Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 IMAGES.
 
 " I saw a man with a silver trumpet." 
 
 Page 2
 
 IMAGES. 
 
 W. WELDON CHAMPNEYS, M.A. 
 
 CANON RESIDENTIARY OF ST PAUL'S, AND 
 VICAB OF ST. PANCRAS. 
 
 ^igfetfe CMtioit. 
 
 SEELEY, JACKSON, AND HALLIDAY, 54 FLEET STKEET. 
 LONDON. MDCCCLXVin.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE WHITE DRESS ... , .1 
 
 THE DEBTORS 17 
 
 THE POOR PRISONER . . . .35 
 
 THE king's PALACE . . . . 5o 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK C9 
 
 THE RACE 03 
 
 THE BUILDERS , . • . .124 
 
 THE GLASS 144 
 
 THE JOURNEY 169 
 
 THE FOWLEB 193 
 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The first four of these little Stories were 
 written, (according to the Advertisement to 
 the first Edition,) " to raise a small sum to 
 defray the expenses of the third Infants' and 
 tenth School lately opened in Wliitechapel, 
 a parish of above 34,000 souls." 
 
 This object, through the kindness of 
 many friends, and the Divine blessing, was 
 accomphshed ; and a School, held both in 
 the week-days and Sundays, was supported 
 for nearly three years from the sale of the 
 first Series.
 
 VI PEEFACE. 
 
 The last five stories were written (dur- 
 ing a temporary cessation from active work 
 through indisposition) to obtain the means 
 of erecting a permanent School-house in 
 one of the most densely inhabited and neg- 
 lected districts of the Parish, containing 
 1300 souls in a single street, not half or half 
 a quarter of a mile in length, and in which 
 a Daily Ragged School with 140 child- 
 ren, and a Sunday School with seventeen 
 Teachers and ninety cliildren, were regu- 
 larly assembled; till the large old house, 
 (supposed to have belonged to the Earl of 
 Essex in Elizabeth's reign, from whom the 
 street had its name,) was pulled down to 
 make way for a new and spacious street. 
 
 Close to the spot where that old house 
 stood, a new Church, with free seats for a
 
 PBEFACE. VU 
 
 thousand, and Schools for three hundred 
 children, with residences for the Teachers, 
 have been erected, through the noble gift 
 of a wealthy congregation at the West End 
 of London (whose Muiister led them to 
 desire to build a Free Church for the poor), 
 and the aid of the Conmiissioners and 
 Parishioners. 
 
 The writer has been led to believe that 
 the Saviotir, when He used the illustrative 
 mode of teaching by parables, did not merely 
 adapt His way of teaching to the Eastern 
 mmd, but used a method, most attractive 
 to the mind of man, as man. In his own 
 constant weekly visits to the many Schools 
 of his charge, the writer has invariably found 
 that a story will arrest the attention, and 
 fasten the abstract lesson on the memory,
 
 VIU PREFACE. 
 
 when the attention would flag, and the mind 
 forget an unillustrated precept. The dart, 
 wound round with lighted tow, fastens itself, 
 and bums its way when either without 
 the other would be harmless. It is humbly 
 hoped that these little Allegories may, 
 through the Divine blessing, interest some 
 of the little ones of Christ's flock, and lead 
 them to that Booh, from whence they have 
 been drawn, and to that blessed Saviour, 
 who is the subject of them aU.
 
 IMAGES. 
 
 THE WHITE DRESS. 
 
 There was a certain city, into wliicli 1 
 went one day. I saw great numbers of 
 people in the streets, — some of them hxiigh- 
 ing very loud,^ and looking merry for a 
 little while, but all of them seemed un- 
 happy: there was a great deal of noise, 
 but not one person I saw seemed to be at 
 peace,* — they were pale and dirty,^ their 
 dress was ragged and tattered ; and, though 
 some had clothes that looked more decent 
 than the others at a distance, yet, when I 
 came nepr to tliem, I fomid they were all 
 patched, threadbare, and flimsy.* 
 
 Wliile I was looking at this, and won-
 
 2 THE WHITE DRESS. 
 
 dering at all I saw, I heard the sound of a 
 trumpet. I turned towards the place from 
 ^^ Inch the sound came, and saw a man with 
 a silver trumpet to his mouth, standing at 
 the top of one of the streets of the city. 
 The people ran together to the place where 
 he stood, and I went with them. The man 
 who was sounding with the silver trumpet 
 was like the other people in appearance, but 
 did not seem so sad : he seemed sad indeed 
 when he looked on the crowd of pale, rag- 
 ged, unhappy people around him ; but then 
 he smiled as if he was glad to see them 
 coming round to hear what he had to say :^ 
 and the sound of the silver trumpet was so 
 sweet, and rang so loud, and so clear, that 
 it seemed to cheer the hearts of the people, 
 though they did not know wliy they were 
 glad. The man who had the silver trumpet 
 looked like the servant of some great per- 
 son ; ^^ for though his dress was very plain, 
 being only wliite linen, he wore a cross on 
 the front of Ils cap, and on his bosom. 
 After he had blown the silver tiumpet
 
 THE WHITE DRESS. 3 
 
 cheerfully for some little time, lie took it 
 from his mouth, and said, 
 
 " Good friends, my Master has sent me 
 to you with good news."^ 
 
 *^ But who is your Master?" asked one 
 of the people round him. 
 
 " He is the good and rich person," an- 
 swered ihe man with the trumpet, "who 
 lives in that large palace beyond the city."^ 
 
 " And what is the good news you have 
 brought us f " asked another man from the 
 crowd. 
 
 " I will tell you," said the man. " My 
 Master is getting his house ready to give 
 you all a great feast, and do everything he 
 can to make you happy ; and he has sent 
 me, and a great many more of my fellow- 
 servants, to tell you of this, and ask you 
 all in Ills name to come."^ 
 
 When the man had said this, some of the 
 poor people clapped their hands with joy, 
 and said, 
 
 " This is indeed good news — I will go — 
 gladly and thankfully, — and kind indeed is
 
 4 THE WHITE DKESS. 
 
 it of that good man to ask such poor people 
 as we are to come to his beautiful house." 
 
 Others of the crowd did not believe what 
 the man had told them, and said, 
 
 ** Tush ! — I do not believe it ; he does not 
 care for us;" and so walked awaj. 
 
 Those that were left began to ask the 
 man when the day of the feast was to be — 
 they seemed so eager to go. But he said, 
 
 " I cannot tell you. My IMaster did not 
 tell us,^^ and we cannot tell you on wdiat 
 day this great feast is to be, though it is to 
 be soon ; — but," said the man, " I have not 
 yet told you all my message. Our Master 
 bade us say that, though he wishes every 
 one of you to. come to the feast, yet he can- 
 not let any of you come except you w^ear a 
 beautiful white di'ess," without a spot or 
 stam, so that you may all look like one 
 another, and be dressed in such a way as 
 that he may sit down w^ith you at the feast." 
 
 So when the poor people heard this they 
 felt very sorrowful— they looked at their 
 ragged, tattered, and flimsy clothing, and
 
 THE "^VHITE DRESS. 5 
 
 said to one another, " Then, / cannot go." 
 And another said, " I am sure I cannot ; 
 mj own clothes are not good enough to go 
 to such a house in, and I have no money to 
 buy a white dress." 
 
 " If you had all the money in the world," 
 said the man with the trumpet, " you could 
 not buy such a white dress as our Master 
 says you must wear. If you were to pass 
 through this whole city, though they might 
 show you what they call white, yet our ]\Ias- 
 ter will not call it so. It may seem a little 
 white here in this dark and smoky city, but 
 it will look very spotted and dingy in the 
 bright and clear light, which shines in his 
 beautiful palace." 
 
 "What then are we to do?" said the 
 people that stood round the man. " We 
 cannot think yoiu' Master would have taken 
 all this trouble in sending you and your 
 fellow-servants about to us if he had not 
 wished to do us good ; but how can we go 
 without the white di'ess, and how can we 
 get one ? "
 
 b THE WHITE DEESS. 
 
 " If you had all the money in the worlds" 
 said the man, "you could not buy such a 
 ■svhite dress as our Master says you must 
 have;^^ for he is the only person who has 
 the pure white linen ^^ of which the white 
 dresses are made ; and he will not sell it to 
 any one. But if you really wish to have 
 one of them, he has ordered us to tell you 
 that if you will go to the lodge of his house, 
 and knock at the door, and say you are 
 come to ask for a white dress, because you 
 wish to go to the feast, you shall each of 
 you have one."^* 
 
 So after he had said this, and told the 
 people not to forget to go to the lodge, he 
 wished them good morning, and, smiling 
 very kindly upon them all, went away. 
 
 I went to the lodge the day after this, 
 and saw a great many of the people of the 
 city crowding romid the narrow gate, which 
 was shut when I came to it. 1 saw a man 
 go up to the door and knock loudly and 
 boldly ; but, to my surprise, the door was 
 not opened. The man looked astonished.
 
 THE WHITE DEESS. / 
 
 and seemed in doubt whether he should 
 knock agam ; but he did knock again, and 
 still the door was not opened. The man 
 said, " This is strange, — I shall go away ; 
 and I would ncjt have come at all if I had 
 known this;" and so walked away. I saw 
 several knock, and when the door was not 
 opened at once, they also walked away, 
 saying the hke words. ^^ 
 
 Some of the other poor people who were 
 standmg round the door, who looked more 
 pale and humble than the others who had 
 gone away, and whose clothes, I observed, 
 were far more ragged than those of the 
 others, went up to the door and knocked. 
 Still the door remained shut — there w^as no 
 sound within, as if they were even coming 
 to open it, — there was not even the creak- 
 ing of a bolt heard. I looked to see what 
 they would say or do, but they did not turn 
 away — they still knocked on. I asked one 
 of them what they thought about this ? 
 
 " Sir," said one of them, " the man with 
 the cross and trumpet, when he asked us
 
 8 THE WHITE DRESS. 
 
 to come for a white dress, did not say that 
 the moment we knocked the door should be 
 opened; but that if we knocked it should 
 be opened. His good Master never meant 
 to deceive us ; he would not have taken all 
 the trouble to send his servants, and make 
 his feast ready, and di^aw us out of the 
 city, and then deceive us. / shall go on 
 knocking till he thinks good to have the 
 door opened: '"5 his time ought to be our 
 time, since it is all of his favour and kind- 
 ness that we are here at alV 
 
 So I saw in a little while the door opened; 
 they were let in one by one, and I followed 
 them. They each received a beautiful 
 white dress, "whiter than snow, so as no 
 fuller on earth could whiten it ;" it covered 
 and hid all their other dress, and they 
 looked as if their health began to be better 
 directly they had put it on. Their pale 
 faces began to have a little colour; they 
 no longer looked sad and downcast ; and I 
 saw one of the servants of the good Prince 
 pour on the heads of some, oil, called " the
 
 THE WHITE DHESS. 9 
 
 oil of gladness;" and directly their heads 
 were anointed with this they looked up 
 cheerfully and happily, and seemed "to 
 rejoice inwardly with joy unspeakable." 
 After they had received each one a white 
 dress, they were told to take care not to get 
 it spotted in the streets of the city; to which 
 they were about to return, to lodge there 
 till the great day of the feast. The servant 
 who spoke to them about this, advised them 
 to be very careful not to let the dress trail 
 on the muddy ground, but keep it well 
 girded up.^^ He told them also to beware 
 of going near anything likely to stain their 
 white dress ; but he also said that, if they 
 should happen to soil it in the course of 
 the day, in going about their work, they 
 must carefully wash it out at night in a 
 fountain, which the good Prince caused to 
 be made in the city,^^ and which quickly 
 took out any stains, and made the dress as 
 white as ever it was. 
 
 A little while after this I was in the city.
 
 10 THE WHITE DIIESS. 
 
 and saw several persons who had been at 
 the King's lodge the day before, and had 
 received white dresses. I saw several little 
 boys and girls who had white dresses on. 
 Some of them I remembered to have seen 
 coming with tlieir mothers, and some with 
 their fathers, to the King's lodge; and I 
 well remember how very kindly the Kuig's 
 servants spoke to these little boys and girls. 
 How glad they were to see them come 
 with their fathers and mothers. How very 
 sweetly they smiled on them when they 
 put the beautiful white dresses on these 
 little children; and how they told them that 
 their good Master, the King, loved little 
 childi'en very much, and would be very 
 glad indeed to have them at the feast. ^^ 
 
 Several of these little children I after- 
 wards met in the city. Some of them were 
 playing with their companions, and they 
 were very happy and cheerful ; but I saw 
 that the children who had white dresses 
 seemed to love to be with other cliildren
 
 THE WHITE DRESS. 1 1 
 
 most who were dressed like themselves. 
 And, though they were quite like children, 
 and were playing at children's play, I saw 
 that they were not rude and noisy lilve the 
 children that had not been to the Kino-'s 
 
 o 
 
 lodge ; they were not playing mischievous 
 tricks, they did not tease one another, 
 nor push one another roughly about, but 
 seemed as if they wished and tried to make 
 each other happy.'^^ 
 
 I went past a house, in one of the back 
 streets of the city, and looked in at the 
 window ; there were seven children in the 
 hoQse ; one of them, a very little girl about 
 ten years old, had on a white dress ; all the 
 other children, and the father and mother, 
 were dressed like the other people of the 
 city. I heard the father say to the httle gh'l, 
 
 " Where did you go the other day?" 
 
 She said, " Father, I went to the King's 
 lodge, and I wish that you, and my dear 
 mother, and my brothers and sisters, had 
 gone there too." 
 
 " Nonsense, child," said the father; " I
 
 12 THE WHITE DEESS. 
 
 have got enough to do here without mind- 
 ing such things." 
 
 " But I wish, father, you icould go," said 
 the Uttle girl, "they wei'e so kind to me: 
 the people who were going to the lodge all 
 said they were sure I should be welcome ; 
 and when I got in, the King's servants, 
 when they saw that I had no one with me 
 to take care of me, and found I had come 
 all the way by myself, gave me my white 
 dress directly, and spoke so very kindly to 
 me. I wish you would go, dear father and 
 mother ; it would make me so happy ; and 
 you would be so glad when you had once 
 been there. Do go.*' So then I walked 
 on to another street. 
 
 As I was walking gently along I heard 
 some one talking rather loud, so I stopped 
 and listened. Two young men were talk- 
 ing together; one had got on a white dress; 
 the other, the person that I heard talkino- 
 loud, had on the dress of the people of 
 the city. His dress was not very rao-rred, 
 or torn, but looked decent, though it was
 
 THE WHITE DEESS. 13 
 
 patched and flimsy, when I looked at it 
 more closely. This young man was saying 
 to the other, 
 
 " What has come to you lately ? I never 
 see you where you used to be — you never 
 take any pleasure now." 
 
 "Yes, I do," said the other. "I have 
 more pleasure now than I ever had before; 
 but I cannot go where I used to go, nor do 
 what I used to do."-^ 
 
 "Why not?" said the other. "I am 
 sure a little harmless amusement is right ; 
 and to be always sitting at home moping 
 over that book cannot be right." 
 
 " I do not mope," said the other, " though 
 I love to be reading this book.-" I have 
 been happier since I stayed at home and 
 read this than I was when I used to go 
 out with you, and take pleasure, as it is 
 called. I thought once that it would do 
 no harm; but the first day I went, after 
 having been to the King's lodge and got 
 this white di'ess, I found that the noise 
 and bustle, and the music, and dancmg
 
 14 THE WHITE DRESS. 
 
 which I saw, were foUj to me ; and when I 
 got home, my white dress, wdiich was as 
 white as snow in the morning, looked 
 soiled and faded ; and, though after I had 
 washed it in the fountain, it came quite as 
 white as ever, I could not go again, because 
 it is no pleasure ; and if I soiled my wdiite 
 dress ao;ain, now I know that I should soil 
 it, I might not get out the stain ; and all 
 my care is to keep it wdiite and clean 
 against the happy day of the feast." -^ 
 
 " Well," said the other, " I thought you 
 a sensible person once, but I think you 
 very silly noic." 
 
 I did not wish to hear any more, so I 
 walked on. 
 
 These are some of the things I saw in 
 that city ; and the day of the feast had not 
 come when I left the city.
 
 NOTES. 15 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ' Eccles. ii. 2. — I said of laughter, It is mad ; and of 
 mirth, What doeth it ? 
 
 ^ Rom. iii. 17.— The way of peace have they not 
 known. 
 
 ^ Isa. Ixiv. 6. — All our righteousnesses are as filthy 
 rags. 
 
 ^ Luke, xvi. 15. — The things which are highly 
 esteemed among men are abomination in the sight of 
 God. 
 
 ^2 Cor. vi. 10. — Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; 
 poor, yet making many rich. 
 
 ^ Acts, xvi. 17. — These men are the servants of the 
 most high God, which shew unto us the way of sal- 
 vation. 
 
 ' Luke, ii. 10. — Behold, I bring you good tidings of 
 great joy, which shall be to all people. 
 
 ^ Ps. xi. 4. — The Lord is in his holy temple : the 
 Lord's throne is in heaven. 
 
 ^ Ps. xxxi. 19. — Oh how great is thy goodness, which 
 thou hast laid up for them that fear thee : which thou 
 hast wrought for them that trust in thee before the sons 
 of men. 
 
 '« Matt. xxiv. 36.— Of that day and hour knoweth 
 no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father 
 only. 
 
 *' Heb. xii. 14. — Follow holiness, without which no 
 man shall see the Lord.
 
 16 NOTES. 
 
 ''Acts, viii. 20. — Thy money perish with thee, 
 because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be 
 purchased with money. 
 
 '^ Rev. xix. 8 — For the fine linen is the righteous- 
 ness of the saints. Isa. liv. 17. — And their righteous- 
 ness is of me, saith the Lord. 
 
 '* Matt. vii. 7. — Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, 
 and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto 
 you. 
 
 '5 Luke, xiii. 24. — Strive to enter in at the strait gate : 
 for many shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able. 
 
 '^ Luke, xviii. 7. — And shall not God avenge his own 
 elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear 
 long with them ? 
 
 *' 1 Pet. i. 13. — Gird up the loins of your mind, be 
 sober, and hope to the end, for the salvation that is to 
 be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. 
 
 '^Zech. xiii. 1. — In that day there shall be a fountain 
 opened, for sin and uncleanness. 
 
 '^ Prov. viii. 17. — I love them that love me: and 
 those that seek me early shall find me. 
 
 ^" John, xiii. 35. — By this shall all men know that ye 
 are my disciples, if ye have love one to another. 
 
 '' 2 Cor. v. 17. — If any man be in Christ, he is a new 
 creature : old things are passed away : behold, all things 
 are become new. 
 
 ^^ Ps. cxix. 97. — Lord, how I love thy law : it is my 
 meditation all the day. 
 
 -3 2 Pet. iii. 14.— Be diligent that ye may be found of 
 him in peace, without spot, and blameless.
 
 THE DEBTORS. 
 
 There was a certain King, who was most 
 kind to all his subjects.^ His kingdom was 
 very great, and there were many cities 
 which he governed. His people all loved 
 him, and did what he commanded, except 
 those who lived in one city. He had been 
 very kind and good to the people of this 
 city ,2 had supplied all their wants — fed 
 them in time of scarceness, and shown them 
 many proofs of his good- will and love. He 
 had been a father to them, as well as a 
 king, and had treated them more like his 
 own children than his subjects. But the 
 people behaved most ungratefully — though 
 they had received all this love from him, 
 they had not returned love for love ; ^ they 
 had eaten of the food which he let them have 
 out of his store-houses and barns — had worn
 
 18 THE DEBTORS. 
 
 the clothes which he suppUed them with, 
 and had paid him neither love nor money. 
 
 Sometimes they could not help thinking 
 what would be the end of all this. They 
 did sometimes fear that the day of reckoning 
 mio-ht come at last ; but when the fear of 
 this came into their mind, they said to one 
 another, " We need not be afraid, om' Kmg 
 is very merciful and kind." So they went 
 on without tliinking any more about a day 
 of reckoning.* 
 
 One day the city was in a great con- 
 fusion, — like an ant-hill when some one has 
 disturbed it ; you might have seen thcj peo- 
 ple running out of tlieir doors, and asking 
 one another what was the matter. You 
 might have seen them gathered together m 
 little knots at the corners of the streets, 
 talking about something which seemed to 
 have alarmed them and made them afraid, 
 
 " Have you heard the news ? " said one oi 
 the citizens, as he met another in the street. 
 
 *^ What news ? " said the other citizen. 
 
 «' Why, the proclamation which the King
 
 Asking oue another what was the matter." 
 
 Fa^e IS,
 
 THE DEBTOllto. 19 
 
 has just sent and caused to be read in the 
 city, in several places at once ; did not you 
 see one of his heralds?" 
 " No/' said the other. 
 « Well, I will tell you, then ; the King 
 has caused it to be proclaimed in our city 
 that every farthing of money which is owed 
 him by us must be paid by a certain day,^ 
 or we must go to prison." 
 
 "Indeed," said the other citizen, "that 
 IS bad news, for you know the King never 
 yet broke his word ; he very seldom threat- 
 ens, but when he has once said a thing he 
 never alters or changes."^ 
 
 " I know it," said the other, — " you re- 
 member those people who Hved at the other 
 end of the kingdom, close to the King's 
 palace — you remember how very much he 
 had favom-ed them, and when they set 
 themselves up against him, how dreadfully 
 they were punished." 
 
 " Yes, I remember hearing of it ; they 
 say that those people are kept in one of the 
 King's prisons ui chains and darkness, and
 
 20 THE DEBTORS. 
 
 that he has said there is no pardon for 
 them."7 
 
 " What then are we to do ? Oh, how 
 dreadful it would be to fall under the same 
 punishment." 
 
 " What can we do?" said the other citi- 
 zen. " If we were to go and ask him to 
 forgive us, and say we were sorry for having 
 run in his debt so deeply, might he not alter 
 his mind?" 
 
 " That would be of no use," said the 
 other. " When he has once said that the 
 debt must be paid, I am quite sure that he 
 will not break his word." 
 
 " But if we were to go and acknowledge 
 how wrong we have been in running into 
 debt with him, and promise not to do so 
 agam, might he not then forgive us ?" 
 
 " I think not," said the other; " for as he 
 has proclaimed that the debt must be paid, 
 our promising not to run in debt again will 
 not pay our debt; besides, if we loere to 
 promise, could we keep the promise ? if we 
 have no money to pay off the debt, how are
 
 THE DEBTOES. '^1 
 
 we to keep clear from debt for the time to 
 come ? " 
 
 " That is true," answered the man. '' I 
 see it is certain that the King will not 
 change his word, nor alter the thnig that is 
 gone out of his lips. I can see that if he 
 did do so to 2is, the other people who live 
 under his government would think he ought 
 to do the same for them, and so thej would 
 not mind what he said." 
 
 " There is no hope then : we must suffer. 
 O that there were some way of escape ! but 
 there is no)ie ; we are quite sure the King 
 cannot hreah his icorcl ; we are quite certain 
 ice cannot pay the debt — no, not one farthing 
 of it. There is no hope, and we have nothing 
 to look for but the prison, and mch a prison 
 — no one ever was known to come out that 
 was once tin-own in there.^^^ So the two 
 citizens parted with heavy hearts and sad 
 looks. 
 
 Some time after this happened, when the 
 people of the city were looking forward 
 with dread to the day when they should be
 
 22 THE DEBTORS. 
 
 seized and cast into prison for their debt, 
 the King's heralds came into the city to make 
 a proclamation. The poor citizens were 
 almost afraid to listen to what they said, for 
 they felt sure that it was to tell them that 
 the day was fixed and the prison ready, and 
 that the King's judges were coming to go 
 over every man's accounts— find how much 
 he owed — and then pass sentence on him. 
 However, a few went out and listened. 
 AVhen they heard what was being pro- 
 claimed, they could scarcely believe their 
 eai's — they heard that the whole debt of 
 every one in the city was paid. 
 
 "Our gracious King," said the herald, 
 " has seen your trouble, and felt for your 
 miserable state ; he knows that you can pay 
 him nothing, because you have no money 
 with which you can pay ; he knows that you 
 can find no means of paying, because as 
 you are all in debt to him and can none of 
 you pay for yourselves, therefore none of 
 you can pay for his neighbour. "^ 
 
 " What then has been done?" asked one
 
 THE DEBTORS. 23 
 
 of the people of tlie city ; " has he then 
 changed his mind ? " 
 
 " No," said the herald, " he has not, he 
 cannot do so; he said that the deht must 
 be paid, and it is paid. He has fomid a 
 friend who has paid him all youi' debt." 
 
 " Oh, how kind and good of om' King!" 
 cried some of the people. " Then the Kmg 
 has kept liis word, the money is paid, and 
 we shall not be cast mto prison. But who 
 is tliis friend— tell us?" 
 
 " He has been among you, but you did 
 not know him; it is the King's own Son." 
 
 "We never saw liim here," said the 
 citizens, " and we should have known it if 
 he had been here." 
 
 " He has been among you, but he came 
 without any state or greatness.^^ He put 
 off liis kmg's di-ess before he left his 
 father's house, and if you had met him you 
 would not have knowTi from liis dress that 
 he was an}i:hing but a servant" 
 
 " And what did he do when he was 
 here?" asked one of the citizens.
 
 24 THE DEBTOES. 
 
 " He went about the city and saw with 
 Ins own eyes the distress you were in 
 through fear of prison, and he has him- 
 self paid your debt; and now every one 
 of you may get a paper, on which your 
 discharge is written, if you will apply for 
 it to the King's Son."^i 
 
 "But where shall we find him?" asked 
 the citizens. 
 
 " He is not far off, you will find him at 
 a place' outside the city now, waiting to 
 give the paper to all who go for it." 
 
 " But wliat need is there that we should 
 get the paper? Is it not enough if we 
 know that the debt has been paid ? " 
 
 " No," answered the King's heralds; "the 
 King has said that though his Son has paid 
 the debt for all of you, yet he shall look 
 on those who have not received a paper 
 from his Son as his debtors still. ^^ Besides, 
 that is not all ; you have no money to go on 
 with, even if you are forgiven all your debt, 
 and you will soon run into debt as much 
 as before, so you had better go and get
 
 THE DEBTORS. 25 
 
 your paper, and hear what the King's Son 
 will say to you." 
 
 A great many of the citizens, when these 
 tidings were spread through the city, were 
 very glad indeed, and those Avere most glad 
 now who had been most sorry before for 
 having got into debt with the King. It was 
 not those who had only been most afraid of 
 going to prison, but those who had seemed 
 grieved also for having fallen mider the 
 good King's anger. The others, who had 
 been very much terrified at the thought of 
 going into prison, seemed not to be at all 
 anxious to go and get their papers. They 
 said to one another, " You remember tlie 
 man said that the Prince had paid for all ; 
 what more can we want ? I shall not take 
 the trouble of going after the paper." 
 
 So these stopped in the city, and took no 
 more thought of the matter. The other 
 citizens, whose hearts were quite moved by 
 the kindness of the King and the Prince, 
 though they were rejoiced to know that 
 their debt was paid, vet could not rest till
 
 26 THE DEBTORS. 
 
 they had seen the Prince and thanked him 
 for his goodness, and received one of the 
 papers signed with his own hand, and sealed 
 with the King's seal. They all felt that 
 the Avay to prove that they were thankful 
 for what had been done for them was to do 
 what had been told them.^^ So these citi- 
 zens went directly to the place which the 
 heralds had told them ofi 
 
 When they came there they did not see 
 the Prince nor the King, but One who came 
 from them both was there to meet them.^* 
 He told them that their names would be 
 put down in a book, belonging to the Prince, 
 and assured them that their debt was quite 
 forgiven. He gave each one of them a 
 paper which showed that their debt was 
 cancelled,^^ as it is called, for there was 
 written on it how much they had once 
 owed; but this was so crossed over with red 
 lines that they could not read the figures, 
 which showed exactly how much they had 
 owed. This great Person gave each of them 
 a pm-se of money ; he told them that they
 
 THE DEBTOES. 27 
 
 were to have a small purse at first. " This," 
 said he, " will be enough to keep you out 
 of debt for the present, take all the care of 
 it you can, and when that is gone come 
 here, and if you have made good use of it 
 you shall have another purse. "^^ So when 
 they had received each man a purse of 
 money, they went back very happy and 
 thankful to the city. 
 
 ' When they got home they opened their 
 purses and found in each a paper of rules. ^^ 
 This paper showed them how to make the 
 best use of their money ; told them what 
 things they might and ought to buy, and 
 what each thing cost; and when their mo- 
 ney was gone and they went out for more, 
 though they owed a little, when they went 
 and told the Person so who gave them the 
 first purse, he said, " I can see you have 
 been tryhig to do all you could. The King 
 will forgive you this also.^^ Here is another 
 purse, there is more in it than there was in 
 the first, and you must try more, and more 
 to put everything down you spend, and
 
 2S THE DEBTORS. 
 
 see if you can keep quite out of debt. But 
 the King knows you are trying, and the 
 Prince loves you because you have believed 
 what his heralds said, and done what he 
 commanded you ; and you need not fear." 
 So the people went away still more glad 
 than before ; and they said, as they went 
 home, " I will try more than ever to keep 
 out of debt, the King is so kind to me ; the 
 King's Son paid my debt, and now gives me 
 money to help to keep me out of debt, and 
 is so very good to look over my faults, that 
 I will try all I can to please him." And 
 so they did; and they found that they 
 never had known how great their debt was 
 till they had it forgiven; nor how poor 
 they were till they had received the King's 
 money to help them.^^ 
 
 The rest of the people of the city, who 
 would not do what the King's heralds had 
 said, but thought it quite enough for the 
 Prince to have paid the debt for all, went 
 on increasing their debt every day, till one 
 mornmg they heard to their great surprise
 
 THE DEBTOES. 29 
 
 a strange sound, as of a very loud trumpet; 
 and it grew louder and louder, and came 
 nearer and nearer, and in a little time they 
 saw a great many of the King's messengers 
 running to and fro in tlie streets, and they 
 saw them go into every house, and bring 
 out first the men who had the papers, and 
 they took them out of the city.^*^ So then 
 these men knew that the sound they had 
 heard w^as the blast of the King's trumpets. 
 After all the other men were gone out to 
 meet the Kings Son, which they did with 
 happy smiling faces, talking cheerfully to 
 the King's messengers as they went along, 
 then the messengers came into every house 
 and took out the rest ; the King's messen- 
 gers said nothmg to the men, except, "Arise, 
 and come to judgment." So they followed 
 with their hearts almost dead with fear, 
 pale and trembling, to a great open plain 
 outside the city, where the Throne-^ was 
 set up, so that they could all see him, and 
 they were hurried to a place at his left 
 hand. The Judge w^ore several giittermg
 
 30 THE DEBTOES. 
 
 crowns on his head;-^ and liis look, when 
 he turned to them, was one of such terrible 
 majesty that they almost died with terror 
 as he turned towards them. There were 
 several great books open before him, and 
 he read out of one of the books the name 
 of every one of the men who had gone out 
 of the city, according to his order.-^ There 
 stood round the Prince a most glorious 
 company, made up of the chief persons 
 from all countries of the King's dominions; 
 they all wore most bright and beautiful 
 robes, but the Prince's dress was so daz- 
 zling white that they could scarcely look 
 on it. AVhen the Prince had read out the 
 names aloud, he turned towards the men 
 whose names were written in the book, 
 and said that they should not go back to 
 their city, but go away with him and live 
 with him in his father's house, and be his 
 friends, and always see his face.^^ 
 
 Then he turned to the other men at his 
 left hand, and read out of another great 
 book all their names, and their debt ; and
 
 THE DEBTORS. 31 
 
 there was written in the book not only all 
 that they had owed and he had paid, hut 
 all that they had added smce he had paid, 
 and they were taken away to that dreadful 
 prison, in which the other people, who had 
 once lived near the King's palace, and been 
 his chief servants, were kept chamed and 
 in darkness. ^^
 
 32 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 » Jer. X. 10.— The Lord is the true God, He is the 
 living God, and an everlasting king. 
 
 2 Psalm xxxiii. 5.— The earth is full of the goodnesa 
 of the Lord. 
 
 3 Psalm xiv. 2, 3. — The Lord looked down from hea- 
 ven upon the children of men, to see if there were any 
 that did understand and seek God. They are all gone 
 aside. 
 
 * Eccles. viii. 11. — Because sentence against an evil 
 work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the 
 sons of men is fully set in them to do evil. 
 
 * Eccles. iii. 15. — God requireth that which is past. 
 
 * Num. xxiii. 19. — God is not a man, that He should 
 lie ; neither the son of man, that He should repent : 
 hath He said, and shall He not do it ? hath He spoken, 
 and shall He not make it good ? 
 
 ' Jude, 6. — The angels which kept not their first es- 
 tate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in 
 everlasting chains under darkness, unto the judgment 
 of the great day. 
 
 8 Matt. V. 26. — Thou shalt by no means come out 
 thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing. 
 
 ^ Psalm xlix. 7. — None of them can by any means 
 ledeem his brother, nor give to God a ransom for him. 
 
 '" Phil. ii. 6, 7, 8.— Who, being in the form of God, 
 thought it not robbery to be equal with God : but 
 made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the
 
 NOTES. 33 
 
 form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of man ; 
 and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled him- 
 self, and became obedient unto death, even the death of 
 the cross. 
 
 " Acts, V. 31.— Him hath God exalted with his right 
 hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to give repentance 
 to Israel, and forgiveness of sins. 
 
 '* ] Tim. iv. 10.— The living God is the Saviour of 
 all men, specially of those that believe. 
 
 " John, xiv. 23. — If a man love me, he will keep my 
 words. 
 
 >* John, xvi. 13, 14, 15.— Howbeit whenHe,the Spi- 
 rit of truth, is come. He will guide you into all truth : 
 He shall glorify me ; for He shall receive of mine, and 
 shall show it unto you. All things that the Father 
 hath are mine. 
 
 Phil. iv. 3. — Whose names are in the book of life. 
 '^ 1 John, ii. 12.— I write unto you, little children, 
 because your sins are forgiven you for his name's sake, 
 's Matt. xiii. 12.— For whosoever hath, to him shall 
 be given, and he shall have more abundance. 
 
 '' Rom. iii. 4.— That the righteousness of the law 
 might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, 
 but after the Spirit. 
 
 '* 1 John, ii. 1. — If any man sin, we have an advo- 
 cate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. 
 
 '^ Ps. Ixv. 3. — Iniquities prevail against me : as for 
 our transgressions, thou shalt purge them away. 
 
 '^ Matt. xxiv. 31.— And he shaU send his angels with 
 a great sound of trumpet, and they shall gather toge-
 
 34 NOTES. 
 
 tber his elect from the four winds, from one end of hea- 
 ven to the other. 
 
 1 Thess. iv. 16. — The dead in Christ shall rise first. 
 
 ^^ Rev. XX. 11. — And I saw a great white throne, and 
 him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the 
 heaven fled away. 
 
 " Rev. xix. 12 And on his head were many crowns. 
 
 ^^ Rev. XX. 12. — And I saw the dead, small and great, 
 stand before God : and the books were opened : and 
 another book was opened, which is the book of life. 
 
 '^ Matt. XXV. 34. — Then shall the king say unto them 
 at his right hand. Come, ye blessed of my Father, in- 
 herit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation 
 of the world. 
 
 '^ Matt. XXV. 41. — Then shall he say also unto them 
 on his left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into ever- 
 lasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.
 
 THE POOR PRISONER. 
 
 Here is a prison! the strong heavy doors, 
 with the great nails outside, that look like 
 knobs of iron ; and the Httle grating. 
 through which the people look before they 
 open the gate — the narrow windows, like 
 slits in the thick stone wall, fenced over 
 with bars of u'on — the liigh walls, that 
 make us dizzy to look up at them, show 
 this to be a prison. 
 
 We will go in and see some of the pri- 
 soners. Here is a heavy iron knocker; let 
 us knock at the gate. Hark! how the 
 noise rino;s throuo-h the silent courts as if 
 they were empty ; but they are not empty; 
 the prison is full — there has been a rebel- 
 Hon in the country, and the prison is full of 
 the rebels. They are soon to be tried for
 
 36 TEE POOR PRISONER. 
 
 their lives, and though it is known that 
 some have been more guilty than others, 
 yet, as all have been guilty of rebellion, 
 and were taken with weapons in their 
 hands, it is certain that they will all be 
 found guilty of death. Let us knock again. 
 The jailor comes to the gate — he opens the 
 little grating, and looks through to see who 
 knocks. 
 
 " We wish to come into the prison, jailor, 
 if you please, and speak to some of the pri- 
 soners." 
 
 " Have you an order ?" 
 
 '' Yes, here it is — you will find it right." 
 
 So the jailor reads the paper, and unbars 
 the wicket gate, which opens within the 
 large prison gate, and we are in the prison. 
 
 What a dark gloomy place a prison is ! 
 Everything looks as if it said, " When once 
 here, there is no getting out again." The 
 heavy iron doors, opening into the cells ; 
 the stone floors and passages ; the sharp 
 iron spikes on the top of the walls, all look 
 as if escape was impossible.
 
 ' \V 
 
 I jiilll," It 
 
 ^ 
 
 ' "rN^fiV'ii^ If .. 
 
 Seated ou a wooden 5eucli.' 
 
 Page 37.
 
 THE POOR PRISONER. 37 
 
 « We should like to see and speak to one 
 of the prisoners." 
 
 " You shall," says the jailor ; " come this 
 way. I will show you one who has been a 
 leader in the late rebellion." 
 
 So the jailor led us through a dark pass- 
 age, dimly lighted from some narrow chinks 
 in the wall, which threw a ghmmer now 
 and then across the passage. He took us 
 up a winding stair of granite stone, at the 
 top of which was a small door of iron ; he 
 picked out a key from the heavy bunch 
 which he carried in his hand, and unlocked 
 the door: having shot back the bolts, he 
 opened the heavy door, wliich moved slowly 
 on its hmges, and we went into the cell. 
 There was the prisoner : he was seated on a 
 wooden bench at one side of his httle cell ; 
 his iron bedstead, stood at the other side : we 
 could see that he had two ii'on rmgs round 
 his ankles, and two iron chains from each 
 of these rmgs fastened to a belt romid his 
 waist.1 He looked sad and sorrowful ; and
 
 38 THE POOH PRISONEK. 
 
 his face was pale and tliin. The jailor left 
 us, saying, 
 
 " You may speak with this man; I shall 
 leave you with him for a little while." 
 
 So he shut the door, and bolted us in. 
 
 "My poor friend," I said to the pri- 
 soner, " I am sorry to see you here in this 
 gloomy place, with these heavy chains on." 
 
 " And I," said the prisoner, " am very 
 sorry to be here." 
 
 " What have you done ? " I said (for I 
 wished the man to tell me his own story). 
 
 " I have been no worse than my neigh- 
 bours," said the man ; " we all rebelled 
 against the King ; we did not like his laws ; 
 they were too strict for us, and so we tried 
 to shake them off — that was all we did ; but 
 I hope the King will not be hard upon us." 
 
 " Have you any reason to give why the 
 King should show you mercy?" 
 
 " I have no particular reason, only, that 
 I hope he will; it would be hard if he were 
 to pmiioh us."
 
 THE POOR PRISONEB. 39 
 
 " Have you not broken his laws by re- 
 belling against him?" 
 
 " Perhaps we have." 
 
 " And if you have broken them by rebel- 
 lion, are you not liable to whatever punish- 
 ment may be laid down in them as the 
 punishment for rebellion ? " 
 
 " I suppose we are," said the prisoner. 
 
 " And do you not know," I said, " that 
 the laws are very clear on this point, and 
 that death is the punishment of rebellion? 
 Every traitor and rebel must die."- 
 
 " If this be true," said the prisoner, " I 
 am lost — I am a dead man; but I can 
 hardly think it is so ; because, if it is, there 
 are so many that must die. This prison is 
 fall of people much worse than myself, and 
 who deserve death far more than I do." 
 
 " The laws," I said, " are clear — every 
 traitor must die; and if there are many, 
 and they all deserve death as much as you, 
 both they and you wdll be punished; and 
 that just as certainly as if you were the 
 only rebel."
 
 40 THE POOR PRISONEE. 
 
 " If this be so," said the prisoner, " I 
 have no hope of mercy — I have no reason 
 to give, if I was tried this moment, why- 
 sentence should not be passed upon me.^ I 
 am a rebel — tliat, I cannot deny." 
 
 " But I am told," I said, " that you are 
 ill as well as guilty, and that if you did not 
 die by the executioner, you have a mortal 
 sickness that would kill you, if you were 
 not cured of it.* Yours is a sad case." 
 
 AYhen I saw the poor man very sorrow- 
 ful and downcast, I said, 
 
 " Is there no hope ? have you no friend 
 who could plead for you to the King ?" 
 
 " I have no such friend," answered the 
 man,^ " and I know of no friend who could 
 hope to obtain so great a favour ; for that 
 person who could venture to ask the King 
 to forgive those who have so grievously 
 offended him as I have, must have great 
 interest with him." 
 
 " Is your day of trial fixed?" I asked. 
 
 " It is," said the man, " though I have 
 not been told the day — the King's judge is
 
 THE POOK PRISONEB. 41 
 
 to come and try us one by one privately, 
 and after that we are all to be tried publicly 
 before the whole city ; and our sentence is 
 to be pronounced and executed.^ The jailor 
 told me tliis." 
 
 " When you now think of your trial, 
 how do you feel, poor man ? " I said. 
 
 " It is a fearful thing to thmk of it — I 
 shall be afraid to go into court ; every time 
 I hear a knock at the prison-gate I shall 
 tremble, and think, ^ Perhaps it is the judge 
 come to question me ;' every time the bolts 
 of my cell are drawn, and my door opened, 
 I shall say, ' The jailor has come to take 
 me into court.' It is bad with me here. 
 It will be worsS with me soon : these heavy 
 chains are only a taste of my future pimish- 
 ment, I have nothing before me but a fear- 
 ful looking for of judgment : but I have 
 deserved judgment, and no mercy ; and I 
 have no hope of mercy." 
 
 When the prisoner had said this, the 
 door of his cell opened, and the jailor came
 
 42 THE POOR PRISONEB. 
 
 to tell US that Are could not be allowed to 
 stay any longer. He told us, as we went 
 out, that every cell in the prison was full, 
 and that he did not know any one day 
 which of the prisoners might be sent for to 
 be examined by the King's judge. He 
 told us that his duty was to lay hold of 
 the prisoners, and keep them safe, and bear 
 witness against them at their examinations;^ 
 but that the King's high marshal came to 
 the prison, with the name of the prisoner 
 he was to bring before the judge ; and that 
 when they had been examined, they were 
 taken away by the high marshal to another 
 place of safe keeping, belonging to the Kmg, 
 in another part of the country. 
 
 Some time after this happened we ob- 
 tamed an order, and went again to see the 
 poor prisoner; we wished to know if he was 
 still there. We were let in as before, and 
 taken straight to his cell. When we came 
 into his cell, though he looked as pale and 
 ill as before, yet we thought he did not look
 
 THE POOR PEISONEJR. 43 
 
 SO sorrowful ; it seemed as if something had 
 given his mind a turn ; and it was as we 
 guessed. He soon told us about it 
 
 " Since you have been here I have had 
 a stranger with me : I never saw him be- 
 fore ; and I do not know his name now." 
 
 *^ What did this stranger say to you ? " 
 
 " He began by talking with me about 
 my crime. He read over to me the laws 
 against rebelHon, and explained to me in 
 how many ways I had offended:^ and 
 when he saw that I denied nothing, and 
 excused nothing, he showed me how just 
 and right the laws were ; and, without re- 
 proaching me for my crimes, he reasoned 
 with me so tenderly and kindly on the 
 goodness of the King, and my ingratitude 
 in breaking his laws, that my heart was 
 quite melted — the tears flowed from my 
 eyes, and I wept bitterly."^ 
 
 "What else did this stranger do?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " When he saw," said the prisoner, " that 
 I did not deny my guilt, and was really
 
 44 THE POOR PRISONER. 
 
 grieved for it at the heart, the stranger 
 asked me if I had any hope of life ? I told 
 him what I told you, that I had none ; be- 
 cause, being guilty of death, I must die ; 
 and being ill also of a mortal disease, I 
 must die of that, if I were not cured. He 
 asked if I ever had thought of writing a 
 petition to the King. I said, if I should 
 write a petition, w^ho would take it to the 
 King and get him to read it? besides, I 
 said, I neither know how to write such a 
 petition properly, nor have I either paper, 
 ink, or pen, to write with. ' Will you write 
 a petition,' said the stranger, ' if I help you 
 to write it ? here is the paper, and the ink, 
 and pen — take the pen and write.' So I 
 took the pen, and the kind stranger told me 
 what to say, and guided my hand while I 
 wrote. ^° When it was written, and signed 
 with my name, I said to the stranger, ^ Look 
 here — my hands have soiled the paper, 
 which was so white and clean when you 
 gave it me— will the King look at such a 
 soiled petition ? and who w^ill present it tc
 
 THE POOR PEISONEE. 45 
 
 him, and ask him to read it?' ' You need 
 not fear,' said the kind stranger ; ' the 
 Friend who sent me to you will take charge 
 of your petition ; and if he asks, the King 
 will read it.' ^i After this the stranger left 
 me," said the prisoner, " but though I have 
 heard no more of my petition, yet a gleam 
 of hope sometimes breaks into my mmd, 
 and I think there may he mercy." 
 
 The next time we visited the prison, we 
 found the poor man looking still more cheer- 
 ful. The kind stranger had been with him, 
 and brought him good news. He liad taken 
 his petition to the Friend he spoke of — 
 that Friend had taken off all the soil from 
 the paper, and made it as clean and white 
 as snow,i" — had carried it to the King, and 
 asked him to read it, and the King read it 
 directly ; the Friend entreated the King for 
 his sake to have mercy also on the poor 
 prisoner, and to grant him a free pardon; 
 *^ and the kind stranger brought me word,'' 
 said the poor man, " that the King listened 
 to the words of his Friend, and promised to
 
 46 TIIE POOR TEISONER. 
 
 have a free pardon drawn out, and sealed, 
 and given to me." 
 
 " This is indeed good news," I said ; 
 " this may well cheer your heart, poor 
 man." 
 
 " But this is not all," said the prisoner ; 
 " the King, when he found that I was so 
 ill, promised to send his own Physician, 
 and have me removed into his own in- 
 firmary, which is close by. The kind 
 stranger brought me some medicine the 
 same day he brought me the news that 
 my pardon was being got ready ;i^ and 
 I took some of it; and, though it tasted 
 very bitter, and made me feel very ill, and 
 brought me very low, yet he assures me 
 that if I go on with it, it will quite cure 
 me, and make me quite well." 
 
 The next time we saw the prisoner he 
 was in the King's infirmary. His chains 
 had been taken off his feet and leers, though 
 he still wore the belt round his body, which 
 he told us he was to wear till the day when 
 he received his pardon signed and sealed :
 
 THE POOR PRISONER. 47 
 
 till then he was not to go without it ; ^* for, 
 as he said, it would continually remind him 
 both of what he had once been, and what 
 he then was, and what he yet hoped to be. 
 It would make him think of his former 
 heavy chains, and be thankful that tliis was 
 so light ; and it would make him long for 
 the day when this last remembrance of his 
 prison should be taken off, and he should 
 be set perfectly free.^^ When he came into 
 the King's infirmary he found a great many 
 others there, who had once been in prison 
 like himself; for every one of these had 
 had the same disease as himself, though it 
 w^as very different in its appearance at dif- 
 ferent times, and required very different 
 medicine, according to the person's consti- 
 tution and former way of life. The same 
 Physician was appointed to all these : " and 
 what was my surprise," said the prisoner to 
 us, " when I found that the kind stranger 
 who had come into my cell and helped me 
 to write my petition, was no other than the 
 King's own Physician ! Sometimes he eiave
 
 48 THE POOR PEISONEK. 
 
 me medicine that made me feel very low 
 and weak; but he told me it was necessary 
 to give me strong medicine, because my 
 disease had been a long time on me, and 
 had taken great hold on me. Then, when 
 he saw I was very low, he gave me some 
 cheering draught, which raised my spirits 
 again. I am now waiting quietly for my 
 discharge ; '^ for he tells me that the same 
 day that I leave the infirmary, I shall have 
 to appear in the King's private court, and 
 go through an examination before the 
 judge." 
 
 " Does not the thought of this give you 
 some uneasiness ? " 
 
 " It does sometimes," said the prisoner, 
 '^ but then I reason thus with myself. 
 Ought I not to rely on the King's promise ? 
 Has he not given me a pledge and sure 
 token that my pardon is safe and ready, in 
 putting me into his infirmary, under the 
 care of his own Physician? Would he 
 have done all this, and taken such pains to 
 make me well, if he had not forgiven me
 
 TliE POOR PEISONEE. 49 
 
 my crime ? ^" When I reason in this way 
 my fears go," said the prisoner, "and I 
 look forward with humble joy and hope to 
 the day when I shall leave this place and 
 appear before the judge." 
 
 When we went next to the infirmary, 
 and walked up to the bed where the man 
 used to sleep, we found his place empty. 
 We asked one of the people where he was. 
 
 " He is gone," they said. " Yesterday 
 the King's marshal came with an order for 
 him to leave— the man was ready, and went 
 away." 
 
 " How did he seem ?" we asked. '' Did 
 he seem glad or sorry ? " 
 
 " He was very quiet and calm, — very 
 solemn; for he told us it was a very solemn 
 thing to stand before the judge, and to 
 know that if the law were to be put in force 
 against liim, he should be fomid guilty of 
 death ; ^^ but he said he had no doubt that 
 the King would keep his word, and that his 
 pardon would be given him by the judge 
 himself."
 
 50 THE POOR PEISONEE. 
 
 " Did you hear who was to be his judge?" 
 " Yes, we have heard," they said, " the 
 same person is to try him who took his pe- 
 tition to the King ; and that person is the 
 King's only Son:^^ ^^d we hear that he is 
 not only to receive his pardon, but to be 
 taken into the King's palace, and be close 
 to his own throne." 
 
 When I heard all this, I said, " This is 
 mercy, indeed."
 
 NOTES. 5 1 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ' Ps. cvii. 10, 11. — Such as sit in darkness and in 
 the shadow of death, being bound in affliction and in 
 iron, because they rebelled against the words of the 
 Lord, and contemned the counsel of the Most High. 
 
 ^ Ezek. xviii. 4. — The soul that sinneth, it shall die. 
 
 ^ Job, XXV. 4. — How then can man be justified with 
 God? 
 
 ^ Isa. i. 5. — The whole head is sick, and the whole 
 heart faint : from the sole of the foot even unto the 
 head, there is no soundness in it. 
 
 ^ Job, ix. 32, 33. — Neither is there any days-man be- 
 twixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both. 
 
 ^ 2 Cor. V. 10. — We must all stand before the judg- 
 ment-seat of Christ. 
 
 ^ Gal. iii. 23. — Before faith came, we were kept 
 under the law, shut up under the faith which should 
 afterwards be revealed. 
 
 " John,xvi. 8. — And when he (the Comforter) is come, 
 he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, 
 and of judgment. 
 
 ^ 2 Cor. vii. 10 Godly sorrow worketh repentance 
 
 unto salvation not to be repented of. 
 
 »° Rom. viii. 26.— Likewise the Spirit also helpeth 
 our infirmities : for we know not what we should pray 
 for as we ought.
 
 52 NOTES. 
 
 " John, xvi. 23. — Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father 
 in my name, He will give it you. 
 
 '2 Rev. viii. 3. — And another angel came and stood 
 at the altar, having a golden censer ; and there was given 
 unto him much incense, that he should offer it with the 
 prayer of all saints upon the golden altar which was be- 
 fore the throne. 
 
 '^ Ps. ciii. 3. — Who forgiveth all thine iniquities : 
 who healeth all thy diseases. 
 
 ''' Rom. viii. 21. — Because the creature itself also shall 
 be delivered from the bondage of corruption, into the 
 glorious liberty of the children of God. 
 
 '^ Rom. viii, 23. — Waiting for the adoption, to wit 
 (that is) the redemption of the body. 
 
 '^ Job, siv. 14. — All the days of my appointed time 
 will I wait, till my change come. 
 
 '7 Phil, i, 6. — Being confident of this very thing, that 
 he which hath begun a good work in you will perform 
 it until the day of Jesus Christ. 
 
 '* Ps. cxliii. 2.— Enter not into judgment with thy 
 servant ; for in thy sight shall no man living be justi- 
 fied. 
 
 '9 John, V. 22.— For the Father judgeth no man, but 
 hath committed all judgment unto the Son.
 
 It was built by the Kinsf himseU." 
 
 Page 53
 
 THE KING'S PALACE. 
 
 There stood in a certain city a large 
 building, which had once been very beau- 
 tiful, and which still had marks of what it 
 had been. It was built by the King him- 
 self, and when he had finished it he put 
 several of his servants in to take care of it, 
 and very often used to visit it himself, and 
 lodged in it, and took pleasure in seeing 
 the order and the beauty of everything in 
 the house ; ^ the windows Avere as clear as 
 crystal, and the light streamed in through 
 them, making every part of the house light, 
 so that there was not a corner of it dark." 
 The country in which this palace was built 
 was a lovely country, — there were no storms 
 nor sudden tempests, as in many other parts 
 of the world — the winds blew softly across 
 the plains, and over the hills, covered with
 
 54 THE king's palace. 
 
 wood, which stood round about the house. 
 There were at that time no bad people 
 livuig near — though some used to pass by 
 the palace, and look at it, and wish they 
 could get m ; but the porter was always on 
 the watch, and none of those bad people 
 ever attem^pted to get in, though they 
 wished to do so, if they could have done 
 it ; for these bad people, like all such per- 
 sons, disliked the King and his govern- 
 ment; it was too strict for them, — they 
 envied him his power, — and they would 
 have been glad of an opportunity of making 
 mischief, if they could have done it. 
 
 There was one room in the house which 
 was set apart for pictures. This room was 
 very large, the walls were of pure white, 
 and when the house was first built it was 
 empty, — but before the house had been 
 finished a day, several beautiful pictures 
 were put up in this room ; some of them 
 were pictures of flowers, some of trees, some 
 of happy thoughts, which were painted so 
 to the life, that when a person looked at
 
 THE king's pal Act 55 
 
 them they seemed as if thinking the thought 
 over a2;ain. Then there was another room 
 Ibed with lookmg-ghass, which showed the 
 least damp, if there had been any in the 
 house ; but it was so dry and free from any 
 damp, that from the day it was built there 
 never had been seen the least stain or dim- 
 ness on that beautiful bright glass. Every 
 room smelt as sweet as a bed of roses, for 
 the servants were always burnmg sweet 
 incense in them, and as you passed by you 
 might have heard songs and joyful music 
 sounding within ; and even at night, when 
 the windows were shut and the doors closed, 
 the inside of the house was light, for there 
 w\as a bright candle which never went out, 
 always burning, so that it was never dark 
 there. The outside of this palace was as 
 beautiful as the inside. No one could look 
 at it without saymg, " This must be a Kmg's 
 house," for it was built after a model of the 
 Kmg's ownmaking,'' and his Son had over- 
 looked the building, and when it was finished 
 the King saw it, and was pleased with it.
 
 ^ 
 
 56 7 THE IQNG S PALACE. 
 
 and thougli he L-ad a great many beautiful 
 palaces, yet there was not one which he 
 loved more, or in which his Son took a 
 greater interest than in this.* 
 
 This beautiful palace, however, did not 
 always remain so. One of those bad people 
 who were often lurking about the place, 
 contrived to throw the porter off his guard 
 one day, and sent him on an errand which 
 he could not perform, only that he might 
 get inside the house. And the moment he 
 had got in, he let in others of his bad com- 
 panions who were waiting near, and they 
 began directly to do all the mischief they 
 could. They first went to the looking-glass 
 room and pulled the glass away from the 
 walls, and scraped off as much of the silver as 
 they could, so that there were only patches 
 of glass in which you could see anything 
 reflected, though what they left and were not 
 able to spoil was enough to show the damp 
 which began to rise in the house ;5 for they 
 threw the doors and windows open, and tlie 
 damp niglit air soon stained the ^^•alls, and
 
 THE king's palace. 57 
 
 made the gold upon them become dim; and 
 a great many birds, that these wicked men 
 carried ^yith them, were let loose to fly about 
 the rooms, and they soon turned the house 
 into a foul bird-cage, and made the rooms 
 too dirty to be lived in by any cleanly per- 
 son.^ These men also pulled down the beau- 
 tiful pictures from the picture-room, and 
 began to hang up very different things, and 
 scrawled upon the walls, and seemed to have 
 no wish but to do as much harm as they 
 could in as short a time, and change the 
 house so as to make it as much unlike what 
 ibwas before as was possible. The bright 
 crystal windows they darkened; they put 
 out the golden pots of incense, and the light 
 which burnt all the day and night; they 
 did all they could to take out the King's 
 name and arms which were put up in every 
 room, — but the arms were so firmly fastened 
 in the walls, and the name cut so deep in 
 the stone, that finding they must pull the 
 house down if they wished to take them 
 quite away, they contented themselves with
 
 58 
 
 cutting them about, and defacing them, and 
 pamting over the letters, and taking away 
 every mark which could show to whom it 
 liad belonged. The servants whom the 
 Kmg had left in the palace, some through 
 fear and some through mifaithfulness, did 
 nothing to resist these wicked and mischie- 
 vous men, and in a little lime everything 
 was so changed in that once beautiful dwell- 
 mg, that you would have thought it had 
 been a den of thieves instead of a King's 
 palace; both inside and outside were so 
 entu'ely altered ; everythmg looked cheer- 
 less and gloomy — there were no songs heard 
 there, such as might have been heard before, 
 when it belonged to the Kmg, — but noisy 
 merriment, which often ended in quarrel- 
 Img; for though these men all agreed in 
 hating the King and spoiling his palace, they 
 could not agree among themselves, but often 
 quarrelled and strove together.'^ Sometimes 
 one had the upper hand and took the larg- 
 est room to himself — and sometimes another. 
 There used to hang in the lookmg-glass
 
 THE king's palace. 59 
 
 room a copy of the King's Jaws, which he 
 wrote with his own hand, and put up there 
 for the government of every servant in his 
 palace. There was nothing which any of his 
 servants either should do or should not do, 
 either to him or to their fellow-servants, 
 which those rules did not plainly show. And 
 the golden letters m which they w^ere writ- 
 ten were so large and plain that any one 
 might read them even as he walked or ran 
 through the room. Directly these wicked 
 men had got into the house they began to 
 cut and scrape and hack this w^riting, and 
 at last they left only a letter here and a let- 
 ter there, though any one, by puttmg them 
 together and trying to see what must have 
 been cut out, might have guessed at some 
 parts of the writing. Such was the state to 
 which this once beautiful house was brouo'lit 
 
 o 
 
 in a short time by this person, who hated 
 the King, gettmg in himself and bringing 
 in others hke him and corrupting the ser- 
 vants. 
 
 But the King, when he heard this, was
 
 60 
 
 grieved that Ms palace should be thus de- 
 stroyed : and though he did not want it (for 
 he had a great many more, and he could 
 have built himself others far more beautiful 
 than this), yet he loved this palace very 
 much — for he had often lodged in it and 
 visited it, and he made up his mind to cast 
 out the people who had got mto it, and go 
 and live in it himself, when it should be made 
 fit for him to inhabit. So one day, when 
 the people in the house little expected such 
 a thing (though they always kept the door 
 as fast shut as it used to be in the King's 
 time, for fear lest any of his servants should 
 come in), — one day, I say, when the door was 
 fast shut there was a loud knock heard — 
 and then another and another.^ And when 
 they looked out, they saw a man at the gate 
 who said he came from the Kmg ; — that he 
 had a paper from the King to give them 
 notice to quit. They said they should not 
 go till they were forced to go — that they 
 liked their quarters very well, and should 
 keep them as long as they could.^
 
 61 
 
 When the King's servant had received 
 this answer he went awaj, and the men set 
 to work to fasten up the windows and side- 
 doors. While they were going about domg 
 this, they were surprised at the brightness of 
 the silver which they had not been able to 
 scrape off the glass in the looking-glass 
 room ; they had never been able to see them- 
 selves so plainly, and the damp that had 
 dimmed them seemed to be gone off in a 
 way they could not account for. The next 
 day a louder knock was heard at the outer 
 gate, and when they looked out they saw 
 several of the King's servants ; these bade 
 them open the door, which they refused to 
 do, and said, " We will not go out till you 
 force us." When the Kincr's servants saw 
 
 o 
 
 that the men were resolved to resist, they 
 went a little way from the house to a person 
 who seemed to have come to direct them 
 how to act. He spoke to them, and they 
 returned to the gate, and began battering 
 it with heavy iron hammers till the gate 
 teemed to quiver ao;ain — the bolts started —
 
 THE ei:ng's palace. 
 
 the iron nails %stened in the door began to 
 work as if they would drop out — the splinters 
 of wood began to fly off— the hinges began 
 to give way, and at last the great door fell 
 with a heavy crash. When the Kmg's ser- 
 vants had thus gained an entrance, they 
 found that the nien had fled to the inner 
 part of the house, and had made themselves 
 as secure as they could in the different 
 rooms. They had hard work to drive them 
 out of these. The first they came to, on 
 gomg into the house, was the one who was 
 the chief for that time. The King's ser- 
 vants set themselves to get him out first ; 
 he however knew every winding stair in the 
 house, and no sooner was he driven out 
 from one part, and the room seemed clear, 
 than he went round some winding staircase, 
 and while they were following hard after 
 him he was in his old place again ; and so 
 it was with all the rest — it was a lono; time 
 before they were cast out. 
 
 However, at last the house was clear, — 
 the door fastened on them, and the servants
 
 THE king's palace. 63 
 
 began to cleanse the house. This was not 
 to be done in a minute, but took a long time. 
 They began first with the inside, — they 
 took off the paint, with which they had 
 covered the windows, that the clear light 
 might once more shine into the rooms; they 
 put fresh silver on the looking-glass room, 
 so that when it was done the glass showed 
 the damp as clear as before ; they took 
 down the bad pictures from the picture-room 
 and cleansed its walls thoroughly f they 
 wrote the writing afresh which the King 
 had put up against the walls, and fresh 
 gilded the arms and name ;^° they lighted 
 the incense and made the rooms smell sweet 
 again. But for all they could do, the 
 things which the bad men had written would 
 often show here and there through the paint; 
 and they were much surprised to find very 
 often a bad picture hmig up in the picture- 
 room among the good ones which they had 
 hmig up. They could not tell how this 
 could be, for the porter said he had not let 
 any one in that he knew of — the servants
 
 64 THE king's palace. 
 
 said they had not opened the doors of the 
 rooms to any one ; but it was at last found 
 out that these bad men had hollowed out 
 passages in the thick walls, and that they 
 had come out through secret doors into the 
 rooms, and were determined still to do all 
 the mischief they could, and if they could 
 not come back to live in the house, they 
 would still lurh in it. They were sa 
 cunning, and knew the ways of the house 
 so well, and were so acquainted with every 
 secret passage in the whole building, that 
 no sooner was one door, by which they had 
 come out and done mischief, stopped up, 
 than they slipped out by another. 
 
 So the Kmg's servants told him all this, 
 and that they had cleaned the house as 
 much as they could, but that it was so hol- 
 lowed out by the men who had lived in it, 
 and the walls had become so thoroughly 
 filthy that they could not be cleaned, that 
 coat after coat of paint was laid on them, and 
 still the damp came through and stained the 
 looking-glass for a while, and then blotted
 
 65 
 
 tlie walls, and that, notwithstanding all 
 they had done, the bad things written on 
 the walls still showed here and there. ^^ 
 
 They told him, too, that the incense would 
 sometimes scarcely light, and often nearly 
 go out, and that they could not keep the 
 birds out which had got in and made their 
 nests in the roof among the rafters, and 
 flew about, knocking off the gold and silver 
 and injuring the furniture. 
 
 When the King heard this he gave orders 
 that the house should be pulled down, and 
 built quite new again from the ground. — 
 This therefore was done. The beautiful 
 looking-glass was first carefully packed up 
 and removed ; the pictures and the golden 
 censers were also taken out ; and everything 
 which the King; had furnished out of his 
 own stores for the adorning; of the building 
 when it was first built, was removed and 
 carried away and laid up in safety in a great 
 store-house, where he kept such things. — 
 The house was then very quickly pulled 
 down, — so quickly, that even the birds that
 
 66 THE king's palace. 
 
 were asleep among the rafters were crushed 
 by the sudden fall. Every stone of the 
 palace was separated from the next stone, 
 so that scarcely two hung together — and 
 there it was left — and there it is to this 
 day. 
 
 It is believed that the King means to 
 rebuild it, but in a far more glorious way 
 tlian even when he first built it, though on 
 the same or a like plan ; some rooms are to 
 be left out which were in the first liouse, 
 and it is to be made exactly like liis Only 
 Son's glorious palace; and whenever it is 
 rebuilt he means to live in it himself — not 
 lodge in it only, but live in it and dwell 
 there.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 « Eccles. vii. 29.— God hath made man upright. 
 
 2 Matt. vi. 22.— The light of the body is the eye ; if 
 therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body is full of 
 light. 
 
 3 Gen. i. 26.— Let us make man after our image, after 
 oui* hkeness. 
 
 * Prov. viii. 30, 31.— Then I (Wisdom) was by him 
 as one brought up with him, and I was daily his dehght, 
 rejoicing always before him, rejoicing in the habitable 
 part of his earth, and my delights were with the sons of 
 men. 
 
 5 Rom. ii. 15.— Which show the work of the law 
 written in their hearts : their conscience also bearing 
 witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or 
 else excusing one another. 
 
 ^ Gal. V. 19.— The works of the flesh are manifest, 
 which are these, &c. 
 
 ' Titus, iii. 3.— For we ourselves also were sometim.es 
 (once) foolish, disobedient, serving divers lusts and 
 pleasures, Uving in malice and envy, hateful and hating 
 one another. 
 
 8 Luke, xi. 21, 22.— \VTien a strong man armed 
 keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace : but when a 
 stronger than he shaU come upon him and overcome 
 him, he taketh away all his armour wherein he trusted, 
 and divideth the spoils. 
 
 9 Isa. iv. 14.— Wash thine heart from thy wickedness,
 
 68 NOTES. 
 
 that thou mayest bt saved. How long shall thy vain 
 thoughts lodge within thee ? 
 
 *" After those days, saith the Lord, T will put my law 
 in their inward parts and write it in their hearts, and I 
 will be their God and they shall be my people. 
 
 " 1 Cor. iv. 4. — I know nothing by myself (I know 
 of no wilful sin allowed in myself) ; yet am I not 
 hereby justified.
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 It was a beautiful day — the dark, deep 
 blue of the sky had scarcely a single cloud 
 to speck it, — the bright sun shone upon 
 the broad open sea ; and as one long line 
 of wave rose and plunged on the shore 
 after another, a sheet of white foam broke 
 upon the pebbles that lined the beach, and 
 made them glitter in the sunshine, as if 
 they had been so many round jewels. 
 There was to be a ship-launch — a beauti- 
 ful ship, which the Builder had taken the 
 greatest pains to frame and put together, 
 so as to be quite a model and pattern of 
 beauty, was to be sent afloat upon the wide 
 waters. The Owner of the ship had fitted 
 it up with everything which would be 
 wanted ; and, when at last it was finished 
 — when the Builder had done everything
 
 70 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 he wished to dc about it, and it was quite 
 ready, it was launched into the sea. The 
 friends of the Owner and the Builder, who 
 were standing by to see the sight, shouted,^ 
 and the beautiful ship swam upon the wa- 
 ters, as proudly and hghtly as a swan. The 
 Owner of the ship, and the Builder, then 
 looked over it, and saw that everytliing in 
 and about it was perfectly to their mind." 
 
 The next thing was to put a captain in 
 her.^ They had stored her with every- 
 thing for a voyage directly she was afloat 
 and finished. They put plenty of all kind 
 of provisions on board — plenty of fine fresh 
 sweet water, and live stock, and abund- 
 ance of green food, and store of fruits for 
 the captain and his crew. When they had 
 quite stocked the ship they put the captain 
 in her. Sti-ange to say, he was one that 
 had never been at sea before ; but you will 
 not tliink it strange when I tell you that 
 the Owner provided him with a most cu- 
 rious chai't, in which every place that he 
 might ever sail to was so plainly marked
 
 THE SHIPWEECK. 71 
 
 down, that if he only looked to the chart, 
 he would know at once where he was, and 
 which way he was to steer his ship. They 
 also gave hun a compass, which, with the 
 chart, would almost secure him from rim- 
 ning on any danger while he kept a good 
 look-out, and minded both his chart and 
 compass. 
 
 Tlie Owner gave him careful instructions 
 too about his voyage. He told him that he 
 might sail without any fear about the sea, 
 for that there were no sunken rocks to 
 fear ; and that the winds that were blowing 
 and filling his sails were all favourable, 
 and would continue favourable, as they had 
 set in. He told them there was one great 
 rocky island which he must beware of. 
 " It is surrounded," said the Owner,^ " by 
 a dangerous reef of coral rock, the edges of 
 which are so sharp and hard, that if your 
 ship once touches them, they would cut 
 through copper, planks, and beams, and the 
 ship would be lost. Do not thuik there is 
 no danger, because you see none — the sea
 
 72 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 may be smooth, but do not trust to it3 
 smoothness — stand off from that rocky 
 island — do not go near to it — if you were 
 once to let your vessel approach towards 
 it, there are eddies and currents that would 
 bear you and your ship nearer and nearer 
 till it strikes, and all is lost. Remember 
 what I have told you — look to your chart 
 continually — mind your compass, and then 
 your voyage will be a happy and safe one, 
 and all will be well." 
 
 So the captain went on board, and his 
 mate^ with him, and his crew and a great 
 many passengers, for it was a very large 
 ship. It was beautiful to see its sails, as 
 white as the driven snow, swelling out with 
 the gentle wind that was blowing from the 
 land, — to see its white flag, on which was 
 a king's crown worked in gold colour, 
 waving in the breeze : and, when the an- 
 chors were taken up, and the ship began 
 to move through the dark green sea, the 
 foam was driven from its bows and cut- 
 water : and as the waves broke against it
 
 THE SHIPWKECK. 73 
 
 a shower of glittering sprinkles fell, like so 
 many pearls, upon the clean decks. 
 
 The ship went on, — and all was right. 
 The captain was continually looking to his 
 chart, and steering by his compass; and, 
 though they often got sight of the danger- 
 ous island, they never went near it ; and 
 the currents and eddies which were always 
 running towards the island, drawing every- 
 thing nearer that should once come within 
 the cuiTent, had no power over the ship. 
 They kept so good a look-out that they 
 never once went near enough even to see 
 the island clearly. 
 
 But one day when the captain was in 
 another part of the ship, and the mate was 
 on deck, a strano;e man was seen m a little 
 boat; and his little boat, that rode like a 
 cork upon the waters, came swiftly towards 
 the ship. They had often seen the boat 
 before durincr the vovao-e, and had been 
 always pleased at its lightness and swiftness, 
 and the clever way in which it was managed; 
 but the man that was in the boat tliis daj
 
 74 THE SHIPWKECK. 
 
 was a stranger to tliem.^ The boat soon 
 came up to the ship, and the man in the 
 boat stood up, and seeing the mate on deck, 
 said, 
 
 " So I hear say that you are not allowed 
 to sail where you like?"^ 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the mate, " we 
 are allowed to sail where we like; for 
 we like to sail where oui' Owner has told us 
 to sail : but we are not allowed to sail to 
 the dangerous rocky island — we are not 
 even allowed to go near it, lest the ship 
 should be wrecked."® 
 
 " Oh," said the man, " there is no dan- 
 ger of your being wrecked ; you would not 
 certainly be wrecked if you went there — 
 that island is such a beautiful place that 
 your Owner does not wish you to land 
 there and see it, but wishes to keep it all 
 to himself." 9 While he was speakmg this 
 to the mate the island hove in sight (for 
 the ship was sailing fast) ; and as the sun 
 shone upon it at a distance, it looked so 
 beautiful that the mate could not help tmii-
 
 THE SHlFWliECK. 75 
 
 ing towards it. "Tliere!" said the man, 
 " see, even at tliis distance, how beautiful it 
 looks — it is indeed, even to look at, the 
 most beautiful island in the world : but if 
 you were once landed on it you would so 
 enjoy it; it is full of strange fruits, such 
 as you never saw before. Would you not 
 like now to go there, and see what your 
 Owner has thus kept out of your sight, 
 and kept all to himself, and know as much 
 about it all as he does?" 
 
 " I should," A^ said the mate ; for It began 
 to seem very hard that the owner should 
 have been so anxious to keep them from 
 going to so beautiful an island. " I should 
 very much like to see it ; and see, as we get 
 nearer to it, it looks more and more beau- 
 tiful. I can see some of the tall hills, and 
 the forests of wood, like a frincre alons the 
 sides. I think I shall steer the ship there." 
 
 By this time the beautiful ship had got 
 
 within the current, and was hurrying faster 
 
 and faster every minute towards the shore — 
 
 the currents were very strong, and sucked 
 
 G
 
 76 THE SHEPWEECK. 
 
 it along so fast, that the mate did not know 
 how fast the ship was being hurried forward. 
 The mate's eyes were fastened on the dan- 
 gerous island ; and nothing was thought of 
 but the pleasure of seemg the forbidden 
 place, and tastmg its strange fruits, and 
 knowing all about it. 
 
 While the mate was thus employed, the 
 captain came on deck, and saw in a moment 
 whither the ship was gomg. He went up 
 to the mate, who was his companion and 
 great friend ; and, though he knew all the 
 time that he was disobeying his Owner's 
 plain directions, and saw that the ship was 
 getting close to the place to which his kind 
 and good Owner, who had intrusted the 
 ship and all its crew and passengers to his 
 care, had strictly warned him not even to 
 go near, he still suffered himself to be per- 
 suaded by his mate,^^ when he heard about 
 the beauty of the island, and the reason 
 why they were told not to go near it ; and 
 though he might have turned the helm, 
 and perhaps saved himself, and his crew,
 
 THE SHIPWEECK. 77 
 
 he still kept the ship's head in the same 
 course m which the mate had set it. The 
 currents ran stronger and stronger, the 
 nearer they got to the shore ; and in a few 
 minutes a sharp coral rock cut through the 
 bottom, divided the planks and beams, as 
 if a razor had cut through them — the water 
 burst in at the rent, and the ship broke up. 
 The whole of the crew and passengers were 
 thrown into the sea. To add to their hor- 
 ror, the sky became covered with clouds, 
 so quickly that it seemed as if night had 
 suddenly come on. The smi was quite 
 hidden — ^the howling winds made the waters 
 rage and swell, and dash with fury upon 
 the rocks ; and, instead of a calm sea, and 
 a cloudless sky, and a happy voyage, and 
 a beautiful ship, they had nothing before 
 them but misery and di'owning. 
 
 But they were not drowned — some were 
 floated to the shore on pieces of the wreck, 
 and some were washed on shore by the 
 waves; but so it came to pass, that the 
 captain and his crew all reached the shore
 
 78 THE SHIPWEECK. 
 
 of the dangerous island. Cold, shivering, 
 naked, miserable, as they were, they soon 
 found that this was not the worst — they 
 were hardly landed when a troop of robbers, 
 that lived on the island (which was very 
 large), came down upon them. They seized 
 them all — put heavy chains upon them, 
 not even sparing the little children and 
 women,^2 ^nd marched them off that same 
 night to a prison, into which they threw 
 them all; and what was the poor mate's 
 surprise as he caught a sight of the Chief 
 of the Robbers, while he was holding a 
 torch to light himself along, to find that it 
 was the very same false one who had slan- 
 dered the Owner of the ship, and per- 
 suaded them to steer towards the danger- 
 ous island, by promising them so mucli 
 pleasure and good I They found that the 
 Owner had known what kind of place this 
 was, and had told them truly. 
 
 So they were all put into prison — they 
 were allowed food enough, but they could 
 not eat it with that glad and cheerful heart
 
 They buug dowu their heads." 
 
 Page'
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 79 
 
 with which they had enjoyed theu' food 
 while on their voyage. Their chains, too, 
 galled their limbs, and the iron entered 
 into their very soul. 
 
 In the middle of the next day they were 
 surprised at hearing a loud knock at their 
 prison -door; and they heard some one 
 speaking whose voice was well known to 
 them — and well known it must have been, 
 for it was the Builder of the ship. The 
 captain and his mate were ashamed to see 
 him — they hung down their heads, and got 
 into the darkest comer of the room, and 
 tried to hide themselves from him.^^ In a 
 minute the door was opened, and he came 
 in. His quick eye soon found out the 
 captain and mate, and he called them to 
 him. 
 
 "How is it that you are here?" he 
 said. 
 
 " The mate persuaded me," said the 
 trembhng captain, trjdng to excuse hun- 
 self — "the mate whom you put on board 
 my ship, as my companion and helper.
 
 80 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 persuaded me to steer tlie ship this way, 
 and I did it." 1* 
 
 "And why did you do so?" said the 
 other to the mate. 
 
 " That false man in the pilot-boat de- 
 ceived me, and I was deceived." ^^ 
 
 " You have all done very grievous wrong; 
 and if you were dealt wdth as you are wor- 
 thy to be dealt with, you would be left here 
 to chains and death : but some one w^ill be 
 sent to redeem you from prison;'^ and I 
 am come to promise you this in the name 
 of your kind Owner and Master ; and you 
 must wait patiently till tliis Person comes, 
 who will pay the ransom for every one of 
 you." So saying he left them. 
 
 The tidings he had brought cheered the 
 poor shipwrecked prisoners very much in- 
 deed, at least those who beheved what had 
 been toM them ; for a great many did not 
 believe a word. The captam and the mate 
 were both comforted, though they both 
 began to tliuik then how guilty they had 
 been, and how much misery thev had
 
 THE SHIPWEECK. 81 
 
 brought on the whole ship's crew by their 
 wilfuhiess: but the kindness and love of 
 their Master left them without excuse — 
 they no longer tried to justify themselves, 
 as they had done at first, but condemned 
 themselves for having disobeyed the plain 
 directions given to them when the ship 
 was launched for the voyage. 
 
 Those who did not believe what the 
 Friend had come to promise them, were 
 very loud in blaming both the Owner for 
 sending them with such a captain, and the 
 captaui for having brought them into so 
 much trouble. It was no wonder that these 
 should feel very miserable, because the hope 
 of deliverance and liberty, which cheered 
 the others, could not cheer them, for they 
 did not believe they ever should be ran- 
 somed. The captain's eldest son was one 
 of the worst of thei^e. He had a perfect ha- 
 tred to the Owner of the ship, and little love 
 for his father, or indeed any one but him- 
 self He mocked at all who were comfort- 
 ing themselves with the hope of being one
 
 82 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 day set free ; and, while lie would not be- 
 lieve the promise of deliverance himself, he 
 envied and hated those who did ; ^^ and so 
 indeed did all who had been there and had 
 heard the promise made, but did not believe 
 it. The people who were in the other parts 
 of the great prison did not all hear of the 
 coming of the Friend ; some of them, indeed, 
 heard a kmd of half report of it, but knew 
 nothing clearly about it. 
 
 A long, long time passed, and yet no 
 one came to redeem tlie poor shipwrecked 
 prisoners. The Friend visited them from 
 time to time, and renewed the promise in 
 the name of the Owner ; and every time he 
 came he spoke more plainly about it 
 Sometimes he ivrote to some of the pri- 
 soners (for he knew them all), and they 
 read their letter to the rest ; and in some 
 of the letters the name of the person who 
 was to come was written, and in others it 
 was said who he was, and what kind of 
 person he was, and what he would do, and 
 a great many other particulars. All this
 
 THE SHTPWEECK. 83 
 
 kept up the hopes of those who really be- 
 lieved that the Owner of the ship meant 
 that they should be redeemed. 
 
 At last the Person came. A great many 
 of the prisoners had not been contented to 
 wait and see how and when their Deliverer 
 should come, but had laid it down that he 
 ought to be such and such a kind of person 
 — that he ought to come with great state 
 and pomp, like a king — and so on. 
 
 One day a person came into the prison, 
 and said that he had come to pay their 
 ransom. These people looked at him, and 
 despised him in their heart, and said, ''He 
 could not be their deliverer, for he had not 
 come at all as they knew he would come ; 
 that he was too poor-looking a man to be 
 able to pay for them ;" and so they despised 
 him in their hearts. He loas a poor man 
 in his outward look ; he was not dressed in 
 any fine or beautiful clothes ;i^ he came 
 alone too ; he was very gentle and kind in 
 his manner and way of speaking ;^9 and 
 his looks showed that he was very sorry
 
 84 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 for their trouble. He stopped with them 
 in the prison for some time. Though the 
 keeper of the prison could not have made 
 him to do so, yet he shared of his own 
 accord every hardship which the prisoners 
 underwent.*^ He showed, almost as soon 
 as he had come to them, that he was sent 
 to deliver them ; he showed them letters 
 from the Owner, their Master, written with 
 his own hand, and sealed with his own 
 seal;"^ and these letters he allowed every 
 one of them that wished to read. Many 
 read them :• but those who had refused to 
 believe that he was the person sent, though 
 they read the letters, said they were for- 
 geries ; that he had got some one to copy 
 the hand-writing and the seal, and that 
 they were not to be depended on."- These 
 men treated him not only with no respect, 
 but with the greatest unkindness ; and 
 though he bore it all most meekly, and 
 never answered their bad lan<iua<2;e and 
 hard speeches,-^ yet they went on the more 
 for that; and all the comfort he found was
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 85 
 
 with the few that had looked forward to 
 his coming, who had believed the promise, 
 and now rejoiced when they saw the let- 
 ters of their IMaster. This kind friend also 
 thought what a joy it would be to him to 
 deliver these poor captives, to take off their 
 chains, and bring them back clothed and 
 happy to the land from which they had 
 sailed; and the thought of doing this 
 cheered him all the while he was in the 
 prison."* 
 
 At last the day came which had been 
 appointed for paying the ransom, and the 
 keeper of the prison was very busy, and 
 being very unwilling to part with his pri- 
 soners, did all he could with his servants 
 to annoy and vex and harass the man, and 
 make him change his mind. They told 
 him he never could have enough to redeem 
 so many with ; that it would be better to 
 let it alone and leave them: but he had 
 come to deliver them, and he Avould not go 
 back whence he came without havino- done 
 it. They all saw him go out, and he told
 
 86 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 them before La went out wluat he was going 
 to do, and promised that when he had paid 
 the ransom to the last farthing, he would 
 come back to them : and so he left them. 
 
 He was three days gone, and many of 
 them began to fear that they had hoped in 
 vain, and to no purpose.'-^ But early on 
 the third day he returned, and the moment 
 they saw him they knew that he must have 
 paid the ransom ; "^ and it was so. The 
 jailor came and set the doors of the prison 
 open, though he did it surlily, and against 
 his will, and every one had free leave to 
 go out. But strange to tell, the men who 
 had refused to believe the promise that they 
 should be delivered, had treated the deli- 
 verer with such unkindness when he came, 
 refused (at least many of them) to go out 
 of their prison ; they said, " they were quite 
 satisfied where they were ; they liked the 
 darkness better than the sickening licrht of 
 the day ; and they had become so used to 
 their chains that they would not leave the 
 prison." And the jailor promised that if
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 87 
 
 they stayed with him they should be well 
 fed and well kept ; they were contented and 
 stopped there. 
 
 As for the others, they left the prison ; 
 and the air smelt so fresh, after the close 
 dampness of the prison, that it seemed to 
 fill them with new life. By Httle and little 
 the grey streak in the east grew broader 
 and brighter, the grey changed into bright 
 white, and the white into orange, and the 
 orange into a blaze of glory as the sun rose 
 above the hills. The poor prisoners had 
 heard, as they walked along, the howling 
 of wild beasts near them, which made their 
 hearts sink with fear ; but as the day rose, 
 these fierce creatures gat them away toge- 
 ther, and lay down in their dens ; and even 
 before the day, whilst it was yet dark, no 
 ravenous beast actually came across the 
 road in which they were walking, and they 
 did not feel so afraid as they would have 
 felt by themselves, because He, their Friend 
 and Deliverer, was with them.-^ But he 
 left them soon, though he did not leave them
 
 88 THE shiptvreck:. 
 
 without a gmJe. He told them to wait at 
 a certain place by the way till his guide 
 should come. They waited accordingly for 
 him, and in a little while he came. Their 
 Friend, before he left, told them that it was 
 for their good he was going away ; -^ " he 
 was then returning home," he said, " to 
 make everything ready for receiving them 
 back," -9 and he promised to come and meet 
 them when they reached the sea, and be 
 with them when they got on board the sliip 
 which he would send to carry them across.^*^ 
 He earnestly charged them to keep close to 
 their Guide, and not leave him for a mi- 
 nute,^^ and assured them that if they did so 
 that Guide would undertake to bring them 
 all safe to the shore.^^
 
 NOTES. 89 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ' Job, xxxviii. 4, 5, 7. — "Where wast thou when I laid 
 the foundations of the earth ? who laid the measures 
 thereof, if thou knowest ? or who hath stretched the 
 line upon it ? — When the morning-stars sang together, 
 and all the sons of God shouted for joy ? 
 
 ^ Gen. i. 25. — And God saw that it was good. 
 
 ^ Gen. i. 26. — And God said, Let us make man in 
 our image, after our likeness, and let them have domi- 
 nion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the 
 air, and over the cattle, and over ell the earth, and over 
 every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth, 
 
 * Gen. ii. 17. — But of the tree of the knowledge of 
 good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it : for in the day 
 that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die. 
 
 5 Gen. ii. 18. — And the Lord God said. It is not good 
 that the man should he alone ; I will make him an help 
 meet for him. 
 
 ^ Gen. iii. 1. — Now the serpent was more subtle than 
 any beast of the field, which the Lord God had made. 
 
 ' Gen. iii. 1. — And he said unto the woman. Yea, 
 hath God said. Ye shall not eat of every tree of the 
 garden ? 
 
 8 Gen. iii. 2, 3. — And the woman said unto the ser- 
 pent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the gar- 
 H
 
 90 NOTES. 
 
 den ; but of the 'ruit of the tree which is in the midst 
 of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, nei- 
 ther shall ye touch it, lest ye die. 
 
 ^ Gen. iii. 4, 5. — And the serpent said unto the wo- 
 man. Ye shall not surely die; for God doth know that 
 in the day ye eat thereof your eyes shall be opened, and 
 ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. 
 
 '" Gen. iii. 6 And when the woman saw that the 
 
 tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the 
 eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took 
 of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her 
 husband with her, and he did eat. 
 
 '' 1 Tim. ii. 14. — And Adam was not deceived, but 
 the woman being deceived was in the transgression. 
 
 '^ Rom. v. 18. — Therefore, by the offence of one, 
 judgment came upon all men to condemnation. 
 
 '^ Gen. iii. 8. — And they heard the voice of the Lord 
 God walking in the garden, in the cool of the day : and 
 Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of 
 the Lord God, among the trees of the garden. 
 
 •■* Gen. iii. 12. — And the man said, The woman whom 
 thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and 
 I did eat. 
 
 '^ Gen. iii. 13. — And the Lord God said unto the 
 woman. What is this that thou hast done .' And the 
 woman said. The serpent beguiled me, and T did eat. 
 
 '^ Gen. iii. 15. — I will put enmity between thee and 
 the woman, and between thy seed and her seed — it 
 shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel. 
 
 '^ Gen. iv. 5. — And Cain was very wroth, and his
 
 KOTtS. 91 
 
 countenance fell. 1 John, iii. 13. — Marvel not, my bre- 
 thren, if the world hate you. 
 
 '^ Isa. liii. 2, 3. — He hath no form nor comeliness, 
 and when we shall see him there is no beauty that we 
 should desire him.— He is despised and rejected of men. 
 
 '^ jNIatt. xi. 29. — Learn of me ; for I am meek and 
 lowly in heart. 
 
 ^ Heb. ii. 17. — Wherefore in all things it behoved 
 him to be made like unto his brethren. 
 
 ^' Acts, ii. 22. — Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved 
 of God among you by miracles and wonders and signs, 
 which God did by him in the midst of you. 
 
 " Matt. ix. 34.— He casteth out devils by the prince 
 of devils. 
 
 ^•* Isa. xlii. 2, and Matt. xii. 19.— He shall not stnve 
 nor cry, neither shall any man hear his voice in tne 
 streets. 
 
 2* Heb. xii. 2. — Who for the joy that was set before 
 him endured the cross, despising the shame. 
 
 "^^ Luke, xxiv. 21. — But we trusted that it had been 
 he which should have redeemed Israel ; and besides all 
 this, to-day is the third day since these things were done. 
 
 ^ Rom, iv. 25. — Who was dehvered for our offences, 
 and raised again for our justification. 
 
 ^^ Isaiah, xxxv. 8, 9. — And an highway shall be there, 
 and a way, and it shall be called. The way of hoUness ; 
 the unclean shall not pass over it ; but it shall be for 
 those [for He shall be with them] — the wayfaring men, 
 though fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be 
 there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it
 
 92 NOTES. 
 
 shall not be foun^ there ; but the redeemed shall walk 
 there. 
 
 28 John, xvi. 7.— Nevertheless I tell you the truth ; 
 it is expedient for you that I go away : for if I go not 
 away, the Comforter will not come unto you ; but if I 
 depart, I will send him unto you. 
 
 29 John, xiv. 2. — In my Father's house are many 
 mansions ; if it were not so, I would have told you. I 
 go to prepare a place for you. 
 
 '''° Ps. xxiii. 4. — Yea, though I walk through the val- 
 ley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou 
 art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 
 
 3^ 1 John, ii. 28. — And now, little children, abide i: 
 him. 
 
 32 1 John, ii. 27. — But the anointing which ye have 
 received of him abidcth in you.
 
 THE RACE. 
 
 There was a certain King who ruled 
 over many different kingdoms.^ His pa- 
 lace, which was a most glorious one, was 
 in the chief place of his chief kingdom. 
 There the happy people, who were his sub- 
 jects and servants, continually beheld his 
 glory ; though it was so great and dazzling 
 that they were obliged to put their wings 
 before their eyes when they went near it ; a 
 bright and glorious light, always streaming 
 from the King's throne, made them stand 
 in no need of any other light — it was al- 
 ways far lighter there than in the brightest 
 noonday — mdeed there was no night there. 
 This light, that streamed from the throne 
 of the King, shot through the windows of the 
 palace, and through the walls, which were 
 of gold, yet, strange to tell, could be seen
 
 94 THE RACE. 
 
 through as if they had been glass ; it made 
 the streets of the city, which were like the 
 walls of the palace, glitter and shine like a 
 golden sea, and lighted up the gates of the 
 city, which were each made of one pearl, 
 and the walls of the city, which were of 
 precious stones; and then travelling on 
 many million times faster than the swift 
 sunbeams, made even the furthest corner 
 of that happy kingdom lighter than ours is 
 in the brightest noonday. 
 
 The people of that kingdom were all 
 happy ; they loved their King with a per- 
 fect love, and they all loved one another. 
 They all had golden harps, on which they 
 played the sweetest music, and sang hymns 
 of praise in honour of their beloved King. 
 Those golden harps were never known to 
 be out of tune ; and though each one played 
 and sung what came into his mind, there 
 was no discord : it seemed as if there was 
 one mind in all these happy millions ; and 
 when they played it was as if one hand was 
 playing all their harps, and one voice sing-
 
 THE EACE. 95 
 
 ing in all tlieir voices, tlioiigli the somid of 
 their singing was like the sound of many- 
 waters. 
 
 Some of these were much higher in rank 
 than the rest, and these chief ones were al- 
 ways standing nearest to the King's throne. 
 But they were so humble, and they loved 
 their King so much, that they had no will 
 of their own. If he told the very highest 
 of his servants, who stood the nearest to his 
 glorious throne, to fly to some place in one 
 of his other many kingdoms, it made no 
 difference to the servant what he was bidden 
 to do ; - it was quite enough for liim that 
 his King told him to do it. Sometimes the 
 King would send him to help some one that 
 loved him, to conquer his enemies, and to 
 cover his head from the arrows in battle ; 
 sometimes he would send him to watch by 
 the cradle of a little dying baby, and to 
 carry its soul into the happy paradise : the 
 King's servant was as glad to fly to help the 
 sick baby as the great soldier. They were 
 never tired of either praising their King or
 
 96 THE RACE. 
 
 of doing what lie told them: they never 
 knew what it was to be weary as we are : 
 they never wanted to sleep, for it was 
 always day: they were never idle, but 
 always busy and always happy; for the 
 light that poured from the throne filled 
 every heart with joy unspeakable, ^and 
 made them smg for joy, just as the l^j^t 
 of the sun makes the birds rejoice among 
 us. Such was that happy kingdom. 
 
 But there was one among the many king- 
 doms, which that Great King ruled over, 
 where they were not happy. The people 
 there had refused to do what the King told 
 them, and had said, " We will not have 
 this King to i-ule over us." They had been 
 persuaded to do this by a wicked one, who 
 had once lived in the Great Kind's o^vn 
 kingdom, and had stood very near his throne. 
 But he became proud — (it is not known why 
 or how) — he made many of the other happy 
 people discontented and proud like himself, 
 and the Son of the King drove them all out 
 of liis liappy kingdom. ^ But this wicked
 
 THE RACE. 97 
 
 rebel could not rest without doing miscliief; 
 so he went among the people of that other 
 country and stuTed them up agamst their 
 King, persuading them that they would not 
 be the worse if they disobeyed, that they 
 would have their liberty, and do what they 
 liked, which they would find very pleasant, 
 and that it was not at all certain they would 
 be punished for it.* They were foolish 
 enough to listen to these wicked falsehoods, 
 and they suffered for doing so. From that 
 hour they were never at peace ; there was 
 something w^thm them that told them they 
 had done wrong, and they could not rest. 
 They were always quarrelling with one 
 another; and the Great King did punish 
 them directly (as he had said he should) by 
 sending sickness, and pain, and at last death 
 upon them. What a diflPerence between tliis 
 sad place and the other happy kingdom ! 
 
 But the Great King was very sorry for 
 these poor misguided people ! He did not 
 wish to throw them into the same dreadful 
 prison which he had prepared for the Great
 
 98 TEE RACE. 
 
 Rebel and his companions. He had said 
 indeed that they should die (and he could 
 not break his word) ; but as he wished, after 
 then' bodies were dead, to take their spirits 
 to live in his own happy kmgdom, he sent 
 his own Son from his palace to tell them 
 what he wished to do for them, and what 
 they must do. 
 
 So the Son of the great King put off the 
 glittering di'ess which he wore at home, for 
 it would have been too bright for them to 
 look at : indeed, when once or twice he put 
 it on, only for a few minutes, to show some 
 of those he loved the best what kind of a 
 dress it was, it was almost more than they 
 could bear. One was struck blind for three 
 days after looking at it,^ and another al- 
 most lost his recollection through the ex- 
 cessive brightness of that glorious dress.^ 
 The Kind's Son, havins; come amoncp the 
 poor rebels, told them his kind errand ; he 
 said, "that his father was very sorry for 
 their unhappy condition, and loved them 
 very much notwithstanding their rebellion:
 
 THE EACE. 99 
 
 cliat lie was willing to forgive them for all 
 that was past, and take them after they 
 should die into his own happy kmgdom; 
 but that, in order to obtam this great bless- 
 ing they must run for a prize, which he 
 should give; and that every one who should 
 get the prize should have a right to wear it 
 in the happy kingdom ; should become one 
 of his own servants there, and be made 
 equal to those other happy servants of his, 
 who were always near his throne, and re- 
 joicing m the light of his favour." 
 
 The King's Son did more than this, he 
 showed them himself how they were to 
 run : he went through the exercises which 
 were necessary to prepare them for the 
 race : he told them that his Father had ap- 
 pointed him to be the judge of the race, to 
 give away the crowns ; and that he might 
 know all the difficulties of the race, so as 
 to feel for those who were to run, the King's 
 Son himself ran a course by himself,^ and 
 then went away to a place from which he 
 could see and watch the runners.
 
 100 THE RACE. 
 
 After this, rpessengers were sent by him 
 into almost all parts of the comitry to 
 publish these glad tidings, and to give 
 notice of the race that was to be run. 
 Many of the rebellious people took no ac- 
 count whatever of the news, but went on 
 just as before. Some said, " they did not 
 believe that it was true;" others said, "the 
 prize was not worth tryuig for;" others 
 said, " ^^'hy should not they get it without 
 rmming for it at all ? " so that a very great 
 number indeed took no pains to get ready 
 for r mining the race. Still a srreat many 
 did. 
 
 The Prince's messengers gave to every 
 one who wished to try for the prize a paper 
 of directions. This paper they told them 
 to read and consider carefully, because their 
 gettmg the prize would very much depend 
 on the attention they should have paid to 
 the Prmce's rules. The people who had 
 believed, without any doubt, the tidings 
 brought them by the Prince's messengers, 
 took the paper of directions with thankful*
 
 THE TxACE. 101 
 
 ness, and began to read it at once, that they 
 might get ready for the race. They were 
 rejoiced to find that in this race it was not 
 to be as in other races ; in which, though 
 there are many who run, only one receives 
 the prize ; in this race (as the Prince told 
 them in the paper) every one who ran well 
 would get the prize.^ They were told also, 
 that it would be necessary for them to ex- 
 ercise themselves frequently, to put off all 
 ^heir clothing,^ and anoint themselves con- 
 tinually with oil to make their limbs supple 
 and nimble. 
 
 The place appointed for the race was a 
 wide plain. Persons from all parts of the 
 country were flocking together to the race. 
 Among them many came there who had 
 at first treated the Prince's message as if 
 it had nothing to do with them ; but when 
 they saw others preparing for the race, 
 studying the paper of directions, and exer- 
 cising themselves in running, these were 
 led to change their minds, to consider the 
 matter, and ask for a paper of directions for
 
 102 THE KACE. 
 
 themselves.9 Many others came and put 
 dowTi their names in the book of runners, 
 who, though they had received the paper 
 of directions, had not attended to it, and 
 had scarcely read them through.^" They 
 said they should indeed like to win the 
 crown and go into the happy kingdom, but 
 they thought they were quite able to run 
 without all the trouble that others were tak- 
 ing ; it seemed all clear and easy to them, 
 and so they took no pains about preparing, 
 but went on just as if there had been no 
 directions at all given them, and as if they 
 knew more about the matter than either 
 the Kmg who had appointed the race and 
 promised the prize, or the Prmce who had 
 come so far and taken so much trouble to 
 tell them what his Father's wishes were. 
 
 Many of these were talking together 
 about the race, and they seemed to make 
 quite sure of the prize; they said, "It is 
 not a very long com'se, my breath is good, 
 and I am a swift runner ; I am sure I am 
 more likely to get first to the end than
 
 THE RACE. 103 
 
 that poor weak-looking creature ^^ there, 
 though he has been studying the paper so 
 carefully, and oiling himself every day, and 
 exercising so continually. I shall start just 
 as I am; the clothes I have on are very 
 light, and will not hmder my running, and 
 I see no reason why I should strip myself 
 bare : so I mean to do no such thing, and 
 we shall see whether those who do so will 
 be any the better for doing so." 
 
 Another said, " If I were to put off my 
 clothes, I must give up everything that is 
 in them, and I do not wish to do that — 
 there are a great many little valuable things 
 I have no mind to part with ; there is my 
 money, and some trinkets and other thmgs. 
 I mean, therefore, to follow your example 
 and not give up my clothes."^- 
 
 Another said, " Look at that man there ! 
 what is he about? he is puttmg something 
 on his eyes ; it looks like salve — what can 
 he want with that ? — he must have weak 
 eyes, I suppose. Let us go and ask him 
 what he is domg, and why,^
 
 104 THE RACE. 
 
 So these m?n went up to the man who 
 was putting somethmg on his eves, and 
 asked him what he was doing. He said, 
 " I am doincp what I was told to do in the 
 paper of directions wliich the Prince's mes- 
 senger gave me. I read there that, in 
 order to be able to run the race and see my 
 way clearly, I must get some eye-salve to 
 make my sight strong and clear : ^^ so I 
 went to get some." 
 
 "How much did it cost?" said one of 
 the men. " Nothing," answered the other. 
 " I only went to the place where the paper 
 told me that a store of it was kept by a 
 person in the Prince's service. I asked 
 for some in the Prince's name, and the 
 man gave me some directly and said, ' This 
 is given you — you have nothing to pay for 
 it — it is given you by the Prmce without 
 money and without price.'" 
 
 " Well," said the man who was askinn- 
 about the salve ; " and what good did this 
 eye-salve do to you? I suppose you saw 
 before as well as I do?** 
 
 I
 
 THE RACE. 105 
 
 " I thought I saw," said the other, " be- 
 fore I put on the salve ; but I now feel 
 that I was, as it were, blind before, though 
 I used, like you, to say I saw^ clearly enough. 
 I will tell you now what it has done for 
 me. I find, wdien I am exercising for the 
 race, I can see the ground I am going over 
 quite clearly ; I can see the smallest stone 
 that would throw me down ; I can see whe- 
 ther the ground is smooth or rough, often 
 before I get to it, and always when I come 
 to it, so as to know how to manage my 
 steps. Once or twice, before I got this 
 eye-salve, I had very nearly lost my life by 
 falling down some of the pits that lay in 
 my w^ay : I was sadly bruised. But now I 
 seem to know w^hen the gromid is safe and 
 wdien it is unsound, and I can run with 
 confidence and steadmess, because I clearly 
 see my way." 
 
 '' You cannot persuade me," said one of 
 
 the other men, "that you see any better 
 
 than I do. I have looked along the ground 
 
 on which we are to run, and it all appears 
 
 I
 
 106 THE RACE. 
 
 plain enougli to me.^* / see no roughness, 
 nor the stones that you talk of: and as for 
 pits in a course, who ever heard of them ? 
 Let me alone to see a pit by daylight." 
 
 So they went away laughing at the man, 
 who said nothing, but looked as if he was 
 very sorry for them. 
 
 The Prince, the Kmg's Son, who was a}> 
 pointed by his Father to give the prizes, was 
 seated at the end of the course, where he 
 could mark everything that was done. 
 ]\Iultitudes of the bright people from the 
 Kmg's own country had flown down to wit- 
 ness the race; some of them stood near the 
 Prince's seat, others were to be seen here 
 and there at different parts of the course, 
 and some were watching the persons who 
 were about to rmi.^^ 
 
 Those people, who had got the paper of 
 directions from the Prince's messengers, be- 
 gan to get ready. They took off all their 
 clothing,!^ for they were told that it was 
 quite impossible for them to rim well with- 
 out laying aside every weight ; they did not
 
 THE RACE, 107 
 
 seem to mind losing their own clothing 
 and giving up what was in it ; they put 
 it off and did not turn hack to look at it as 
 it lay upon the ground, hut kept their eyes 
 fixed on that end of the course where the 
 Prince sat. It seemed as if they caught 
 sight of him from time to time, for their 
 eyes sparkled with joy; and the crowns, 
 which hung near him glittering with living 
 light, seemed to them to flash and twinkle 
 like small stars in a clear frosty night, as 
 they looked steadily towards them. But it 
 was strange that, though they seemed to 
 wish to put off everything of their own, 
 there w^as a very thin kind of scarf, which, 
 according to the custom of the country, 
 they all wore, which many of them seemed 
 quite to overlook. ^^ They appeared to think 
 this scarf of no gi'eat consequence, and it 
 clmig so close to their bodies, and was so 
 thin and hght, that they scarcely felt that 
 there was anything on them. Others, how- 
 ever, were anxious to get this quite off. 
 Some did, after many hard pulls, get off a
 
 108 THE KACE. 
 
 part of it (for it was very strong, though it 
 looked so thin and airy), but in every case 
 there was a pz>ce of this thin garment that 
 still clung to them. Some few of those who 
 took off their clothes (though they were 
 very few) kept looking at them wistfully, as 
 if they were loath to give them up. They 
 took out the things which they were going 
 to leave, and seemed inclmed (if they could 
 have done so) to take them along with them. 
 It was plain that, though they had taken off 
 their clothing because the paper of direc- 
 tions told them they must do so, they did 
 not do it heartily as the others did, for 
 these did not even try to pull off* the tliin 
 scarf, but seemed to think that that could 
 not possibly hinder them in running. 
 
 And now all was ready. And they be- 
 gan to run — not, as in other races, all to- 
 gether, but when each was ready he set 
 off", — for every one that finished his course 
 safely and reached the end was promised 
 one of those glittering, sparkling cro\^ms. 
 So some started alone — some with one or
 
 THE RACE. 109 
 
 two others ; but I observed that those who 
 had done all they could to follow the Prince's 
 directions were very glad to see others 
 running though they did not know them, 
 because they had come from a different part 
 from themselves ; I saw some even stop to 
 help up one who had slipped. But the 
 others who luould try to run, though they 
 had altogether refused to get ready, or even 
 to inquire how they were to get ready, were 
 continually running foul of one another, 
 jostling and pushing one another ; and 
 when one fell over a stone which he did not 
 see, or slipped going down a sudden hill 
 when he thought himself on smooth ground, 
 none of the rest stopped to help him, but 
 cried out, " Well, I thought he would have 
 known better than that ; " and so they went 
 on their way.^^ 
 
 I observed that all those who had been 
 most sure about themselves,^ ^ before they 
 began running, were the first to fall after 
 they had started. Some of them ran full 
 up against a large stone, and fell over it,
 
 1 10 THE RACE. 
 
 violently bruis'ng themselves. When they 
 rose, they seemed quite angry with the 
 stone, but never seemed to blame them- 
 selves for not seeing it. A few of these 
 got up, and after w^aiting a little while tried 
 to run a little further, till, not seeing some- 
 thing else which happened to lie in their 
 way, they again dashed their feet against 
 it, and then they went no further, but 
 turned and walked back. 
 
 I observed that many dark-looking things 
 were hovering about the course, and parti- 
 cularly about those men ; and I saw that 
 these great stones were actually dropped 
 in their w^ay.- I soon found that those dark 
 and wicked-looking creatures were some of 
 the Great Rebel's company, and that they 
 had gathered together to watch the race, 
 and do all they could to prevent the men 
 from running at all; to persuade them that 
 they could rmi well enough as they were ; 
 and when they had begun to run, to throw 
 them down and turn them back from the 
 
 course. 
 
 CO
 
 THE EACE. Ill 
 
 I marked, too, the other bright and 
 glorious-looking creatures, who had come 
 down from the King's own country — they 
 were closely watching the other runners. 
 I saw that these rmmers did not run very 
 fast at first. Indeed, those wdio did were 
 generally the same that had seemed imwill- 
 ing to leave all their clothes behind, and 
 they soon got tired — their breath was spent 
 — they first slackened their pace — then ran 
 very slowly — then stopped — then sat down 
 — then turned to look back — and then a 
 great many of them went back and took up 
 their clothes, and put them on one by one. 
 I saw that every one of these had on the 
 scarf quite ivhole, having not even tried to 
 take it ofp. Nothing, however, could look 
 more miserable than they did after they 
 had turned away from the course : the dark, 
 wicked-looking creatures flocked round 
 them and whispered all kinds of horrid 
 things into their ears ; the other men jibed 
 and jeered at them — called them fools for 
 their pains ; and I was told that, after they
 
 112 THE EACE. 
 
 had reached ^heir home again, many of 
 these, to get rid (as they thought) of their 
 misery, threw tliemselves down from the 
 rocks and were killed.*^ 
 
 I now watched the runners. I saw that 
 none of them looked back — their eyes were 
 either straight forward in the direction of 
 the Prince's throne, or fixed on the path in 
 wdiich they were running."- The scarf 
 which had at first clung closely to their 
 bodies, began to get loose as they ran faster, 
 and, filling with the wind, turned often 
 romid their legs, and sorely hindered them ; 
 and though only a part of it was left, still 
 even this greatly inconvenienced them. 
 Many a time it drew oflp their eyes from 
 the ground on which they were going to 
 set their feet, as well as from the Prince's 
 throne and the glittering crowns, so that 
 for a while they saw neither one nor the 
 other. While one of them was trying to 
 fasten up the scarf, I saw one of those 
 wicked ones come near and whisper some- 
 thing in his ear and drop a stone in his
 
 THE EACE. 113 
 
 way; but at the same moment one of 
 those glorious winged creatures of the 
 King's country flew like lightning to the 
 place, bore up the runner, who was on the 
 point of dashing his foot agamst the stone, 
 and drove away the wicked one to a dis- 
 tance.-^ 
 
 When these men first began to run, it 
 was not very light about the path; and 
 when they were busy about their scarf, 
 trjdng to fasten it about them, they seemed 
 to lose even that light ; but as they went 
 further and further on, and kept their eyes 
 steadily turned towards the Prince's throne, 
 beams of bricrht lio-ht shot alono; the course, 
 and reached to where they were, lighting up 
 their path, and showing clearly even the 
 smallest stone in their way; and, at the 
 same time, the crovv'ns glittered and sparkled 
 in the light, and they could almost fancy 
 they saw a smile of encouragement on the 
 Prince's face.-"* 
 
 All the runners met with falls in their 
 course. None went the whole distance
 
 1 14 THE RACE. 
 
 without falling, and some severely ; but it 
 seemed as if when these fell, instead of their 
 fall making them wish to turn back, it 
 made them look more carefully to their feet 
 and more steadily forward. And I observed, 
 that as most of them fell through the 
 scarf's getting twisted round then' legs or 
 feet, they generally stopped after their fall, 
 and made fresh endeavours to pull it off, 
 though none of them could pull it off 
 entirely. 
 
 There was one runner who had received 
 his paper of directions from one of the 
 Prince's messengers, and had afterwards 
 seen the Prince himself. This man seemed 
 a quick and earnest man. While exercising 
 himself he met with several slight falls, 
 through over-eagerness and want of looking 
 sufficiently to his steps ; and once got such 
 a fall, that he might never have recovered 
 from it had it not been for the Prince's 
 particular kindness. He had been warned 
 that he would have to pass through some 
 snares, laid by the wicked ones in a par-
 
 THE RACE. 115 
 
 ticular part of the course, throiTgh which 
 they knew he would run. But he had 
 such confidence in himself, and thought he 
 had practised so well that he need not fear. 
 However, when he came to the first snare, 
 which was very craftily laid, and took him 
 quite by surprise, he was suddenly thrown 
 on the ground, and was bruised before he 
 knew where he was.^^ He got up and 
 went on a very little way, still trusting his 
 own eye-sight, and not givmg one look 
 towards the Prince, and he was again thrown 
 down with violence. He got up angry and 
 vexed, but still not convinced of his rash- 
 ness, and was again flung down with such 
 violence by a strong net which caught his 
 feet, that for a little while he lay for dead; 
 indeed, some of the wicked ones thought 
 him dead, "and thought they had put an 
 end to his running ; but just at that moment 
 a bright ray of light shot along the course 
 from the Prince's seat ; "^ the poor runner 
 raised his head, and by the light* cotdd see 
 the Prince looking at him with so much
 
 116 THE RACE. 
 
 tender pity ant^ kindness and love, that he 
 got up, bruised indeed, and sadly hurt, 
 but still alive; he wept with sorrow and 
 joy; and during the rest of his course, 
 excepting only once,^^ ran steadily, and 
 with his face looking straight forward. 
 I saw that those bright and glorious 
 creatures, who were watching to help these 
 runners, seemed as anxious about them as 
 if they were themselves running for the 
 crown : when any of them fell they looked 
 sad; wlien, though sometimes sorely bruised 
 and limping for a while, they rose and went 
 on again, the glorious creatures shook their 
 golden wings, and rejoiced with exceeding 
 great joy. 
 
 I was able to see quite to the end of the 
 course, and saw several of the runners reach 
 the end. As they came nearer to the crown, 
 I observed how they ran more steadily than 
 ever, though they had often to pass through 
 a little crowd of those wicked ones, who 
 gathered towards the end, and now did all 
 they could to push the runners down, as
 
 THE RACE. 117 
 
 they had tried, witli all their might, at first 
 to pull them back when they had just started. 
 But all their endeavours were in vain ; the 
 bright and glorious creatures drove away 
 the wicked ones, so that very few got any 
 harm or fall ; they seemed by their looks 
 as if they could see the Prince, and there 
 was a lio'ht shinino- on their countenance 
 from the place where the Prince sat, which 
 made them look quite dazzlmg ; it seemed, 
 too, as if, when they got very near, they 
 could also see those glorious creatures who 
 were about them. I saw one runner who 
 had come within a very short distance of 
 the Prince's seat. This runner had had 
 a very hard run, and over a great deal of 
 broken ground. He ran among the first 
 that started, and was one of those who had 
 refused to take any notice of the Prince's 
 proclamation at first, and even shamefully 
 ill-treated the messeno-ers who had brouo-ht 
 the news, and scoffed at those who had begun 
 the race. But his mind was suddenly 
 changed, and no one had rmi more steadily
 
 118 THE RACE. 
 
 and with fewer stops than this runner. He 
 had succeeded in pulling off the greater 
 part of his scarf, and had kept his eyes so 
 steadily turned towards the Prince's seat/^ 
 and had used the eje-salve so continually, 
 that he had the clearest view of the crowns 
 and of the Prince himself from time to 
 time ; so much so, that one of the wicked 
 ones was allowed to try him a good deal 
 on his way, more than the other runners, 
 to make- him look to his feet and mind 
 how he ran.*9 I saw this runner, as he 
 came close to the end of the course, catch 
 a full view of the glittering crown which 
 the Kmg had prepared for him, for the 
 crowns were of dilFerent sizes, and some 
 much more glorious and sparkling than 
 others, though all were almost too bright 
 to look at, for the least bright shone more 
 dazzlingly than the noonday sun. And 
 every cro\\ai had got the runner's name 
 written on it. I heard this ruimer say, as 
 he came close to the end of the race, " I 
 have finished my course ; henceforth there
 
 Will have golden harps given them. 
 
 Page 11&.
 
 THE EACE. 119 
 
 is laid up for me a crown of glory, which 
 the righteous Judge shall give me at that 
 day;"^° and soon after I lost sight of him, 
 a cloud came over that part of the ground, 
 and he was lost in the cloud. 
 
 The race was still going on when I left 
 it. When the last runner shall have finished 
 his course, the Prince, with all those glorious 
 creatures, and all the conquering rtimiers, 
 wearing their crowns and white garments, 
 whiter than the di'iven snow, and carrying 
 palms in their hands, wiU all go together 
 into the King's coimtry. The runners will 
 have golden harps given them, and without 
 having heard it before, they wiU all join in 
 a most beautiful song, m honour of the 
 Great Kincp and the Prince his son.^^ 
 They will see the Kmg m all his beauty — 
 wiU walk in the light of that happy land — 
 will behold the streets of clear gold, as 
 clear as crystal, the gates of pearl, and drink 
 of that river the streams whereof make 
 glad the city of the great King. There 
 will be no more pain there, neither sorrow 
 
 K
 
 120 THE RACE. 
 
 nor crying, neither will there be any more 
 death, for all those things will then have 
 passed away for ever.^" 
 
 But all those miserable men, who refused 
 to attend to what the Prince and liis mes- 
 sengers said, and would not run at all, 
 or turned back when they had begun, will 
 be driven away with those wicked rebels 
 into a dreadful prison, where no light ever 
 comes, and where nothing is heard but curses 
 and blasphemy, yells of anguish — blaming 
 and accusing one another, and where they 
 will shed scalding tears at the remembrance 
 that they were so foolish as to refuse the 
 King's kmdness : they will grind their teeth 
 like madmen, with rage and malice against 
 the Kmg, against themselves, against their 
 wretched companions, and those wicked 
 ones who kept them from trying for the 
 prize, or threw them down while they were 
 rurmmo;. 
 
 O let us try to run, and so run that we 
 may obtain*
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 121 
 
 ' Ps. ciii. 19.— The Lord hath prepared his throne in 
 the heavens, and his kingdom ruleth over all. 
 
 - Ps. ciii. 20. — Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that 
 excel in strength ; that do his commandments, hearken- 
 ing to the voice of his words. 
 
 3 Rev. xii. 7-9. — And there was war in heaven: 
 Michael and his angels fought against the Dragon: 
 and the great Dragon was cast out, that old serpent 
 called the Devil and Satan, which deceiveth the whole 
 world. 
 
 '' Gen. iii. 4. — And the serpent said, Ye shall not 
 surely die. 
 
 5 Acts, xxii. 11.— And when I could not see for the 
 brightness of that light — 
 
 6 Mark, ix. 6.— For he wist not what to say, for they 
 were sore afraid. 
 
 7 1 Pet. ii. 21. — Christ also suffered for us, leaving 
 us an example, that ye should follow his steps. 
 
 8 1 Cor. ix. 24, 25. — Know ye not — that they which 
 run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize ? — So 
 run, that ye may obtain. And every one that striveth 
 for the mastery is temperate in all things. 
 
 9 Matt. xxi. 29. — He answered and said, I will not; 
 but afterwards repented and went. 
 
 *° 1 Pet. iii. 21. — Baptism doth also now save us, by 
 the resurrection of Jesus Christ, (not the washing away 
 the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good con- 
 science tov.ards God.)
 
 122 NOTES. 
 
 " Luke, xviii. 9 —And he spake this parable to cer- 
 tain which trusted in themselves that they were righte- 
 ous, and despised others. 
 
 '2 Luke, xviii. 24. — And when Jesus saw that he was 
 very sorrowful, he said. How hardly shall they that 
 have riches enter into the kingdom of God ! 
 
 '^ Rev. iii. 18. — I counsel thee — to anoint thine eyes 
 with eye- salve that thou mayest see. 
 
 ^* John, ix. 40, 41. — Are we blind also ? Jesus said 
 unto them , If ye were blind ye should have no sin : but 
 now ye saj/, We see ; therefore your sin remaineth. 
 
 '^ Heb. i. 14. — Are they not aU ministering spirits, 
 sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of 
 salvation ? 
 
 '^ Heb. xii. 1. — Let us lay aside every weight. — 
 
 '' Heb. xii. 1. — And the sin which doth so easilt/ 
 beset us. 
 
 '^ James, iii. 16. — For where envying and strife is, 
 there is confusion and every evil work. 
 
 '3 1 Cor. I. 12.— Let him that thinketh he standeth, 
 take heed lest he faU. 
 
 2" Eph. vi. 12. — For we wrestle not against flesh and 
 blood, but against principalities, against powers, against 
 the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual 
 wickedness (wicked spirits) in high places. 
 
 =*' Matt, xxvii. 4, 5. — And they said, What is that to 
 us 1 see thou to that. And he cast down the pieces of 
 silver in the temple and departed and went and hanged 
 himself. 
 
 ^^ Prov. iv. 25, 26. — Let thine eyes look right on,
 
 NOTES. 123 
 
 and let thine eyelids look straight before thee. Ponder 
 the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. 
 
 ^ Ps. xci. 11, 12. — For he shall give his angels 
 charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways : they 
 shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy 
 foot against a stone. 
 
 ^^ Prov. iv. 18. — The path of the just is as the 
 shining light, shining more and more unto the perfect 
 day. 
 
 •■« Luke, xxu. 31, 33, 34, and 54 to 60. 
 
 >» Luke, xxii. 61, 52. 
 
 27 Gal. ii. 11-14. 
 
 ^ Phil. iii. 13, 14. — This one thing I do, forgetting 
 those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto 
 those things which are before, I press towards the 
 mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ 
 Jesus. 
 
 ^ 2 Cor. xii. 7. — And lest I should be exalted above 
 measure through the abundance of the revelation, there 
 was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of 
 Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above 
 measure. 
 
 ^ 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. 
 
 3' Rev. XV. 2, 3, 4. 
 
 ^'^ Rev. xxi. 3, 4.
 
 THE BUILDERS. 
 
 Theee was once a very beautiful coun- 
 try, which was quite different from any 
 that can now be found on earth. It was 
 free from all those things which now spoil 
 the beauty of the most lovely lands. The 
 air was so mild and soft, that you might lie 
 down and sleep in the open air all night, 
 and no harm would come of it. Four beau- 
 tiful rivers, as clear as crystal, ran through 
 it. You could look into the waters and see 
 the fish of all kinds sporting in the clear 
 depths, chasing one another among the long 
 lily stalks, whose flowers, like cups of silver 
 with drops of gold in the middle, floated on 
 the top among their clusters of bright green 
 leaves ; and if you looked in, and the play- 
 ful fish caught sight of you looking at them, 
 they did not plunge down and get out of 
 sight, as they do when we see them — they
 
 THE BUILDEES. 
 
 125 
 
 would go on with their play. There were 
 lions, and tigers, and all kinds of living 
 creatures roaming about ; but the lions did 
 not live on flesh, nor know the taste of 
 blood; they ate grass like oxen, and were 
 as gentle and harmless as lambs. You 
 might often see a little friskmg kid phaymg 
 widi a large, noble-looking lion, just as a 
 merry kitten plays with its mother; and 
 though the great lion was strong enough to 
 lay the little kid dead at his feet with a turn 
 of his paw, yet he would only lay his paw 
 gently on the little frolicker, and seem quite 
 delighted with his happy play-fellow. You 
 might see a calf feeding there by the side of 
 a great rough bear. You might see a fine 
 eagle floatmg in the air, like a speck, and 
 the other bhds were not the least afraid of 
 him : they went on with their songs among 
 the branches, for the cagie would do them 
 no harm there. The hen, who was walking 
 abroad with her pretty brood of chickens, 
 would look up, but she did not somid any 
 alarm to her little ones, when she saw the
 
 120 THE BUILDEBS. 
 
 hawk balancing himself under the clouu, 
 seeming as if he was fixed in the air. The 
 hare and the rabbit, who were nibbling the 
 grass, did not lay back their long ears to 
 catch the sound of the barking dogs : they 
 were never hunted in that beautiful coun- 
 try. It was never bitterly cold nor fiercely 
 hot there. The ground was never frozen 
 up as hard as a stone, nor burnt into pow- 
 der by the blazing sun. No violent storms 
 nor tempests were ever kno\^Ti there; no 
 floods of water carryuig away houses and 
 cottages, sheep and cattle. Indeed they 
 did not want any houses there, as we do, 
 for the thickets were so close and formed 
 such beautiful arbours, lined with all kmds 
 of creepmg flowers, and with such beautiful 
 soft dry moss to lie on, that no houses were 
 built there ; and there were no cold, damp, 
 soaking fogs, to chill them while asleep, 
 though every flower and blade of grass was 
 hung with dew-di'ops of a mormng, which 
 sparkled in the sunlight, far brighter than 
 the diamonds in a kmg's crown.
 
 THE BUILDEES. 127 
 
 But all this was changed: a violent storm 
 one day rose quite suddenly in the sky ; the 
 air turned chiU and cold ; the wind began to 
 pipe mournfully through the trees; the sky 
 became covered with scudding clouds, which 
 spread themselves over the whole heavens 
 till all was as dark as night ; the wind sud- 
 denly dropped: the blue lightning darted 
 in a swift stream from the inky sky and 
 plunged into the ground ; the thimder 
 crashed from the pile of clouds, and made 
 the very earth tremble ; the rivers swelled 
 and flooded the fields upon the banks ; and 
 when the storm rolled off, everything was 
 changed — the cHmate seemed altogether 
 different — that storm had altered the whole 
 face of the country ; and as it seemed likely 
 that such storms might often happen again, 
 the people were obliged to look out for some 
 place where they might build a house and 
 be safe against the floods and tempests. ^ 
 
 The King of the country was very desir- 
 ous to assist the people. He looked out a 
 range of high ground, which he knew would
 
 128 THE BUILDEES, 
 
 be generally above the reach of the floods, 
 and on this range he laid down a great foun- 
 dation of the best stone, the strength of 
 which he himself knew." This stone which 
 the Kincr laid down was of a kind that 
 would not wear, even with the continual 
 washing of the water dui'ing the longest 
 floods. He had tried it and found it per- 
 fect ; it would not crumble off after it had 
 been wetted either in the hottest summer 
 or the coldest whiter ; neither sun nor frost 
 did it any harm — they only seemed to make 
 it harder. It would bear any weight that 
 was laid upon it. The King had proved 
 this also by himself puttmg the greatest 
 possible "Weight on it. 
 
 The King, in fixmg on the range of high 
 ground where he should lay down this 
 stone, chose it so that it might be as near 
 as possible for all the people to build on ; 
 those who were furthest off were not far — 
 indeed it was near at hand to all that 
 wished to build. ^ 
 
 When he had looked out the high ground
 
 THE BUILDErxS. 129 
 
 for this foundation, and laid down the stone, 
 he told the people, that as their country 
 was now liable to such sudden storms and 
 risings of the rivers, they had better at once 
 change their quarters and begin to build 
 their houses on the foundation which he had 
 laid for then' use. He told them that if 
 they wished to have a thoroughly good and 
 safe house, they must not build it of bricks, 
 made of the clay of the low ground, nor 
 even of the stone or timber that they could 
 get there, but that if they would apply to 
 liim he would give them an order for stone 
 out of his own quarry, of the same kind as 
 that which he had laid down for the foun- 
 dation,* and also that they should be sup- 
 plied with tempered mortar, which would be 
 sure to hold the stones tight together, and 
 not give way either through wet or heat or 
 cold. He said, too, that if they went into 
 his quarry, his Chief Builder, who had built 
 his own palace and many other most beau- 
 tiful buildings for him, would give them 
 directions, would teach them to shape and
 
 130 THE BUILDEES. 
 
 square the stones, and furnish them with pro- 
 per plans for the building of their houses ;^ 
 which, though in some small points they 
 might be different, were all to be built after 
 the same plan inside, and in all important 
 points, such as the foundations, the main 
 walls, the number of the rooms, doors, win- 
 dows, and roof, were to be exactly alike. 
 
 He also told them that in furnishmg 
 their houses they must attend to his direc- 
 tions, and make the furniture as strong and 
 simple as they could. He told them that 
 there was one kind of wood which was 
 proof against worms, and would not warp 
 either with heat or wet. This also he was 
 ready to furnish them with out of his own 
 stores. Such were the directions which the 
 Kmg of the country kindly gave the poor 
 people ; and he promised that if they care- 
 fully looked at themselves, his Chief Builder 
 would answer any inquiry they might 
 make ; and he advised them in everything 
 to consult him, that they might be sure 
 they were building rightly.
 
 THE BUILDEES. 131 
 
 These kind dii'ections of the King were 
 very differently received. Though the storm 
 had made such a change as all could both 
 see and feel, and every one must have known 
 that such another might arise again, and 
 should have believed for certain, when the 
 King warned them to provide against it, 
 that it ivould come some day or other, yet 
 by far the greater part of them seemed to 
 forget the danger, and lived as if no evil 
 had happened and none would ever happen 
 again. They took no care at all to build 
 on the King's foundation, nor evQU to move 
 up to the high gromid ; they lived in the 
 valleys, and many did not attempt to huild 
 even there ; a few, however, did go up to 
 the high ground, and a small number of 
 houses were built upon it and finished when 
 a most dreadful storm arose. It lasted 
 many days and nights ; it seemed as if the 
 skies were melting into water ; it came 
 down in spouts ; the rivers soon swelled, 
 and rose above their banks ; and the care- 
 less and heedless people in the valleys lost
 
 132 THE BUILDEES. 
 
 not only their goods but tlieir lives, for all 
 were swept away ; while those who had 
 built on the Kmg's foundation were safe and 
 sound, and their houses were not even 
 moved or shaken. 
 
 Other people in course of time filled up 
 the places of those who had thus been swxpt 
 away. Some of the childi'en of those who 
 had built their houses on the high ground 
 and upon the King's foundation were fooHsh 
 enough to leave their high and safe place 
 and go down into the valleys. Indeed, 
 though so safe and sure and strong a foun- 
 dation had been prepared by the King hun- 
 self ; though the best, indeed the only stone 
 fit for building on this foundation had been 
 provided abmidantly by him, and he had so 
 kindly promised the help and instruction 
 of his Cliief Builder m the whole work ; 
 yet very few indeed took any pains to build 
 where he wished and allowed them, but 
 built wherever the fancy took them, and in 
 the way they pleased. 
 
 Some looked out for ranges of stone.
 
 THE BUILDEES. 133 
 
 whicli tlitj' said was quite as good as the 
 King's foundation, because it looked as well ; 
 indeed to all appearance it was better, for 
 the stone of which the Kind's foundation 
 was made was not a fine-lookuig stone at all, 
 but a plain, grey-rock, without any glitter, 
 or poHsh, or fine colours, and many of the 
 men who went up the hill to look at it utterly 
 despised it ; it seemed, as they thought, so 
 poor and mean.^ So they looked out for 
 some stone which appeared much better: 
 it was indeed rather soft, but then it could 
 easily be cut, and took a fine polish very 
 soon, like alabaster, and was easily got mto 
 shape, with scarcely any trouble at all ; so 
 that the houses were very soon run up of 
 this stone, and looked very well, and stood 
 a little rain and wind, though it was observed 
 that even the least rain made the outside 
 of the stones damp ; and if it lasted a good 
 while, the stone began to peel and drop off, 
 and the fine polish went, and it seemed 
 as if the stones would soon melt away. 
 But as soon as the rain was over and the
 
 134 THE BUILDEES. 
 
 sun came out^ the stones dried. The men 
 set to work and smoothed and polished the 
 outside again ; and though they might and 
 ought to have thought that if only the outside 
 of the stones dropped off with a little rain, 
 they were sure to drop entirely to pieces 
 in a storm ; yet the men seemed either not 
 to thmk this at all, or to forget that they 
 had ever thought so, and went on till some 
 great and sudden tempest arose, and the 
 floods swelled and the violent winds blew, 
 and the whole country became one sheet 
 of water, and then, when it was too late, 
 they saw their folly. The stones on which 
 they had built were soon loosened by the 
 rushing waters, and crumbled away; the 
 imtempered mortar^ with which they had 
 securely fastened the stones together (as 
 they supposed), was soon washed out piece 
 by piece ; the stones of the house became 
 so soft with the rain driving agamst them, 
 that the great hail-stones sunk into tl^m 
 as bullets into miry clay ; the furious, 
 stormy wind rent the house, beat in the
 
 THE BUILDEKS. 135 
 
 roof, drove in the windows, and it soon fell ; 
 and while part of it sunk into the depths, 
 the rest was carried awaj by the violent 
 stream, and was never seen again.^ This 
 happened, sooner or later, to every house 
 that was not built on the King's foundation. 
 Though some of the people seemed so 
 blmdly sure of their safetj , chat even when 
 the house was melting away and sinking 
 before the flood, they would scarcely believe 
 it was falling, and you would have thought 
 there was no danger, if you had looked 
 only at them. 
 
 It was almost always the case in that 
 country, that some lesser storms arose 
 before the great tempests, as if to give 
 warning of the greater storms. And some 
 of the people took warning from what they 
 saw. When they fomid that the stone, of 
 which they had begim to build their house 
 (and some had altogether built it,) dropped 
 off in the showers of rain, and when they 
 felt it tremble in the gaists of wind, they 
 said withm themselves, " If this stone will
 
 THE BTJILDEES. 
 
 not stand such a little storm as this, it 
 cannot stand one of those furious tempests 
 which will soon come on, and we know not 
 how soon.'^ So they were led to consider 
 of this ; and directly the rain abated, and 
 the wind dropped, and the sun shone out 
 again, they at once left the house as it was, 
 and went up to the high ground, told the 
 King's Chief Builder how wrong they had 
 been, and how they had been led to see their 
 mistake before it was too late, and asked 
 him to teach them how to build on the 
 King's foundation. And the Chief Builder 
 never reproached or blamed them, when they 
 blamed themselves. Indeed, the more they 
 blamed themselves, the more kind he was, 
 and seemed more pleased to help them.^ 
 
 It was curious to see how few, even of the 
 people who built on the King's foundation, 
 were willino; to follow altogether the di- 
 rections of the Chief Builder in simplicity 
 and obedience. They took the place which 
 he pointed out as thehs (for every one had 
 his own place marked out by the King him-
 
 THE BUILDERS. 137 
 
 self), but many were inclined to think tlieir 
 neighbours better off than themselves. 
 Some, whose place was appointed on the 
 lower part of the high ground, were disposed 
 to envy those whose places the King had 
 appointed higher up ; and some, to whom 
 a smaller space had been given, almost 
 wished they had been one of those who 
 had a larger and broader one. This was 
 not right, for whenever storms came, the 
 houses on the highest point were always 
 tried the most, and felt the winds and rains 
 the first; while those on the lower ranges 
 of the rock were less violently shaken and 
 less often tried. The higher gromid had 
 its own dangers as well as its greater height; 
 and the houses built on it had to stand out 
 many a fierce gust rushing through the air, 
 of which the people on the lower ranges 
 knew nothing. 
 
 Some, who were building their houses on 
 the King's foundation, were not satisfied 
 with the plain, strong, simple kind of house 
 which the Chief Builder recommended, but
 
 138 THE BTJILDEES. 
 
 would put on ornaments of tlieir own, 
 besides those which the King's plans 
 allowed, and, indeed, required. For each 
 house was to consist of three stories. It was 
 very plain in its outward appearance, and 
 .all its chief beauties were within. ^^ The 
 roof was supported by seven pillars; of 
 these three were larger than the others, and 
 one of these again was more richly orna- 
 mented than all the rest. The whole of 
 these stood on one and the same solid stone, 
 and seemed, as it were, to spring out of it. 
 The houses, which were built under the 
 direction of the King's Architect, were of 
 different sizes, but the general plan on which 
 they were built was the same in all. Many, 
 however, were not satisfied with the simple 
 and beautiful plan of the Chief Builder; they 
 w^ould put on ornaments on the outside ; " 
 and as they could not work these out of the 
 stone of the King's quarry (for it would not 
 cut into such ornaments as they wished), 
 they cut them out of the stone they brought 
 up out of the lower grounds, and stuck them
 
 THE BUILDEES. 139 
 
 on outside the house, though somehow they 
 did not at all agree with the appearance of 
 the house; and any one that was m the habit 
 of seeing the houses built on the King's 
 foundation, would at once see, that all these 
 tilings were quite out of place, and did not 
 at all agree with the other parts and 
 character of the building. 
 
 There were some who tried to build a 
 house in the lower ground, partly of the 
 soft stone they got there so easily, and 
 partly of the stone of the King's quarry. 
 These people seemed to feel that the soft 
 stone was not quite strong enough, but 
 thought that if they used some of the other 
 here and there in the building, it would 
 make all the rest strong and safe ; but it 
 was very curious and wonderful to observe, 
 how the two kinds of stone could never be 
 got by any means to hold together ; ^- the 
 untempered mortar they used, though it 
 stuck very tight to the soft stone till the 
 rains and floods came, could not be got to 
 stick at aU to the stone of the quarry ; so
 
 140 THE BUILDERS. 
 
 .^at when the storm did come, those houses 
 fell quite as fast as the others which were 
 made only of the soft stone of the valleys. 
 
 The furniture of those houses which were 
 built on the King's foundation was as much 
 under the direction of the Chief Builder as 
 the houses themselves. It was the King's 
 wish, that the furniture should answer to 
 the houses, and both be such as to be in no 
 danger of either decay or destruction. Some 
 of the men, who seemed more simple-minded 
 than the rest, followed the dhections of the 
 Chief Builder in almost everything. They 
 put nothing unnecessary into their houses, 
 and all the furniture was formed out of wood 
 from the King's stores, which no worm was 
 ever known to eat through, and no change 
 of season in the least alter or change. ^^ 
 But it was strange to see how many things 
 some of the others put into their houses ; 
 which, at first sight, would have made you 
 suppose you were in a house built in the 
 low grounds, and not on the King's range. 
 Whenever the storm came, all this furniture
 
 " The whole range will shine out in perfect beauty." 
 
 Page 141.
 
 THE BUILDEES. 141 
 
 cracked and split, and lost all its polish; 
 and was often carried away (it was so liglit,) 
 for all the pains they had taken to make it 
 last, while not a single piece of that which 
 was made of the King's materials was the 
 least altered, but stood out the storm as 
 well as the house itself. 
 
 The buildings on the King's range are 
 increasmg every day, though only a small 
 portion is as yet covered. Every part of it, 
 however, will in time be filled ; and it is 
 said, that when the last house is finished, 
 a more tremendous storm than has ever yet 
 happened will burst on the whole country; ^* 
 and that after the tempest has proved the 
 foundation of every house on the Kmo-'s 
 range, and swept away every particle of 
 workmanship about them which was not 
 the work of the Chief Builder; that after 
 that the whole range will shine out in 
 perfect beauty, and its happy people walk 
 in the light of the King's own presence, 
 who will come and live among them, and 
 have liis palace among them for ever.
 
 142 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ' Gen. iii. 
 
 - Isa. xxviii. 16. — Behold, I lay in Zion for a 
 foundation a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner- 
 stone, a sure foundation. 
 
 3 Psalm Ixxxv. 9. — Surely his salvation is nigh them 
 that fear him. 
 
 ■* Isa. liv. 17. — Their righteousness is of me, saith 
 the Lord. 
 
 * John, xvi. 13. — When he, the Spirit of truth, is 
 come, he shall guide you into all truth. 
 
 ® Isa. liii. 2, 3. — He is despised and rejected of 
 men. 
 
 Rom. Lx. 33. — A stumbling-stone and a rock of 
 offence, and whosoever believeth on him shall not be 
 ashamed. 
 
 ^ Ezek. xiii. 10. — And one built up a wall, and 
 others daubed it with untempered mortar : say unto 
 them which daub it with untempered mortar, that it 
 shall fall : there shall be an overflowing shower ; and 
 ye, O great hailstones, shall fall. Isaiah, xxviii, 17. — 
 The hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the 
 water shall overflow the hiding-place. 
 
 s Matt. vii. 24 to 27. 
 
 9 James, i. 5. — If any of you lack wisdom, let him 
 ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and 
 upbraideth not ; and it shall be given him.
 
 NOTES. 14:3 
 
 »" Psalm xlv. 13.— The king's daughter is all glorious 
 within. 
 
 »' 1 Cor. iii. 12.— Now if any man build on this 
 foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, 
 stubble : every man's work shall be made manifest ; 
 for the day shall declare it. 
 
 '2 Gal. V. 4. — Christ is become of none effect to you : 
 whosoever of you are justified bj the law, — ye are fallen 
 from grace. 
 
 13 2 Pet. i. 5, 6, 7. — And beside this, giving all 
 diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue 
 knowledge ; and to knowledge temperance ; and to 
 temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and 
 to godliness brotherly-kindness; and to brotherly-kind- 
 ness charity. 
 
 >* Heb. xii. 26, 27. — Yet once more I shake not the 
 earth only, but also heaven. And this word, Yet once 
 more, signifieth the removing of those things that are 
 shaken, as of things that are made, that those things 
 which cannot be shaken may remain.
 
 THE GLASS. 
 
 One day a little girl went with her mother 
 to a large place, where a great many 
 people were met together. There were 
 rich and poor, old and young, all met within 
 that large building. Some of the people 
 looked serious, yet not sad, for they seemed 
 as if their thoughts were set on solemn 
 things, yet such things as made them 
 joyful to think of. A great many of the 
 poor people were among this number. Any 
 one could see that they had done all they 
 could to make themselves look neat and 
 decent ; their clothes were in many cases 
 much worn and very thin, but it seemed 
 as if these poor people knew they were in 
 a place where the outside appearance was 
 not the chief thing with the owner of the 
 house ; and their faces looked serious yet
 
 THE GLASS. 145 
 
 clieerfal, and solemn yet not sad. Many 
 of the other people, whose clothing showed 
 them to be better off, had the same look as 
 many of these poor folk. There were a 
 great many, however, within this large 
 buildmg, who looked very different : their 
 eyes were wandering about them; some- 
 times they looked at their own dress and 
 sometimes at the other people's; and some- 
 times you might tell by the look of their 
 eyes, that, though they were sitting there, 
 they were not there themselves, because 
 then: mind was gone away after other things, 
 and not that for which they came there. ^ 
 
 After a little while a man went up into a 
 kmd of tower of wood, which stood m the 
 midst of the building. He had a little 
 glass in his hand. He told the people that 
 this little glass would tell them the truth, 
 and not flatter them, as their own glasses 
 at home did; but show them their faces 
 according to what they were, not what 
 they seemed. He then opened the glass 
 and tm-ned it slowly about, so that every
 
 146 THE GLASS. 
 
 one in the pkce miglit look at himself. 
 It was very wonderful to see the difference 
 in the looks of the people as the glass was 
 turned upon them. Here was a lady beau- 
 tifully dressed^ who, before the glass changed 
 her look, had looked very well and pretty ; 
 but in the glass she looked so proud and 
 conceited and vain, so pleased with her own 
 fine appearance and good looks and gay 
 dress, that you would not have known her 
 for the same person ; and it was plain, from 
 her surprise when she saw herself in the 
 glass, that she did not know herself, and 
 would not believe that she saw her own real 
 face, but some other person's." In another 
 part of this great building the glass was 
 turned full upon a man who looked like a 
 merchant ; and when he looked at himself 
 he saw a person that seemed full of cares 
 and business, thinking about his letters and 
 accounts, and whose whole thought it was 
 how to get more money together, and heap 
 up more riches to those large stores wliich 
 he had already got. When he saw liis face
 
 THE GLASS. 147 
 
 SO altered in the glass he was quite angry, 
 and said within himself, " This cannot be 
 like ine. I am sure / am not such a one 
 as that glass would make me out."^ Then 
 the man tmTied the glass towards another 
 part of the building, where sat a man whose 
 countenance showed he was quite satisfied 
 with himself : he looked about him as much 
 as to say, " Well ; whatever that glass may 
 make out others here to be, I am sure it 
 can show nothing evil of me."^ Wliile he 
 was saying this by his looks, the glass was 
 turned full upon him, and he looked at it 
 as if to see and admire his own face : but 
 he saw a face m which self-will, and pride, 
 and angry tempers, and contempt of others, 
 were so strongly and plainly marked, that 
 he could scarcely believe his eyes, and would 
 not think that that face could be his own. 
 After this the man turned the glass upon a 
 lady who sat with a good many cliildren 
 about her. She seemed kind and good- 
 natured, and was looking from time to time 
 at her cliildren. When the glass was turnsd
 
 448 THE GLASS. 
 
 upon her, it made her appear anxious and 
 full of care. She looked as if she had 
 brouoht all her cares in her heart from 
 home with her, and her face looked so full 
 of these cares, that it seemed as if she could 
 not think or hear about anything else.^ 
 When she saw her face thus altered, she felt 
 sorrowful and not angry, and turned away 
 from looking at herself in the glass. Then 
 the man turned the glass on one of those 
 whom the little girl, on coming into the 
 place, had noticed, as looking cheerful yet 
 solemn, and serious yet not sad. When the 
 glass was turned on one of these persons, 
 Ms face was less altered than the faces of 
 the others had been, though it was altered 
 a good deal. His face looked quick and 
 hasty, but mstead of turning away from the 
 glass, this man kept looking steadfastly in 
 it,^ as if trying to see fully, and remember 
 what the look of his face was; and w^hen 
 the glass was turned away to some other 
 part, he looked more serious and humble 
 than he had done before, and appeared quite
 
 THE GLASS. 149 
 
 taken up with the thought of what his real 
 face was. And, indeed, all those people 
 whose quiet, serious, solemn looks the httle 
 girl had noticed when she first came mto the 
 place, when the glass was turned on them, 
 though they did not quite like to see their 
 faces so different from what they vmhed 
 them to be, still were not angry, as the 
 others were, and did not thmk the glass 
 mitrue, but wished to remember how they 
 had looked, that they might alter and 
 become like what they wished to beJ 
 
 After the man had gone romid the whole 
 assembly with his glass, he .said to the peo- 
 ple, that he would now tm^n the glass and 
 show them all the face of One to whom 
 they must try to get like ; which they could 
 only do, he said, by getting as milike them- 
 selves as possible. He then turned the glass, 
 and there appeared in it the face of One, 
 whom (one would have thought) none could 
 see without loving and wishing to be like 
 him. There was such heavenly meekness, 
 and gentleness, and purity, and love, in the 
 
 M
 
 150 THE GLASS. 
 
 countenance which the glass showed, with- 
 out the smallest shade of anger, or pride, or 
 unkindness ; and all tliis with such a look 
 of majesty and dignity, that the little girl, 
 when she saw that face, could not help 
 looking and looking at it again and again, 
 with feelings of love and reverence, ear- 
 nestly wishing she could be such a one as 
 that person whose face the glass showed 
 her. After the ma^i had turned the glass 
 away from her towards another part of 
 the building, the little girl could think of 
 nothing but that heavenly face which she 
 had seen, and how very different her face had 
 looked when for a moment the glass had 
 passed by her, and showed her a glimpse of 
 her real countenance. After the man had 
 shown the people the face, which, he said, 
 they must all be like if they wished to be 
 happy, he put up the glass, and the people 
 began to leave the place. Many of them 
 began talkmg about what they had seen. 
 " I do not like going to this place," said 
 one ; " that man always makes us uncom-
 
 THE GLASS. 151 
 
 fortable. I wonder why he cannot talk to 
 us without bringing out that glass." '' Do 
 you think," said another, " that that glass 
 shows our faces as they really are ? I am 
 sure, when I look at myself in the glass I 
 have at home, I look quite different from 
 what I looked to-day when the man turned 
 the glass so full upon me, that I could not 
 help seeing myself — at least what I suppose 
 the man would say was myself" ^^I do 
 not think I shall go there agam," said 
 another, " for you may go to other places 
 w^iere you can be told what you ought to 
 be in a nice, quiet, comfortable way, with- 
 out being shown such disagreeable things 
 as those glasses always show, whenever they 
 are brought out f for you observed, I dare 
 say, that there was not one that it did not 
 alter very much. I should call it shame- 
 fully. And, for my part, I neither can, 
 nor will believe, that I am such a person as 
 that glass would make me out; do you 
 think I am?" said the man to a friend 
 that was walking with him. "Oh, no,"
 
 152 THE GLASS. 
 
 said his friend, " quite a different person 
 from what I saw in the glass when it turned 
 on you ; for we sat so close together that I 
 could see what you looked as well as myself, 
 and I never thought you the selfish, pas- 
 sionate person that you looked in the glass." 
 " And what did you think of the face he 
 showed us at last when he turned the 
 glass?" "Oh, it would never do to be 
 like that ; there would be no getting on in 
 the world if we were to be such persons as 
 that one looked. What ! to see one's self 
 wronged and be so humble as not to take 
 one's own part — to be so gentle as never to 
 be angry, but let people say what they 
 please about you and put up with it all ; it 
 is quite contrary to all common sense, and 
 quite against our very nature. And then 
 to be so full of love as to love one's ene- 
 mies : why it is impossible I no one can do 
 it." " So I think," said another ; " I think 
 it quite right that we should keep away 
 from what every one thinks sinful; but 
 people may be too strict, so I should like
 
 THE GLASS. 153 
 
 to keep a middle way ; I would not be over 
 righteous, nor yet be wicked. "^ — " That's 
 just what I feel/' said the other; " I think 
 it is quite right to pay proper attention to 
 these things: but while we live in the 
 world, I see no harm in doing a little as 
 the world does ; and, for my part, I am 
 quite contented to take my chance with 
 the rest." " I think that is a very wise 
 determination," said his friend. 
 
 When little Truth (for that was the little 
 girl's name) returned home, she could think 
 of nothing but what she had seen that day. 
 The remembrance of that gentle, humble, 
 heavenly face she had seen in the glass, fol- 
 lowed her wherever she went, and she could 
 do nothing but tliink how blessed a thing 
 it must be to become like to that heavenly 
 person. She wanted to know more of her- 
 self than the small glimpses she had when 
 the glass was for a minute turned upon 
 her : she longed for the time to come round 
 when she could go again to the same place, 
 and when she had been again she was only
 
 154 THE GLASS. 
 
 more anxious still, and every fresh siglit 
 seemed to make her long for another and 
 another. 
 
 The man who had the glass, and who 
 narrowly watched the different people on 
 whom he tui'ned it, observed the little girl's 
 anxious, attentive, and earnest face ; and 
 one day, to her great surprise, but no small 
 pleasure, she saw him coming up to her 
 mother's house. He came in where little 
 Truth was sittins^ at work, thinkino^ of what 
 she had seen; and after speaking to her 
 mother, he turned to the little girl and said 
 kindly, " My little friend, I should judge 
 by yom' looks when I have been showing 
 the glass, that you are not one of those who 
 are angry with me for showing it." " Oh, 
 no, sir," said the little girl, with tears in 
 her eyes, — " how can I be angry, sir ? I am 
 sure, that though I have only had a glimpse 
 of myself in the glass, it has shown nothing 
 but what is true, for I have watched myself 
 since that, and often think, that if I had 
 one of those glasses and could look at my-
 
 THE GLASS. 155 
 
 self sometimes, I should look here at home 
 just the same little girl I looked when you 
 showed me myself the other day." " And 
 what did you think of the face I showed 
 the people when I tmiied the glass ? " " Oh, 
 sir, if I could only be like that — I have 
 thought of nothing else since I saw that 
 face — I should be so happy if I could be as 
 gentle, and humble, and loving, as that 
 heavenly face looked." " Would you like 
 to have one of those glasses?" said the 
 kind man ; " if you would take care of it, 
 and promise to use it, I would give you 
 one." So he took out of his pocket a little 
 case, in which was one of the same kind of 
 glasses he had himself used, and gave it to 
 little Truth. "This," said he, "is now 
 your own; but it will do you no good 
 except it is used. If you do not look into it, 
 but lay it by and rest contented with merely 
 having it, you might as w^ell be without it ; 
 indeed, you had better be without it. Re- 
 member then, my little friend, that this 
 glass will help you, first to know yourself.
 
 156 THE GLASS. 
 
 and next to krow that Blessed Person whom 
 I showed you ; it will also help you to find 
 out the real worth of different things, and 
 the true character of different persons : but 
 it will not do these last things for you, 
 unless you make use of it first for the other 
 purposes I spoke of. If you are sincerely 
 and truly desirous of knowmg yourself, that 
 you may become more and more like that 
 person, then your glass will help you, and 
 this little book will give you directions how 
 to use it aright. So now, good-bye." 
 
 When the good man was gone, little 
 Truth felt as if she was now very rich.^*^ She 
 was anxious to use her glass, and longed 
 for an opportunity of doing so. She went 
 to her school in the afternoon, carrying her 
 glass in her pocket, that she might have it 
 at hand in case of wishing to use it. She 
 had learnt her lessons very well, and took 
 a great many places, and got up nearly to 
 the top of her form. Her teacher spoke 
 kindly to her, to encourage her, and said she 
 had done very well. She went home quite
 
 THE GLASS. 157 
 
 pleased and satisfied with herself, and 
 could not help thinking, as she went along, 
 how much better she had said her lessons 
 than those of her school-fellows^ whose 
 places she had taken. When she got home, 
 she thought she would just look at her 
 glass, but it was rather from cimosity than 
 from any particular wish to know anything 
 about herself. When she took it out of its 
 case there was a mist over it, so that she 
 could see nothing. She tried to wipe it 
 away, but still it continued dim. She 
 thought what could possibly make it so; 
 and at last looked to the directions which 
 the good man had given her, to see if she 
 could learn how to make the glass clear. 
 She opened the paper, and among other 
 things found this dhection. ' If the glass 
 should be at any time dim, it is because 
 the person wishing to use it does not really 
 wish to use it rightly. '^ These words set 
 little Truth on thinking. Had she really 
 cared about looking into the glass ? or did 
 she sincerely desire to know about her own
 
 158 TIIE GLASS. 
 
 state of mind? or was she not satisfied 
 about herself? She began to fear that 
 there must be something ^yrong in herself; 
 she began really to wish to know what it 
 was ; and as she felt this, she looked towards 
 the glass and saw the dimness going oli 
 by little and little, till the glass was clear 
 and bright. She took it up with a trem- 
 bling hand, and looked into it, and there 
 saw herself looking satisfied and pleased 
 with herself, and with a look as if she ra- 
 ther despised others.^^ She then turned 
 the glass, and there saw the face she had 
 begun to love. It was the face of the same 
 Person she had seen before, but when he 
 was young — for it looked like the face of a 
 lad about twelve years old — there was such 
 a look of humility and modesty, without 
 the least appearance of pride or vain-glory, 
 that she saw directly that she had been quite 
 wrong in thinking more of herself because 
 she had taken her schoolfellows' places, and 
 also in thinking meanly of them for losuig 
 their places, and that while she had liked
 
 THE GLASS. 159 
 
 being praised by her teacher, she had not 
 been thinking of the praise that cometh 
 of God only. Little Truth was humbled 
 when she saw all this. She wxpt to think 
 she had felt so proudly, and despised her 
 schoolfellows in her heart. She asked for 
 pardon, and prayed that she might not for- 
 get the lesson she had learnt ; and when 
 next day she went to school, she took her 
 place modestly ; and though she said her 
 lessons well, and her teacher again spoke a 
 few kind words to her, she thought of him 
 whose servant had given her the glass, and 
 hoped in her heart he might be pleased 
 with her, and not see the same wrong 
 thoughts he had shown her yesterday m 
 the glass. 12 
 
 There was among her schoolfellows a little 
 quiet girl, who never got up very high in 
 her class, though she always paid great at- 
 tention to her lessons. She was not nearly 
 so quick of understanding as many of the 
 childi'en ; and when the children were asked 
 questions before a great number of people.
 
 160 THE GLASS. 
 
 this little girl was never*taken much notice 
 of by the great people — they thought her 
 rather dull and backward. Little Truth 
 wished to know what kind of little girl her 
 glass would show this child to be. So one 
 day, without being seen by any one, she 
 held her glass so as to show the little 
 girl's face, and she was surprised to see what 
 a brightness there was about it, what a look 
 of humility and love. Little Truth thought 
 she could see a good deal of likeness in the 
 little sirl's face to that one which she saw 
 when she turned her glass. She had not 
 spoken much to this little girl before, but 
 what she had seen made her wish to talk 
 with her now ; so when she was going out 
 of school she spoke kindly to this little girl, 
 who answered her meekly and kindly, and 
 she found, though the little girl was not 
 one who said much, that her father had got 
 one of the glasses at home and let her look 
 into it; and that she was trying all she 
 could to get as much like that heavenly 
 person whom little Truth was beginning
 
 THE GLASS. 161 
 
 to love.*^ She became this little girl's 
 friend: and when she looked about the 
 school, and saw many of her schoolfellows 
 very quick and clever at their lessons, she 
 used to say within herself — '^ Ah, they have 
 learnt their lessons without much trouble, 
 and not because they know it to be right to 
 try and do then* best ; but my little friend 
 has tried hard to learn hers, because she 
 wishes to please him who does not look at 
 our faces but our hearts." 
 
 One day her friend's father called on 
 Truth with his little girl, and said, " My 
 dear little friend, I am going to see a per- 
 son whom you, too, would like to see ; will 
 you go with me ? " "I should like to go 
 very much," said little Truth, " if my father 
 and mother will let me." So she went and 
 asked them, and they gave her leave. Then 
 her little friend's father took his little girl 
 and Truth, and walked with them towards 
 the end of the city. He led them through 
 several streets, and then turned down a 
 passage, leading into a narrow court. He
 
 162 THE GLASS. 
 
 stopped at one of the doors and lifted the 
 latch — "Take care," said he, "my little 
 ones, how you go up this stair, it is very 
 dark up the staircase, and the stairs are 
 very old. There is a rope hanging from the 
 top, which will help you up if you will lay 
 hold of it." So he made them go up first, 
 that he might catch them if they slipped. 
 When they came to the top of the stairs 
 he tapped gently at a door, and a weak voice 
 from within said, " Please to come in ; " so 
 he opened the door and led the little girls 
 into the room. It was a room at the top 
 of the house. The roof slanted down on 
 each side, and it was only in the middle 
 that a man could stand upright. There 
 was only one very small window, with very 
 few panes of glass in it; the rest was of 
 paper, neatly pasted over the frames. 
 Throui]i;h this window a faint lio;ht came 
 into the room, and enabled the little girls 
 to see, in a corner, what seemed a heap of 
 clothes, but which was a poor bed, laid on 
 the floor, on which, when they went close up
 
 THE GLASS. 163 
 
 to it, they saw a woman lying. Even the 
 little girls could see that she was very, very 
 ill. Her hand, which was laid outside the 
 clothes, was as white as marble, and looked 
 so thin that it seemed as if they might see 
 through it. Her face was very thin too. 
 Her lips did not look red as healthy peo- 
 ple's lips are, but of a bluish whiteness; 
 but her eyes were so dark, and deep, and 
 bright, that they seemed to sparkle and 
 flash with brightness. There was one old 
 broken chair, that scarcely held together, 
 and two or three cups and saucers over 
 the fire-place, though there was but a little 
 fire, made of some cinders and a little tan. 
 The little girls stood by the bed, and the 
 kind man sat down cautiously on the old 
 chair, and looking at the poor sufferer on 
 the floor, said, "I have brought my httle 
 girl, and a little friend of hers, to see you.*' 
 The poor sick woman looked at the little 
 girls, and, with a very sweet smile, and a 
 look of kindness and love, said, " It is very
 
 164 THE GLASS, 
 
 kind of you to bring them to see a poor 
 afflicted creature." " Do you not find this 
 lonely room very dull ? " said the man to 
 her. " No, indeed," she said, " I do not." 
 Little Trutli and her friend were surprised, 
 but they listened to what was said. " Do 
 you have many come to see you?" 
 " No," she said ; " except yourself and one 
 other kind friend, I see no one." The little 
 girls were still more surprised. " She must 
 be dull," they thought within themselves, 
 but they listened on. " I icas dull once, but 
 that time is past. Since I have known 
 Him (whom you also know), I have had 
 more joy in this lonely room, and on this 
 bed of pain, than I ever had in my time of 
 health. 1* I have begun to know two things, 
 — what I am and what He is. When I 
 look at what I am, instead of murmuring, 
 as I once did, at my severe pain, at my 
 poverty (for you know I am very poor), 
 I only wonder at his mercy, who alone has 
 kept my soul from going down into the pit ;
 
 De you not find tliis lonely room very dull?" 
 
 Pasfe 1C4
 
 THE GLASS. 1G5 
 
 and when I think of my having a bed to lie 
 on, I remember how He had not a place 
 where to lay his head. All I want noio is 
 to know more of him, and to lose myself — 
 to be made like him, and unlike what I 
 was. I am looking forward to that day 
 with humble hope, when I shall awake 
 up after his likeness, and then I shall be 
 satisfied,^^ though he has taught me even 
 now to be contenV^ 
 
 While the poor woman was thus speak- 
 ing, little Truth, who had brought her 
 glass with her, took it out, looked in it, 
 and almost started when she saw the wo- 
 man's face through the glass. It looked 
 bright and glowing ; it looked as if there 
 was some very glorious light streaming in 
 upon it, and it seemed almost more like 
 the face of Him she had learned to love, 
 than any other she had yet seen; and it 
 looked light, too, all around the bed : and as 
 the poor woman lifted up her eyes, the 
 little girls almost fancied that she must see 
 more than they saw.
 
 I am told that little Truth used her 
 glass so well, that she, too, grew more and 
 more like the person (whose face it showed 
 her) everj day
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 * Isa. xxix. 13. — This people draw near me with 
 their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have 
 removed their heart far from me. 
 
 ^ Jer. xvii. 9. — The heart is deceitful above all 
 things, and desperately wicked : who can know it ? 
 
 ^ Psalm xxxvi. 2. — He flattereth himself in his own 
 eyes, until his iniquity be found to be hateful. 
 
 ■* Luke, xviii. 9. — He spake this parable unto certain 
 which trusted in themselves that they were righteous, 
 and despised others. 
 
 * Mark, iv. 19. — And the cares of this world, and 
 the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things, 
 choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful. 
 
 ^ Psalm cxix. 93. — I will never forget thy precepts : 
 for with them thou hast quickened me. 
 
 ' James, i. 25. — But whoso looketh into the perfect 
 law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a 
 forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man is 
 blessed in his deed. 
 
 ^ Isa. XXX. 10, — Prophesy not unto us right things, 
 prophesy unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits. 
 
 ^ Eccles. vii. 16, 17. — Be not righteous overmuch; 
 neither make thyself over wise : why shouldest thou 
 destroy thyself? Be not overmuch wicked, neither be 
 thou foolish : why shouldest thou die before thy time ?
 
 168 NOTES. 
 
 '" Psalm cxix. 162. — I rejoice in thy word, as one 
 that findeth great spoil. 
 
 " Heb. iv. 12, 13. — For the word of God is quick 
 and powerful ; — and is a discemer of the thoughts and 
 intents of the heart;— and all things are naked and 
 opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do. 
 
 '2 2 Cor. iii. 18. — But we all, with open face beholding 
 as in a glass the glory of the Lord (Christ), are changed 
 into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the 
 Spirit of the I^ord. 
 
 '3 Psalm li. 6. — Behold, thou desirest truth in the 
 inward parts : and in the hidden part thou shalt make 
 me to know wisdom. 
 
 ''' Psalm iv. 6, 7. — There be many that say. Who 
 will show us any good ? Lord, lift thou up the light 
 of thy countenance upon us. Thou hast put gladness 
 in my heart more than in the time that their corn and 
 their wine increased. 
 
 '5 Psalm xvii. 15. — As for me, I will behold thy 
 face in righteousness : I shall be satisfied, when I awake, 
 with thy likeness.
 
 THE JOURNEY, 
 
 Theee is a happy land, very far off, in 
 whicli none of the sorrows which make 
 this world a world of sadness are known. 
 There is no pain there, neither sorrow nor 
 crying, neither is there any death. The 
 people of that land always see the Kmg in 
 his beauty; they behold his glory, and 
 enjoy his goodness. They are clothed in 
 robes of pure white linen, are crowned with 
 crowns that glitter like the noonday sun, 
 md the music of their golden harps fills 
 :he land with the sweetest sounds of glad- 
 less. 
 
 A long way off from this happy land, 
 there is another very different ; the people 
 of that country (though it is also part of 
 the same King's dominions) refuser! *-
 
 170 THE JOUllNEY. 
 
 obey his laws, and were very miserable 
 because tliey had done so. There had once 
 been a highroad between this country and 
 the King's country, and the people of the 
 King's land had continually gone to and 
 fro to visit the other people. But directly 
 these refused to obey the King's command- 
 ments, the people of the King's comitry 
 left off visiting them, and the highroad 
 (which the King had made, but had not 
 then opened, and which led straight to the 
 King's country), was, by liis orders, broken 
 up, so that there was no way by which the 
 people could get to the King's country from 
 their own. 
 
 But the King took pity on his poor mis- 
 guided people. He caused another road to 
 be made from their country to his own, by 
 which a great many, following the directions 
 of a map which he sent them, were able to 
 reach this happy land.-^ At last he sent his 
 own Son, who visited the people, and saw 
 their misery, and was very kind to them ; 
 and then, in order to make the way to his
 
 THE JOUliNEY. 171 
 
 Father's country more plain and easy, went 
 along the road, leaving, as he went, marks 
 to show by which way he went," and then 
 sent full directions, some of which he had 
 given them himself while he was among 
 them, and all of which he had seen and 
 looked over. These directions he sent them 
 by some of his servants, and told them, in 
 his name, to ask all they saw and met to 
 set out for his country and leave their own,^ 
 which he meant one day to visit with his 
 armies and destroy. 
 
 A great many 'of the people listened to 
 what his servants said, and still more ap- 
 peared to do so, and all these went to the 
 gate which led to the King's highroad. 
 
 A great many, when once they had passed 
 through the gate from which the road could 
 be seen, seemed to think that all was done ; 
 they sat down in the fields and amused 
 themselves, and wasted their time, and 
 though some few of these had received a 
 paper of directions after they had come 
 through the gate, they scarcely looked into
 
 172 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 it or read it, but seemed as if all they had 
 to do was to pass tlirough the gate, and 
 that they needed not to go forward towards 
 the Kmg's country.* 
 
 Many little children were carried through 
 the gate by the King's servants, and many 
 of these, as soon almost as they had got 
 through the gate were taken to a side door 
 where some' of the King's chariots were 
 waiting, and carried in them at once to the 
 happy comitry. 
 
 But though a great many of the people, 
 who had passed the gate loitered away 
 their time, and never once took a step 
 towards the King's way, yet all those who 
 were in earnest, and wished to reach the 
 happy land, to which their great King so 
 kindly invited them, went to the King's 
 servants for instruction as to their journey. 
 They were each furnished with a lamp, — 
 a cruse of oil to feed it, — and a map of the 
 road, drawn out by several of the King's best 
 servants. The King's servant, who gave 
 them their lamp and map, told them how to
 
 THE JOURNEY. 173 
 
 use them both, and earnestly entreated them 
 to remember his dn-ections. " This lamp," 
 said he, '' will be of no use to you unless 
 you hold it down to your feet : if you carry 
 it carelessly, or hold it above youi' head, it 
 will throw a light, but not such a light as 
 will enable you to walk safely along the 
 Kmg's road.^ Study this map as you go 
 along, especially when you come to any 
 turnings in the road and where other roads 
 run mto it and cross it. If you do this, you 
 will not miss the right way. Look carefully 
 along the road to find the marks which the 
 King's Son set up and left, when he went 
 along it. There is a stream that runs from 
 the King's country, and it runs within a 
 very short distance of the road. If you 
 wish to reach your journey's end in safety, 
 you must bathe m this stream, and drink 
 of it every day ; this will wash oflF the dust 
 which ivill clmg to your clothing even 
 along the cleanest parts of the road, and 
 will renew your strength and cheer your 
 spirits. Take good heed to these mstruc-
 
 174 THE JOUliNEY. 
 
 tions, and may we meet one day in that 
 happy land." So saying, he gave each of 
 them a lamp and a map, and to some, 
 especially the younger persons, he gave a 
 little drink out of a silver cup. As soon 
 as they had taken it, they felt their spirits 
 so raised, and their hearts so joyful, that 
 they went along the road as if they had 
 been walking on the air, and could hardly 
 keep themselves from running. 
 
 The company of people then set out. 
 There were many in the company : several 
 little children and their mothers: several 
 old men, and many more. It was quite 
 dark when they started, but their lamps 
 threw a bright light upon the path of such 
 as minded the directions of the King's ser- 
 vant. Those who took care to hold down 
 their lamp could see the road quite plainly 
 before them. Every stone upon the path 
 was clearly shown, and they were enabled 
 to walk steadily and firmly ; from time to 
 time, too, they saw the way-marks which 
 the King's Son had set up along the road. 
 
 I
 
 u. 0/^il^ 
 
 ' There were many in the compauy. 
 
 Page 174.
 
 THE JOUENEY. 1 i O 
 
 and in several places they saw footsteps 
 VN'liich tliey knew to be those of the King's 
 Son. When they saw these, they rejoiced 
 exceedingly, being sure they were in the 
 right way. 
 
 The King's road led straight through 
 the country, over hill and plain, through 
 forests and valleys, and through many nar- 
 row passes in the hills, where the rocks so 
 overhung the road as to look as if they 
 would fall upon the heads of travellers. 
 The road was narrow, and on some parts 
 the thorn-bushes, which grew thickly along 
 the side of it, almost met, and seemed to 
 close the way ; but a little care put them 
 aside, and the travellers were able to get 
 through them with only a few scratches.^ 
 The road generally grew broader after they 
 had passed through these difficult parts, 
 and the travellers, after passing through 
 them, walked on more cheerfully, and 
 thought less of the steepness of the hills, 
 and of the difficulty of going down the 
 slopes, and seemed to be more careful to
 
 176 THE JOUENEY. 
 
 hold their lamps to their feet than they liaJ 
 been before. 
 
 Several of the travellers soon forgot the 
 directions of the King's servant. They 
 carried their lamps carelessly; they held 
 them above their heads; they forgot to 
 look to the trimming of them; the light 
 which was thrown upon the path was faint 
 and uncertain ; they did not see the stones 
 in their way, and met with several hard falls, 
 bruising themselves sadly ; they were angry 
 at their lamps, when they should have been 
 angry at themselves ; they fell behind their 
 companions ; they spilt their oil from their 
 cruse, and for want of trimming them, their 
 lamps went out : they were afraid to go on ; 
 they thought it was hardly worth their 
 while to continue such a journey, and said, 
 "Perhaps what has been told us of the 
 King's country is more than we should find 
 true if we got there ; at all events, I can- 
 not see my map without a light, and so I 
 had best grope my way back, and get into 
 the light ;" for outside the gate which led
 
 THE JOUENET. 177 
 
 to the King's path, there was plenty of 
 h'ght, such as it was. So many of these, 
 for want of takino- heed to the thmo-s which 
 had been told them, lost their pains and 
 went back to the gate. Many more were 
 vexed at the scratches they got in passing 
 through the thorns ; they sat down by the 
 road-side to look at the marks of the thorns; 
 they put their lamp aside, and never having 
 been really m earnest, they began to think 
 of turning back. They said to themselves, 
 " If we are to be obliged to go through 
 many of these thickets of thorns, we sliall 
 never get to our journey's end. They ought 
 at least to have been cut so as not to over- 
 hang the road, and make it almost impos- 
 sible to pass through them. This road, too, 
 is, after all, a dark and gloomy one : it will 
 scarcely repay us for all oui* trouble and 
 toil, even if we reach the land about which 
 they have told us so much. And are we 
 sure it is all true ?^ Has any one ever 
 seen it ? Has any one ever come back to 
 tell us about it ? The Kino-'s Son did not
 
 178 THE JOUENET. 
 
 tell US what kind of a country it is, though 
 he said it was a very happy one. I think 
 I shall turn back : I have not come far, and 
 the further I go the further I shall have to 
 retm-n, so I will go back at once." So say- 
 ing, many turned and walked on no further, 
 but left the company. 
 
 The rest of the travellers went on cheer- 
 fully along the road. It was very narrow^ 
 and by no means smooth, though very firmly 
 and strongly made, for the King himself 
 had caused it to be laid down, and every 
 part of it was made according to his own 
 directions. It was not so light at any part 
 of the journey, that the travellers could go 
 on without the help of their lamps. Some 
 of them seemed to thmk it would be so, 
 and did not take so much pains to use their 
 lamps when the thick darkness broke a 
 little, and so they fell over the, stones in the 
 road. They had to pass through several 
 thick forests, where the darkness grew 
 deeper ; and whenever the travellers came 
 to these very dark parts, and were careful
 
 THE JOUH^'ET. 179 
 
 to hold their lamps to their feet and keep 
 them trimmed, they fomid that the lamps 
 shot out such brioht and clear lio-ht in 
 those darkest parts of the way, that they 
 really got on better and had more light 
 there than at any other parts of the way 
 where it was not so dark and gloomy. 
 
 The Kino; had caused lodo-es to be built 
 all along the road for travellers to his coun- 
 try to rest in and refresh themselves. These 
 were placed at certain distances, and every 
 traveller was not only allowed but wished 
 to stop at every one of them, because the 
 King who had caused tliem to be built, 
 knew best how far they ought to go along 
 the road at one journey, and how often they 
 had better stop. Some of the first com- 
 panies that set out had taken advantage of 
 every resting-place,^ and they had gone on 
 faster for resting, and actually made more 
 way by stopping. The greater number of 
 them got safely to their journey's end, and 
 are now in the King's country, happy and 
 safe. But a great many of those who started
 
 180 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 after these, thought they had no need to 
 stop so often, and so thej passed by many 
 of the King's lodges without taking any 
 refreshment there ; but they did not get on 
 so well as the others did, and lost time by 
 going on, instead of gaining it. 
 
 When the company of travellers we have 
 spoken of had gone some way on their jour- 
 ney, they came to a part where several roads 
 ran across and into the King's road; som.e 
 of them ran on side by side with the other, 
 and, except that they were a little broader 
 and there did not seem to be so many stones 
 in them, were exactly like it. The travel- 
 lers stopped ;i° they did not know which 
 way to take, the roads seemed so nearly 
 alike and running in the same direction. 
 Several in the company had acted as guides 
 and leaders, — had always gone first and 
 eemed to imderstand the road well. When 
 they came, therefore, to this part where 
 these roads met, one or two of these guides 
 tliought differently about the way they 
 ought to take. " I am sure^" said one of
 
 TIIE JOURNEY. 181 
 
 them, "til at tliis is the right way. You 
 see that it runs very nearly straight, and the 
 stones are not quite so thick upon it, which 
 is all in our favour." " Let us look to the 
 map," said one of the travellers. " Why 
 look at the map ? " answered the other. 
 " I have got a little paper here written by a 
 traveller who went along this road himself, 
 and he says we should take this road — at 
 least I think he means the one I say." 
 '^ But let us look to the map," said the man 
 again. ^1 " The King's servants gave us no 
 book or paper, but told uS that if we 
 minded this map we should not go wrong, 
 and that when we could not be quite sure 
 from the map, we must look for the Prince's 
 way-marks and footsteps." ^^Well," said 
 the other, " you may do as you please ; I 
 put the greatest confidence in the directions 
 of this traveller, for he was a very ex- 
 perienced one, and / mean to go this road." 
 '^ And we mean 'to go with you," said seve- 
 ral of the company at once. " We have 
 seen how well you have gone before us
 
 182 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 hitherto, and we cannot think you can be 
 wrong now. So we will go the road you 
 go."i- So the man and the persons that 
 followed him left the rest, and went along 
 the road they chose, and got on, as they 
 seemed to themselves, a long way before 
 others. The rest, who were thus left 
 behind, having trimmed their lamps, held 
 them to their map, but they could not be 
 quite sure which road was the right one. 
 " I am inclined to think," said one, " that 
 this is the King's road, because I see that 
 the stones in it are of the same kind we 
 have been travelling over. Besides, it is 
 no broader than the other, and you see it 
 goes up hill, whereas the others seem to 
 slope downwards; but we must look out for 
 the Prince's way-marks." So the rest went 
 about, holding down their lamps to their 
 feet to see if they could find any of the 
 way-marks; but after looking for some time 
 they could see none. At last one of them, 
 holdino; his lamD very low, cauMit siffht of 
 a foot-mark on the road, which he knew at
 
 THE JOUENET. 183 
 
 once to be the Prince's. He called the rest 
 to him, and when they had looked at it 
 they were all sure that the road they had 
 taken was the right road.^^ They were 
 very sorry for their companions, that they 
 had been so hasty and confident, and had 
 minded more what their guide had said than 
 what the King's servant had told them, and 
 had not looked to their map, but the paper 
 of the traveller. They called loudly down 
 the road their companions had gone, but 
 they were out of hearing, for they had gone 
 quickly down the sloping road, which was 
 quite smooth and easy, and did not find 
 they were wrong till they had gone some 
 way, and then it was only a feio that found 
 they were wrong. The guide kept telling 
 them that he knew the way, and that they 
 should get safely to their journey's end; 
 but some knew they were wrong — the}^ saw 
 no way-marks nor footsteps — their lamps 
 got dim, though the darkness had broken 
 a good deal, and they made up their minds 
 to return; but they had hard work to do so.
 
 184 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 The road tliej had come down so quickly 
 and easily, they could not get up so easily ; 
 the gravel kept slipping from their feet,^* 
 and their lamps gave them at first very little 
 lisht. But at last some of them got back 
 to the place from which they had gone 
 wrong; and, by using their lamps care- 
 fully, looking attentively at their maps, 
 and searching for the way-marks and foot- 
 steps, they got into the King's road again, 
 tired and weary, but thankful and grateful, 
 and made up their mind never to follow any 
 man again, no matter how clever he might 
 seem, unless that man proved himself to be 
 right by his map, and by showing them the 
 Prince's way-marks and footsteps. ^^ Others 
 of the company, who had left the highway, 
 stracpsled alonor a road that led them back 
 to the place from which they first started, 
 and they never made any attempt to get to 
 tlie road again. The rest went on, and as 
 their lamps grew dim they lighted some 
 torches, which they made out of some fallen 
 pitch-pines and straw and stubble; these
 
 THE JOURNEY. 185 
 
 made a great flare for some time, but when 
 they most wanted them, went out and left 
 them in utter darkness. 
 
 As the others who had kept in the right 
 road began to go forward, they heard a 
 voice behind them say, " This is the way, 
 walk ye in it." They could not see who 
 spoke, but it encouraged them very much, 
 as they were now quite sure that they were 
 in the King's road. They went on very 
 cheerfully and thankfully ; they valued 
 their maps and lamps more than ever, and 
 took more care to keep their lamps trimmed 
 and fed, and to hold them down to their 
 feet. They fomid a good deal of dust cling 
 to their clothing and their body, but they 
 remembered the directions which the Kincr's 
 servant had given them at starting; they 
 looked out for the stream of \vater he had 
 spoken of, and were not long in finding it, 
 for sometimes it ran quite close to the road, 
 and was never very far from it ; and after 
 bathing in this fresh, clear, running water, 
 they found their stiffiiess and weariness
 
 186 THE JOUENET. 
 
 quite gone, their spirits refreshed, their 
 strength renewed,^^ and all the dust of the 
 day washed off. 
 
 One of the hills over which they had to 
 go was very hard to get up. Instead of 
 the road being of strong firm ground 
 (though sometimes rough and stony), it was 
 made of very loose gravel, into which the 
 travellers sunk up to their knees. The hill, 
 too, was rather steep, and some of the 
 travellers were inclined to stop when they 
 had gone up a little way ; but they found 
 themselves slipping back, the gravel gave 
 way from under their feet; and if they had 
 not tried all they could at once to get up, 
 they would soon have fallen back to the 
 bottom of the steep again. 
 
 As they came near to the end of their 
 journey they were able to look back on the 
 path by which they had come. The dark- 
 ness cleared away for a little while, and 
 they were able to see, at a great distance 
 behind them, the gates at the beginning of 
 the Kincv's road ; the road runninoj straight
 
 THE JOUlvNEY. 187 
 
 over hill and dale, noio plunging into a 
 thick forest and lost in the trees, then 
 coming out at the other end. They could 
 also see the false roads meeting this, and 
 were able to remember what happened at 
 the different parts of the road. " There," 
 said one, " we had to pass through a very 
 close thicket of thorns." " And do you see 
 the spot," said another, "where we found 
 the Prince's way-marks after looking for 
 them so long ? " " And do you remember," 
 said another, " how we slipped as we came 
 down that liill? But we must not look 
 back, except to see how far we have been 
 brought on our journey, and to learn to be 
 thankful for having come so far in safety." 
 When the travellers were able thus to look 
 back and see all the way by which they had 
 been led, it made them rejoice in hope of 
 soon seeing the King's country; and as the 
 darkness soon settled down upon the road 
 again, they turned their faces towards the 
 King's country, and went on again with 
 cheerful and hopeful hearts.
 
 188 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 The last hill to which travellers come 
 before they pass over the bridge that leads 
 into the King's country, is a very high, 
 steep hill. From the top of this, if the 
 darkness should clear away from the hill-top, 
 you may see the deep, broad, and swift 
 river which rmis at the foot of the hill, and 
 lies at the very fm'thest end of the King's 
 road; you may see the high, narrow bridge, 
 like a rainbow, so thin and arched, over 
 which travellers have to cross the river; and 
 very often the glorious inhabitants of the 
 other land may be seen crossing this bridge, 
 and coming out to meet travellers, as they 
 reach their journey's end. Sometimes the 
 cloud and darkness is so thick upon the hill, 
 that the travellers can see nothing except 
 by the help of their lamps ; but these 
 generally biu'n brighter at the last, and often 
 2:ive more clear, and beautiful, and cheering 
 li^ht on the path, which lies at the very 
 foot of the bridge, than they gave all the 
 journey through. But other tra\'ellers have 
 had glimpses from the top of this hill even
 
 THE JOUivNET. 189 
 
 of the royal city, and have told tliek fellow- 
 travellers of what they saw. Sometimes 
 the bridge has been covered with a heavy 
 darkness, and no part of it could be seen, 
 while beyond it streaks of light played over 
 the distant country, and encoiu'aged the 
 traveller as he was about to step upon the 
 steep and narrow bridge, and cross the dark, 
 deep, and gloomy river. 
 
 Many of the young children, who were 
 among the company of travellers, and were 
 not able to use their little lamps so well as 
 the older ones, when they reached the top 
 of the hill, caught sight of the bridge (for 
 the darkness there was not like when it is 
 dai'k amoncT us, but it mi^-ht be dark romid 
 one, and a streak of light all the while 
 enabling another to see for beyond). So 
 some of these yomig travellers, when they 
 came to the top of the hill, said, " Oh, what 
 a beautiful sight! Do you see those bright, 
 glittering creatures, that are coming over 
 that high bridge ? They seem as if tliey 
 had come to welcome us, and the darkness
 
 190 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 seems as if it was gone from tlie path 
 leading down to the river — it quite shines 
 witli the light." Their fatliers, and mothers, 
 and friends, could see nothino' of tliis. So 
 these young travellers began cheerfully, and 
 with smiles upon their faces, to go down 
 the hill.^^ The rest did the same, and 
 doubtless they have all, by this time, 
 crossed the bridcje, and reached the Kinix's 
 country in safety, for it was never known 
 that any who had come so far along the 
 road, carefully looking at their maps, using 
 their lamps to their feet, observing the 
 way-marks and the Prince's footsteps, and 
 following their guides only as they followed 
 the directions of the King's servants, ever 
 failed to get in safety to their journey's 
 end.
 
 NOTES. 191 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 * John, xiv. 6. — I am the way, the truth, and the 
 life.— Heb. xi. 13.— These all died in faith. 
 
 •^ 1 Pet. ii. 21. — Leaving us an example, that ye 
 should follow his steps. 
 
 ^ Mark, xvi. 15. — Go ye into all the world, and 
 preach the Gospel to every creature. 
 
 * Alatt. iii. 9 Think not to say within yourselves, 
 
 We have Abraham to our father. 
 
 ^ Psalm cxix. 105. — Thy word is a light unto my 
 feet, and a lamp unto my paths. 
 
 ^ John, xvi. 33. — In the world ye shall have tribu- 
 lation : but be of good cheer ; I have overcome the 
 world. 
 
 " Psalm cvi. 24. — Yea, they despised the pleasant 
 land, they believed not his word. 
 
 * Matt. vii. 14. — Narrow is the way that leadeth 
 unto life, and few there be that find it. 
 
 5 Acts, ii. 42. — And they continued steadfastly in the 
 Apostles' doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of 
 bread, and in prayers. 
 
 '0 Jer. vi. 16.— Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the 
 ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the 
 good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for 
 your souls. 
 
 '* Isa. viii. 20. — To the law and to the testimony: 
 if they speak not according to this word, it is because 
 there is no light in them.
 
 192 NOTES. 
 
 '* Jer. xvii, 5. — Cursed is the man that trusteth 
 •n man, and niaketh flesh his arm, and whose heart 
 leparteth from the Lord. 
 
 '5 1 Thess. V. 21.— Prove all things ; hold fast that 
 which is good. 
 
 '■* Prov. xiv. 14. — The backslider in heart shall be 
 filled with his own wajs. 
 
 '^ 1 Cor. xi. 1. — Be ye followers of me, even as I 
 also am of Christ. 
 
 '^ Isa. xl. 31. — They that wait on the Lord shall 
 renew their strength ; they shall run, and not be 
 weary ; they shall walk, and not faint. 
 
 '' Deut. viii. 2. — And thou shalt remember all the 
 way by which the Lord thy God led thee. 
 
 *^ Isa. xl. 11. — He shall gather the lambs with his 
 arm, a ad carry them in his bosom.
 
 THE FOWLER. 
 
 It was a fine summer's day, the sun was 
 sliinino; clear and strono; in the brio-ht blue 
 sky, a gentle breeze was sweepmg through 
 the air, carrying a few light clouds along, 
 which seemed like islands of light in the 
 midst of the wide blue around them. Se- 
 veral rivers, broad and deep, were rolling 
 through the plain towards the sea, which, 
 at a distance, glittered in the sunbeams 
 with its countless ripples like a silver shield. 
 Various little rivulets were winding through 
 the fields to join the larger streams, and 
 some small mountain streamlets, as they 
 leaped from stone to stone, down the sideg of 
 the heath-covered hills, looked like threads 
 of silver on cushions of purple. 
 
 There was a very large thick wood, which 
 seemed, from the sounds that rose from it, 
 p
 
 194 Tire FOWLER. 
 
 to be full of birds ; but the sounds did not 
 seem like those of common birds, they were 
 more like the busy hum of a large market- 
 place or exchange. Hearing this unusual 
 sound I walked into the wood. I soon saw 
 some of these birds ; they were of very dif- 
 ferent colours and sizes, though in shape 
 they were generally alike. Some of them 
 were covered all over with the finest gold 
 and silver feathers, mixed with deep blue, 
 and purple, and scarlet; they had fine 
 crests on the top of their heads, and strutted 
 along the ground, almost sweeping it with 
 their wings, as if they knew how gay their 
 feathers were, and how fine they looked. 
 These birds were sm-rounded by others, 
 less gay in their plumage than the first, 
 but still plainly belonging to the same class 
 of birds. Some of these went before, as if 
 to make way for the fine gold and silver 
 bird that walked so pompously in the midst. 
 Some walked b}^ his side and some followed 
 him.^ I observed, that though they all 
 looked as if they were walking at liberty,
 
 
 i. 
 
 '4 
 
 " A large and beautiful aviary. 
 
 Pag 195
 
 THE rOWLEE. 195 
 
 they could only go a very little way, for 
 they all had chains of very thin, and almost 
 invisible thread, round their legs ; and when 
 they had gone a little way, they were obliged 
 to go back again as soon as they had come 
 to the end of their chain. ^ There seemed 
 to be plenty of food for them, for the fruits 
 were lying thick on the ground, and, burst- 
 ing as they fell, left their seeds bare for 
 these bh'ds to pick and eat. I walked on a 
 little way further, and met several more of 
 these cui'ious birds. I saw some which had 
 lost almost all their feathers, and looked as 
 bare and miserable as anything coidd be. 
 The rest seemed to take no notice of them, 
 but walked about on their own business."* 
 
 I went on further, and at last came to a 
 large open space, sui'rounded on all sides 
 by trees. At one end of this open space 
 there was a large and beautiful aviary, filled 
 with birds ; * and instead of the gabbling 
 noises, which the other birds that I had 
 seen in the wood were makmg, these birds 
 were singing the sweetest songs, so soft and
 
 196 TIIE FOWLER. 
 
 solemn, and yet so clear and full, that they 
 seemed to spread all around and make the 
 air full of music. The doors of this aviary 
 were open, and many of the birds which 
 belonged to it were walking about in front, 
 picking up the seed which had been scat- 
 tered about for their food. It seemed very 
 plain seed, and I observed that the birds 
 were soon satisfied;* and though some of 
 the same kinds of fruit had either fallen 
 from the trees, or been placed on the gromid 
 near the aviary, yet these birds did not 
 touch them as the other birds did, but were 
 content with the plain seed and water pro- 
 vided for them. 
 
 Almost all the birds in this aviary were 
 very plain in their plumage; scarcely any 
 of them had those fine gold and silver 
 feathers, that deep blue, and scarlet, and 
 purple, which the birds I saw strutting 
 about in the wood wxre covered with :^ 
 and those few, which had some fine feathers 
 about them, did not seem proud of them, 
 and were not followed about by a crowd of
 
 THE FOWLEK. 197 
 
 other birds ; for it seemed as if, in this avi- 
 aiy, the birds that sang the sweetest notes, 
 and kept up their cheerful, solemn songs the 
 best, were most thought of by the rest ; and 
 I saw many a little modest-looking bird, 
 with plain grey feathers, which had gone 
 mto some unnoticed corner of the aviary, 
 or was unobserved, as it seemed, among 
 the branches of the trees that overhung it, 
 pouring forth such a flood of sweet, clear, 
 cheerful sounds, as made every heart dance 
 with pleasure, and set the other birds trymg 
 to copy the notes and sing their song too : 
 so that, when the song seemed dropping, 
 one bird stuTcd up the rest to sing, and all 
 day long there was one continued chorus of 
 sweet notes filling the aviary, and sounding 
 quite through the wood.^ 
 
 On listening very carefully, I found that 
 these birds spoke ; and on paying close at- 
 tention to their songs, I could make out the 
 words they said. They were all about the 
 care that was taken of them there, the safety 
 in which they were kept, the abundant sup-
 
 198 THE FOWLER. 
 
 ply of foo^ they enjoyed, and the kindness 
 of their keeper and his servants. 
 
 I observed that these birds had no chain, 
 nor anything that could be seen to keep 
 them from rambling away from the aviary, 
 though I soon saw that their safety was in 
 keeping near to it, so as to be always within 
 reach in case of danger; for though they 
 were really safe while in the aviary, and 
 near it, yet there were many dangers about 
 the place. 
 
 Many hawks and kites, and other fierce 
 birds, were continually hovering about to 
 attack the birds from the aviary ; and they 
 had sometimes hard work to drive them off, 
 and get back to their home again.'^ There 
 were, indeed, very few that had not, at some 
 time or other, been severely wounded and 
 torn by them. The very little ones, how- 
 ever, were, I found, specially guarded. I 
 saw one fierce hawk balancing himself in 
 the air, just over several little birds that had 
 walked some small distance from the aviary; 
 they were quite ignorant of any danger
 
 THE FOWLER. 199 
 
 hanging over them ; and it seemed as if 
 some of them must fall a prey to the fierce 
 hawk, when once he should pounce down 
 upon them. But, just as he was going to 
 drop like lightning upon them, one of the 
 keepers, whom I had not seen before, but 
 who had been w^atching the brood of little 
 ones, came and stood by them, stretched 
 out his hand over them, and looked up at 
 the hawk,^ which darted away the moment 
 he caught sight of the keeper's eye. 
 
 I observed, that all round this aviary, at a 
 little distance from it, traps were set baited 
 wdth all kinds of different thmgs. The 
 traps were made of the same kind of thin, 
 transparent string, with which the birds I 
 had seen, on first coming mto the wood, 
 were fastened, so that they could not get 
 away ; and on coming into the wood at the 
 first, I found myself entangled in something 
 very thin but very strong, which twisted 
 round my legs and over my face and hands, 
 as I was walkmg into the wood. I found 
 that there was a strong net-work spread all
 
 200 THE FOWLEE. 
 
 over the entrance to the wood, made of some 
 stuff much thinner than spiders' webs, but 
 stronger than the strongest wire, which I 
 was obhged to lift up from the ground, that 
 I might pass under and get into the wood. 
 The traps I saw round about the aA'iar j were 
 made of this same thread, which was so very 
 strong that it could not be broken, and yet 
 so very thin that it could scarcely be seen. 
 I saw a very fearfid-looking creature, mi- 
 like anything I had ever seen before, busy 
 about these traps: though / saw it, it was 
 plain that the birds in the aviary did not. 
 This dreadful-looking creatm-e was setting 
 the traps and putting in the baits, which 
 were very different. In one trap he put a 
 little gold circle with some pearls on it ; in 
 another some of the fine blue, crimson, and 
 pui'ple feathers I saw on the bu'ds in the 
 wood ; but the bait most frequently put in, 
 was made of pieces of what looked like 
 white and yellow clay, though it shone and 
 glittered. The birds from the aviary could 
 scarcely help coming neai' these traps when-
 
 THE FOWLER. 201 
 
 ever they walked about, and many of those 
 which had once been in the aviary were led 
 to look at the baits and were caught. I 
 could not understand what there was in this 
 ^^'hite and yellow clay, which should make 
 these silly birds wish to go near it. They 
 could not eat it, and all they could do was 
 to carry it away ; but almost every bu'd that 
 had once got a hankering for this bait, was 
 caught and chained by the dreadfid-lookmg 
 creature that w as watching the traps.^ I 
 saw that he did not throw down the wire 
 nets at first; he let them turn over the 
 baits, and look at them, and carry away a 
 little lump, and they were almost sure to 
 come again to the trap and at last be caught. 
 When they next came near the trap they 
 went at once to tliis bait, and though they 
 could not eat it, nor taste it, nor indeed do 
 anything but look at it,^° they were so 
 taken up with looking at it that they gave 
 no heed to what was being done to catch 
 them. The fine wire nets w^ere lifted up by 
 strings, and that wicked-looking creature.
 
 202 THE FOWLER. 
 
 who was trying to catch the birds from the 
 aviarj, flapped them down so as to shut 
 them m on every side, and they knew no- 
 thing about it, till they found his chain 
 fastened roimd their legs and their liberty 
 taken away. Still even after this it was 
 strange to see how entirely taken up they 
 were with their wliite and yellow clay; they 
 did notliing all day but scrape it together ; 
 one poor silly prisoner was continually striv- 
 ing with the rest, which should get together 
 the greatest number of lumps, and the bird 
 that had got the largest heap of this glitter- 
 ing stuff, though he was envied by those 
 who had not got so much, w^as made a great 
 deal of by the rest. Wherever he came, the 
 other birds who had not got so much, but 
 wished to get it, made way for him," and 
 the bu'd walked about with an air as much 
 as to say, " I am the bird that has got so 
 many bits of white and yellow clay." I 
 saw some other traps baited with fine blue, 
 scarlet and purple feathers. The birds that 
 were caught by this bait were those that
 
 THE FOWLET?. 203 
 
 were not contented with the plain, simple- 
 looking featliers, which the birds in the avi- 
 ary wore ; they had seen those fine-looking 
 birds that were strutting about outside the 
 aviary in the wood, though they, had not 
 seen their chains, and they thought what a 
 fine thino^ it must be to have such beautiful 
 feathers, and walk about in the wood for 
 every bird to admire them. So when they 
 saw the bright pui'ple and scarlet and blue 
 feathers lying on the ground (as they 
 thought, for they did not see the trap), 
 they first took up one and then another, 
 and while busied about sticking these in to 
 make themselves look as fine as they could, 
 the spring was touched, the strong and al- 
 most invisible nets were drawn tocrether, 
 ^nd they were caught. 
 
 I saw that some of these birds, which 
 had been caught, were made use of as decoy 
 birds to catch others. The dreadful-look- 
 ing fowler did not fasten these birds to the 
 ground, as the others were, but let them go 
 into tlie aviary with a long piece of the in-
 
 204 THE FOWLER. 
 
 visible thread round their legs. They looked 
 almost the same as before they had wan- 
 dered from the aviary and been caught, and 
 the bu'ds in the aviary could scarcely have 
 found any difference in their appearance : 
 they sang quite loud, indeed they made 
 more noise than they had been used to do, 
 but their song was not so cheerful, it seemed 
 strained and forced ; and then they tried to 
 entice the other birds to go with them into 
 the wood, and told them of all the beautiful 
 things they had seen there, and endeavoured 
 to make them discontented with the quiet of 
 tlie aviary, — with the plain seed and water 
 — by talking of the fruits that they could 
 gather in the wood, and telling them how 
 they would have their liberty,^ ^ and be able 
 to do just as they liked, and be clothed with 
 fine feathers, and have no keepers to be al- 
 ways looking after them. Many silly young 
 Ijirds were persuaded by these false words 
 to leave the aviary, and never came back. 
 
 I saw some other traps, baited with little 
 troughs full of what looked like water of
 
 THE FOWLEK. 205 
 
 different colours. I saw some birds stop 
 and sip of these troughs, and then go on 
 further ; but they had not gone far before 
 they began to flap their wings, and crow, 
 and shake their feathers, and chup ; and 
 directly they came near another of the 
 troughs, they went up to it, and sipped 
 and drank some more, and generally sank 
 down, as if stupid, after drinking once or 
 twice of those troughs, and were caught, 
 without making even a struggle, in the 
 traps.^^ These poor birds, directly they 
 awoke and found themselves prisoners, ran 
 up to the trough again, and soon forgot all 
 about their situation.^* They soon were 
 quite changed in their appearance ; their 
 feathers dropped off; they could not eat 
 even the fruits of the wood, and soon died. 
 I saw several birds that had wandered 
 from the aviary and been caught, when they 
 were in the trap, look piteously towards the 
 aviary, to see if the keeper were looking; 
 and when they did this, some one of the 
 servants that watched the aviary was sent
 
 206 THE FOWLEB. 
 
 to the trap. He struck the net, it broke in 
 a moment to pieces, and the poor frightened 
 bird spread its wings and flew back to its 
 home again,^^ and after being thus caught, 
 woukl never go far from the aviary, and 
 avoided going near any of those baits again. 
 But it was not only some of the birds 
 which had been just caught, that I saw thus 
 dehvered and return to the happy aviary ; 
 there were some that had wandered a very 
 great way into the wikl wood, and had never 
 come near the aviary for a long, long time ; 
 they had carefully avoided every path that 
 either led, or seemed to lead, towards it; 
 and had done all they could, both to get as 
 far away as possible, and to keep away from 
 it. Yet even some of these were brought 
 back. Though their fruits grew so abiui- 
 dantly in some parts of the wood, there 
 were other parts where no fruits grew, even 
 of the kmd that these birds lived on, where 
 all they could pick up were bitter berries, 
 ;which they would gladly not have eaten, 
 they were so bitter.'^ The wretched birds
 
 THE FOWLER. 207 
 
 wandered about, not knowing where to go ; 
 the cold winds, blowing through the open- 
 ings in the wood, pierced through and 
 throush their almost naked bodies, for the 
 feathers had nearly all dropped off ; and in 
 this part of the wood (though it may seem 
 very strange) it was quite winter, while, in 
 the other part, it seemed the height of sum- 
 mer : here there was not a leaf upon the 
 trees, the very bushes and underwood were 
 naked and bare ; the withered leaves, that 
 had fallen to the ground, were almost all 
 blown away by the violent winds ; so that 
 the poor shivering wanderer roamed about 
 day and night, not knowmg where to go for 
 warmth and shelter : and as for food, the 
 bitter berries could scarcely be called food. 
 When the poor bird was at last brought 
 quite low, so as to despair almost of life, 
 and was lying down on the cold ground to 
 die,^^ one of the servants of the aviary (who 
 had gone out by his master's orders, in 
 search of that stray bird and others, which 
 he was directed to go and fetch back) came 
 Q
 
 208 THE FOWLEK. 
 
 to where the miserable bird was lying down 
 to die. The poor proud wanderer was at 
 last humbled, so that instead of running 
 away from the servant, he laj; still till he 
 came to him. The kind servant took him 
 up in his arms and laid liim m his bosom, 
 and carried him back to the aviary, where 
 he was fed and nourished. And when he 
 was grown stronger, and could sing his song 
 with the rest, though there were many sweet 
 notes among those happy birds, there was 
 none more sweet to the ears of the keeper ^^ 
 than the soft, plaintive, and yet joyful note 
 of those poor birds which had been brought 
 back by the servants from the furthest 
 parts of that wmtry wood, and saved from 
 death when almost dying.
 
 NOTES. 209 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 * Jude, 16. — Having men's persons in admiration 
 because of advantage. 
 
 '^ Rom. vi. 16. — To whom ye yield yourselves ser- 
 vants (slaves) to obey, his servants (slaves) ye are to 
 whom ye obey. 
 
 ^ Luke, XV. 14, 16. — He began to be in want — and 
 no man gave unto him. 
 
 ■* Phil. iv. 11. — I have learned in whatsoever state I 
 am, therewith to be content. 
 
 ^ 1 Cor. i. 26. — Not many wise men after the flesh, 
 not many mighty, not many noble are called. 
 
 ^ Isa. xliii. 21. — This people have I formed for my- 
 self ; they shall show forth my praise. 
 
 "^ Eph. vi. 12. — For we wrestle not against flesh and 
 blood, but against principalities, against powers, against 
 the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual 
 wickedness (wicked spirits) in high places. 
 
 ^ Matt, xviii. 14. — It is not the will of your Father 
 which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should 
 perish. 
 
 9 1 Tim. vi. 9.— They that will be rich fall into 
 temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and 
 hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and per- 
 dition. 
 
 '° Eccles. V. 11.— What good is there to the owners 
 thereof, saving the beholding them with their eyes ?
 
 210 NOTES. 
 
 " Prov. xiv. 20. — The poor is hated even of his own 
 neighbour : but the rich hath many friends. 
 
 '^ 2 Pet. ii. 19. — While they promise them liberty, 
 they themselves are the servants of corruption. 
 
 '^ Prov. XX. 1. — Wine is a mocker, strong drink is 
 raging : and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise. 
 
 •'» Prov. xxiii. 35.— When shall I awake? I will 
 seek it yet again. 
 
 '* Psalm cxxiv. 7. — Our soul is escaped as a bird out 
 of the snare of the fowler : the snare is broken, and we 
 are escaped. 
 
 '6 Prov. i. 31.— Therefore shall they eat of the fruit 
 of their own way, and be filled with their own devices. 
 
 >7 Psalm zv'n. 12, 13.— They fell down, and there 
 was none to help them. Then they cried unto the Lord 
 in their t ^uble, and he delivered them out of their 
 distress^" 
 
 ^s Luke, XV. 7 X say unto you, that likewise joy 
 
 shall be in heaven ov3f one sinner that repenteth, more 
 than over ninety and nine just persons that need no 
 repentance.
 
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