.ii.Ji 
 
 1 ',■• 
 
 -.Aa«Mi 
 
 
 ■' 
 
 VM 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 A = 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 Ai 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 ' : 
 
 1 
 
 
 X 
 
 \ 
 
 1;; 
 
 3 = 
 6 1 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 1 
 
 ^'> 
 
 2 = 
 
 3 1 
 
 -^ 
 
 F" 
 
 '^ 
 
 1 
 
 Sf/ ' 
 
 1; 
 
 9 i 
 
 
 »S 
 
 ^- 
 
 1 
 
 %-. 
 
 S^. 
 
 mmimmmmm 
 
 mmmmmmmtf 
 
 ^ 
 
 gecccjg; 
 
 fe««e 
 
 
 7- 
 
 i. 
 
 K5KL_i 
 
 'f California ,. 
 
 Regional 
 
 Facility 
 
 kiC- 
 
 r-^. 
 
 ii:u 
 
 Our FATHER'S Hoos^:- 
 
 
 
 il^^i"! 
 
 / ^ 
 
 I lliWI HIM 
 
 '■■it m ail ^ ]w i ij i i »' .j»wi. ii ,u»,w«w.< w iiy aiigw
 
 -* > 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 

 
 ^f^OLD j^AST BY YoUR SuNDAYS.
 
 
 
 t 
 
 "Do VOU KNOW, HarKV, I DATE ALL MY TROfDLES AND VEXATIOKS FROM 
 THAT WRETCHED St'NDAY. AlL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS; AND SOME- 
 HOW EVERYTHING HAS CONE WRONG WITH ME SINCE." 
 
 Page loo-ioi.
 
 err- 
 
 ■-tD 
 
 ij;OLD if&ST 
 
 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 BY 
 
 X 
 
 ?rOUPx ^UIIDIYS. 
 
 /.*=»■» 
 
 CN^^ 
 
 >v, 
 
 \^o^ 
 
 »»' 
 
 VO' 
 
 "■ • ! 
 
 ,*^-^- 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "DEEPDALE VICARAGE," "MARGARET'S CHOICE," ETC. 
 
 With Tnti\oductory Note 
 
 REV. CHARLES BULLOCK, B.D., formerly Rector of St. Nicholas', 
 Worcester ; Editor of "Home Words," etc 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ILonlJon: 
 
 "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, PATERNOSTER SQUARE, E.C.
 
 BiTr,T.E & Tanneh, 
 
 The Sri.wood riuNTixG Woeks, 
 
 FuoME, AND London.
 
 TK 
 
 DctiirntrtJ 
 
 / 6^ i 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 The Earl of Shaftesbury, K.p. 
 
 "the working man's friend," 
 
 who so nobly vindicated not only 
 
 THE RIGHTS OF LABOUR 
 
 BUT 
 
 THE SADDATH RIGHT OF REST. 
 
 c^^-S^^^- 
 
 ^-^■^^^ 
 
 1524re3
 
 BY THE REV. RICHARD WILTON, M.A., RECTOR OF LONDESBOROUGH, EAST 
 YOPKSIIIKE, AUTHOR OF "SUNGLEAMS : SONNETS AND RONDEAUX," ETl. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays ; let nothing have power 
 To take from God's children their birthright and dower, 
 The Rest-Day appointed in Eden's fair bower 
 Ere sin had yet clouded earth's glad morning hour. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays, the Sabbath of Rest, 
 God's solemn commandment from Sinai's crest, 
 When awed by the thunder, by darkness opprest. 
 Their sin and their weakness His people confcst. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays ; the Saviour arose 
 In triumph on Sunday, and scattered your foes, 
 His labours all ended, and borne all His woes. 
 That you might have pardon and faith's sweet repose. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays ; the Spirit came dpwn 
 On Sunday, and gave it a gladsome renown ; 
 On calm Christian Sabbaths no thunder-clouds frown ; 
 Grace, peace, and rejoicing are Sunday's bright crown. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays ; earth's business and care 
 In six weary work-days have more than their share ; 
 Then comes the blest Sabbath : of labour beware 
 Which steals from the Rest-Day to which you are heir. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays ; of pleasure take heed 
 Which seeks from God's worship your footsteps to lead : 
 Oh, pause, Sabbath-breaker, that flower is a weed 
 Which stings as you pluck it, and bears deadly seed. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays, the earnest and sign 
 Of "Rest" that "remaineth" in mansions Divine; 
 With streaks of Heaven's glory our Sabbaths now shine, 
 Some grapes they now yield us from Eshcol's rich vine. 
 
 Hold fast by your Sundays ; these happy Lord's-Days 
 On wings as o\ eagles your souls shall upraise. 
 While faith's joyful worship and hope's cheering lays 
 Ring in the grand Sabbath and thunders of praise ! 
 
 Frovt "Home Words."
 
 CONTENT^. 
 
 PACR 
 
 Introductory Note 9 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 "Hold Fast dv your Sundays!". .... 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 My New Place 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 "The May do, and the Will do" . . . .29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Motto Stared me in the Face . . . .34 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Office of the Good SiiF.riiERD . . . .39 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Ruth Comes Back Alone 43 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Something Unexpected Happens. . * , .47 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Voice was that of my Old Acquaintance . 51 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Gold and the Dross 56
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. ''AGB 
 
 To-morrow is the Day 6i 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 An Order ! the Word had a Welcome Sound . 66 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 I looked again at the Motto i .... 71 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 •'•A Good Example is worth following" . . , 76 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 More Changes Still 80 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Sunny Spot in my Life 86 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Two Weddings 92 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 "What has the Sabbath-breaker Gained?" .. . 99 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The Watchword of my Family . , . , .106 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The Wanderer's Return .112 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 A Sunday Never to be Forgotten . . . .118 
 
 f3:j'
 
 
 Ijstroductory JioTE, 
 
 ^jJ,,OLD Fast ly your Sundays 
 originally appeared as a Serial 
 Tale in " HOME WORDS." 
 Its gifted Author has since ceased 
 from earthly labours, and entered 
 into the Sabbath rest and joy of 
 the Master's Home above. The entrusted talent had 
 long been employed for good and noble ends : and 
 "godly living" issued in "blissful dying." "Heaven 
 now! Heaven now!" were parting words upon 
 the failing lips. 
 
 During the period of its serial publication, the Tale 
 gained universal commendation : and, as the Editor 
 of " Home Words," I have not been surprised by 
 the repeated requests which have been urged for its 
 separate publication. 
 
 In yielding to these requests I may add, the late 
 Earl of Shaftesbury most readily evinced his appre-
 
 lo HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 ciation of the Talc by allowing it to be dedicated to 
 himself. 
 
 Lord Shaftesbury well earned the title of TilE 
 Working Man's Friend ; and he bore no title 
 which reflected greater honour on his noble character. 
 No one ever did more than his lordship to vindicate 
 the Rights of LABOUR ; and it is almost needless to 
 say he was ever equally ready to assert and maintain 
 the Right of SUNDAY REST : — to use his own ex- 
 pressive and exhaustive words, — "the full, absolute, 
 unqualified, and unconditional enjoyment by the 
 working classes of one day in seven for the high and 
 holy purposes for which the Day was set apart." 
 
 I feel that I could not better commend " HOLD 
 Fast by your Sundays" to the hearty reception of 
 my working friends, than by quoting the following 
 extract from a speech delivered some years since by 
 Lord Shaftesbury in the City Hall, Glasgow, to a 
 crowded assembly of the members of " The Glasgow 
 Working Men's Sabbath Protection Association." 
 His lordship said : — 
 
 " Well did one of your countrymen call this * The 
 Pearl of Days.' As the Pearl of Days let it be 
 precious to you — the single goodly pearl of all the 
 pearls you could seek on earth. (Applause.) 
 
 " I am glad to see you, free, honest, and indepcn* 
 dent citizens, rising to the assertion of the exercise 
 of your political rights ; it is constitutional ; it gives 
 hope of the country in which we live. But if you rise 
 to the assertion of your political rights, how trumpery, 
 how mean, how unworthy of consideration are they 
 when compared with those rights which assert the
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. II 
 
 sanctity of the Lord's Day ! You may busy your- 
 selves on weekdays in your works of industry ; you 
 may busy yourselves in your political assemblies, or 
 in regard to the exercise of the suffrage and the tone 
 of the men who should represent you in Parliament ; 
 but Task you, What are these rights compared with 
 the right that you assert, to have this great and sacred 
 Day exclusively your own, for the contemplation of 
 God's Holy Word, for waiting upon Ilim in worship, 
 for repairing all the wear and tear of the mind and 
 body in the work that is prescribed, for refreshing 
 yourselves for future toil, but, above all things, pre- 
 paring yourselves, through the all-redeeming blood 
 of the Saviour, for a blessed immortality? These are 
 the great rights for you to maintain ; these are the 
 great rights that raise you to the full sense of your 
 responsibility to God and man. 
 
 " I have read an article in one of your local papers 
 to-day. I do not complain of its tone, on the contrary 
 I took it as rather friendly than otherwise ; but it 
 speaks as if you had called me down here, and I had 
 come in the most willing manner, for the purpose of 
 putting some restriction upon the ordinary pleasures 
 you enjoy. Above all, the writer went out of his 
 way to say that it was to limit the poor people in 
 their walks on the Sabbath Day. Now I look upon 
 the Sabbath Day as a day of holy, physical, and 
 mental recreation ; I look upon it as a day of which 
 you must devote a good part to the worship and 
 service of Almighty God (hear, hear) ; but I look 
 upon it as a day that you may devote to family 
 affections, to man}' family duties, to social intercourse,
 
 12 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUA'DAYS. 
 
 to many little innocent enjoyments ; and if there is 
 anything on the face of the earth that to my mind 
 is more beautiful than another, it is to see on the 
 Sabbath Day, under the bright sun and on a glowing 
 evening, the working-man with his wife on his arm 
 and his children behind him, all enjoying themselves 
 under the open canopy of heaven. (Loud applause.) 
 
 " I ask you now to look at this picture, — I know 
 we have it in London, and I hope you have it here in 
 Glasgow, — Donald going out on the Sunday evening 
 with his Jeannie upon his arm, nice and neat in her 
 cap and kirtle, and all the bairns round about en- 
 joying themselves. Then they go home; then they 
 read a chapter of the Word of God ; then they join 
 in the common prayer, then they retire to bed ; and 
 Donald rises next day and resumes his working 
 clothes full of confidence and joy, because he knows 
 he has spent well the Sabbath, and that God will be 
 with him for the ensuing week. (Applause.) 
 
 " It is impossible, for those who will be candid 
 enough to admit the truth, not to see and confess the 
 wisdom of the institution of the Sabbath. A rest of 
 one day in seven is so necessary, so true, and so wise, 
 that it could not possibly have sprung from any 
 human origin, but must have come down as a 
 revelation, as an ordinance from heaven. (Applause.) 
 Those who are most engaged in works of toil, whether 
 it be of the brain or of the hand, call out for repose ; 
 and if it be felt that rest is necessary to the human 
 mind and the human body, I ask you if there ever 
 was a period in the history of the world, in the history 
 of this nation, when it was more necessary than at
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 13 
 
 the present moment? (Applause.) Is it not an 
 observation of every one, that wc arc hvinj with 
 immense rapidity ? Is it not an observation of every 
 one, tii'at wc arc crowding into the year the events of 
 a century ? Everybody knows that in the days in 
 whicli we hvc the moral system, the intellectual 
 system, is more greatly disturbed than ever, owing to 
 the wild competition in every department of trade 
 and art in which men's minds are so busily engaged. 
 Therefore it is important that we should be more 
 than ever circumspect in attending to God's great 
 ordinance, and give up exclusively to Ilim, without 
 let, or hindrance, or restraint, the whole of that 
 blessed Day, apart from the toil of the mind and of 
 the body, 
 
 "We do not want to impose upon others any 
 ascetic observance ; only we do not choose to be 
 deprived of that privilege ourselves. We are not 
 called by any Act of Parliament to attend places of 
 worship ; but we say, ' You shall not do anything on 
 your part that shall prevent any working-man from 
 attending a place of worship.' (Applause.) It is for 
 working-men to maintain their right to the Sabbath 
 for themselves ; and that right the law of the land 
 has established. But I wish to impress this upon 
 you : Do not trust only to the law. What I want is, 
 that working-men should create a sound, healthy, 
 and strong public opinion (hear, hear) ; and if we 
 once get public opinion to prevail in our land, we 
 shall succeed in making a true and God-fearing, 
 Sabbath-keeping population. 
 
 " Let me add, I have the greatest possible attach-
 
 14 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 mcnt, almost next to the observance of the Sabbath 
 itself, to the Saturday half-holiday, to which I cannot 
 help thinking a species of sanctity attaches. (Hear, 
 hear.) I think the Saturday half- holiday ought to 
 be given to all classes, because I believe it would be 
 one of the best means of securing the full, free, and 
 decent observance of the Lord's Day." (Applause.) 
 
 The working-men of England will know how to 
 appreciate these earnest and eloquent words of faith- 
 ful counsel ; and the respose in many a God-fearing 
 reader's breast will be a renewed resolve to 
 
 Hold Fast by our Sundays. 
 
 T/ie Editor of " HOME Words. ** 
 
 CoowritJi, BoiirncinontJi. 
 Alt gust, 1889.
 
 Life's jSayings j3ank. 
 
 The Sabbath is God's special present to ihe working 
 man ; and one of its chief objects is to prolong his hfe, 
 and to preserve efficient iiis working tone. It replenishes 
 the spirits, the elasticity, and vigour, which the last six 
 days have drained away, and supplies the force which is 
 to fdl the six days succeeding. In the economy of life it 
 answers the same purpose as in tlic economy of income 
 is answered by a Savings Bank. 
 
 The frugal man who puts aside a pound to-day, and 
 another pound next month, and who, in a quiet way, is 
 always putting by his stated pound from time to time, 
 when he grows old and frail, not only gets the same 
 pound back again, but a good many pounds beside. 
 And the conscientious man, who husbands one day of 
 existence every week ; who, instead of allowing the Sab- 
 bath to be trampled and torn in the hurry and scramble 
 of life, treasures it devoutly up, the Lord of the Sabbath 
 keeps it for him, and in length of days, and a hale old 
 age, gives it back with usury. 
 
 The Savings Bank of human existence is the weekly 
 Sabbath.— A 'b;/'/^ Brilish Rrvicxu.
 
 Our Father's House 
 
 B 
 
 Blest day of God, most calm, most bright, 
 
 The first and best of days ; 
 The labourer's rest, the saint's delight, 
 A day of joy and praise. 
 
 The first-fruits do a blessing prove 
 To all the sheaves behind , 
 
 And they that do a Sabbath love, 
 A happy week shall find. — Mason 
 
 -4
 
 YoUf^ ^UJNDAY^. 
 
 >nci« 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS!" 
 
 
 /^■r- 
 
 ^>2 Y father uttered these words one 
 Sabbath evening, many years ago. 
 I can scarce tell how many. I 
 was a mere lad then, and Hfc lay 
 all before me in a kind of golden 
 halo, such as never appears but 
 once, and that is in the days of our youth. 
 
 My life had been a happy one : I cannot, up to 
 this period, recall any sorrow of much magnitude. 
 We were working people, and from Monday morning 
 till Saturday night we kept strict count of the words, 
 " Six days shalt thou labour." My father had been 
 
 X7 B
 
 i8 HOLD FAST DY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 in the employ of the squire of the parish ever since I 
 could remember, and long before that. At the close 
 of every week, he came home with his honest earnings, 
 and put them into my mother's hands, to be appro- 
 priated to the use of the family. 
 
 It was astonishing how far the earnings went. 
 Two household friends, named thrift and economy, 
 would spin them out to the last farthing. My mother 
 was a capital manager. Neither head nor hands were 
 ever idle. Within the home, all things were kept 
 clean and bright ; " Cleanliness," she used to say, " is 
 the luxury of the poor." And we had good food and 
 clothing, and many little comforts besides, which 
 were unknown to those of our neighbours whose 
 affairs were not managed with the same prudence 
 and skill, and who would drop their earnings into the 
 pocket of the landlord of the inn, instead of into their 
 own. 
 
 "This kind of privation is not sent by Providence," 
 my father would say, if ever the subject were referred 
 to. " The means of preventing it are bestowed upon 
 us. We have strong hands, if only we had willing 
 hearts. It comes of our own unruly wills and 
 passions." 
 
 And then, for he was a man deeply versed in holy 
 things, he would speak of the blessings of piety in 
 the home, and the safety and prosperity of those who 
 dwell under the shadow of the Almighty, and are 
 kept from all kind of evil. 
 
 I used to listen to him with reverence. It was a 
 teaching with which I had been familiar from my 
 childhood upwards, but I did not enter very deeply
 
 HOLD FAST DY YOUR SUNDAYS/ 19 
 
 into the matter. The root of it lay beyond the Hmit 
 of my experience. 
 
 Sunday was our happiest day. How well I can 
 remember it, and all the little incidents connected 
 with it ! It comes to me, through all these years, 
 with the freshness of yesterday. I can scent the old 
 woodbine that clung lovingly round the cottage porch, 
 and with its companion, a white rose, used to look, 
 in summer time, through the window. I can recall 
 the casement, with its muslin curtain, old and darned, 
 but spotless in its whiteness. I can see the clock in 
 the corner, and the well-polished table, with the best 
 tea-tray leaning against the wall ; and the row of 
 books^ my father's humble library, well worn with 
 use. And I can see the strip of garden, with its bed 
 01 sweet-williams and mignonette ; and the patch of 
 potatoes, and the row of peas, and the bee-hives 
 under the wall ; and the gate leading into a smooth 
 green meadow, over which we went to church ; and 
 the old, weather-beaten tower itself, peeping from 
 behind a clump of trees. 
 
 Sunday was essentially a holiday. Besides its 
 sacred character, and the deeper, holier rest, of which 
 I then knew but little, it came to us with a genial 
 smile. Our week-day work was done. ]\Iy father's 
 tools, — his spade, his fork, his hoe, the implements 
 with which he had toiled, day after day, tilling, 
 sowing, reaping, as it might happen, — were laid aside. 
 The horses in the meadow grazed contentedly, or 
 stood hanging their heads over the gate, secure from 
 harness. 
 
 The Sabbath-bells, as they chimed in the early
 
 20 HOLD FA^r BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 morning', li^id but one message. They seemed to say 
 "Rest! rest! rest!" 
 
 In these days I cared little for rest. I was active, 
 and had all the restlessness of youth. My limbs 
 never tired, my head never ached. 1 was full of the 
 busy schemes and plans of boyhood. But I loved 
 these happy Sundays. The memory of them is 
 precious to me now, though the snows of age have 
 fallen thickly on my head, and I am approaching, 
 through God's mercy, another Sabbath, far away 
 from here ! 
 
 The period when my story begins, was an eventful 
 one. It was the last Sunday at my old home. I 
 was about to go into the world, and fill up my humble 
 place amid its busy scenes. My father had resolved 
 to give mc a trade, and he had bound me apprentice 
 to an upholsterer in the next market town. It was a 
 very subordinate position to begin with. I was to 
 run errands, and make myself useful in any way that 
 might be required. But this was supposed to lead to 
 better things. 
 
 "If the lad works well, and is steady, we shall soon 
 push him on," was the promise held out by my em- 
 ployer. 
 
 So, on the morrow, these new scenes were to dawn 
 upon me. I was to be ushered into a new sphere. 
 
 I liked the thoughts of the change ; — what lad of 
 fourteen would not ? The town, with its bustling 
 streets and gay shop-windows, had long been regarded 
 with a beating heart. That roseate hue I spoke of 
 rested on the new stretch of life's journey, and gave 
 it a fictitious charm. The uphill work, the cares,, the
 
 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS! 21 
 
 snares, the pitfalls, with which life abounds, lay 
 hidden. One by one, I have come upon them since. 
 I have seen the halo flee as I approached, and the 
 bare • rugged path lie steep before me, reaching I 
 knew not whilher. 
 
 But at the time of which I speak, it was not so : 
 my knowledge had not come ; the lesson was not 
 taught. 
 
 My father was well acquainted with life. He knew 
 by experience where danger lurked and where safety 
 was to be found. And he put before me certain 
 places of refuge, certain towers of strength, when he 
 said, — 
 
 " Hold fast by your Sundays ! " 
 
 The day was almost over when he said it. We 
 had attended our evening service, and my father was 
 sitting at the window, the open Bible on his knee. 
 He had been reading until the twilight closed in 
 around us, and then, as was our custom, we had sung 
 a hymn. 
 
 " Lord, we Thy people hail the Day 
 Which breathes of peace and love, 
 Which bids our toils and cares away. 
 And tells of rest above. 
 
 We love the soothing Sabbath bell ; 
 
 We love the House of Prayer ; 
 Sweet thoughts and hopes within us swell, 
 
 While we are gathered there. 
 
 £>^ 
 
 Lord, for Thy Day we bless Thy Name,— 
 
 Thy law hath made it sure ; 
 It stands from age to age the same,— 
 
 The birthright of the poor.
 
 22 HOLD FAST HY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 Oh may tl".csc firstfruits of our lime, 
 
 These Sabbath seasons, be 
 Bright steps up which our souls may climb, 
 
 Till they are safe with Thee ! " 
 
 My mother joined in our simple melody, but I fcdr 
 her thoughts wandered from it. She was about to 
 part with her son, and there was a touch of sadness 
 on her spirit, I could see her wipe away a tear that 
 now and then trickled down her check ; and when I 
 had retired to rest, she came to my bedside and, 
 stooping over me, kissed me. 
 
 " Haivy," she whispered, " be sure you remember 
 what your father says about the Sunday." 
 
 "That I will, mother," I replied confidently. 
 
 " Make no vows in your own strength," she said, 
 "for it is just weakness. But pray to God to help 
 you and keep you in the right way. There is more 
 in the Sunday than you think." 
 
 The words were but partially understood, though 
 I thought of them many times. It was the outer 
 sanctuary in which I had a dwelling : the veil had 
 not been lifted from the Holy Place within. 
 
 \^ 

 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 ^l^^l^x l-im MY NEW PLACE. 
 
 ■^5if^^'?^/^' ^^^' II''^i''y> l^ccp close bcliind me. 
 '^" Tliis is the way to your new 
 
 ^^il%/\^"„ As my father spoke, ahnost be- 
 
 fore he had time to utter the 
 words, I had alighted from the 
 carrier's cart, our humble con- 
 veyance, and was standing looking about me. The 
 journey had seemed very tedious, and the stoppages 
 endless, as we had passed through the villages. But 
 time and patience last out many things, and here we 
 were. 
 
 My new place ! I see it now. A shop in a crowded 
 thoroughfare, piled with upholsterers' goods, with 
 chairs, tables, and sofas, some of them bulging out on 
 the pavement ; and a narrow gangway left between 
 the goods, so narrow, that oy father and I could but 
 just squeeze ourselves along, one behind the other, on 
 our way down the shop. And a great barn-like place 
 at the back, called the " workshop," that we could see
 
 24 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 into, and that was full of chairs and tables in the 
 process of being made, some legless and armless, and 
 some of them mere rough blocks of wood. 
 
 A lad, of my own age, was in the shop, and came 
 forward to receive us. He was as spruce and dapper 
 as I was homely and countrified. There was a great 
 looking-glass just opposite, in which both our figures 
 could be seen, and mine did not gain much by the 
 contrast. And he had a readiness of speech too that 
 I did not possess. In a few minutes he had told us 
 that he was leaving that very day, to go to a grand 
 new shop in the market-place, and that he had been 
 living here six months, and that I was to fill his 
 place, and many other things beside ; to which my 
 father seemed to pay but little attention. 
 
 As for me, I rather took to the lad from the first, 
 and felt sorry he was going. 
 
 Presently my new master came out, — a little wiry 
 man, with a certain briskness and activity about him 
 that I liked ; for I was used to brisk stirring ways at 
 home. " Never let the grass grow under your feet," 
 " Make hay while the sun shines," and many such- 
 like proverbs, were frequent sayings of my father. 
 "If God gives us rest on the Sabbath," he would 
 argue, "it is a stringent command, 'Six days shalt 
 thou labour.' And labour," he would go on to say, 
 *' is a blessing, Harry, not a curse ; health, wealth, 
 and peace are hers ; the seed-time and the harvest, 
 the basket and the store. It is through idleness of 
 the hands that the house droppeth through ; for idle- 
 ness neither sows nor reaps, has neither storehouse 
 nor barn."
 
 Jl/V NtlV PLACE, 25 
 
 While my father and my new master went forward 
 into a little room behind the shop, talking, I suppose, 
 about myself, we young ones lagged behind. I waited 
 to look about mc, and I liked to hear what the 
 talkative lad had to say about the new place I had 
 come into. 
 
 There was no need to ask many questions : he 
 talked on with a glibness that was surprising. He 
 contrived, in the few minutes we were together, to 
 tell me that this was the worst end of the town, and 
 the place to which he was going the best ; that this 
 shop was "a poky affair," but his shop was the 
 grandest in the town ; that I should find myself 
 "cooped up" and "precious dull ;" that there was a 
 park at the other end, and a river wilh lots of boats 
 on it ; and his speech was garnished with many slang 
 terms that I did not understand. On the whole, 
 however, I liked him, and was rather flattered by the 
 interest he seemed to take in me. 
 
 My village companions were very humdrum sort of 
 lads compared to this one. And he might be my 
 companion, even though we were not under the same 
 roof. 
 
 But in spite of my liking for him, it must be con- 
 fessed that there were points about my new friend 
 that I felt were rather questionable. When he asked 
 where I should go on the Sunday, and I told him to 
 the parish church, he laughed, and said he did not 
 mean that. I could not find out what he did mean, 
 for at that moment out came my father. 
 
 " Now, Marry," he said, briskly, " I have settled all 
 about you : this is your new master.'
 
 26 HOLD FAST DY /OUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 I made the kind of bow I used to do at home, in 
 presence of a superior. Then I looked up into his 
 face. It was rather a careworn face, I thought, and 
 belonged to a person that I feared was hard to please. 
 But Mr. Gibson (that was his name) was an old 
 friend of my father's, and I knew that he must be 
 the right sort of man. I had full confidence in my 
 father as regarded everything. 
 
 And yet, how was it that the words "cooped up," 
 "dull kind of place," "queerish chap," and many such 
 expressions came unpleasantly to my mind ? I did 
 not entertain them ; mdeed, there was no chance 
 just then. My father had some errands to do, and 
 nothing was more delightful than his proposal that 
 I should go with him. 
 
 A brisk walk through the town on a sunshiny day 
 — could anything be better .'' There were the shops — 
 the market-place — the great broad handsome streets 
 — the beautiful sparkling river — the park, filled with 
 gaily-drcssed people, who looked as if taking a 
 holiday. Everything was novel and delightful ; and 
 I was to stay here — to live among these grand new 
 things always ! 
 
 When we came back, it did strike me that our 
 shop, as I had already begun to call it, was in the 
 worst part of the town. The streets were very nar- 
 row, and the pavement bad, and the general aspect of 
 the place inferior. Again I remembered my new 
 friend's remarks, and I felt a trifle disappointed. I 
 had seen his shop in the market-place, and admired, 
 as we passed, the curtains and mirrors and grand 
 ornaments, far beyond what our place could boast.
 
 MV NEW PLACE. 27 
 
 And I felt a Iwiiv^c of envy. I had hoped, on our 
 return, for a little further conversation ; but my now 
 friend was gone. 
 
 Nobody was at home now but my master and a 
 comfortable-looking person, his housekeeper, who was 
 also his niece ; for my master had lost his wife many 
 years ago. 
 
 Ruth was the name of the housekeeper ; and she 
 took me upstairs to show me my room, a tiny closet 
 of a place in the attic, but very clean and snug. My 
 box stood under the window, as if it had already 
 taken possession. I could see nothing from the 
 window but chimney-tops and smoke. 
 
 We had dinner when I got downstairs ; and then 
 my father said it was time to go, and I walked with 
 him to the carrier's cart, and bade him good-bye. 
 
 "Now, Harry," he said, "you have your future 
 prospects in your own hands, lad. There is a good 
 old proverb, that ' God helps those who help them- 
 selves.' And, Harry," he added, a minute later, as we 
 stood in a quiet place apart from the busy crowd, and 
 while the carrier was putting in his horse, " be sure 
 you pray that God will keep you from temptation, 
 A big town, like this, is a dangerous place for a lad, 
 unless he is in God's keeping. But he'll be safe 
 enough then." 
 
 " I will pray," I said, all the pious influences of my 
 early years coming upon me, and standing, as they 
 often do, in the place ol" a surer restraint ; " I will 
 strive." 
 
 " That's right ! and God bless you ! " 
 
 1 felt his hand on my head a moment, and then it
 
 28 
 
 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 was drawn hastily over his eyes. After that, we 
 parted. The carrier's horse set off at its usual jog- 
 trot pace, and I was left alone. I had fairly started 
 in life, 
 
 I walked briskly back to my new home, which was 
 in the next street, I hardly knew for the moment, 
 whether I was glad or sorry : whether I felt most 
 inclined to laugh or to cry. At any rate, I looked 
 about, in a wistful sort of way, for my new friend. 
 The sight of his merry face, I thought, would have 
 done me good. But it was not to be seen.
 
 >^"r^ 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "THE Af.iY DO, AND THE IIV/.L DO." 
 
 SOON found out the reason why my 
 father had placed me whh Mr. Gibson. 
 
 Andrew Gibson, as he was called by 
 his employers, was the best and most 
 finished workman in the town. The 
 articles of furniture supplied by him were 
 said by a well-known figure of speech, 
 to " last for ever." 
 
 He was a capital man of business. " Business," he 
 used to say, " has two hands and two feet. Civility 
 and attention are the hands, diligence and perse- 
 verance the feet." 
 
 There is a " may do," and a " will do," he used also 
 to sa}', as wc plied our tasks. The " may do " can 
 shuffle lamely by in a crowd, and so contrive to pass ; 
 but the " will do" looks you in the face like an honest 
 man. 
 
 I made up my mind from the beginning to strive 
 after the "will do." I wanted to learn my trade well.
 
 30 tJOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 and be a good workman and a useful member of 
 society. These were my first and fairest intentions. 
 
 I led a happy life, though the days went with the 
 regularity of clock-work. I rose with the lark, and 
 used to be in the workshop whistling merrily, and as 
 busy as a bee. 
 
 " Take time by the forelock," was another of my 
 master's sayings. " It is of no use trying to catch 
 him. He goes like the wind when once he has 
 started." 
 
 My master's establishment was a small one. He 
 employed no more hands than were needed, and 
 nothing was for show, but all for use. In the work- 
 shop were some half-dozen men, who went home to 
 eat and to sleep. And within doors there was Ruth. 
 
 Ruth made us very comfortable. The room in 
 which we lived was plain as could be, but it was 
 clean and neat, and the meals were served with the 
 quietness and regularity of my own home. My 
 master, Ruth, and myself, composed the family circle, 
 and we began to feel as if knit together by a closer 
 bond than that of interest. My master treated me 
 more like a son than an apprentice. 
 
 " I had a son once," he said to me, one day, "just 
 such a lad as you are ; but he has left me." 
 
 I asked Ruth what was the meaning of this speech ; 
 and she told me that the lad was not dead, as I had 
 supposed, but had run away to sea, and nobody had 
 heard of him since. 
 
 I thought of this many times, when my master was 
 grave and silent, as he would be by fits and starts. 
 I fancied he was grieving for his son.
 
 ''THE MAY DO, AND THE WILL DO." 31 
 
 We used to attend church on Sunday morning, all 
 three of us ; Ruth lockuic^ the door and taking the 
 key in her pocket. In fine weather, Ruth and I 
 would take an afternoon stroll into the fields, or into 
 some quiet lane, and my master would sit at home 
 reading. His legs, he said, were not so young as 
 they used to be ; and when we came back we often 
 found him asleep, with his handkerchief over his 
 head, and his glasses on the great book in wliicii he 
 had been reading. It was always the same book — 
 the Bible. 
 
 These were peaceful days, and it seemed an easy 
 injunction to " Hold i.xsi by my Sundays ; " but I was 
 yet all untried, and the hour of temptation had not 
 come. 
 
 One day, as I was going along the street on an 
 errand, I heard some one calling after me. 
 
 " What a hurry you are in ! " said a voice close to 
 my elbow — a voice I remembered to have heard 
 before. " What is it all about } " 
 
 I stopped. It was my acquaintance of the shop, 
 the sharp lad who had gained my favour the first day 
 of my arrival, but whom I had not seen since. 
 
 The sight of him brought back the old feeling of 
 liking. I held out my hand cordially. He was just 
 as lively as ever, and talked away as fast as possible. 
 " What had I been doing with myself? " " How did 
 I like my place .■• " And a hundred questions more. 
 And though I resisted a little, he would have me go 
 round the corner to look at Ais shop, and then farther 
 still, to have a peep at the river, all glittering in the 
 sun, and with pleasure boats sailing upon it. A little
 
 32 HOLD FAST DY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 way farther was the Park ; and a band was playing 
 merrily under the trees. But I steadfastly refused to 
 go another step. " I must go back," I said ; and I 
 did, running as fast as I could to make up for lost 
 time. 
 
 But the conversation that had taken place between 
 us, left a curious impression on my mind. The gaiety 
 and light-heartedness of my companion's manner, his 
 love of fun and of frolic, roused up something of the 
 -same sort in myself This was innocent enough, and 
 did me no harm. But the hints and speeches he 
 dropped, the allusion to pleasures I never had the 
 leisure to enjoy, and to a liberty I had never before 
 wanted, or felt to need, were neither good nor whole- 
 some. They were rather like drops of poison too 
 minute to be observed, but the result of which would 
 be felt. 
 
 When I got back from my errand, it struck me for 
 the first time that the place was dull and gloomy : 
 that my way of life was monotonous, and had not 
 sufficient variety ; that I was at work from morning 
 till night, and had not the enjoyments and pastimes 
 of other lads. INIany more such thoughts would have 
 crowded into my mind, but that occupation, and the 
 brisk polishing I was giving to a certain set of 
 drawers, caused them to flee away. By degrees, and 
 when my task was completed, I felt as happy and 
 as contented as ever. 
 
 But it chanced after a time, — and I must not dwell 
 too long on this part of my story,— it chanced that I 
 met Peter Clarke (for this was the name of my new 
 acquaintance) again and again. I never went out on
 
 " THE MA Y DO, AND THE WILL DO." 33 
 
 an errand, but his merry face was sure to meet me at 
 the corner of the street ; and by slow but dangerous 
 degrees we became very intimate indeed. I had 
 never been so taken with a companion before. He 
 could do almost everything ; and, as it seemed to me, 
 he knew almost everything. I thought he was the 
 cleverest lad I had ever met with in my life. 
 
 He had some friends — "a jolly set," he used to 
 call them, and by degrees I became acquainted with 
 every one of them. These stolen interviews took 
 place when I went on errands, or when I was left 
 in charge of the shop. 
 
 "It was not right," something told me. "These 
 lads were each of them in the employ of a master, 
 and it was his time which they were wasting." 
 
 Still the few merry minutes, the jest, the song, had 
 a kind of charm for me. When it was over, I was 
 sad and depressed in a manner unknown to me be- 
 fore. I was fretful too, and impatient. I lost by the 
 exchange, as people always do who give up right for 
 wrong, good for evil. And it was wrong, or why 
 should I have kept silence to those who had been my 
 best and kindest friends .-* Why did I say not a word 
 of these things to my master or to Ruth .''
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MOTTO STARED ME IN THE FACE. 
 
 iHE kind of life I was leading could 
 not be without its effect on me. Out- 
 ?i wardly, I went on pretty much as 
 usual ; but there Avere certain gaps 
 and breaks in my chain of duty. I 
 Avanted to "get out" more than I 
 used to do. The society of my master and of Ruth 
 had not excitement enough. I was always planning 
 how to see or speak to " my friends." 
 
 I did not care so much for my trade, or to be the 
 best workman in the place. I was longing rather for 
 a time when I could get those holidays and those 
 pleasures of which my companions were constantly 
 telling me : when I should have less work and more 
 play. 
 
 Many were the pit}'ing speeches made to me, and I 
 began to pity myself very much indeed. Yet in my 
 better moments, I was ashamed of myself. A healthy, 
 
 3*.
 
 THE MOTTO STARED ME IN THE FACE. 35 
 
 hearty lad, witli strong arms and a good trade and a 
 happy home : what more could I want ? 
 
 I , often had this kind of reflections as I passed 
 some shivering urchin in the street on a winter's day, 
 and I could not but recall the hymn — 
 
 " Not more tlian others I deserve, 
 Yet God has given me more." 
 
 At such times I would shake off my discontent, 
 and set myself to work with all my might. 
 
 But Winter was over now. Spring had come, and 
 with it came my first great temptation. 
 
 I had been gradually falling away. I had been 
 more and more won to my companions, and to their 
 ways of thinking and of acting. I had seen them at 
 all times when it was practicable. I had listened 
 eagerly to their schemes ; and when their great scheme 
 came to be disclosed, it did not shock me as miirht 
 liave been supposed. 
 
 Yet it was a plan for an excursion down the river 
 on a Sunday. There was something exciting in the 
 word "excursion." It was just what I had been 
 longing for, this beautiful Spring weather. I had 
 jiever been on the river but once. That once was a 
 holiday afternoon, and my master and Ruth and I 
 had made a merry little party on the water ; and we 
 went a long way down in a boat, and had tea at a 
 quiet inn by the water-side. I had never enjoyed 
 myself more in my life. But should I enjoy this trip, 
 and on a Sunday ? 
 
 The trip proposed would be very different from 
 that "slow affair," as Peter Clarke called it. There
 
 36 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 was to be a party of six, and we were to stop, not at 
 the quiet inn, but at some tea-gardens lately opened, 
 and where a great deal of merriment was always 
 going on. 
 
 My father, I well knew, would have disapproved of 
 the scheme from beginning to end. But from the 
 point on which I stood, I had lost sight of my father, 
 and the pious home in which I dwelt. I saw, instead, 
 the gay flowing river, alive with holiday parties and 
 pleasure-seekers ; and my fancy depicted a scene of 
 enjoyment in which I was to take a part. 
 
 And on a Sjuiday ! 
 
 The difficulty in my mind was how to persuade my 
 master into letting me go. I did not mention this to 
 my companions, for I dreaded their gibes and jeers ; 
 but I thought it over as I walked back to the shop. 
 
 It was clear to me that if I told him the truth, it 
 would be the same thing as giving up my holiday. 
 But could I bring myself to tell a lie ? 
 
 I was still debating the point when I reached the 
 door of the shop. Ruth was looking out for me. 
 Her uncle, she said, was in the parlour, and wanted 
 to speak to me. 
 
 Ah ! that guilty conscience ! It needed but those 
 few words to make my face red and my heart beat 
 Had my master found out my scheme } And was 
 this the reason why he was waiting to speak to me ? 
 
 I went trembling into the room where my master 
 sat, his great ledger on the table before him. 
 
 " Harry," he said, "I find that I shall have to take a 
 journey. My only brother is dangerously ill, and has 
 sent for me. I shall have to set off in the morning."
 
 THE MOTTO STARED ME IN THE EACE. 37 
 
 The mornlnjT was Saturday. My licart, that had 
 failed me with fear, gave a great bound. I could 
 hardly tell wliy, but it seemed a relief — this news my 
 master had just told me. 
 
 " I must be back on Monday, in time for business," 
 he went on to say. " Ruth will go with me, but we 
 can trust you to keep house while we are away." 
 
 The unsuspecting smile made me wince as with 
 pain ; but I said nothing. 
 
 " You can attend the morning service, as usual," 
 continued my master; "but I would rather you kept 
 in the rest of the day. There is a great fair going to 
 be held, and many loose people have come into the 
 town. I should not like the place to be left." 
 
 "Very well," I said quietly. 
 
 He looked up at me \\ith the same unsuspecting 
 smile. 
 
 " It will be your turn next," he said kindly. " I 
 must spare you to go home for a Sunday, soon." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," I replied. 
 
 I had the handle of the door in my hand, and kept 
 twisting it round and round. I was anxious for the 
 conversation to come to an end ; and it did. My 
 master went back to his ledger, and I retired to the 
 shop. 
 
 I wondered what I should do. The more I thought 
 about it, the more ardently I desired the holiday ; 
 and after all, what could be more convenient ? Events 
 played into my hands. My master was going out of 
 the way, as it seemed, on purpose! 
 
 I can slip out, I argued to m3'sclf, and fasten 
 the doors behind me. No one will ever find out I
 
 38 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 have been, and there ivill Le no need to tell a lie 
 about it. 
 
 I did not stay to argue the case fairly out, or to 
 reflect on the good old saying, that " one sin leads to 
 another ; " or to discuss with myself how I should 
 face my master when he came back, having been 
 unfaithful to my trust. I did not care to dwell on 
 these things. I kept my secret very safe, and the 
 boys contrived to let me know the hour of starting, 
 and the place where we were to meet. 
 
 I got up earlier than usual on Sunday morning, 
 and laid out my best clothes and brushed my hat. 
 The house was very still, for my master and Ruth 
 were gone, and I had it all to myself. I was eager 
 and excited now the pleasure was so near. My hand 
 shook as I hunted to the bottom of my trunk in 
 search of something I wanted, tumbling everything 
 over in my impatience. The thing I wanted did not 
 come, but I got hold of a book my mother had put 
 in, and which I had never opened. As I tossed it 
 carelessly on one side, a marker fell out, and lay on 
 the floor just where I could not help but see it. The 
 marker was worked with coloured silk, no doubt by 
 my dear mother's own hands. The motto stared d^q 
 full in the face — 
 
 "Hold fast by your Sundays!" 

 
 U-s 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE OFFICE OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 
 
 PICKED up the marker, and sat down 
 > with it in my hand. If it had been 
 gifted with the power of speech, it could 
 not have appealed to me more forcibly. 
 Yes ; my mother had planned this little 
 gift, and put it there as a surprise. She 
 was a good needle-woman, and made gowns and 
 bonnets, in a plain way, for her neighbours : and she 
 was fond of making little ornaments like this. She 
 had worked a marker for the great Bible out of which 
 my father read every morning and night. But that 
 marker had a different motto. 
 
 It came before me in a moment — my dear happy 
 home — just at this very hour. The Sabbath sua 
 shining on the window, and the Sabbath bells 
 chiming ; and my father reading the Word of God, 
 and offering prayer, perhaps for me ! And his parting 
 words, repeated with such earnestness : " Hold fast 
 by your Sundays." 
 
 39
 
 40 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 Sunday, as he esteemed it, was not a day for idle 
 mirth and pleasure and feasting. What did it mean, 
 I wondered, as I sat on the edge of the bed — the 
 Sabbath kept as my father kept it ? It meant — and 
 conscience answered readily enough — it meant rest, — 
 not for the body only, but rest for the soul ; a period, 
 when we can commune with God, — a state akin to 
 one above, to the rest that remaincth for the people 
 of God. I had heard my father say as much many 
 times. 
 
 And where was I going, down this headlong path, 
 away from all that was pure and holy ? Where would 
 it lead me } 
 
 A cloud seemed to come over the gay river, with 
 its gladsome throng. The day's brightness was dim 
 and dead. I put the marker back into its place. It 
 was impossible, in the face of this silent rebuke, this 
 voice from home, to persist in my Sabbath excursion. 
 I had, in fact, given it up. 
 
 " Hold fast by your Sundays." I had done so as 
 far as outward observance went My place at church 
 had never been vacant, and, after some indistinct 
 fashion, I had been glad when they said unto me 
 " Let us go up to the house of the Lord." But what 
 of this present Sunday.^ Was I going to hold fast 
 by it ? As I took my solitary breakfast, I resolved 
 what I would do. I was penitent for my past mis- 
 conduct ; and though there was a lingering regret, as 
 the sunlight danced on the window and gave promise 
 of a glorious day, still I was firm. I would holdfast, 
 even by this Sunday. I would pass it as I should 
 have done if the temptation had never occurred.
 
 THE OFFICE OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 41 
 
 When the bells began their pleasant chime, I was 
 ready. I took my Prayer-Book in my hand, the very 
 marker placed within it, as though to keep me fnni, 
 and stepped quickly forward to church. 
 
 " The Lord is my Shepherd." 
 
 My mind had wandered during the prayers. I had 
 thought of my companions. They would not wait 
 for me — that I knew — and at this moment they were 
 in the full enjoyment of their holiday. I felt half- 
 inclined to repent that I was not with them ; but the 
 text, given out in a clear, distinct voice, arrested my 
 attention ; I began to listen. I was more struck by 
 that sermon than by any other I had ever heard. 
 One sentence applied to my own case, as though the 
 preacher knew what had happened to me. 
 
 "A word, a look, a text, will often stop a man 
 from doing what he knows is wrong ; and we arc apt 
 to say that tJiis has saved him. But did you never 
 think that, behind the word, or look, or text was One 
 who gave it point and effect ; One whose office it is 
 to call back Mis wandering sheep; even the ' Lord 
 our Shepherd ' ? " 
 
 I had been saved from doing wrong, I thought, as 
 I walked home, by a simple motto, brought suddenly 
 before me ; but what power could there be in those 
 few words to break through a settled purpose and 
 hinder me from sin ? 
 
 Might there not have been standing by, close to 
 me, though I knew it not. One who gave effect to the 
 words, — even the " Lord our Shepherd " ? 
 
 I was much softened as I recalled what had been 
 said of the love of Christ; of His seeking and saving
 
 4? HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 those that were lost ; of His tenderness hi gathering 
 the lambs in His arms, and carrying them in His 
 bosom ; and of the price He paid that sinners might 
 be brought home to God. All these things had been 
 dwelt upon in the sermon. 
 
 I was glad I had not joined the party on the river. 
 My companions had been to seek for me, for I found 
 a crumpled bit of paper pushed under the door. They 
 had waited half an hour, and they wanted me to come 
 after them. I threw the paper in the fire. The 
 whole affair had been one of those critical periods in 
 a life, when good and evil seem balanced by a single 
 hair ! 
 
 I did not find the day so lonely as I expected. I 
 read as much as I could, and I wrote a letter to my 
 father ; and then, I sat at the window and watched 
 the people go by to church, and listened to the bells. 
 
 When it grew dark, I closed the shutters and 
 lighted the gas. Just as I had done so, a party of 
 noisy revellers came down the street, and hammered 
 rudely at the door. I knew who they were, and that 
 my companions had returned from their excursion ; 
 and I knew also — and it gave me a shudder — that 
 some of them had passed the bounds of temperance. 
 This visit to me was nothing less than a drunken 
 frolic. I did not make any sign, but sat quite still in 
 my chair, and thanked God for His mercy in saving 
 me from a fate like this !
 
 -7-fl 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RUTH COMES BACK ALONE 
 
 ONDAY mornincT dawned, briijht 
 'j^ and clear. I shook off my sleep, 
 and sprang hastily up, just as the 
 • lyP 6#*^^ sun was gilding the tall chimneys 
 Hi^^%^ and peaked roofs opposite. I felt 
 cheerful as a lark. My mind was 
 vigorous, my body rested and refreshed. How should 
 I have been, I asked myself, if, instead of that quiet 
 Sabbath, I had spent the day upon the river? I 
 could picture the result — the weariness, the dread of 
 detection, the burden on the conscience, the downhill 
 course, one step of which had been taken. 
 
 It was worth anything to have this quiet con- 
 science, this sense of security, this fear of nothing. 
 
 I had never missed my morning prayer, though it 
 had often been hurried over ; but the Sabbath by 
 which I had been enabled to " hold fast," seemed 
 to have left a savour on my spirit. I knelt down and 
 prayed earnestly. 
 
 ♦3
 
 44 HOLD FAST DY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 There was a path — of which I had been taught 
 from my youth up — a path of safety and of blessed- 
 ness. I began to think that, with God's help, I would 
 endeavour to walk in it. Something was inclining 
 me to do so — something I had met with in the house 
 of God and carried away in my heart Was it the 
 good seed — the little leaven which would leaven the 
 whole lump .'' 
 
 One thing I resolved upon : I would get free from 
 my bad companions, and shake off both their advice 
 and their company. And I recalled a passage in the 
 Bible that applied to this very resolve : " My son, 
 if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." Another 
 thing I made up my mind to do : I would no longer 
 withhold my confidence from my master and from 
 Ruth. Though I should have to speak with shame 
 and confusion, I would tell them the whole story. 
 
 They would be home for breakfast, and I bustled 
 about to get everything ready. The men had come 
 to the workshop, and found " all right and tight," as 
 I heard one of them say. And when I had made my 
 little preparations indoors, I went into the shop and 
 began to polish up the furniture, whistling all the 
 time. The Sabbath rest seemed to have given me a 
 double measure of strength and vigour, " Perhaps it 
 is so," I thought, for my mind was still inclined to 
 dwell on the subject; and I recalled my dear mother's 
 words : " There is more in the Sunday than you 
 think." 
 
 When I heard the pony-trap, that my master used, 
 come rattling down the street, I ran out to meet it. 
 But only Ruth alighted at the door. She looked
 
 RUT II COMES BACK ALONE. 45 
 
 very sad, and told mc tliat the Sunday had been a 
 melancholy one for them, I\Iy master's brother was 
 getting, near his end ; and my master was staying 
 with him until all was over, and had sent Ruth home 
 by herself. 
 
 Their only comfort, she said, as she looked around 
 the room, and noticed what I had been doing — their 
 only comfort was in thinking that they had left the 
 place in good hands, for they both placed the utmost 
 confidence in mc. 
 
 I turned very red at this speech. 
 
 " Ruth,'' I said, " I have not been as you think 
 f have been wicked and deceitful ; and if it had not 
 been for the mercy of God in restraining me, I should 
 have fallen into open sin." 
 
 And, in answer to her look of surprise, I told her 
 all. 
 
 She listened attentively, and with an anxious ex- 
 pression on her kind face. As I finished, a tear 
 came into her eye. 
 
 "Ruth," I said, "you will never trust me again." 
 
 "Yes," was her reply, " I shall trust you; for I 
 think that God is dealing with you as He does 
 with many of His erring children. He follows them 
 in their wanderings, and brings them back to the 
 fold. Once there, Harry, the poor terrified sheep has 
 no more wish to stray." 
 
 And then, as we sat at breakfast, Ruth talked to 
 me as my own dear mother would have done. And 
 she told me that the sick relative she had just quitted 
 found the utmost solace hi religion ; and that, when 
 a lad of my age, he had been tempted to go astray.
 
 46 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 but God in His providence had stopped him ; and, 
 all through his after career, religion had been his 
 guide and his stay. 
 
 "And Harry," she said, earnestly, "if I v/ere you, 
 I would make up my mind, iiozu, at this very time, to 
 serve the Lord ; it will bring you greater happiness 
 than you ever imagined." 
 
 I thought over the words many times, and it 
 seemed as if some inward monitor kept pressing 
 them upon my mind. " It will be a happy choice," 
 whispered this unseen counsellor ; " you will be safe 
 in the keeping of an almighty Friend. Your sins will 
 be forgiven ; you will be led and guided to your life's 
 end ; and then, you will join the company of holy 
 men and angels above." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I am old now, as I said before, and my hair is 
 silver-grey ; but as I look back through the varied 
 Scenes, some of which I am about to recount, I know 
 that my first real impressions of religion date from 
 this very time, when I resolved, by God's grace, not 
 in letter only, but in spirit and in truth, to " hold fast 
 by my Sundays."
 
 
 .u-^\ 
 
 rV'JK 
 
 J*»- 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SOMETHING UNEXPECTED IIArPENS. 
 
 N clement of change lies at the root 
 
 of every step we take through this 
 
 changeful world. The lesson is soon 
 
 taught us ; and it goes on being 
 
 ■^^3^ repeated year by year, almost from 
 
 the cradle to the grave. 
 
 It was a lesson strongly brought 
 before me at this time. Instead of resuming our 
 usual routine, an unsettled period began. My master, 
 it is true, returned the next day, for business obliged 
 him to do so. But he soon started off again, and for 
 a short time there was nothing but hurried journeys 
 and anxious looking-out for tidings. 
 
 The invalid, contrary to all expectations, had some- 
 what rallied. There was not the slightest hope of 
 recovery, Ruth told me ; and it was a mere matter 
 of time as to how long the spark would go on 
 flickering ere it went out. 
 
 This unsettled period was fraught with much im- 
 portance to myself and my inner world. I have 
 
 47
 
 48 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 reason to believe, with gratitude and humility, that 
 I was under the teaching of God's Holy Spirit. I 
 found delight in prayer and in reading the Bible. I 
 would rise early and sit up late to do so. And the 
 Sabbath was looked forward to with eagerness, and 
 its sacred hours were precious to me in a way they 
 had never been before. Indeed, to express my 
 meaning in a few words, the things I once lightly 
 esteemed were all I now seemed to care for. 
 
 With this inner change came back the old desire to 
 excel in my trade. I worked with increasing diligence, 
 and tried in this timiC of anxiety to spare my iiiaster 
 all the trouble in my power. It was only natural 
 that this should be so ; for religion, as I have long 
 found out, must be a daily, practical thing, if it is to 
 do anything for us. 
 
 At last, the event we had been expecting took 
 place — suddenly, as such events often do in the end. 
 My master's brother died, and my master and Ruth 
 went away in a hurry, and stayed until after the 
 funeral. 
 
 It never occurred to me, as I put everything in 
 readiness for their return, that one change might 
 bring another. I hoped we should now at least go 
 back to our old peaceful days. But so it was not to 
 be. 
 
 One evening, when work was over, my master sent 
 for me. I had guessed that something was going on. 
 Indeed, it had been reported among the neighbours 
 that my master's brother had left some property 
 behind him, and that my master would be better off 
 in consequence. But beyond a casual speculation as
 
 SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 49 
 
 to wlicthcr he would use the money in new fronting 
 the shop or increasing his business, I had not thought 
 much, about it. 
 
 My master was seated by the table in the little 
 parlour, engaged, as it seemed to me, in writing 
 letters. lie pushed his desk aside as I came in. It 
 was time, lie said, to tell me what was going on, that 
 I might not be taken unawares. 
 
 " I am amply provided for now, Harry," he con- 
 tinued ; "and I have long wished to retire from 
 business. I am getting an old man, and infirmities 
 are coming fast upon mc. If my son," and here he 
 paused, "had been with me, I should perhaps have 
 retired sooner. At any rate, the- business would 
 have passed into his hands. As it is, it must go 
 to a stranger." 
 
 I had never thought of this. It seemed as if the 
 ground were breaking up under my feet. The hint of 
 such a thing was enough to make me more unsettled 
 than I had ever felt in my life. And yet I was to 
 remain in the old home, and go on the same as usual. 
 This was arranged in due course of time between my 
 father and my master. 
 
 " All you have to think of, Harry, is doing your 
 duty," said my father. 
 
 A purchaser was soon found, for the business was a 
 well-established and a thriving one ; and the arrange- 
 ments were made far too rapidly to suit my wishes. 
 I clung to my dear master and to Ruth, and I felt 
 the bitterness of separation would be great indeed. 
 They would not even remain in the town, where I 
 might nov/ and then have seen them. They intended, 
 
 D
 
 so HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 for the sake of Mr. Gibson's health, to Hve in the 
 country, 
 
 I was very sore at heart. To have all the furniture 
 carried away and the pleasant home broken up, was 
 almost more than I could bear. But, in the midst of 
 my trouble, it comforted me to think of "a P'riend 
 that sticketh closer than a brother." He would be 
 my Guide and my Stay. I could not be lonely or 
 forsaken while He was with me ! 
 
 Preparations for removal soon began. The old- 
 fashioned bureau, the eight-day clock that kept time 
 to a minute, my master's easy chair, and the little 
 table where Ruth sat at her work, were taken away ; 
 and in their place came other articles, smart and new, 
 but which I did not like nearly so well. Instead of 
 Ruth, there would be my new master's wife, who 
 seemed a much grander and more important person 
 than dear good Ruth had been. 
 
 As one part of the change, my own little attic 
 underwent a complete metamorphosis. 
 
 It was newly papered and better furnished. But 
 even this did not seem to content me. And when 
 all was finished, I hung up by the wall a copy I 
 had made of my dear mother's motto. I had done it 
 on paper, with coloured ink. I wanted at this new 
 period of my life to have the words always before 
 me, 
 
 "Hold fast by your Sundays."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE VOICE WAS THAT OF MY OLD ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 PETER CLARKE. 
 
 T was with a heavy heart that I stood 
 watching at the window one fine summer's 
 
 evening. My master and Ruth were 
 -j..,-^, ;.„- gone, and the last h'nk with the tranquil 
 r i^^^ life I had enjo}'ed so long was snapped 
 asunder. We had a sorrowful parting. 
 Ruth had wept outright, and my master's eye was 
 lim with a tear. Still they did their best to cheer 
 and encourage me. 
 
 "You will often come to see us, Harry," they said ; 
 "and you will always meet with a welcome." 
 
 I was very sad when they were gone. I had some 
 hours to myself, for my master and his wife were not 
 expected until dusk. And though the place had 
 been painted up, and new windows put into the shop, 
 and everything done to improve it that could be, the 
 very improvements seemed to make me feel more 
 strange and less at home. Besides, the new comers
 
 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 were entire strangers; I had scarcely exchanged a 
 word with them. 
 
 They were young people, smart and good-looking, 
 and what the neighbours cdiW^d pushing. Indeed, the 
 neighbours congratulated me on the change. 
 
 " Mr. Wilkins will do twice the business that 
 Andrew Gibson did," they said, speaking of my new 
 master. 
 
 There were speedily signs of the truth of this 
 remark. Tlie shop was filled with smart modern 
 furniture, much more showy in appearance than the 
 substantial articles it once contained. It is true that 
 the sniart things, as I shrewdly suspected from the 
 first, were not so good, but they pleased the eye, and 
 were much cheaper; and as a natural consequence, 
 more persons would come to buy them. 
 
 " In fact, the shop looks iike business now," said 
 a well-known voice that roused me from my fit of 
 musing. 
 
 I had not heard the voice for some time, but I 
 recognised it in a moment. It was that of my old 
 acquaintance, Peter Clarke. 
 
 We had not met for a long time, and I could not 
 but perceive that he was much altered. The spruce, 
 dapper appearance that took my fancy, was to a 
 certain degree gone. His health had evidently not 
 improved. His face was pale and thin, and had a 
 careworn expression, remarkable in one so young. 
 But he was as talkative and as boastful as ever. 
 
 He was not in the same place, he told me (passing 
 over the reasons he had for leaving it), but he had 
 got another quite as good, only not in that part of
 
 THE VOICE OF MY OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 55 
 
 the town. He intended to set up in business for 
 himself some day. His father had promised to help 
 him, and he should soon get to the top of the tree. 
 
 I listened to all this rattle with very different 
 feelings from what I had first experienced. His 
 ' looks seemed to belie his words, and I suspected 
 that in reality he was neither prosperous nor happy. 
 Indeed, I found out afterwards that his father liad 
 become too much impoverished, by the habits of his 
 son, to be in a position to fulfil his promise, if indeed 
 he ever made it. 
 
 At any rate, I could not hold my peace when he 
 alluded to the memorable day of the Sunday excursion, 
 and began to say how foolish I had been to shut 
 myself out from it,— that "youth was the time for 
 pleasure," — and that "we came into the world to 
 enjoy ourselves," — and such-like remarks. I could 
 not forbear asking him whether his real welfare, his 
 health, or his peace of mind, or even his worldly 
 position, was advantaged by these Sunday pleasures 
 in which he took so much delight } 
 
 "As to that," he said, but he hesitated a little, "as 
 to that, I lead a merry life enough, and if I get run 
 aground, and find myself at the last sixpence, I just 
 write to my mother, and she helps me through." 
 
 "But is it always convenient for her to help you 
 through ? " I asked. 
 
 " I know nothing about that ; " and he laughed. 
 "I know she keeps a hoard of money in an old 
 stocking in the corner cupboard ; I suppose she helps 
 me out of that." 
 
 " That hoard may not last very long," I said, for
 
 54 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 the idea of takincr it struck me as somethinGf like 
 
 o o 
 
 robbery ; " and you have often said that your mother's 
 health is failing." 
 
 " Oh, there is always something or other the matter 
 with her," he replied, carelessly; "but she is a good 
 mother, and would rather go without herself than let 
 me come to grief," 
 
 " If I were you," I said, earnestly, for I was pained 
 more and more, " I would not touch a farthing of the 
 money. I would begin to save, and have a stocking 
 of my own." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 
 
 " I never was stingy, like you ; and I must have 
 my holiday," he said. " Sunday was given us to do 
 as we like with ; all the lads say so." 
 
 " But is what the lads say to be set against what 
 the Bible tells us 1 " I asked. 
 
 "The Bible! Who thinks of troubling about the 
 Bible, at our time of day "i It is only for people who 
 have nothing else to do, — or, perhaps when one gets 
 old" 
 
 "No, Peter," I said; "the Bible is for you and for 
 me, — and for us Jioiv, when we have our way to make 
 in life, and to choose the good, and avoid the evil. 
 It may perhaps be too late when we are old and 
 hardened in sin." 
 
 " What a preacher you have become, Harry ! Well, 
 I am content as I am. I mean to have a precious 
 deal more fun before ever I turn religious ! And I 
 must be off and write to my mother if I am to catch 
 the post. Good day to you ! Good luck to you 
 with your new master ! "
 
 THE VOICE OF MY OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 55 
 
 So saying, he went whistling away as though he 
 were light of heart. But in reaHty his mirth was lil-x 
 the crackling of thorns. I learned afterwards that at 
 this very time he was in debt, and hardly knew which 
 way to turn, or what he should do, if his mother 
 refused to answer his letter. 
 
 How different would it have been if he had acted 
 on the advice often given to me by my good master ! 
 " Begin by saving, not by spending," he used to say ; 
 and he had even induced me to put some of my 
 earnings into the savings bank. " If you keep adding 
 to your hoard," he would continue, "you will find 
 that it keeps adding to you ; and, in the end, you 
 will get up the hill, instead of always remaining at 
 the bottom." 
 
 I had not time, however, to go much into this 
 question. The shrill whistle of the train was followed 
 by the sound of wheels, as the omnibus came rattling 
 down the street. My new master would be here 
 directly.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE GOLD AND THE DROSS. 
 
 F I had felt strange before, I felt doubly 
 so now. It is true that my master and 
 mistress were good-natured people, and 
 spoke kindly to me. But I could not 
 expect it to be the same as when I 
 welcomed back my dear old master and 
 Ruth. Then I was one of the family, and there was 
 as much to hear or to tell as if we had the same 
 interests and had been the nearest relations. Now, 
 after a few words of greeting had passed, I felt almost 
 like an intruder, and Avas glad to retire to the shop, 
 and busy myself there. I was sad at heart, and 
 thought the place would never be the same again. 
 
 But I fell back on one of my father's excellent 
 maxims : "All you have to do is your duty," he had 
 said, "and no harm can happen to you." "Besides," 
 I reflected, as I polished away vigorously, " I shall 
 soon feel at home with them. It only wants a little 
 
 56
 
 The cold and the dross. 57 
 
 time. Ill a week or two we may be the best friends 
 in the world." 
 
 It did not take long to be at home with my master. 
 He came after me into the shop, and bc^^an to look 
 about him, and to examine what he called, "the old 
 stock," much of which was left. And here it was 
 apparent from the beginning that his ideas and those 
 of Andrew Gibson differed. 
 
 "Ah," he said, scanning the chairs and tables, and 
 other articles, " they are not quite in my style. I 
 want something run up quick for sale." 
 
 I looked at him with surprise. 
 
 "Yes," he said, nodding good-naturedly; "that's 
 the kind of thing I want," and he pointed to a showy- 
 looking chiffonier, one of the new articles sent in. 
 "People don't care to lay out over much money in 
 furnishing ; they want something cheap and smart, 
 and which makes a show." 
 
 "That chiffonier would not wear more than a 
 couple of years," I replied, examining it with an eye 
 that was now somewhat practised ; " the wood is not 
 seasoned." 
 
 " Never mind, let them come again. They can 
 \)ave two pieces of furniture for what one of Andrew 
 Gibson's would cost." 
 
 This plan of selling cheap inferior goods did not 
 Suit my taste. It savoured too much of the ^' may 
 do," instead of the "tc/// do." However, it was no 
 business of mine to argue the point with my master. 
 I rather determined to exert myself more than ever, 
 and, as far as in me lay, turn out the goods* in a 
 better style. I could not endure the idea of the
 
 58 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 honest old business losing its character for producing 
 articles substantial and good ; and becoming noted 
 for what was only showy and pretentious. 
 
 And here I must pause to remark, that it was the 
 greatest blessing to me that I had become decided 
 for God. No other principles, but those based on the 
 religion of Jesus Christ, could have kept me steady 
 and firm in the difficult times that were coming. 
 Mere human strength would soon have given way, 
 and I should have drifted along with the stream. 
 
 I was anxious to know what kind of Sundays would 
 fall to my lot in these new days. Nothing could be 
 allowed to interfere with the deep and holy rest which 
 I began at this period to enjoy — a rest which gave 
 vigour to the whole man, quickened me in every 
 duty, and gilded the week with a mild and blessed 
 radiance. 
 
 But hitherto, the outward circumstances of the 
 Sabbath had been so happy. The bonds of Christian 
 fellowship had knit us together as in one heart and 
 one mind. The day was marked by order, quietness, 
 and regularity. I feared the opposite would be the 
 case, when I rose on Sunday morning, and there was 
 no symptom of any one stirring. It is true, the week 
 had been a busy one, and my master and mistress 
 had gone to rest fatigued. But no preparations had 
 been made for the Sabbath. There had lacked all 
 those allusions to it which had been so welcome; and 
 I had missed that short solemn prayer offered by 
 my dear master at the close of the week, and which 
 seemed to shut out the world, and cause the sacred 
 hours to begin before their time.
 
 THE GOLD AND THE DROSS. 59 
 
 Every moment I expected my mistress to appear ; 
 but she did not, and I partook of the solitary break- 
 fast, the bells ringing for church all the time. 
 
 J list as I was about to start, she came hurr}'ing 
 down. 
 
 " I am so sorry," she said good-naturedly. " I hope 
 you have had your breakfast. Of course it is too late 
 for Its to think of going to church." 
 
 " I am afraid it is," I replied, as I brushed my hat 
 and took up my Praycr-Book, 
 
 "Ah, well ; wc don't often go in a morning," she 
 resumed. " It's too much to expect from working 
 people. IVIy husband likes to lie and rest, and we 
 have a bit of a holiday. Shall you dine at liome, 
 Harry?" 
 
 " I always have done so," I replied, rather surprised 
 at the question. 
 
 She saw my perplexity, and hastened to say 
 kindly — 
 
 " I don't want to turn you out ; you must make 
 yourself quite at home with us. But I thought you 
 had friends in the town, and would perhaps like a 
 little pleasure on the Sunday." 
 
 It was very curious, I thought, as after some slight 
 answer I walked hurriedly to church, that such a 
 speech should be made to me. Thank God the 
 temptation was not put before me a year earlier ! I 
 should then have swum eagerly with the tide ; for 
 God had not revealed to me those higher pleasures 
 compared with which holiday-making on the Sunday 
 is a grievous toil. 
 
 These reflections returned to me as I sat and
 
 6o HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 listened to the preacher. He was one of those good 
 men who know how to bruig heavenly things forcibly 
 before the mind. The atonement of our Saviour, the 
 work of the spirit of God in the soul, the necessity of 
 leading a holy life, and the happiness of the world to 
 come, were themes of which his hearers never tired. 
 I make little pretence to education beyond the 
 simplest kind ; but it seems to me that if every 
 preacher were to do the same, and avoid, as a rule, 
 topics which plain men cannot understand, more 
 sinners might be converted to God, and believers 
 built up in their most holy faith. At any rate, these 
 sermons were to me like hidden manna, on which I 
 could feed through the busy toils of the week. 
 
 I was little inclined to exchange the inward peace 
 and satisfaction left by the Service for any other Mnd 
 of pleasure. And yet on my return, the very treat 
 I had once grasped at so eagerly was again offered. 
 This time it was only offered to be refused. I felt 
 not the slightest wish to join a party on the river ; I 
 preferred keeping house by myself, and reading my 
 Bible, and thinking over the topics which interested 
 me so deeply. 
 
 No thanks to myself that I w\is thus enabled to 
 refuse the evil and choose the good. The decision 
 arose simply from the grace and power of God 
 working in me, and opening my eyes to behold a 
 better portion. 
 
 Who would refuse the gold and choose the dross, if 
 he could rightly distinguish between them ?
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TO-MORROW IS THE DAY. 
 
 HE business which had been carried 
 on for nearly half a century by 
 Andrew Gibson had known but few 
 fluctuations. "Steady and sure" 
 might have been its motto. And 
 the custom lay among substantial 
 but rather old-fashioned persons, who had come 
 again and again, and their children after them. 
 
 All this was changed. I was not surprised to find 
 that by degrees our old customers left the shop. I 
 did all I could to keep them. I worked as though 
 the whole responsibility of the concern were upon my 
 shoulders. I was at my post early and late, for I 
 found to my regret that my master was not famous 
 for his attention to business. He w^as a careless, 
 good-tempered man, a merry companion, and sang a 
 capital song at a dinner or a supper. He had a great 
 deal of cleverness, but he lacked the steady perse- 
 verance which never fails to ensure success. 
 
 6i
 
 62 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 And the materials with which I had to do were 
 altogether of another class. Cheap fancy articles 
 were supplied that had no durability about them 
 They found plenty of customers. In place of our old 
 friends came many new faces. We sold the goods 
 as fast as they were made. There was no positive 
 deception in the matter. The price asked was low, 
 and could not be expected to insure the same amount 
 of wear. I ventured sometimes to expostulate, but 
 was met by the reply, always pleasantly spoken — 
 
 "We must go with the tide; people don't care for 
 that cumbrous style of furniture in these days. It 
 has been superseded." 
 
 Not in my opinion. Indeed I grew so dissatisfied, 
 that but for my attachment to the place, and my 
 desire to keep things together, I verily think I should 
 have gone away. But I could not bring my mind to 
 do so, and I went on striving and struggling, month 
 after month, and as it happened, year after year. 
 
 I very soon found out that everything depended 
 upon me. My master was rarely up when the shop 
 was opened in the morning ; and the vigilant eye so 
 necessary in a house of business, was, as far as he was 
 concerned, wanting. He would trust all to his work- 
 people, and as a natural consequence, they took 
 advantage. Indeed, as time passed away, I began to 
 fear that if this state of things went on, in spite of 
 our brisk trade, we should come to ruin. 
 
 Within the house it was not much better. No one 
 could be more good-natured than my mistress, and 
 the house was better furnished, and the meals more 
 abundant ; but the cleanliness and order and quiet,
 
 TO-MORROW IS THE DAY. 63 
 
 that once made the charm of my daily Hfc, were 
 absent. My mistress was fond of dress and company, 
 and though she had a wish to do her duty, the habit 
 of steady careful industry v/as lacking. "Take care 
 of the pence, and the pounds will take care of them- 
 selves," was a motto little regarded either by herself or 
 her husband. Indeed, I felt sure that in spite of out- 
 ward show, and an appearance of prosperity, they 
 were getting poorer instead of richer. 
 
 One Christmas-time, I began to grow so uneasy 
 that I pressed the matter on my master's attention. 
 It was desirable, I told him, " to go over the books 
 and take stock. Money seemed to go out faster than 
 it came in." 
 
 "Ah!" he said, more gravely than usual, "my 
 expenses are very great But what can I do ? How 
 can I curtail them } " 
 
 I had been his right-hand man so long that I was 
 able to speak with the utmost freedom. 
 
 "I think," I replied, — "and do not be offended 
 with me for the remark, — if you stuck closer to 
 business " 
 
 " I never could," he said carelessly ; " I was not 
 cut out for it. Besides, you are always on the spot. 
 The men look up to jon more than they do to me." 
 
 " I am not the master," I began to say ; but he 
 cut me short 
 
 "We'll talk the matter over another time, Harry. 
 My wife and I are going a little jaunt into the 
 country. To-morrow will be the day for looking over 
 the books." 
 
 That period, so often promised, did not seem in-
 
 64 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 clined to come. First one excuse was offered, and 
 then another. I could not persuade my master to 
 go steadily into his affairs. And yet I knew that 
 in spite of my efforts they were becoming more and 
 more complicated. 
 
 In the meantime, there marched full upon us an 
 evil for which even I was hardly prepared. There 
 came a very hard winter, such as the oldest man in 
 the place had never before experienced. I cannot 
 but pause to recall it. The snow lay thick on the 
 ground for weeks, and the river was frozen as hard 
 as iron. All kinds of trade and business suffered a 
 check, and the distress was very great. Indeed, there 
 happened a kind of panic, and many of our neigh- 
 bours were unable to stand their ground, and had to 
 close their shops and become bankrupt. These dark, 
 sad days made me tremble ; and they brought my 
 master, in some degree, to his senses. The company, 
 and the fine dressing within doors, ceased. My 
 master grew thoughtful and depressed. Indeed, he 
 mi"-ht well do so, for but few customers came to the 
 shop, and but few orders were sent in. 
 
 As the year advanced, the panic in trade did not 
 pass away. Things grew worse rather than better. 
 Wc were obliged to dismiss the workmen. There 
 was already more stock than we hoped to get rid of, 
 and we could not afford to pay money out when none 
 was coming in. Those of our men who had been 
 saving and thrifty suffered the least. They had some 
 Httle hoard to fall back upon for a rainy day. Others 
 had lived freely and saved nothing ; on these the 
 blow fell heavily indeed. We did all we could to
 
 TO-MORROW IS THE DAY. 65 
 
 soften it, for my master was thoroup,hly kind-hearted, 
 but the shoe was beginning to pinch ourselves. 
 Nearer and nearer came the grim shadow that we 
 dreaded to look at. It crept into the home; daily 
 we saw symptoms of want in the empty till and the 
 bare cupboard, and the disappearance of first one 
 article and then another. 
 
 "You had better leave the ship, Harry, before she 
 goes down," said my master to me one day ; " we 
 never can outride this storm ! " 
 
 l)ut I could not find it in my heart to do so. I 
 clung to them in their distress ; I had saved a little 
 money, and the old business might right itself It 
 would never have been at this low ebb but for mat- 
 ters beyond my control. Carelessness and indolence 
 had made the vessel leaky ';ven before the tempest 
 began. But this was no time for reproach, and I did 
 not utter a single word. 
 
 «
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN ORDER ! THE WORD HAD A WELCOME SOUND. 
 
 I SEASON of adversity is met in 
 ;^ different ways by different people. 
 
 Those who are under the influence 
 of Divine grace find it a wholesome 
 discipline. "The bitter is sweet, 
 the medicine is food." Others taste 
 no drop of healing in the cup. 
 Affliction on them has no salutary effect. On the 
 contrary, it hardens and embitters them. The latter 
 was the case with my master. His gay good-humour 
 seemed to forsake him. Indeed, to use a homely 
 expression, he went " from bad to worse." 
 
 Having no resource for the hours of leisure that 
 were forced upon us, now our usual employments 
 were suspended, he sought the company of those who 
 were as listless and unoccupied as himself, and would 
 be absent from morning till night. Often, he did not 
 
 66
 
 AN ORDER.' 67 
 
 return till after I was in bed ; for Mrs. Wilkins would 
 never allow any one to sit up for him but herself. I 
 partly guessed the reason of this ; for now and then 
 the sound of angry voices and loud unseemly language 
 would make its way up into my attic ; and the next 
 morning I\Irs. Wilkins would appear at breakfast, her 
 eyes swelled up with crying. 
 
 What little remained of the business must have 
 gone from him if some one had not stood in the gap. 
 There was no one to do this but myself. 
 
 "If you forsake us, Harry," said my mistress again 
 and again, " I cannot think what will become of us." 
 
 I had no wish to leave, though I was out of my 
 time, and might have done so ; and to tell the truth, 
 I began almost to despair. It seemed hard that my 
 master, in spite of the lesson taught him by this 
 painful crisis, still refused to attend to his own 
 interests. It was impossible for me to avert the evil 
 that must come should these practices continue. 
 
 One thing dwelt much on my mind. But for a 
 restraining influence from above, I might have been 
 in the same position. If that downhill step had once 
 been taken, what would have been the result ? Surely 
 it had been good for me to "hold fast by my 
 Sundays." 
 
 One day my master came into the shop with a 
 brisk step, and more cheerful than I had seen him for 
 some time. 
 
 " Harry," he said, " we need not quite give up ; see, 
 I have had an order come in." 
 
 An order ! The word had a welcome sound with 
 it. It had not been spoken among us of late.
 
 6S HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, "a famous order, too. One 
 of the best I ever had in my Hfc. It is for a complete 
 set of furniture, made in rather a cumbrous style, 
 and a little after Andrew Gibson's fashion. But the 
 gentleman is an oddity, and is going to be married, 
 and he wants the goods in a hurry." 
 
 " I suppose we can do it," I said, glad enough to 
 hear such a piece of news. 
 
 " There is not much time given. But the question 
 of ready-money turns upon our supplying the goods 
 by a certain day. He is going abroad, and we shall 
 have to wait till he comes back if we don't keep time. 
 Now, it is just that ready-money, or the loss of it, 
 that will make or mar us." 
 
 I quite agreed with that. I knew well the im- 
 portance of this order to us, and how far it was 
 beyond our expectations. Of course, we would set 
 about it at once. We had had quite idle time enough 
 to last for years. 
 
 But, from the beginning, I knew that it would be 
 a toudh business to complete the order by the day 
 appointed. I warned my master of this, but he made 
 light of it. " We have never been more certain of 
 anything than of getting the goods off," he repeated 
 again and again. 
 
 To do him justice, he applied his whole mind to 
 the work in hand. He was up early and late, and 
 scarcely allowed himself time to eat. But the details 
 were rather tedious. I had learned to carve and gild, 
 and had brought the art to some perfection, and my 
 master expressed himself well satisfied with what I 
 had done.
 
 AN ORDER/ 6-) 
 
 "l)ut cannot you get on faster?" he often asked. 
 
 " Not to do it well," was my reply. 
 
 I was resolved on the " wl/l do" come what might ! 
 
 We had but few men on the premises, and that 
 crippled us. In spite of our exertions, the work 
 seemed to grow beneath our hands. We put on 
 "steam," as Mr. Wilkins called it, and often sat up 
 far into the night. My mistress would con>e in to see 
 how we were getting on, and to bring us our meals. 
 She herself was as busy as possible, for she had taken 
 up her old trade of dressmaking, and her stitching- 
 machine was plied at all hours. In fact, both indoors 
 and out, we were on the full stretch. 
 
 It was an exciting period to us. Time passed 
 quickly by, and the appointed day came very near 
 indeed. With all our efforts we could not quite 
 compass the end. We could not finish the goods, 
 not even with the extra help we had been obliged to 
 procure. Gradually, this fact stood out before us in 
 the strongest light. Monday was the time for sending 
 the furniture and receiving the prompt pa}'ment 
 which had been held out as an inducement to all this 
 extra labour. But it would not be possible to pack 
 and send off the goods bcforeTuesday, — a day too late. 
 
 My master wrote to the eccentric gentleman, and 
 explained how we stood, and asked for the extra 
 time. It was freely granted ; but in that case the 
 payment must stand over till the end of the year, 
 and this was just what we dreaded. My master 
 looked terribly crest-fallen, and threw down his tools 
 in disgust. For myself I knew not what to say or to 
 do.
 
 70 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS 
 
 All at once, my master brightened up, and turned 
 quickly round to me : — 
 
 " Harry, we need not give in. What day is it ? " 
 
 " Friday," I replied. 
 
 " Then there are two full days before us. We can 
 finish in two days." 
 
 "There is but one day," I replied. "The goods 
 have to be packed on Monday morning. There is 
 but to-morrow, Saturday." 
 
 "And Sunday?" 
 
 He let out the word cautiously, and with some 
 hesitation. Finding I did not speak, he repeated it 
 boldly and with emphasis, — 
 
 "And Sunday — you forget Sunday. That will 
 just turn the scale. We must, for once in our lives, 
 work on the Sunday ! "
 
 
 -JS> 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I LOOKED AGAIN AT THE MOTTO. 
 
 ' OME time before, when my principles 
 ^^ were unsettled, the proposal would 
 f^^^^^-^ '""o*^ have shocked mc. I might have 
 'i\\J*-^'^'*\T had a stinjj of conscience, but in the 
 end I should have j'ielded. I should 
 have argued that the case was one 
 of neccssit)', and that the sin would 
 not lie at our door. But I could not blind the light 
 that was in me by any such device. I had left the 
 shop and everything behind, and was standing in my 
 room, looking full at the motto. 
 
 There it was, distinct and authoritative as ever. It 
 admitted of no excuse or evasion. It bade me, under 
 every circumstance, " Hold fast by my Sundays ! " 
 
 For the moment, I had felt some uncertainty. My 
 master's interests were at stake. All we had to hope 
 for, came, in a great measure, from the prompt pay- 
 ment for the labour expended. If we did not receive 
 it, the result would be disastrous. But the very 
 
 7»
 
 72 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 uncertainty ceased to exist, as I looked at the motto. 
 Man might point out one way, but here was the voice 
 of God bidding me to go in another. I could have 
 no doubt which way to take. At any cost, come 
 what might, I would " Hold fast by my Sundays." 
 
 A tap at the door disturbed me, and the anxious, 
 harassed face of my master was thrust in. He had 
 guessed why I had left the shop. It was to gain time, 
 he thought, for reflection, and he said, hurriedly, — 
 
 "God requires us to show kindness to each other, 
 Harry. I am sure you will not fail me just at the 
 last." 
 
 " We must not delay a moment," I replied ; " come 
 let us to work ; " and I ran downstairs. 
 
 He followed just as quickly, and in a few seconds 
 we were plying our respective tasks. He had hoped 
 that my silence gave consent : that I was intending 
 to yield. But this was far from being the case. I 
 was only debating in my mind what I should do. 
 
 Would it be possible, by any means, to finish the 
 work in time ; that is, without trespassing on the 
 Sundav ? 
 
 There were certain cases, for I had turned the 
 matter over in my mind, in which Sunday labour 
 might be a necessity. Such cases had been put 
 forward by our Saviour, that there might be no 
 mistake. There were things to be done on the 
 Sabbath-day in times of sickness and of peril ; but 
 our work did not come within the bounds of these 
 exceptions. For if the matter had been fairly sifted, 
 the need for prompt payment ought not to have been 
 so pressing. Neglect of duty, long indulged in, had
 
 / LOOKED AGAIN AT THE MOTTO. 73 
 
 led up to a certain crisis. It would not be consistent 
 with the Divine command, in this instance, to work 
 on the Sunday. But — and again I debated the point 
 — ho\V would it be possible to avoid any loss to my 
 master } 
 
 I did not come to a conclusion till the close of the 
 day. Then, as the men were about to leave, I made 
 them a proposal : — The times were very desperate, 
 and a little extra money would be acceptable. 
 Would they stay over-hours } — nay, would they work 
 with me through the night .-' 
 
 " You can go home," I said, " and take a few hours 
 rest, as I am about to do. But I shall be in the 
 workshop again by ten. I mean to pull through by 
 Saturday night." 
 
 The men hesitated at first ; but I found it would 
 be a matter of pay. Happily, I had my savings to 
 fall back upon, and I was resolved to carry my point. 
 After a little further parley we came to an agreement, 
 and then the men went home ; and I made a hasty 
 meal, and hurried to my attic to snatch the rest I 
 needed. 
 
 I felt very peaceful and happy. There were no 
 doubts or an.xious questions of right or wrong to 
 perplex my mind. I threw myself, dressed as I was, 
 upon the bed, and was asleep in a moment. Three 
 hours of hearty sleep took the tired feeling out of me. 
 I woke up, just as I heard the men knocking at the 
 door of the workshop. 
 
 I was quickly on the spot, but the door had been 
 opened by Mrs. Wilkins. She turned on the gas, and 
 made up the fire. I saw nothing of my master : he
 
 74 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 was gone to bed. My mistress did not intend to go 
 to rest. Long after, I saw the light in the window, 
 and knew she was plying her machine ; but at last 
 the glimmer went out and all was darkness. 
 
 It was a cold starlight night, and very still. Not a 
 sound was heard, except when the heavy tread of the 
 policeman came down the street. Our workshop was 
 warm and light, and we toiled on almost in silence. 
 Now and then one of the men would hum a tune, and 
 sometimes we spoke a word or two, as if to beguile 
 our weariness ; but, on the whole, we worked on in 
 the utmost quici-ude. 
 
 At length a streak of daylight was seen in the east, 
 and presently it made its way into the shop, and fell 
 on our pale and rather haggard faces ; for we were 
 thoroughly tired and could scarcely handle our tools. 
 Indeed one of the men began to grumble and to give 
 signs of falling off. " It would have been better," he 
 said, " to take Mr. Wilkins's advice, and work on the 
 Sunday." 
 
 I found myself in rather a difficult position, and 
 that I must again have recourse to increased pay. 
 This soon did the business, and the men went home 
 to breakfast and to rest. At nine o'clock, they 
 promised to come back. As for myself, I lay down 
 to sleep on a bench under the window. 
 
 That Saturday was the hardest pull of all. I shall 
 never forget it as long as I live ! I was getting tired 
 out. My head and arms and feet ached. I was 
 dizzy for want of sufficient sleep. And yet, as the 
 day wore on, it was apparent that I should attain the 
 end for which I had been striving — that there would
 
 / LOOKED AGAIN AT THE MOTTO. 
 
 be no occasion to work on the Sunday. It would 
 again be a case of sitting up late ; but this time my 
 master did not leave us. He had caught the spirit 
 of the race with time, for such it was, and he kept 
 on bravely. 
 
 Ten — eleven o'clock struck, with a booming sound 
 from the great church close by. Very little remained 
 to be done; and the set of handsome furniture was 
 completed, and had a noble appearance. It pleased 
 me more than any work I had ever undertaken. The 
 men gave a hearty cheer when the last stroke was 
 finished ; and as they did so^ boom again went the 
 clock — it was twelve. 
 
 The week had ended, and the Sabbath had begun !
 
 ;^. i"^') 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 A GOOD EXAMPLE IS WORTH 
 FOLLOWING." 
 
 E were glad enough to lay aside 
 
 our tools and go into the house. 
 
 Wc found my mistress sitting up 
 
 for us, and a comfortable supper 
 
 prepared. It was one of the 
 
 pleasantest meals of which I had 
 
 partaken since I had been under their roof They 
 
 expressed the utmost gratitude to me for the effort I 
 
 had made ; and my mistress cried for joy to think 
 
 that some of their difficulties were over, and that the 
 
 ruin she had feared might never come to pass. 
 
 Late as it was, we sat a little time talking together 
 
 in a kind and friendly manner. And it seemed as it 
 
 some new link were established between us — a link 
 
 that almost reminded me of the days of my old 
 
 master and Ruth. 
 
 I need not say that I slept well that night. Late 
 
 as it was, I glanced at my motto ere I lay down tf 
 
 rest. 
 
 16
 
 "A GOOD EXAMPLE IS IVORTII FOLLOW I NGP 77 
 
 " It is you," I thought — speaking to it, as though it 
 were a friend and counsellor — " it is you that have 
 kept nic out of danger, and have hedged me in on 
 every' side." And I went to sleep with the very 
 motto on my lips, " Hold fast by your Sundays." 
 
 NeJit morning I was roused by the chiming of the 
 early bells. It was later than usual ; and I dressed 
 in haste and went down, expecting that no breakfast 
 would be prepared. This had been a matter of course 
 on a Sunday morning; but a change had taken place. 
 There was the table spread by the cheerful fire. All 
 was neat and orderly in the room, and my master and 
 mistress had already seated themselves to begin. 
 
 " Harry," said my master, in a more serious tone 
 than he was wont to use, "I have been thinking 
 that a good example is worth following. Somehow I 
 feel glad to-day is not to be spent in the workshop. 
 How if we set about, late as it is, my wife and I, and 
 try to hold fast by our Sundays ? " 
 
 "You could not do a better thing," I replied, 
 joyfully ; and then I found that both my master and 
 mistress were intending to go to church. 
 
 Yes ; it was almost like the old days. My mistress 
 made haste to clear away and set all to rights ; and 
 then she put on her bonnet and cloak, and we went 
 together : Mrs. Wilkins locking the door and carry- 
 ing the key in her pocket, as Ruth had done. 
 
 We walked all three to church as we had never 
 done before. Happy Sunday ! It seems as fresh in 
 my mind as though it were but yesterday ! It was 
 indeed a day of rest; the toils of the week had 
 ceased. The workshop was empty and deserted.
 
 78 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 The tools we had been handhng so busily lay 
 neglected. There was a higher matter cai hand ; a 
 business not of this world, but in which the utmost 
 industry and care were needed ; a race to be run ; a 
 prize to be gained ; and, to quicken our zeal, we had 
 given us these Sabbaths, coming in regular succession. 
 — like summer and winter, seedtime and harvest, and 
 never failing ! What a blessing to be able to hold 
 fast by these ! 
 
 The next morning we might be said to have risen 
 with the lark. The goods had to be packed and sent 
 off by rail, and I was to go with them and see them 
 delivered. I was, besides, to receive the payment, 
 which, as my master said, was the pleasantest part of 
 the story. 
 
 It was a cheerful morning in the Spring, The 
 frost and snow had long since departed, and things 
 were assuming a brighter aspect. At one of the 
 stations where the train stopped, an old acquaintance 
 of mine came hurrying up and got into the carriage. 
 I recognised him at once as Peter Clarke. 
 
 He was much smarter than when I saw him last, 
 and he wore a flower in his button-hole, as though 
 he were going upon a holiday excursion. And so he 
 was ; for he began to tell me that he was the most 
 lucky person in the world, and was about to get 
 married. 
 
 "A very smart girl she is," he said, "and has a bit 
 of money too ; so I am going to set up in business 
 for myself in the best part of the town." 
 
 I soon found that his disposition had not changed 
 in the least. He was as boastful as ever, and talked
 
 "A GOOD EXAMPLE IS WORTH FOLLOWING:' ^:) 
 
 about the fine plate-glass window he had ordered for 
 his shop, and the stock of goods that was to come 
 down from London. 
 
 To listen to him you might fancy that his wife's 
 fortune had no limit. 
 
 At the next station he left the train, and I had 
 an opportunity of seeing the young woman he was 
 intending to marry. She was on the platform with 
 her sister, and was smart enough as regarded the gay 
 colours of her dress, and the long ear-rings she wore, 
 and the ribbons and the flowers. 
 
 I must confess she scarcely pleased me. There 
 was a quiet staid girl in my own village, whom I had 
 known from a boy, — a girl whose plain dress and neat 
 bonnet would have formed a contrast to the finery of 
 the other : but whenever the thought had occurred 
 to me of a settled home and fireside of my own, it 
 was linked with the remembrance of Susan Dale ; 
 and this little conversation with Peter Clarke made 
 me resolve, at my next visit home, to lay before her 
 the state of my mind. The bad times were eettinsf 
 over, and I might with my savings begin life on my 
 own account : not in a grand new shop, but in a 
 humble plodding way, and by degrees getting up the 
 hill. , 
 
 It had always been sweet to me to think of a time 
 like this. I was little given to building castles in the 
 air, but as the train whirled along I did paint a little 
 picture in my own fancy of what might, one da}', be !
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MORE CHANGES STILL. 
 
 HEN I reached the end of my 
 
 journey, I did just as ]\Ir. Wilkins 
 
 had directed me. When the van 
 
 of furniture was unloosed from 
 
 the train, I waited by it till horses 
 
 were brought, and it was slowly 
 
 dragged to the gates of the house where the eccentric 
 
 gentleman lived. Some old servants, who looked as 
 
 if they had lived in the family for years, came out to 
 
 receive the goods ; and I was asked into a kind of 
 
 ante-room to wait until the master of the house could 
 
 speak to me. I had waited perhaps three-quarters of 
 
 an hour, when he came in. He explained the delay 
 
 by telling me that he had been superintending the 
 
 unpacking of the furniture, and that he was satisfied 
 
 with the way in which his orders had been executed. 
 
 He was quite ready with his payment, and I received 
 
 a cheque for the full amount which we had expected. 
 
 " It was a great convenience to me to have the 
 
 80
 
 MORE CHANGES STILL. t\ 
 
 furniture in lime," he said; "and you will have lost 
 nothiiifT by your civility. I have a large circle of 
 friends, and I shall recommend some of them to pay 
 your shop a visit." 
 
 I was glad enough of the promise. Indeed, I never 
 felt more light-hearted in my life than I did on my 
 return home. I was carrying back a plentiful return 
 for our labour, and a hope for the future. And better 
 than all, there would be no broken Sabbaths to rise 
 in judgment against us. 
 
 When I returned home, I found my master dili- 
 gently engaged in looking over his books. It was 
 time, he said, to take to the business in earnest, and 
 he intended for the future to do so. " And now let 
 us see what you have brought," he continued as he 
 closed his book. 
 
 Glad enough he was when I put the amount into 
 his hand. It would set us quite straight, he said ; 
 and when the tide had fairly turned, he should have 
 a proposal to make to me. 
 
 The tide was not long in turning. Trade began to 
 revive, and orders to come in, — many of them from 
 entire strangers ; so that we greatly extended our 
 connection. Then, what was better still, my master 
 turned over a new leaf, and became as diligent as 
 before he had been careless. He worked hard, and 
 gave up those continual pleasure jaunts which had 
 taken up so much of his time and thought. His wife 
 continued her dressmaking and added to the income: 
 so that we began to be quite prosperous. 
 
 Still, amid all this, the thought was often in my 
 mind that I should like to rise a step higher in the 
 
 F
 
 S2 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 world. There was but one difficulty. I was unwilling 
 to leave the old business, aixl I had scarcely saved 
 enough to make any great venture. And although I 
 felt sure that Susan returned my attachment, I dare 
 not openly speak to her on the subject until I could 
 offer her a home equal in comfort to her own. These 
 thoughts perplexed me, and I used to turn them over 
 and over in my mind. All at once, however, the way 
 was made plain before me. 
 
 One day, — it was my twenty-fifth birthday, — my 
 master asked if I remembered his saying that when 
 the tide turned he should make me a proposal. 
 
 "Things are now in a very different state," he 
 continued; "trade is brisk, and the business what it 
 has never been before. I date all my success from 
 that Sunday ! " 
 
 We were both silent a few minutes ; then he went 
 on, — 
 
 " I feel as if you ought to fill a better place than 
 that of foreman. The business will maintain us both 
 in tolerable comfort. What say you to becoming a 
 partner ? " 
 
 My heart seemed to leap into my mouth. No 
 proposal could have been more welcome, — all my 
 difficulties would be solved. 
 
 " I tell you what, Harry," resumed Mr. Wilkins ; 
 " my wife and myself have been discussing the matter 
 a good while. We owe you a great deal, more per- 
 haps than we can ever repay." 
 
 " Don't talk of that," I interrupted him by say- 
 
 ing- 
 
 " But I ivill talk. That Sunday business seems
 
 RIO RE CHANGES STILL. Z\ 
 
 to have made all rii,dit wilh me. I have been like 
 another man since I v.ent regularly to church, and 
 gave up pleasuring. It is wonderful the effect of 
 keeping Sunday upon us working men. I could 
 write a book about it if I were a scholar. My head 
 is clear and cool on the Monday morning, and I feel 
 rested and ready for the week. There is something 
 else, I know, behind all this, but I have not felt my 
 way to it yet." 
 
 ''There is more in the Sunday than yon think!''' 
 The words spoken long ago by my mother, recurred 
 forcibly to my mind. There was indeed more than I 
 thought! Rest — peace— joy; the hidden manna, of 
 wliich if a man eat, he shall never hunger ; and the 
 water of life, of which if he drink, he shall never 
 thirst ! What docs the Sabbath-breaker gain, I 
 thought ; or rather, what does he lose, by his snatches 
 of unholy pleasure, boasted of from time to time? 
 Fatigue, dissatisfaction, loss of bodily vigour, and the 
 harvest reaped by the hand of the diligent. And 
 worse than all, loss of that better Sabbath whose rest 
 will be complete and eternal ! 
 
 My master's proposal was now again made to me, 
 and we held a good deal of conversation on the 
 subject. I need not say that his offer was thankfully 
 accepted, and it fitted in with the scheme I had been 
 lately planning. I was about to pay a visit to my 
 parents, and that would be the time for speaking 
 the important words which had been considered 
 again and again. That would be the time to ask 
 Susan if she was content to share my humble lot 
 and be my wife.
 
 84 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 The arrangements connected with my change of 
 position were all pleasant and easy. At first Mr. 
 Wilkins proposed that I should continue to live under 
 his roof; but when I shook my head, he smiled as 
 though he guessed my secret. 
 
 "Ah ! you are like the rest of the world," he said ; 
 " I suppose you are thinking of setting up house- 
 keeping for yourself .-' " 
 
 When I confessed that such was the fact, both he 
 and his wife entered into the matter with all their 
 hearts. The close and confined situation of the 
 house did not suit my master's health ; and, as 
 matters stood, he was glad of the opportunity of 
 leaving it. Within the last few weeks a small legacy 
 had come to Mrs. W' ilkins ; and this, with the im- 
 proved state of the business, gave them the right to 
 choose another place of residence. They were not 
 attached to the old place as I was ; and it Avas 
 proposed that I should live at the shop, and that they 
 should remove to a short distance where the street 
 was wider and more airy. I was not afraid of the 
 step, as far as Mr. W^ilkins was concerned. I felt 
 convinced that the old days of sloth and inattention 
 would not return. And the old-fashioned house in 
 which Andrew Gibson had passed so much of his 
 life was amply sufficient for me. It was early in the 
 day to think of a better situation. Years after, that 
 might be ! 
 
 But, before any final arrangements were made, I 
 must hear from Susan's own lips if she was willing to 
 come. It would never do to put off the important 
 question any longer ! To-morrow was Saturday ; I
 
 MORE CHANGES STILL. 85 
 
 would have my little holiday trip, and return in time 
 for business on the Monday. 
 
 This time I did not choose the old mode of con- 
 veyailce — the carrier's cart. I went by train to 
 within a few miles of my native village, and then I 
 walked through the cool of the summer evening. My 
 heart beat a little at the sight of the well-known 
 spire rising up from among the trees ; for this was 
 the most important visit I had ever paid. But I 
 quickened my pace, and was quickly at home. There 
 was the neat trim garden in which my father was 
 working; and I caught sight of my mother's spotless 
 cap as she stood at the window. Within the cottage 
 all was in order for the Sabbath. The room was 
 clean, and not a thing out of place. The Sunday 
 shoes stood in their place, ready blacked ; the clean 
 clothes were airing by the fire ; the Sunday coat 
 brushed and laid ready. Nothing remained to be 
 done but the preparation for the evening meal, and 
 the solemn prayer and reading of the Word of God. 
 
 I had been used to these pious, well-ordered 
 customs, from my childhood upwards. They were 
 always dear to me. Happy the cottage home where 
 they prevail ; where homely virtues reign ; and above 
 them, the fear of God rules supreme, and reaches to 
 the very thoughts and intents of the heart. 

 
 [!l£K>^- 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SUNNY SPOT IN MY LIFE. 
 
 ^^/-f/y HEN my father saw me, he threw 
 
 down his spade, and cam.e towards 
 me ; and I soon felt my mother's 
 arms round my neck. But much as 
 I enjoyed that happy meeting and 
 the pleasant chat at the cottage door, 
 I was not quite at my ease. The gist and purport of 
 my journey home did not altogether lie here. I knew 
 I could not sleep until I had spoken to Susan. 
 
 I think my mother suspected my state of mind, for 
 she gave a knowing look at my father when I said 
 presently that I should stroll a little farther. Some- 
 how I felt very shy and bashful about mentioning 
 names, and did not like to say openly that I was 
 going to call upon Susan. 
 
 I knew exactly in what state I should find Susan's 
 home : that, on rather a better scale, it would be a 
 counterpart of my own. When I saw it, my heart 
 
 86
 
 A SUNNY SPOT IN MY LIFE. S7 
 
 beat faster still. There it was, the snow-white cur- 
 tains shading the windows, the carpet on the floor, 
 the trim bookcase — for Susan was considered quite a 
 scholar — the geraniums and mignonette on the win- 
 dow-seat ; and, better than all, Susan herself sitting 
 at work in the doorway. I must pause a moment to 
 describe her, the faithful companion of my life, the 
 helpmeet through many years, the dear and loved 
 one, who, I trust, awaits me beyond the grave ! 
 
 I see her now, as she was that evening, in her quiet- 
 looking dress, without the least pretence to ornament 
 or finery; her smooth brown hair neatly braided; her 
 kind and sensible face, and friendly eyes. I thought 
 her, at the time, and I well know her now, to have 
 been all that a woman professing godliness should 
 be : clothed, not with the outward adorning of gold 
 and silver, but with that " meek and quiet spirit " 
 which is beyond all price. 
 
 I was glad when she told me she was alone. Her 
 father and mother had gone to market at the nearest 
 town, and would not be home at present. This would 
 be a golden opportunity for telling her what was in 
 my mind, and I did not intend to let it slip. 
 
 She seemed very pleased to see me ; indeed her 
 manner had always been cordial and pleasant. She 
 crave me a chair and sat down again to her sewing. 
 . Every little incident connected with that evening 
 IS imprinted on my momory. I recollect that men 
 were carrying hay in the field opposite, v/orking late 
 to secure it against the weather. The scent of hay 
 was wafted to us as we sat. And I remember the 
 distant hum of the village street, and the clear note
 
 83 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 of the thrush as it sang in the tree opposite ; and I 
 recollect the ticking of the clock, and the nervous 
 sensation in my throat when I tried to speak. 
 
 At length I blundered out the purport of my visit, 
 and the question that had been on my lips so long. 
 I had been attached to her, I said, for years ; and 
 then came the old story, repeated again and again, 
 in all classes and conditions of life, but which never 
 loses any of its interest. 
 
 And then Susan's busy fingers stopped, and her 
 work was dropped on the floor ; and by-and-by she 
 was soberly picking it up, her eyes moist, and a bright 
 colour in her cheeks, and she and I were cngrgeJ to 
 be married. 
 
 There are some sunny spots in life which shine out 
 through the past, and never lose their lustre. This 
 visit home was one. I stayed with Susan until her 
 parents returned, and then came the business of 
 asking their consent. This was quickly over, and I 
 stepped briskly back to my own cottage, my heart 
 light as a feather. Then came the evening meal, and 
 the short solemn prayer, ere we retired to rest. 
 
 The Sabbath morning broke with the chiming of 
 the bells. There was the cheerful breakfast, the 
 welcome hour of worship, and the quiet walk in the 
 summer's afternoon. Susan and I wandered by the 
 brook, and over the meadows, and up by the green 
 copse, all in its leafy beauty. And better still, there 
 was the pleasant converse, and the happy thoughts 
 of the future, and the consciousness that we who had 
 so lately pledged our troth to each other were of one 
 heart and one mind, having the same hopes and aims
 
 A SUNNY SPOT IN MY LIFE. Sg 
 
 and purposes as regards this world and that which is 
 to come. 
 
 It was a Sunday long to be remembered in my 
 simple history, but it passed away as such da)-s must. 
 The last note of psalm or h}mn died out, and the 
 village was hushed in repose. For a long time I did 
 not sleep, my heart was too full of joy and thank- 
 fulness ; for the hopes of early years arc bright, and 
 there seemed scarce a cloud upon my sky. 
 
 When I did sleep it was to dream of a home with 
 Susan ! 
 
 The next morning I did not go straight back to 
 my business. When I had talked the matter over 
 again with my father and mother, and heard them 
 approve of my choice, and tell me they had suspected 
 it all along, and that Susan had declined many offers 
 of marriage — " no doubt," as my mother observed, 
 " for my sake," and when I had said farewell to Susan 
 herself, I took a little trip farther to call on my old 
 master and Ruth. It was a long time since I had 
 seen them, and I wanted to tell the important news, 
 and invite them to the wedding. The weddincr would 
 take place before the summer was over; for there was 
 nothing to wait for, and the sooner Susan was mistress 
 of the house the better. 
 
 Andrew Gibson had a pleasant place in the country. 
 There was a field, and a cow grazing in it, and there 
 was a large garden stocked with fruit and vegetables. 
 Ruth kept the house, as she used to do, only she had 
 servants to look after, and wore a silk gown on high 
 days and holidays. But she was the same dear good 
 gentle Ruth as ever.
 
 90 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 They were very glad to see me, and soon we sat 
 talking just as \vc used to do; and then Ruth showed 
 me her poultry-yard and her dairy, and the stack just 
 got in from the meadows, and all the treasures they 
 possessed. 
 
 I felt just as bashful as ever when I began to tell 
 the purport of my visit and to talk about Susan. But 
 I contrived to get it out at last, and Mr. Gibson and 
 Ruth seemed delighted to hear of my prospect, and 
 wished me all kinds of happiness. 
 
 " I am glad you are going to stick to the old busi- 
 ness, Harry," said Andrew Gibson. " I feel it will be 
 safe in your hands ; and Ruth and I will be sure and 
 come to your wedding." 
 
 By-and-by my dear old master took me aside to 
 talk about his son. 
 
 " Harry," lie said, " something always tells me that 
 my poor boy will come back some day. I may not 
 be alive, but it comforts me to think you will be in 
 the old place. He'll be sure to find his way there, for 
 he knows nothing of our removal ; will you promise 
 for my sake to be kind to him t " 
 
 " You may rest assured of it," I said hastily ; and 
 I fully intended what I said. 
 
 "It comforts me to hear you say so," and the old 
 man wiped his eyes. " I know, at least I fear, that 
 he will come ragged and beggared and an outcast, 
 like the prodigal son. I leave him to you, Harry, to 
 give him succour for the sake of the old friendship 
 that has been between us." 
 
 Again I promised. I had thought often of that 
 outcast son, about whom many particulars had been
 
 A SUNNY SPOT IN MY LIFE. 91 
 
 told mc ; and it had run strangely in my mind that 
 he might some day return. But the subject was 
 dropped for the present, or rather it gave place to 
 happier topics ; and soon after I took my leave. 
 
 The next time my kind friends and I were to meet 
 would be at my wedding. 

 
 c 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE TWO WEDDINGS. 
 
 ND now came an exciting period, — 
 happy, but not settled by any means. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins in due time 
 vacated the house, and settled them- 
 selves in another, at a very little 
 distance, and I was put in posses- 
 sion. 
 
 Proud enough I was to have a house of my own ; 
 nor did I feel the least envy on passing the fine shop 
 in the Market Place about to be occupied by Peter 
 Clarke, His house was large and grand compared to 
 mine ; and the windows were wide open, for it was 
 being done up from top to bottom, and flashy-looking 
 papers being hung, and a great deal of painting and 
 whitewashing going on. I was quite contented with 
 my humbler abode. I had it well cleansed and put 
 in excellent order. I chose neat-looking papers, such 
 
 as I k-new Susan would like, and furnished the house 
 
 92
 
 THE TWO WEDDINGS. 93 
 
 plainly, but as well as I could. To tell the truth, I 
 made sundry little articles in over-hours to give a 
 better effect ; and I took care to have a new illumi- 
 nati6n hunL,^ up o\-cr the sitting-room fireplace, by 
 way cf ornament, and to keep us always in remem- 
 brance of my favourite motto, — 
 
 " Hold fast by your Sundays." 
 
 Time passed quickly on; days and weeks glided 
 by ; and at length every arrangement was made, and 
 I started off one fine morning to fetch Susan. We 
 were to be married at the village church, and the 
 wedding was to be a very quiet one. 
 
 On the way, however, I had a glimpse of a much 
 grander affair than mine. At the station where Peter 
 Clarke had on my previous journey left the train, a 
 carriage with white horses and postilions were stand- 
 ing, and the village bells were ringing merrily. I had 
 a passing glance at the wedding party, at the bride 
 in silks and furbelows, and with a white veil and 
 white satin shoes, and as dashing as you please. 
 • Peter himself, too, I saw, very smart and important 
 in his white waistcoat and gloves, and the bouquet in 
 his button-hole. The glance was a very momentary 
 one, and on we rushed, leaving all behind. 
 
 That gay bridal party dwelt in my mind for some 
 time. It stands out now in vivid contrast with other 
 scenes to be recounted in the life of Peter Clarke. 
 B-'t my own wedding ! That most important epoch 
 ii. my history. Bright cjid fair it rises before me : 
 the pleasant morning in the early autumn, with a 
 crisp coolness in the air, and the dew scarce dried
 
 94 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 from the grass, and the cottage home done up in its 
 best array, with new white curtains in the window 
 and flowers on the table ; and my dear old master in 
 his Sunday suit, and Ruth in white ribbons and a 
 grey dress made in honour of the occasion ; and my 
 father quietly happy and content, and my mother 
 brisk as ever ; and then the bride, modest and un- 
 pretending, and just what a working-man's bride 
 should be. 
 
 Happy group ! I see it now, through all this lapse 
 of years ; and I date from that marriage-day the 
 best and sweetest happiness that can be known on 
 earth ! 
 
 We walked to church attended by many friends 
 whose smiling faces seemed to make sunshine around 
 us ; and the church was crowded to see Susan Dale 
 married. 
 
 I think we both entered fully into the service. I 
 think our hearts united in solemn prayer as we knelt 
 together, — prayer that God would be with us through 
 the untried scenes of our future lot, and that the pillar 
 of cloud by day and of fire by night might go before 
 us. And as a gleam of sunshine streamed through 
 the window and fell lovingly upon us, we felt as 
 though it were reflected in our hearts, and we rose 
 up glad and hopeful. 
 
 What a day of quiet happiness it was for all of us ! 
 There was no boisterous mirth or revelry, but merely 
 a gathering of those friends we loved and valued. 
 When breakfast was over, Susan and I started for a 
 few days' holiday ; and when these had sped quickly 
 by, I brought her home.
 
 77//; TIVO WEDDINGS. 95 
 
 I'luit bringing Susan home was the best of all. I 
 had been afraid the place would look dark and 
 gloomy after her country life, and that she would 
 miss' the green fields and the pleasant sights and 
 sounds to which she had been accustomed. Ikit she 
 never hinted at anything of the kind. She was 
 pleased with the house, and the furniture, and the 
 rooms, and all belonging to them. In fact, she was 
 as brisk and cheerful as a lark ; and a more frugal, 
 prudent wife could not have been. My home-life 
 was indeed a happy one, — order and good manage- 
 ment reigned, and my affairs might well prosper. 
 
 All day we were busy with our several duties, but 
 the evening was our own. The evenings began to 
 close in early now, and I was glad enough when the 
 time came to shut up the shop and go to my cheerful 
 hearth. The lamp would be lighted and the curtains 
 drawn, and bc)'ond our fireside comfort we seemed 
 to want for nothing. I used sometimes to read to 
 Susan while she was busy with her sewing, for she 
 had a little library of her own which she had brought 
 with her. Sometimes the book was religious, and 
 sometimes it contained information about many 
 things, and served to improve the mind and raise it 
 above the little cares of everyday life. So content 
 was I with these evenings, that I envied no one, 
 however rich or great ; nor did I wish for any other 
 amusement or recreation than what they afforded. 
 
 Such was not exactly the case with my old 
 acquaintance, Peter Clarke. When we had been 
 home a few weeks, he and his bride called upon us. 
 
 She was a fine-looking girl, but very showily
 
 96 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 dressed, and had a way of talking and laughing 
 loudly that was a contrast to my quiet Susan. Nor 
 were her notions at all in harmony with those of 
 Susan. She meant to enjoy herself, she said, now 
 she was married, and to make Peter take her to 
 places of amusement. She had no idea of a hum- 
 drum life. She wondered how my wife contrived 
 to exist in such a dull situation. I must say I felt 
 rather sorry for Peter. He was thrown into the 
 shade by his wife, who talked incessantly and boasted 
 even more than he did. I found they kept two 
 servants, and were living quite in style for such 
 kind of people ; and I wondered how much money 
 she had brought him. 
 
 " It is a capital place for business, where we live," 
 she said to Susan. " I wonder you don't persuade 
 your husband to break up here, and take a shop in 
 the Market Place. Peter will have enough to retire 
 upon in a icv; years." 
 
 I did not clearly understand hov/ that could be, for 
 I perceived that Peter's goods were ticketed at lov/ 
 prices, and I knew that rents and payments in that 
 part of the town were very high. And I knew also, 
 for Peter confessed as much, that he was constantly 
 making holiday ; and I wondered how long this state 
 of things would last. 
 
 They were both anxious that we should return the 
 call, and I could not well refuse. Susan shrank from 
 the acquaintance, but I felt sure the intercourse 
 would be a very casual one ; and as for visiting, I 
 set my face steadily against it. We were working 
 people, I said, and had no leisure
 
 THE TWO WEDDINGS. 97 
 
 But we did call upon them one holiday afternoon. 
 We found the house full of cheap showy furniture ; 
 but very disorderly, and without the least comfort 
 in it. Mrs. Clarke was dressed up like a lady, and 
 talked as fast and as loud as ever. But Peter, 
 I thought, looked rather careworn and harassed. 
 " Business," he said, for we began to talk on the 
 subject, " was a hazardous game to play at ; " and 
 he added that a new shop had been opened which 
 was likely to injure him. 
 
 He said this privately to me, while his wife was 
 talking to Susan. I did not think he was very 
 happy. They were scarcely ever at home in the 
 evening, and I fancied his wife was a bit of a terma- 
 gant. I felt sure that Susan thought so too, only she 
 held her peace. 
 
 After this visit we saw very little of the Clarkcs 
 for more than a year. But one day, as I was walking 
 down the street, I caught sight of Peter on the op- 
 posite side. He crossed over at once to shake hands. 
 
 " I am afraid you are going to drop us," he said ; 
 " and I shall be very sorry for that." 
 
 Then he told me how he wished my wife would 
 use a little influence with his wife. 
 
 " The truth is," he said, " we are living too fast. I 
 want to hold her in, but she won't hear a word of 
 that." 
 
 " She thinks, perhaps, she has a right to do as she 
 likes," I replied, hardly knowing what to say. 
 
 "That is just it. She brought me some money, 
 but it was all swallowed up in furnishing. I have 
 nothing but the business to depend upon."
 
 98 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 "But if the business is a flourishing one- 
 I beean. 
 
 -fc." 
 
 " I hoped it would have been," he interrupted 
 me by saying ; " but I have been taken in. I am 
 selling ahiiost at prime cost, and that sounds Hke 
 beggary ; don't it ? " 
 
 " If you laid the matter before Mrs. Clarke " 
 
 I began again. 
 
 " That is of no use. She won't believe me. Women 
 know nothing of business, and seem to think that 
 their husbands are made of money." 
 
 Susan did not think so, but I forbore to make any 
 comparison ; only I called to mind a text of Scrip- 
 ture that said, " A good wife is of the Lord." 
 
 I was sorry to see Peter so sad and crestfallen. 
 He walked with me down the street, and came into 
 our neat little room. The tea was on the table, and 
 he took a cup with us. 
 
 After tea, Susan brought out her work, and the 
 lamp was lighted as usual, and the fire made up and 
 the curtains drawn. When he took his leave he 
 gave me to understand that I had by far the best 
 of it.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "WHAT HAS THE SABBATH-BREAKER 
 GAINED ? " 
 
 FTER a time my cosy parlour lost for 
 a while its brightest ornament. 
 
 Susan was upstairs, and a little 
 ^■^^ daughter lay by her side — a 
 i^\^ treasure, it seemed to me, beyond 
 ^/ ^ all price. How I kissed the soft 
 velvet cheek, and played with the tiny hand ! I low 
 I hune over the innocent babe with all a father's 
 rapture ! Susan and I thought that now our cup 
 of bliss was full. 
 
 Just at this epoch, and w4iile I was having solitary- 
 meals, Peter Clarke came more frequently than ever. 
 I wondered that his wife would permit his absence ; 
 but he talked very little about her. I knew the state 
 his home had slipped into. I knew that the smart 
 cheap furniture was dirty and shabby already, that 
 
 99
 
 loo HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 all was disorder and waste, and that his wife's temper 
 was driving him from his own fireside. I never 
 begrudged him a place at my hearth. 
 
 One of our conversations I must try and record. I 
 remember the night well. It was Saturday, and the 
 next day Susan was to come down stairs. Thanks 
 to the handy little servant my wife had trained, my 
 situation had not been very forlorn. My room had 
 been kept neat, and the meals served with comfort. 
 But still there had been an absence of those niceties, 
 if I might call them so, which marked the presence 
 of the mistress. I had, besides, never thoroughly 
 enjoyed the meal when I sat down to it alone. There 
 had lacked the friendly converse and the pleasant 
 smile which made so much of my daily happiness ; 
 and though my leisure time was passed with Susan 
 in her room upstairs, there was a sense of loneliness 
 when I came down again, I was thinking this as 
 I poured out my cup of tea, when a figure went by 
 the window and a tap came at the door. 
 
 I went to open it, for I knew that my old acquaint- 
 ance had dropped in for a call. 
 
 He came in silently, and I was struck with the 
 change in his appearance since his last visit. He 
 looked worn and haggard, and sat down with an air 
 of dejection. I asked him to take a cup of tea ; but 
 he refused, and remained for a little time silent, 
 without speaking a word. All at once he cast his 
 eye upon the motto over the fireplace. 
 
 "Ah ! " he said, mournfully. " It might have been 
 better for me if I had done the same ! Do you know, 
 Harry " (he always called me so), " I date all my
 
 " WHAT THE SABBATII-DREAKER GAINS." loi 
 
 troubles and vexations from that wretched Sunday 
 spent on the river ! " 
 
 I was glad enough to hear him confess the evil of 
 Sunday excursions, but I said nothing. 
 
 "All is not gold that glitters," he went on, "and 
 somehow everything has gone wrong with me since." 
 
 " In what way?" I asked. 
 
 " In all ways. One thing I am certain of," he 
 continued, still looking at the motto: "those who 
 promote Sunday pleasuring are no friends to the 
 working-man. I have scarce spent a quiet Sunday 
 for years ; and it takes till the middle of the week 
 to get over the fatigue." 
 
 " Yet God gave the seventh day for a day of rest," 
 I remarked. 
 
 "I know; but pleasure is not rest. I have found 
 it out, Harry. It is grievous toil. Your partner 
 ]\Ir. Wilkins, see what his Sundays have done for 
 him ! Ever since he took to keeping Sunday every- 
 thing has gone well with him." 
 
 "Because," I said, "his head is clear, his mind 
 refreshed, his body rested. Monday morning finds 
 him right and ready for work, not wearied and jaded 
 and wanting the rest he has omitted to take." 
 
 "I think you are right, Harry; indeed, I know you 
 are, now it is too late." 
 
 " Why too late, Peter } Besides, we are only 
 speaking of Sunday as regards the bodily rest it 
 yields ; there is more behind, far more. Indeed, the 
 very gist and meaning of the Day points to things 
 unseen, and by many unrealized." 
 
 "It is too late!" he said, not noticing my speech.
 
 I03 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 " We have been going, step by step, in a downhill 
 com'se. I can't retrieve it. I wish I could. I have 
 come to you to-night, because you are the only friend 
 I have in the world." 
 
 I dreaded what he was going to say. There had 
 been rumours afloat for some time respecting him, 
 and now my fears were realized. 
 
 "The fact is, Harry," he went on to tell me, "I am 
 close upon being a ruined man." 
 
 " That is very serious," I replied, hardly knowing 
 what to say. 
 
 " And you are my only resource. I was deceived 
 about the money my wife was to bring me. It was 
 not nearly so much as I expected." 
 
 " But your business," I said ; "your business .-*" 
 
 " It was a moderate one. I don't say but it might 
 have been better, had I paid more attention to it ; 
 but it gets less and less. People complain of the 
 goods, and my shopmen are not in my interest. A 
 great many customers have gone away, and I cannot 
 get them back." 
 
 " All this is sad," I replied, " but it can be remedied 
 if you put your shoulder to the wheel and get the 
 business together again. Nothing can stand before 
 industry and steady perseverance." 
 
 "Ah ! " he said again ; " but it is too late, unless — " 
 and he paused. 
 
 I made no remark, waiting till he should finish the 
 sentence. 
 
 At last he told me that his stock of goods had 
 been all on credit, and so had some of his household 
 furniture. And his creditors threatened him with
 
 « Jl^J/AT TtlE SADBAtn-BRiLAliER CAlNS." 103 
 
 an execution in the house ; indeed, unless some one 
 gave security for him, all would be over in a few 
 days. 
 
 I confess I was rather staggered to hear this revela- 
 tion, and I could guess what would come next. He 
 would ask me to give security for him ; and this was 
 what I was resolved never to do. 
 
 His wife, he said, knew nothing of what was 
 conn'ng. He had tried to alarm her by hints and 
 warnings, but she would not take them. She only 
 called him a stingy fellow, and said that when a girl 
 married she expected never to want for money. 
 
 I told him he was wrong to conceal anything. 
 He ought to be open as the day, and explain the 
 exact state of affairs. " It will be much worse for 
 your wife," I said, "if the misfortune comes without 
 notice." 
 
 " It cannot come if you befriend me," he replied 
 quickly ; " indeed, you are the only person I can ask. 
 If you will give security foi me, the danger may be 
 warded off, and I will work night and day to right 
 myself. You shall never repent having helped a poor 
 fellow in his extremity." 
 
 I shook my head, but he was not deterred from 
 asking me again and again. And he pleaded so 
 earnestly that it made my heart ache. 
 
 " Just go upstairs," he said, " and consult your 
 wife. Women are very tender-hearted, and she will 
 be sorry for me. I will take no refusal till you have 
 talked it over with her." 
 
 I knew Susan would think as I did, but I went 
 upstairs to pacify him. Susan was sitting by the
 
 \04 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 fire, and singing in a low voice to her infant as she 
 lulled it to sleep. 
 
 " Harry," she said, "come and look at our treasure; 
 she gets dearer to me every day." 
 
 I stooped to kiss the dimpled face, and for a 
 moment forgot my errand. But this would not do, 
 and I told her what had happened. I was very sorry 
 for Peter. I had half-relented as I went upstairs. 
 But Susan had a stock of prudence to eke out with 
 when mine was gon* 
 
 "On no account, Harry," she said firmly; "we 
 must do nothing of the kind : we have another to 
 care for besides ourselves." 
 
 " I know, I know. I will send the poor fellow 
 away," I replied, turning from her. 
 
 " Stay, Harry, we may be kind if we must be just. 
 We will do all we can for Peter and his wife. If they 
 are turned out of house and home we can give them 
 shelter." 
 
 "But you don't like Mrs. Clarke," I said hastily, 
 and looking back into the room. 
 
 "We must not think of likes and dislikes now," she 
 replied gently, " but of what we can do for them." 
 
 I stepped back and kissed her. I knew the good- 
 ness of her heart, and what a treasure I possessed in 
 Susan. But I was grieved for my old acquaintance, 
 and scarce knew what to say to him. 
 
 He looked up eagerly as I came in, to see what 
 news I was bringing. I think my face told the tale, 
 for he got up hastily and took his hat. 
 
 " All is over with me," he exclaimed. 
 
 I repeated what Susan had said, but he did not
 
 "IF/IAT THE SABBAIII-DREARER CAINS." 105 
 
 pay much attention. He pulled his hat over his eyes 
 and went away. 
 
 I vvas sorry to my heart, and was half-inclined to 
 fetch him back. Ikit Susan's opinion liad weight 
 with me, and I forbore. A few days after, I had 
 occasion to pass the sliop in the Market Place, and 
 found it closed. This part of Peter's career had 
 come to an end. lie was a bankrupt.
 
 '>H-<"^Nf'^ ''■' 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE WATCHWORD OF MY FAMILY. 
 
 i<ojilE next day Susan was about again, 
 as usual, and the home- life went on 
 with its accustomed order and re?u- 
 larity. 
 Indeed, month after month and year 
 after year slipped away with the utmost 
 rapidity. I saw no more at this juncture of Peter 
 Clarke, and I heard that he had left the town. 
 
 At the time of the failure, my wife Avent to the 
 house to offer all the assistance in her power, and to 
 invite Mrs. Clarke to stay with us till affairs should 
 be settled. But the foolish woman refused every 
 overture. She was rude and angry, and said "the 
 misfortune was her husband's fault. She had brought 
 him money, and had a right to enjoy it. It was the 
 worst day's work she ever did, to marry him." And 
 much of this was said before Peter's face. 
 
 io6
 
 THE WATCHWORD OF MV FAMILY. 107 
 
 My wife came away shocked and distressed, and 
 leaving the miserable couple squabbling in the half- 
 empty forlorn room they called the drawing-room, 
 and which had not a particle of comfort about it. 
 
 After that, I went myself; but Peter came to the 
 door and told me he could not ask me in. They 
 were going away, and would be able to pay half a 
 crown in the pound. Even then, a spark of his old 
 boastfulncss was in him, for he talked of liis wife's 
 rich relations, and said he should get them to ad- 
 vance money, and set up in business somewhere else. 
 Whether they did or not I often wondered, but Peter 
 and his wife were now lost to us. 
 
 As years rolled on, I became a thriving, prosperous 
 man. There is an old adage, that a man is to ask his 
 wife how he is to live. The question in my case was 
 fully answered. Susan's thrift and industry helped 
 me forward in every way. I had long ago returned 
 to the old style of furniture, and was treading in 
 Andrew Gibson's steps. Our house of business had 
 a good name both in the town and country. I feel 
 a glow of pride when I think of it — honest pride, I 
 hope, for the success was fairly earned. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins continued our best friends. 
 But Mr. Wilkins, after a time, became more of a 
 sleeping partner than an active one. I lis health was 
 not good, and he began to talk of retiring. It seemed 
 probable that in the end the business would be 
 entirely my own. 
 
 My father and mother were still living; but the 
 toils of labour had ceased, for they had saved enough 
 on which to live in their old age, and were now
 
 lo8 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 reaping the fruits of a life of industry and persever- 
 ance. For the harvest of good is as surely gathered 
 in as the harvest of evil. 
 
 Andrew Gibson had reached a great age, and was 
 tottering on the brink of the grave. But the more 
 nearly he approached his final rest, the more anxious 
 he became about the fate of his son. Whenever I 
 saw him, this was the theme upon which he dwelt. 
 
 Many changes had been brought about by circum- 
 stances. The old place was too small for the business 
 that was now doing, and it was injustice to myself to 
 reside there any longer. By this time, also, the house 
 was strait and narrow. I had six children : and 
 more accommodation was required for our health 
 and comfort. It was proposed to remove to one of 
 the handsome shops in the Market Place, where the 
 business would in all probability be doubled. 
 
 This scheme was well digested before it was put 
 into practice ; and it never would have been thought 
 of had I not by this time been possessed of capital — 
 that bulwark of prosperity. 
 
 But Andrew Gibson shook his head. He had 
 nothing to say against the prudence of the step, or its 
 expediency ; but the idea was still uppermost in his 
 mind that his boy, as he called him, would one day 
 return. " He will come to the old place as sure as 
 can be, and find none but strangers," was his cry. 
 This difficulty, however, was met. When all came to 
 be finally settled, it was thought wise to retain the 
 old premises as a kind of warehouse, in which to 
 store the goods. Our foreman, who filled the place 
 I vacated on becoming partner, was to reside there;
 
 THE WATCHWORD OF MV FAMILY. 109 
 
 and I proposed that the words "Late Gibson" should 
 not be erased from the position they had so long 
 occupied over the door of the shop. This arrange- 
 ment pacified my dear old master. He should die, 
 he said, in peace, if he thought that one kind hand 
 would be stretched out to the wanderer. 
 
 Every time I saw Andrew Gibson I feared it would 
 be the last. On sunshiny days he would sit by the 
 door enjoying the fresh air, for he was cheerful and 
 contented as ever. He could no longer read in the 
 old Bible, for his sight was almost gone ; but Ruth 
 spent much of her time in reading to him, and 
 ministered in every way to his comfort. It was a 
 peaceful ending to a good and pious life. 
 
 " I am not without resource, Harry," he would say, 
 when I paid him a visit, as I often did. " I am very 
 happy. This seems to me the land of Beulah, to 
 w^hich the pilgrims came before they went over the 
 river." And then he would speak of the presence of 
 his Saviour with him day after day, and the light and 
 joy and peace shed abroad in his heart. 
 
 I used to return from these visits more than ever 
 built up in a faith which can thus sanctify the whole 
 life, and cause it to end in peace and the sure hope of 
 coming glory. 
 
 *' This is what religion does," I used to think ; 
 " and nothing can stand in its place, or stretch to its 
 boundless limits. Every other resource or stimulus 
 fails, save only this, which is not of man, but of 
 God." 
 
 My own career had been a striking instance that 
 " Godliness " has the promise of this life and of that
 
 no HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 which is to come. The opposite might have been 
 the case — the counterpart of Peter Clarke's sad 
 experience. I trust I was truly thankful, and re- 
 membered Who had made me to differ. Not of 
 myself could I have climbed these bright steps. No 
 resolutions of my own could have withstood the 
 solicitations of the world and of the tempter. It was 
 the Divine Hand stretched towards me from above, 
 the power given me by the Holy Spirit, which had 
 won for me the victory. Not unto myself but unto 
 God be all the praise. 
 
 The various changes at which I have hinted as 
 likely to happen, took place in due course of time. 
 Mr. Wilkins retired altogether from the business, and 
 the whole concern was in my hands. A new shop 
 was also taken and carefully stocked. The house 
 adjoining it seemed large and handsome to our 
 moderate notions ; but we brought thither the old 
 furniture, making the change as little expensive as 
 we could. It was an airy house, and had a strip of 
 garden behind, and the windows at the back looked 
 over the river. Susan was delighted with her new 
 home, and we settled into it with the greatest com- 
 fort. 
 
 I soon found that the step I had taken was a 
 success, for the business received an impulse, and I 
 sold off my stock more quickly than I expected. My 
 new position raised me up in the social scale, and I 
 took my place in the town as a substantial and 
 thriving tradesman. 
 
 I must not forget to mention that I took care to 
 fix over the fireplace in the sitting-room, so that all
 
 THE WATCHWORD OF MY FAMILY. ni 
 
 who came in might see it, a newly iUunilnated copy 
 of the motto — the watchword, I called it, of my 
 family — 
 
 "Hold fast by your Sundays."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE wanderer's return. 
 
 Y life was now a very busy one. 
 I had a family to bring up, an 
 extensive concern to manage, and 
 public offices to fill in the town 
 where I lived. At this juncture, 
 great watchfulness and care were 
 needed, lest anxiety about worldly matters should 
 choke and hinder the growth of the good seed within ; 
 lest, in passing through things temporal, I should lose 
 the things which were eternal. 
 
 And now, I perceived more and more the value of 
 the Day of Rest. The greatest check to a careless 
 frame of mind wa^ found here. During the sacred 
 hours which intervened between the close of the six 
 days of labour and their beginning again I could 
 pause and reflect. I could obtain, by secret prayer 
 and by public devotion, the strength I needed. Here 
 the Christian armour could be brightened, the weary 
 soul refreshed, and the things which are unseen 
 realized. 
 
 iia
 
 THE WANDERERS RETURN. 113 
 
 Happy Sundays ! I repeat tlie expression, — 
 Happy Sundays ! Bright seasons scattered, like 
 jewels, along my path ! Wells of water in the desert, 
 springing up into everlasting life ! Ever, with God's 
 help, would I hold fast by these ! 
 
 At this period, busy as it was, I used often to 
 ponder over the fate of Andrew Gibson's son ; for the 
 subject was in some sort forced upon me by my old 
 master himself. The nearer he approached his end 
 the more anxious he became to hear some tidings. 
 He made many inquiries, and even inserted advertise- 
 ments in the newspapers, which he hoped might lead 
 to a discovery. But at present all was in vain. Not 
 a scrap of information had been obtained from any 
 quarter. He still clung to the idea that if his son 
 returned he would find his way to the old place of 
 business. The eager questioning look he used to 
 give me when I went to see him was very touching. 
 I would have given much to be able to say, " Yes ; he 
 has come at last ; " but no such thing had occurred, 
 and I could not utter a word. 
 
 As time passed on, I began to give up all hope. 
 " He is dead," I thought, " or if not, he refuses his 
 father's overtures, and will never return." 
 
 Still I was always, to a certain extent, upon the 
 watch. If any forlorn-looking person stopped to 
 look at the old place, and I was there, I noted the 
 circumstance narrowly. I regarded the words, " Late 
 Gibson," as a kind of beacon, and would not have 
 removed them on any account whatever ; but as far 
 as the wanderer was concerned, they seemed to 
 remain there in vain. 
 
 H
 
 C14 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 One Saturday evening, — I well remember it, — iJ- 
 was midwinter, and flakes of snow were beginning to 
 fall, — I had closed my shop, and was enjoying that 
 domestic peace and quietude which had ever been my 
 delight and, I might add, my safeguard. We were all 
 gathered round the cheerful fire. My elder children 
 were reading or working, and the little ones were on 
 my knee. Susan, the careful mother and loving wife, 
 was plying her needle, looking up from time to time 
 on the happy group with a contented smile. 
 
 The doors were closed, as it seemed, against the 
 outer world. But it was not so to be ; the world had 
 not quite done with us. I was summoned out of the 
 room to speak to one of my workmen. 
 
 " Sir," he said, " I thought it right to name it, as 
 you have charged us so often : there has been a 
 shabby-looking person " 
 
 " Well } " I said quickly, for the thought of my old 
 master's son rushed to my mind. 
 
 " He has hung about the place all day," continued 
 the man, "going and coming. I tried to speak to 
 him once, but he moved away as quick as could be, 
 — but not so quick but that I saw him looking at the 
 words. Late Gibson^ as if he wanted " 
 
 " Is he there now } " I asked hurriedly. 
 
 " Happen he may be. He don't seem as if he 
 could find it in his heart to go." 
 
 I put on my great-coat and hat, and stepped hastily 
 back to the sitting-room. Brightly blazed the fire, 
 fcnd the home circle looked more cheerful than ever, 
 But I did not hesitate. If I could only be the means 
 of bringing back the outcast to his home, I cared
 
 THE WANDERERS RETURN. 115 
 
 nothing for the snow and slcct outside. Susan looked 
 up at me inquiringly. 
 
 "Are you going out.''" she said. "What is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " I shall be back very soon," I replied, raising the 
 little 'one in my arms, and kissing it; and then in a 
 few words I told her what had happened. 
 
 The tears were in her eyes. " Oh, go," she said 
 earnestly ; " by all means go ! " 
 
 Susan was not a woman to hold back her husband 
 from doing his duty. There was none of the spirit 
 of weak indulgence about her. 
 
 In a few minutes I was walking down the street, so 
 fast that my companion could scarcely keep up with 
 me. " It may after all be a mistake and a disap- 
 pointment," I thought ; " but no matter. I will not 
 let the slightest chance slip through my fingers, if 
 only for the sake of my dear old master." 
 
 We were soon at the old shop. I walked up and 
 down the street, but could see no one. Indeed, it 
 was so bleak a night that scarcely a dog would care 
 to be abroad. I went into the kitchen and stood by 
 the fire. We agreed to watch, one at the back and 
 the other at the front of the house. There was a 
 great uncertainty as to whether the stranger would 
 come any more that night; but we would give him 
 the chance. " If not," I thought, " I will watch all 
 day to-morrow." 
 
 The snowstorm had a little abated by this time, 
 and as the clouds rolled away, the moon struggled 
 out and threw a feeble ray upon the pavement. I 
 was still standing by the fire, which had been heaped
 
 ?i6 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 up with fuel, when I heard a sound outside the 
 window. Then, close to the glass, I saw a face 
 peering anxiously and timidly in. It was a worn, 
 haggard face, quite unknown to me, but I felt sure 
 by a kind of instinct that it was the face of the poor 
 outcast, Andrew Gibson's son. 
 
 I was on my guard. I stole noiselessly from the 
 house, keeping in the shadow, so that he might not 
 see me. And in a {q\v seconds I was close beside 
 him, — nay, I had hold of his arm. 
 
 " My friend," I said quickly, " who is it that you 
 want ? " 
 
 He seemed alarmed, and would have slunk away, 
 but that I kept my hold. 
 
 " There is no one here," he said at length ; " the 
 people are all dead and gone that I came in search 
 of" 
 
 " Do you mean Andrew Gibson ? " I asked ; " and 
 Ruth .? " 
 
 I felt his arm tremble. He looked at me with an 
 eagerness I shall nev^er forget, but did not speak. 
 
 "Come in," I said, "to the fire. It is too cold 
 standing here outside. I will answer any question 
 you like to ask. I have the business now, and am 
 the master." 
 
 He followed me into the house and sat down by 
 the hearth. He looked thin and ill, and as though 
 he had met with rough usage in the world ; but I 
 felt more than ever convinced he was the man I 
 wanted. 
 
 He would not yield me his confidence as I had 
 hoped. I told him that Andrew Gibson was living
 
 THE WANDERER'S RETURA. 117 
 
 some few miles off, and that Ruth still kept house 
 for him. I spoke as though he knew them as 
 a matter of course ; and in spite of his silence and 
 reserve the expression of his face was not to be mis- 
 taken. Indeed, the tears began to trickle down his 
 face. I was resolved not to let him go. In a 
 moment of fear or shame he might set off and no 
 trace of him be discovered any more. 
 
 It was still early in the evening, for we shut up a 
 couple of hours sooner on a Saturday. I made up 
 my mind what to do. I would solve every doubt 
 and make sure of the matter. I would leave the 
 stranger in charge of my workman, take my good 
 stroncf horse and ride over to Andrew Gibson. A 
 five miles* ride would soon be accomplished, and I 
 should sleep all the sounder after I had consulted 
 Ruth, and heard what she would advise. 
 
 This hasty journey would not have been needed 
 but for the state of my dear old master's health. 
 For the last few weeks he had been sinking fast, 
 and we could hardly reckon on one day after 
 another. How I longed that, before he went to 
 his rest, he might be permitted to embrace his 
 
 son 
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A SUNDAY NEVER TO BE 
 FORGOTTEN, 
 
 HEN I opened the door of my 
 parlour, the same pleasant home- 
 scene again presented itself. I 
 had however been missed, for there 
 was the look of welcome hi every 
 face — ^just the look that is so dear, 
 and that a man likes to meet with by his own 
 fireside. 
 
 " Well, Harry !" said my wife, in a tone of interest, 
 and laying down her work. 
 
 " Well, Susan ! " was my reply. " But no ; I must 
 not sit down," — for she had drawn my chair to the 
 fire, — " I must be off directly." 
 
 " What ! to-night, in the snow ? Is it necessary ? " 
 she asked, anxiously. 
 
 When I told her how it was, she made no opposi- 
 tion. All through our married life we had been as 
 hnsband and wife should be — of one heart and of one 
 
 iiS
 
 A SUNDAY NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN. 119 
 
 mind. Susan felt an attachment to Andrew Gibson, 
 and took a deep interest in the fate of his son. She 
 would not have withheld me from going on any 
 account. And in a very short time I was cantering 
 along at a quick pace towards Andrew Gibson's 
 house. 
 
 He had been kccpnig his bed for the last few days, 
 and there would be no difficulty in seeing Ruth alone. 
 Indeed, to see Ruth alone, was the gist and purport 
 of my visit. 
 
 It was striking nine by the village clock as I rode up 
 the street and opened the gate leading to the house. 
 There were lights in the windows ; and as I wished for 
 the present my visit to be kept secret from Andrew 
 Gibson, I slipped off my horse and proceeded on foot, 
 letting myself quietly into the kitchen. 
 
 I startled Ruth, who was stooping over the fire 
 preparing some kind of food for her uncle ; but I 
 signed to her to be quiet. I had something, I said, 
 that I wished to say privately ; and I beckoned her 
 as noiselessly as I could into a little room at the 
 back, w^here I thought wc could not be heard. It 
 was ever on their minds, this topic of the lost son's 
 return ; and the first word she said, as she closed the 
 door behind us, was, — 
 
 "Have you heard? Do you know anything.-' Is 
 that why you are come } " 
 
 "Ruth," I said eagerly, "tell me whether you 
 should know him again, now all these years have 
 passed .-' " 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " though he was a mere boy 
 when he went away, I should recognise him, I am
 
 I20 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 convinced. I could pick him out among a thousand, 
 let him come home as he might." 
 
 Then I told her what had happened. She listened 
 with the utmost eagerness, and the tears started to 
 her eyes, 
 
 " What are we to do } " I asked her. " What could 
 you advise } " 
 
 " Oh, he must come ! " she exclaimed. " You must 
 bring him, Harry, to-vwrroiv!^ 
 
 She laid an emphasis on the word to-morrow, the 
 reason of which I knew too well. I knew that time 
 was getting short, and death marching on apace. 
 Her uncle was scarcely conscious then, she said, but 
 he might rally once again. 
 
 " Come to-morrow, early," she repeated. " And 
 God grant it may be as we think ! " 
 
 An eventful Sunday that would be, I thought, as I 
 rode home after my interview with Ruth ; but per- 
 haps the happiest in my life, if so be that the prodigal 
 is welcomed to his father's home. 
 
 " My place at church must be vacant.'' Susan 
 smiled as she heard me say so. 
 
 " Yours is a labour of love," she said ; " and though 
 absent from God's house, the Sabbath blessing will 
 be upon you." 
 
 As soon as our early breakfast was over, I had my 
 horse put in the gig and drove to the other end of 
 the town. The stranger had, by my express orders, 
 been carefully watched to the place where he lodged, 
 and a guard kept on his movements. He was sitting 
 by the fireless grate when I entered the room, his 
 face buried in his hands. I had to touch him before
 
 A SUNDAY NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN. 121 
 
 I could rouse his attention. As he looked up, I 
 fancied I could trace a likeness to my dear old 
 master. The expression, it is true, was different ; in 
 the one case it was all peace, in the other disquiet 
 and remorse. One spoke of religion with its plicid 
 and satisfying joys, the other seemed to proclaim 
 that the way of the transgressor is hard. 
 
 "Friend," I said, standing by him, " j-ou wish to 
 see Mr. Gibson ; this is why you lingered about the 
 place yesterday. Well, I will take you to him noivy 
 
 He shrank back with evident reluctance. 
 
 " Noiv" I repeated firmly; "because every day is 
 of importance ; to-morrow may be too late." 
 
 I can scarce recall every particular of the conversa- 
 tion. I know it lasted but a little time; and then 
 he was beside me in the gig, and we were bowling 
 along. 
 
 Just as we quitted the town, I recollect that the 
 Sabbath-bclls rang out through the frosty air. Blessed 
 sound ! I seem to hear it now. It comes upon my 
 ear like the music of another world. 
 
 The weather had cleared up, and the winter sun 
 shone cheerily. We had a silent ride. My com- 
 panion appeared dejected, and at times agitated. As 
 for myself, I was more and more satisfied that God 
 had heard the prayer so long offered in faith and 
 earnestness, and was sending an answer of peace. 
 
 As we approached the house, I got out of the gig, 
 and fastened the horse to a gate. Then I walked 
 forwards, the stranger by my side. I could perceive 
 that he was more and more affected, nay, that he 
 trembled violently. A figure was in the doorway. I
 
 122 HOLD FAST BY YOUR SUNDAYS. 
 
 knew who it was, and that Ruth was on the watch. 
 As soon as she saw us she came to meet us, I shall 
 never forget the suspense of that moment. But it 
 was quickly passed. She gave one searching look at 
 the stranger, and then she took his hand in hers and 
 called him by his name. She had recognised him, as 
 she said she should, in an instant. 
 
 I stepped on before. I thought they might wish to 
 have a few words together : that Ruth might wish to 
 prepare him for what was coming. As I entered the 
 kitchen, a woman who had been assisting to nurse, 
 and who had sat up with the patient, met me. 
 
 " Mr. Gibson is awake, sir," she said, " and wants to 
 see you. He knows you are come, for he heard the 
 sound of the gig." 
 
 I went softly up stairs, my heart full to over- 
 flowing. The same eager wistful look met me as I 
 stood by the bedside. 
 
 " Harry, you must not deceive me. You were here 
 last night, and you are here again this morning. Is 
 it about my boy .'' " 
 
 I took the poor wrinkled hand in mine. I was 
 obliged to proceed with the utmost caution on ac- 
 count of his feebleness, but by degrees I told him 
 everything. One fact after another slipped out, and 
 ere I had finished, I heard voices in the room below. 
 He heard them too. 
 
 " Let him come, Harry, Let him come. I must 
 see him before I die ! " 
 
 And he was dying fast : I saw it in his face. 
 
 I did not return home till night. It was an event- 
 ful Sunday — one that can never be forgotten. It was
 
 A SUNDAY NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN. 123 
 
 the last day that my dear old master had given him 
 to live. For a few hours he rallied, and they were 
 alone — the father and the son. No one cared to 
 break in upon the sacred retirement of an interview 
 such as that. 
 
 He was very happy when at last we were sum- 
 moned to his bedside. Almost with his last breath 
 he repeated the well-known words which were being 
 sung in the village church close by : " Lord, now 
 Icttest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according 
 to Thy word." And in the quiet of that Sabbath 
 evening he entered into rest. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
 Butler &> Tanner, The Sclwood PriiUing Works, Frame, and Loiuion.
 
 A NATIONAL CHURCH OF ENGLAND NEWSPAPER FOR 
 
 THE HOME. 
 
 "Zbc mews:" 
 
 A NATIONAL FIRESIDE JOURNAL AND REVIEW. 
 
 One Penny Weekly. Published every Friday. 16 Pages: 
 Size of "The Graphic." 
 
 The Editorial arrangements are under tlie supervision of the Rev. CHARLES 
 
 Bui.i.oCK, B.D., Editor of //t7W? ll^ords. 
 
 The Literary Staff consists of writers of establislicd reputation. 
 
 RECENT TESTIMONIES, 
 
 The r.ishop of LlVERrooi, writes : — " I heartily wish success to The News." 
 
 The Bishop of Ossory writes : — " The Neivs is just the kind of newspaper calcu- 
 lated to diffuse a healthy tone amongst the people." 
 
 The Dean Designate of Norwich writes : — " I welcome The Neivs, not only as a 
 witness to the power of a great and bygone crisis, but as an evidence that domestic 
 religion, as well as public and religious opinion, are still generated, fostered, and 
 encouraged by the principles which are nearest just now to our hearts." 
 
 Canon Bell writes:^" The articles in The News are high in tone, and keep 
 abreast of the discoveries and topics of the day." 
 
 Canon Christopher writes : — "The News is full of facts of interest ; full of sugges- 
 tive practical remarks ; full of the news of the day ; and the truth is ably enforced 
 in plain English words and in lucid style." 
 
 Canon BuRBiDGE writes : — "The News combines sound teaching with an immense 
 variety of information. It is printed on excellent paper ; gives i6 pages ; and is sold 
 for one penny. What more can be required 1" 
 
 The Rev. Handlev C. G. Moule writes ;— "The News has my warm and earnest 
 God-speed." 
 
 Canon McCoRMicK writes : — "I am delighted with The News, and most heartily 
 wish it had an entrance into every home, rich and poor, in the land. The style of 
 writing is clear, the matter interesting and valuable, and the principles, political, 
 moral, and religious, are those which have made England great and which alone can 
 keep her great." 
 
 The Rev. W. Odom writes : — " I am getting The News into the homes of our 
 people, and intend in ne.\t month's Home Words to recommend it to them." 
 
 London; "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.G.
 
 HOME MAGAZINES. 
 
 :cv. Charles Bullock, R.D., Author of "E 
 Hume," etc. 
 
 "Excellent, and wonderfully cheap."— T"//^ Times. 
 
 EUitcd l.y the Rev. Charles Bullock, R.D., Author of "England's Foyal 
 
 Hume," etc. 
 
 THE FIRESIDE 
 
 J.;W. I THR KIRKSIDK r°vr- 
 
 PICTORIAL MAGAZINE. 
 
 w Permanently Enlarged to 80 Pages. 
 ♦,* " TiiK Firkside" Magazine lias completed Its Twenty-sixth Anni:-»1 
 Vdlunic. '1 hose who are not already Siihscrihcrs to the Magazine will find the 
 XiTAi I'oliiiiie a most suitable Home (lift. It contains— in addition to other 
 Serial Works- FOUR SERIAL TALES : 
 
 I. BEHIND THE VEIL. liy Emily S. Holt. 
 
 II. GOLDEN SILENCE ; or, The Blrkott Family. F.y E.mma Marshall. 
 
 1 1 1. A MARTYR FOR CHRIST, lly the Author of " The Romance of Truth." 
 
 iV UNDER CURRENTS; or, A Life's Mistake. By the Author of 
 
 " Hold Fast by Your Sundays." 
 
 Published sef'ariitely, these Tales wouLt cost probably Twelve Shillings. 
 
 The FiKESioE Annual itself is sold for -js. 6d. 
 
 The wider its circulation, the greater the gain to the public." 
 
 The Bishop of Rochester. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Monthly 
 
 HOME WORDS. 
 
 Now Volume, 
 
 23. 
 
 ___^__ " ' Home Words ' that will do the heart 
 
 good and' make the hearth bright."— Late Rev. W. Pennefathek. 
 
 •»• Home ll'ords for 1S89 contains a New Tale by Agnes Giber.ne, 
 entitled — 
 
 " LEAST SAID, SOONEST MENDED." 
 
 Adapted for Localization. Graiits 0/ any Number. Free Specimen to 
 any Clergyman. 
 
 THE DA Y OF DA YS is a companion Sunday Magazine to HOME WORDS. 
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Monthly. 
 
 It is hard to believe, on turning over the 
 
 New Volume, 
 2s. 
 
 pages, that it is sold at so low a price." — Church Sunday School Magazine. 
 
 Id. 
 
 Monthly. 
 
 HAND AND HEART. 
 
 A FAMILY, SOCIAL, & TEMPERANCE JOURNAL. 
 
 New Volume, 
 2s. 
 
 " We always turn to ' Hand and Heart ' with real pleasure."— T/i^? Graphic. 
 " Popular in the truest and best sense of the word." — Daily Telegraph. 
 *«• A Specimen Copy of each of these Magazines will be sent free to any 
 Clerg)'maa by the Manager. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.C
 
 "Home Words" New Publications. 
 
 t^ew Edition. In handsome hindiiig, uiitahle for Wedditi? Presentation, y.dd. 
 
 BRIDESMAID AND BRIDE. 
 
 By Mrs. Johnson (Daughter of die late Dr. M'Caul), Author of " Hints to 
 Untrained Teachers," etc. 
 
 Sir Howard Elphinstone writes : " I am directed to state that Her Roj-al 
 HJLjhness the Duchess of Connaught lias great pleasure in accepting the copy of 
 ' The Bride Elect,' by Mrs. Johnson." 
 
 " A truly bridal volume. An elegant and useful wedding gift." — Record. _ 
 
 " A book to give a strong sense of responsibility, and to stir up the energies. 
 We should like to see it much read and much heeded." — Gita7dian, 
 
 " Mrs. Johnson's clever book is full of excellent hints and ideas. We make a 
 somewhat long extract, as we consider it a remarkable and praiseworthy attempt 
 to reduce women's dress to a system." — The Queen. 
 
 Kow Ready, Second Thousand, in rich cloth, bevelled, -with Portraits and 
 
 Illustrations, 6s, 
 
 RECORDS OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 REV. WM. H. HAVERGAL, M.A. 
 
 Ey his Daughter, Jane jMiriam Crane. 
 
 " ' Yet speaketh ! ' In the memory of those 
 To whom he was indeed 'a living song.' " 
 
 — Frances Ridley Havergal. 
 "Canon Havergal was no ordinary man. He was rich in grace as well as rich 
 in gifts. 'Who could see him and not love him?' asked a brother pastor, his 
 friend for many years. The readers of 'The Memorials of Frances Ridley 
 Havergal' will remember how intense was her veneration for her loved father ; 
 and these p.iges will show how justly he held the highest place in the affections 
 of all who knew him. I'he Liography is admirably written, and gives charming 
 word-pictures of home and parish life. The Illustrations include a portrait 'rom 
 a painting by S. Cole, and another from a bust taken by Robert Pauer, of 
 Creuznach. Engravings are also given of Astley Church, and St. Nicholas' 
 Church, Worcester." — The Church Standard. 
 
 NEW BOOKS FOR HOME GIFTS. 
 
 III. 
 
 A^ow Ready, cloth gilt, is. 
 
 The Home Songster. 
 
 Selected and Arranged by the Rev. 
 Charles liuLLOCK, B.D., Editor 
 of " Home Words," etc. 
 
 " Designed to promote Music in the 
 Home." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Handsome cloth, levelled, gilt, 5 J. 
 
 Old Oscar: 
 
 The Faithful Dog. 
 By H. G. Reid. 
 
 " The circulation of ' Old Oscar,' in 
 various forms, has already reached the 
 number of about 500,000 copies. It is 
 fally equal to ' Raband his Friends.' " 
 — The Fireside News. 
 
 Now ready, Neiu Edition, in rich 
 cloth, levelled, witli Illustrations, 
 price 5i. 
 
 Daysprlng : 
 
 A Story of the Time of William 
 I'yndale. 
 
 I!y Emma Marshall, Author of 
 " Mrs. Haycock's Chronicles," etc. 
 
 "A delightful and most attractive 
 volume." — Bishop of Gloucester, 
 
 II. 
 
 Rick cloth, bevelled, with Illustra- 
 tiotis. Price $s. 
 
 The Nameless Shadow. 
 
 By Aones Giderne, Author of 
 "Sun, Moon, and Stars," etc. 
 
 London : "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.G.
 
 ROYAL BOOKS. 
 
 Works by tho Rov. CHARLES BOLLOCK, B.D., Author of " The Way 
 Home," Editor of "Tho Firosido" Magazine, "Homo Words," etc. 
 
 I. Oiti: IhiiidnU and Fi/tietli Thousand. Nmu ready, on Jine faj'cr riclity 
 bound, price ss. bd. Also, cloth gilt, if. (at. 
 
 he Contents include : — 
 
 I. 'J'lic (Jiicen's Jubilee Year. 
 II. Karly Days. 
 
 III. 'i'lie Coronation. 
 
 IV. Home Life. 
 
 V. The Koyal Children. 
 VI. The Hume- at li.dinoral. 
 
 VII. The Queen's Visit to Cornwall. 
 VIII. Sorrow in the Hniiic. 
 
 IX. The Queen's Journ.il in ths 
 Highlands. 
 X. Fifty Years Ago. 
 XI., XII. Koyal Anecdotes and 
 IjiciJcnts. 
 
 WITH MANY PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 " ' The Queen's Resolve ' has achieved a gigantic success. No scholar should 
 bo without a Copy." — Church Sunday School Magazine. 
 
 " A jubilee memorial of unusual excellence." — J he Fublishcrs Circular, 
 
 " Ought to find its way into countless homes." — Cauietliury Journal. 
 
 " I'Vom end to end it teems with interest." — Rydc and Isle of ll'if;ht Nc7vs. 
 
 " A handsome ornament on any drawing-room table." — linglish Churchman. 
 
 " It was presented to Her Majesty on her birthday, and the author has 
 received a letter expressing the Queen's thanks." — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 A SEQUEL TO «'THE QUEEN'S RESOLVE." 
 
 II. A'<'7t» Ready. Fifth Thousand. Cloth gilt, richly hound. Illustrated, 
 li. td. 
 
 The Royal Year: 
 
 A Chronicle of "OUR GOOD QULEN'S JUIULEE." 
 
 With more tlian Thirty Illustrations. 
 
 •»* M.ajor-Gcneral Ponsonby writes : — " The Queen is much pleased with the 
 
 ' Royal Xi^s.'c.''"— Balmoral, Nov. sth, 1SS7. 
 
 III. Now ready. Sixth Thousand, iit rich cloth gilt. Seventeen Illustrations. 
 
 "We may safely predict a considerable share of popularity for 'England's 
 Royal Home,' by the Editor of Home Words." — 'I he Graphic. 
 Rei'Rinted from "England's Roval Hcme." 
 
 IV. Kc-M Edition, Fourth Thousand, in rich cloth gilt, with Portrait, 
 
 price 2S. 6d. 
 
 "THE HOME LIFE OF THE PRINCE CONSORT." 
 
 " It is well that this beautiful picture of domestic happiness in high places 
 should be brought within the reach of a large circle of readers." — The Guardian. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Pateknoster Square, E.G. 
 
 3
 
 NEW BOOKS-NOW READY. 
 
 By the Rev. CHARLES liULLOCK, R.D., Editor of Home Words, etc., 
 formerly Rector of St. Nicholas', Worcester. 
 
 I. Second Thousand. Ik rich cloth gilt, with Portrnits, ^s. 
 
 THE CROWN OF THE ROAD : Leaves from Consecrated Lives. 
 
 I. Sir J. Y. Simpson, the Man of Science the Man of God. II. Charles Pettit 
 Mcllvaine, D.D., the Apostolic Bishop. III. Frances Ridley Havergal, the 
 Sweet Singer. IV. Lord Hatherley, the Christian Statesman. V. W. Weldon 
 Champneys, the Earnest Worker. VI. William Henry Havergal, the Faithful 
 Pastor. VII. Elizabeth Prentiss, a Daughter of Consolation. 
 
 "This delightful book Calls for our glad and earnest commendation." — The 
 Churchman. 
 
 " We commend this volume with all our heart. It would be difficult to select 
 a septett of modern Christians in which both the variety and unity of the life of 
 grace should be better illustrated. The author of ' The Crown of the Road ' has 
 w ritten much, and always well, but we know not when he has deserved better 
 of us in a book than in this contribution to that precious and fruitful branch of 
 Christian literature, the ' Lives of the (not legendary) Saints.' " — Tlie Record. 
 
 II. Second Tlionsand. In bevelled cloth, gilt edges, loith Illustration, is. dd. 
 
 THE FORGOTTEN TRUTH ; or, The Gospel of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 With Selected Hymns of the Spirit. 
 
 Contents. 
 
 Chap. I.— The Forgotten Truth. Chap. II.— The Church's Need : or, The 
 
 Brethren Intreated. Chap. III. — The Quenching of the Spirit. 
 
 HVMNS OF THE SPIRIT CONTRIIiUTED BV 
 
 The Rev. Ray Palmer, D. D. Frances Ridley Havergal. Rev. T. Davis. 
 Rev. S. J. Stone. Lishop Wordsworth. Rev. R. Wilton. Christina Forsyth. 
 Rev. Horatius lionar, D.D. Dean Stanley. Rev. Godfrey Thring. Rev. C. 
 H. Spurgeon. Rev. Charles liullock, B.D. 
 
 " I have heard many sermons on the love of the Father, and the love of the 
 Son, but never one on ' the love of the Spirit.' Is not this truth sadly for- 
 gotten ? "—Pre/ace. 
 
 " We heartily recommend this thoughtful and thoroughly spiritual treatise." — 
 The Churchman. 
 
 III. Second Thousand. In levelled cloth gilt, toned paper, with Frontispiece, 
 
 3i. (>d. 
 
 THE BEST WISH. 
 
 Contents. — i. The Best Wish. 2. Songs in the Night. 3. The Gospel of 
 the Holy Ghost. 4. The Bright Light in the Clouds. 5. The Trinity. 6. 
 'I'he Quenching of the Spirit. 7. St. Andrew. 8. Christian E.xperience. 9. 
 The Census. 10. Missionary Intercession. 11. Decision for God. 12. Fiery 
 Trials. 13. A Nation's True Gratitude. 14. The Palm Tree. 13. Harvest 
 Lessons. 16. God's Kingdom. 17. The Ability of God. 18. Parting Words. 
 
 " Worthy of the author of ' The W.ay Home.' " — Record, 
 "A high religious tone." — Rock. 
 
 *«* Parents who pray for and with their children, often wish to help them to 
 pray for themselves. — " The Parents' Gift" is designed to afford such help. 
 
 IV. In cloth gilt, with Frontispiece, price 2S. 6d. 
 
 THE PARENTS' GIFT. 
 
 A Help to Early Prayer and Praise. 
 
 "Calculated to supply a distinct want; and, what is more important, to 
 supply it effectually." — Church Sunday School Teachers' Magazine. 
 
 London : "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.G. 
 
 4
 
 The GLOBE says: " For household reading, the books Issued from 
 •Home Words' Office are unrivalled for purity of thought and ele- 
 vation of tone." 
 
 "HOME WORDS" PRIZE AND GIFT BOOKS. 
 
 From Flue Shillings to One Shilling. 
 
 At 5s. each. 
 
 Old Oscar: the Faithful Dog. 15y 11. G. Rrid. Illustrated after original 
 
 skfttches by Landseer. Wilkie. and Weir, in the possession of the Author. 
 
 " It is as interesting as ' Rnb and His Friends.' " — C/iurc/i Slatidard. 
 
 Daysprlng. A Story of the Time of William Tyndale. By Emma Marshall. 
 
 Extra cloth gilt, with Illustrations. 
 The Nameless Shadow, By Agnbs Gibernb. Cloth, extra gilt, with Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 At 3s. Cd. each. 
 The Romance of the London Directory. Uy the Rev. C. W. Bardslsy, 
 
 M..\. Kichly bound in cloth, with Frontispiece. 
 Bridesmaid and Bride ; or, The Bride Elect. By Mrs. Johnson. In white 
 
 or blue cloth, extra cilt ed;;es, with Frontispiece. 
 "My Bible Study." For the Sundays of the Year. By the Lite Frances 
 Ridley Havergal. Richly bound in leatherette, with two Illustrations. 
 
 At 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Fables for "You." By Eleanor B. Prosser. With Illustrations designed 
 by S. C. PiiNNEFATHER. In rich cloth gilt. 
 
 " Spaclmen Glasses " for the King's Ministrels. By the late Frances 
 
 RiDi.KY Havekcal. Cloth gilt, with Portraits. 
 Fireside Tales and Sketches. By Agnes Giberne, and other Authors. 
 
 Richly bound, cloth, with Frontispiece. 
 Hold Fast by YourSundays. By the Authorof " Margaret's Choice." CI. gilt. 
 Puzzledom : for Fireside Amusement. By One of the Old Boys. With a 
 
 Preface by the Editor oi Home Words, etc. Richly bound, cloth. 
 Many Things. By the liev. Charles Bullock, B. D. Richly bound, cloih gilt. 
 Stephen Malnwaring's Wooing. With other talcs. By Emi'lv S. Holt, 
 
 E. Gaknett, E.m.ma Marshall, etc. Rich cloth gilt, with Frontispiece. 
 
 At. 2s. each. 
 From India's Coral Strand. Hymns of Christian Faith. By Ellen Lakshmi 
 
 GoREH, a Brahmin Lady. In rich cloth, with Illustrations. 
 " The Day of Days." The New Volume. Cloth extra, witii Illustrations. 
 " Home Words." The New Volume. With Illustrations. Cloth extra. 
 "Hand and Heart." The New Volume. Cloth, with Illustrations. 
 
 At Is. 6d. each. 
 "Our Folks." By AoNES GiBERNR. Cloth gilt. Illustrated with 40 Portraits. 
 Pithy Proverbs Pointed. By the Rev. Dr. James. With 14 Illustrations. 
 ".Can Nothing be Done ? " The Story of Robert Raikes. By the Rev. 
 Charles Bullock, 1!.D. Bevelled cloth gilt. 
 
 At Is. each. 
 Footprints and Living Songs. By Frances Ridley Havbrgal. Edited by 
 
 the Rev. Charles Billock, B.D. Cloth gilt, with Portraits. 
 The Temperance Witness-box. By the Rev. Charles Bl-llock, B.D. 
 " One of the most concise books on Temperance I have ever read." — Dr. B. 
 IV. Richardson, F.K.S. 
 
 Who gave us the Book? or, England's Debt to William Tyndale. By 
 
 the same Author. Cloth gilt, lllustrate'l. 
 Echoes from the Word: For the Christian Year. By the late Frances 
 
 RiDi.EY Havergal. Richly bound, cloth gilt. 
 The Sunday-School Gift. A Help to Early Prayer and Praise. By the Rev. 
 
 Charles Bullock, B.D. Cloth gilt, with 2 Illustrations. 
 Please send /or a Catalo^ie. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.G. 
 
 S
 
 WORKS BY THE LATE FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL 
 
 PUBLISHED AT 
 
 "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, PATERNOSTER SQUARE. E.C. 
 
 Now ready. Second Thousand, cloth ^It, with Portraits, price ar. td. 
 "SPECIMEN-GLASSES" FOR THE KING'S 
 MINSTRELS. 
 
 COKTIiNTS. 
 
 Chap. 
 VI. Hymns of Joy. 
 VII. Hymns for Sufferers. 
 VIII. HymnsforSuflrcrers(C(?«i'/«M<^. 
 IX. Seven Clerical Hymn Writers. 
 X. Mission Hymns. 
 XI. Mission Hymns (^continued). 
 
 Chap. Prefatory Note. — Introductory. 
 I. The Rev. W. Pennefather's 
 
 Hymns. 
 II. Charlotte Elliott's Hymns. 
 III. Dean Alford's Hymns. 
 IV. Bishop Wordsworth's Hymns. 
 V. Hymns by Charitie Lees Smith 
 and Mary JJouly. 
 
 Tenth Thousand, cloth gilt, with Portrait and Illustration 0/ Astley Church 
 and the Rectory, price is, 
 
 II. ECHOES FROr/I THE WORD : for the Christian Year. 
 
 Advent. I Epiphany. I Easter. I Wliitsuntide, 
 
 Christmas. | Lent. | Ascension. | Trinity. 
 
 " Ought to be as popular as ' Keble's Christian Year.' " — T/ie Fireside News. 
 
 Third Thousand, leatherette gilt, with Illustrations, price y. 6d, 
 
 III. MY BIBLE STUDY, for the Sundays of the Year. 
 
 A fac-simile memorial of F.R.H. 
 %• A printed Edition can now be had for i*. 
 
 Fiftieth Thousand, with Illustration, price id. 
 IV. WAYSIDE CHIMES: for the Months of the Year. * 
 
 Sixtieth Thousand, with Illustration, id. 
 
 V. "HIM WITH WHOM V/E HAVE TO DO." 
 
 Written by F.R.H. shortly before her death, for the January Number of 
 
 The Day of Days. 
 
 MUSIC FOR FESTIVALS, ETC. 
 
 By the late FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 
 
 I. " O'ER THE PLAINS " : a Christmas Carol. 
 
 Words by the Rev. W. J. Vernon, B.A. 
 
 II. "THE GOOD OLD CHURCH OF ENGLAND." 
 
 Words by the Rev. W. Elake Atkin-son. 
 
 III. "GOD BLESS THE BOYS OF ENGLAND." 
 
 Words by the Rev. Dr. Maguire. 
 Price yi. each ; but quantities supplied at a great reduction, on application at 
 the Publishing Office. 
 
 Also Second Thousand, cloth gilt, with Portrait. Price is. 
 
 "FOOTPRINTS AND LIVING SONGS. 
 Edited by the Rev. Charles Bullock, B D. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.C. 
 
 6
 
 WORKS BY THE REV. CHARLES BULLOCK, B.D., 
 
 Formerly Rector of St. Nicholas', Worcester. 
 
 New and Cheaper Edition. 
 Suitable for Missions, Conjirination Candidates, Etc. 
 
 "THE WAY HOME"; 
 An Earthly Story with a Heavenly Meaning. 
 
 Stvenly-fi/th Thousand, fn Fotirteen Cliapters, ctcih hoards, loiHi Illustra- 
 tions, designed by S. C. Peunefather. Price is. 6d. 
 
 The Volume, which h.is already passed through Six Editions, was originally 
 issued' at the price of 3J. 6d. It is now, in an ilhisirated and more attractive 
 form, sold {ax One Shilling and Sixpence ; furnishing an example of \.\\c possible 
 cheapness of books, if they can be printed in numl.-ers corresponding with the 
 circulation of our popular Magazines. The publisher will be glad to forward a 
 Specimen Copy, free by post, to any address on receipt of eighteen stamps. 
 
 As a book suitable for Confirmation Candidates, it can be supplied to the 
 Clergy on special terms for 50 or 100 copies. 
 
 NEW BOOKS FPR HOME LIFE. 
 
 I. — Fifth Thousand. Paper Cozers, 
 
 3rf. ; Cloth, (nl. 
 
 By the Editor of Home Words. 
 
 "COURTSHIP," 
 
 FOR ALL WHO INTEND TO GET MARRIED. 
 
 The Sword and Trowel says: — 
 "This is a lively three-pennyworth. 
 We do not wonder that it is in its fifth 
 thousand ; if only one-tenth of those 
 to whom it is addressed would buy it, 
 what a sale it would have ! If the 
 author's advice is followed, there will 
 be none to say, that courtship is bliss, 
 but marriage is blister.' " 
 11.— .Vow re^uly. Paper Covers, 
 price 6d. ; cloth limp, is. 
 THE HOME SONGSTER. 
 Selected by the Editor of Home 
 Words. 
 III. -COLLECTS FOR HOME 
 WORSHIP ; With selected Hymns. 
 Cloth, 6,/. 
 IV.— THE BEST WISH. Second 
 'I'housand. Cloth gilt, 3J. 61/. 
 V. — AVif Ready. Cloth gilt, many 
 Hlustrations, 2S. 
 
 "SOMETHING NEW." 
 
 Anrcdotes for the Yonng Folks all tha 
 Year Round. Fifteen Art Illustrations. 
 " Will be found a great help on 
 ' Happy Sunday.' All Preachers and 
 Teachers should obtain it." — Revieiv. 
 VI. — Now Ready. Cloth gilt, with 
 
 Pot' ait. 2,c. 
 "THE MAN OF SCIENCE 
 
 THE MAN OF GOD.;' 
 Leaves from the Life of Sir J.^mes Y. 
 Simpson. 
 
 PENNY BOOKS. 
 
 l.-FOR SUNDAY 
 SCHOOL GIFTS. 
 
 Eilition (y 100,000 Co/'ies for Sunday 
 School Festival Gifts. Price id, 
 
 "I Did Try": 
 
 The Story of a Grain of Mustard 
 Seed. 
 
 The Bishop of Bedford writes :— "I 
 think it may be most useful, and will 
 do all in my power to make it known." 
 
 The Bishop of Carlisle writes : — " I 
 was much interested by the account 
 it contains of Mr. Raikes. I shall be 
 happy to mention the book as I have 
 opportunity." 
 
 The Bishop of Gloucester and 
 Bristol writes : — " I shall gladly try 
 to disseminate it." 
 
 11. 
 
 -FOR TEMPERANCE 
 
 SOCIETIES. 
 
 Now ready, Twentyfifth Thousand, 
 id. 
 
 The Temperance 
 Witness-box. 
 
 Compiled by the Rev. Charles 
 
 Bullock, B.D. 
 " One of the most concise books on 
 Temperance I have read." — Dr. B. 
 W. Kicliardson. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS' 
 
 OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.C. 
 7
 
 "HOME WORDS" PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 In rich doth, gilt. 3^. dd. 
 
 I. BISHOPS AND CLERGY. Edited by the Rev. Charles 
 
 Bullock-, B.D. Portraits drawn from Photographs by T. D. ScoTT, and 
 engraved by R. & E. Taylor. 
 
 II. TRUE AND STRONG; or, Mark Heywood's Work. 
 
 With other Home Tales. By Mrs. Marshall, is. 6d. 
 " Mrs. Marshall's hand is well skilled in delineating scenes of joy or sorrow, 
 brightness or gloom." — Record. 
 
 III. MRS. HAYCOCK'S CHRONICLES. A Tale of Life 
 
 Service. By Mrs. Marshall, Author of "True and Strong," etc., etc. 
 
 3S. 6d. 
 
 "Very good." — Church and Home. 
 
 Elegantly bound in cloth, is. 6d.: infancy boards, is. 6d. 
 
 IV. PITHY PROVERBS POINTED. By the Rev, S. B. 
 James, M.A., with Fourteen Illustrations by S. C. Pennefather. 
 
 " A seasonable gift book." — Daily Telegraph. 
 "Short, amusing, and instructive papers." — Record. 
 
 " We have not enjoyed a book for a long time as we have \}tM%."— Church and 
 Home. 
 
 Handsome cloth, bevelled, gilt, price zs. 6d. Cheap Edition, price is. 6d. 
 
 V. OUR FOLKS. John Churchill's Letters Home. By 
 
 Agnes Gibekke, Author of " Sun, Moon, and Stars," " Tim Teddington's 
 Dream," etc. This unique volume contains forty Portraits of "Folks "in 
 "Our Village," drav, n by Cheret, and engraved in the first style of art by 
 J. D. Cooper. 
 
 iVozv Ready, Second Thousand, cloth gilt, with Frontispiece, is. 6d. 
 
 PUZZLEDOM: for Fireside Amusement. By One of 
 THE Old Boys. With a Preface by the Rev. Charles Bullock, B.D., 
 Editor of Home Words, etc. 
 "This is a capital collection of Charades, Conundrums, Acrostics, Enigmas, 
 and other fireside jimusements for winter evenings. The Editor oi Home Words 
 in the Preface writes forcibly on the subject of popular recreation. We com- 
 mend his remarks to the attention of parents, and especially of our clerical 
 brethren." — Record. 
 
 TRACTS FOR THE PEOPLE, 
 
 I. Now Ready, price id. 
 
 Nursing : for Artis.ins and 
 Homes, in three chapters. By 
 Mrs. W. E. Gladstone. 
 
 " Mrs. Gladstone is great in the 
 'politics of Home ' — the most important 
 politics of all." — The Fireside News. 
 
 II. Second Tliousand. Now Ready, 
 
 The S.P.C.K. and Sceptical 
 
 Doubts. 
 "Able and valuable."— T'/m' Record. 
 
 By the Editor of " Home Words." 
 III. Now Ready. Packet, 6d. 
 
 Songs of Cheer for Hours 
 
 of Pain. By the Rev. Charles 
 Bullock, B.D. 
 Suitable for Distribution to Suffer- 
 ers, and in Hospitals and Infirmaries. 
 
 IV. Fifteenth Thousand, price id. 
 
 The Forgotten Truth ; or, 
 
 The Gospel of the Holy Ghost. 
 V. Third Thousand, price id. 
 
 Decision for God : Words of 
 
 Counsel for Young Men. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Paternoster Square, E.C 
 
 8
 
 Sunbnn .School |1rcscntafion Dodimes. 
 
 By the Rev. CHARLES BULLOCK, B.D., Author of "The Way 
 Home," Editor of '" Home Words," etc. 
 I. A BOOK FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHERS, And Other 
 ' Christian W'orkkrs. 
 
 Fifth Thousand, beuelkd doth, gilt, price \s. 6d. 
 " CAN NOTHING BE DONE ? " The Story of Robert Raikes. A Pica for 
 tl^e Masses. 
 "Can Nothing be Done?" is suggestive and entertaining ; every page bears 
 evidence of the strong hand and warm heart of its author. Both within and 
 without it is a worthy memento of the centenary of Robert Raikes." — 'J'/ie 
 Sword and Trowel. 
 
 "Simple and attractive. We hope ' Can Nothing be Done?* will have a 
 large circul.ition. 1 he lessons taught by the story of Robert Raikes are applied 
 to present day needs." — The Church Sunday School Magazine. 
 
 " Should be in the hands of every Sunday-school teacher in the kingdom." — 
 Gloucester Mercury. 
 
 " Comprehensive, terse, and attractive. A very practical discussion." — 
 National Church. 
 
 II. A BOOK FOR SUNDAY SCHOLARS. 
 
 Fiftieth Thousand, cloth gilt, price 6d. 
 "WHAT DO WE OWE HIM?" Robert Raikes; or. The Story of the 
 Gr.iin of Mustard Seed. With Portrait and other Illustrations. 
 " Will be heartily welcomed, and eagerly rc3.d."— Irish Church Advocate. 
 
 III. A DEVOTIONAL BOOK FOR SUNDAY SCHOLARS. 
 
 Fifth Thousand, cloth gilt, with Illustration, " God is Love," pn'ce is. 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL GIFT. A Help to Early Prayer and Praise. 
 
 '• Would it not be a good plan if each Sunday-school teacher were to make a 
 point to ascertain whether their scholars do really pray night and morning, and 
 of what their prayers consist ? Perhaps some will be startled by the result." — 
 'I'/ie Church Suntlay School Magazine. 
 
 IV. In coloured cozier, with Frontispiece. Price yl. ; cloth, 6d. 
 THE OLIVE LEAF ; Or, Prayers for the Little Ones. 
 
 Co.VTENTS. 
 
 1. Morning and Evening Prayers. I 3. Prayers in Time of Sickness. 
 
 2. Sunday Prayers. I 4. Prayers Before Reading the Bible. 
 
 V. A HOME BOOK. 
 Second Thousand. In tez'elled cloth gilt, toned paper, with Frontispiece, 
 
 2s. e,d. 
 
 WORDS OF MINISTRY. 
 Contents. 
 
 1. The Beloved Disciple. 
 
 2. Elijah. 
 
 3. The Ministering Wo- 
 
 men at the Cross. 
 
 4. The Three Professors. 
 
 5. Martha. 
 
 11. Christmas Invitation. 
 
 12. Jacob's Retrospect of 
 
 Life. 
 
 13. \ Family Worship, its 
 
 14. i Divine Obligation 
 
 and Exercises. 
 
 6. Rebekah's Tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 7. Have Faith in God. 
 
 8. The Gain of Godliness, 
 g. Christian Usefulness. 
 10. Charity. 
 
 " A most practical and profitable work." — The Christian Treasury (Dr. BonarV 
 "This attractively got-up volume, by the author of ' The Way Home,' ' The 
 
 Parents' Gift,' and other well-known works, is well suited in every way for a 
 
 home gift." — Record. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Patbrnoster Square, E.C. 
 
 9
 
 Works by the Rev. CHARLES BULLOCK, B.D. 
 
 I. 
 POPULAR RECREATION 
 
 (A Church Congress Paper) ; and The Theatre as It Is. is. 6ti. 
 
 " We have provided for the working classes work, churches, schools, but 
 have left it to the devil to find them recreation." — The late Canon Miller. 
 
 II. 
 
 " The hinge upon which the whole question between Catholics [Roman] and all 
 who dissent from them turns." — Pope Pius IX. (4th Sept., 1869). 
 
 Cloth gilt, 2S. Fourth and enlarged Edition. 
 
 "WHAT CHURCH?" AND "THE ONLY 
 FAITH AND FOLD." 
 
 Romanism and Anglicanism Tested. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP MANNING. 
 
 Reviews of the First Edition. 
 
 " Such is the promise of this important and seasonable work — a promise which 
 we need hardly say is amply redeemed. From first to last, without circun;;ocu- 
 tion, and without digression, the argument is carried on with cumulative force to 
 its irresistible conclusion." — Record. 
 
 "We shall be surprised if ' What Church ?' does not bring forth a rejoinder; 
 but whoever replies had better be careful of his statements." — Public O/inion. 
 
 TALES FOR THE HOME. 
 
 I. Now Ready, cloth gilt, 3^. dd. 
 
 HIS GRANDFATHER'S BIBLE: 
 
 A Tale of Furness Fells. 
 
 By the Rev. C. Wareing Bakdslev, M.A., Author of "The Romance of 
 the London Directory " 
 
 II. Now Ready, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 
 
 LOYALLY LOVED; and LOST AND FOUND. 
 
 Two Tales by Mrs. Garnett, Author of " Little Rainbow." 
 
 111. Second Thousand, cloth gilt, 2S. 6d. 
 
 THE TWO HOMES: A Story of Life Discipline. 
 
 By Emma Marshall, Author of " Mrs Haycock's Chronicles," 
 " Mrs. Willoughby's Octave," etc. 
 
 IV. Second Thousand, rich cloth gilt, with Frontispiece, 2J. ()d. 
 
 STEPHEN MAINWARING'S WOOING, 
 
 With other Tales. 
 
 By EuiLV S. Holt, Emma Marshall, E. Garnett, 
 C. Wareing Bardsley, M.A. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7, Pati;i;noster Square, E.C. 
 
 10
 
 "HOME WORDS" NEW GIFT BOOKS. 
 
 By the Rev. Charles Bullock, B D., Udkor of Ho/ne IVords, Etc 
 
 "The Visible Rhetoric of a Holy Life"— Heriert. 
 I. Nmv Reativ, cloth gilt, with Portrait, is. 
 "THE MAN OF SCIENCE, THE MAN OF GOD." Leaves from the Life of 
 Sir James Y. Simpson. _ _ _ 
 
 " Sir James Simpson, preeminently a man of science, found in Christianity 
 the ail-siniplc and the all-sufTicient faith which sustains and gladdens life, and 
 gives a child-like confidence in death ; and in reading these pages- to quote his 
 own words respecting; that ' grand and gifted old philosopher. Sir David 
 Brewster,' — we hope 'his spirit may beckon on many of the votaries of literature 
 and science along that path which he so gloriously trod upwards, and heaven- 
 wards, and Christwards.' " 
 
 II. A Hook of Sympatiiv for Home Sorrowers. 
 HEART CHEER FOR HOME SORROW. Selected by the Editor of The Fire, 
 side. Third Thousand. Cloth gilt, red edges, price \s. 
 "Guards against precipitating consolation." — Revinu. 
 
 III. Notv ready, cloth gilt, many Illustrations, is. 
 " SOMETHING NEW." Anecdotes for the Young Folks all the Year Round. 
 Fifteen Art Illustrations. 
 
 IV. Second Thousand, cloth irilt, with many Illustrations, is. 
 HOW THEY LIVED IN THE OLDEN TIME. Depicts the Anglo Saxon and 
 Anslo-Norman periods. The Illustrations are from very old MSS. in the 
 British Museum, etc. 
 
 V. {Re/irin'ed from "Can Nothius;be Donet") Tenth Thousand, is. 
 IS IT UTOPIAN ? The Evangelization of the Masses by Voliintary Lay Help. 
 "We sincerely hope this plea may not be urged in vain." — The Record. 
 
 VI. 1 1 (indsomely boutil in crimson and gold, price is. 6d. 
 MANY THINGS. 
 
 " Something well said on almost every topic."— /"//iZ/V Opinion. 
 
 " ' Many I'hings ' does not contain a single dead thing." — Sword and Trowel. 
 
 VII. With many Illustrations, cloth, gilt edges, price IS. 
 SHAKSPEARE'S DEBT TO THE BIBLE. 
 
 " Cheap and handy : a very welcome addition to Shakspeare literature." — 
 Bookseller. 
 
 VIII. New Book on the Christian Evidenxes. 
 No'.v ready, cloth gilt, price is. 
 FAITH'S ROCK OF REST : Things Secret and Things Revealed. I. Na- 
 ture and Kevelation : An Analogy. II. The Secret Side of Doctrine. 
 III. The Secret Side of Providence. IV. The Secret Side of Discipline. 
 V. Faith's Rock of Rest. 
 
 IX. Second Thousand. Cloth, Illustrated, is. 
 WHO GAVE US THE BOOK ? or, England's Debt to William Tyndalo. 
 Fine Engraving of the Tyndale Memorial Statue, and Portrait of Tyndale. 
 X. Rich cloth, bevelled, gilt, is. 6d., with Portrait and Autograph Letter. 
 HUGH STOWELL : A Life and Its Lessons. 
 
 " He was a genuine successor of our best Reformers."— Z'lTiin McNcile. 
 XI. In bevelled cloth gilt, with Portrait, is. 
 HUGH McNEILE, and Reformation Truth. With a Biographical Sketch. 
 
 "Our Protestantism — so excellent in itself, so won to our country, and so 
 kept — is well worth keeping still, and keeping pure." — Dean McNeile. 
 
 XII. Bevelled cloth gilt, is. 6d, 
 THE SYRIAN LEPER ; or. Sin and its Cure. 
 
 NEW BOOKS FOR HOME GIFTS. 
 SUNGLEAMS : Rondeanx and Sonnets. By the Rev. R. Wilton. Cloth, 
 
 gilt, with Frontispiece. 
 PILGRIM CHIMES. For the Weeks of the Year. By the Rev. W. Poole 
 BAiJERN. Cloth, gilt, with Frontispiece. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" Office, 7, Paternoster Square, E.C. 
 
 II
 
 Her Majesty the Oueen. 
 
 The late Dean of Windsor writes :— " Her Majesty permits me 
 to say she has read and approved of it with much pleasure." 
 
 NEW SERIES. FOURTEENTH YEAR. 
 One Penny Weekly. Published every Friday. 
 
 " Xlbe mews : " 
 
 A NATIONAL FIRESIDE JOURNAL AND REVIEW. 
 
 » « 
 
 The Fireside Neivs, to avoid confusion with Tlie Fireside 
 Magazine, is now entitled THE NEWS. 
 
 GIVES 16 PAGES, SI ZE OF THE "GRAPHIC ," FOR ONE PENNY. 
 
 We are glad to say The Neii's is gaining hosts of friends as a 
 first-class Home Newspaper. It is full of short, crisp paragraphs, 
 treating on social subjects, bright gossip about the events of the 
 day, and personal, yet pleasant chats about people in whom every 
 one is interested. It is published at Home Words Office. 
 
 THE TOPICS INCLUDE— 
 
 The Week: at Home and ii. Reformation Principles. 
 
 Abroad. 
 
 2. Leaders on Prominent Ques- 
 
 tions. 
 
 3. In Parliament : A Digest. 
 
 4. The Parish at Work. 
 
 5. Press Opinions on Current 
 
 Events. 
 
 6. The Temperance Reform. 
 
 7. The Mission Field. 
 
 8. Every-Day Heroism. 
 
 9. Popular Recreation. 
 
 12. Social Helps and Hints. 
 
 13. Notes on Church Seasons. 
 
 14. Science Progress. 
 
 15. Our Church and the Masses. 
 
 16. Men of the Age. 
 
 17. The Question Box. 
 
 iS. New Books and Magazines. 
 
 19. The Modern Pulpit. 
 
 20. Family Life. 
 
 21. The Rest Day. 
 
 22. A Serial Tale by a well- 
 
 10. Landmarks of History. | known Author. 
 
 The Editorial arrangements are under the supervision of the 
 Rev. Charles Bullock, B.D., Editor of Zf<?;«£ Words. 
 
 London: "HOME WORDS" OFFICE, 7. Paternoster Square, E.Q 
 
 12
 
 SOUTHERN REGfnL°.' ^^"f^rnia
 
 UCb'iUM 
 
 n t ' »•' 'L i 1 I 
 
 AA 000 367 239 i 
 
 _ ^<-. ^^'^■ 
 
 RE!.*OV 
 
 .\V 
 
 viir 
 
 ^i, 
 
 Univeriity F 
 
 :h Libiuiy
 
 Sk 
 
 
 - <> 
 
 *•; , * 
 
 ^