be in at ten 
 o'clock ; so, punctually as the hour 
 strikes, Miss Finch descends, and first 
 counts us and then the spoons, to see 
 that all is right,"
 
 68 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 
 
 THE next day after Mark's arrival at 
 Mr. Watson's, he was fully occupied in 
 paying close attention to the directions 
 given him as to his future work. The 
 business was, as we have said, one of 
 those long -established, old-fashioned 
 shops, in which a less variety of goods 
 is sold than is common at present in most 
 linen-drapers', yet Mark found his new 
 occupations sufficiently fatiguing and 
 confusing during the first day ; so that 
 it was with a feeling of unusual relief 
 that he recollected that the morrow was 
 the day of rest. 
 
 A Sunday morning in the street of a 
 large town cannot be remarkable for that 
 calm beauty and serenity which is so
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 69 
 
 often observable at such seasons in the 
 country ; but although Mark could no 
 longer look out towards the blue hills 
 across the bay, or wander across the 
 green lanes, or on the seashore, as he 
 had often clone on an early Sunday morn- 
 ing in summer at home, yet he could not 
 help thinking that even the sky in the 
 spaces between the roofs of the houses 
 opposite had a peculiar look of fresh- 
 ness and peace which it had not worn on 
 the previous da} r , and which seemed to 
 declare that the week's toil was over, and 
 the dust and soil of it cleansed away. 
 
 Mark found no one in the parlor when 
 he went down, so he fetched a book, and 
 placing himself by the open window be- 
 gan to read. As the clock struck nine, 
 Miss Finch, dressed in a brilliant blue 
 silk and new lace cap, sailed into the 
 room, and inspired perhaps by the con- 
 sciousness of her fine dress, her bow to
 
 70 MARK STEADMAX. 
 
 Mark was even more dignified and im- 
 posing than usual. 
 
 " I expect we shall have a tete-a-tete 
 breakfast, Mr. Steadman," she remarked, 
 as with a sweep of her dress she took 
 her seat at the table. 
 
 Mark was not quite sure what kind of 
 a breakfast that might be, so he only 
 said, "Do 3^011 think so?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Miss Finch ; "'False- 
 ly luxurious will not man awake,' as the 
 poet says. I always keep my place till 
 ten on Sunday mornings never later 
 and after that they must shift for them- 
 selves. I am glad to see that you prac- 
 tise early rising, Mr. Steadman." 
 
 " We are always earlier than usual on 
 Sabbath mornings at home," said Murk, 
 " there is so much to be done to get all 
 ready in time for the service, arid then 
 almost the whole family go to the Sun- 
 da v-school."
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 71 
 
 "Indeed!" answered Miss Finch. 
 "Oh, I suppose your friends are pious 
 people, Mr. Steadman." 
 
 Mark did not exactly know what to 
 reply to this ; but he said at last that he 
 was sure his mdther was a very good 
 woman, and she had always tried to 
 bring up her children in the same way. 
 
 "And you call yourself one of this 
 kind of people, I conclude, Mr. Stead- 
 man ?" asked Miss Finch. 
 
 Mark felt that this was a very disa- 
 greeable question, for he had always the 
 strongest repugnance to speaking of his 
 own feelings or opinions, so that it was 
 with great difficulty that he brought out 
 the words, 
 
 "I do not like to call myself, or to be 
 called by any names of this kind, be- 
 cause I am afraid I may never be able 
 to keep up the high character which 
 they demand ; but if you mean to ask,
 
 72 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 Miss Finch, whether I am content to 
 live only for this world, and to neglect 
 the commandments of God, and espe- 
 cially the blessings he has offered us in 
 Jesus Christ, I must reply that I am not, 
 and hope I never shallbe." 
 
 "Ah, yes," replied Miss Finch, "I 
 understand. It is all the same thing. 
 During the course of my life I have occa- 
 sionally met with some very worthy peo- 
 ple of your way of thinking, not so gen- 
 teel, perhaps, but still much respected." 
 
 And here Miss Finch changed the 
 subject, and began to ask Mark about 
 Wales, and the people, and scenery, 
 etc., until ten o'clock struck, when she 
 rose, and wishing him good morning, 
 left the room, remarking that she sup- 
 posed he would spend the day out some- 
 where. 
 
 She had scarcely closed the door be- 
 fore Charlie Archer entered.
 
 THE FIEST SUNDAST. 73 
 
 "Good morning!" exclaimed he; "and 
 1 what does little Birdie say ?' Have you 
 actually been spending a whole hour here 
 in her charming society alone ? Well, 
 it 's the early bird, they say, that catches 
 the worm, and it serves the worm right 
 for being up so early; so that will be a 
 caution for you another time. And now, 
 what would you like to do with yourself 
 to-day ? Shall we go up to Clifton, and 
 on the down ? I '11 show you about." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Mark, "I am 
 much obliged ; but I would rather not 
 spend Sunday as a day of amusement." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Archer, "that's 
 your line, is it ? I rather suspected as 
 much last night. But, my dear fellow, 
 let me give you one piece of advice, and 
 that is, don't attempt to be different from 
 other people. It's the worst thing pos- 
 sible, I can assure you, if you ever want 
 to get on in the world. And it's no use
 
 74 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 either : because, though you may oegin 
 like this, yet sooner or later you'll have 
 to give in ; and then it really isn't worth 
 while having made a fuss about it at 
 first. I know quite well how you feel 
 now, but those feelings will wear off 
 after you have been here a little while, 
 so it's just as well to begin as 3 r ou mean 
 to go on." 
 
 "That's just, what I wish to do," 
 replied Mark. 
 
 "Ah, that's all very well," said Ar- 
 cher; "many a fellow thinks that when 
 first he leaves home ; but after a time 
 he finds out that it won't do. And after 
 all, as to your going out to-day, why 
 what harm can there be in that? We 
 have no holiday but on Sunday ; and the 
 Sabbath was made for man, you know, 
 and not man for the Sabbath." 
 
 "I know that," replied Mark; "I 
 don't believe that in keeping the Sab-
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 75 
 
 bath holy we are conferring any kind of 
 obligation, as it were, on God, who has 
 given us the Sabbath ; but I look on it 
 that in keeping the Sabbath as a day of 
 rest from amusement as well as from 
 work, we are not only obeying the com- 
 mand of God, but are doing that which 
 is the best possible thing for ourselves." 
 
 "Well, each one to his taste," said 
 Archer, turning to the breakfast-table ; 
 "for my part, I've had enough of dull 
 Sundays at school." 
 
 " I do not think a Sabbath well spent 
 because it is dull," answered Mark ; "but 
 what I mean is, that we ought to endeav- 
 or, once a week at least, to forget the 
 things of this world, and try to turn our 
 thoughts to those more serious things 
 which, whether we will or no, we can't 
 help having to do with ; and it seems to 
 me, that whatever helps us in this is a 
 right way of spending the Sabbath, and
 
 76 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 whatever interferes with this must be 
 bad." 
 
 Mark felt almost surprised at himself 
 in having said as much as this, and Mr. 
 Cocks having entered the room just as he 
 had finished, th'e conversation dropped : 
 and soon after Mark was on his way to 
 the place of worship where his teacher, 
 Mr. Griffiths, had recommended him to 
 attend. 
 
 Owing to a mistake which he made in 
 the time, the service had already com- 
 menced when Mark entered, and the 
 congregation being large, Mark had to 
 stand for a few minutes in the aisle be- 
 fore a seat could be found for him. Just 
 at this moment, however, a gentleman 
 happened to turn his head, and caught 
 sight of Mark, who, being unaccustomed 
 to strange places, felt quite shy and un- 
 comfortable. In a moment the gentle- 
 man, opening his pew-door, beckoned to
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 77 
 
 him, and kindly invited him to enter. 
 Mark found in the pew a lady, and two 
 little girls about six or seven years of 
 age, who made room for him. As soon 
 as the service was ended, the gentleman 
 on leaving the sanctuary turned to Mark, 
 and asked him if he were not a stran- 
 ger, and whether he had been long in 
 Bristol. 
 
 Mark, in reply, told him that he had 
 only left home for the first time two days 
 before ; and mentioning the name of his 
 native town in Wales, added that it was 
 by the recommendation of Mr. Griffiths, 
 whose Bible-class he had been accus- 
 tomed to attend, that he had been in- 
 duced to choose this place of worship 
 that morning. The gentleman then told 
 him that he had a large Bible-class of 
 young men connected with his congre- 
 gation, which was accustomed to meet in 
 a room adjoining every Sabbath after-
 
 78 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 noon, arid if lie felt disposed, it would 
 give him much pleasure to see him there. 
 Mark was pleased to hear this ; it seemed 
 to him more like home than any thing- 
 he had met with since his arrival in Bris- 
 tol ; and he felt disposed to regard this 
 stranger with- that sudden impulse of 
 friendly feeling which only those can 
 understand who have found themselves 
 previously surrounded by persons whose 
 opinions and sentiments are opposite and 
 uncongenial. 
 
 Mark came away much happier than 
 he went, It appeared as though his 
 merciful Father in heaven had already 
 manifested some of that tender care for 
 him with which he continually watches 
 over those who love and honor him. Xor 
 can we doubt but that in regarding this 
 little incident as directed by his hand, 
 Mark was perfectly right; for though we 
 ought ever to guard against that spirit-
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 79 
 
 ual pride which makes us fancy some- 
 times that the whole machinery of Prov- 
 idence is employed on our especial be- 
 half, and to accomplish some trivial object 
 on which we may have set our hearts, yet 
 we should never forget the promise of 
 our Saviour in leaving this world : "Lo, 
 I am with you alway ;" nor need we 
 hesitate to look for the manifestation of 
 that presence in the direction and ar- 
 rangement of all the events of our lives, 
 and more especially in those things which 
 tend in any way to help us on in our 
 Christian course, or which enable us the 
 more perfectly to resist temptation, or 
 to keep clear of ungodly influences. 
 There is no one, who has long been the 
 follower of Jesus Christ, but who has 
 proved many a time in his experience, 
 that evil has been shut off from him and 
 good influences thrown around him, 
 through circumstances which were whol-
 
 80 MAKE STEADJIAtf. 
 
 ly unexpected and beyond his own con- 
 trol. 
 
 Mark, while returning home, had a 
 dread of again being questioned by his 
 companions; and though to some this 
 may appear as cowardly, yet the repug- 
 nance really arose from a kind of feel- 
 ing which is far from cowardly. It is 
 one thing to be ashamed of our senti- 
 ments and opinions, and another to ex- 
 perience a great reluctance to express 
 them before others ; and though it is 
 true that if this sensitiveness be too 
 much indulged, it may lead to false and 
 cowardly conduct, yet it is equally noto- 
 rious that boasters are often the first to 
 fly, and that those who appear to have 
 the least timidity in expressing their 
 opinions or in displaying their more 
 sacred feelings, are not the most firm 
 always when pressed hard by the foe. 
 
 The stand which Mark knew that he
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 81 
 
 must take against those around him, was 
 to be a resistance against the old foes of 
 God and man, "the world, the flesh, and 
 the devil;" and he felt that in making 
 this he needed great grace and strength 
 from above, for it was only by this grace 
 that he differed in any way from the rest. 
 He had the same nature as they, open 
 to the same impressions, and liable to 
 fall into the same temptations ; and it 
 was only as God should help him by his 
 Holy Spirit that he could in any way 
 overcome these. 
 
 He did not, therefore, look upon his 
 companions as his foes, and imagine that 
 the battle was to be fought out between 
 him and them as individuals a battle 
 in which he was to play the part of a 
 "blessed martyr," and they in the end 
 to be signally defeated, and either pun- 
 ished for their treatment of him, or 
 brought over to his side ; but he felt 
 
 Mark Steartmsn.
 
 82 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 that the enemy to be watched and con- 
 quered was no one else but himself that 
 is, his nature which being placed for 
 the time among those who yielded to 
 their native impulses, and had no desire 
 to make the will of God their object in 
 life,' he would be strongly pressed to 
 yield also, and to give up the toilsome 
 narrow way for the easier broad road. 
 Mark believed and hoped that he had 
 begun to build on the true foundation, 
 Jesus Christ : but he often feared lest he 
 might on this lay nothing but wood, hay, 
 stubble, instead of the gold and silver 
 of a life consecrated to God. 
 
 On his return to Mr. Watson's house 
 he found no one in the parlor but Mr. 
 Green, who, yawning and stretching his 
 arms, threw down the novel he had been 
 reading the night before, and wondered 
 "how ever anybody in the world could 
 like to write such trash."
 
 THE FIEST SUNDAY. 83 
 
 Mark felt much disposed to reply, that 
 he supposed people liked to write it be- 
 cause other people liked to read it. He 
 said nothing, however, and the dinner 
 being ready, they both sat down to the 
 table. Neither Mr. Cocks nor Charlie 
 Archer made their appearance ; and Mr. 
 Green, after abusing both for going out 
 before he came down and leaving him 
 alone for the day, finished his meal in 
 silence. Directly after dinner Mark set 
 out for the Bible-class, and on entering 
 the room, he found ten or twelve young 
 men already assembled ; and soon after 
 his friend of the morning appeared, 
 whose name he found, on inquiring of 
 some one next to him, was Mr. Locke, 
 "the manager of the bank in High- 
 street, 77 added his informant. 
 
 The class was going through a series 
 of lessons on the young men of the Bible, 
 and the subject for this afternoon was
 
 84 JIAHK STEADM AN. 
 
 the character and life of Daniel at the 
 Babylonian court. Many of the remarks 
 made by Mr. Locke were felt \)j Mark 
 to be peculiarly appropriate to his own 
 circumstances and dangers ; and so in- 
 terested was he that he could scarcely 
 believe that more than an hour had pass- 
 ed away when the lesson was concluded. 
 Before leaving the room Mr. Locke had 
 a few words to say to each of his class, 
 for he seemed well acquainted with them 
 all. As Mark wished him good after- 
 noon, Mr. Locke remarked that their 
 road lay in the same direction, and that 
 he would walk with Mark as far as Mr. 
 Watson's. On their way he asked him 
 about his home, and then it came out 
 that Mr. Locke and his family had been 
 lodging in S during the last sum- 
 mer, that he had paid three or four vis- 
 its even to the shop of Mrs. Steadman, 
 and had several times entered into con-
 
 THE FIEST SUNDAY. 85 
 
 versation with Uncle Jack upon the 
 pier. This made Mark feel more confi- 
 dential than ever, and he told Mr. Locke 
 more of his hopes and fears respecting 
 his new life at his uncle's than he would 
 have thought it possible he could have 
 ever confided to a stranger of but a 
 day's acquaintance ; but there was that 
 kind of frankness and sympathy about 
 Mr. Locke that always won the trust 
 and affection of the young. 
 
 As they reached Mr. Watson's shop, 
 and Mark was about to bid his new 
 friend good-afternoon, Mr. Locke said : 
 
 "But why shouldn't yon come on a 
 few steps farther, and drink tea with 
 me this afternoon ? You have promised 
 to come and see me, and you may as 
 well do it at once." 
 
 Mark willingly consented, and they 
 soon found themselves at Mr. Locke's 
 door. He took Mark up stairs into a
 
 86 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 pleasant drawing-room over the bank, 
 and there introduced him to a lady, 
 whose kind and lively manner at once 
 made Mark feel at home. On the floor 
 were the two little girls whom Mark had 
 seen in the pew in the morning, with a 
 baby-brother of about six months old. 
 After a few remarks, Mrs. Locke called 
 the little girls to her, and bade them 
 sing to their papa the hymn she had 
 taught them that afternoon; and Mark 
 thought he had never heard any thing 
 prettier than when their sweet little 
 voices sang so perfectly and clearly the 
 hymn he used to know so well : 
 
 "Around the throne of God in heaven 
 
 Thousands of children stand, 
 Children -whose sins are all forgiven, 
 A holy, happy band, 
 Singing, 'Glory, glory, 
 Glory be to God most high.' 
 
 When they had finished, Mrs. Locke 
 rang the bell, and desiring the servant
 
 TEE FIRST SUNDAY. 87 
 
 to take the baby, told the little girls 
 they might have tea down stairs that 
 evening with Mary and baby; and then 
 she invited Mark to come to the table, 
 and began to pour out the tea. 
 
 A pleasant conversation followed, 
 which though in harmony with the sanc- 
 tity of the clay, in no way partook of 
 that gloom or affectation which many 
 persons fancy must be inseparable from 
 the consideration of topics beyond the 
 range of ordinary life. Among other 
 things the subject of the discussion-class 
 came up, suggested by a remark made 
 by Mr. Locke, on the tendency in the 
 present day to prefer novelty to truth j 
 and Mark asked . Mr. Locke's opinion 
 about it, adding, at the same time, that 
 he had half promised Mr. Cocks to go 
 with him next Tuesday evening. 
 
 "I think sometimes," replied Mr. 
 Locke, "that a good discussion on a sub-
 
 88 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 ject is a capital thing ; it seems to clear 
 away a great deal of that vagueness in 
 which we are often content to leave our 
 ideas, and confirms us in the reason- 
 ableness of an opinion, which we might 
 have previously formed rather from some 
 happy combination of circumstances than 
 as the result of much thought. When, 
 therefore, two or three friends happen 
 to fall into a discussion, upon some ques- 
 tion, and place it in different lights, much 
 benefit may result, so long as truth is 
 not. sacrificed for the sake of maintain- 
 ing an opinion ; but I must say, I greatly 
 fear that in these classes, where people 
 assemble together regularly for the pur- 
 pose of debate, truth is not always the 
 object kept in view. When, therefore, 
 the subjects debated are taken from 
 among those solemn realities which must 
 be held by faith rather than by reason, 
 then I cannot but think that immense
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 89 
 
 harm must be done by such discus- 
 sions." 
 
 "But there would always be some to 
 take the right side," urged Mark. 
 
 "That may be," replied Mr. Locke; 
 "but why is what you call l ihe right side 1 
 chosen ? It seems to me that in deci- 
 ding which side to take, it is scarcely 
 possible that any one should be actu- 
 ated simply by that honest, straightfor- 
 ward desire to see all, and no more than 
 the truth, which ought to animate us in 
 adopting our convictions. Every sub- 
 ject is regarded as having two sides, one 
 of which must be hastily chosen ; and 
 this rapid choice is frequently directed 
 merely by some trivial circumstance or 
 passing whim of the fancy. The mind 
 tl\us becomes accustomed to the danger- 
 ous and degrading habit of regarding 
 truth and error as light matters, either 
 of which may be caught at, just as the
 
 90 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 wind happens to blow cither in our 
 direction. Under the influence of this 
 spirit, humble, earnest thought and sound 
 judgment soon disappear, and give place 
 to a supercilious levity, which scoffs at 
 and rejects venerable truths resting on 
 a solid foundation of reason and common 
 sense ; and yet at the same time will 
 devour with the greatest credulity ab- 
 surdities which ignorance alone pronoun- 
 ces novelties, and which are utterly de- 
 void of any reasonable basis." 
 
 "But do you think that all serious 
 subjects must be avoided?" asked Mark. 
 
 "By serious subjects, I do not mean 
 only those we usually call religious," 
 replied Mr. Locke; "I include among 
 them all those questions on which a 
 thoughtful, earnest man would like j;o 
 arrive at a true and faithful conclusion. 
 But, in fact, it is almost impossible to 
 fix on any subject in which truth is not
 
 THE FIE.ST SUNDAY, 91 
 
 involved ; and to discover this aright is 
 no trifling matter in which we may fol- 
 low our own fancies ; but it is a serious 
 work, in which we are bound to use our 
 best care and pains, as in the sight of 
 God, in order to accomplish it as per- 
 fectly as possible. I think we do right 
 to remember always, in every movement 
 of the mind both great and small, that 
 we are responsible to God for them, and 
 that He will as much take account of 
 these passing impressions and opinions, 
 as of our external actions. It is true 
 the hackneyed quotation of the poet 
 says : 
 
 ' ' ' For forms of faith let senseless bigots fight : 
 He can't be \vrong whose life is in the right ;' 
 
 but the sentiment is not a just one unless 
 we understand by 'life' here all the ac- 
 tivity of which our natures are capable, 
 whether mental, moral, sentimental, or 
 physical."
 
 92 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 "I think I see the danger you mean, 
 as probably arising from the habit of 
 taking a part in these discussions," said 
 Mark. "I had rather thought of them 
 myself as an opportunity of gaining 
 information on many subjects of which, 
 I must confess, I am very ignorant. I 
 should be only a listener." 
 
 " I did not intend in any way to say 
 to you, leave these things alone because 
 it is difficult to come to a right under- 
 standing of them and there are dangers 
 on the road," said Mr. Locke. "I think 
 every one ought to be engaged in the 
 conscientious cultivation of his own mind, 
 in a diligent search after truth, and anx- 
 ious for the formation of sound and cor- 
 rect opinions ; but I, for one, should not 
 choose a class like this as the means best 
 adapted to these ends." 
 
 ' What then would you recommend ?" 
 asked Mark. " I should be glad of any
 
 THE FIRST SUNDAY. 93 
 
 means for improving myself, for I find 
 already, now I come to be with others, 
 how behindhand I am. Even in these 
 few days I have heard many things spo- 
 ken of about which I know nothing. 
 My mother gave me the best education 
 she could afford, but I think it must have 
 been very inferior to that of the other 
 young men at Mr. Watson's." 
 
 "That may be," replied Mr. Locke; 
 "but you have plenty of time before 
 you, and by steady work during the 
 next few years may more than make up 
 for past deficiencies. You shall come 
 here some evening soon, and we will 
 have a little examination, and find out 
 your weak points, and talk over the 
 best plan for remedying them." 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Mark. 
 
 " In the meantime I think Mr. Stead- 
 man would much enjoy those nice lec- 
 tures which Mr. Copeman has been giv-
 
 94 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 ing to your class on Wednesday even- 
 ings," said Mrs. Locke. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Locke; "I was 
 going to tell him of them. A friend of 
 mine," continued he, turning to Mark, 
 "has undertaken to give the class you 
 joined this afternoon a course of lectures, 
 or lessons on English literature. He 
 has already introduced us to some great 
 men of the past, and to their writings, 
 in a most interesting manner j and I am 
 sure you would find an evening pass 
 very pleasantly in this way." 
 
 In the evening Mark accompanied 
 his kind friends to the same place of 
 worship where he had attended in the 
 morning, after which he returned home, 
 satisfied that the Sabbath had not been 
 to him at any rate a "dull day," nor 
 unprofitable for the great end for which 
 the day was appointed.
 
 TKIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 95 
 
 TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 MARK had now settled into his new 
 life at Mr. Watson's, and one day suc- 
 ceeded another without any very great 
 distinction. It is not for extraordinary 
 events that we have to prepare our- 
 selves, for life consists for the most part 
 of little pleasures, small trials, and slight 
 temptations, and it is these that we have 
 to watch against, and to use as helps in 
 our spiritual progress : now and then 
 may come some rare storm, or some few 
 weeks of wonderful summer sunshine, 
 demanding unusual strength ; but these 
 seasons are not the ordinary weather of 
 life. Mark did not find, however, that 
 he could therefore cease to watch and 
 pray, and let his life take its own course :
 
 S)G MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 even in fair weather, a ship cannot be 
 left to its own guidance, but still re- 
 quires the attention and care of the cap- 
 tain and steersman. 
 
 During the day, he endeavored, as far 
 as possible, to attend to all the duties 
 of his situation, and to promote in every 
 way the interests of his employer; for 
 he knew that it was just this work to 
 which God now called him, and that in 
 the conscientious discharge of it he was 
 doing the will of his Father in heaven, 
 although it consisted merely in carrying 
 out parcels, in measuring out yards of 
 stuff, or in attempting to satisfy the 
 tastes of fastidious customers. In the 
 evening, and at such time as he had at 
 his own disposal, he set to work dili- 
 gently to remedy the defects in his edu- 
 cation, by the study of those things in 
 which he found himself deficient ; and 
 he also experienced great pleasure in
 
 TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 97 
 
 attending Mr. Copeman's lectures, in 
 connection with the Bible-class, and in 
 reading many of the books lent him by 
 Mr. Locke. Through these means a new 
 world of fine thoughts and beautiful fan- 
 cies was opened before him. in the en- 
 joyment of which he forgot many a little 
 worry and passing anxiet} r , while at the 
 same time his mind became widened 
 and cultivated by this intercourse with 
 the wise and good of other days. 
 
 No argument is perhaps now needed, 
 in order to convince people that religion 
 has nothing in it which is opposed to 
 intellectual progress, but it by no means 
 follows that all so-called intellectual pur- 
 suits are in harmony with the great ends 
 of religion. Intellectual progress can 
 only be maintained so far as truth is 
 always kept in view ; errors and chime- 
 ras may be pursued by the intellect 
 through their winding, erratic course,
 
 98 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 ending in leaving the mind farther back 
 upon the road of ignorance and dark- 
 ness than when the chase began. Every 
 thing which promotes the real good of 
 the soul, the mind, or the body, ought 
 to be claimed by religion as its servant ; 
 but as all bodily exercise is not neces- 
 sarily productive of health, but may 
 tend only to cause fatigue or even dis- 
 ease, so mental activity, unless used 
 rightly, may have no other effect than 
 to distort the ideas, to deform the mind, 
 and to lead the soul away from the true 
 source of all enlightenment and knowl- 
 edge, down among the dark mountains 
 of error. 
 
 It was no easy thing for Mark, as it 
 never will be for any human being, to 
 make, the will of God not only his rule 
 of life, but the standard by which to try 
 every thought, opinion^ and feeling; and 
 he constantly found himself falling into
 
 TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 90 
 
 the same ideas as were held by those 
 around him, and in danger of adopting 
 their standard instead of the one ap- 
 pointed by God in his word. For in- 
 stance, it was very difficult to continue 
 to regard with the same reverence and 
 respect, as he once did, those truths 
 which he now heard lightly discussed, 
 and characterized as old-fashioned, obso- 
 lete views, rejected by all the "advanced 
 thinkers " of the day ; while the insinu- 
 ation would be added, that it was only 
 because he had lived all his life in one 
 circle, that he still held them. But in- 
 nate? d of casting them off as old gar- 
 ments, no longer in the mode, he would 
 ask himself, Is it because I have heard 
 these things from my youth that I be- 
 lieve them to be true ? Have they any 
 real foundation for themselves? And 
 in answering these queries, he found the 
 great advantage of such a friend as Mr.
 
 100 MARK 6TEADJIAN. 
 
 Locke, a man not like himself feeling 
 after things, but who had already trav- 
 elled the same road and knew ever} 7 
 step of the way. 
 
 Another temptation which Mark found 
 press upon him very strongly at this 
 time, arose from his constantly having 
 the idea brought before him, both by 
 words and practice, that in order to get 
 on in the world, it was absolutely need- 
 ful, not only to think as other people 
 thought, but to do as they did, to go 
 where they went, to see what they saw, 
 and hear what they heard ; to have, in 
 fact, no standard of manners or morals 
 of his own. 
 
 He found himself tempted continually 
 to ask, Why should I be different from 
 those around me? Why, at any rate, 
 may I not do this and that, so as, as far 
 as possible, to be taken for a young man 
 who knows the world? For Mark could
 
 1RIALS AND ENCOUKAGEMENTS. 101 
 
 not glory, as some people say they do, 
 in being peculiar ; on the contrary, he 
 found it very hard work indeed, so much 
 so, that he often felt as if he could hold 
 out no longer, but must yield to the in- 
 fluences around him, for he discovered 
 much in his own nature which sympa- 
 thized with these. 
 
 Persons sometimes think that in set- 
 ting out on the Christian course they 
 have become so different in their very 
 natures from those who are living with- 
 out God in the world, that though they 
 may expect persecution from them, yet 
 they are in no danger of being attracted 
 by those things which charm others ; 
 thus a feeling of conscious superiority 
 and of self-security is induced, which, 
 besides being in itself, a sin, is no kind 
 of safeguard against the dangers lying 
 before them. Indeed, we not unfre- 
 quently see that those who set out thank-
 
 102 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 ing God that they are not as other men, 
 are permitted by him to fall into many 
 of the snares which they despised, in 
 order to teach them that they are like 
 others, and that the only difference is 
 in the mercy and grace of God granted 
 to them. 
 
 It was about this time that Mark re- 
 ceived two letters from home. They 
 came just as he was feeling much dis- 
 couraged, because that, notwithstanding 
 all his efforts, he yet experienced much 
 of the effects of the atmosphere in which 
 he was living. They may not have all 
 the inspiriting influence upon others in 
 similar circumstances which they had 
 upon him, because, apart from the words 
 of counsel in themselves, they came to 
 him surrounded with all the associations 
 of affection and home ; but still they may 
 perhaps be considered worth preserving. 
 
 The first which he opened was written
 
 TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 103 
 
 in the large round hand, the lines of which 
 were jet so unsteady, which he recog- 
 nized as that of his uncle Jack. It began : 
 
 "DEAR BOY: I have not much of a 
 fist to handle a pen, as you know, for 
 the worst of it is, they will make them 
 so small, that there's nothing to lay hold 
 on. I never was one to refuse to lend 
 a hand to haul a line or throw a har- 
 poon, but then you see, when you've 
 got hold of them you know where you 
 are, and what they is ; but I do assure 
 you, if it wasn't for my eyes, I could n't 
 tell you now whether I had a pen at ween 
 my fingers or no. If you should meet 
 with any pens a decent size over in 
 Bristol, I '11 trouble you to buy me one ; 
 so I can't help it if the letters is not so 
 ship-shape as they ought to be. 
 
 " I have seen your mother last week, 
 and she read me part of your letter. 
 My dear boy, don't be down-hearted;
 
 MABK STEADMAN. 
 
 if you supposes you 're the first man 
 that discovered quicksands and met with 
 foul weather, why all I can tell you is, 
 that you 're very much mistook. So 
 long as you 've got the Pilot with you, 
 you '11 weather many a storm yet ; and 
 we sha n't expect to hear you 've made 
 a wreck of it, for you 're not the first 
 by a great deal, that He have brought 
 through worse dangers safe into port; 
 letting alone that he knows every wave, 
 and every wind, and every rock, as well 
 as any thing, for have n't he made the 
 whole voyage first of all himself, and 
 alone? As the hymn says it goes best 
 to 'Portugal' 
 
 " 'By prayer let me wrestle, 
 
 And he will perform ; 
 With Christ in the vessel, 
 
 I smile at the storm. 
 Each sweet Eben-Ezer 
 
 I have in review, 
 Confirms his good pleasure 
 
 To help me quite through.'
 
 TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 105 
 
 Therefore, my dear boy, cheer up, mind 
 your orders, keep a good look ahead, 
 let every thing be in sailing trim, and 
 never mind a few squalls. The Lord 
 bless and keep thee, and make his face 
 to shine upon thee. 
 
 "Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 "JOHN MASTEKS." 
 
 The other letter, Mark saw with pleas- 
 ure, was from Mr. Griffiths : 
 
 ' ' MY DEAR MARK : I was much pleased 
 to receive your letter, and have been 
 waiting until I could command a little 
 leisure, that 1 might reply to it more at 
 length. I am glad to hear that you like 
 your situation so well, and find your 
 companions so pleasant, but am not sur- 
 prised at the difficulties to which you 
 allude. 
 
 "I believe there is but one way of 
 overcoming the influences of worldly 
 associations, and that means, happily,
 
 -106 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 lies in every one's hands ; it is, to use 
 more than ordinary diligence in endeav- 
 oring to keep the mind filled with holy 
 thoughts and feelings, and firmly fixed 
 on God's truth. Many persons fancy 
 that to lead a spiritual life, some extra- 
 ordinary revelations are required, and 
 some very peculiar line of conduct must be 
 adopted ; but the common way in which 
 God blesses our souls, and by which we 
 may daily grow in grace and in the 
 knowledge of Jesus Christ, is by the 
 frequent study of his word and constant 
 prayer for the grace of the Holy Spirit. 
 I have no better plan to suggest to you 
 than this old-fashioned one ; and I must 
 remind you that faithfulness and dili- 
 gence in the use of these means are far 
 higher qualities in themselves, and more 
 blessed of God, than ingenuity in dis- 
 covering new methods of obtaining the 
 blessings we need. The greater you
 
 iivlALS AND ENCOUBAGEMENTS. 107 
 
 find your tendency to be influenced by 
 earthly things, give the more time to 
 prayer, meditation, and the study of the 
 Scriptures. These exercises, I believe, 
 lie at the root of all strength and holi- 
 ness of character ; they are the true food 
 of the soul, the sap by which we main- 
 tain our union to the Vine, in which our 
 life consists. By these we may hold 
 fast to Christ our Saviour and our hope ; 
 and in thus clinging to him, we shall not 
 fall, though our enemies may be many 
 and subtle. Take courage then, my 
 dear Mark ; as long as you hold fast to 
 God, be assured he will never forsake 
 you, or suffer you to be tempted beyond 
 what you can bear, and beyond what is 
 good and needful for you. I am very 
 glad that you have been able at once to 
 let it be seen whose you are, and whom 
 you desire to serve. Very much de- 
 pends on this ; for if you allow yourself
 
 108 MAKK STEADMAN. 
 
 at first to be considered as belonging to 
 the world, it is exceedingly difficult to 
 declare yourself afterwards, and every 
 word and act that does this will be a 
 battle ; whereas by taking your ground 
 at once, you will be expected after- 
 wards to live according to the part you 
 have chosen. 
 
 " With regard to your question about 
 what are called 'worldly amusements,' 
 I really have very little to say. You 
 do not of course refer to those of which 
 the pleasure consists in sin ; there can 
 be but one course in regard* to these ; 
 and as to those which cannot with jus- 
 tice be called evil in themselves, you can 
 judge by the effect on your own mind. 
 
 "Many things, though ihey may not 
 be absolutely unlawful, are yet not ex- 
 pedient. And other engagements are 
 undoubtedly of the world, and can only 
 suit a worldly spirit ; their associations
 
 TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 109 
 
 and tendencies are unfriendly to reli- 
 gious habits and feelings. Cultivate 
 cheerful piety ; avoid all 'that is frivo- 
 lous and unseemly. 
 
 "You will be glad to hear that your 
 vacant place in the class is alreadj^ filled 
 by a lad whom your Uncle Jaclf picked 
 up on the pier one Sunday afternoon, 
 and persuaded to attend. He had only 
 come to the town the evening before, 
 and has been under good influences at 
 home, so that we are very much pleased 
 to get hold of him. I saw your uncle 
 last Sabbath. He was on his way to the 
 Bethel ship, and looked very well and 
 happy, having three young sailors in 
 tow. 
 
 "I hope, my dear Mark, you will write 
 me a long letter again soon ; pray re- 
 member the pleasure it is to me to hear 
 from you, and how much interested I am 
 in all your difficulties and temptations;
 
 110 MARK STEAD MAN. 
 
 write to me freely, and ask me as many 
 questions as you please. I often think 
 of you, and pray that God may train 
 you by these trials into a good soldier 
 of Jesus Christ; for we are not called 
 to put on the Christian armor merely 
 that w^may live a life of ease, but that 
 we may fight the battles of the Lord. 
 "Believe me always 
 
 "Your verv sincere Friend, 
 
 * 
 
 "HENRY GRIFFITHS."
 
 TEIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. Ill 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 
 
 THE six months appointed by Mr. 
 Watson as Mark's probation were now 
 drawing towards a close. Three weeks 
 only of the term remained, and Mark 
 was becoming very anxious to know his 
 uncle's opinion of his services, and 
 whether he considered them worth re- 
 taining at a fixed salary. He had en- 
 deavored, as far as he could, to perform 
 every duty which fell to him as per- 
 fectly as possible, and to seek his uu- 
 cle's interest in disposing of the goods 
 in the shop to the best of his power, "as 
 ever in the great Taskmaster's eye ;" 
 and hitherto he had found that the ser- 
 vice of God, for him, consisted in thus 
 attending as faithfully and diligently as
 
 112 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 he could to the duties of his situation as 
 junior assistant in his uncle's shop. So 
 well had he done this, that Mr. Watson 
 had frequently commended his prudence 
 and sagacity in many little matters con- 
 nected with the business ; and Mark^ 
 while daily seeking help from God in 
 his work, had come to the conclusion 
 that godliness is as profitable for the 
 life that now is meaning by that, the 
 getting on in the world as it is for the 
 life to come. 
 
 A circumstance, nevertheless, now oc- 
 curred, for which he was wholly unpre- 
 pared, and which led him to see that, 
 however much prudence and industry, 
 with God's blessing, may tend to earthly 
 prosperity, yet that in themselves they 
 must never be the end of the Christian, 
 whose aim is to seek first the kingdom 
 of God and His righteousness, trusting 
 in Him to add all other needful things.
 
 A TRIAL OF PEIXCIPLE. 113 
 
 "Ye cannot serve God and mammon," 
 is as true in these days as when our 
 Saviour first uttered the words ; although 
 it is equally true that we see man}' good 
 men who, while serving God first, have 
 been blessed with the riches and pros- 
 perity of this world. 
 
 It happened one day that in opening 
 a package newly received, Mr. Watson 
 took out a piece of silk, which he desired 
 Mark to measure off into dresses of 
 twelve yards each, and mark as such. 
 Mark measured the silk, and found there 
 were barely thirty-five yards. 
 
 "I must cut one of the dresses only 
 eleven yards, sir," said Mark; "there 
 are scarcely thirty -five yards in the 
 piece." 
 
 "What an abominable shame that 
 is." exclaimed Mr. Watson ; " that 7 s tbe 
 way they all serve us now-a-days. No, 
 3'ou must divide the silk into three ; I 
 
 dmn.
 
 114 MAKE STEii-DMAX. 
 
 can't afford to lose a yard of that silk ; 
 I 've paid ten pounds for that piece, and 
 I must have three dresses out of it." 
 
 " Of course I am not to mark then ui 
 twelve yards," said Mark. 
 
 " And why not?" asked i >on. 
 
 "Because they won't bo much more 
 than eleven yards and a half," answer- 
 ed Mark. 
 
 " I can't help that," rcpii ucle ; 
 
 "it's not my fault. If o. ^ple 
 
 cheat, I can't afford to lose.'' 
 
 Mark hesitated, and put the auk d< 
 
 "Come, no nonsense," continued Mr. 
 Watson ; "I am sure I wish with all my 
 heart the old times would come back 
 again, when men dealt honestly with 
 one another ; but it 's no use now-a-days. 
 You must buy and sell as other people 
 do, or else shut up shop altogether." 
 
 "But why need ! 12 yds.' be marked 
 on these dresses ?" said Mark.
 
 A TEIAL OF PKIi: 115 
 
 " Why," replied Mr. M. ; "u'you 
 
 mark eleven yards and L.u:', of course 
 a customer will expect 'to pay less, be- 
 cause of the short length. You '11* never 
 do business that way, boy ; so do as I ? ve 
 told j'ou at once." 
 
 " I do n't think it can be right," began 
 Mark. 
 
 "Hold 3'our tongue," said his uncle ; 
 " it 's my affair, and not yours. It 's my 
 shop, and my goods, and it is I who say 
 it, and not you. You only do as 3-011 
 arc bid ;" and he hastily left the shop. 
 
 A hearty laugh behind him caused 
 Mark to turn round. 
 
 "Oh for Diogenes and his lantern!" 
 exclaimed Charlie Archer. "Here, la- 
 dies and gentlemen," continued he, 
 pointing towards Mark, "here you be- 
 hold the remains of that extinct species 
 of humanity the honest man. In the 
 days when mastodons and ichthyosauri
 
 116 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 walked about upon the earth, this lost 
 race of mankind is also supposed to have 
 existed. Civilization and commerce 
 have, however, driven them to the ut- 
 most limits of creation, and there is no 
 room for them now in any well-to-do com- 
 munity. Here, in this mistaken indi- 
 vidual, you behold one of the last speci- 
 mens, and I strongly recommend him 
 either to shut himself up in a glass-case 
 and take himself about as a curiosity, or 
 to depart for another sphere, where his 
 special characteristics may be appreci- 
 ated. He is certainly not fit for the dirty 
 business of this work-a-day world ;" and 
 saying this, he took the piece of silk out 
 of Mark's hands, and proceeded to meas- 
 ure off and mark the dresses as Mr. 
 "Watson had directed. 
 
 It happened, unfortunately, as perhaps 
 some may think, that the same afternoon, 
 a lady whom Mark had already served
 
 A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 117 
 
 to several things, happened to catch 
 sight of one of these dresses lying on 
 the counter. She immediately asked to 
 look at it, inquired the price, and then 
 said, "You are quite sure as to the 
 quantity, I suppose ?" 
 
 Mark hesitated: Mr. Watson was 
 standing near but Mark could not tell 
 a direct lie. 
 
 "Will you be so good as to measure 
 it ?" said the lady. 
 
 Mark took up the measure ; but at 
 ^that moment Charlie Archer came for- 
 ward, and taking it out of Mark's hand, 
 said in 'his most polite manner, "I meas- 
 ured these very dresses by Mr. Wat- 
 son's desire this morning, so that I am 
 quite sure as to their length ; but still, if 
 you desire to see it done, ma'am, I shall 
 have no objection to do so over again.'' 
 
 "Certainly not," replied the lady, 
 "your word is quite sufficient; besides,
 
 118 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 I do not kn< v 'y ihat I have made up my 
 mind to ' one ; I rather think I 
 
 will consider ( t a little, and wait till 
 1 le season is ; re advanced." 
 
 Charlie Archer added a few more 
 v, T ords of persuasion, but without effect, 
 for the lad}* left the shop without making 
 any further purchases. 
 
 A few days after this, Mark was 
 alarmed by a message that Mr. Watson 
 desired to see him in Miss Finch's par- 
 lor. He went up stairs, and with fear 
 opened the door ; for though he was not 
 conscious of having done any thing 
 wrong, yet the very idea of a private 
 interview with his uncle made him feel 
 timid and uncomfortable. 
 
 "I wanted to speak to you, Mark," 
 began Mr. Watson, "because the time 
 is so nearly expired for which I engaged 
 you on trial. In many respects, I have 
 been very much pleased with you ; but
 
 A THIAL OF P1UNCIILE. 119 
 
 there- thing which I fear will 
 
 greatly stand i,i your way, and prevent 
 your ever 1 -ning an efficient assistant 
 and good man of uu-iucss. I do riot 
 wish to refer to air . ucular circum- 
 stances, but what i mean is a disposi- 
 tion to questio 1 I about things. 
 To get on in it is necessary 
 to act with ad at once, without 
 waiting to ;> any fanciful notions 
 or scruples of conscience, as perhaps 
 you may terra them ; such hesitation and 
 delay ; tys fatal to success. You 
 mus ilie world as it is, and deal 
 with it in its own way ; 3-011 can neither 
 make it what you would like, nor can 
 you do business in it otherwise than 
 after its own fashion. For my own part, 
 I much regret the present state of things, 
 and I really believe, with, all the talk 
 there is about the spread of religion and 
 doing good, that people only get worse
 
 120 IIAliK STKADMAN. 
 
 arid worse, and are ready to take advan- 
 tage of one another in every possible 
 way. That being the case, one can only 
 look out for oneself; and, as I have said 
 already, much as I deplore the neces- 
 sity, yet one must act according to the 
 way one is treated by others. Do you 
 understand me ?' 7 
 
 "I do not exactly know w r hat you 
 mean me to do, ?J said Mark, who was 
 but little given to analyze motives, but 
 rather judged of an action by the prompt 
 verdict of a conscience cultivated ac- 
 cording to the principles of God's word. 
 
 "Why, I should have thought you 
 might have seen it," replied his uncle, a 
 little impatiently. "What I mean is, 
 that I cannot have you disputing and 
 questioning about what you have to do 
 here. There is nothing I hate so much 
 as a prig, and I never will have one in 
 my establishment. I have told you al-
 
 A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 121 
 
 ready that I have the best and soundest 
 reasons for all I wish you to do rea- 
 sons which, with your ignorance of the 
 world, you may not be able to enter 
 into ; I wish, therefore, to come to an 
 understanding with 3^011 at once, and let 
 you see plainly that I am not going to 
 suffer my way of doing 'business to be 
 called in question by you, and con- 
 demned as not being in accordance with 
 some weak notions you may have in 
 your head, or as in opposition to some 
 trivial precept you may have learned in 
 the Sunday-school, which was only in- 
 tended to be applied to a bo} T 's conduct, 
 and had nothing whatever to do with 
 business affairs." 
 
 "But surely, sir, you allow that each, 
 man ought to consider his own actions, 
 and avoid what is wrong for himself? I 
 did not mean, I assure you, to judge of 
 yours in any way," said Mark.
 
 122 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 "That's a mere Dibble," replied Mr. 
 Watson. "If jonscience, or what- 
 
 ever you call i ill not allow you to 
 do > ..at I tell you you, in your refusal, 
 jud ind condemn me; and that is a 
 species of priggishness that I never will 
 end 
 
 " must think of whether a thing is 
 righ or wrong for myself before I do 
 it," answered Mark. 
 
 "Of course, of course," said his uncle, 
 "you need n't pretend to teach me that ; 
 I am not referring to your private ac- 
 tions, only to what you do as my assist- 
 ant." 
 
 Mark was silent for a moment. He 
 could not quite see why he was to cheat 
 and tell a lie for his uncle, and yet hes- 
 itate to do the same for himself: and he 
 feared that, apart from the sin in either 
 case, the habits might so grow upon him 
 that he should before lono; lose his sense
 
 A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 123 
 
 of integrity in all the relations of life. 
 Before he co'^d speak again, -however, 
 liis uncle continued: 
 
 "I would willingly keep you, Mark, 
 on many accounts. You are a steady 
 lad, not like ror.-iy now-a-days, and I 
 should b'^ glad to help vour mother, for 
 
 o 
 
 she is a good ; and the way she 
 
 has kept you ail since your father's 
 death, without applying to his relations, 
 does her -.'Teat credit. I also take into 
 account that, having been brought up 
 by IK . >ur ideas would naturally be a 
 little romantic: women always like to 
 inculcate all kinds of exalted sentiments 
 that are wholly useless when one gets 
 out in the world. Now, I think if you 
 do not make any perverse endeavor in 
 your own mind to retain these impres- 
 sions, they will all wear away in a little 
 time, and then yon will make a valua- 
 ble assistant. Mr. Green is leaving me
 
 124= MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 soon, and I should raise your position 
 and salary." 
 
 "But," said Mark, "what I am most 
 afraid of is, lest my ideas of right and 
 wrong should become in any way changed, 
 and lest I should be overcome to seek 
 my own interests instead of endeavoring 
 to serve God. If I did stay with you, 
 sir, this is just what I should try the 
 most to watch and guard against." 
 
 "Then," replied his uncle, "I have 
 nothing more to say. I have told you 
 my opinions, and have taken some pains 
 to explain them to you. Perhaps expe- 
 rience may make you see these things 
 in a different light. Hitherto your pecu- 
 liarities have stood little in your way 
 nay, very likely you have heard your- 
 self praised for them ; but when you 
 find how hard it is to get on now-a- 
 days, and how impossible sometimes to 
 get bread to eat even, you will find that
 
 A TRIAL OF PEINCIPLE. 125 
 
 all which I have said is perfectly true, 
 and you will bitterly repent your pres- 
 ent folly." 
 
 Mark left the room, his mind thor- 
 oughly disturbed and confused. He 
 longed for solitude to think out the ideas 
 thronging in upon him, among the most 
 prominent of which was the feeling that 
 God no longer blessed and prospered 
 the righteous, but that it was the wrong- 
 doer whose evil works were crowned 
 with success. Fortunately for him in 
 his present frame of mind, instead of 
 dwelling on these thoughts, he was 
 obliged immediately to throw himself 
 into active occupation, and thus when 
 the evening came and he was left to 
 himself, his excitement had in some 
 measure subsided. Then he began calm- 
 ly to consider whether it really was im- 
 possible to serve both God and mam- 
 mon, and if so, whether there were not
 
 126 MARK : DM AN. 
 
 a certain hardness njustice in the 
 
 fact that in yielclL ,ole alliance 
 
 to God, the make-. all the earth, in 
 whose hands were all its blessings, he 
 should thereby suffer the loss of his sit- 
 uation, and of >peared to him, the 
 only means b\ he might provide 
 for himself and ht p his family. 
 
 Mark did not know that this was the 
 very question which had so perplexed 
 David, and that the same difficulty had 
 also presented itself, at SOL e time or 
 other, to almost every one who has ear- 
 nestly desired to serve God, .ipted 
 him to cry out in the bitteriic,.^ of his 
 depression, "How doth God know? and 
 is there knowledge in the Most High ? 
 Behold, these are the ungodly who pros- 
 per in the world ; the}' increase in riches. 
 Verily I have cleansed my heart in 
 vain, and washed my hands in innocen- 
 cy." But when the psalmist went into
 
 A TRIAL OF PEINCIi-iliJ. 127 
 
 (lie house of God, then he was CL: bled 
 o understand better the purpose oi God 
 in the arrangement of those thL lieh 
 concern our lives upon earth, liu saw 
 then that the ungodly are often set on 
 high slippery places to their own de- 
 struction ; and tha,t the distribution of 
 the treasures of this world does indeed 
 lie in the hand of God alone, but that 
 they are used by him not as mere re- 
 wards for right actions, but as part of 
 a grand system of training, by which 
 the souls of those who trust in Him are 
 continually prepared more and more to 
 live in another world than this; for this 
 " mcctness for heaven " does not consist 
 in any peculiar magical transformation, 
 but in the daily growth within us of all 
 those qualities which are there most 
 highly esteemed, and are needful for 
 entering into the employments and pleas- 
 ures of that higher sphere. Such quali-
 
 128 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 fications for living in that world as love, 
 self-denial, patience, unbounded trust in 
 God, humility, courage, sincerity, are 
 all the fruits of that training which God 
 here provides for us ; and this world is 
 ours not in the sense of possession, but 
 in that it supplies all .the materials which 
 are needed for this cultivation. It was 
 when David saw this that he could cry 
 out, notwithstanding the prosperity of 
 the wicked and the trials of the right- 
 eous, "Nevertheless, I am continually 
 with thec : thou hast h olden, me by my 
 right hand. Thou shalt guide me with 
 thy counsel, and afterward receive me 
 to glory." 
 
 It was not possible for Mark, who 
 knew so little of life, cither in himself 
 or others, and had never experienced 
 the beneficial effects of trial in his own 
 character, to understand at once what 
 was the meaning of the fact which now
 
 A TEIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 129 
 
 surprised and pained him ; but he turned 
 from the perplexing consideration of it 
 to look up to God in that faith which is 
 possible to all. "Is it true," thought 
 he, "that one cannot, as I once thought, 
 meet with the reward of honesty and 
 diligence in earthly prosperity and suc- 
 cess ? But still God is above all ; he is 
 our Father, and it must be for some 
 wise reason that all my best efforts have 
 ended in failure. One can only press 
 on in the same way, for his favor is bet- 
 ter than life, and our Saviour, when he 
 was temptad to make the supply of his 
 wants his first thought, replied: "Man 
 shall not live by bread alone, but by 
 eveiy word that proceedeth out of the 
 mouth of God." 
 
 Mark EtviKimtn.
 
 130 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 As is THE MASTER, so is THE 
 SERVANT. 
 
 IT happened one day, a short time 
 after Mark's conversation with his uncle, 
 that when he entered the sitting room to 
 dinner, he found his companions busy 
 discussing the merits of some entertain- 
 ment, a bill of. which they held in their 
 hands. 
 
 " It is a first-rate affair, I know," said 
 Mr. Cocks, as Mark took his seat at 
 table; "and I should think even Mr. 
 Steadman would have no scruples of 
 conscience at attending such a thing as 
 this." 
 
 " Combining instruction and amuse- 
 ment," said Charlie Archer, "with noth- 
 ing to offend the most fastidious taste j"
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 131 
 
 and lie handed Mark the bill of an- 
 nouncement. 
 
 Mark looked at the bill, and saw that 
 the entertainment was a lecture on the 
 Music of England, illustrated by con- 
 certed pieces of different periods. "I 
 should think it would be very nice," 
 said he ; " and I should like very much 
 to go." 
 
 "It's first-class, I know," asserted 
 Mr. Cocks again, "and every body 
 ought to hear it." 
 
 "Suppose we take a family ticket, 
 and go in style for once," suggested Mr. 
 Green; "you see we can have one to 
 admit four to the reserved seats for ten 
 shillings ; that will be only half-a-crown 
 apiece." 
 
 " I am afraid I cannot go," said Mark 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Why upon earth not?" exclaimed 
 all three of the young men at oncg.
 
 132 :,IA11K STEADMAX. 
 
 "Because I can't," replied Mark; 
 "I'm very sorry, but it is quite impos- 
 sible." 
 
 "Trust your good people for being 
 disagreeable," said Mr. Cocks; "it's 
 just what they delight in." 
 
 "Indeed," replied Mark, "it is not 
 that ; I should like to go very much in- 
 deed, if I could ; I do not mean that I 
 see any harm in it, only I cannot, that 
 is all." 
 
 "He can't because he can't," said 
 Charlie Archer; "and that's a reason 
 that no one can answer; so let him 
 alone." 
 
 Just then a call from the shop sum- 
 moned Mr. Cocks away, and nothing 
 more passed on the subject during the 
 meal. 
 
 In the evening Mark paid a visit to 
 Mr. Locke, and with some difficulty 
 made Ji his mind to consult him about
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 133 
 
 his future. Mr. Locke fully approved 
 all that Mark had said to his uncle, but 
 he suggested to him that probably Mr. 
 AVatson might yet be unwilling to lose 
 him as an assistant, for he must at any 
 rate feel that he could depend on Mark's 
 honesty and integrity as regarded him- 
 self and any thing intrusted to his care ; 
 and this he Blight, in thinking it over, 
 regard as so valuable a qualification that 
 he would consent to dispense with an 
 implicit obedience to those directions 
 which Mark could not conscientiously 
 comply with. Mark himself had little 
 hope of this, and it wanted but a few 
 days now when the six months of his 
 probation with his uncle would be over. 
 When Mark returned home, he found 
 to his surprise Charlie Archer in the 
 parlor, for it was seldom that either of 
 these young men spent an evening in 
 the house. As Mark entered, hej;hrew
 
 134 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 down the book lie had been reading, and 
 exclaimed: "I'm thankful to see a fel- 
 low-creature at last ; for here I 've been 
 for the last hour, poring over one of 
 Green's stupid novels with the most 
 awful headache, and no one to speak a 
 word." 
 
 "I should have thought you would 
 have been glad to have been quiet," said 
 Mark, "if your head is so bad." 
 
 "I dare say you would," replied Ar- 
 cher; "but quiet does not suit me. I 
 am not fond of reflection, unless it is 
 some very agreeable anticipation of the 
 future." 
 
 "It's a good thing sometimes, when 
 one has nothing better to do, to review 
 oneself a little," said Mark. 
 
 "That, I have no doubt, is a highly 
 agreeable occupation," answered Ar- 
 cher, "when one looks in and sees eve- 
 rything arranged in perfect order, so
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 135 
 
 that one can stand and admire the grat- 
 ifying result with a pleasing glow of sat- 
 isfaction ; but unfortunately that is not 
 my case. If I ever venture to glance 
 within, I see such a jumble of matters, 
 good, bad, and indifferent, all thrown 
 together in such hopeless confusion, that 
 I hastily draw back, and rush off to 
 something more entertaining. I dare 
 say now with you it is otherwise ; and 
 I remember once when I used to enjoy 
 thinking what a good little boy I was." 
 
 " I should suppose that was when you 
 knew less of yourself than at present 
 even," said Mark. 
 
 "That's very true; I certainly did 
 know very little of myself in those days," 
 replied Archer ; ' ' but you see other peo- 
 ple thought I was a very excellent boy, 
 and so. I easily persuaded myself that it 
 was true." 
 
 " When was that?" asked Mark.
 
 136 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 "Oh, years ago ; quite in the dark 
 ages!" said Archer. "I was at school 
 then, and the masters and many of the 
 boys were what yon would call decided 
 Christians, and so I fell in with the rest. 
 I found it was easy and pleasant to do 
 so ; and hearing good things often talked 
 about, and good feelings so often de- 
 scribed, I in a certain way adopted them 
 all for my own, and had grand ideas of 
 preaching the gospel to others, and go- 
 ing out as a missionary to distant lands. 
 I fancied I liked self-denial, and I thought 
 I should find all the world just like those 
 who were then around me. My father 
 was a missionary, but he and my mother 
 both died in India, and I was sent home 
 to my uncle. He had a large family of 
 children of his own, and could not afford 
 to spend much upon me ; at least so he 
 always said: but he sent rne to school, 
 and there also I passed most of my holi-
 
 MASTEK AND SEKVANT. 137 
 
 days too, for there was generally some 
 reason why I could not return to his 
 house. Towards the end of the last half 
 year, I wrote him a very fine letter, in 
 which I set forth in a highly exalted 
 st}<le my desire to devote myself to the 
 conversion of the heathen in distant 
 lands. I thought, when I had written 
 it, that it was a beautiful production, 
 quite fit to be inserted in the memoir of 
 myself, which I had no doubt would be 
 written a'fter, of course, my early death. 
 To my surprise, my uncle appeared to 
 regard it in quite a different light. He 
 wrote back a few lines, to say that the 
 whole scheme was absurd ; that there 
 were no means of rny going to college, 
 but that I must bestir myself at once to 
 get my own living, and put all such fan- 
 tastic ideas out of my head." 
 
 " And what did you do ?" asked Mark. 
 
 " It was a great blow to me at first, I
 
 138 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 must confess," continued Archer, "to 
 find that those ideas and feelings I had 
 been used to think so praiseworthy were 
 not held as such by all the world. Still, 
 I knew that good people often were per- 
 
 * 
 
 secuted, and so I made up my mind that 
 I was going to be. 
 
 " Yery soon there came another let- 
 ter from my uncle, telling me that he 
 had found a situation for me in Bristol, 
 in a linen-draper's shop. I really was 
 no hypocrite, Steadman, what'ever you 
 may think. I assure you this was a 
 bitter disappointment to me, though of 
 course it was all nonsense about being a 
 missionary, and I see now that my uncle 
 was quite right." 
 
 "But, Archer," said Mark, "you 
 could have served God as well in a dra- 
 per's shop as in a heathen land." 
 
 "So my master at the school kept tell- 
 ing me," replied Archer; "but, some-
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 139 
 
 how, it seemed altogether a different 
 affair to me. Still, I came here with 
 some ideas of being an example to all 
 my other companions, and of teaching 
 and benefiting them. "When I arrived, 
 however, I found they treated me at 
 once as just like themselves. This rather 
 put me aback ; I had expected to be 
 persecuted ; but finding they discovered 
 nothing to laugh at in me, I was very 
 careful that they should continue to treat 
 me so pleasantly. Very soon I found 
 that it was easier to amuse them than to 
 improve them ; so I gave up the latter 
 idea ' altogether. I am not like you, 
 Steadman ; you let us see the first night 
 you came what you were ; but I must 
 confess I have not your courage." 
 
 "Why, Archer," began Mark, "I 
 should have thought that you didn't 
 care for what any one said of you, you 
 are so ready always with an answer,
 
 140 MABK STEADMAN. 
 
 and can turn the laugh against any one 
 who attacks you directly. Now, for 
 me, I really find it the most difficult 
 thing very often to get the words I 
 know I ought to speak out of my mouth. 
 Oh, you don't know what hard work 
 this has been to me since I have been 
 here ; and I am sure, without God's 
 help, I never could have got on at all." 
 
 Archer was silent for some time, 
 pressing his hands to his forehead. 
 
 After a while he said suddenly : 
 "Mark, why -did you refuse to go to 
 the entertainment this morning? Do 
 you imagine there can be anything 
 wrong in it?" 
 
 "My reason had nothing to do with 
 that," said Mark. " I simply could not 
 bring myself to declare openly that I 
 was so ill-provided with money when I 
 came here, that I have not even half-a- 
 crown to spare now."
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 141 
 
 "Oh, that was it," said Archer. 
 "Well, that is no matter, you can just 
 borrow that of Mr. Watson." 
 
 "But 1 do not like to ask him," an- 
 swered Mark, " especially just now." 
 
 "You need not ask him for such a 
 trifle as that," replied Archer. "Take 
 it, man ; you can pay it back in a day 
 or two, when you have your sal- 
 ary." 
 
 " Take it!" exclaimed Mark. "What, 
 from the shop ? Indeed, Archer, I could 
 not do such a thing.'' 
 
 " Why, what's the matter?" said Ar- 
 cher. "I did not say, Keep it, I only 
 suggested to you to borrow it. It is just 
 what everybody does ; only you are so 
 green and ignorant." 
 
 " But I do not think it would be bor- 
 rowing it, unless Mr.* Watson lent it. 
 "No man has a right to help himself to 
 another's property without his leave,"
 
 142 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 replied Mark. " Oh, I am certain it is 
 not right." 
 
 "Well," returned Archer, "you may 
 argue about it, but Mr. Watson cannot 
 complain ; for, as you yourself know, he 
 takes, not bo?*rows, from his customers, 
 half a yard of silk, worth half-a-crown, 
 besides numbers of other things of the 
 same kind, which he cannot make up to 
 them in any way. Now I cannot agree 
 with Green altogether, who considers 
 that if he stops away from supper a few 
 nights, he thus repaj^s Mr. Watson for 
 what he may have borrowed ; and I think 
 he estimates the expense his supper 
 would be, if he ate it here, too highly. 
 If I take any thing, I keep an account 
 of it, and put it back most scrupulously 
 as soon as I get my salary. Why, if you 
 chose, you can even pay interest. But 
 I shall have less necessity for borrowing 
 again, for I am to have Green's situation
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 343 
 
 and salary when he goes ; and you I 
 suppose will step into mine." 
 
 "No," replied Mark, "I shall leave 
 next week. My six months are up then, 
 and Mr Watson does not wish me to 
 stay." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Archer.' " How 
 is that?" 
 
 "Why, I dare say you will think it 
 very foolish," said Mark : " but I cannot 
 agree to do every thing he wishes, with- 
 out any consideration whether it is right ; 
 and he says, therefore, I shall never 
 make a good salesman, and I had better 
 leave at once." 
 
 "Foolish! I should think it was," re- 
 plied Archer. "Don't go, Mark ; you'll 
 find it far harder than you think to get 
 another situation, and besides, in many 
 places you might have far worse things 
 to do. Make up your mind to it ; one 
 must live in the world, and it will all
 
 144 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 come right by-and-by, and easy enough 
 to you. Remember what I have told 
 you about Hi} T self." 
 
 "Archer," began Mark gravely, "I 
 do not in the least believe you were a 
 hypocrite then ; I believe you really felt 
 all you 'thought you did, in a certain 
 way ; but I am sure you did not then 
 feel exactly the same as I do now." 
 
 "And how is that?" asked Archer. 
 
 "Why," said Mark, "I have never 
 had such good thoughts as you describe 
 about going out as a missionary, and 
 perhaps I have thought too little about 
 doing good to others ; but I feel as though 
 no life could be so insupportable, as one 
 in which I should be called upon in any 
 way to offend God, and to break the 
 commands of Him who has been beyond 
 all expression good to me, in that he 
 gave his life that I might live, and has 
 helped me in ways that I cannot tell
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 145 
 
 you about. How could I agree to any- 
 thing, then, which I know is displeasing 
 to my best friend and Saviour ?" 
 
 "Mark," replied Archer, "you are 
 too good for this world, that 's the fact. 
 One must live, as you will find by-and- 
 by. Miracles of loaves and fishes don't 
 happen now-a-days." 
 
 "Why did you once wish to be a mis- 
 sionary?" asked Mark. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," answered Ar- 
 cher; "because I knew no better, I 
 believe. I fancied then that it was a 
 fine thing, for I often heard it spoken of 
 in this way, and I thought I should like 
 to be the best thing I could be, and I 
 expected every one would think I was 
 very good to wish for it. It was some- 
 thing like that." 
 
 "Archer," began Mark again, after a 
 little silence, "I think I am afraid at 
 least I do not know but I cannot 
 
 11.-. k .-tf-adman. 19
 
 146 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 understand tliis being your only feeling 
 about it." 
 
 "I know what yon want to say per- 
 fectly well, my good fellow, with all 
 your 'thinks' and 'afraids' and 'can't 
 understands.' You .want to tell me'," 
 said Archer, "that you do not believe I 
 ever did really understand religion, or 
 took it up as a thing of the life and 
 heart that there was no principle in 
 me. Well, perhaps it was so ; at any 
 rate, I have given up the idea now, and 
 cannot begin the same thing again here : 
 after all, these things are very uncer- 
 tain ; I must take my chance." 
 
 "0 Archer," said Mark earnestly, 
 "how can you speak so? Surely, if you 
 look at it merely in the light of self- 
 interest ; if you only believe that there 
 is a heaven and a hell, and a way to en- 
 ter the one and escape the other, it is of 
 deep importance to us to know what that
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 147 
 
 way is ; and it is worth while, at any 
 cost, to enter upon it, and to strive to 
 walk in it. Even if you do not regard 
 the claims which G-od has upon us to 
 accept by faith the salvation he has 
 offered us in his Son, and to give our- 
 selves up to his service, yet, for the sake, 
 of our own souls, it is a serious matter 
 to reject and trifle with these things. Do 
 not be angry with me, Archer, but I do 
 think that you never have really known 
 what it is to feel oneself as a sinner, 
 utterly lost as regards heaven, or a true 
 life in this world, until Jesus takes one 
 up, and gives one life and joy and hope." 
 
 "Ah, Steadman," said Archer, rising, 
 "I am a bad subject, I believe, and my 
 head is splitting, so I must really be off 
 to bed. Good night." 
 
 Mark looked vexed as Archer took up 
 a candle and was leaving the room. Just 
 as he had reached the door, however, he
 
 US MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 hesitated a moment, and then coming 
 back, he put his hand on Mark's shoul- 
 der, and said : 
 
 "Don't look so grieved, old fellow ; I 
 am not in the least hurt at any thing you 
 can say to me, and there well I try 
 to brave it off as well as I can ; but if 
 it is any consolation to you, I assure 
 you, since you have been here, I have 
 thought a great deal about my own con- 
 dition, and bothered myself finely at 
 times. I know I am all wrong, but I 
 feel as though I should never be any 
 thing different." 
 
 " Archer," said Mark, "indeed you 
 need not think so, I am sure 
 
 "Never mind. Good night," inter- 
 rupted Archer, and left the room. 
 
 A new and strange feeling took pos- 
 session of Mark's mind that night. It 
 was the first time that he had realized 
 that he might exercise an influence for
 
 MASTER AND SERVANT. 149 
 
 good over others. He had always been 
 so accustomed to look on himself as 
 among the learners, rather than the 
 teachers, thai he had scarcely regarded 
 it as possible that he could produce any 
 impression on another mind, or direct in 
 any way its thoughts or feelings. Now 
 an earnest sentiment of pity filled his 
 soul, which was in itself both sweet and 
 painful, as he thought over the state of 
 his companion ; and he felt as though he 
 could do or suffer any thing, so that only 
 Archer might be brought to know and 
 feel those truths, the possession of which 
 was all the world to himself. He knew 
 that the power and love of the Good 
 Shepherd could be extended to every 
 wandering sheep ; and Mark earnestly 
 besought the Saviour that night, to bring 
 this wanderer into the holy and happy 
 number of his flock.
 
 150 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE ^SCARLET FEVER. 
 
 "HE must be removed at once," were 
 Miss Finch's decisive words to Mr. Wat- 
 son, as she descended the staircase with 
 him on the following morning. 
 
 "We will wait, at any rate, till Dr. 
 Long comes," replied Mr. Watson ; "but 
 I think myself there ? s no doubt that it 
 is scarlet fever." 
 
 "It is always desirable to act with 
 promptitude," said Miss Finch. "De- 
 lays in these cases are most dangerous : 
 lodgings must be taken for him at once." 
 
 "Perhaps it might be well to make 
 inquiries in the neighborhood," answered 
 Mr. Watson. "But it won't do, of 
 course, to have it known that there ; s a 
 case of scarlet fever in the house, or
 
 THE SCARLET FEVEE. 151 
 
 every one will be afraid to come near 
 the shop. If it's only a slight attack, 
 1 should think you might manage to 
 keep it all quiet up stairs. Archer is 
 too useful to me to be able to afford to 
 lose him out of the house. We do n't 
 know when we might get him back 
 again." 
 
 "And what is to become of us?" ex- 
 claimed Miss Finch in horror. "I assure 
 you, Mr. Watson, I, for one, could not 
 possibly remain in a house where there 
 was scarlet fever. It is the most infec- 
 tious of epidemics." 
 
 " But I dare sa} r you had it when you 
 were y , I mean, some years ago," said 
 Mr. Watson, correcting himself before 
 he had spoken that word, which Miss 
 Finch abhorred almost as much as the 
 scarlet fever. 
 
 "That maybe," replied Miss Finch, 
 "but people never are safe; and I as-
 
 Io2 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 sure you, Mr. Watson, no power on earth 
 will induce me to remain another night 
 in the house, if that young man is to be 
 ill here with the scarlet fever." 
 
 "I never said he was to remain," 
 replied Mr. Watson, somewhat impa- 
 tiently. "If it is likely to be a bad 
 case, of course he must go. I only want 
 to consider what would be the best for 
 the business. I expect Dr. Long will 
 be here directly, and until he comes I 
 shall do nothing." 
 
 Here Mr. Watson entered the door 
 into the shop ; and Miss Finch, who sup- 
 posed she ought not to go out until the 
 doctor had called, in case Mr. Watson 
 might wish her to make some further 
 arrangements about lodgings, went into 
 her room, (which was on the same floor 
 as her parlor,) and putting on her bon- 
 net, cloak, and furs, she returned to her 
 sitting-room, and throwing open both
 
 THE SCARLET FEVEH. 153 
 
 the windows, allowed the bleak Decem- 
 ber blast to blow through the room, 
 while she sat in the farthest corner shiv- 
 ering with cold and fright, utterly re- 
 gardless that there were any sufferings 
 which it might be in her power to relieve, 
 or any one in the house needing a kind, 
 cheering word. 
 
 Due caution in regard to infectious 
 diseases is more than merely prudent, 
 it is right, and the duty of every Chris- 
 tian. There is something, in fact, that 
 seems to offer defiance to God in that 
 reckless spirit which fancies itself secure 
 from every risk ; but, on the other hand, 
 where the danger is very slight, and the 
 duty very apparent, surely such fears 
 are not only the result of a contempti- 
 ble cowardice, but are utterly repugnant 
 to that true spirit of self-forgetfulness, 
 of Which Christ himself was the most 
 noble example.
 
 154: MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 Mark had heard at breakfast-time that 
 Archer was not well, but he was busy 
 in the shop all the morning, and was 
 therefore greatly surprised and grieved 
 when in the afternoon of the day he was 
 told that Archer had been removed from 
 the house to lodgings in the neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 "And ver} r thankful I am sure we 
 may all be, Mr. Steadman," said Miss 
 Finch, who, in answer to Mark's inqui- 
 ries for his friend, communicated to him 
 this intelligence, "that this step has been 
 taken at once, for Dr. Long says that it 
 is likely to be a severe attack. I only 
 hope we may none of us already have 
 taken the infection. For my part, I 
 have kept the windows of my apartment 
 open the whole day, and am now going 
 to the chemist to purchase fumigating 
 powder." 
 
 "But is there any one with Archer?''
 
 THE SCAKLET FEVEK. 155 
 
 asked Mark. "I am afraid lie lias no 
 friends who could come to him." 
 
 "An excellent nurse 'has been pro- 
 vided, Mr. Steadman," replied Miss 
 Finch; "and you may be sure she will 
 pay him every proper attention, and 
 carefully pursue the course recommend- 
 ed by our esteemed medical attendant." 
 
 "I was not thinking of that exactl} 7 "," 
 said Mark. 
 
 "Of course no one in this house will 
 be allowed to go near him, Mr. Stead- 
 man," said Miss Finch. " Indeed, I be- 
 lieve Mr. Watson wishes that the address 
 of the lodgings should not be mentioned 
 in the house, in order to prevent any 
 kind of communication. I do not even 
 know it myself." 
 
 "I should not think of going there 
 while I am here," answered Mark. 
 "There would be the danger of carry- 
 ing the infection to others ; for myself,
 
 156 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 I should not be afraid, as we all had the 
 scarlet fever at home a few years ago." 
 
 "You never can be too safe," said 
 Miss Finch. "My opinion in such mat- 
 ters is, that the first duty of everybody 
 is to take care of himself." 
 
 " If every one did so, what would be- 
 come of people when they were ill, Miss 
 Finch ?" Mark ventured to suggest. 
 
 "Of course I did not refer to doctors 
 and nurses, Mr. Steadman," replied Miss 
 Finch ; " they are paid for the risk they 
 run." 
 
 Mark said no more, for a feeling of 
 deep sadness filled his mind, such as he 
 had seldom before experienced, at the 
 thought of Archer's being so ill, and with 
 no friend near him to speak a word of 
 hope or consolation to his troubled spirit. 
 Only last night Mark had stayed awake, 
 fancying all that he would say to Ar- 
 cher the very next time he could get an
 
 THE SCAKLET FEVER. 157 
 
 opportunity of talking with him. Then 
 this opportunity had seemed so probable 
 and easy ; but now he should be leaving 
 Bristol in a few days, and would most 
 likely never see his companion again. 
 How he wished now that he had only 
 known yesterday of this, or that he had 
 earlier endeavored to become better ac- 
 quainted with him, and had spoken more 
 openly to him of the danger he was run- 
 ning in trifling with such solemn realities 
 so deeply concerning his own personal 
 welfare. Mark felt as if he had been 
 perhaps so much occupied in fighting his 
 own battles, as to be unconscious that 
 beside him was a comrade wounded and 
 beaten down in the combat, and needing 
 the aid of a friend. 
 
 Two or three days passed by, and 
 Mark could obtain no news of Archer. 
 Miss Finch was quite laid up with a very 
 severe cold, which she had taken in con-
 
 158 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 sequence of exposing herself to the cold 
 air from the open windows in her anxi- 
 ety to escape the least chance of infec- 
 tion from the fever ; which, considering 
 the age of the good lady, and that she 
 was to some extent protected by having 
 already had the disease, was certainly 
 choosing the worst evil of the two ; the 
 one being nearly imaginary, the other 
 real. Archer's place had been already 
 temporarily supplied, and Mr. Watson 
 had said nothing to Mark as though he 
 wished to retain him after his time was 
 up, which would be on Friday. He had 
 therefore written to his mother, telling 
 her that he expected to go home on 
 that day. 
 
 On Wednesday Dr. Long called, and 
 wished to see Mr. Watson. Immediate]}^ 
 after his departure, Mark went to his 
 uncle, full of anxiety to hear some news 
 of poor Archer. The account which his
 
 THE SCARLET FEVER. 159 
 
 uncle gave him was most distressing. 
 Dr. Long thought verv bacllv of the case. 
 
 v 
 
 and gave but slight hope of recovery ; 
 the object of his call on Mr. Watson was 
 to inquire whether none of the young 
 man's friends could come to him. He 
 was perfectly satisfied with the skill 
 and attention of the nurse, but consid- 
 ered that the patient's present symp- 
 toms were aggravated by the depression 
 of mind which came upon him at every 
 return of consciousness. Mr. Watson 
 had told Dr. Long, that on the first day 
 of Archers illness he wrote to his uncle 
 at his request, but had since received a 
 letter from him, wishing Mr. Watson to 
 see that his nephew had every thing 
 necessary, but also adding that in con- 
 sequence of his own young family, it 
 would be impossible that either he or 
 his wife could come to him. 
 
 "It is very sad," concluded Mr. Wat-
 
 160 MAKK STEADMAN. 
 
 son. " I am sure I would gladly go and 
 see him if I could, but I should be afraid 
 for my own children at home ; and be- 
 sides, it would not do on account of the 
 customers : you see people are so very 
 particular.''' 
 
 A general depression seemed to come 
 over every one in the house as this sad 
 news was known. Scarcely a word was 
 spoken at the dinner-table, for they all 
 remembered how Charlie Archer had so 
 lately been the very life of the party, 
 and how his lively remarks had always 
 served to call forth a laugh from his 
 companions, and to keep them amused. 
 The ideas of terror and gloom which 
 most of them associated with death, made 
 the contrast of his present condition all 
 the more striking to them, as they recol- 
 lected his late vivacity. And more than 
 that, the suddenness with which this 
 awful summons had come to one who a
 
 THE SCARLET FEVEK. 1Q1 
 
 day or two ago appeared as imlikety to 
 receive it as any of them, could not fail 
 to produce an impression upon their 
 minds in reminding them how closely 
 they might be advancing to the borders 
 of another world, the qualifications for 
 which were of a very different nature 
 from those by which thej^ were hoping 
 to succeed in this life. The great truths 
 on which depend our future destiny as- 
 sumed a very different aspect now from 
 that of mere dogmas, which might be 
 made the subjects of irreverent, trivial 
 discussions, and which were to be re- 
 ceived or not as fancy or fashion might 
 dictate. 
 
 As for Mark, his mind was so com- 
 pletely occupied with what he had been 
 told of the state of his poor friend, that 
 he could scarcely attend to any thing 
 else ; but at last, after much thought and 
 pra} T er, he formed the resolution of going 
 
 Ma.k Ste.!m.-u>. 11 '
 
 1G2 MAEK 8TEADMAN. 
 
 to him, if possible, immediately on leav- 
 ing his uncle's, hoping that he might, by 
 God's help, be of some use and comfort 
 to him. But first of all he thought it 
 right to ask his mother's advice and per- 
 mission, because he felt he could not 
 cause her any anxiety on his own ac- 
 count without her consent, though he 
 fancied he knew pretty well what she 
 would say. He wrote her a very long 
 letter therefore, that evening, and told 
 her all the particulars of Archer's ill- 
 ness, his friendless state, and described 
 also, as well as he could, what had pass- 
 ed between them the evening on which 
 he was first taken ill. Having done 
 this, he felt he could only wait patiently 
 till Friday came, and he should be free. 
 
 On Friday morning he received the 
 following letter from his mother. 
 
 "MY DEAREST MARK: I have been 
 thinking a great deal over your long
 
 THE SCARLET FEVEK. 163 
 
 letter which I received this morning. 
 At first I almost felt as though I must 
 go myself at once to that poor young 
 man ; but this, you know, is impossible, 
 as I could not leave the business here. 
 I seem as though I could think of noth- 
 ing else all day but his being alone 
 there in that sad condition, with nobody 
 near him to speak a word of the mercy 
 and grace of the blessed Saviour. My 
 dear Mark, I could not tell you not to 
 go to him ; if there was any relative that 
 could be with him the case would be 
 different, but if God wishes to send a 
 message to his soul by you, my dear 
 son, how could I bid you not to take it? 
 I have thought about it and I have 
 prayed about it; and this afternoon I 
 saw Mr. Lewis passing by, who attended 
 all of j r ou when you had the scarlet- 
 fever three years ago, and I asked him 
 what he thought about it, and he says,
 
 164 31 ARK STEADMAN. 
 
 my dear, that the risk would be next to 
 nothing for you, as you had it so lately ; 
 but still, you had better take proper 
 precautions to keep in good health. He 
 asked, why didn't they send for a cler- 
 gyman or minister to see him ? but I 
 know in illness that 's a word here and 
 a word there, just as the sick person 
 wants it and can hear it, which is of use. 
 Very often if any body comes, it ? s at 
 the wrong time, and sometimes a long 
 conversation with a stranger is very bad 
 for the patient; besides, I expect you'll 
 find, my dear, that the poor fellow is 
 out of his head most of the time, and 
 it's only just now and then that you 
 may be able to say a word to comfort 
 him ; and then if yon are there, and you 
 find he would like to see any one, you 
 can send at once. I hope and pray that 
 God will direct you for the best in every 
 thing. I have generally found in ill-
 
 THE SCARLET FEVER. 165 
 
 ness that it is n't so well to read much 
 just a verse or so repeated now and then 
 is much more comforting and not so 
 tiring, because you see, my dear, when 
 people are ill their minds are as differ- 
 ent as can be from when they are well. 
 If I were you, I would just try continu- 
 ally to keep the blessed Saviour before 
 him, as though he was indeed a true, 
 living, loving friend, standing by and 
 saying now, just as much as when he 
 was on earth, ' Come unto me, all ye 
 that labor, and I will give you rest.' 
 
 "If there's any thing 3*011 want to 
 know about, or if there J s any thing I 
 can send you from home that you think 
 the clear lad would like, you let me 
 know at once. I do wish I could come 
 to him, poor fellow ; I suppose he hard- 
 ly ever knew his mother, from what you 
 say; but she was a good woman, and 
 died busy about the Lord's work, so
 
 166 MARK STEADMAX. 
 
 you may depend upon it he wo n't de- 
 sert her bo} r . I have no doubt there 's 
 many of her prayers yet to be answered 
 for him, that she put up when he was 
 but a little baby. I thought of so many 
 things I wanted to say to you, but they 
 seem all gone out of my head now : you 
 must write to me eveiy day, 1113- dear 
 Mark, and let me know how you are 
 getting on, for I shall be so anxious to 
 hear ; and if you feel the least bit ill in 
 any way, be sure you tell the doctor 
 directly. You may be certain I shall 
 be always praying for you and for Mr. 
 Archer too. God bless you, my dear- 
 est boy. 
 
 "Your ever loving mother, 
 
 "MAKY STEADMAX." 
 
 On the receipt of his mother's letter, 
 Mark went at once to Mr. Watson, and 
 told him of his intention of going to take 
 care of Archer instead of returning home
 
 THE SCAELET FEVER. 1G7 
 
 that day, as he had previously decided 
 to do. 
 
 "It is very kind, I am sure," said Mr. 
 Watson; "and as your mother wishes 
 it, I do not see any objection. I hope 
 you will find that he has every thing 
 which is necessary ; but if he wants any 
 thing he has not already, I beg you will 
 just send me a line to let me know." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Mark. 
 
 "And I may as well say now," con- 
 tinued Mr. Watson, "that I shall always 
 retain a high opinion of your character, 
 Mark, and if you hear of another situa- 
 tion, I shall be very happy to say all I 
 can for you. Indeed, if you were wish- 
 ing to go into a bank now, or any place 
 of trust, I should not object to stand 
 security for you, which is more than I 
 would do for any other young man I 
 know, now-a-days. I do not think you 
 are fit for our line of business, as I told
 
 168 MAllK 8 Ti; A DM AX. 
 
 you before, and I am sorry for it: still, 
 if I had n't this very morning engaged a 
 first-class salesman in Green's place, I 
 would not mind keeping you another 
 six months, just to see if you wouldn't 
 get accustomed to it. What you want 
 is to see a little more of the world and 
 its Vf&ys, and then you would not think 
 so much of your own opinions.'' 
 
 "Thank you," replied Mark; "then 
 in taking another situation, you will 
 allow me to refer any one to you." 
 
 "To be sure," said Mr. Watson; "I 
 shall be most happy to say what I know 
 of you, and I hope you will soon hear 
 of something to } T our mind, and get on 
 well. In the meantime, you will do well 
 to think over all I have said to you, and 
 sooner or later you will find it is quite 
 true." 
 
 Mr. Watson then gave Mark the ad- 
 dress of Archer's lodgings, and wishing
 
 THE SCAHLET FEVER. 169 
 
 him good-by, left him to pack up his 
 box:, ready to be sent round to him. 
 
 As Mark put in his things, he could 
 not help thinking of the evening six 
 months ago, when he had watched his 
 mother, as she, far more carefully than 
 he was doing, fitted one package after 
 another into that box, while he stood 
 beside her, full of hopes and fears as to 
 the future, neither of which he had found 
 to be realized. He had trembled then, 
 as he thought how hard it would be for 
 him to maintain the life of a Christian 
 amid so many opposing influences, and 
 he had greatly feared lest in the end he 
 might be led to deny Christ, and make 
 shipwreck of his faith ; mingled with 
 these fears were dreams of hope as to 
 all that he would do and become. 
 
 Mark had hoped that by industry and 
 honesty he should make himself so val- 
 uable to his uncle, that he would rise
 
 170 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 by degrees, until he became a partner 
 in the firm. Then his mother was to 
 give up her business to his brother Jo- 
 seph, and to come and live with him in 
 rest and plenty for the remainder of her 
 days. But how strangely different it 
 had all been ! Instead of rising to a 
 higher situation, his uncle did not even 
 consider him fit for the one he held, and 
 predicted no success for him in the fu- 
 ture. As for supporting his mother, he 
 was returning to be a burden upon her, 
 though he determined that this should 
 be only for a short time. The advan- 
 tages which he had fancied were his, in 
 having so prosperous a relative as Mr. 
 AYatson, had turned out to be just noth- 
 ing at all ; and he found that instead of 
 depending on the power of his uncle to 
 help him forward and advance his posi- 
 tion, he could only still repeat the daily 
 prayer of his childhood to his Father in
 
 THE SCARLET FEVEE. 171 
 
 heaven, "Give us this day our daily 
 bread." On the other hand, he had 
 learned two great lessons in regard to 
 his former fears and fancies about the 
 world. One was, that, in enterino; into 
 a sphere of danger, m obedience, not to 
 our own inclinations, but to the call of 
 duty, we ma}' fully depend on the prom- 
 ise of God, that for every temptation 
 which we may meet with there, he can 
 and will grant a corresponding sufficien- 
 cy of grace to enable us to resist it ; and 
 having this divine strength within us, 
 we shall prove the truth of that saying, 
 "Greater is he that is in you, than he 
 that is in the world." 
 
 The second lesson he had been taught 
 did much to correct his previous notions, 
 as to what the world really was. He 
 no longer regarded it as some strange 
 monster, which "to be hated, needs but 
 to be seen.'"' On the contrary, he dis-
 
 172 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 covered so much in his own nature which 
 constantly disposed him to sympathize 
 with its opinions, tastes, and feelings, 
 that he felt convinced that the enemy 
 he needed to Ayateh and pray against 
 was not some new foreign foe, but in 
 fact a part of himself, which he must 
 carry about with him wherever he might 
 be. Let him live where he might, if he 
 yielded to this side of his frail nature, 
 he would, he felt sure, become worldly ; 
 for "the world " was nothing more than 
 an assemblage of people who thus lived ; 
 the only difference to himself being, that 
 in their company the temptation to give 
 way was much stronger than when sur- 
 rounded by those who were animated 
 by a higher principle, and the struggle, 
 therefore, to live the life of a citizen of 
 heaven so much the harder.
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 173 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE VISITOR AND THE jSicK PENITENT. 
 
 IN the afternoon, about two o'clock, 
 Mark -having said "Good-by" to his 
 companions, and having been admitted 
 to a farewell visit to Miss Finch, who 
 was now well enough to be reclining on 
 the sofa in her sitting-room, dressed in 
 a robe-de-chambre of scarlet flannel, left 
 his uncle's house, and proceeded to Ar- 
 cher's lodgings. He had very little idea 
 of what he should do when lie got there, 
 but the desire to comfort and help his 
 friend was strong within him, and he 
 trusted that the best way to do this 
 would be made plain to him when the 
 time came. He had scarcely ever seen 
 any one ill ; and his idea of sick per- 
 sons, and of what they did and said, was
 
 174 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 principally gathered from various books 
 which he had read. He therefore fan- 
 cied that Archer would at once begin to 
 speak to him of his state of mind as 
 clearly and sensibly as though he were 
 well, and that he would be ready at any 
 time to hear Mark read, or say any thing 
 he thought proper. 
 
 Oh, how very little do those who have 
 never known severe illness imagine how 
 difficult it is at such times to fix the mind 
 on any subject, even though the most 
 important interests may be involved in 
 it. An erroneous impression too much 
 prevails, that suffering has a tendency 
 in itself to turn the mind to the contem- 
 plation of heavenly things ; whereas the 
 fact is, that the natural effect of physical 
 pain is to deaden the feelings, to obscure 
 the understanding, and to fix the atten- 
 tion so strongly on the body, as to cre- 
 ate a more than ordinary indifference in
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 175 
 
 regard to (he soul. It is readily ac- 
 knowledged, that in such slight indispo- 
 sitions as fall to the lot of all at times, 
 the mind is unfit for its usual engage- 
 ments in the affairs of life ; but it is not 
 fully realized that a ;< sickness unto 
 death" is nothing more than a greatly 
 aggravated state of weakness, pain, and 
 incapacity of just the same nature, being 
 only different in degree. Ask any prac- 
 tical person a medical man or a nurse 
 about the peculiar clearness and percep- 
 tion with which persons are supposed, 
 in the last hour, to see things in a vry 
 different light from when in health, and 
 to feel an interest in subjects to which 
 they have hitherto been perfectly indif- 
 ferent, and they who have been con- 
 stantly in the habit of watching sickness 
 and death will answer that they scarcely 
 understand what you mean. 
 
 Some accounts have been written,
 
 176 MAKE. STEADMAN. 
 
 which, because they are so rare, have 
 therefore been thought worthy of record, 
 of the death-beds of certain individuals 
 whose eventide has been brighter than 
 their day ; but, general^ speaking, even 
 those who have long known and loved 
 the Saviour, and who for many years 
 have been living on earth as citizens of 
 heaven even these, once so ready to 
 respond to every holy thought and sen- 
 timent, exhibit at last, when the percep- 
 tions are confused and dim, and sensa- 
 tion fails, less of that vivid interest and 
 emotion which they displayed in health 
 at the mention of that precious Name, 
 and in every thing in any way connected 
 with his service. 
 
 And if those who, during their life- 
 time, have often been constrained to 
 say, "Whom have I in heaven but thee, 
 and there is none upon earth that I de- 
 sire beside thee," find that when heart
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 177 
 
 and flesh are failing they are less, rather 
 than more able to think and feel as they 
 have been accustomed to Ho, is it at all 
 likely that any will find this an advan- 
 tageous state in which to attempt, for the 
 first time, to direct the mind to a subject 
 hitherto neglected and treated with in- 
 difference, and in which every thing has 
 yet to be discovered and learned? It is 
 true that the power and love of the Sav- 
 iour have been manifested to some who 
 have long rebelled against him, even in 
 the last extremitj^ ; but let none imagine 
 that this has been because the mind was 
 then more free to accept this mercy, or 
 more capable of understanding the way 
 of salvation. The records of such rare 
 cases are only designed to show us that 
 forgiveness through Jesus Christ is grant- 
 ed to all who seek it by a true faith, even 
 to the very verge of the time allotted to 
 us on earth ; but the plain fact is, that 
 
 Murk .....-
 
 178 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 very few who have lived to that hour 
 careless and unconcerned have any wish 
 or power to seek it then. 
 
 On Mark's arrival at Archer's lodg- 
 ings, he asked first to speak to the 
 nurse, who appeared to him a very in- 
 telligent, gentle -looking person, very 
 different from the one or two specimens 
 of the same class which he had previ- 
 ously seen. She informed him that his 
 friend, though still exceedingly ill, had 
 seemed more conscious during the day, 
 and better able to take nourishment. 
 This was a great relief to Mark's mind, 
 for he had feared he might be too late to 
 be of any use to the poor young man. 
 He told the nurse that he was a friend 
 of Archer's, and that he had come to 
 stay for a few days with him. She seemed 
 much pleased to hear this, and said that 
 she thought it was just the thing that 
 would do him good when he got a little
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 170 
 
 better. She then went up stairs, and 
 coming down again presently, told Mark 
 that Mr. Archer seemed to be awake, 
 and she thought he might as well go up 
 and see him at once. 
 
 Mark was startled and shocked, as he 
 entered the room, to see the great change 
 which the few days' illness had made in 
 his companion. He had expected to see 
 him looking thin and pale, for he fancied 
 that every one appeared thus when in 
 illness; but as he took a seat by the 
 bedside, he felt as though he were about 
 to speak to a stranger, and could scarcely 
 believe it was really Charlie Archer 
 whom he saw before him. The novelty 
 of the situation, and the unusual appear- 
 ance of the invalid, quite took away from 
 Mark the power of saying any of those 
 things which he had previously resolved 
 on, as appropriate to the occasion. He 
 sat for a few minutes in silence, over-
 
 180 MAIIK STEADMAN. 
 
 come by a strange feeling of shyness and 
 incapacity, until the nurse called Ar- 
 cher's attention to him by saying, "Here, 
 sir, is a friend come to see you. You 
 will like that now, won't you?" 
 
 Archer opened his eyes, and looked 
 at Mark for a minute or two, as Mark 
 took his hand, and asked him how he 
 was. 
 
 "I don't know," replied Archer. 
 " How did you come here ?" 
 
 "I came here on purpose to see if I 
 could do any thing for you," said Mark. 
 "The doctor said he thought you would 
 be glad to have some one with you." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Archer. "I 
 don't want any thing," and turning his 
 head wearily on the pillow, he closed 
 his eyes again. Mark, had seldom felt 
 more awkward and uncomfortable in his 
 life. He did not in the least know what to 
 do, where to go, or what to say. He still
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 181 
 
 had the strongest desire to help and com- 
 fort his friend ; but yet he seemed to be 
 of no use, and he almost wished that he 
 could go away. He had expected that 
 Archer would be quite overcome with 
 joy at seeing the face of a friend beside 
 him : and he had fancied how they should 
 almost immediately have begun to talk 
 of those things which he thought must 
 so much oppress Archer's mind in his 
 present dangerous condition. But, ex- 
 cepting in occasional visits to the sick- 
 room, the afternoon was spent by Mark 
 alone in the bedroom which had been 
 assigned to him. Here he could only 
 pray to God for his friend ; and feeling 
 now most deeply the futility of all human 
 aid, he was led the more humbly and 
 entirely to cast this care on God, and to 
 trust wholly to the infinite power and 
 love of Christ to help and save, even at 
 the last moment, the sinner who should
 
 182 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 come i > him. Mark remembered those 
 words, "Him that comcth to me I will 
 in no wise cast out," and on these he 
 endeavored to rest his hopes. 
 
 About six o'clock the nurse brought 
 Mark some tea, and asked him if he 
 thought she might go out for half an 
 hour, as she had not been able to leave 
 at all during the last few days, and 
 whether he would mind sitting with his 
 friend. Mark was only too glad to be 
 employed, and to find that, after all, he 
 need not be wholly useless, if he could 
 do no more than relieve the nurse occa- 
 sionally. She told him Archer seemed 
 to be asleep, and would not require any 
 thing till her return, as she had given 
 him the medicine a short time before, 
 when she had also asked him if he would 
 not like to see Mark, but he had not 
 taken any notice of what she said. 
 
 Mark softly entered the sick-room,
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 183 
 
 and sat down near the door. Here he 
 remained for some time in perfect silence, 
 broken only by the sound of occasional 
 footfalls in the street, the dropping of 
 the embers from the fire, or the opening 
 and shutting of a door below stairs. At 
 length two or three restless movements 
 o.i the part of the patient caused Mark 
 to get up and go towards him. He fixed 
 his eyes on Mark for a minute, and then 
 he said : 
 
 "I thought it was all a dreain that 
 you were here." 
 
 " No," replied Mark, sitting down be- 
 side him, "it was no dream ; I am really 
 here, and I am come to stay with you 
 for a few days, to see if I can be of any 
 use to you ; so I hope you will order me 
 about just as you please." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Archer, "I 
 wanted you so ; but I did not think it 
 could be true that you were really here."
 
 184 MAJiK HEADMAN. 
 
 "Did you?' 7 exclaimed Mark. "0 
 Archer, I would have come if I could 
 before now, but I only left Mr. Watson 
 this afternoon. I am so glad you want 
 me to stay." 
 
 "Yes, do stay." said Archer earnestly. 
 "You must not leave me again; you 
 won't, will you ?" 
 
 "No, indeed," replied Mark; "I will 
 stay with you as long as you like, never 
 fear." 
 
 "I have thought of you many times 
 since I have been so ill," said Archer. 
 " I wanted to talk to you, but my head 
 is quite lost, and I do n't know what to 
 say. I can't even think. You must 
 talk to me." 
 
 "Shall I repeat a hymn to you?" 
 asked Mark. " I think that will be bet- 
 ter for you than talking, perhaps." 
 
 "Thank you," said Archer. 
 
 Mark then repeated the beautiful hymn:
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 185 
 
 "Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 
 Let me to thy bosom fly, 
 While the raging billows roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is nigh : 
 Hide me, O my Saviour hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past : 
 Safe into the haven guide ; 
 
 Oh, receive my soul at last. 
 
 " Other refuge have I none, 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; 
 Leave, ah, leave me not alone ! 
 
 Still support and comfort me. 
 All my trust on thee is stayed, 
 
 All my help from thee I bring ; 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the shadow <?f thy wing. 
 
 "Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; 
 
 More than all in thee I find ; 
 Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 
 
 Heal the sick, and lead the blind. 
 Plenteous grace with thee is found, 
 
 Grace to pardon all my sin ; 
 Let the healing stream abound, 
 
 Make and keep me pure within." 
 
 "Thank yon," said Archer, when 
 Mark had finished ; "that is enough." 
 
 Mark wanted to say something else, 
 but he did not know how to begin. He
 
 186 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 found it so difficult to decide on what 
 was just the right thing to say; but 
 after a short silence he said with some 
 effort : 
 
 "Archer, if you are at all afraid that 
 Jesus Christ will not save you, I am 
 quite sure that you need not be, for he 
 is only waiting for you to put your soul 
 into his hands." 
 
 " Yes, Mark, that is just what I want- 
 ed to say," replied Archer, "only my 
 head is so bad, I cannot think of any 
 thing. I was going to say that it was of 
 no use for you to repeat hymns like that 
 one to me. There was a time when I 
 think I might have been able to enter 
 into it, but I gave it all up for the sake 
 of getting on and being like others. 
 Only the other day, I thought what a 
 fool you were, Mark, to leave Mr. Wat- 
 son, and I was so pleased that he had 
 given me Green's situation ; but I see it
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 187 
 
 so different!}' now, when it 's too late, 
 for I believe it 's all over with me." 
 
 " Indeed," replied Mark earnestly, "I 
 do not think so. I don't say this only 
 just to comfort you, Archer, but I do 
 most honestly believe, that if you can 
 only just give up your soul to the Sav- 
 iour, and trust in his power and grace 
 to save you through the merits of his 
 precious blood and righteousness, it is 
 not too late for you. You know that 
 1 now is the accepted time,' not any par- 
 ticular time which you may think of, 
 and which is passed away. Try to 
 think that he is now standing close to 
 you, waiting to say, 'Thy sins are for- 
 given thec." : 
 
 "I am so stupid and confused that I 
 can think of nothing," said Archer, 
 moving restlessly, "except that all the 
 past keeps coming into my mind, wheth- 
 er I will or no. It 's no use, Mark."
 
 188 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 "But whenever the past comes back," 
 said Mark, "try to look away from that 
 to Jesus, and try to realize that his mer- 
 cy and merits are far greater than our 
 sins." 
 
 "I will try," said Archer; "but it s 
 all np with me, I know." 
 
 Just then the nurse returned, and 
 soon after the doctor paid his evening 
 visit. Mark had quite hoped from what 
 the nurse had said on his arrival, that 
 the medical man's report of the state of 
 his patient would have been better than 
 it was. In answer to Mark's inquiries, 
 Dr. Long shook his head, and said he 
 did not think there was any improve- 
 ment; there were some sj'mptoms even 
 which he thought indicated a less favor- 
 able state than when he had seen him 
 in the morning. 
 
 Towards night the delirium returned, 
 and the nurse told Mark she thought he
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 189 
 
 had better leave his friend and go to 
 bed, as he could be of no further use 
 then, and might, after some hours' sleep, 
 be able to relieve her for a little time 
 in the morning. To this he unwillingly 
 consented, the nurse having promised 
 to call him immediately if any change 
 for the worse should occur. 
 
 Mark was quite certain that he should 
 not be able to sleep, but after many an 
 earnest supplication that God would 
 have mercy on his friend, and in the 
 last hour even, reveal to him pardon 
 and peace through Jesus Christ, he fell 
 asleep; and on waking found, to his sur- 
 prise and annoyance, that it was already 
 daylight. jj^ 
 
 The account which he received from 
 the nurse that morning was very bad. 
 Archer htid passed a very restless night. 
 He was now quieter, and she thought, 
 more conscious \ but during the last few
 
 190 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 hours his throat had become so much 
 worse that it was with the greatest diffi- 
 culty she could induce him to make the 
 effort to swallow any thing, and he 
 seemed also to have almost lost the 
 power of speaking. 
 
 
 
 Mark sat beside him for some time 
 during the morning, occasionally repeat- 
 ing a hymn or some passage of Scrip- 
 ture, such as he thought might tend to 
 calm his mind and direct his thoughts 
 
 o 
 
 to the Saviour. He could not, however, 
 be always sure that Archer understood 
 what he said, or was aware of what was 
 passing around him, excepting that once 
 or twice he opened his eyes and fixed 
 them on Mark in-a peculiarly earnest 
 manner, which maue the nurse think, 
 that though less capable of holding com- 
 munication with others than yesterday, 
 his mind might yet be in itself more 
 clear and conscious.
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 191 
 
 This gave Mark courage and hope, 
 and strengthened his faith in the belief 
 that God would hear his prayers for his 
 poor friend, and show him at last the 
 greatness of the power and mercy of the 
 Saviour. 
 
 The visit of the doctor only confirmed 
 Mark's worst fears. Soon after he was 
 gone, Archer appeared to sink into a 
 stupor, from which he could not be 
 roused to take either food or medicine, 
 and from which the nurse thought he 
 never would again awake. This to Mark 
 was very painful, but he felt that his 
 friend was in the hands of One whose 
 love far exceeded his own, and that, if 
 it was never granted to him to hear 
 from his own lips that he had at last 
 found rest in the power and mercy of 
 the Saviour, yet he could not but trust 
 that this salvation had been made known 
 to him in these last hours.
 
 192 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 Mark did not like to leave the house, 
 though he did . not spend the whole of 
 that long day in the sick-room. When- 
 ever he could relieve the nurse, he sat 
 beside his friend ; at other times, by Dr. 
 Long's advice, he stayed for a while in 
 his own room, so as to get a little change 
 of air. But he found it difficult to em- 
 ploy himself in any way, until, at last, 
 he began to write a letter to his mother, 
 telling, her that, in all probability he 
 should return home in a few days, and 
 describing all that had passed since he 
 had been with Archer. It was about 
 five o'clock in the afternoon that he was 
 thus occupied, when the nurse called to 
 him ; and on his going into Archer's 
 room, she told him that she believed the 
 last change was come on. Mark went 
 up to the bedside, and taking his friend's 
 hand, he could not help exclaiming in- 
 voluntarily,
 
 VISITOK AND SICK PENITENT. 193 
 
 "Oh, Archer, are you happy now?" 
 To his surprise, Archer once more 
 opened his eyes, and fixing them with 
 an earnest gaze on Mark, he said in a 
 low whisper, and with great difficulty, 
 "Is that you, Mark? God bless you! 
 Jesus has been with me all this clay. 
 Into his hands I commit my soul." 
 
 This was all; but it was more than 
 enough for Mark. As he bent clown, 
 his feelings became perfectly uncontrol- 
 lable, and he scarcely knew where he 
 was, until the nurse reminded him that 
 it was all over, and that he had better 
 leave the room. He found it almost 
 impossible to realize at first that the 
 anxiety and earnest longing of the last 
 few days were at an end, that he need 
 have no more care for his late compan- 
 ion, and that he now no longer needed 
 those prayers which, only a very short 
 
 time since, he had offered up so earnest- 
 Mark Steodman. 13
 
 194 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 ly on his behalf; and then came natu- 
 rally the remembrance of Charlie Archer 
 as he had first seen him only six months 
 ago, full of life and gayety, having appa- 
 rently so peculiarly strong a hold on 
 this life ; and he could scarcely persuade 
 himself that all this had passed away in 
 so brief a space of time. But from this 
 he turned to the remembrance of his last 
 words, and to the hope that he was now 
 with Christ in paradise. This seemed 
 to bring heaven very near to himself; 
 he felt as if he too had been to the gates 
 of the new Jerusalem, though it was not 
 yet permitted to him to enter, but given 
 to him, rather, still to fight the good 
 fight, and to serve God with good and 
 true service upon earth. Oh, that he 
 might be enabled to endure to the end, 
 and to be found busy about his Master's 
 work, and not his own, when he should 
 call him !
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 195 
 
 Mark was disturbed from such thoughts 
 and feelings as these by a visit from Dr. 
 Long, who undertook to see Mr. Wat- 
 son, and make all the necessary arrange- 
 ments. Mark then finished his letter to 
 his mother, and fixed to return home by 
 the steamer which left Bristol on Mon- 
 day evening ; and though he would have 
 still liked to follow the jearthly remains 
 of his friend to their last resting-place, 
 yet he felt sure that his mother would 
 feel anxious if he remained any longer 
 in that house, and would desire to have 
 him with her now as soon as possible. 
 
 The next day was the Sabbath, and 
 Mark sometimes spoke afterwards of this 
 day as one of the. happiest of his life. 
 There was such a calm solemnity about 
 those quiet hours, such as he never re- 
 membered before to have experienced. 
 The noise and strife of earth were so far 
 away, and the joys of heaven so near,
 
 196 3IABK STEADJIAN. 
 
 that it seemed a light thing now to 
 "choose rather to suffer affliction with 
 the people of G-od, than to enjoy the 
 pleasures of sin for a season ;" and Mark 
 could scarcely believe that, only so short 
 a time ago he had thought so much of 
 this world, and of how he should get on 
 in it, as to be almost tempted to give up 
 seeking first the kingdom of God, and 
 to endeavor rather to serve his own in- 
 terests, and let obedience to God[s com- 
 mands be second to what might tend to 
 his own advancement. Now he felt, as 
 he had never done before, what that 
 "good part' 7 really was, and how bless- 
 ed were they who chose it, and held to 
 it through life to death. 
 
 In the afternoon Mr. Locke called, on 
 his return from his Bible-class, and per- 
 suaded Mark to come out with him. Mr. 
 Locke, as has been already said, had a 
 peculiar faculty for entering into and
 
 VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 197 
 
 understanding the ideas and feelings of 
 those with whom he came in contact, 
 and Mark greatly enjoyed the quiet talk 
 with him over all that had passed during 
 the last few days. He insisted on bring- 
 ing Mark home with him to tea, and had 
 this meal prepared in another room for 
 Mark and himself, in order to avoid any 
 danger of infection to Mrs. Locke or the 
 children. They afterwards went togeth- 
 er to the evening service, and it was 
 with deep regret that Mark bade fare- 
 well to this kind and true friend.
 
 198 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 THE RETURN HOME. 
 
 THE steamer Avas to leave the Hot- 
 Veils at the early hour- of one o'clock in 
 the morning; and at ten Mark went on 
 board, where, after supper, he made him- 
 self as comfortable as he could for the 
 night. The weather was cold, but clear 
 and frosty ; they had a very quiet voy- 
 age ; and at about nine o'clock, Mark, 
 as he stood on the deck, again caught 
 sight of the well-known rocks over which 
 he had so often clambered, and soon 
 after the vessel entered the harbor, past 
 the pierhead where Captain Jack's black 
 ball announced that the tide would per- 
 mit them to go up to the town. 
 
 Mark looked out anxiously along the 
 pier, expecting to catch a sight of his
 
 THE HETURN HOME. 199 
 
 uncle ; but on arriving at the quay, the 
 first object that met his eye was his sis- 
 ter Mary, with the good captain beside 
 her, waving his glazed hat with every 
 demonstration of welcome and joy. The 
 plank was scarcely laid clown before he 
 had hobbled upon the deck, and seizing 
 both Mark's shoulders with the iron 
 grasp of his large hands, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Thank the Lord yon 're safe in port 
 again, my boy, and come back with your 
 colors up. I can ? t say we 're not all very 
 glad to see you; and not so much ashamed 
 of you neither as might have been." 
 
 And as Mark followed his sister on 
 shore, Captain Jack continued to exhibit 
 his intense satisfaction to all around him 
 by a succession of beaming smiles, sun- 
 dry knowing twitches of his eyebrow, 
 and several very vehement jerks of his 
 elbow in the direction of Mark. 
 
 As they drew nigh to the house where
 
 200 MARK STEADMAX. 
 
 the little Highlander still maintained his 
 post at the door, Mark caught sight of 
 his mother, and hastened across to greet 
 her. They all entered the house to- 
 gether. Mark's first business was to do 
 justice to the comfortable warm break- 
 fast which his mother had prepared for 
 him; and this being ended, and many 
 inquiries -made and answered, Captain 
 Jack, taking out his great watch, said, 
 
 * 
 
 "It wants three-quarters of an hour now 
 of the time when she '11 be looking out 
 for me to haul her down, so I must be 
 soon ; but before we part, I should like 
 for us to sing the 121st psalm, common 
 metre; tune, 'London Xew.' ? 
 
 "To heaven I lift my -waiting eyes, 
 
 There all my hopes are laid ; 
 The Lord that built the .earth and skies 
 Is my perpetual aid. 
 
 "Their feet shall never slide to fall 
 
 Whom he designs to keep ; 
 His ears attend the softest call, 
 His eyes can never sleep.
 
 THE RETURN HOME. 201 
 
 "He will sustain our weakest powers 
 
 With his almighty arm, 
 And watch our most unguarded hours 
 Against surprising harm. 
 
 "Israel, rejoice, and rest secure, 
 
 Thy keeper is the Lord ; 
 His watchful eyes employ his power * 
 For thine eternal guard. 
 
 "He guards thy soul, he keeps thy breath, 
 
 Where thickest dangers come : 
 Go and return, secure from death, 
 Till God command thee home. " 
 
 Mark had been scarcely more than a 
 fortnight at home, when he was sur- 
 prised, one day, to receive a letter from 
 Mr. Watson. It was very short ; but 
 lie stated, in a few words, how he had 
 discovered that he had been defrauded 
 to a considerable extent by the young 
 men in his employ; that he was now 
 about to dismiss those he had, and to 
 engage others; and he. wished to know 
 whether, if Mark had not yet found an- 
 other situation, he would return to him.
 
 202 MAKE STEADMAN. 
 
 "I believe," concluded he, "that your 
 conscientiousness is a genuine article, and 
 not an inferior imitation which will not 
 stand the wear and tear of circumstan- 
 ce^ and self-interest ; and if you consent 
 to return, it shall be on no conditions 
 other than those imposed by your own 
 conscience. I also desire that you should 
 at once take the position due to my 
 nephew, and you will be acknowledged 
 as such by me/' 
 
 Of course Mark decided to accept his 
 uncle's proposal ; and very thankful in- 
 deed did he feel that God had again 
 opened this path before him, for he was 
 persuaded that it was quite possible to 
 maintain the perfect uprightness of char- 
 acter demanded by the law of God, and 
 yet to be an active, clever, and by God's 
 blessing, a successful man of business. 
 
 It will not be necessary to follow 
 Mark again to Mr. Watson's, nor to
 
 THE RETURN HOME. 203 
 
 watch hi in any longer, as he still fought 
 his way against the world, the flesh, and 
 the devil. We have seen him take his 
 first step and it was but the first in 
 that course which was to end only with 
 his life. In taking this first step, we 
 have remarked the great advantage 
 which he at once gained by letting it be 
 seen plainly who and what he was ; what 
 master he meant to serve ; what he real- 
 ly believed, and meant to stand to. Had 
 he first waited to see what opinions 
 would be the most popular, and what 
 course of action the most approved, the 
 probability is that, like many others, 
 he would have lost his ground at start- 
 ing, and have never, perhaps, been able 
 to recover it afterwards. It is easy 
 enough, many will feel, to talk or write 
 of doing this ; but only those who have 
 made the effort know how hard it is to 
 enter alone among the ranks of the ene-
 
 204 MARK STEADMAN. 
 
 my, carrying the standard of the cross. 
 Yet it is n6t alone, for no faithful ser- 
 vant of Christ ever is alone: in this re- 
 spect the servant has an advantage over 
 the Master, for Christ fought that battle 
 alone which \ve fight by his side and 
 under his command. He came into the 
 world, dwelt in it, mixed among the 
 multitudes thronging the great highway 
 of life, and fulfilled his work in it, yet 
 was not of it; and he says to us, "As 
 the Father hath sent me into the world, 
 even so have I sent you."
 
 LIFE ILLUSTKATED SEEIES, 
 
 Helen Maurice. A narrative of every-day home lile^ 
 ITiree Engravings. 
 
 The Glen Cabin, or Away to the Hills. Exciting 
 scenes among the White mountains. With Cuts. 
 
 Dora Hamilton. The experience of a Merchant's daugh- 
 ter. Three Cuts. 
 
 Lilian. A tale of three hundred years ago. Four En- 
 gravings. 
 
 The Huguenots of France, or The Times of Henry IV, 
 Some of the most stirring incidents of history. With Cuts. 
 
 Evelyn Pereival. Highly interesting sketches and char- 
 acters drawn from life. Three Cuts. 
 
 Ilverton Kectory, or The Non-conformists of the Sev- 
 enteenth Century. Founded on fact. Four Engravings. 
 
 Allan Cameron. The eventful life of a Scottish clergy- 
 man's son, developing a character of rare beauty and noble- 
 ness under the moulding power of religion. Illustrated. 
 
 Walter Martin. Progress through obstacles to a posi- 
 tion of great usefulness. Three Cuts. 
 
 Clayton Allyn, or Learning Life's First Lessons. With 
 Engravings. 
 
 Save the Erring 1 , or The Gospel Purpose. A pleasing 
 and instructive Narrative. Three Cuts. 
 
 Effie Morrison, or The Family of Redbraes. A narra- 
 tive of truth. With Illustrations.
 
 2 
 
 The Weed with an Ill-name. Lessons from nature 
 impressed upon the heart. With Cuts. 
 
 Our Village in War-Time. Thrilling life-sketches, in- 
 culcating true patriotism and piety. Illustrated. 
 
 The Swiss Children. Welcome to the little exiles from 
 abroad. Two Cuts. 
 
 The Missing 1 Boat. The perils of mischiet, and safely 
 oi true repentance. With Cuts. 
 
 Madeline. The history of a New England girl. Illus- 
 trated. 
 
 A Little More. The value of contentment. Two En- 
 gravings. 
 
 The Lighthouse-Boy. A moral lighthouse for boys. 
 
 May Coverley. The faithful young Dress-maker. Illus- 
 trated. 
 
 Abel Grey. Raised from poverty to be a distinguished 
 Musician. With Cuts. 
 
 Down in a Mine. Thrilling narratives of fact, illustrat- 
 ing the Coal-miner's mode of life, his dangers, and his 
 security. With Engravings. 
 
 The Happy Fireside. Pleasing glimpses of home lifo 
 in a model Christian household. With fine Cuts. 
 
 Kelly Nash. The boy who.' ' did n't think. " Illustrated. 
 
 Cheerily, Cheerily. An original American book, wor- 
 thy of a place in every family library. Three Cuts. 
 
 While They are With Us. A series of narratives show- 
 ing our duty to friends. With Engravings. 
 
 PUBLISHED AND FOB SALE BY 
 
 TtCE AMER-CCAK TRACT SQQBITY, 
 
 130 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK; 
 
 And for Sale at New England Brunch, 104 Washing- 
 ton-street, BOSTON; 1310 Chestnut-street. PHILA- 
 DELPHIA; 7 Custom-house place, CHICAGO ; and 
 in other cities and to\ us.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 lOm-ll, '50(2555)470
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000081997 9 
 
 PZ6