CONTENTS
OF
THE  FIFTH  VOLUME.
Page
The Infant's Progress........                7
The Flowers of the Forest......  191
Juliana Oakley...241
Ermina........                                293
Emancipation.......355








THE
INFANT'S PROGRESS
FROM THE
VALLEY OF DESTRUCTION
TO
EVERLASTING  GLORY.








INTRODUCTION
TO
"THE  INFANT'S PROGRESS."
MY LITTLE CHILDREN,THE intention of this story is to make you ac,
quainted, in an agreeable manner, with many of those
awful mysteries of our holy religion, the knowledge
of which is necessary to your salvation.
You do not yet know what it is that has separated
you from your God: nor do you fully understand what
it was that induced the Lord our Redeemer to descend
from heaven for the purpose of assuming our nature,
and dying upon the cross. You have, perhaps, never
yet been informed that the sin of man's heart is very
great, very prevalent, and very hateful; and that, except
it be overcome, it will subject him to everlasting perdition.
Many long sermons have been preached, and many
learned volumes have been written, in order both to describe the nature of this sin, and to guard us against its
influence: but little children cannot understand these
grave and elaborate discourses.  I have therefore
written for your instruction on this subject a story about
some little children, who, like yourselves, were born in a
state of sin.  And in this story I have personified the
sin of our nature, and introduced it as the constant companion of these children.
The relation is given under the form of a dream, the
various incidents of which are so contrived as to show




8                 INTRODUCTION.
how incessantly sin assaults even those who are truly
devoted to God, and what unhappiness it causes them
from the beginning to the end of their days.
Through the whole of this dream, the present life is
compared to a pilgrimage, which signifies a journey undertaken for some pious purpose; and in every part of
it especial care has been taken distinctly to mark the
straight and only way to the kingdom of heaven,-viz.
the Lord Jesus Christ, who himself hath said, " I am
the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto
the Father but by me."
Now as nuts and almonds are hidden under rough
shells, and as honey is concealed in the bells and cups
of flowers, so there is a hidden meaning in every part
of my allegory, which I hope you will be enabled to
draw forth for your profit. In the mean time, my dear
children, I pray God to seal instruction upon your hearts,
and fill you with that heavenly wisdom whose price is far
above rubies.
I will just add, that this little work was composed in
the East Indies during the year 1814.




THE
INFANT'S PROGRESS, &c.
CHAPTER I.
ONE night as I lay upon my bed, I dreamed a dream.
Methought I was sitting upon some high place, resembling a cloud; beneath which there was spread out
a very large plain, called the Plain of Destruction, containing all the towns, and villages, and dwelling-places
of the children of men, with their kings' houses, and the
temples of their gods.
Some of these places possessed many external advantages, and were not unpleasant to look upon; for God
maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and
sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. Matt. v. 45.
Nevertheless, no man could remain in safety in any of
the habitations of this plain; because, from time to time,
the earth opened, and there came out fire and smoke,
hell itself lying close underneath: the place therefore
was properly termed the Plain of Destruction. More.
over, occasionally, dreadful storms of thunder and light.
ning broke over the plain; where I saw some as they
travelled through the country stricken with thunder.
bolts from heaven-For the Lord looked down from heaven
upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did
understand, and seek God: but they are all gone aside, they
are all together becomefilthy; there is none that doeth good,
no, not one. Psalm xiv. 2, 3.
Now, while I looked, behold, a certain person appeared clothed in white, and bearing in his hand the
Book of God. This person's name was Evangelist; and
being sent from God, he went from city to city, and from
house to house, warning men to flee from the wrath to
come. And these were the words in which he adc
A3




10           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
dressed them-" Ye are all sinful, ye are all unclean;
ye have departed from the service of the Lord your
Maker, and are under the condemnation of hell: nevertheless, the Lord hath prepared for you a way to escape;'for God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not
perish, but have everlasting life.' John iii. 16.
I saw, then, that to such as were disposed to inquire
further into this matter, being content to turn their backs
upon the world, and to take Christ for their portion,
Evangelist pointed out certain hills at a great distance,
over which there was stretched, straight as an arrow,
and as far as the eye could reach, a narrow path, having
so upward a tendency that I could not distinguish the
farther end of it, by reason of the glory and brightness
which were cast thereon from the heavens. Now at
the entrance of this path there was a narrow pass or cut
through the hills, where a little gate was placed, the
Lord Jesus Christ himself mercifully providing this way
for the escape of sinful men, and setting before them an
open door, which no man can shut. Rev. iii. 8. So I continued to look on Evangelist; and behold, he went to
the door of a small house in a certain little village, and,
as his manner was, he knocked thereat.
The name of this village was Family Love. Many
parts of it lay in ruins, having been destroyed by successive tempests and the heaving of the earth: nevertheless, what remained thereof was exceedingly fair and
lovely, so that in all the plain I saw not such another
village.
Now, as I before said, Evangelist knocked at the door
of a certain small house; when presently one coming
and opening the door, he entered in.
In this house dwelt a certain young man, with his wife
and their three little children. So I saw, in my dream,
that Evangelist delivered his message to the young man
and his wife, saying, " Flee from the wrath to come."
These young people then put certain questions to
Evangelist, saying, "Whither shall we flee  or who
shall help us V"
Upon which Evangelist gave them a book, and bade
them read therein. So they opened the book, and read
these words: Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in
God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many
mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. Igo




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.             11
to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a
place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.-I am the
way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father
but by me. John xiv. 1-3, 6.
Then said the young man, " Where shall we find him
of whom this is written V"
In answer to which, Evangelist opened his mouth and
taught them many things concerning the Lord Jesus
Christ: how God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the
Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the gentiles, believed
on in the world, received up into glory. I Tim. iii. 16.
And behold, while Evangelist yet spake, the Holy Spirit
of God entered their hearts, and they cried out, as with
one voice,  Lord, we believe; help thou our unbelief."
Mark ix. 24.
Evangelist then pointed out to them the means of
escape, even the little door which the Lord had opened
at the head of the way; and behold, a very bright light
issued from thence. Then said Evangelist, " Keeping
that light in your eye, go up directly to it; and when
ye come to the door, knock without fear. Christ is the
door: by him if any man enter in, he shall be saved." John
x. 9.
So while I continued to look, the man and his wife
began to put themselves in readiness for their journey;
busying themselves, at the same time, in teaching their
little ones such things as they had themselves learned
from Evangelist. But, while they lingered, Evangelist
hastened them, saying, " Escape for your lives; for the
time is short."
To which they replied, " Must we leave our little ones
behind 1"
" It is the will of God," answered Evangelist, " that,
for the trial of your faith, you should give up these little
ones for a season.' For every one that hath forsaken
houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or
wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall
receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting
life.' Matt. xix. 29.' Leave thy fatherless children; I
will preserve them alive, saith the Lord. " Jer. xlix. 11.
Now the poor parents, in obedience to the will of God,
kissed their pretty babes, and with many tears and
prayers charging them to follow their steps, they hastened away, because the messenger of God was ex



12            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
ceedingly urgent. So turning their steps towards the
shining light, they speedily reached the wicket-gate:
where the Lord of the way having graciously received
them, and washed them from their sins, and clothed
them in fair white garments, and set them in the narrow
path which leadeth unto the city-they were shortly
and safely conveyed through the black river of death
unto everlasting glory.
Upon this I turned my eyes towards the little ones,
who were left behind in their father's house-the eldest
of which was a boy named Humble Mind, being not
quite ten years old; and he had two little sisters, whose
names were Playful and Peace, the younger of whom
was of very tender age.
I saw, then, that, after their father and mother had left
them, very little care was taken of these poor babes:
so that their clothes were little better than rags; while,
like the prodigal son in the gospel, they would fain have
filled their bellies with the husks which the swine did eat.
Luke xv. 16. Moreover, I saw that they had for a
companion one who had been brought up under the
same roof with them, as ill-favoured and ill-conditioned
an urchin as one could see, whose name was Inbred or
Original Sin. His great forefather, a child of hell, came
into this world at the time when Adam ate the forbidden
fruit; and from that very moment he became the constant companion of our first parent. Moreover, as
Adam's family increased on the earth, in like manner
the family of Original Sin multiplied, filling the whole
earth with violence, and leading men to the commission
of every evil work (Galatians v. 19); insomuch that the
history of all the kingdoms of the earth, ay, and of
every individual in them, from the fall of Adam till now,
is filled up with the ill-doings of this apostate family.
And even now, so entirely are the sons of Adam under
the power of Inbred-Sin, that they cannot even wish to
dco well, without the help of God; but the Lord Jesus
Christ, having by his death upon the cross obtained for
us the assistance of the Holy Spirit of God, we are
enabled, through his help, to subdue our inbred corruption.
Having said thus much concerning the family of this
Inbred-Sin, I shall now proceed to describe what I observed of his habits and tempers, wherein he differed so
little from other individuals of his hated race, that in




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             13
describing one of the family I cannot fail to convey a
tolerably correct idea of all the rest.
In the first place, I remarked that he never slept;
but that he was on the alert, and, as it were, on the lookout for occasions of action both day and night, neither observing any Sabbath-day himself, nor allowing
any season of rest to those with whom he familiarly
associated: for the wicked are like the troubled sea, when
it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. Isa.
lvii. 20. His grand work was that of contriving mischief, and setting others to execute it; and from this
work he never ceased. Even while the children were
in their beds, he would sit on their pillows and whisper
all manner of evil in their ears, filling their fancies with
idle dreams, and suggesting such a variety of unholy
thoughts, that on their awaking they were prepared for
every evil deed.
Another quality of Inbred-Sin appeared to be this, that
he was a stranger to shame, and could neither be put
out of countenance, nor thrown off his guard; so that
when pursuing any object, if baffled in one way, he
would instantly wheel about and come to the very same
point by some other way, and that, perhaps, such a
round-about one, as would make it believed that he had
given up the very purpose which he was then actually
carrying into effect. He had also this further quality in
common with others of his family, that the more he
was submitted to, the more unreasonable he became in
his demands; frequently requiring such compliances as
led, not only to great inconvenience, but to imminent
danger.
It is true that the children had no desire to contend with him; nay, they had, in fact, great pleasure in
obeying his commands. Nevertheless, there were occasions, as I said before, when he would require them to
do such things as necessarily exposed them to the
danger of immediate punishment; and, on these occasions, something like an argument or discussion would
arise between them, when it was marvellous to observe
how he would proceed till he had brought about his
design.
It was also wonderful what devices he would put the
little ones upon, in order to avoid detection: and if at
any time they were found out in a fault, he was never at
a loss to gloss it over, by putting some plausible false



14           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
hood into their mouths. And if nothing else could
screen them from punishment, he would put them upon
seeming humble and sorry for the offence they had committed; merely for the purpose of bringing themselves
out of present trouble. At other times he would set
them to quarrel one with another, instigating each one
to set up himself in opposition to the rest.
Moreover, I saw that this Inbred-Sin never left the
children; dwelling in their house, lying in their bosoms,
walking out with them when they went abroad, and
sitting down with them at all their meals: neither indeed was there any thing done in the family, great or
small, in which this busy one did not meddle and make.
I perceived, further, that this Inbred-Sin loathed and
hated all that was good, influencing the children to do
the same; so that, if by chance they heard any one of
their neighbours reading a good book, or speaking a
word for God, they would shut their ears and run away;
choosing rather to wallow with the swine in the mire of
the streets, than to give their hearts to any good. And
in proportion as Inbred-Sin influenced the children to
hate and loathe all that was good, he caused them also
to desire and eagerly long after all manner of evil; so
that " they gave themselves over to work all uncleanness
with greediness." Ephes. iv. 19.
Then began I to fear for these little ones, and to consider by what means they might be delivered from the
power of this Inbred-Sin-" for the wages of sin is
death." Rom. vi. 23.
CHAPTER II.
AFTER awhile I looked again at these three children,
to wit, Humble Mind, Playful, and Peace; and behold,
Evangelist again came up to the door of their dwell.
ing, and knocked.
Then said Inbred-Sin, " Behold, Evangelist knocks at
the door. Open not to him; for Evangelist is a hard
master, and he will bring us to judgment for our faults."
Now I saw, in my dream, that while the children
stood doubting whether they should open the door,




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            15
Evangelist put his hand in by the hole of the door, and entered the house. Cant. v. 4. Then were the hearts
of the children moved towards him; and behold, InbredSin shrank back and hid himself.
I heard then that Evangelist opened his mouth and
spake tenderly and comfortably to these little ones.
And first he showed them, that although they were
under the dominion of Inbred-Sin, and by their unholy
living were prepared for eternal punishment, yet it was
not the will of their heavenly Father that one of them
should perish. After this he explained unto them, as his
manner was, what God had done for the salvation of
men; how he had sent his only Son, the Lord Jesus
Christ, to take upon him a human form, and to die upon
the cross for the salvation of all such as believed in
him. Moreover, he showed them how Christ had, by
his death, procured for mankind the assistance of the
Holy Spirit of God, through which every man might
be enabled to war with and finally to overcome his
inbred or original sin. He then pointed out to them the
only path to everlasting happiness, even the narrow pass
cut through the hills, which openeth into the way of
salvation; after which he gave to each of them a book,
even the Book of God, bidding them to read therein,
and pray for the Spirit of Truth (that is, the Holy Ghost),
that he might guide them into all truth. John xvi. 13. So
he departed for a while.
Now I saw, in my dream, that, as soon as Evangelist
was departed, Inbred-Sin came forth from his hidingplace, and behold, he was in a fearful rage.
" What," said he, " has this man been saying T Would
he have you to leave all your friends and neighbours,
your playmates and companions, your sports and pleasures, in order to take up the life of a pilgrim? Would
he have you to spend all your time in reading dull
books, and in saying your prayers? I hate this man,
and his books, and his counsels."
"But," said Humble Mind, " if we do not hearken
to the words of Evangelist, and if we remain in this
place until we die, shall we not go to hell V"
Upon which I heard Inbred-Sin pleading thus with the
children: " Are you not very young, and will it not be
many years before you become old' and when you are
old, will it not be time enough to think of dying V"
" But many children die," said Humble Mind.




16           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
To which Inbred-Sin replied, " If you should happen
to die while you are a child, God will not punish you for
your faults as he will punish those of maturer age who
know better."
"But I know that I ought to be good," answered
Humble Mind, " though I am not yet a man."
"Well, then," said Inbred-Sin, seeing that he could
in no other way prevail, " if you cannot be satisfied to
stay here, and live like other children, but must go on
pilgrimage; why then you must needs go. It is not
necessary, however, that you should set out to-day; tomorrow will be time enough: let us therefore, for the
present, put away Evangelist's books, and go to our
sports."
"Yes," said Playful, "do, Humble Mind, put away
the books now. Let us spend this evening in play, and
to-morrow we will begin our journey to the Celestial
City."
So Humble Mind did as Inbred-Sin advised him. He
laid down the book which Evangelist had given him;
when I saw that the three children immediately went to
play, and Inbred-Sin went with them.
The next day I was anxious to observe whether the
children would bethink themselves of obeying the commands of Evangelist: but I found that Inbred-Sin would
in nowise allow them so to do.
Now Humble Mind could read very well, having been
carefully instructed by his father: neither were Playful
and Peace bad readers, considering their tender years.
Nevertheless, I saw that they gave no heed to the books
which Evangelist had given them; for although they
took them up several times, yet before they could get
through a single sentence of their contents, Inbred-Sin
expressed such a loathing and abhorrence of their employment, that they were glad, for the sake of quietness, to put the books aside again.
Then as to forsaking their home and going on pilgrimage, they seemed altogether to have lost all thought
of such a thing. Observing this, I looked again for help
for these children, crying out in a sort of unbelieving
despondency, "How can these sinful little ones be
saved!" But I considered not that " God is faithful, by
whom they were called unto the fellowship of his Son
Jesus Christ. For God. hath chosen the foolish things
of the world, to confound the wise; and God hath chosen




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            17
the weak things of the world, to confound the things
which are mighty; and base things of the world, and
things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and
things which are not, to bring to naught things that are:
that no flesh should glory in his presence." 1 Cor. i. 9,
27-29.
Now when things had remained for some time in this
state, I perceived that the Lord began again to deal with
Humble Mind, but after a manner somewhat different
from his former dealings with him; and behold he sent
another messenger unto him from on high, who appeared
before him at night, and this messenger's name was
Conviction-of-Sin. While Humble Mind was lying upon
his bed, I saw that Conviction-of-Sin stood before him.
" Fear came upon him, and trembling, which made all
his bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before his
face; the hair of his flesh stood up: it stood still, but
he could not discern the form thereof: an image was
before his eyes; there was silence, and a voice was
heard, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God T
shall a man be more pure than his Maker. Behold, he
put no trust in his servants: and his angels he charged
with folly: how much less in them that dwell in houses
of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, which are
crushed before the moth? They are destroyed from
morning to evening: they perish for ever, without any
regarding it." Job iv. 14-20. So this Conviction-of-Sin
stood before Humble Mind, and laid all his iniquities in
order before him; at which Humble Mind was so dreadfully alarmed that he trembled exceedingly, while the
water stood in cold drops upon his forehead.
Now when this new messenger first appeared, I perceived that Inbred-Sin hid himself in Humble Mind's
bosom. But after a while he began to look up, till by
degrees gathering courage, he sprang from his place, and
flying at the throat of Conviction-of-Sin, griped and
squeezed him after such a fashion, that I verily thought
he would have utterly destroyed him-the other however
exerting himself manfully, they continued struggling
and fighting till sunrise; each party in his turn, as he
obtained the superiority, attacking poor Humble Mind
in so vehement a manner, that I feared the poor boy
would be killed between them. But, as I have just intimated, when the sun arose, the contest ceased, Conviction-of-Sin then spreading his wings, and mounting




18          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
upwards; for Conviction-of-Sin is of heavenly birth, and
unto him it may truly be said, Blessed is the man whom
thou chastenest. Psalm xciv. 12. So Humble Mind was
left lying on his bed, sorely distressed, and bitterly
lamenting.
After this, I saw, in my dream, that it began to be
noised abroad in those parts, that Conviction-of-Sin had
visited Humble Mind; and thus the neighbours discoursed thereupon:-" What is this Conviction-of-Sin
which is come unto the child. What sin can this little
boy have been guilty of T But that same Evangelist,
who turned the heads of his father and mother, is, it
seems, frequently meddling with him; so that, unless
we can hit upon some method of diverting his thoughts
from the communications of that enthusiast, the boy
will never be good for any thing as long as he lives."
Then one neighbour said to another, " Come, let us go
and talk with this boy, and try to put other thoughts in
his head: for, if this Evangelist and his counsels prevail
in our streets, what will become of the honour of our
town; or how shall we preserve our credit among
men I"
So the neighbours agreeing together, they came to
Humble Mind's house; where, having knocked at the
door, they speedily obtained entrance, and found the
children preparing to be gone: for the pain and anguish
which Humble Mind had suffered from the attacks of
Conviction-of-Sin rendered it altogether impossible for
him to rest in the place where he was.
Accordingly, on rising from his bed, he had opened his
mind to his sisters, in spite of Inbred-Sin, who vehemently opposed him, declaring his determination, by God's
help, to set out on pilgrimage. He had also, through
the Divine blessing, obtained his dear sisters' consent, to
accompany him: so that, when the neighbours arrived,
they found the three children preparing to be gone.
Now I perceived that there arose a very vehement
dispute between the children and the neighbours who
were come to dissuade them from going on pilgrimage;
and behold, Inbred-Sin very resolutely sided with the
neighbours, applauding and seconding their carnal reasonings.
The neighbours represented to the little ones, that
the profession of a pilgrim was a profession as despicable as it was unprofitable; since nothing couldbe gained




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            19
by it, while much might be lost:" For," continued they,
"he that stays at home, and does his duty, is in as sure
a way of salvation as he that forsaketh all to follow his
own fancy."
Now Humble Mind knew not every argument proper
to be used against this false reasoning of his neighbours,
on account of his youth and inexperience; but he
made answer to the best of his ability, and said, " I have
not only been made to know my sins, but am convinced
that I can do nothing to save myself, all my best actions
being marred and spoiled by sin. I find therefore that
the assistance of one who is both able and willing to
save me is absolutely necessary to my deliverance; and
to such a deliverer I must fly. I do not however presume
to judge or decide for other people: there may, perhaps,
be some who do not stand in such need of a Saviour as
I do; but, for my own part, I have been made to know
that I am dead in trespasses and sins."
" And these little ones, thy sisters," said the neighbours, "what have they done, that they should be exposed to all the hardships of a pilgrim's life?"
To this Humble Mind replied, " I have heard it said,
and have also read in my book, that we are all born in
sin; and that, unless our nature is changed, and a right
spirit renewed within us, we must all surely perish. It
appears, then, that the youngest among us stands in as
much need of a Saviour as those who have committed
more actual offences; and hence it becomes the duty of
every child, as soon as he has any discernment, to inquire after this Saviour. On this account, therefore,"
continued Humble Mind, " I, who esteem myself the
chief of sinners, am, with God's help, about to leave all
things, in order to seek the way of salvation pointed out
in this holy book which I hold in my hand."
I perceived then, that, when the neighbours saw the
firmness of Humble Mind, after ridiculing and mocking
him, they proceeded to loud abuse, invectives, and
threatenings: but Conviction-of-Sin had dealt with Humble Mind to such purpose, that his determination to go
on pilgrimage was not to be shaken. Nevertheless, the
little girls were much terrified by the harsh language of
their neighbours; and their trouble was not a little increased by the whisperings of Inbred-Sin, who would
have it that they were running themselves into a thon



20           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
sand needless snares and troubles, by giving heed to the
advice of Evangelist.
Now I saw, in my dream, that, when the neighbours
perceived that they could prevail nothing, they took
counsel aside one with another; and this was the purport of their consultation:There dwelt in those parts a certain schoolmaster, one
who was countenanced by the king of the country, even
the prince of this world; and one who stood high in
favour with all the chief inhabitants and honourable nen
of the land.  This schoolmaster, whose name was
Worldly-Prudence, was descended from an ancient family,
and could boast of a long line of ancestry, all of whom
had been employed by the prince of this world in the
instruction of youth. He was a person of a venerable
appearance, and knew how to make himself agreeable to
all ranks and orders of men, having wit at will, and
arguments always ready to support his opinions. He
was well skilled in ancient learning, had much to say
in favour of human wisdom, and could speak largely
of the dignity of the human mind; but if he did not
utterly despise religion, as some confidently assert, he
at least gave it but a secondary and inferior place in all
the concerns of life.
Now as this schoolmaster was held in general respect
and fear by the children of the land, it was proposed by
the neighbours, when they discovered Humble Mind's
unyielding inclination to a pilgrim's life, that this schoolmaster should be brought to him and his sisters; " For,"
said they, " the children will assuredly acknowledge his
authority, although they despise our arguments."
So they made haste; and when they had found Mr.
Worldly-Prudence, they brought him to Humble Mind's
house. Then I hearkened to what should pass between
the schoolmaster and Humble Mind, confidently expecting that Mr. Worldly-Prudence would begin to rail at
religion and pour contempt upon a pilgrim's life; because
I knew that he was in the service of the prince of this
world. But I was mistaken; for he went more cautiously
to work, opening the conversation by speaking highly of
the religion of Christ, and praising those men who
faithfully devoted themselves to his service. And having
thus thrown Humble Mind off his guard, he proceeded
in a more direct manner to the accomplishment of
the business he had undertaken, namely, to turn the




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.             21
child from that way of salvation which Evangelist had
pointed out.
"Have you been informed, my son," said Mr. WorldlyPrudence, addressing himself to Humble Mind, " that
this way, into which you are so rashly and hastily determined to set your foot, is a way abounding in all
manner of snares and dangers; and that if you go unprepared to meet these dangers, you must inevitably
perish V"
"I know) sir," replied Humble Mind, "that the way
of the pilgrim is thickly set with dangers, and that I am
weak, and unprovided with any means of self-defence;
but Evangelist has taught me to trust in Him for help
who will assuredly bring me through every trial."
"The Lord our God," said Mr. Worldly-Prudence,
" as Evangelist has taught you, will no doubt ultimately
become our Saviour; but this consideration is by no
means to prevent us from exerting ourselves in the use
of those powers which God has given us for the promotion of his glory, and for our own preservation. In
the way which Evangelist has persuaded you to take,
you will meet with thieves, with wild beasts, with
giants, and dragons; with adversaries who will ridicule
and scoff at you; with some who will endeavour to
shake your faith by learned and wily arguments; and
others who will endeavour to mislead you by cunning
misrepresentations.
" Now, in order properly to meet all these difficulties,"
continued Mr. Worldly-Prudence, " you ought to understand the whole art of offence and defence as it is taught
in my school; and this I can speedily put you in the
way of acquiring, if you will but delay for a short time
your perilous undertaking, and put yourself under my
care. Moreover, you should have a familiar acquaint,
ance with such facts and objections, such reasonings and
representations, as your adversaries are likely to produce; lest, by your ignorance, you should bring the
Christian profession into disgrace. For the enemies of
our Lord are often found to be men of such deep learning, ready wit, and shining talents, as enable them
very readily to perplex and confound their opponents.
And how, I ask, can a child like you expect to prevail
against such wily antagonists?"
"Is it not written," said Humble Mind. " Out of the




22           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise?"
Matt. xxi. 16.
"It is so written," said Mr. Worldly-Prudence, " and
it doth so happen, sometimes, that even babes in Christ
appear to triumph over the wise and learned of this
world. But these are extreme and rare cases; and such
results can only be expected where the ordinary means
of improvement have not been enjoyed. But can the
blessing of God be expected to follow a youth who, on
being offered the advantages of human learning, rejects
them all, either from the indolence of his nature or from
his false notions of religion T Come with me, therefore,
I entreat you, Humble Mind," continued the schoolmaster; " remain but a while under my tuition, and you
shall then go forth not unprepared for that mighty warfare with demons and infidels, which he must needs engage in who becomes a pilgrim."
Now I perceived that Humble Mind did not thoroughly
understand all these big words which were used by Mr.
Worldly-Prudence; but so far he thought he understood
their meaning, viz. that the way of salvation was an
extremely dangerous way, and such a one as could not
be safely travelled by an ignorant or untutored child.
Here therefore the poor boy felt himself in a strait, not
knowing what to do or say: for as he was pressed on
one side by the dread of Conviction-of-Sin, from whose
assaults he was still exceedingly sore; so on the other
he was vehemently urged by Inbred-Sin and Mr. WorldlyPrudence, which last held him at this moment by the arm,
and seemed by no means inclined to leave his hold.
Now after a while I looked again, and, behold, the
enemy had prevailed; so I saw Mr. Worldly-Prudence
leading away Humble Mind to his school, having quieted
Playful and Peace by a promise that their brother should
soon return to them completely armed and prepared to
be their defender in the perilous journey which they
were desirous to undertake.
Then I looked again after Humble Mind, whom Mr.
Worldly-Prudence had conveyed to his school-house, a
very ancient building, situated on an unenclosed ground,
among wild olives and other trees, which had never
been grafted, and which therefore produced but little
fruit. And behold, many boys were passing to and fro
through the courts of the school-house; and I heark



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            23
ened to the language which they used, but it bore no resemblance to the language of Zion.
So Mr. Worldly-Prudence led Humble Mind into his
study; and having examined him concerning what he had
learned, he directed him to lay aside for the present the
book which Evangelist had given him; instead of which
he put into his hands certain heathen writers of ancient
date, which he assured him it was necessary that he
should study, in order effectually to refute the adversaries of religion. So having finished the examination,
the schoolmaster brought Humble Mind into the schoolroom among the other boys-and Inbred-Sin was with
him.
There Humble Mind remained for a season in the
school of Mr. Worldly-Prudence, studying such books as
were placed before him, and playing with his schoolfellows at their customary games.
Now I perceived, in my dream, that all who belonged
to the school were called Christians, and that certain
moral forms were observed by the master: while the
religion of Christ was never mentioned in the school;
neither was any reference made to our Lord's will and
pleasure in the conduct either of scholars or masters;
nor was I able to discover how that which was taught
the boys could have any tendency, either directly or
indirectly, to the advancement of religious knowledge.
Then anxiously watching to observe what effect this
mode of life would have upon Humble Mind, I speedily
remarked, that he grew utterly dull and dead with respect to the concerns of his soul; that he conversed
with Inbred-Sin as with a bosom friend and brother; and
that Inbred-Sin ruled him as entirely as he formerly had
done. Thus the enemies of the Lord for a while were
permitted to triumph. In the mean time I looked around
for help. but, for the present, could perceive none.




24            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
CHAPTER III.
Now I saw, in my dream, that it pleased the Lord of
pilgrims, after a time, to stretch forth his arm for the
preservation of the child. And behold, Evangelist came
to him as he stood before the door of the school-house,
and said, " Humble Mind, what doest thou here ~ Did I
not visit thee in thy father's house 1 and did I not warn
thee to flee from this country T Knowest thou not that
sure destruction awaits such as continue to dwell in this
place V"
On hearing the words of Evangelist, Humble Mind
began to tremble. Inbred-Sin also drew into the background; still however keeping close enough to the ear
of Humble Mind to whisper therein the answers which
he should make to Evangelist.
" Did I not point out," said Evangelist, " the dangers
which awaited thee on remaining in this place. and
did I not charge thee to flee by the gate which is erected
at the head of the way of life 1 What, then, art thou
doing here'"
To this Humble Mind replied, " Sir, fearing that I
might be too weak to wrestle with the enemies which I
was told would meet me in the way, I was persuaded to
come hither, in order to learn the art of attack and defence, and to obtain such other kinds of knowledge as
might fit me to contend with the adversaries of our
Lord."
" And what is that art of war T and what is that knowledge," asked Evangelist, " which thou hast been acquiring in this place I Knowest tlou not, my son, that he
only is strong who walks in the strength of the Lord.
and that he only is mighty in arms who puts on the
whole armour of God 1"
"I have acquired the knowledge of many estimable
things in this school," replied Humble Mind, " where
my master has endeavoured to confirm my belief in the
holy Book of God by making me study the writings of
ancient authors; several of whom are found so far to
agree with the sacred Scriptures as to cast some light
upon them."




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            25
"And hast thou not," said Evangelist, " while looking
at these lesser lights, forgotten to fix thine eye on that
diviner light which will not fail to shine brighter and
brighter unto the perfect day?"
I heard also that Evangelist proceeded to pronounce
certain dreadful threatenings in the ear of Humble
Mind; under the terrors of which he broke into tears
and cries, saying, " Sir, I confess that I have done amiss,
and desire to do better: but I am held in such a state of
bondage by this my companion, even this sin which so
easily besets me, that'the good that I would, I do not;
but the evil which 1 would not, that I do.' Rom.
vii. 19.
Then spake Evangelist-" Know, my son, that this
Inbred-Sin which dwelleth with thee is so exceedingly
powerful, that no man hath ever been able, by his own
strength, to break the yoke of that wicked one from off
his neck. When Adam transgressed the law of God by
eating the forbidden fruit, this Inbred-Sin was then conceived in his heart; and from thenceforward the nature
of every man, who is of the offspring of Adam, has been
very far drawn aside from original righteousness, and
strongly inclined to evil; so that the flesh lusteth always
against the Spirit. Moreover, this contrary tendency
so far prevails in every person born into the world, as
to deserve God's wrath and damnation. Wherefore no
man is counted righteous before God, excepting and only
for the merit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, by
faith, and not for his own works or deservings. That
holy Book therefore which I delivered to thee doth set
out unto us only' the name of Jesus Christ, whereby
men must be saved.' (Articles of the Church.) The Lord
Jesus Christ hath mercifully opened a way for sinners
unto salvation-He is' the way, the truth, and the life;'
and' no man cometh unto the Father but by him.' John
xiv. 6. Now I formerly pointed out to thee this way
of salvation, which is thus described-' Strait is the
gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life;
and few there be that find it: but wide is the gate, and
broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction; and many
there be which go in thereat."' Matt. vii. 13, 14.
I heard then that Evangelist spake of Mr. WorldlyPrudence and his followers. " These are the men," said
he, " who think themselves wiser than their Maker, and
who turn aside many young persons from the right way,
VOL. V.-B




26           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
in order to fill them with such knowledge as only puffeth
up, and tendeth to destruction. They take the sling
and the stone from the hand of the youthful pilgrim, and
put on him the armour of Saul; they rob him of his
Bible, and fill his mouth with the words of man's wisdom: so that more young pilgrims are destroyed by this
Worldly-Prudence than by thousands of the open enemies of our Lord."
In this manner spake Evangelist; after which I saw,
in my dream, that he again put into Humble Mind's
hand the Book of God, bidding him beware, and never
again part with it; " For it shall be," said he, " a lamp
unto thy feet, and a light unto thy path." Psalm cxix.
105.
So Humble Mind received the book; and, placing it
in his bosom, he gave his hand unto Evangelist; saying,
"God be merciful to me a sinner!"
Then Evangelist took the hand of the child, and drew
him forward towards the gate which led from the schoolyard.
Now I perceived that, when those scholars who were
in the yard saw Humble Mind going out from among
them in the hand of Evangelist, they raised such a hue
and cry, that the master and his assistants, with all
those who were in the school-house, came running out
to see what was the matter.
I heard also that there arose a very warm and vehement dispute between Mr. Worldly-Prudence and Evangelist; wherein Mr. Worldly-Prudence maintained that
he was one of the best friends of young pilgrims, and
that the object of his instructions was to bring them so
far acquainted with the writings of the best and wisest
of the ancients that they might have a decided advantage in arguing with the enemies of religion.
In reply to which, Evangelist read from his book the
following passage-" I will destroy the wisdom of the
wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the
prudent. Where is the wise  where is the scribe 
where is the disputer of this world. hath not God made
foolish the wisdom of this world 1" 1 Cor. i. 19, 20.
Upon which, I heard that Mr. Worldly-Prudence
charged Evangelist with enthusiasm and folly, saying
that he was the friend of indolence and ignorance, a
hater of learning, and a despiser of all the wisdom of
past ages.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            27
At this the whole school broke forth into loud taunts
and scoffs; whereat Humble Mind trembled exceedingly,
more especially as Inbred-Sin began, at the same time,
to whisper in his ears such things as filled him with
shame, and brought the blood up into his cheeks.
Nevertheless, through the secret help of God, he drew
not his hand from Evangelist, but kept close to him, till
that divine instructer had conveyed him out of the
school-yard, and brought him to a place from whence
the gate which leadeth to salvation might clearly be distinguished.
By this time Humble Mind had got out of the sound
of the scoffings and blasphemies of his late companions
in Mr. Worldly Prudence's school. Notwithstanding
which, his mind was as yet by no means at ease: since
no sooner had he begun to move towards the Way of
Salvation, than such a strife arose between him and
Inbred-Sin as would surely have proved too much for
him, had not the child received assistance from on high,
although he knew it not. Inbred-Sin first sprang upon
his back, where he lay like a drag upon a wheel; so
that the boy could hardly advance at all. I saw then
that Humble Mind tried to shake him off; but as fast as
he freed himself from him in one. part, this tormentor
fixed upon some other; now hanging on him by one
limb, and now by another; sometimes taking him by the
hair of the head, sometimes twitching him by the back;
sometimes by one elbow, sometimes by the other; but
still, as it were, in a sly and underhand way, though
without rest or intermission; for, as I said before, one
of the qualities of this family of Inbred-Sin is, that they
know not what it is to be fatigued or weary. In spite,
however, of the tormentor, Humble Mind, being led by
Evangelist, proceeded towards the gate which is at the
head of the Way of Salvation.
Then said Evangelist to the child, " My son, what
seest thou V"
Humble Mind. I see a light, which grows brighter and
brighter as I look thereon.
Evangelist. I am well pleased that thou art enabled to
discern that light. " Blessed art thou: for flesh and
blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but thy Father
which is in heaven." Matt. xvi. 17. This is "the root
and offspring of David, the bright and morning star"
B2




28           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
(Rev. xxii. 16); the leading star which hath brought
many to Zion.
Then Evangelist rejoiced in spirit, and said, " I thank
thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou
hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and
hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father; for
so it seemed good in thy sight." Matt. xi. 25, 26. So
Evangelist kissed the boy; and bidding him hasten to
the gate, and there knock boldly for admission, he withdrew himself from the eyes of the child.
Now I saw, in my dream, that when he which was
sent from God, to wit, Evangelist, had departed, InbredSin immediately faced about: and coming before the
little pilgrim, began openly and without disguise to impede him in his way. And first, he would have him to
stand still while he argued with him; and so pressing
was he, that the boy for quietness' sake, stood still to
hear what he had to say. Then began he to plead and
argue with Humble Mind, and that after such a fashion
as I had never witnessed before. He assured him, that
if he persevered in following the counsel of Evangelist,
he would become the laughing-stock of all the country; that he would lose all the good things of this world,
and be generally considered as a fool and a madman.
And when he found that these arguments would not prevail, he was for having Humble Mind just to go back and
take a handsome leave of his master and his schoolfellows: " For who knows," said this arch-tempter, " but
God may give you power to persuade a few of your old
playmates to come on pilgrimage with you — and thus
you may become the instrument of saving some whom
you love." He spake unto him also of his sisters, and
those of his father's house, earnestly pleading with him
to turn back, for the purpose of securing their company.
Thus Inbred-Sin sought to entice and entangle Humble
Mind through the affection he bore to his earthly friends.
But when this would not do (for Humble Mind was too
hot upon his journey to be thus put by), Inbred-Sin
shifted his ground again, and asked him how he could
think of appearing before the Lord of the gate clothed
in those filthy rags, and with Inbred-Sin as his companion T " for," added he, spitefully, " wherever thou goest
I will follow thee, Humble Mind, and will be thy torment
and thy shame; for I am thy brother, the son of thy




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.           29
mother, and I have had dominion over thee ever since
thou wast born, and now will I bring thee to disgrace in
the presence of thy King."
I perceived then, that when Inbred-Sin became thus
outrageous, Humble Mind trembled exceedingly, neither
had he power for some time to look towards the shining
light. After a while, however, he recovered himself so
far as to recollect the book which Evangelist had given
him. So he plucked it out of his bosom, and read these
words-" 1 find then a law, that, when I would do good,
evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God
after the inward man: but I see another law in my
members, warring against the law of my mind, and
bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in
my members. O wretched man that I am! who shall
deliver me from the body of this death. I thank God,
through Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. vii. 21-25.
When he had read these words, he was comforted;
and crying mightily unto God, he pressed forward, overthrowing Inbred-Sin to clear the way before him. So
he hastened towards the gate, and Inbred-Sin followed
swiftly behind him.
CHAPTER IV.
Now I looked again after Humble Mind; and behold,
he was come unto the gate which is at the entrance of
the Way of Salvation. That gate is cut in a rock hard
as adamant; beyond which I saw the Way of Salvation
walled on each side, and straight as an arrow, sometimes ascending dangerous heights, at other times descending into deep valleys, and passing through dreary
wildernesses, bogs, and quagmires. Nevertheless, the
tendency of that way was, for the most part, upwards,
till at length it reached the utmost boundaries of the
everlasting hills; where the glory of it became too
dazzling for mortal eyes-for " the path of the just is as
the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the
perfect day." Prov. iv. 18.
I saw then, in my dream, that when Humble Mind
came up to the gate, he was so spent by his struggle




30           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
with Inbred-Sin, that he fell upon the step like one fainting, having no power to knock for entrance: nevertheless, the door was speedily opened by a venerable person called Good-Will, who lifted the child from the
ground, and carried him in to his Lord. Then thought
I on these words-" And it shall come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet
speaking, I will hear." Isaiah lxv. 24.
I could not discover in what manner the Lord of the
gate revealed himself unto Humble Mind; for he showeth
himself in various forms unto pilgrims, according to his
own good pleasure, and in the manner which he deemeth
most suitable and profitable to their tempers and conditions. Sometimes he showeth himself crowned with
thorns, with bleeding hands and feet; sometimes he appeareth full of sorrow, and clad with mourning-garments;
and at other times he discovereth himself in the glory
as of the only-begotten of the Father. But in whatever
form it pleaseth him to reveal himself, he is found to be
all lovely, without spot or stain of sin.
So Humble Mind came out from the presence of the
Lord, and I wondered at the change which had passed
upon him. His Lord had caused him to be washed in a
pure fountain of water; and stripping him of his rags,
had clothed him in beautiful garments, even the garments of salvation, washed and made white in the blood
of the Lamb. Moreover, the Lord had set his signet on
the brow of the child, which was an ornament so exceedingly becoming that it made him look like unto the sons
of God. One thing, however, grieved me, which was,
that Inbred-Sin still accompanied the boy; though he
carried it not so imperiously towards him as before, but
conducted himself more modestly, restraining his tongue
and putting on a demurer look.
Then Humble Mind set his face to go forwards; when
I saw that certain servants of the Lord of the gate went
with him a little way, and gave him directions for his
journey. They bade him beware of turning aside, either
to the right or to the left. Moreover, they told him
that he would find many quiet resting-places in the way,
which the Lord of pilgrims had prepared for the reception of his servants. " The first of these," said they,
" are the pleasant pastures and flowery fields belonging
to the shepherd Sincerity, by whom infant pilgrims are
received and fed many days with the fresh milk of the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           31
Word. Next to these sweet fields, and a little farther
on, is the house of the Interpreter, where young pilgrims also receive wholesome instruction and nourishment. Beyond this is the palace called Beautiful, where
certain holy virgins dwell, and where many rare and
excellent things are to be seen. And still farther on
are to be found the sweetValley of Humiliation, where
lilies grow in shadowy places-the house of Mr. Orthodox, in the very town of Vanity-the hills upon which
the shepherds dwell, and which are called Immanuel's
Land-also the lovely land of Beulah-together with
sundry little peaceful valleys and verdant solitudes scattered over the pilgrim's path, where the weary traveller
may obtain sweet refreshment, freely drinking of the
living stream, and gathering honey from the stony rock."
After acquainting Humble Mind with these things, and
giving him their blessing, the servants of his Lord went
back to their Master's house.
I perceived then that Humble Mind went joyfully on
his way, even along the Way of Salvation. Now the
way was exceedingly beautiful, even like a garden enclosed on each side, and shaded with cedar-trees and
lign-aloes; while many fountains of water gushed out
beneath the trees, and ran murmuring along by the wayside. The high-road also was visible in the remote perspective, ascending the blue heights, till, at length, it
was lost in the distant clouds.
So Humble Mind pursued his way, sometimes breaking into songs of praise, sometimes leaping for joy like
a young hart, and sometimes reading in his book.
Thus he passed on for a whole day, being filled with
the love of him whom he had lately seen, even the Saviour that bled for him upon the accursed tree. And
as night approached, he drank of the water of the fountain by the way-side, and laid him down to sleep under the
shadow of the trees till morning-light; when he arose
and pursued his journey, hoping soon to reach the pastures of the shepherd Sincerity, which were then not
half a day's journey before him.
Now all this while, to wit, from the time that Humble
Mind had left the gate till he arose on the second day
of his journey, Inbred-Sin had followed close upon his
steps; but so softly and cautiously, that during the
whole of the first day Humble Mind knew not that he
was there. And herein is often displayed the subtlety




32           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
of Inbred-Sin, in seeming to withdraw himself in seasons
of peculiar consolation, by way of lulling the soul into
a state of security and carelessness. Thus was it with
Humble Mind: during the first day of his pilgrimage,
Inbred-Sin was so quiet, that Humble Mind, trusting he
had taken his leave for ever, was ready to say in his
prosperity, "I shall never be moved: thou, Lord, by
thy favour hast made my mountain to stand strong."
Psalm xxx. 6, 7. But on the second day, I saw that Inbred-Sin became bolder, bestirring himself betimes in
the morning; and not being properly checked at first, he
speedily put an end to all the comfort which the little
pilgrim had lately enjoyed.
Inbred-Sin began his operations by disturbing Humble
Mind while reading his Bible; for the little pilgrim used
to read and meditate upon his holy Book as he walked
along the way. Inbred-Sin at these seasons got close
behind him, and peeping first over one shoulder into the
book, then over the other, he whispered strange words
into his ears, drawing back as quick as lightning whenever Humble Mind turned to discover whence those
whisperings proceeded.  These suggestions were repeated whenever Humble Mind attempted to read; and
I perceived that they generally had some reference to
the passage of Scripture which the boy was perusing.
On such occasions, a poor pilgrim has nothing for his
support, except earnest prayer: Humble Mind did not,
however, fly to this remedy; but, finding that he had
not the same delight in reading as at other times, he
shut up his book, and put it into his bosom.
Upon this, Inbred-Sin became more daring and proceeded to pluck and twitch Humble Mind, as he had done
several times before, when the boy showed an inclination to go forward in the way from which he was anxious to withdraw him.
Now I saw, in my dream, that these pulls and twitches
had been many times repeated before Humble Mind
was aware whence they came. For he had so buoyed
up his mind with the assurance that Inbred-Sin would
not be able to follow him into the King's highway, that
he was for attributing all his unpleasant feelings either
to the malice of Satan who is the declared enemy of the
Prince of pilgrims, or to bodily disorder, or indeed to
any other outward circumstance, rather than to his own
Inbred-Sin, which he supposed had been left on the out



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            33
side of the gate at the head of the way. He was therefore much hurt, and cruelly mortified, on finding that
his struggle with sin was not to end where the work of
grace began-and going on to infer from his late experience that this warfare might probably continue till the
work of grace should be finished at the hour of death,
he was hurried into an agony of mind, crying out in his
distress, " Who shall deliver me from the body of this
death " Rom. vii. 24.
In answer to this, Inbred-Sin, coming forward, began
to plead with Humble Mind; and thus he addressed
him:-" Wherefore, Humble Mind, do you cry out
against me, who am no other than a part of yourself t
Was I not born with you T was I not bred with you.
have I not always slept in your bosom 1 have I not provided you with sports and pleasure from the days of your
infancy until very lately 3 And now will you cast me
aside for ever 1"
"Nay, but," said Humble Mind, "if I separate not
from you, I shall surely perish for ever: for' the wages
of sin is death.' It was you, and such as you, who
crucified the Lord of glory; and I know that nothing
less will content you than my absolute ruin, both of
body and soul."
"Nay," said Inbred-Sin, "you wrong me, Humble
Mind: I am not what you think; I am your friend, your
brother, nay, I am your very self. And would any man,
think you, seek his own ruin T More than this, if I was
evil-inclined in former days, it was because I knew no
better; but I am now changed, and have received a new
nature from the Lord of the gate which is at the head
of the way. Therefore, Humble Mind, you have no
occasion to fear me any longer; I am become a servant
of the High and Mighty One, I have submitted my will
to his, I am anxious to obey his commandments, and am
set upon doing his service. Therefore, do not be afraid,
but treat me as your friend, and take me as the companion of your pilgrimage."
In this manner Inbred-Sin pleaded a long while, and
that with so much importunity, that Humble Mind at
length ceased to argue with him, or to resist him: so
Inbred-Sin took his place by his side as boldly and familiarly as ever.
Now, while I wondered how the little pilgrim would
pursue his course with such a companion, I saw a man
B 3




34           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
come into the King's highway, climbing over the wall,
and with him came his sons, two boys about the age of
Humble Mind.
This man's name was Mr. Lover-of-Novelty, and he
was come to make trial of a pilgrim's life, having been
told that it was a pleasant one. And such indeed it is,
with all its troubles, to those who are introduced to it
by the right way; but to those who do not enter it by
the gate which is at the head of the way, it is neither
agreeable nor profitable.  " I am  the door," saith
Christ, " and he that entereth not by the door into the
sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is
a thief and a robber." John x. 1.
So Mr. Lover-of-Novelty, having entered the King's
highway, presently espied Humble Mind, who was a
little before him; and, calling aloud to him, invited him
to join their company.
Now Humble Mind had no inclination to make any
acquaintance with this man or his children, because he
liked not the manner in which they had entered the
Way of Salvation. Inbred-Sin, however, suffered not
Humble Mind's better judgment to prevail, but insinuated
that Mr. Lover-of-Novelty might be a good pilgrim,
though he conformed not altogether to the ancient rules
set down for pilgrims; and, moreover, he insisted that
Humble Mind should accept his invitation. So he held
him in debate till Mr. Lover-of-Novelty and his sons
came up and joined them.
Then thought I-This Inbred-Sin is a bold one, and,
as the ancient saying is, " Give him an inch, and he will
take an ell." A little while ago, he did not dare to show
his face; and now he is become so bold, and loud, and
vehement, that he must have all things his own way;
and this, too, on the King's ground, and in company with
one of the chosen ones of the Lord. Then I recollected these words-" If they do these things in a green
tree, what shall be done in the dry " Luke xxiii. 31.
It is true, that Humble Mind, being young and inexperienced, could not be supposed to have skill enough
to contend with this child of hell: but it is well known,
that neither age, wisdom, nor experience has ever yet
enabled. any man to overcome his inward corruptions.
He that would conquer Inbred-Sin must contend with
him, not in his own strength, but in the power of the
Holy Spirit; he must watch unto prayer, and go forth




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             35
in the strength of the Lord. God the Holy Spirit hath
power sufficient to overcome and cast out this our inbred
enemy; since it is his peculiar work to purify the heart,
and to set it free from the dominion of sin.
I perceived then that Humble Mind had not gone
far with Mr. Lover-of-Novelty and his sons, before
they came to a little rising ground; from which, just
before them appeared the pastures of the shepherd Sincerity, an exceedingly fair and lovely region, adorned
with groves of tufted trees, shady fountains, and delicate flowers. This place was provided by the Lord of
the way for the reception of young pilgrims; and here
the lambs of the Lord's flock " dwell safely in the wilderness, and sleep in the woods." Ezek. xxxiv. 25.
Now these delightful pastures of the shepherd Sincerity had proved so peculiarly beneficial to many young
pilgrims, that the enemy of their Prince had long looked
upon them with a very evil eye. And not only so; but,
in order to divert the attention of youthful travellers
from that attractive scene, he had planted a garden on
the left-hand, close by the way-side, on that very spot
where these beautiful fields first present themselves to
the view: and behold, he had adorned it with all kinds
of fanciful decorations. He had also opened a door
from it into the King's highway, where he stationed one
Light-Mind, a fair-looking gay damsel, to entice young
pilgrims into his garden.
I saw then, in my dream, that Mr. Lover-of-Novelty
was mightily taken with the appearance of this garden
on the left-hand: and Humble Mind, too, thought it
looked very pretty; for it was ornamented with all manner of gay flowers, together with little pavilions made
of filagree work. So they stopped before the gardengate; when the damsel Light-Mind immediately opened
it, and invited them to enter.
Now I observed that Mr. Lover-of-Novelty and his
sons went in at once; but that Humble Mind made a kind
of stand, and would know of the damsel, who she was t
and whether the garden belonged unto the King. and
wherefore she so pressingly invited him to come in.
To these questions the damsel thus answered:"This garden has been planted here for the advantage
of young pilgrims. This is a place of refreshment and
education. Here all kinds of desirable accomplishments
are taught, and that in a manner the most easy and




36           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
pleasing. We have also in this place all kinds of musical
instruments," added the damsel,  with every other possible device to render study delightful. Only come in,
and you shall speedily be taught every thing which can
make you an agreeable and accomplished pilgrim."
Then answered Humble Mind, " I thank you for your
invitation, but I am upon a journey of life and death.
I am a poor sinner, travelling from the place of my
birth, which was the Valley of Destruction, to the Celestial City."
The damsel then replied, " Wherefore should you be
in such haste. have you not many years before you for
this journey of which you speak. You are but a child;
turn in here, and rest a while, and when you are a little
older, you may proceed with more confidence on your
intended course."
Humble Mind. I know not how many years are before
me, nor at what hour it may please God to require my
soul: but what I most fear is, that, if I once turn knowingly out of the right way, I may never be able to discover it again. For this I have found, that we cannot
turn into the right way when we please, but must wait
for the leadings of the Spirit of God; " For that which
I do, I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but
what I hate, that do I." Rom. vii. 15. Therefore I
dare not come in, lest hereafter, like Esau, I should seek
repentance with tears, and find it not.
Then I saw that Light-Mind laughed, and said, " Who
has filled your head, my son, with these grave conceits t
There is a time for all things: youth is the time for
pleasure, and old age for religion. Methinks it is a pity
that so fine a boy as you are should not be taught every
thing that might enable him to pass well through the
world. Cannot a man serve God without being awkward
and ignorant."
In this manner Light-Mind pleaded and reasoned with
Humble Mind. Neither was Inbred-Sin quiet all this
time; but while the damsel continued urging her request, he was gently drawing Humble Mind towards the
gate of the garden, and whispering in his ear such things
as he thought would add force to her arguments. So
that, at length, through the open persuasions of the
damsel, and the secret influence of Inbred-Sin, Humble
Mind was sufficiently overcome to turn aside and follow
Light-Mind into the garden.




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.             37
Now I remarked that the walks in this garden were
artfully disposed into a labyrinth; so that he who once
set his foot therein could find no passage out again.
Here also, among all kinds of vanities, were seen teachers of every superficial accomplishment, together with
many children and young persons whom Light-Mind had
beguiled from the right way. Then I saw that certain
of these teachers of vanities came and spread forth
their toys before Humble Mind, to wit, pencils and
paints, maps and drawings, pagan poems and fabulous
histories, musical instruments of various kinds, with all
the gaudy fopperies of modern learning. Whereupon
Inbred-Sin insisted that Humble Mind should take possession of these things; which indeed he himself was
so greedily disposed to do, that he filled his pockets and
his bosom therewith, overloading himself in -such a
manner that he dropped the book which Evangelist had
given him among the rubbish of the place, without perceiving that he had lost it.
Immediately upon this, Inbred-Sin gathered strength
and courage; so that, taking Humble Mind by the hand,
he led him along the mazy windings of this garden, still
farther and farther from the Way of Salvation: while
Humble Mind, being puffed up with the fine things he had
gotten, adverted not to the situation in which he was
placed. He continued therefore till towards evening,
strolling about the garden, amusing himself with the
baubles it presented, and playing with the children and
young people who were there assembled.
Now I beheld that, at the back of the garden, there
was a howling wilderness full of wild beasts, which
used to come in the night and commit dreadful ravages
in the place; there being no secure fence or wall between
the garden and the wilderness. So about sunset the
beasts began to howl in a frightful manner; till all who
were in the garden, being filled with consternation, fled
some one way, some another-but there was no place of
security to be found in the whole garden.
Hereupon Humble Mind became sensible of the fault
he had committed in leaving the right way, even the
Way of Salvation. He then looked about for some passage by which he might return: but, alas! he could find
none; and the dark night was coming on apace. At
length I heard that he broke out in angry reproaches




38           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
against Inbred-Sin, which the other as angrily retorted;
so that their words ran very high on both sides.
And first Humble Mind spake. " Oh, child of hell!"
said he, "to what have you now brought me! You
have beguiled me from my straight, my safe, and pleasant
path, into this forbidden place; where I am in danger
every moment of being devoured by wild beasts. Oh,
Inbred-Sin! you will never be content till you have
plunged me, soul and body, into hell."
In answer to this, Inbred-Sin replied, " Am I not a
part of yourself? am I not indeed your own self? How
then can you reproach yourself."
To this Humble Mind answered, " I well know that
you are a part of myself; I know that you were born
with me, and bred with me: and, more than this, I fear
that I shall never get quit of you, till we go down together into the grave."
"Nay, but," said Inbred-Sin, "are not the things
which I have shown you very excellent, and worthy of
the most serious attention V"
Humble Mind. But, if I should gain the whole world,
and lose my own soul, what would it profit me t Matt.
xvi. 26
" As for the welfare of the soul," said Inbred-Sin, " I
am not so much concerned about that."
" But are you not afraid of hell-fire 1" asked Humble
Mind.
Inbred-Sin. I love to indulge my own longings-the
things in this garden please me.
Humble Mind. You are, I see, no better than a brute.
Inbred-Sin. What I am, you are: if I am even a devil
incarnate, you are the same.
Humble Mind answered, " I know that I am exceedingly vile, and altogether filthy, and that no good thing
dwelleth in me: nevertheless I will not submit to your
control; since He who died for me upon the cross intended thereby to deliver me from your dominion. So,
take my defiance."
"We shall soon see which is the stronger," said
Inbred-Sin. So they rushed together; and Inbred-Sin
showed himself mighty in war. There was no beating
him off. Although Humble Mind did his utmost, he
could by no means prevail; because, as I said before,
Inbred-Sin was a stranger to fatigue. He required no
time to take breath or gather strength, but heaped blow




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            39
upon blow, and stroke upon stroke, in such sort, that
Samson himself would have been no match for him;
since what he wanted in strength was more than made
up by his perseverance. They continued struggling
therefore for along while. At length Inbred-Sin, grasping Humble Mind in his arms, and entangling him with
his feet, tripped him up and laid him at his full length on
the ground: by which unlucky fall the poor boy was so
disabled, that he had not power to lift himself up. In
that place therefore he lay all the night, moaning and
crying; while Inbred-Sin stamped upon him with all his
might, triumphantly exulting over him, and whispering
in his ears evil words against the King of pilgrims.
During this sad interval Humble Mind had no power to
pray, being filled with horror at the blasphemous suggestions of his own inbred corruption. Thus he lay all
that night; but the Lord of pilgrims would not suffer
the evil beasts to come near him. " For the Lord will
not cast off for ever: but though he cause grief, yet will
he have compassion according to the multitude of his
mercies. For he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve
the children of men." Lament. iii. 31-33.
CHAPTER V.
Now it was an extraordinary thing, that this same
night, towards dawn of day, the shepherd Sincerity
(the same who has the care of the little ones of our
Lord), dreamed a dream as he lay asleep on his bed.
And in his dream there was presented to his view a fair
white lamb in the jaws of a dreadful wolf, that was just
about to devour him: when lo, a voice from heaven
awakened the shepherd, saying, " Save my lamb."
At this he arose in haste, and taking his crook in his
hand, he went forth in search of him that was in the
power of the wolf. So at break of day he came to the
door of the garden into which Humble Mind had
strayed; and turning in thither, he soon espied the
child lying groaning on the ground. Now the shepherd knew by his white garment and the mark upon his
forehead, that he was one of the lambs of his Lord.




40            THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
Therefore stretching out his staff, and bidding him
take hold thereof, he raised him up, and drew him towards himself. Then taking him by the hand, all trembling as he was, he led him through the winding ways
of the garden towards the King's high-road.
The shepherd was so well known in these parts, that
no one dared to ask him what he did there, or wherefore he meddled with the child. When the shepherd,
however, had passed on a little way, I heard that all the
inhabitants of the garden broke out into loud hissings
and mockings-but Sincerity heeded them not.
Now when the shepherd had brought Humble Mind
to the place where he had dropped his book, causing him
immediately to cast away all the toys and trifles with
which he had loaded himself the day before, he made
him take up his book again. So he led the boy on, till:
he had brought him out upon the King's highway, where
he smartly corrected him with his shepherd's crook;
agreeably to the words of holy writ-" Correct thy
son, and he shall give thee rest; yea, he shall give delight unto thy soul." Prov. xxix. 17. After this the
shepherd addressed him in the following manner.
Shepherd. How has it come to pass, after being so
kindly received by the Lord of pilgrims, after being invested with the white garments of salvation, and sealed
with your Lord's ownsignet: how comes it, I say, that you
have so speedily turned aside from the right way? Have
you so quickly lost the remembrance of your Lord, and
how lovely he appeared in your eyes when you were
first admitted into his presence. How is it, that you
have so soon forgotten your first love?
Then Humble Mind began to weep; and, as he wept,
he thus replied: —" It is my wish to do well; I have no
desire to have any other king than the Saviour Christ.
His ways are ways of-pleasantness, and all his paths
are peace.' Prov. iii. 17. But though I wish to do well,
I find I cannot;' for to will is present with me; but how
to perform that which is good I find not."' Rom. vii. 18.
Shepherd. Can you tell what it is that holds you
back from doing that which you wish to do.
Humble Mind. Yes, sir, it is my Inbred-Sin, the sin
that was born with me, and which I fear I shall never
get quit of, till I go down into the grave. Oh, sir! you
know not what a deceitful, dangerous companion this
Inbred-Sin is.




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.             41
Shepherd. Perhaps I know more of him than you
think, my child; nevertheless, I should be glad to hear
in what way this deceiver has dealt with you.
Humble-Mind. If I were to tell you, sir, all the tricks
and contrivances of this Inbred-Sin it would take me
till sun-set, ay, and all the night too; but if you
please, sir, I will mention some of the chief things,
with which I have to charge him. And first, before
I was effectually called by the Lord (for the Lord
sent several messages to me before I could be persuaded to answer the call), this Inbred-Sin was altogether
my master: and I am shocked on recollecting to what
a state of hardness and sinful desperation he had reduced
me at that time, and what crimes he caused me to
commit. When I was a very little child, I remember
that I loved my father and mother, and that very dearly:
but after they were gone, this Inbred-Sin so hardened
my heart against them, that I heeded no more the commands they had left with me than if I had never received
them: neither had I any wish to follow my dear parents,
or to be joined to them again; and all this through
the instigation of this Inbred-Sin. And more than this
(continued Humble Mind), I was persuaded by this same
Inbred-Sin to go to Mr. Worldly-Prudence, and to forsake
my little sisters, of whom I now know not what has become. But Inbred-Sin, as I before said, exercised an
absolute dominion over me in those days.
Here Humble Mind looked very sorrowful; for he
remembered his sisters, and his heart was greatly moved
for them.
" This Inbred-Sin, my child," said the shepherd, " as
you have found, offereth such violence to the nature of
man, that he often subverts and destroys all natural
affection. He produces hatred between husbands and
wives, brothers and sisters, parents and children; ay,
and such hath been his power, that he has sometimes
induced parents to' sacrifice their sons and their daughters unto devils, shedding innocent blood, even the
blood of their sons and daughters.' Psalm cvi. 37, 38.
But now go on with your account."
I heard then, that Humble Mind informed the shepherd
how Inbred-Sin had led him to neglect the warnings of
Evangelist, to despise the remonstrances of Convictionof-Sin, to throw aside his Bible, yea, and to turn his back
altogether on the Way of Salvation.




42           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
" And, I doubt not," said the shepherd, " but that this
same Inbred-Sin would have you to brave hell-fire itself,
for the sake of half an hour's pleasure in the present
world."
" Oh, sir! the fear of eternal punishment has no
power at all over him; he more than once as much as told
me, that nothing would satisfy him, but my resolving to
lay aside all concern about my soul."
" I could have shown you," said the shepherd, "had I
then been present with you, what were the views and
purposes of this Inbred-Sin: for he is not only the enemy
of God, but he is enmity itself, and his nature can never
undergo a change."
" But I have not told you, sir," said Humble Mind,
" that, troublesome as this Inbred-Sin was before I became a pilgrim, he has been much more so since; nay,
from the first hour that I entered upon this course, he
has been the very torment of my life. He has occasionally made my very existence a burden to me-sometimes pulling me back; sometimes pinching and rending
my veryheart; and thenhanginguponme like a dragupon
a wheel, so that I could scarcely go or stand-at other
times whispering evil words in my ears, arguing and
contending, lying and pleading, without intermissionand lastly, in a furious onset he brought me to the
ground; where he kept me sorely bruised, and not
daring to cry out for help; till you, sir, came in to my
assistance."
The shepherd answered, " Give the glory to God, my
son, and not unto me; for unto him you owe your present deliverance."  He then explained to Humble Mind
the reason why Inbred-Sin had appeared more troublesome to him of late than formerly. " You have now,"
said the shepherd, "by the power of the Holy Ghost,
received a new and spiritual nature, which is directly
contrary to your old nature; and thus a warfare between flesh and spirit is begun within you, which will
continue till your sinful body turns to corruption in the
grave. Formerly, you and Inbred-Sin pulled one way,
and were of one mind. You were then dead in sin, and
had no power to turn to that which is good. But now
you are become a new creature; and this has given rise
to the contest of which you complain:'For the flesh
lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the
flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.            43
that ye cannot do the things that ye would."' Gal.
v. 17.
" I had hoped," said Humble Mind, " that, after obtaining admittance at the gate, and receiving forgiveness of
sins, and being clothed in garments made white in the
blood of the Lamb, I should be freed for ever from the
assaults of this vexatious enemy."
" It is not the will of God," replied the shepherd, " to
deliver his children, while they are in the flesh, from
the importunities of sin. Although he sets them so far
free from the dominion thereof, as to prevent its tyrannizing over them as in former times (Rom. vi. 14.); yet
he leaves their inward corruptions as a thorn in the
flesh, to humble and mortify them; teaching them, by
experience, that they are nothing, and can do nothing,
but must look for salvation to Christ alone."
" But, sir," said Humble Mind, " if sin is no longer to
have dominion over us, how came I lately to meet with
so dreadful an overthrow V"
" Because," said the shepherd, "you had given this
Inbred-Sin a temporary advantage over you, by yielding
unto his deceitful arguments, and forsaking the King's
highway: moreover, you encountered him in your own
strength, without seeking assistance from on high."
I heard then that Humble Mind put several further
questions concerning the manner in which Inbred-Sin
might be best mortified and kept in subjection: to all of
which the shepherd thus concisely answered, " By deep
humility and self-abasement, by prayer for the assistance of the Holy Spirit, and by looking to the cross of
Christ."
Humble Mind, being still anxious to obtain further information from the shepherd, inquired of him wherein
lay the sinfulness of such things as were taught in the
garden to which he had turned aside.
" The things in themselves," answered the shepherd,
"are not actually sinful; but they are rendered so by
their abuse. It is written,' Whether therefore ye eat
or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of
God' (1 Cor. x. 31.): therefore all those elegant arts and
acquirements which are not directed to this end are, to
say the least, dangerous pursuits."
In this manner the shepherd and Humble Mind conversed together as they walked along the Way of Salvation towards the shepherd's abode. In the mean time




44            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Inbred-Sin followed Humble Mind softly and cautiously,
stealing silently along, and, as it were, on tip-toe, yet
close upon the boy's steps, and listening curiously to
what the shepherd said; but he'avoided showing his
face, on account of the shepherd's staff, of which he
was sore afraid.
By this time they had come close upon the pastureground, and a more inviting or lovely prospect my eyes
never beheld. The Way of Salvation passes through
these fields. They are called the fields of holy Peace,
where, as I before said, infant pilgrims are received in
order to be fed with the pure milk of the word, until
they have attained strength to continue their pilgrimage.
At which time, it is strictly required of them all to take
up their cross; to crucify the flesh, with its affections
and lusts; to wrestle against principalities and powers;
and to put on the whole armour of God, that they may
be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Eph. vi.
11-13.
The air of these fields is soft and refreshing, and
Humble Mind was well pleased to see many young children, clothed in white, scattered over the green lawns:
some sporting on the velvet turf; others walking, with
books in their hands, under the shade of the waving
trees; and others sitting apart on the hill-side, or near
the cool fountains, hymning their morning praises: for
as yet it was but early day. Here the larger and stronger
children watched over the little ones with tender love,
while the little ones gave due honour to their elders, all
of them preferring one another; and the weak, and the
humble, and the lowly among them were had in respect
by all their companions. Their garments were pure
and spotless, their complexions fresh and ruddy, and
their eyes as the eyes of young doves.
As soon as the good shepherd appeared, these little
ones came joyfully skipping towards him, like so many
young roes and harts upon the mountains; yet their
love was sweetly mingled with awe; so that when they
came near, they bowed humbly before him and were
silent. Their good shepherd then smiled upon them,
and gave them his morning blessing.
Moreover, I saw that, when the children were gathered
round their shepherd, Humble Mind looked, and behold
Playful and Peace stood in the midst of them. Then
indeed did the young pilgrim forget all the sorrows he




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             45
had endured; and while his heart leaped for joy, he
wept aloud, and ran towards his sisters.
Now Playful and Peace, when they first saw Humble
Mind holding the hand of the shepherd, knew him not
to be their brother, by reason of the number of children
that were gathered around him; but on his coming towards them, they recognized him in a moment, and
hastened to meet him. At this there was a joyful cry
set up among the other children, " This is their brother,
their beloved brother! he is come at last, and has found
his little sisters"-for Playful and Peace had often
spoken of their brother, frequently wishing for his arrival, and often watching for his approach as far as they
could see along the King's highway. And behold, there
was joy through all the little flock, because that Humble
Mind was come: for their shepherd had taught his
young disciples to " rejoice with them that do rejoice,
and to weep with them that weep." Rom. xii. 15. The
shepherd Sincerity also rejoiced with his flock, thanking
God for the lamb that had been lost and was found.
I saw then, in my dream, that the shepherd caused all
the children to sit down upon the grass, giving to each
of them a bowl of sweet milk, with honey and fine
wheaten cakes: so the children received their food
thankfully, and with hands lifted up to heaven.
Now I especially noted Humble Mind and his sisters,
as they sat close together on the green grass. And
behold, Inbred-Sin was skulking behind them, evading
the notice of the good shepherd, but not less busy or
troublesome than if the shepherd had been absent. I
heard him whispering in the ear of one and another of
them; and though they encouraged him not, but, as 1 observed, kept pushing and shaking him off, yet could they
by no means rid themselves of his company. Nothing
could be more absurd and false than the words which he
whispered in their ears; and yet I perceived that he
thereby greatly troubled the peace of their minds. I
will repeat a few of his spiteful whisperings, as a specimen of the whole.
And first, he said to Humble Mind, " So, your sisters,
who are younger than you, have got the start of you,
and have been enjoying sweet peace in these pleasant
fields, while you were tossed about, enduring all manner
of troubles and disquietudes. Your sisters are, certainly
more beloved by the Prince of pilgrims, than you are."




46            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Then shifting his place, he whispered to Playful, " Now
your brother is come, he will rule over you, and will not
let you play in your bower every day, as you used
to do." Then, quick as lightning, he was at Peace's
ear, saying, " See you not that your brother loves Playful better than you' he kissed her first, and now he has
got hold of her hand."  Then again I heard him at
Humble Mind's side, whispering something about certain of the children of the shepherd who were sitting
near him, how much prettier they were than himself,
and how they appeared to despise him, because he was
but newly come. He had something also to say against
the children's breakfast. This was not proper, and that
was not good; your sister's bowl of milk is larger than
yours, and that boy's cake is whiter than yours: and so
he went on. But I was pleased to observe that the
children, through God's grace, gave him at that time no
encouragement.
Now breakfast being finished, the shepherd led the
children into a lovely grove of tall cedar-trees; where,
placing them again around him, and taking the smallest
and most tender of the infants upon his knees, he delivered to them such instructions as their young minds
were capable of receiving. "Look up, my beloved
children," said the good shepherd, " through the opening
boughs of those trees which meet in lofty arches above
your heads; look at the blue sky beyond those white
and shining clouds. Beyond that sky there is a celestial
country, in which the throne of God is placed. God is
One: he is an all-powerful Spirit, who had no beginning,
and shall have no end; of infinite power, wisdom, and
goodness; the maker and preserver of all things both
visible and invisible. In this one God there are three
persons, of one substance, power, and eternity; the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. These three holy
persons are called the Trinity-' There are three that
bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the
Holy Ghost.' 1 John v. 7.'Whosoever denieth the
Son the same hath not the Father.' 1 John ii. 23. And
again,' Whosoever transgresseth, and abideth not in the
doctrine of Christ, hath not God.' 2 John 9.
" The holy angels are glorious spirits, who wait upon
God; they sing his praises, and obey his commands.
At the appointment of God they watch over young children, and preserve them from harm; as it is written in




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           47
the holy gospel-' Take'heed that ye despise not one
of these little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven
their angels do always behold the face of my Father
which is in heaven.' Matt. xviii. 10.
"The angels live in heaven, where they enjoy all the
inconceivable glories of that holy place. And if such
things are written of us in the book of remembrance as
are pleasing in the sight of God, we' shall, in the morning of the resurrection, be received into heaven, there
to dwell for ever with God the Father, God the Son, and
God the Holy Ghost. The devils once were glorious
angels; but they rebelled against God, and were cast
down to hell. And if your names are at the last day
not found in the book of the Lamb which was slain from
the foundation of the world, you will be cast into the
lake of fire, there to dwell with the devil and his angels.
"Therefore, my beloved children," added the good
shepherd, " kneel down with me, and call upon your God;
beseeching him, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, to
have mercy upon you, to deliver you from the influence
of your own evil hearts, and to make you his children
for ever."
So the shepherd knelt upon the grass, with his children all around him; and theyprayed to God that he would
bless them for the sake of Him who died for them upon the
cross, and that he would send his Holy Spirit to dwell
with them and deliver them from the power of their inward corruptions. I saw then that the shepherd took a
harp in his hand; and, while he prayed, the children
accompanied him with one accord: and the burden of
their song was the praises of the Lamb without blemish
and without spot.
Now, while the shepherd was delivering his instructions to the children, and while they prayed and sang
their hymn, I could not but observe the various tricks and
antics of Inbred-Sin, who was in his usual place between Humble Mind and his sisters, but drawn rather
behind them, for fear of the shepherd's eye. There he
sat quietly till the shepherd began to speak; when immediately he began to whisper in the children's ears, at
the same time giving them sundry pushes or sly pulls
to draw their attention to himself. " What's yonder'"
said he; " See there! look at that bird! There comes
a mouse! I hear a cricket! Look at that butterfly!
Iow tall those trees are! I see a bird's nest! Mark




48          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
how the leaves quiver! I hear a dog bark! How fast
that crow flies!"
In this way he ran bn, whispering all manner of impertinences in the ears of the children, and disturbing
them so much, that they could not hear half of the shepherd's discourse: and when they went to prayers, he
began to yawn with all his might, thereby constraining
the children to do the same whether they would or not.
So that I could not help crying out, " There is no end
of the mischievous ways of this Inbred-Sin; he'is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who
can know himV l' Jer. xvii. 9.
But, to leave speaking of this Inbred-Sin for awhile, I
must say that I never heard any sound more sweet in
all my life, than the voices of the little ones singing the
praises of their Redeemer.
So, the hymn and the prayer being finished, the shepherd proceeded to give instructions to his little ones of
a somewhat different kind, and more particularly suited
to their different ages and capacities. He caused the
little ones to repeat certain portions of Scripture which
he had allotted to them as their several tasks, making
the elder children to read certain passages of that holy
book in the original languages in which they were first
delivered to man. And now I perceived that he had
recourse to all the assistance which could be derived
from the works of the ancients: but he used them only
as books of reference, treating them as literary handmaids preferred to wait upon that sacred volume, of
which he never suffered his scholars to lose sight for a
moment.
These duties being fulfilled, this faithful shepherd
called Playful and Peace to him, bidding them take
their brother to the bower which he had given them for
a resting-place during their abode with him; "And
there, my children," said he, as he smiled kindly upon
them, "you may tell each other what things have happened to you since the day of your separation. And
you, the rest of my children," added he, turning to the
others, " go and feed the young birds that were lately
hatched: remember also to take some new milk to the
white fawn whose mother is dead; and forget not to
carry food to the fair hind which yesterday broke her
leg."  Some other little commands to the same purport he gave them: then waving his hand, his little flock




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            49
were soon scattered over the green hills and pastures,
all hastening to fulfil their various duties of love and
kindness; while the good shepherd sat upon the hill
under the shade of the cedar grove, conversing with his'
God in holy meditation, and still watching his scattered
charge as they wandered about the flowery pastures,
lest some enemy should break in, and by any means hurt
one of those unsuspecting little ones
CHAPTER VI.
THEN I looked again after Humble Mind: and behold,
his sisters were leading him towards the bower which
the shepherd had given them. And as they walked
along, they sometimes kissed each other, and sometimes questioned each other concerning the things which
had happened since the day of their parting.
Now I saw, in my dream, that this bower was exceedingly lovely and fresh, shaded from the noonday
sun by the tufted branches of the trees; and there was
a soft bed of spring herbs, on which the little ones were
accustomed to sleep. So the children broke off their
conversation relating to past circumstances, in order to
show their brother such things as they loved in and
near their bower. Peace showed him a little valley
adorned with lilies; and told him that, early in the
morning, while the dew was upon the grass, the young
fawns would come and feed among the lilies.
" Here," said Playful, " you may sit in the heat of the
day, and hear the voice of the turtle-dove (Sol. Song ii.
12); here too are' brooks of water, and fountains, and
depths that spring out of valleys and hills' (Deut. viii.
7); and here are'beds of spices and sweet flowers.'"
Sol. Song v. 13.
Then spake Peace: "Our good shepherd tells us,
that all these things were made by God for the use and
entertainment of those who love him. But there are
more beautiful things than these in heaven; for he
showed me where it is written in my book-' Eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the
VOL. V.-C




50           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for
them that love him.'" 1 Cor. ii. 9.
To this Humble Mind made answer, " 0 my beloved
sister!'let us bless the Lord at all times, and let his
praise be continually in our mouths' (Psalm xxxiv. 1.):
for' as a father pitieth his own children, so hath the
Lord pitied us.'" Psalm ciii. 13.
I beheld then, that the children sat down in their
bower, and related to each other every thing that had
happened to them during their separation. First, Humble Mind gave an account of himself; after which Playful related to her brother the history of her and her
sister's pilgrimage. And thus she spake:
"When Mr. Worldly Prudence had taken you away
from us, sweet brother," said she, " Evangelist came
again to us while we were crying at the door of our
house, bidding us to take our books in our hands, and,
leaving all, to follow him. Now our hearts clung not
to our home, as in days past; for our father was gone,
and our mother was gone, and you, our dear brother,
had also left us: so we followed Evangelist, who brought
us from our own dwelling-place, and set us in the way
where the shining light and the gate of salvation were
directly before us; then bidding us hasten towards that
gate, he departed.
" Now we had not gone far, before we were overtaken by a young woman carrying a very little baby in
her arms, and her steps were turned, like our own,
towards the shining light: so she looked affectionately
at us, and said,' My little ones, whither are you going V'
And when we had answered her, she kindly said,' Come with me, my children, and what little assistance
I can afford you shall be freely given.'
" So, as she hastened on, with her little one in her
arms, certain idle persons passing that way, said to her,'Woman, wherefore are you in such haste V'
"' I am going,' she answered,'to yonder shining light,
to seek admittance there of the Lord of the gate for this
my little boy: for whereas, through the disobedience
of his first father Adam, this my baby is counted worthy
of death, I, his mother, anxiously seek for him the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ, whereby he may be
rendered meet for eternal life.'
"Whereupon these strangers, being enemies of the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            51
Lord, and wishing to trouble the pilgrim, thus answered:' That outward sign of the Lord's acceptance which was
formerly appointed by him and administered by his servants, to wit, Baptism, hath for some time past been
denied to such little ones as thine in that place, through
failure of the ministers of the Lord's ordinances.'
" With that the young woman began to weep, crying
out,' 0 my Father! grant to this child admittance at
thy gate: whether living or dying, make him thy own
child, O my Father! my Father! I ask this inestimable favour at thy hand in my Saviour's adorable
name.'
" So we hastened towards the gate," continued Playful, "where we met with no hinderance: for we were
there most kindly received; after which we were washed
with pure water, and clothed with white garments, and
had the seal of our Lord set in our foreheads. Then
did the mother of this little baby give thanks, and weep
for joy.
" After leaving the gate, we came on our way, Peace
and I, with the young woman and her little baby: and
she talked sweetly to us as we passed along, and was
unto us like our own mother. And in this manner we
went on a day and a half: she from time to time kissing
the little fair one who lay in her arms, and making the
way pleasant with cradle-hymns and songs of praise,
which she sang almost continually as we journeyed
along.
" But behold, as we went on, there came after us a
winged messenger, on whose brow the word Death was
written. At sight of him we began exceedingly to tremble, while the poor woman pressed her baby closer to
her bosom. But the messenger showed her a token,
which was a silver cord broken. And more than this,
he told her that he came from God, and that these
were the words which he had orders to speak in her
ears:' If you love this child you will rejoice, because
he is going to his Father.' John xiv. 28.
" On hearing this she wept bitterly, and delivered her
baby into the messenger's hand, saying,' O God, take
my child, and make him thine own for ever!'
" The little baby smiled, and looked upon his mother,
as she delivered him to the messenger; and 0! how
sweet was his smile! 0! how lovely was his pale face!
C2




52            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
So the messenger of God took away this little fair one,
and we saw him no more."
I perceived then in my dream that Playful's account
was for a time interrupted by her sorrow. After a
while, however, she thus continued her story.
" So we walked on weeping and mourning, till we
came to this place. Here we found the good shepherd,
and to him our loving companion very earnestly commended us, saying,' Kind sir, I beseech you, take care
of these lambs, and feed them with milk till they have
gained strength to continue their journey.' And with
that, kissing us and blessing us, she was about to depart;
when the shepherd asked her, wherefore her countenance was sad, and her eyes red with weeping t
" So she told him all that had befallen her sweet baby:'And now, my little fair one,' said she,' being removed
from me, I cannot but go on my pilgrimage mourning.'
" With that the shepherd rebuked her, yet with kindness; for the water stood in his eyes while he spake-' My daughter,' said he,'despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him:
for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth
every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is
he whom the Father chasteneth not l' Heb. xii. 5-7.
Dost thou well, my daughter,' he added,' to grieve, because thy little son is gone to Him who loved him so
well as to die for him upon the cross' Then drawing
from his pocket a perspective glass, and bidding her put
it to her eye, he bade her look upwards. So she did as
he required.
" Then said the shepherd,' What seest thou P'
" She answered,' I see nothing, sir, by reason of the
tears which dim my sight.'
"' I feared as much,' he replied:' cast away, therefore, this'sorrow of the world which worketh death.'
2 Cor. vii. 10. Wipe away thy tears, and pray to God
for help.' So she wiped away her tears; and kneeling
down with the shepherd, he prayed that the God of all
consolation would comfort her.
"After rising from their knees, the shepherd bade
her put the glass again to her eyes, and look towards
the heavens. So after looking awhile, she put on a
smile of satisfaction.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            53
"'Wherefore smilest thou, my daughter.' said the
shepherd.
"She answered,' For this my son was dead, and is
alive again; he was lost, and is found.' Luke xv. 24.
"Then said the shepherd,' What sayest thou, my
daughter — explain thy words.'
" She replied,' The glass which you gave me, sir, has
brought my baby again to my sight. I have seen my
little fair one! He is without spot or blemish! He is
clothed with beauty and glory such as no tongue can
describe! He is with his Redeemer!   The Lord is
his Shepherd: he will never want. He maketh him to
lie down in green pastures; he leadeth him beside still
waters.' Psalm  xxiii. 1, 2. 0 my baby! my sweet
baby! thou art happy, my child!' As one whom his
mother comforteth, so doth the Lord comfort thee, and
thou art comforted in Zion.' Isaiah lxvi. 13. I will no
longer sorrow as one without hope, but will go on my
pilgrimage rejoicing.' O magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together. I sought the Lord,
and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.'
Psalm xxxiv. 3, 4.
" At this the shepherd was greatly pleased; and he
said,' God be with thee, my daughter!' But before she
went forward, he gave her the glass, and bade her keep
it for her comfort by the way, and rather lose her life
than part with it. Now this glass was called Faith;
and she received it thankfully.
" She then said to us,'My dear children, fare ye
well! God in his mercy grant that we may meet in that
happy country whither my baby is gone before, and
where he dwells with the children of the King.' Then
again bidding us farewell, with many tears, she took
the road to the Celestial City; and by this time she has
doubtless proceeded very far on her way. Thus she
departed, and left us in this pleasant place, where we
have ever since been very happy, though often wishing
for you, my dear brother; but now you are with us our
joy is complete." So they kissed each other again, and
seemed to be filled anew with joy.
About this time, putting his pipe to his mouth, the
shepherd Sincerity played a sweet air; which sounding
over the green pastures and rising grounds, the little
ones soon knew the call, and came running, together at
the signal. I saw then that, having first given thanks,




54            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
he distributed to each child a portion of such sweet and
nourishing food as was most suitable to their tender
ages. After which, having joined in blessing God for this
seasonable repast, he made them sit down round about
him upon the grass, while he thus held discourse with
them. They were seated on a hill-side which faced the
west, lovely and airy, and sweetly overlooking the
flowery vale below. Tahe shepherd bade his children
look at the sun, which having run his daily course, was
going to set; while many golden and purple clouds
rested on the hills. "Look, my little ones," said he,
" look at that glorious sun-it is a mighty world of light
and heat. It is fixed in the heavens by the same great
God who formed you all. Many worlds like this which
we inhabit take their yearly courses round that sun,
receiving from it light and warmth. These worlds are
the work of our Redeemer Jesus Christ, by whom God
made them all. The sun will soon disappear behind
yonder hills: when we shall see in the heavens millions
of stars. Those stars are themselves supposed to be
suns, which shine on other worlds, which the same God
created, and over which the same God is the universal
Ruler. In those worlds, no doubt, there are creatures
more numerous than the sands of the sea. God is the
Father of them all; and such of them as submit to
his will are happy everywhere; while they who rebel
against him are everywhere miserable. By God the
Son'were all things created that are in heaven, and
that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be
thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers; all
things were created by him and for him: and he is
before all things, and by him all things consist.' Col. i.
16, 17.
" In the Book of Psalms these words are addressed
to the Son of God;' Of old hast thou laid the foundations of the earth: and the heavens are the work of
thy hands. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure;
yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed;
but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end.'
Psalm cii. 25-27.
"But although the mighty God who made these
myriads of worlds hath the constant rule and charge of
them all, yet his fatherly care extends to the minutest of
his creatures. He numbers every hair of your heads




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            55
and clothes the lilies of the field with all their beauty.
There is not a little flower, nor a tender herb, nor leaf
of the forest, but it is the workmanship of his hand. At
his command each little blossom unfolds its enamelled
leaves, and sheds sweet odours through the air. Wherefore if God so clothe the grass of the field, how much
more shall he take care of you, my little children 
Matt. vi. 30. Love him therefore with all your heart,
and serve him in the way that he has commanded in his
Holy Book; so shall you be safe from evil of every kind.
For the Lord is your compassionate Father, and he loves
you even more than your mothers ever did; as it is
written-' Can a woman forget her sucking child, that
she should not have compassion on the son of her womb.
yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.' " Isaiah
xlix. 15.
Now the good, shepherd took his harp in his hand,
while his children accompanied him in a song of praise.
They then knelt down upon the grass, and joined him
in an evening prayer; which being finished, they all betook themselves to rest in their several bowers: and I
saw that an aged woman, whose name was Careful,
watched over the little ones.
CHAPTER VII.
Now, perhaps, some curiosity may be excited to know
how Inbred-Sin was employed all this time; since he
seems to have allowed the young ones to enjoy a little
quiet. But the truth is, that finding himself in a place
where he had so many enemies, and seeing that the
shepherd was always ready to put the children on their
guard against him, he judged it best to keep back and be
quiet for a season, that the children, being freed from
his'importunities, might be thrown off their guard: that
so, ceasing to watch, they might the more easily be surprised, and led astray. Accordingly, I saw that although
he had followed the children all the afternoon close upon
their steps, he had refrained from meddling with them,
even so much as by a whisper. At night also he came
with them to their bower, where stretching himself upon




56            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
the grass, he pretended to fall fast asleep; though he
was, in reality, as wide awake, and as full of mischief, as
it was possible for him to be. So Humble Mind and his
sisters seeing Inbred-Sin asleep, as they thought, they
rejoiced, sitting down and chatting together by the light
of the moon, till they felt the need of repose; when being tired with the duties and amusements of the day, they
laid themselves down and slept soundly.
Now, hard by the shepherd Sincerity's pleasant fields,
the enemy of pilgrims, to wit, that old serpent the devil,
had planted an orchard, to the intent that the little pilgrims might be tempted by the beauty of its forbidden
fruit to leave their safe and peaceful abodes. This
orchard was situated in a valley, where it might be seen
from many parts of the pasture-ground; and in fruittime it presented so very fair and inviting an appearance, as to have become the means of drawing aside
several young pilgrims, to their great harm and distress.
Playful and Peace had often seen this orchard at a
distance, and had admired the beautiful red colour of
the apples; but being warned by the shepherd, they had
never ventured a step towards it. Nevertheless, it was
with the fruit of this orchard that Inbred-Sin resolved to
beguile the children. And now I will tell you how he
went to work. He first began with Playful, as being the
gayest and least thoughtful of the three children, and
consequently the most liable to be drawn aside by vain
fancies.  As soon as he perceived that she was asleep,
up he got, and with a soft stealing pace crept close to
her side: where quietly seating himself, he began to
stir up false and sinful imaginations within her, by setting forth in secret whispers the deliciousness of the
fruit that grew in the enemy's orchard. I saw also
that, while the tempter sat at her ear, she frequently
started and turned about, as if in trouble, yea, and talked
in her sleep. So the night wore away, till at length the
dawn began to appear.
The little ones were awakened by the notes of the
lark; when Humble Mind and Peace got up light and
gay, while Playful appeared heavy, and full of thought.
And behold, Inbred-Sin kept close by her side wherever
she moved, lodging vain thoughts in her mind concerning the fruit, and causing her to think upon it with pleasure. Thus he worked upon her mind all the day; and
in the evening, when the shepherd gave the children




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             57
leave to play, Inbred-Sin put it into Playful's heart to
lead her brother and sister to that side of the pastureground, from whence the orchard and its fair fruit might
be seen. Thence I perceived that she pointed out the
orchard to Humble Mind, and bade him  look at the
beautiful colour of the fruit. So Humble Mind looked
till his mouth watered, and little Peace did the same.
Upon which Inbred-Sin, seeing that he had got them at
an advantage, came boldly forward, and put in his word,
saying that he thought it very hard indeed that the children should be kept back from such desirable fruit. He
further took upon him to call the shepherd by some hard
names in the children's ears; to which he added, that
the shepherd's Master himself dealt too hardly with little
pilgrims, in denying them such pleasures as were peculiarly adapted to their time of life. The children therefore stood looking at the orchard till sunset; when they
went back to their bower-but so troubled in mind that
they could not pray. So they betook themselves to
sleep without going to prayer.
Now I saw, in my dream, that, while the children
slept, Inbred-Sin, having so far obtained influence over
them, grew bolder still; till at length he ventured to
call in the Wicked One, to wit, Satan, to his assistance.
For this Wicked One is ever ready to obey the call of
Inbred-Sin, and is always waiting, as one may say, at the
door of the heart, prepared to come in at the slightest
invitation. So he came forward, and a most frightful
creature he was, such as my eyes never before beheld:
but his figure admits of no description. He eyed the
children for awhile, as they lay sleeping, just as a wolf
would contemplate so many sleeping lambs; after which
he began to use his enchantments. And first, he caused
a thick darkness to be shed over the bower, so that the
light of the moon and the stars was quite extinguished
thereby; he then caused to arise before the children a
representation of the forbidden fruit, after which they
lusted; and the vision was exceedingly beautiful and
tempting, insomuch that it surpassed the reality by
many degrees. And now the children lay as in a trance;
nevertheless, the eyes of their mind were opened, and
fixed upon the representation of the fruit.
Thus were the imaginations of these poor children so
excessively inflamed through the arts of sin and Satan,
C3




58            THE INFANT9S PROGRESS.
that at day-dawn up they got, and regarding neitherth
fear of hell, nor the hope of heaven, nor yet the expectation of punishment in this present life, away they posted
towards the orchard, being violently urged forward by Inbred-Sin. So they ran hastily over the pasture-ground,
till they came to a little lane, which opening out of the
King's highway, led directly to the orchard. Down this
lane ran the children as fast as they could go-when
Playful, who was the first of them, having got into the
orchard, suddenly felt her foot caught in a trap; that
orchard being thickly set with traps and snares of various
sorts. Upon this she cried aloud, but Humble Mind could
not then help her; for in his haste he had fallen over-head
into a ditch-nor was Peace in any better plight, she
having plunged into a bog or quagmire, where the more
she strove to get out, the deeper she sunk-so that all
the three being in a terrible fright, their cries were very
pitiful.
Now, while they were in this sad state, they heard a
growling near them, like that of a wild beast. This was
their " adversary the devil, who goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." 1 Pet. v. 8.
So as he came towards them, the poor children screamed
aloud, repeatedly praying to their Redeemer, and calling
upon his servant the shepherd! Neither did they pay
any heed to Inbred-Sin, who was for stifling their cries
by assuring them that neither their Redeemer nor their
shepherd would hearken to them, after the great sin they
had committed. The lion then came on apace: but at
the very moment when Playful believed that he was
about to seize upon her, the voice of the shepherd was
heard, who forthwith came running into the orchard
with his staff in his hand; and behold his staff bore the
semblance of the cross. But the lion being on his
own ground, neither fled at the voice of the shepherd,
nor feared the sight of his staff, as he would have done
had he been on the King's highway; but came on growling and roaring to attack the shepherd himself. Then
I saw that a dreadful battle followed between the shepherd and the lion, which lasted for a considerable time;
insomuch that the poor shepherd was covered with
blood; nevertheless, the servant of the Lord at length
prevailed, through the power of him who gave up his
life to destroy the works of the devil. Whereupon the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            59
lion fled growling away; while the good shepherd, having set the children at liberty, removed them with speed
from the enemy's ground.
Now I saw, in my dream, that when they were come
into a safe place, to wit, into the King's pasture-grounds
from which they had strayed, the children fell at the
shepherd's feet and kissed them, shedding many tears,
and humbling themselves in the very dust before him.
Then spake Humble Mind, "' We remember our ways,
and all our doings, wherein we have been defiled; and
we loathe ourselves in our own sight for all the evils
that we have committed' (Ezek. xx. 43.); and more
especially we hate ourselves for having caused you,
dear sir, those grievous wounds; nor can we ever cease
to detest these our vile and sinful inclinations, which
have brought such distress upon:e our kindest earthly
friend."
*" Remember, my son," said the shepherd, " that these
your sins crucified the Lord of glory: it was for these
he bled and died upon the accursed tree; yea, it was for
your sakes that he fought with this same lion, there
being none to help him: on these accounts, therefore,
you ought to loathe your sins, and to humble yourself in
dust and ashes before God."
Immediately I saw that the shepherd went to a certain tree which grew thereabout, and taking some of the
leaves thereof, he bound them upon his wounds: when
behold, the pain was assuaged, and the flowing of the
blood was stayed. The shepherd then drank of the
spring of water which ran sparkling by the way-side,
giving also thereof unto the children, who were greatly
refreshed thereby in their fainting condition. After
which the shepherd gave thanks, saying, " All my fresh
springs are in thee." Psalm lxxxvii. 7. Which done,
he would know of the children by what means they had
been tempted to the commission of so great a sin.
So Humble Mind and Playful told him how they had
been enticed by Inbred-Sin to commit the great offence
of which they had been guilty: and they lamented, at
the same time, the exceeding sinfulness and vileness of
their own hearts.
I heard then that the shepherd took occasion to speak
more largely and fully than he had ever before done
upon the nature of Inbred-Sin, that deadly enemy and
tormentor of pilgrims. And first, he declared unto them




60          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
that the place or seat of this Inbred-Sin is the heart of
man. " He dwells," said the shepherd, " in the heart of
every one of the children of Adam, and hath always
done so, excepting only in the case of Jesus Christ,
who, though the son of man,'was yet without sin.'
Heb. iv. 15. Every man, before he turns to God," continued the shepherd, "is under the entire rule and
governance of Inbred-Sin, which actuates all his members, possesses his whole heart, and influences his whole
conduct; so that, without help from God, no one can do
that which is right and good. But when men have once
turned to the living God," proceeded the shepherd,
" when they have received forgiveness of sins, through
the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Spirit of
God enters into their hearts, Inbred-Sin no longer rules
over them  with absolute power: because the Spirit
opposeth him, and counteracts his devices. Nevertheless, this our enemy, which lurks within our hearts,
ceaseth not still to strive for the mastery, though he be
sensibly weakened by the prevailing power of the Spirit
of God. And since he cannot domineer, and carry
it so high as in times past, he has recourse to all manner
of stratagems and contrivances in order to regain his
lost power, and to check the workings of the Holy
Spirit. In these circumstances he promises all kinds
of pleasures and rewards to such as will obey him, in
like manner as he promised you the fruit of yonder
orchard; he withdraws men from  their duties, especially from prayer and holy meditation; puffing up pilgrims with high thoughts of themselves, or persuading
them to rest contented with outward forms and shows
of religion.
"But," added the shepherd, "time would fail to enumerate all the frauds and artifices of this Inbred-Sin.
Remember, my children, what we have suffered this
day, and entreat your heavenly Father for grace to watch
against that dreadful enemy who has his hiding-place
within you: and fight not with him my children, in your
own strength, but in the strength of the Lord; for' God
resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.
Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil,
and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he
will draw nigh to you.'" James iv. 6-8. Then the
shepherd kissed Humble Mind and his sisters, and
brought them back unto his fold.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            61
Now I saw, in my dream, that the three little pilgrims
remained many days with the shepherd, under whose
fatherly care they grew in wisdom and in stature; and
the blessing of God was upon them. At length it was
signified to the shepherd, by the almighty Ruler of all
things, that Humble Mind and his sisters should proceed
on their pilgrimage. So, with many tears, they bade
adieu to their little companions, and their pleasant bower,
and the sweet pastures in which they had been so delightfully entertained. After which the good shepherd,
tenderly bidding them farewell, and giving them a note
to the Interpreter, whose house was not far distant, set
them forward on their journey.
CHAPTER VIII.
THEN I looked after the children, and saw them wiping
away the tears which ran down their cheeks. So they
walked on their way, even the Way of Salvation; and
Inbred-Sin was with them. But for a while they took
no notice of him, not even making the least reply, good
or bad, to any of his suggestions. At length, coming
to a rising ground, towards evening, they saw before
them two houses at a little distance, one to the righthand, and the other to the left; and behold, the way
parted in this place, one path leading to the house on
the right, and the other to that on the left. Now the
children knew that one of these houses must be Mr.
Interpreter's; but whose the other was, they could
not tell.
Moreover I perceived, in my dream, that, while they
were at a stand, knowing not which way to take, they
saw a man, with two little boys, coming over the fields
on the left-hand; upon whom when Humble Mind had
looked for a while, he knew them to be Mr. Lover-ofNovelty and his sons. " Here," said Humble Mind, " is
one coming whom I have met with before; but we
shall get no good of him. He set me wrong on that
occasion; and if we hearken to him, he will do so
again."
Then spake Inbred-Sin, "Nevertheless, as you are




62           THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
now at a loss, it would be as well to hear what this gentleman can say upon the subject: perhaps he may know
this part of the country better than you do, and may be
able to point out which of these two houses is the one
belonging to Mr. Interpreter."
" No, no," said Humble Mind, " I have had enough of
his counsels; I will have no more of them."
Inbred-Sin therefore finding that he could not persuade
Humble Mind to do as he would have him, fell to whispering in Playful's ear; and so greatly did he gain upon
her, that she said to her brother, " Do as you please,
Humble Mind; but, for my part, I shall stay in this
place till the good gentleman comes up, that I may ask
his advice: for I do not see, although you are older
than I am, that I should always be entirely governed by
you."'
" That's right," said Inbred-Sin; " that is well said;
that is showing a proper spirit." Then stepping over to
Humble Mind, he whispered in his ear, "Do you stand
like a tame fool, and allow your sister, who is so much
your inferior, to address you after this fashion? Have
you no courage — no spirit in you l"
In this strain he went on for some time; but Humble
mind, being inwardly assisted by the Spirit of God,
would by no means hearken to him. Upon which the
tempter faced about again, and put Playful upon provoking her brother more, to the intent that he might be
urged to speak harshly to her.
So she went on challenging him to answer, saying,
" Why, this gentleman must be a foolish person indeed,
if he is not fit to give advice to such children as we are.
Surely, brother, you do not think yourself wiser than
all the world beside! You cannot certainly be much of
a pilgrim, if you hold so high an opinion of yourself as
that comes to." And in this manner she went on provoking her brother, being instigated thereto by InbredSin, till Mr. Lover-of-Novelty and his sons came up.
Then spake Mr. Lover-of-Novelty, " Well met once
again, brother pilgrim! and where have you been since
we parted company 1 and who are these little ones with
you."
When Humble Mind had answered these questions,
Mr. Lover-of-Novelty further inquired, whither he was
going   " "If," said he, " you are going to the house of
the Interpreter, I shall have great pleasure in accompany



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            63
ing you; for I am going thither myself to place these
my little boys for a while under his care, being informed
that he has many curious and profitable things to exhibit."
"But, sir," said Playful, "seeing before us two
houses, with two ways both straight and even, we are
quite at a loss how to proceed. Can you, sir, inform us
which of those two houses belongs to the Interpreter V'
" I am very glad," said Mr. Lover-of-Novelty, " that I
happened to come up just at this time, to help you out
of your trouble. If you will hearken to me, I will
inform you why you see two, houses here instead of
only one, as you expected; and I will direct you to
which of these houses it will be advisable for you to
go. You must know that yonder house which is on
the right-hand, is the house of the old Interpreter. It
was built by the Lord of pilgrims for the refreshment
of his people; and the task allotted to the master
of the house, to wit, the Interpreter, was to expound
the Bible to pilgrims; for which purpose he was allowed to take similes and examples from all the creatures under heaven. That house has stood where it
now stands from the time of the apostles: and in his
younger days the Interpreter was a man of such rare
and excellent speech, that it was delightful to hear him
converse. But of late he is become so superannuated
and full of wild fantasies, that he speaks of the Bible
as containing a hidden as well as a plain meaning; pretending, it is thought, to see more in it than ever was
intended. On this account few pilgrims at present repair to his house; suspecting that he is either mad, or
sunk into a state of hopeless dotage. So that now
travellers, for the most part, frequent the house of the
new Interpreter, which is that to the left; where they
not only find good board and lodging, but receive also
the most wholesome instructions; the new Interpreter
very properly maintaining, like a man of sound judgment, that the Bible has no meaning but the plain
straight-forward one. To this last house, therefore,
my children, I am anxious to lead you: so, come forward; for night draws on apace."
Now I saw that Playful and Peace were willing to
accompany Mr. Lover-of-Novelty; for they understood
not the real purport of what he had been saying; and
Inbred-Sin was all on tip-toe to follow him. But Hum



64              THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
ble Mind, remembering the trouble he had fallen into
once before by hearkening to Mr. Lover-of-Novelty, bethought himself of consulting his book: so plucking it
out of his bosom, and opening it, he read these words
-" 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. But let him ask in faith, nothing
wavering." James i. 5, 6. " Here," said Humble Mind,
"I have found what I wanted;" then kneeling down and
praying, he said, " 0 God, give us now wisdom and
knowledge; for we are little children, and foolishness
is bound up in our hearts." Prov. xxii. 15.
Upon this I saw that one more beautiful than rubies,
and more precious than silver or choice gold, came towards them, and thus addressed them:-" I love them
that love me; and those that seek me early shall find
me. I lead in the way of righteousness, in the midst
of the paths of judgment. Now, therefore, follow me,
my children: for blessed are they that keep my ways."
Prov. viii. 17, 20, 32.
Now Humble Mind knew that this was Wisdom, and
that she was from on high. At sight of her, Mr. Loverof-Novelty and his sons made off as fast as they could,
while Inbred-Sin slunk behind; leaving the children to
follow her without interruption. So they went with
her rejoicing; and she led them to the house on the
right, to wit, the dwelling of the old Interpreter.
As the little pilgrims drew nearer to Mr. Interpreter's
house, it appeared to them more and more pleasant and
desirable. It was a large old-fashioned house, standing
in a fruitful and flourishing garden enclosed with a wall
and containing great choice of fruits and flowers. Here
were also olive-yards, and fig-trees, and vineyards, with
blooming orchards, and little cottages, and fields covered
with bees. In short, all things seemed to flourish under
the hand of Mr. Interpreter, who took great delight in
the culture of his grounds, and would plant no seeds
therein but what were of the right sort.
Mr. Interpreter was walking forth to meditate at
evening-tide, when he perceived Wisdom leading the
little pilgrims towards his house. Upon which he
hastened to. meet them; and receiving the children at
her hand, he led them into the house. He conducted
them first into a large parlour, where bidding them to
be seated, he immediately entered into discourse with




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.              65
them. " Welcome, my little children," he said, "w elcome to this house; and here I hope, through the good
pleasure of God, that ye may abide for a season, to the
end that I may show you such things as may be profitable to you." Then I heard that he called to his servants, and ordered them to prepare such tender meats
as were best adapted to the state of his guests, saying
at the sae time,  " Ye have hitherto been fed with
milk, my children, but now I shall set before you a little
solid food; for every one that useth milk is a babe."
Heb. v. 13.
So Humble Mind thanked him for his kindness, and
added, that they should rejoice to tarry awhile with hinm
if God permitted.
"Wiell, my children," answered the Interpreter, " I
trust that it will so please him: and now, while you are
waiting for your evening meal, I must request you to
relate unto me such things as have happened to you
both before and since you became pilgrims."
The little ones therefore immediately began their
histories: and the Interpreter spake not until they had
finished.
Now when they had done speaking, he said unto them,
"My dear children, give glory to God,'who hath delivered you from the power of darkness, and hath translated you into the kingdom of his dear Son; in whom
you have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.' Col. i. 13, 14. For ye were born in sin,
landwere by nature the children of wrath, even as
others' (Eph. ii. 3.): but now are ye made the children
of grace. While you yet dwelt in the land of your nativity, you trod the ways of sin and death: and not you
only, my children, but all the sons of Adam do the same,
being by nature utterly depraved; as it is written-' Who
can bring a clean thing out of an uaclean?' Job xiv. 4.' What is man, that he should be clean? and he which is
born of a woman, that he should be righteous' Job xv.
14. These are the words of that book which cannot
lie; which also saith in another place,' without holiness
no man shall see the Lord.' Heb. xii. 14
"This being the unhappy state of mankind, all mien
being sinners by nature, and the wages of sin being death
-according to that which is written,'Behold, all souls
are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of
the son is mine: the soul that sinneth, it shall die"
(Ezek. xviii. 4.) —such being as I said, the unhappy




66           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
state of all mankind, the Lord Jesus Christ gave himself
for them, that he might endure the punishment which
they had incurred.
" This blessed Saviour, the Son of God, who is equal
with God, and one with God, took man's nature upon
him in the womb of the blessed Virgin; so that two
whole and perfect natures, the divine and the human,
were joined together in one person. And this holy person was crucified, in order to reconcile offending man
to his offended God, actually dying on our account, and
descending into the grave; from whence he afterward
triumphantly arose, and ascended up into heaven, where
he is now seated at the right hand of God. Moreover,
at his departure, he left with his disciples this gracious
command-' Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Ghost.' Matt. xxviii. 19.
" This is He who opened that door of salvation
through which you were admitted to the divine favour,
and received into the congregation of Christ's flock.
The assurance that your sins are forgiven you, and that
you are become the adopted children of God, was signed
and sealed upon you at that time; and the promise of
the Holy Spirit, which proceedeth from the Father and
the Son, and who is also equal with God and one with
God, was also granted to you at that time."
I heard then that the children lamented in the presence of the Interpreter, the many hinderances and drawbacks which they experienced continually in their pilgrimage, from  the secret enemy they carried about
them, even their own inbred corruptions. " Why, sir,"
said Playful, "it was but this very day that I was
secretly inclined to turn out of the right way; on which
occasion I was influenced, though I knew I was doing
wrong, to speak many reproachful words to my brother."
" Sir," said Humble Mind, " our Inbred-Sin seldom
allows us any peace; and if he seems to be quiet for a
while, he is sure at that very time to be contriving further mischief: so that when we think ourselves most
secure from his attacks, he is then most to be feared."
" Very true, my children," answered the Interpreter:
"it is not when we are on the watch, and up in arms, as
it were, against our sins, that they are most to be
feared; but rather when they cry,' Peace, peace,' and
persuade us to think that all is well within."




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.             67
"Oh!" said little Peace, "what would I give for a
complete deliverance from this tormentor!"
" My child," answered the Interpreter, " after this life
thou shalt behold the face of thy Redeemer in righteousness; and awaking in his likeness, thou shalt be
satisfied. Psalm xvii. 15. Then, and not till then, thou
wilt be completely freed from this inbred enemy."
The Interpreter then proceeded to point out to the children how, from the earliest times, this Inbred-Sin had
made the saints of God to go groaning on their pilgrimage.
" It was this Inbred-Sin," said he, "which made the
patriarch Noah to drink of the wine, and be drunken in
his tent (Gen. ix. 21.); and it was he which brought
righteous Lot to commit the same crime in his old age.
Abraham also, and Isaac, and Jacob, went mourning all
their days, by reason of this same homebred evil. It
was this Inbred-Sin which caused King David to cry
out, in his anguish,' 0 Lord, rebuke me not in thy
wrath; neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure. For
thine arrows stick fast in me, and thy hand presseth me
sore. There is no soundness in my flesh because of
thine anger; neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin. For mine iniquities are gone over
mine head; as an heavy burden they are too heavy for
me. My wounds stink, and are corrupt, because of my
foolishness. I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly;
I go mourning all the day long. For my loins are filled
with a loathsome disease; and there is no soundness
in my flesh.' Psalm xxxviii. 1-7. And finally, it was
this Inbred-Sin which rendered it necessary to our salvation, that God himself should take our nature upon
him, and bleed and die upon the accursed tree.
Now I saw, in my dream, that when the Interpreter
had ended his discourse, and supper was finished, he
prayed and sang with his family; after which he charged
one of the damsels of the house to see that the children were lodged in a comfortable chamber. Moreover, I heard him give commandment to the servants of
the family, to take good heed to the children, and provide them with all such things as might be needful for
them while they remained in that place; taking special
care that their white garments should contract no stain.
And I observed that the servants received their master's
orders gladly; for they loved young children.




68            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
CHAPTER IX.
Now I saw in my dream that the children were up
betimes in the morning; the Interpreter having promised to take them into his garden at an early hour. Inbred-Sin, as usual, rose with them; and while they
waited the coming of the Interpreter, he began prating
after a prodigious rate, and with as much pertness as
ever. " And so," said he, " you are very comfortably
situated! You are not here treated like babies, as you
were at the shepherd's, and fed with milk; but you are
fed with meat, which is certainly more suitable to your
present state. For you are not now mere babes in
Christ, as some would have you think; you have had
a great deal of teaching, and have acquired much experience; so that you know more than many grown
persons. There are many grown people," continued
he, " who, though they seem wise, are very foolish, still
seeking after trifles, and taking no care of their souls:
but it is otherwise with you. What incessant thought
and care do you take about everlasting things!"
In this manner Inbred-Sin went on chattering; while
the children, one and all, seemed to listen to his flattering words with great satisfaction. Humble Mind smiled,
and looked self-sufficient; and Playful assumed an air
of much complacency. When the Interpreter, however, appeared, Inbred-Sin drew behind, and the children
began to recollect themselves a little. So the Interpreter took them into his garden.
Now the Interpreter's garden, which was enclosed with
a high wall, was watered with fountains of living water
and streams from the hills. A south wind generally
blew through this garden, and made the spices thereof
to flow. The flowers now appeared everywhere in the
green turf; the little birds were singing among the trees,
and the voice of the turtle was heard all around. Sol.
Song ii. 12.
The children wondered at the beauty of this garden,
and inquired of the Interpreter, by what means he had
rendered it so exceedingly lovely.
" This garden," replied the Interpreter, " was once




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.              69
a wilderness; but after being planted with care, and
watered with streams from the hills, the blessing of God
came upon it. Man can cultivate the ground, and sow
the seed, but God alone giveth the increase. For he
maketh' the wilderness and the solitary place to be glad;
he causeth the desert to rejoice, and blossom as the
rose.' " Isaiah xxxv. 1.
I saw then that one of the gardeners came to the Interpreter, bringing him a sprig of myrtle, to which rosebuds were fastened with thorns.*
When Playful saw it she was pleased: so the Interpreter bade the gardener to give it her. She had not
however admired it long, before the buds began to fade,
and their withering leaves to fall off. Then said the Interpreter, " Wherefore do those rosebuds fade so soon,
my child!"
" I suppose," answered she, " because they have been
parted from the branch to which they belonged, and
fastened to another."
" True, my child," replied the Interpreter: " had those
rosebuds remained on their parent stem, they would not
thus have withered and fallen away, but would have unfolded their fragrant blossoms, and flourished as the
rose of Sharon. Can you discover the meaning of this
emblem. How do you apply this to yourselves l"
"I think," said Humble Mind, "I can answer this
question."
" Do so, my son," said the Interpreter.
Then spake Humble Mind, " Our Saviour is the rosetree, and we, his children, are the rosebuds. While we
remain with him we flourish; but, parted from him, we
fall away, wither, and die."
" Well spoken, my boy," said the Interpreter.  " The
Lord saith,' I am the true vine. If a man abide not in
me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and
men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they
are burned.'" John xv. 1, 6.
I perceived then that the Interpreter showed the children a lily growing among thorns. (Sol. Song ii. 2.)
And the children requested him to explain the meaning
of that exhibition.
"The lily," replied the Interpreter, "represents a
* The Hindoostaunee mode of making nosegays, by fixing the
blossoms of one flower upon the stalk of another with thorns.




70            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Christian in this present evil world; for as his Lord and
Master was not of this world, so neither is he; and if
the world hated the Master, will it not also hate the servant'   John xv. 19, 20.  After this the Interpreter
conducted the children back to the house; where, after
prayers, they all sat down to breakfast.
Now about noon the Interpreter again led the children
abroad. Inbred-Sin also went with them; but being
awed by the presence of the Interpreter, he cautiously
kept himself for a while in the background. So as they
walked through his fields and orchards, the Interpreter
bade them look towards the east, where he showed them
a milk-white lamb, lovely and fair, feeding on the side
of a green hill. Around this lamb were many flocks of
goats and sheep; but they were all spotted and speckled,
and not one of them so lovely as this white lamb.
Little Peace appeared to be quite ravished with the
beauty of this spotless creature; and she said, " O that
he were mine!"
With that the old Interpreter smiled, and said, " He
shall be thine, my little one, and thou shalt be his; and
he shall take thee,' and lead thee unto living fountains
of water."' Rev. vii. 17.
" When, sir V" said Peace.
"When God pleaseth, my child," replied the Interpreter.
Humble Mind then said, " Wherefore, sir, do I see
that lamb white as milk, while all the rest of the flock
have some spot or blemish V"
The Interpreter answered, " That lamb, my son, is an
emblem of Christ, the Lamb of God, without spot or
blemish, who by the sacrifice of himself once made,
hath taken away the sins of the world. He, you observe, is without stain-but you see the rest of the flock
to be spotted and speckled; this is to signify, that,
although we are baptized and born again in Christ, yet
we offend in many things; and if we say that we have
no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us."
(See 15th Article of the Church.)
Now it came to pass, that while Humble Mind and
Peace were talking to the Interpreter about this fair
lamb which was without spot or blemish, Inbred-Sin
drew himself close up to Playful's side, and began whispering foolish conceits into her ear: at which, when
she had listened awhile, she began to smile; till, from
smiling. she broke out into a downright loud laugh.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             71
Her brother and sister looked hard at her; while the
Interpreter said, "Methinks, my little maid, that you
are very much diverted. Will you discover to us the
cause of your mirth, that we too may laugh with you V"
Now Playful, being ashamed to tell the Interpreter
what she laughed at, made no answer.
Then whispered Inbred-Sin in her ear, " Say that you
did not laugh."
So she did as Inbred-Sin advised her, and said to the
Interpreter, " Sir, I did not laugh."
Then being greatly grieved, the Interpreter replied,
"Oh, my daughter! let not the evil of your heart lead
you to the great sin of lying. When you have done
amiss, why should you increase the evil, by adding to it
a lie 1 Know you not what is said of lying in the Holy
Book —' Ye shall not lie one to another.' Lev. xix. 11.'The mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped.'
Psalm  lxiii.  1.'All liars shall have their part in the
lake which burneth with fire and brimstone."'  Rev.
xxi. 8.
At this Playful was covered with confusion, and begged
of God to forgive her: so Inbred-Sin was rebuked, and
drew away from Playful for a season. But I saw him,
shortly after, very busy at Humble Mind's ear, whispering therein flattering words, and telling him how much
more wisely he had behaved than his sister, conducting
himself with all possible decency and modesty, while
she was giggling and tittering, like a foolish child.Whereupon Humble Mind began to be puffed up, as I
perceived by the pertness of his manner and a certain
air of conceit which were not usual with him.
The Interpreter then having pardoned Playful, and
taken her by the hand again, led the children on till they
came to a vine-tree, fair and flourishing, enclosed with
a paling. From this tree certain persons who had the
care thereof were gathering clusters of grapes, and distributing to such as came to ask for them. I observed
also that some of those who ministered before the vine
were agreeable persons, possessing all the charms of
external beauty and gracefulness of manner; while
others were ill-favoured and unpolished. The Interpreter then called for grapes to be given the children:
when behold, one of the ill-favoured persons went up to
the tree, and gathered a few clusters for the children.
So Playful and Peace received them thankfully: but




72            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Humble Mind, being put upon it by Inbred-Sin, declined
taking them, informing the Interpreter, that he would
rather receive his grapes from the hands of one of the
more sightly persons.
When the Interpreter heard this, he was displeased,
and was about to order Humble Mind's portion to be
carried back, remarking that he was not in a fit state to
receive any thing; but Humble Mind instantly confessing his sin, the Interpreter forgave him.
As they continued their walk, the Interpreter took
occasion to explain unto them what they had just seen,
and wherefore he was so angry with Humble Mind for
refusing the grapes from that ill-favoured person. " The
vine which you saw," said the Interpreter, " is an emblem of our Saviour Jesus Christ (John xv.); and they
who were gathering and distributing the grapes are his
servants, who minister of the true vine unto the people.
Now although in the church of Christ and among the
true servants of the Lord, some are endowed with brilliant gifts and shining talents, while others are, as it
were, without form or comeliness, possessing neither
the charms of eloquence nor the graces of manner-but
since all of them minister of the same vine in simplicity
and truth, we ought to use their ministry thankfully,
both in hearing the word of God, and in receiving the
sacraments; remembering that the' Lord is no respecter
of persons, but in every nation he that feareth him and
worketh righteousness is accepted with him.' Acts x.
34, 35. (See 26th Article of the Church.) Wherefore.
my son, you greatly erred, when you listened to the
whisperings of Inbred-Sin, who filled you with pride,
and caused you to refuse the fruit of the Lord's vine,
because you liked not the person employed to administer it. In this manner, very often," said the Interpreter, " do men refuse to go to church, because the
minister pleases them not; and children, from the same
proud spirit, refuse to receive holy instruction, because
their teacher, perchance, hits not their fancies."
When Humble Mind heard these words of the Interpreter, he was ashamed-so passing on they came into
the street of a little village. Now behold, at the door
of a certain cottage there sat a knot of old women very
busily spinning; and as they turned their wheels, they
talked one with another. And behold their discourse
was of the faults and failures of their neighbours; so




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            73
that not an individual was mentioned, to whom some
fault was not imputed.
Then said the Interpreter to the children, after they
had passed on a little way, " Do you think that those old
women spake the truth, when they imputed to each of
their neighbours some particular fault?"
Yes," said Humble Mind, "because we all have
faults, and are none of us without sin."
The Interpreter answered, "True, my son. Keep
this therefore everin your mind, that, since we are all
born in sin; yea, and even after our regeneration, fall
very far short of the glory of God; it becometh us, in a
kind and brotherly manner, rather to point out to one
another the way of amendment, than to condemn and
ridicule each other in absence.' Therefore thou art inexcusable, 0 man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for
wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest, doest the same things.'"
Rom. ii. 1.
I saw then that, going a little further, they came to a
house, where, by the buzzing sound of many young ones
conning their tasks, they perceived that a school was
kept. So the children stood still to hearken.
"Here," said the Interpreter, "dwells a schoolmaster,
to whom I send all the children who occasionally sojourn
with me. He is indeed a strict schoolmaster; but the
rules of his school are so good, that if any one can keep
them from his youth up, he is sure of salvation, and need
go no further for it. But this venerable instructer hath
this particularity, that if any one go contrary to the least
of his commandments, it is the same thing with him as
if the guilty person had offended against them all. He
counts such a one a transgressor; and though he lets
him remain in his school for instruction, he holds out to
him no hope of reward."
" Surely, sir," said Peace, " he must be a very hard
master! I should be much afraid of him."
The Interpreter replied, "This schoolmaster's name
is Law; and it is written,'Whosoever shall keep the
whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of
all."' James ii. 10.
Then said Playful, " Who then can be saved V"
Interpreter. By the deeds of the law none can be
saved. Rom. iii. 20.
"Sister," said Humble Mind, "have you forgotten
VOL. V.-D




74           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
how often we have been told, that we cannot possibly
be saved by any good which we ourselves can do V"
Now I saw that Inbred-Sin was very busy whispering
in Playful's ear; and behold he was filling her with vainglorious conceits; so, after hearkening to his whisperings, she answered her brother accordingly. "Yes,"
said she, "the shepherd used often to tell us that we
could do nothing well, and that there is no good in any
person. But 1 am sure I have seen some good children,
as well as some good men and women. Some days
you are good, and some days I am good: and I think,
if Mr. Interpreterwould let me try a little while, I could
keep all the rules of this school, be they ever so strict."
Humble Mind was surprised, when he heard his sister
boasting in this manner, and little Peace looked hard at
her: but the Interpreter wondered not; for he knew
all the ways of Inbred-Sin, and how he influences mankind to commit all manner of follies, even while they
"speak great swelling words of vanity." 2 Pet. ii. 18.
So, without making any answer, he led the children into
the school-room; where sat the schoolmaster Law at
his desk, with his scholars about him.
Now the schoolmaster's brow was stern; yet withal
he had a comely person, and his features were so well
proportioned, that they who feared him most could not
but look upon him with admiration. I saw then that the
Interpreter requested him to show the rules of his school
to Humble Mind and his sisters. When he pointed out
two tables of stone, on which they were written; four
on one table, and six on the other-and 1 perceived that
all the books used in the school were but explanations
of these rules.
Then Mr. Interpreter said unto the schoolmaster,
"Declare unto us, sir, how many of all the children of
Adam, who have received instruction from you, have
been able to keep your rules."
To which the schoolmaster replied, "I have had millions, and tens of millions of mankind under my charge,
Mr. Interpreter; but never had I more than one scholar
who was perfectly obedient to me. He was one without a fellow; he was absolutely without fault-yea,
without spot or stain."
"I know him well," said little Peace; "he was the
Lamb without spot."
The Interpreter then looked at Playful, and, behold




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            75
she blushed; for she was ashamed to think of the boast
that she had made. Whereupon she rebuked Inbred-Sin
who had suggested it to her, insomuch that he drew behind, and kept himself quiet for awhile, perceiving that
the children had no mind to hearken to him just thenfor he was one who watched his opportunities.
After this the Interpreter spake thus: "I would have
you to come, my dear children, for a few hours every
day, while you remain with me, to study under this good
master: for he will teach you to what extent you are
sinners, and how far ye have fallen from all righteousness; which they are totally unacquainted with who,
having never studied the righteous law of God, are filled
with a conceit of their own innocence, even while living
in all manner of sin. But this excellent master will
make you to know the plague of your own hearts, to
the end that you may the more speedily apply to him
who alone can heal them."
The children then walked back to the Interpreter's
house; and from that time they went, day by day, for a
few hours to the school of Law. And behold, the schoolmaster caused the two little girls to work the laws of
the school with their needles upon pieces of satin, while
he ordered Humble Mind to copy them on vellum; which
having finished, they received their master's directions
to bind them upon their hearts.
CHAPTER X.
Now I saw, in my dream, that the time was come
when the little pilgrims must leave the house of the Interpreter, and proceed on their journey: so the Interpreter bade the children to be ready at day-break on the
morrow, saying that he himself would set them on their
way. Accordingly, having prepared all things the night
before, and taken an affectionate leave of such of the
family as had shown them kindness, they were ready
to depart before dawn of day: and Inbred-Sin, I perceived, was ready also to bear them company, though,
it may well be imagined, not on their invitation.
On coming out of the room where they had slept,
D2




76           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
behold, the Interpreter stood at the house-door, holding
in his hands three little vessels of gold with their covers,
having chains by which to hang them up, all curiously
wrought, and very pretty. Of these golden vessels the
Interpreter gave one to each of the little ones, bidding
them fasten them by the chains to their girdles. So the
children received them gladly, and would know of him
their proper use.
-" We will speak of this," said the Interpreter," as we
walk by the way."
Now the hour was so early that the morning light
had hardly dawned in the east: but the little ones
walked on cheerfully, having the Interpreter for their
guide. And as they walked, their guide discoursed with
them thus.
Interpreter. My children, you have a long journey
before you, and many difficulties to overcome, ere you
reach the Celestial City: hinderances from the enemy of
souls, to wit the devil; hinderances from mankind; and
more than all, daily, hourly hinderances from the sin that
dwelleth in you, which ruleth in your members, and
which warreth against your souls. Have you considered whether you have strength sufficient for this
journey 1 The shepherd Sincerity will not be with you,
to feed you with milk as heretofore; neither shall I be
near you, to administer to your wants. The time has
come when you are no longer to enjoy the stated
assistance of your fellow Christians, as heretofore. You
must now walk on your way with very little support
from man, and encounter many dangers without human
help. Tell me, therefore, my little tender ones, how do
you expect to be sustained on this journey?
I saw then that the children were surprised and
grieved at the words of the Interpreter; looking this way
and that way, and not knowing what to answer.
At length Inbred-Sin whispered in Humble Mind's ear
what he should answer; when Humble Mind spake to
this effect: " We have been abundantly provided for, in
your house, sir, of late; and I think we may go upon the
strength of that meat a long time. We have also some
dried fruits with a few biscuits in our bags, which we
received out of your store-room; and these we can eat
when we feel ourselves hungry."
Then I saw that the Interpreter sighed, and said, " My
poor child, you say,' I am rich and increased with goods,




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            77
and have need of nothing; and know not that you are
wretched, and miserable, andpoor, and blind, and naked. "
Rev. iii. 17.
At this, beginning to'be frightened, the children all
cried out, " What then must we do? Where shall we
find bread to keep up our strength T Surely we shall die
by the way, and shall never reach Mount Zion!"
The Interpreter then replied, " In the Holy Book it is
written,' They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their
strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;
they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk,
and not faint.' Isaiah xl. 31. And again,' When I am
weak, then am,I strong.'" 2 Cor. xii. 10.
"Sir," said Humble Mind, " I remember these words,
but I understand them not."
"By these words we learn," said the Interpreter,
"that strength and power to do well and to walk
uprightly in our heavenly course must be daily sought
from God in sincere and earnest prayer. And God will
assuredly hear our prayer, and give us the strength of
the eagle, which alone, of all the birds of the air, can
soar on high in the face of the sun. But before we can
properly seek strength from God,.we must know our
own weakness, and cease altogether to trust in ourselves."  Then I saw that the Interpreter knelt down,
and with him the little pilgrims: and behold, he prayed:
and the words of his prayer were, " Lord, give us day
by day our daily bread."
On rising from prayer, he bade the children look upon
the ground. And behold, upon the face of the ground
there lay a small white thing, small as the hoar-frost,
and the taste thereof was very sweet.
"This is manna!" exclaimed Humble Mind. Upon
which the children were much delighted; and the Interpreter bade them hasten to fill their little golden
vessels with the manna which God had given them, that
they might eat thereof and refresh themselves on their
journey. The children therefore made haste: and it
was well they did so; for when the sun arose, all the
manna which was left upon the ground shortly melted
away.
Then cried Humble Mind, "I see that we shall be
satisfied with bread, and shall want no good thing."
And the children rejoiced.
" Remember then," said the Interpreter, "that Christ




78           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
is'the living bread which came down from heaven.'
John vi. 51. If ye feed on him, if ye seek him day by
day in prayer, ye shall receive strength, and shall'be
strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might' (Eph.
vi, 10);'yea, out of weakness you shall be made strong'
(Heb. xi. 34);' andnone shallbe weary nor stumble among
you.'" Isaiah v. 27.
Now by this time, the sun being pretty high, the Interpreter was minded to return to his house. So he
kissed the little ones; and bidding them  hold fast the
book which Evangelist had given them, he exhorted
them carefully to seek, day by day, the bread of life
from heaven. After which he put into their hands a
letter to be delivered to the damsels at the palace
Beautiful, which is the dwelling of the Christian Virtues: and thus, bidding them God-speed, he went back
to)his house; while the little ones proceeded along the
Way of Salvation.
In a short time I looked again after the children: and
behold, they preserved an even course all that day,
keeping Inbred-Sin under subjection, and refreshing
themselves with the manna out of their golden cups.
At night, coming to a place where there were much
grass and many palm-trees, there they lay down to sleep
-and Inbred-Sin was with them. And while they slept
he was up and about, according to his custom, now
perching by the side of one, and then of another, and
busily whispering in their ears.
What would come of all this whispering I could not
imagine; though I shrewdly suspected that it could tend
to no good. So, before day-dawn, Humble Mind awaking
called aloud to his sisters to arise and fill their pots with,
manna; but Inbred-Sin had so overcome them with the
spirit of sinful sloth, that when Humble Mind called
them they would not arise. Instead of this, they persuaded their brother to sleep a little longer, saying that
they had manna enough left in their golden vessels for
that day's use: upon which they all turned round and
slept again. On awaking the second time, it was broad
day, and they found themselves very hungry. Whereupon they looked into their pots for the manna which
had been left the night before; but behold, it stank, and
had bred worms; insomuch that they were forced to
throw it away and to wash the vessels. They therefore




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            79
began their day's journey fasting, and went sauntering
along, as persons do when they are weak with hunger.
Now I saw that they had not proceeded far before
they came to a place where a miry lane came up unto
the King's highway, where there was a ladder set for
climbing the separating wall. Then said Inbred-Sin,
" Let us ascend that ladder, and look over the wall."
"For what purpose d" said Humble Mind.
"Just to see what is on the other side," answered Inbred-Sin. "We will only just look about, and then go
on our journey."
" There cannot be much harm in just looking, to be
sure," said Humble Mind.
So up the ladder they all climbed, and stood looking
over the wall down the miry lane, which was shaded on
each side with bushes of bramble and wild thorn. And
behold, in a kind of bottom, at the end of the lane
(which was very short), they saw one groping and grubbing in the ground for earth nuts.
When this man observed the children peeping over
the wall, he invited them to come down to him, saying,
" Here are some excellent earth nuts; and, if you are
hungry, you may here eat and be satisfied."
" Let us go," said Inbred-Sin; "it is but little out of
our way."
The children therefore went over the wall, and running
down the lane, they began eagerly to grub up the ground
for earth nuts, while Inbred-Sin, gayly crowipg and
clapping his sides, maliciously splashed the mud and
mire of the lane over all their white garments.
Now, while they were in this bemired and evil condition, groping up to their elbows in the dirt with this
stranger, whose name was Filthy-Curiosity, behold, one
came behind them, and laid sorely on their backs with a
scourge. Upon which they jumped up, and behold, it
was the schoolmaster Law; at sight of whom FilthyCuriosity fled, and Inbred-Sin hid himself behind the
children. So the little ones stood trembling and quaking
before their old master, filled with shame and confusion at their unseemly condition.
Then spake the schoolmaster, " What do you here t
and why have you thus defiled your garments through
the persuasions of this Filthy- Curiosity? Know you not
these words —' Behold, what manner of love the Father
hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons
of God! therefore the world knoweth us not, because




80           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
it knew him not. Beloved, now are we the sons of
God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but
we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like
him; for we shall see him as he is. And every man that
hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is
pure.'  1 John iii. 1-3.
To all this the children had not one word to offer, by
way of excuse; whereupon their schoolmaster reproved
them again, and laid their sin in order before them; ay,
and more than this, he corrected them severely too,
insomuch that the blood ran down their backs amid
many cries of sorrow and remorse. After which he
led them back into the right way: and behold, they were
sore distressed; for he pressed hard upon them.
So they ran forward till they came to a rising ground;
and behold, just in the midst of the way before them
stood a cross-the very cross of our Lord-to which his
holy hands and feet were nailed; and upon which he
poured out his soul an offering for sin. This is the
cross to which all sinners must come for pardon, who
hope to enter the kingdom of heaven. Now the glory
of God shone upon this cross, and a divine light surrounded it.
At the sight of this cross the hearts of the children
were gladdened; because they understood that here
they should find refuge from him that smote them. But
Inbred-Sin disturbed their joy: for while the schoolmaster Law drove them forward, he stepped in between
them and the cross, and by casting large stones in their
way, made them stumble as they ran. So that, through
the terrors of the law on the one hand, and the resistance
of Inbred-Sin on the other, they were reduced to a
miserable plight; which at length constrained Humble
Mind to cry out to Inbred-Sin, " Wherefore, 0 thou tormentor, dost thou harass us thus t"
To whom Inbred-Sin replied, " What! will you dare to
appear before the cross of the Blessed and Holy One
all unclean and filthy as you are T In such a case you
will assuredly be cast forth into everlasting misery!"
Then were the children so much alarmed, that they
began to beseech their old master to have patience with
them. " Q, sir!" said they, " allow us at least time to
wash ourselves, and make ourselves clean, before we
draw nigh unto the presence of our Lord."
But he answered them thus, " This suggestion is of




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             81
the devil:' For though thou wash thee with nitre, and
take thee much soap, yet thine iniquity is marked before
me, saith the Lord God.' Jer. ii. 22.' Go to your Father
and say unto him,'Father, we have sinned against
heaven, and before thee, and are no more worthy to be
called thy children.' " Luke xv. 18, 19.
Thus the "law was their schoolmaster to bring them
unto Christ." Gal. iii. 24. So they came unto the foot
of the cross, and there prostrating themselves in the dust
"they sought the Lord, and he heard them, and delivered
them from all their fears. They looked unto him, and
were lightened; and their faces were not ashamed."
Psalm xxxiv. 4, 5. For the Lord was graciously pleased
to show them mercy, as they lay crying all night at the
foot of the cross, and embracing it with their little arms;
after which, towards morning, they fell into a sweet
sleep. Moreover, while they slept the Lord caused a
precious balsam to distil from the holy cross; which
secretly falling upon them, suddenly healed all the
bruises they had received, and cleansed their polluted
garments from every stain.
The children then awoke from their sleep rejoicing;
and rising up, they praised God together: when perceiving that the manna lay thickly scattered upon the
ground thereabout, they gathered thereof and filled their
golden vessels, eating at the same time till they were
satisfied. This done they proceeded on their course with
joyful hearts; and never did I see Inbred-Sin more cast
down or inert than he was all that day. This however
did not hold long; for while the children slept at night,
he showed himself as brisk as ever: and on the morning
appearing, when they should have been gathering manna
for the day, he put them upon plucking certain curiously
coloured flowers which grew  thereabout-by which
means they wasted their time till the rising sun had
melted all the manna away.
So the children passed on, yet not so cheerfully as the
day before, but with heavy steps, loitering, and lingering,
and talking idlyastheywent. And behold Inbred-Sinwas
very busy among them, diverting their attention from time
to time, with one trifle or another, till the day was far
spent. Now towards evening, they perceived before them
an exceedingly.high hill which was called the hill Difficulty: The road totheCelestial City passes directly over
this hill; and at the top of it stands the palace called
D 3




82           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Beautiful, where-dwell those three fair sisters, Prudence,
Piety, and Charity, together with other wise and holy
damsels, of whom mention is made in the histories of
all such pilgrims as have travelled this way.. Now I saw that, having gazed for a while at the lofty
hill before them, the children began to murmur and
complain; and especially after Inbred-Sin had described
the labour and pain it would cost them to ascend it.
They stood still therefore for a time; considering what
they should do. At length Inbred-Sin espying a pleasant
grassy lane, which put itself into the highway just at the
foot of the mountain. and which seemed to wind round
it, he persuaded them to take that road. So being overcome by the entreaties of Inbred-Sin they made towards
the lane, and came to it just about dusk.
This green lane was soft to the feet, and it was
bordered on each side with sweet-scented shrubs and
flowers. It was called Idle.Lane, and led to the house
and gardens of a certain woman named Indulgence; one
who has the training of many children, and who has
enticed many young pilgrims from the Way of Salvation.
This Indulgence is one of the daughters of the Evil One,
and through her means many have been conducted down
to hell; for she pampereth the flesh, and taketh part
with the sin that dwelleth in us.
I looked therefore, and behold, the children went
sauntering down the lane, the very air of which has a
tendency to produce drowsiness and inactivity. And
behold, the lane turned and turned, till, before it was
totally dark, thelittle pilgrims found that they had quite
turned their backs upon the hill: for the rays of the sun
continued to illuminate the top of the' hill some time
after the lower lands were covered with darkness.
Then I saw that, when the children perceived that they
were getting farther and farther from the mountain,
they began to be frightened; whereupon Humble Mind
cried out, " We have turned our backs upon the Way of
Salvation and have got into unknown paths; we have
done amiss in wandering hither, and it would be our
wisest course to return without delay."
Then spake Inbred-Sin, " How can you return tonight. is it not dark T and are you not weary T-it will
now certainly be best to go on to the house which is right
before us; where having lodged for the night, we may
in the morning return to the King's highway."




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            83
The children therefore followed Inbred-Sin, who undertook to lead the way. Then I began to think-Is it
not strange, that these children should let this Inbred-Sin
lead them aside again, after having so often and so sorely
smarted for following his counsels — although they are so
thoroughly acquainted with his vileness — although they
have lately spoken so prudently and wisely concerning him — although they frequently lament his power
over them, and that with so much anguish, as sometimes
almost to wish for death to rid them of his tyranny.and lastly, although they know whence assistance may
be had to resist him?  But then I thought again-Why
do I wonder that this deceiver should have power so
often to prevail against these little children, when I
recollect the actual transgressions into which the most
eminent saints of old time have been drawn by him T
Truly this indwelling sin is so wonderfully powerful and
armed with so subtile a poison, that it will bring leantiess on the unguarded souls of men even amid all the
precious means of growth and fruitfulness.
Now I saw, in my dream, that the children were come
to the gate of a garden in which stood the house of Indulgence; and the gate being open, they entered- without hesitation. And as they passed through the garden,.
although it was nearly dark, they could perceive that it
abounded with flowers and fruits. But the fruit of that
garden was not of a salutary sort; moreover it grew in
the midst of many weeds and wild shrubs; for there was
no care taken either to prune the shrubs or to clean the
ground.
The pilgrims then passed on to the house, which was
very spacious, but, like the garden, in bad repair; and
knocking at the door, it was speedily opened by a
damsel called Thoughtless, who welcomed the little pilgrims to the house of her mistress, the lady Indulgence.
So she made them  come in, and led them through an
ample hall, where lay scattered upon the floor all manner of toys, such as tops, marbles, whips, coaches, wax
babies, and every kind of plaything that could well be
imagined. From the hall they passed into a large parlour, supplied with every description of convenient furniture, where sat Mrs. Indulgence herself. Now there
was something in her appearance which pleased the
children much at the first glance; nevertheless she was
much bloated,, and her dress, though costly, was yet neg



84          T'PE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Jligent and slovenly. This lady received the children
with many blandishments, and would know of them,
whence they came l
To this inquiry Humble Mind made answer; and
when he had done speaking, Mrs. Indulgence thus replied. First, she blamed those who had put it into their
heads to go on pilgrimage,. observing that children were
little harmless creatures, in whom there was no natural
depravity. Afterwhich she had something to say against
the shepherd Sincerity, and stillmore against the Interpreter; while as to the schoolmaster Law, she scrupled
not to call him a cruel tyrant. Moreover, she added,
that as no child could possibly climb up the hill Difficulty,
they could not do better than abide in her house till
they should reach a maturer age, " when," said she,
" you may, if you please, continue your pilgrimage."
Now, when Humble Mind knew not what answer to.
make, Inbred-Sin suggested that he should not only thank
Mrs. Indulgence for her kind offer, but also express his
willingness to accept it. Which he accordingly did;
when Playful and Peace agreeing thereto, it was immediately determined that they should remain for a season at Mrs. Indulgence's house.
Then I saw, in my dream:, that Mrs. Indulgence rang
a bell; upon which her old housekeeper, named Fondness, came into the room, and received her orders to,
prepare supper and beds for the little strangers. These
orders were very punctually obeyed, nor was it long before the cloth was laid, and the supper served up;.
whereat the little guests seemed to be mightily pleased 
the table being covered with all manner of delicacies,
and more especially with such sweet things as children
love.
So they all sat down to supper, with Inbred-Sin among
them; and never did I observe Inbred-Sin more troublesome than he was at Mrs. Indulgence's table. First, he
put the children upon eating of etery dish at the table,
till their stomachs were quite full and uneasy: after
which he engaged Playful in scolding Peace, and Hum-.
ble Mind in rebuking Playful. Then when wine was set
upon the table, Inbred-Sin would have them to partake
of that also; which brought upon them so great a heaviness, that, on retiring to their chamber, they went to
sleep without prayer. But while they were asleep, Inbred-Sin was uncommonly wakeful and active; for he




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             85
was whispering in their ears all the night.. Moreover,
he admitted the Evil One among them, as he had done
before at the shepherd Sincerity's, who went to work
as aforetime with his enchantments, beguiling the
imaginations of the children with vain and unholy
visions. And in these visions he was especially careful to represent those servants and ministers of Christ,
under whose charge the little pilgrims had formerly
been placed, as hard and cruel masters, tyrannising over
young children, and denying them every pleasure befitting their age.
Soon after rising in the morning, the children came
again into the presence of Indulgence, who, when she
had feasted them with all manner of delicacies, gave
them leave to amuse themselves as they pleased till
dinner-time. So they strolled forth into the garden,
and Inbred-Sin went with them.
Now I saw in my dream that, when they had tired
themselves with running about from place to place,
they sat down, and fell into discourse upon their present situation. And first,, Humble Mind said, " I should
like very well to remain here all my days; but then, I
am afraid."
"And wherefore are you afraid, brother V" said Playful.
"Because," answered Humble Mind, " we have forsaken the Lord and his ways, to satisfy our sinful lusts,.
through the instigation of our own evil hearts."
I perceived then that, after Humble Mind had thus
spoken, Inbred-Sin began to rage and storm among them
in a wonderful manner. For he knew that he had the
children now at a double advantage: first, because they
had forsaken the King's way, and were in the enemy's
grounds; and secondly, because they had given away
to him for some time past, indulging him in all his demands, so that he had acquired an unusual ascendency
over them. He therefore ventured to speak his whole
mind. " It is my pleasure," said he, " that you stay in
this place; and here I shall expect you'to grant all my
demands, and satisfy all my desires."
"Nay but," said Humble Mind, tremblingly, "we
shall surely lose our souls if we remain here."
" I care not for your souls," replied Inbred-Sin, " neither do I fear God; but I will, at all hazards, please
myself."




86            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Humble Mind then attempted to reason with him; but
Inbred-Sin refused to hear him: neither would he listen
to any thing which Playful or Peace could say, but put
them all to silence with his imperious ragings.. Insomuch that they ceased to oppose him; upon which he
became perfectly good-humoured, and proceeded to
jest with the young people. But his jestings were
always of such a description as are never convenient;
nevertheless, he succeeded in making the children laugh
heartily, which I was greatly grieved to see.
Thus the little pilgrims remained awhile in the house
of Indulgence, under the dominion of Inbred-Sin. And
behold, they were entangled in the snares of the enemy,
neither had they any power to deliver themselves.
Their bodies were pampered with luxurious living, and
their, days passed away in idleness. Moreover, they
were surrounded with all manner of playthings and
toys: yet were they very unhappy, by reason of the sin
which dwelt in them. For Inbred-Sin meddled more
and more with them every day: insomuch that pride,
and selfishness, and malice, and envy, successively exercised a complete dominion over them.
Then they remembered the days that were past, and
wished it were with them as formerly; nevertheless,
Inbred-Sin suffered them not to call upon the Lord.
Whereupon I began to fear that these little ones would
be utterly lost; not remembering the faithfulness of
Him who had called them by his grace. I Thess. v. 24.
CHAPTER XI.
Now it was a custom, and had been so, as I found, from
time immemorial, for such of the Lord's servants as
were stationed along the way for the reception and assistance of pilgrims, to hold communication with each
other, by letter, concerning the affairs of pilgrims: by
which means all the pilgrims on the road were well
known in all those places, and a vigilant watch was
maintained, lest any of them should fall into the hands
of the enemy.
In consequence of this established rule, the damsels




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             87
at the palace Beautiful having about this time received
a letter from the Interpreter, giving them notice that
certain little pilgrims were upon the road, they sent
forth a faithful servant, called Discipline, to meet them,
and bring them up the hill Difficulty. Discipline therefore set forth, and sought the children up and down.
At length, receiving information that they were in Mrs.
Indulgence's house, he went immediately thither, and
demanded of her, how she dared to detain those chosen
little ones under her unholy roof.
At this Indulgence trembled, well knowing that Discipline came not without authority; so she delivered up
the children into his hands.
Then Discipline spake sternly to them, and asked
them what they did there. Moreover, he took his rod
and corrected them; after which he drove them before
him into the right way. Neither did he spare them till
he had urged them almost to the top of the hill Difficulty; and it was wonderful to observe how he caused
the children to exert themselves. At first, indeed, they
cried and complained piteously; but as they ascended
higher and higher, they moved on with so much briskness, that. although Discipline followed them up close
behind, yet he forbore to use his scourge as he had
done; till at last I perceived tliat, instead of employing
the rod, he encouraged them to proceed by the kindest
words he could use.
The sun was about to set when they came within
view of the palace Beautiful: nevertheless, the loveliness of the place was plainly to be discerned, while the
freshness and sweetness of the mountain air produced
a very reviving effect upon the weary little travellers.
Now I saw that there were lions chained on each
side of the way which led to the palace. But these
creatures took no notice of the pilgrims as they passed,
though the children trembled at the sight of them, and
looked very pale.
So Discipline led them up to the gate of the palace:
where I saw that the children turned to offer him their
united thanks for having brought them, to that place,
and for all the assistance with which he had favoured
them. Nay, I perceived that they kissed the hand
which held the rod of correction, yea, and the very
rod itself. And herein were the words of the wise man
verified: " Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child;




88           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him."
Prov. xxii. 15.
Upon this Discipline smiled, and said, " I am the servant of the Most High, and have been employed by him
to bring many pilgrims to this place. But without the
aid of his Holy Spirit I can accomplish nothing: give,
therefore, the glory to God. For such is the condition
of man, since the fall of Adam, that he has no power
of himself to come to this abode of the Virtues, nay,
nor even so much as to desire to do so, without God's
help." (See 10th Article of the Church.)
So after ringing the bell, behold, the gate was presently opened by Mr. Watchful, the porter.  Now the
old porter smiled on observing the youthful pilgrims
before his gate: and laying his hands upon their heads,
he thus spake —" What! more fruit of your labours,
AMr. Discipline? You are by far the most successful of
all our agents: for by your means I have the pleasure
of opening the gates of this palace to many fair little
travellers, who would never, I am sure, have reached
this place without your help."
"I had not brought you these, Mr. Watchful," returned
Discipline, "without God's help. You know that I am
but an instrument in His hands, and a very mean one,
too; therefore, to God'be all the glory."
" Very true," answered Mr. Watchful; "Paul planteth, Apollos watereth, but God gives the increase." 1
Cor. iii. 6.
By this time one of the damsels of the house having
heard the porter's bell, had come to the door. The
damsel's name was Humility; and she was one of the
many lovely virgins who dwell there together in sweet
harmony and love. Of these, Prudence, Piety, and
Charity are considered as the chief; but,there are several younger branches of this family who are not less
lovely than their elder sisters: Hjimble Mind then delivered to the damsel Humility the note which he had
received from the Interpreter, and which she immediately carried to those within. Whereupon the little
pilgrims were called in, while Mr. Discipline went about
other work.
Then such of the damsels as had received orders;
to introduce the little pilgrims, took them by the hand
and led them first into the hall, which was a noble
apartment, where were ranged upon pedestals near the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            89
walls many marble statues exceedingly beautiful and in
fine proportion, representing the most holy and beloved
of God among the children of men-Even such as
"through faith had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of
lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge
of the sword, out of weakness had been made strong,
waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the
aliens. Women who had received their dead raised to
life again: and others who had been tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better
resurrection."  Here were also the statues of such as
"had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment: they were stoned,
they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with
the sword: they wandered about in sheep-skins and
goat-skins; being  destitute, afflicted, tormented (of
whom the world was not worthy); they wandered in
deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the
earth" (Heb. xi. 33-38); all of them  silently suffering
for the love which they bore to the Lord of pilgrims.
Here also were the memorials of many pious and holy
young persons, upon whom God had bestowed grace to
serve him in spirit and in truth.
"And there were those who pass'd life's blooming year
Beside the mournful couch of parents dear;
Renouncing all the joys of early days,
To serve their God, and mind his strictest ways."
Here also were representations in marble of parents
who, through the love they bore to their Redeemer, had
yielded up their dying infants to Him that made them,
rejoicing in the full assurance that their little sweet
ones were about to be delivered from a vain and evil
world; and submissively crying out, "Thy righteous
will, most righteous Lord, be done!" "All these, having
obtained a good report, through faith, received not the
promise: God having provided better things for them"
(Heb. xi. 39, 40);-even "an inheritance incorruptible,
and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in
heaven for them." 1 Pet. i. 4.
Through this hall the damsels led the little ones into
a fair parlour, where sat Prudence, Piety, and Charity,
with other virgins of the family. Each of these fair
maidens was busied about some appropriate good work;




90           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
and as they wrought with their hands they beguiled the
time in speaking to each other "in psalms and hymns
and spiritual songs." Eph. v. 19. But upon the little
pilgrims being brought in, immediately ceasing from
their work and suspending their song, they gathered
affectionately around them. Charity kissed them, and
Piety gave them her blessing, while Prudence brushed
the dust from their white garments. And one welcomed
them, and another welcomed them, saying,:" Blessed are
you, ye chosen ones of the Lord."
So they were made to sit down, and a dish of wholesome food was speedily set before them; of which they
were disposed to eat very heartily, since their exercise under Mr. Discipline's management had wonderfully
sharpened their appetite. Then having prayed with the
family, they were put to bed in a chamber called Peace;
where they presently fell into a deep sleep.
Now it is not to be supposed, because the little pilgrims were safely lodged in the palace Beautiful, that
they were also set free from the importunities of InbredSin. No: for as that wicked one came with us into the
world, so he will go out of the world with us. I had
turned my eye upon him from time to time ever since
the children were driven from the house of Indulgence.
When Mr. Discipline set them running, I saw that InbredSin kept close in with them; not indeed by running with
them, but, as I had often observed before, by hanging
upon them, and that so heavily, that the children were
forced to drag him with great difficulty up the hill. And
though he got many strokes from Mr. Discipline's rod,
yet he never loosed his hold; but the more Discipline
applied the scourge, the more he clung and held fast;
giving the poor children many a sore pinch and many a
painful twitch. On coming towards the top of the hill,
where the way became easier, I saw that he ceased
pulling and twitching, and went on quietly behind the
children; keeping however quite close to them. He
accompanied them also into the palace, withdrawing
himself, however, as much as possible from the notice
of the damsels of the palace; and when the children
went to bed he went with them. Nevertheless he kept
himself very quiet all night; and in the morning, just
about the time that he expected the children to arise, he
laid himself all along on the floor like one dead or fainting. And there he was when Humble Mind and his




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            91
sisters, being awakened by the sweet singing of the
birds before their window, got up and began to dress
themselves.
Now the children, being busily engaged in conversation, never heeded Inbred-Sin till he began to make a low
kind of moaning. Whereupon Playful perceiving him,
said, "Why, here lies Inbred-Sin like one half dead.
Well, well, I hope that Mr. Discipline has'at last mastered him with his scourge; for he got many a hearty
stripe yesterday."
Then Humble Mind turned to look at him; and little
Peace actually began to touch him, in order to certify
herself whether he was really dead or not.
"' No, no," said Humble Mind, "he is not dead; for I
believe that he will never die till we die, and that we
shall niever get quit of him till we sink into the grave."
"But," said Playful, "he cannot move: I think that
both his legs and his arms are broken. Though he may
not be absolutely dead, yet it appears to me that the
severe blows he received have totally disabled him."
"Well, well, I wish it may be so," answered Humble
Mind; " and then at least he will not torment us so much
as he has done. For if he should grow weaker, and we
become stronger, we shall soon be more than a match
for him. I only wish that, if it were possible, he might
die outright; and then how happy should we be!"
"0," said Peace," in the condition he now is we
need not fear him much; for I do not think he could
even stand on his legs at present if he were to put forth
all his strength."
By these means Inbred-Sin made the children believe
that he was incapable of doing them any further injury,
and that there was no manner of cause in future to fear
him. So he filled them with vain confidence. Moreover, all the time that they remained at the palace
Beautiful, he affected to be quite low and weak, like one
in dying circumstances. And thus, notwithstanding all
their experience of his subtlety in time past, and all
that they had been taught concerning him by the Interpreter and others, the children were again deceived by
this new device.
Now as soon as the young ones were dressed, their
attendance was required at family prayers; after which
all the maidens of the palace, together with the little
pilgrims, sat down to breakfast in the parlour.




92           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Breakfast being finished, every one went immediately
to her proper work; for no one is idle in the palace of
the Virtues, but all its inhabitants are employed in doing
those things which are appointed by their King. So I
saw that Prudence, Piety, and Charity, having called
the three little ones, began thus to discourse with them.
Prudence first spake. "My dear children," said she,
"if you are so inclined, the Ruler of all things will, no
doubt, grant you permission to remain for a season in
this place; where you may, with God's blessing, attain
unto the knowledge of all virtue. But while you remain here you must contentedly submit to the rules of
the place, which, although they may appear strict, are
by no means unpleasant; since they were laid down by
Him who thus characterizes the service he requires,'My.yoke is easy, and my burden is light.' " Matt. xi. 30.
To this Humble Mind answered, that he and his sisters would gladly remain with them as long as the King
should grant them permission; and that, in the meanwhile, they hoped very carefully to observe the rules of
the house.
Upon which Piety remarked, " Of yourselves, my dear
children, you cannot rightly observe the rules of this
place; but ask of God, and he will assist you."
" I am glad," returned Humble Mind, " to hear that
there are strict rules to be observed in this house; for
while I was in the house of Indulgence, where no one
exercised authority over me, I fell under the dominion
of the sin that dwelleth in me-and of all masters, methinks, this Inbred-Sin is the hardest."
"Very true, my son," said Prudence; "' whosoever is
the slave of sin lives under the cruellest bondage: and
it is in order to free children from the power of their
evil passions that the Lord, among other means, hath
appointed the rod of correction. Were children born
without sin, no chastisement would be necessary."
I heard then that Humble Mihd, being questioned by
the damsels, related all that had befallen him and his
sisters, from the removal of their parents to that very
day.
After which Piety thus addressed the little pilgrims:
"I find, my children, that you have had your trials. But
God has dealt very mercifully with you, in having
brought you thus far on your journey; although, by
your own account, from the time that you left your




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.          93
father's house you have not ceased to provoke him,
through the suggestions of the sin that dwelleth in you.
Nevertheless, while' the Lord is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy' (Psalm ciii. 8.), I
would have you to remember that on no occasion have
you ever turned to Him of your own free will and choice,
but have been perverse and stiff-necked, being led continually by your own evil hearts to turn your back both
upon him and his ways. Forasmuch, therefore, as you
are come thus far on your pilgrimage, all the work and
the glory of it belong to the Lord alone, while nothing
is to be attributed to your own exertions. For had he
not compelled you to follow Him; you would now be
wallowing with the swine in the mire of the town in
which you were born.' Where is boasting then T It is
excluded.' Rom. iii. 27. Give therefore, my children,
all the glory to God;'for who made you to differ from
other children 1 and what have you which you did not
redeive.' " 1 Cor. iv. 7.
I observed then that the damsels conversed with
Humble Mind concerning the several places of education in which he had sojourned. Whereupon Humble
Mind would know of them which they thought most
objectionable, the school of Mr. Worldly-Prudence, or
the place wherein all manner of elegant accomplishments were chiefly taught l
"It is hard, my son," replied Prudence, "to tell
which is the worst, or which is the best, of things that
are manifestly evil. There is but one way to everlasting happiness; and' Jesus saith, I am the way, and the
truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father but
by me.' John xiv. 6. We are therefore to hate every
false way, however they may differ one from another,
And choose the way of truth alone. Psalm cxix. Now'the wisdom of the prudent is to understand his way'
(Prov. xiv. 8.); and we have a promise that to the meek
this way shall be pointed out-' The meek will he guide
in judgment, and the meek willhe teach his way.' Psalm
xxv. 9. But they who seek their own glory, and the
setting forth of their own selves, run into all manner of
follies, and consume their days in vanity."
Then spake Charity; " Alas! alas! it even causes my
heart to bleed, when I think of the many fatal mistakes
into which mankind are prone to fall on this subject



94           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
and all from the want of knowing the exceeding sinful
ness of their own hearts."
"Now it comes into my mind," said Prudence, "that
I have something to exhibit which will both please and
profit these little ones; I mean the mirror or magicglass, which was given me by Mr. Spiritual-Man." Then
she ran up to her closet where she kept it, and brought
it down; and behold it was a magic-lantern, such as
children often play with. So when the damsels had
shut all the windows, and lighted a candle (Prov. xx.
27.), they set forth the lantern in order; and behold, the
things that were painted on the glasses of the lantern
were represented on the smooth white wall in bright
colours-at which the children were much pleased.
And behold there was shown on the wall a wide plain
full of large towns, all scattered over with heaps of
mire and rubbish. Above this plain was a glorious
heaven, and beneath it was a yawning grave going down
to the very pit of hell. Moreover, in the midst of the
plain stood a very unsightly old man clothed in filthy
garments; and Satan stood at his right-hand.  Zech.
iii. 1, 3.  " From the sole of his foot even unto the
crown of his head there was no soundness in him; but
wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores." Isaiah i. 6.
This man could neither stand upright (Micah vii. 2.),
nor look towards the heavens to behold the glories
therein displayed-for " the natural man receiveth not
the things of the Spirit" (1 Cor. ii. 14.); but after looking
downward for a time on the things which lay at his feet,
he began anon to rake and scratch all the muck and the
rubbish together; and while he was thus employed, he
appeared not only to become vicious, but to be filled
with an indescribable fury. At this, there came forward the appearance of one, whom the children knew
to be the schoolmaster Law, and he laid upon the man
many stripes, until he was glad to leave scraping the
muck and rubbish together, and to sit down quietly upon
the heap which he had already collected.
All this while Inbred-Sin was at the ear of Playful,
though she knew it not. So, when she saw all these
things, she began to smile; till, unable any longer to
refrain, she burst into a loud laugh.
Then said Piety, " Wherefore do you laugh, my
child?"




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           95
Playful. I could not refrain when I saw that ugly old
man covered all over with rags and dirt, and so very
ill-conditioned at the same time. I think such a vile
old man is not worthy to live. If I had been Mr. Law,
I would have put an end to him at once.
Then answered Piey, "In this case we may apply
the memorable words of the prophet,' Thou art the
man!'"- 2 Sam. xii. 7.
At which Playful blushed: whereupon Piety added
these words-" What would have become of you, my
child, if the Lord had said concerning you,' She is not
worthy to live.' And yet wherein do you differ from
yonder old man?"
Then came the tears into Playful's eyes; for she was
self-convicted: and Charity was pleased to observe her
tears.
So they looked again at the old man, who had seated
himself upon his heap of muck; and Satan began to
make a great bustle about him. For Satan himself
being the father of that old man, he called in his servants to support and adorn him. And first came one
called Art, who painted the old man over with red and
white paint, so as entirely to conceal all his wounds and
his sores; moreover she taught him to smile. Then
came one called Fashion, who put certain gaudy garments upon the old man's rags; which caused him to
look somewhat more seemly. And after this came the
damsel Light-Mind with her train, to wit, the teachers
of elegant accomplishments, all of whom very busily
engaged themselves about the old man: and it was wonderful to behold how vast a change they wrought in
him. Insomuch that Playful began to like him better;
and Peace observed that he was not half so frightful as
before. " But," said Humble Mind, "perceive you not,
my sisters, that his rags remain still beneath his fine
clothes, that his wounds are not healed, nor is his filthiness washed away V"
Now, when all this was done, certain persons, wise
in their own conceits, came to the old man with many
learned professors, putting certain books into his hand.
He received the books, and after reading therein, he
rose up inflated with vanity; and his manner was as if
he were mocking at the Most High. Then was he led
up to the top of the heap of rubbishwhich he had collected, and which they that were about him had raised




~96       THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
to an exceedingly great height-and there they put a
crown upon his head, and bowed before him. And behold, even while they bowed, one came behind and
struck him a deadly blow; upon which he lost both his
crown and his rich garments, and suddenly falling down,
he rapidly tumbled from precipice to precipice, till he
sunk into an unseen pit and totally disappeared. At
which Satan, who had stood by all the while, made outrageous merriment, and laughed the wretched sufferer
to scorn.
The children then desired to see something more;
but Prudence said, "It is enough." So the windows
being opened, and the lantern put away, Piety proceeded, as the manner of the house is on all such occasions, to put certain questions to the children concerning what they had seen.
Piety. Whom do you suppose this old man to be,
whose representation has just been exhibited to you?
Playful. I did not understand at first; but now I
know that this old man is the emblem of what we all
are by nature, and his wounds and sores signify the evil
and uncleanness of our hearts.
Piety. Well spoken, my child: and this old man is
thus described by St. Paul-" Being filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness,
maliciousness; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers, backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient
to parents, without understanding, covenant-breakers,
without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful."
Rom. i. 29-31.
Then spake Prudence, "You saw all that Art, and
Learning, and Fashion, and Elegant Accomplishments
could do for this old man. But did it seem to be within
their power to rectify his vile nature  or could they
save him from destruction 1"
Playful. To be sure, they made him look a little
better; but as to any thing else, they left him much as
they found him.
Then said Humble Mind, "When I saw them all so
busy in painting, the old man, and setting him forth in
gaudy apparel, I thought of what our Lord said to the
scribes and Pharisees-' Ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             97
within full of dead men's bones and of all uncleanness.' " Matt. xxiii. 27.
Prudence. Well spoken, my son: and herein we may
perceive the folly of such as are continually striving to
set forth and adorn their old vile and sinful nature, instead of coming to Him who alone can reform and renew
it; even to Him who'gave himself for them; that he
might sanctify and cleanse them: and that he might
present them to himself without spot or wrinkle, or any
such thing; but that they should be holy and without
blemish.' Eph. v. 25-27.
Piety. Well, let us have nothing more to do with
our' old man or his deeds.' Col. iii. 9. He is crucified
with our Lord. Rom. vi. 6.' If any man be in Christ,
he is a new creature' 2 Cor. v. 17.
I perceived then that Inbred-Sin was very busy again
with Playful, who thus vainly replied to Piety, " It is
in truth a great pleasure to think that we have nearly
done with our old nature; and that now having come
so far on our journey, our Inbred-Sin loses ground very
fast, while we are becoming every day wiser and holier.
I am sure, when I think how wicked I used to be, and
how much better I am now, I feel that I have great cause
for thankfulness."
When Charity heard the child speaking after this fashion, she sighed deeply; nor could Humble Mind forbear
blush; but Prudence rebuked her, and spake to this
purpose: "When my sister Piety admonished us to
have nothing more to do with our old man, she meant
that it behooved us to shun him, and to fly from him;
but, alas! though we would willingly have no more to
say to him, we must not hope that he will so easily be
restrained from having any thing more to do with us.
0 my child! how little, as yet, are you acquainted either
with the decitfulness of your own heart, or with the subtile devices of Inbred-Sin! Be assured however of this,
that Inbred-Sin is never more to be feared than when
he would make you believe that you are in no danger
from him."
Playful was now ashamed, and remained silentwhile Piety entered further into discourse with the children, explaining unto them that, unless a man be born
again, that is, born of the Spirit, he cannot see God.
After which she caused Humble Mind to read aloud our
Lord's conversation with Nicodemus on the subject of
VOL. V. —E




98            THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
regeneration, recorded in the third chapter of St. John's
gospel.  Moreover, I saw that she made him kneel
down and pray that the Lord would open the eyes of
his understanding, in order to a due comprehension of
this matter. And this she did, because herein is a great
mystery, which they of this world cannot receive, a
doctrine altogether despised and rejected of men, and
which Christians themselves do not thoroughly understand, although they feel and know it tobe true,-namely,
how the old and sinful nature is destroyed in them that
believe, while a new and heavenly nature is imparted
to them.
Now I saw that Piety daily used great pains to make
these little ones acquainted with this important doctrine:
sometimes taking them apart into her closet and praying
with them; at other times leading them by the hand
when she walked out into the fields, and discoursing
with them freely upon the new nature of man, when
born again in Christ, and sanctified by the Holy Spirit.
Among other statements, she represented to them, that
the heart of the old man is continually full of abominable conceits with every kind of evil thought; while
the heart of him who is born again and become a new
creature abounds in "love, joy, peace, long-suffering,
gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance."
Gal. v. 22, 23. Moreover, she took especial pains to
make the children comprehend that this work of regeneration is, for the most part, a slow or progressive work, and
that the old nature will continue to contend with the new,
until the work of grace be finished at the hour of death.
Nor did she fail to point out that to which every Christian should carefully attend, namely, the necessity of
supporting the new nature day by day, with heavenly
food, in order to its growth and improvement; just as
the natural body is fed by the fruits of the earth, in
failure of which it grows weak and faint, and at length
expires.
Thus Piety continued unweariedly to instruct the little pilgrims; insomuch that after they had been for a
short space at the palace Beautiful, it was judged necessary to introduce them to certain other teachers, of whom
I shall speak more particularly in the next chapter.




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.           99
CHAPTER XII.
Now I saw in my dream that, when the little pilgrims
had remained for a season in the palace Beautiful, the
damsels took them, one morning, by the hand and led
them through a long and shady cloister into a very large
library, formed of various ranges of apartments of very
ancient architecture, and filled with the works of the
most esteemed writers, both ancient and modern, sacred
and profane. Here was no sound of voices to be heard,
but all was hushed and quiet, inviting to study and contemplation. And in one of the largest of these apartments two very venerable men were sitting at one
table, before whom were spread many books, which
they were busied in examining; and behold, from time
to time they seemed to consult one another, and, as it
were, to compare notes one with the other.
Then said Piety to the children, " Behold those venerable persons! they are brothers; and he that looketh
most fresh and comely, is the elder by many years-for
he is immortal, and time hath no power over him."
" May I," said Humble Mind, "presume to ask their
names and characters V"
Piety. These brothers are the sons of one mother;
whose name is Wisdom. The elder is called Divine
Knowledge, and his age cannot be computed: for
although he looks so hale and comely, he was in existence before the foundation of the world. The name of
the younger is Human Knowledge; and as his birthplace was this earth, so he partakes of the infirmity and
imperfection of all earthly things. Hence you see that
he is much more wrinkled and broken down with age
than his elder brother.
"The Father Almighty," continued Piety, "sent
Divine Knowledge from his dwelling-place on high, to
be a guide and comfort to fallen man; and Human
Knowledge was charged never to lose sight of this his
elder brother, nor ever to engage in any undertaking, except in conjunction with Divine Knowledge. But," conE 2




100          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
tinued Piety, "notwithstanding the strict injunctions
laid upon these brethren by the Most High, mankind
have, in almost every age of the world, prevailed in
their attempts to separate them. And even now," continued she, " the sons of men may be divided into two
classes; those who, like Mr. Worldly-Prudence, pay
Divine honours to the younger brother; and those who,
utterly despising the younger, pretend the highest esteem
for the elder. But they that judge wisely, give the
highest honour to the elder without despising the
younger, and take delight in seeing them labour hand-inhand, each occupying his proper place, in the blessed
work of instructing the ignorant."
Now I saw in my dream that, when the damsel Piety
had thus spoken, she led the children up to the ancient
brothers, introducing them as little ones who were humble, and willing to be instructed. So after laying their
hands upon them, and blessing them, the sages caused
them to occupy places at their feet.
On that very day therefore they began to study under
the direction of these venerable teachers: and from
thenceforward, while they remained in the palace Beautiful, they went daily at a certain hour into the library,
there to receive such instruction as was adapted to their
age and condition. And now Humble Mind was made
to understand wherein Mr. Worldly-Prudence's system
of education was defective, to wit, in that he did not
make the Book of God the basis and groundwork of his
plan, using heathen authors only as auxiliary lights, and
their works as books of reference. And thus he not
only bewildered and lost himself amid the mazes of
heathen darkness and heathen morality, but became the
means of misleading multitudes of others.
In receiving the instructions of these venerable men,
the little pilgrims spent many hours every day; and
whenever they had discovered extraordinary assiduity,
I saw that they were allowed by the damsels of the
palace to enjoy the fields or gardens of Innocent Pleasure. These gardens are the peculiar gift of the Lord
of lords to the damsels the Virtues, and by him rendered
inexpressively delightful; in order that the saints upon
earth, being sometimes permitted to take the air in
them, may have some little foretaste of those joys which
are reserved fortheminheaven, through the merits of Him
in whom is their trust. These gardens are near adjoin



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           101
ing to the palace Beautiful, and the damsels of that
house have the sole charge of them, with express command from the Most High, that none enter therein, or
eat of their fruit, but such as love him and seek to do
his will.
Now I looked, and behold, there was nothing wanting
in these gardens that could render them desirable, such
as mossy fountains and curious waterfalls, blooming
parterres and fragrant groves, verdant uplands and
shadowy glens, with every variety that could delight
the eye or ravish the fancy. Here were specimens of
certain lovely flowers of Paradise, which had escaped
the-general destruction made by sin. Here were young
lambs sporting without fear, and little fawns bounding
over the hills. And here also I beheld many birds of
exquisite plumage and extraordinary note, such as certain ancient pilgrims are reported to have listened to with
peculiar transport when travelling through these parts.
These birds were heard answering each other from the
high woodlands in sweet song, and their voices were
wonderfully ravishing to such as silently walked in the
shadowy dells beneath. I saw too, among these fields,
many lovely cottages and quiet resting-places, which
God had prepared for certain aged pilgrims who loved
and trusted in him. These were under the charge of
Charity, who had the care of providing them with such
things as were necessary: and there " the poor among
men rejoiced in the Holy One of Israel." Isaiah xxix. 19.
Here were also a variety of pleasing arbours, to which,
in the cool of the day, the two venerable brothers,
Divine and Human Knowledge, were accustomed to
retire, together with Prudence, Piety, Charity, and the
other damsels of the palace, for the purpose of taking
their evening repast. Here while they temperately
feasted upon the milk of the flock and the fruits of the
garden, they held profitable discourse on subjects of
high importance, to wit, how they might best fulfil the
will of God, in relieving the wants of the poor, and in
turning the simple to the wisdom of the just. And
sometimes, in these hours of quiet leisure, Divine
Knowledge would unfold the interesting secrets of
prophecy, together with the mighty plans of Providence
for bringing about the restoration of lost mankind, and
the final glory of Christ's kingdom upon earth-and
blessed were they who heard the gracious words that




102          THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
proceeded from his lips. There was,-moreover, present
in these assemblies an aged matron called Experience,
whose tales of ancient times were at once very profitable
and pleasant; and I perceived that all her discourse
continually tended to prove one thing, namely, that,
like King David, she had been young, and then was old,
but had never seen the righteous forsaken, nor their
seed begging their bread. Psalm xxxvii. 25.
The little children were permitted at these seasons to
sit upon the moss at the feet of Charity, where, while
they listened with delight to that which was spoken,
they thankfully partook of the food provided for them.
After which they either played together upon the hills
and lawns, rivalling the young fawns and lambs in their
innocent gambols; or they walked with Piety in the
solemn grove, where they were regaled with the music
of its sacred songsters; or they performed some kind
offices for the aged pilgrims, whose little cottages were
scattered over these delightful regions. And at these
times the gladness of their young hearts not only shone
through their eyes, but very frequently expressed itself
in such songs as these" These are the joys he makes us know
In fields and villages below;
Gives us a relish of his love,
But keeps his noblest feast above."
CHAPTER XIII.
Now I saw  in my dream  that the King of kings
permitted the children to remain in the palace Beautiful
for a considerable length of time; where as they increased in stature, they grew in favour both with God
and man. Two young damsels, called Decency and
Order, had the special charge of them, and led them
sweetly through the duties of every day. They were
called up early every morning, and taught to devote the
early part of the day to God; after breakfast, they spent
a few hours with their tutors; at noon they were fed
by Temperance; and in the afternoon they were taught
by Prudence such useful works as are necessary to tho




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             103
economy of human life: after which they were directed
by Charity to apply those works to such uses as shall
be approved in that day when the Lord shall say to
those on his right hand, " Come, ye blessed of my Father,
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was an hungered and ye gave
me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was
a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed
me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and
ye came unto me." Matt. xxv. 34-36. Here also the
children learned from Piety to perform the sweet work
of praise; putting music to its best and highest use,
namely, the setting forth the glory of God.
During the whole of this season which passed so
pleasantly with the little pilgrims, Inbred-Sin, aware
that all the inhabitants of the palace would rise up
against him if he should once dare to show his face
among them, kept himself carefully in the back-ground;
where it was his object to persuade the little ones that
he was in a very weak and languishing state, and never
likely to be in a condition to torment them again as he
had formerly done.  Yet at this very time, while he
affected such extreme languor, he was scarcely less
busy with his mischievous suggestions than in seasons
of more apparent liveliness and vigour. It was now
his way, when he could get at the children's ear unobserved, to flatter them upon their great attainments in
virtue, and even to speak in high terms of their victory
over himself, as well as of the esteem in which they
were held throughout the palace. Thus he went on,
secretly introducing poison into their hearts, and making
even their good works the means of their transgressing: nevertheless, as his work was silently carried on,
so its effects, for a season, were not discoverable.
I perceived then that, after a while, it was signified
to the children that they must continue their pilgrimage.
Upon which Prudence, Piety, and Charity took the n
apart, and kissed them, and prayed with them, and shed
over them many tears. "O my little sweet ones!" said
Charity, " over whom we have so tenderly watched for
these many months, guarding you from the assaults of
that'roaring lion who goeth about seeking whom he
may devour' (1 Pet. v. 8.), think of the sorrow you will
occasion us, if ever we should hear of your turning
away from the paths of truth and holiness. Always




104          THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
remember, my children, the happy days you have enjoyed in the palace of the Virtues, with the blissful
hours which you have spent in the fields of innocent
pleasure; and know assuredly that, on becoming the
slaves of sin, you will taste of such happiness no more.
For the ways of the wicked are full of trouble, their
torment beginning even in this world:' but the work
of righteousness is peace: and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance for ever.' " Isa. xxxii. 17.
Then I saw that Piety would needs pray with them;
so making the little ones to kneel by her, she thus
breathed out her requests: " 0 holy Father, we pray
for these little ones, whom thou gavest us for a season.
We are not in the world, but these must go into the
world-O holy Father, keep. them through thy name,
that they may be one with thee. While we were with
them, we kept them in thy name, and none of them is
lost. We have given them thy word; and the world
will hate them, because they are not of the world, even as
we are not of the world. We pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest
keep them from the evil. They are not of the world,
even as we are not of the world. Sanctify them through
thy truth: thy word is truth. Father, we pray thee
that these, the redeemed of thy blessed Son, may be
with thee, where he is, that they may behold his glory
which thou hast given him; for thou lovedst him before
the foundation of the world: and, finally, we pray that
the glory which thou gavest him, he may give also to
them, that they may be one with thee, and with him."
John xvii.
After this, Prudence informed the children that, as
they advanced in their pilgrimage, they would come to
a mighty city, which is the metropolis or royal city belonging to the prince of this world, the determined
enemy of pilgrims. " That city," said she, " is called
Vanity, and its inhabitants are the men of this world.
There," added she, " pilgrims, ever since the beginning
of the world, have been exercised with various trials,
in order, if possible, to make them weary of the Way
of Salvation. In former days many were there tortured
with fire and sword; and even to this day there are
some parts of the city in which the servants of Christ
are in danger of losing their lives for his name's sake.
But," continued she, " in the more civilized part of that




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.            105
city, these barbarous customs have fallen into disrepute,
the fury of the enemy being mercifully restrained by
the Lord of pilgrims. Nevertheless the profession of a
pilgrim is held in the greatest contempt throughout the
whole City of Vanity, and the traveller to Mount Zion
is exposed to every species of contumely and reproach
in its streets, through which he must yet necessarily
pass, or go entirely out of his way. For the town is
full of those who mock at religion, according to the
words of Scripture-' Know ye not, in the last days
there shall come scoffers, walking after their own lusts,
saying, Where is the promise of his coming? for since
the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were
from the beginning of the creation.' 2 Pet. iii. 3, 4. Ye
therefore, mybeloved," proceeded the damsel Prudence,
"' seeing ye know these things before, beware lest ye
also, being led away with the error of the wicked, fall
from your own steadfastness. But grow in grace, and
in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. "
2 Peter iii. 17, 18.
I heard then that the damsels explained to the children that, from the beginning of the world, the Lord had
always preserved to himself a little remnant of chosen
ones. " Of whose salvation," said they, " the ark is a
standing type: for as in the ark Noah and his family
were preserved during the destruction of the world by
water; so, amid the abounding wickedness of the world,
apure and holy seed has still been maintained in the
earth, from generation to generation."
Upon this Prudence represented to the little pilgrims
that their safety in the town of Vanity would much depend on their finding out the abodes of these true Christians, and familiarly associating with their families.
I heard then that Piety gave the children certain
marks or signs by which they might, under the divine
direction, distinguish these true children of God from
those who through worldly motives assume their garb
and adopt their language. And among these tokens,
the following were especially to be noted-first, whether
they, as members, hold the Head, which is Christ,
" from which all the body by joints and bands having
nourishment ministered, and knit together, increaseth
with the increase of God" (Col. ii. 19.); secondly,
whether they have love one towards another-for it is
written, "By this shall all men know that ye are my
E3




106          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
disciples, if ye have love one to another" (John xiii. 35.);
and thirdly, whether they bring forth the peaceable
fruits of righteousness-for the tree is known by its
fruits-" A good tree bringeth not forth evil fruit, nor
an evil tree good fruit." Matt. vii. 18. Moreover, the
damsels gave the children a note to a certain venerable
clergyman, named Orthodox, who dwelt as a stranger
and pilgrim in the town of Vanity, waiting, like Abraham, till he should be called to a better inheritance. To
which Prudence added many directions, by which she
hoped that the little ones would be enabled to find the
dwelling of this venerable man: neither did she omit
to admonish them continually to seek counsel by prayer.
Being thus duly prepared for their journey, I perceived that the children were led forth by the damsels
of the palace till they reached the brow of the hill
Difficulty, on that side which looketh towards the Celestial City; where they kissed each other, and affectionately separated, with many tears on both sides. So
the fair damsels having gone back, the young pilgrims
remained for some time weeping on the brow of the
hill: and Inbred-Sin was with them.
Now I remarked that the descent before them was
exceedingly steep, insomuch that it seemed impossible
to go down into the valley beneath, without the hazard
of many dangerous slips and falls. The deep valley
into which they looked was called the Valley of Humiliation-but of this we shall have occasion to speak
more hereafter. The damsels had charged the children
to move warily on their way, and to use all possible
caution in going down the hill: nevertheless, when the
little ones began to centemplate the valley which was
spread at their feet, and the precipitous path by which
they were to reach it, they not only expressed great
dread of this hazardous undertaking, but presently broke
out into murmurings, very bitterly lamenting the necessity of making such a descent. And I perceived that
Inbred-Sin mingled very eagerly in the conversation that
took place among them, and gave his opinion with surprising freedom, looking as brisk and as pert as I had
ever at any time seen him: whereat I much wondered,
on considering the very weak and low condition in
which he had appeared at the palace Beautiful. I also
much marvelled to find that the children did not remark
this sudden change in him; neither reproving nor check



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           107
ing him, but listening to all he said with apparent complacency.
Upon which Inbred-Sin spoke much in favour of the
extraordinary elevation of the hill Difficulty, the towering summits of which, he remarked, afforded a most
glorious prospect on all sides: whereas the valley
spread at their feet, he said, was so despicable a place,
that he could not conceive why the Lord of pilgrims
had caused the way to Zion to pass through it. I heard,
then, that he proceeded to flatter the little pilgrims upon
their uncommon perseverance, and the wonderful exertions they had made, in attaining the glorious height on
which they then stood, and which had happily introduced
them  to the palace of the Virtues-and I perceived
that he ascribed to their own efforts all the glory of
what they had done, referring nothing to God, nor even
adverting to the rod of Discipline.
I saw, however, that after listening for awhile to Inbred-Sin, the children bethought themselves, that, as they
must needs descend the side of the mountain (the Lord
having signified his will that they should continue their
pilgrimage), it would be better to do so before night
came on. So, having no time to lose, they began their
descent; yet it was with a very ill will, since they had
nothing before them but the Valley of Humiliation,
whose gloomy appearance has alarmed many a traveller
who afterward found such consolations therein as were
not to be met with in any other part of his pilgrimage.
And now, although I was heartily vexed, yet I could
not but smile to observe the strange pranks and manceuvres of Inbred-Sin, with the various tricks he played the
little pilgrims as they were going down the hill, thereby
rendering their difficult path a hundred times more difficult. First, he would have it, as I before said, that
they should not go down at all, but tarry where they
were; because the top of the hill was, as he said,
nearer heaven than the valley. Then, upon Humble
Mind's arguing with him, and pleading that they had no
choice, but must go down, he became petulant, and would
have them to proceed in haste, that so desperate an adventure might speedily be concluded. So they ran
down the side of the mountain till each of them got a
very sore tumble, in which they bruised themselves severely against the stones.  Whereupon Inbred-Sin,
while they lay groaning half-way down the mountain,




108         THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
insultingly laughed them to scorn, crying out, " See now
what you have gained by all this eagerness to obey the
orders of your King!"-thus impiously charging upon
the Prince of princes those wounds which the little pilgrims owed entirely to their own impatience. For, although it was the pleasure of the Lord of pilgrims that
Humble Mind and his sisters should descend into the
Valley of Humiliation, yet he never required them to
lay aside all prudence and caution in making that descent.
Here I was sorry to observe that the little pilgrims,
being thus sorely bruised and wounded, did not reprove
Inbred-Sin on his suggesting these false and blasphemous accusations against the King of kings; but that, as
they rose from the ground, they sighed and mourned like
persons delivered over to despair. The steepness and
danger, however, of the place where they then lay not
permitting them to take any rest, they resolved to go
forward, though in a more wary and careful manner.
Then 1 saw that Inbred-Sin stepped before them; but
while he pretended to remove stones and stumblingblocks out of their way, he contrived so to entangle
himself in their steps, that he first pulled down one,
and then another of them, at short intervals, through
the whole of their way. And in this manner did he so
vex and bewilder the poor children, that on reaching
the foot of the mountain, they found themselves in a
most forlorn and miserable condition.
Now I have heard it said by many an old pilgrim, that
there is not in all the Way of Salvation, from the gate
which is at the head of that way even to the very land
of Beulah, a more delightful place of sojourn than the
Valley of Humiliation, although it be held in universal
contempt by the men of this world. This valley was the
favourite dwelling-place of the Lord of pilgrims, when
residing upon earth. Yea, so exceedingly soft and
balmy is the air of this valley, that, though few descend
into it willingly, yet many have confessed, as is intimated above, that the happiest hours of their pilgrimage were passed in its peaceful retirement. This valley is shaded with all manner of trees which are agreeable to the sight or good for food. A clear stream of
the water of the fountain of life winds its gentle and
untroubled course through its whole extent; and daily,
before sunrise, manna is found thickly scattered over




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           109
every part of it; moreover, the voice of the heavenly
dove is often heard from the clefts of the rocks which
enclose the valley on either side.
It was nearly dusk when the little pilgrims reached
the bottom of the hill; where, on account of their present pain and vexation, they could neither enjoy the
balmy air of the valley, nor find rest on the soft
green turf which it spread beneath their feet. They,
however, sat themselves down for a time; and, being
greatly exhausted, they ate of the dried fruits with
which the damsels of the palace Beautiful had supplied
them. But their repast afforded them  very little refreshment, because it was received with a discontented
mind; so greatly did they regret losing the pleasures
they had enjoyed in the palace Beautiful, and so deeply
did they lament the meanness of their new situation;
for inbred-Sn had taught them to consider the palace
Beautiful as a more honourable station in society than
the valley they were now entering. Then I looked
again at these little pilgrims, and found them still sitting at the foot of the hill as the darkness began to cover
them: and I marvelled to find how familiarly they allowed Inbred-Sin to converse with them, after appearing
to keep him at such a distance in the palace Beautiful.
But I considered not how exceedingly powerful an
effect pious company produces upon the minds of young
pilgrims, in restraining them from sin: neither did I
then recollect how commonly our more gross inbred
corruptions lie still and quiet, and seem, as it were, dead
or extinguished, when they have no opportunity of
working to any effect. Nor did it strike me at the moment, that this very Inbred-Sin, though he had not
broken forth into any openly disgraceful act in the palace Beautiful, had nevertheless been effectually at work,
to the injury of the little pilgrims, in filling them with
spiritual pride and high thoughts of themselves, as now
indeed too clearly appeared from their extreme abhorrence of the Valley of Humiliation. For they who are
really humble love this valley, and would be thankful if
it extended from one end to the other of their pilgrim's
course.
So the little pilgrims sat hearkening to Inbred-Sin,
till, being overcome with weariness, they fell asleep.
Then gazing on these sinful little ones, I seriously considered the state of man upon earth; how utterly lost




110          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
he is to all that is good, and how apt to fall, even after
having known the way of righteousness! And as 1
mused on these things, I felt a deep conviction that the
salvation of man is all of grace; insomuch that he is
unable in his own strength to take one effectual step towards it. Nay, I clearly perceived that, even when
considerably advanced in the Way of Salvation, the
saint is as entirely dependant on his heavenly Parent,
and as much in need of the daily supplies of his grace,
as the tenderest babe in Christ. I now also comprehended many of those dark and mysterious providences
which had beforetime so often tried my own weak faith;
plainly discerning that it was necessary for the Lord
occasionally to withdraw his support from his people,
in order to make them sensible of their own nothingness and insufficiency, as well as to lead them to the
exercise of a more absolute reliance upon himself.
Moreover, I recollected having sometimes remarked,
that great humiliations generally follow states of high
prosperity or singular exaltation among the saints on
earth; just as the present state of darkness and dejection among these little pilgrims, with their stupid submission to the will of Inbred-Sin, had followed the prosperous and happy days lately spent in the palace Beautiful.
Now it came to pass, while I was lost in these meditations, that I suddenly perceived a light in the sky towards the east, whence presently a very bright form,
yet clothed with a cloud in order to conceal a part of its
dazzling glory, descended from the heavens, and drew
near to the little pilgrims. On the appearance of this
heavenly vision, I saw that Inbred-Sin concealed himself; but the little ones remained in a deep sleep, while
the heavenly visitant addressed himself to Humble Mind,
saying, " Lovest thou me, my son T"
I perceived then that Humble Mind started from his
sleep, and looking up, said, " Who art thou, Lord V"
The other replied, "I am He that'was wounded for
thy transgressions, and bruised for thy iniquities.'
Isaiah liii. 5. For thy sake' I gave my back to the
smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the
hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting.'"
Isaiah 1. 6.
Then I saw that Humble Mind fell upon his knees,
and lifting up his hands, cried, " My Lord and my God.'




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           I I
Upon which the Holy One replied, "' He that taketh
not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of
me.'" Matt. x. 38.
With that I perceived that the glorious vision faded
from the view of the little pilgrim; and behold, the
child lay awhile prostrate on the ground, bitterly
weeping; for his heart smote him on account of his ingratitude to his Saviour; and he felt utterly unworthy
of that special condescension which had led the Prince
of princes a second time to reveal himself to him, and
plead with him, as it were, face to face. He lay, therefore, weeping and lamenting till dawn of day; when,
rising from the ground and awaking his sisters, he reported to them  what he had seen, and how  he had
thereby been made sensible of the pride and ingratitude
of his heart.
Now I saw in my dream that these little ones were
much affected when they heard the words of their brother; for it pleased the Lord to bless his report to their
profit. And they said one to another, " We have indeed
sinned grievously in hearkening to Inbred-Sin, and in
presuming to murmur against the commands of our
Lord. 
So, when they had wept over each other for awhile,
they arose from the ground; and having drunk of the
water which flowed in a pure clear stream by the wayside, and also washed themselves therewith, they filled
their golden pots with the manna which, a little before
sunrise, appeared thickly scattered around them on the
grass: then, earnestly asking the Lord's blessing on
their journey, they began to set forward along the Valley of Humiliation. And behold, Inbred-Sin followed
upon their steps; for he would in no case suffer himself
to be left behind, although the little pilgrims would most
gladly have been quit of his company.




112          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
CHAPTER XIV.
I SAW then in my dream that, although the children
began their day's journey in considerable sadness of
heart (being cast down by a strong sense of their late
sin and ingratitude towards the Prince of princes), yet
as they advanced along the Valley of Humiliation they
became more easy, till at length the expression of peace
was entirely restored to their countenances. And I
remarked that their eyes were directed more continually
towards the splendid prospect before them, namely, the
glories of Mount Zion rising faintly and indistinctly
above the eastern horizon, than they had at any time
been during the former part of their pilgrimage. Moreover, I marked that Inbred-Sin was as quiet in this valley
as ever I had seen him; although I observed that he
sometimes uttered a low whining cry, which no doubt
would have broken out into loud murmurs against the
King of kings, if Humble Mind, who kept his late vision
continually in remembrance, had not sharply rebuked
him, pressing him closely with the following words of
our Lord, to which he could offer no reply-" Then said
Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me,
let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow
me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and
whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it."
Matt. xvi. 24, 25.
Now after advancing a little way in the Valley of
Humiliation, the young pilgrims were enabled to discover that the place abounded with beauties, such as
they had never seen in all their travels. The brook of
water, of which we have spoken before as for the most
part winding its course near to the Way of Salvation,
seemed, as it were, to linger among these delightful
meadows, and to show itself more full and clear than in
any other part of the pilgrim's path. Many flowers
grew in these fields, and especially on the margin of
the brook. These were, for the most part, flowers of
humble growth and delicate appearance-flowers of the
valley, which could not live on higher grounds, being




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           113
unable to endure the rough winds to which such situations are generally exposed.
I heard then that the little pilgrims began to discourse
with each other as they walked along. And thus spake
Humble Mind: " Dear sisters, though yesterday I came
down the hill with such an ill will, yet I am now inclined to think that the Valley of Humiliation is the
safest, and perhaps the happiest place upon earth, for a
poor sinner to sojourn in. I am ashamed when I think
of the high thoughts I once had of myself; and that not
only before I became a pilgrim, but since. Even yesterday how was my heart filled and puffed up with
spiritual pride! I call it spiritual pride," continued he,
" because I was not proud of any thing external, but
rather of what I thought the good and prosperous state
of my soul. Now indeed I see my folly; and I thank
God for opening my mind, and showing me that he who
has by his sins brought the Son of God to the cross, can
never have any cause of glorying, except in that cross
itself."
"But, brother," said Playful, "there is one thing
which I wish to understand-I observe that every holy
person, when talking on the subject of man's salvation,
is accustomed to speak of the death of Christ our Lord
as if he had died for him or her only, and not for the
whole church."
To this Humble Mind answered, " It is very proper
that each one should do so; because, if you, or I, or any
other person had been the only trangressor of all the
sons of Adam, the Lord must have died for that one
person, if that one person was to be saved. Therefore,
as far as you, or I, or any other individual of the sons.
of Adam is concerned, every sinner is guilty of the death
of Christ our Lord, and must lay to his own account
every trial which he endured."
Here Playful began to look grave; while Peace answered, " Brother, I nowsee myheavy guilt in having put
to shame and to death that Holy and Blessed One, who is
the chief among ten thousand; and I feel how becoming
humility is to such a wretch as I am."
I saw then that Humble Mind drew his book from his
bosom, and read these words-"'When men are cast
down, then thou shalt say, There is lifting up; and he
shall save the humble person.' Job xxii. 29.' He for-.
getteth not the cry of the humble.' Psalm ix. 12,




114          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.' Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall
lift you up.' James iv. 10.'For whosoever exalteth
himself shall be abased; and he that hurnbleth himself
shall be exalted.'" Luke xiv. 11.
Thus the little pilgrims went on their way, entertaining themselves with holy discourse and divine meditation till noon-day, when they came to a garden or
plantation of nuts, where the ripe fruit hung invitingly
upon the trees. Then said Humble Mind, " See what
the Lord has provided for us!" So after gathering, they
sat down and ate of the nuts. Moreover, they drank
of the water of the brook; and being refreshed, they
again went on their way.
Then looking for Inbred-Sin, I saw him skulking behind, and appearing like one meditating mischief: nevertheless he kept himself quiet, and, for the present, said
not a word. For, as I before observed, the skill of this
Inbred-Sin often discovers itself in keeping altogether
quiet and out of sight, until some favourable opportunity
offers for making an attack with advantage. And on
the other hand the wisdom of the saints lies in standing
continually upon their watch-tower, ready armed for
the battle; according to that which is written, " Watch
and pray, lest ye enter into temptation." Mark xiv.
38. But these little pilgrims, like too many others even
of superior age and larger experience, seldom feared
Inbred-Sin when he was quiet: and, therefore, as he did
not particularly inconvenience or trouble them at this
time, they were glad enough to let him alone.
Now I saw in my dream that the little ones having
slept peacefully that same night in the Valley of Humiliation, continued their journey in the morning. But
I perceived that, after journeying all day, towards nightfall the valley seemed to sink lower and lower, and to
become more and more narrow. It appeared also in
this place less verdant, there were fewer flowers, and
the brook no longer wound its course near the pilgrim's
path. Then said Humble Mind, " Methinks we are leaving the ~pleasanter part of this valley behind us, while
that which lies before seems even more gloomy than
the spot on which we now stand."
"Let us then," said Playful, " go back a little way
into the more lightsome part of the valley, just to find
a night's lodging; since the country whichlies before
us has so very dismal an appearance."




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           115
To which Humble Mind replied, " Know you not,
sister, that it is unlawful for a Christian to go back on
any occasion 1 because his safety depends on having his
face always turned Zion-wards." Nevertheless, though
Humble Mind spake so wisely on occasion; yet, at the
entreaties of Playful and Inbred-Sin, he consented to go
back a little way: where, when the children had found
such a place as they deemed convenient for their night's
lodging, they sat down on the grass by the way-side,
and began to converse with each other.
And first spake Inbred-Sin, " This Valley of Humiliation," said he, " after all that has been said in its favour,
with respect to its suitableness to man's state as a sinner
upon earth, is, methinks, at best but a place very little
desirable: and surely, if the Lord loved his servants, he
would not appoint them to spend so many hours of their
pilgrimage in so dreary a solitude."
But when Inbred-Sin proceeded to murmur against
the King of kings on account of his dealings with his
people, I observed that Humble Mind rebuked him; at
the same time reading from his book these encouraging
sentences-" The Lord will not cast off for ever: but
though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For he doth
not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men."
Lament. iii. 31-33.
I perceived then that Inbred-Sin shifted his ground,
saying that he did not mean to charge the King of kings
with inflicting unnecessary chastisements upon his people, and upon them in particular; " For," said he, " your
King is just and good. But then, of what manner of
spirit must you be, if such afflictions have become necessary for you " I heard then that he proceeded to
lay all their sins and all their troubles in order before
them; charging them especially with having so often
listened to him, although, in their esteem, an undoubted
child of hell.
And behold, while I wondered greatly, and said to
myself, "What will come of all this! Is Inbred-Sin
himself become a preacher  and'is Saul also among
the prophets "'" 1 Sam. x. 12. Even while I wondered at this, it became evident to me, that he was no
less engaged in performing his master's work, when he
seemed to be pleading for the Lord, than when he spoke
without disguise the language of hell. For after having




116           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
affirmed the afflictions of the little pilgrims to be without precedent, he proceeded to prove from thence that
their trangressions had likewise been without example,
and that their sins were beyond the measure even of
Christ's mercy-designing thereby to excite in their
minds the dreadful apprehension, that they were already
lost beyond the hope of salvation. Moreover, when
Humble Mind turned to his book to find there some
comfortable words wherewith to assure himself that,
however grievous his transgressions had been, they
were not beyond the reach of redeeming mercy, Inbred-Sin, looking over his shoulder, directed him to such
passages as served only to perplex and trouble him the
more. And thus it sometimes happens, that the sin of
a man's heart may perversely wrest even the Holy Book
of God to his own destruction.
The text which at this time Inbred-Sin pointed out
and applied to the case of Humble Mind and his sisters
was this-" For it is impossible for those who were
once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift,
and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have
tasted the good Word of God, and the powers of the
world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them
again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves
the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.
For the earth which drinketh in the rain that cometh
oft upon it, and bringeth forth herbs meet for them by
whom it is dressed, receiveth blessing from God: but
that which beareth thorns and briers is rejected, and is
nigh unto cursing; whose end is to be burned." Heb.
vi. 4-8.
I perceived then that, as Humble Mind and his sisters
continued to listen to Inbred-Sin, they became more and
more troubled. And now night coming on. a hollow
whistling wind arose, which sweeping violently up the
valley, benumbed all their limbs with cold; insomuchthat
they could not stretch themselves out separately upon the
grass with any hope of comfortable repose. They therefore gathered close together, and sat up all night, bemoaning themselves; sometimes listening to Inbred-Sin,
sometimes reproaching him, and often exclaiming, that
he would surely bring them to destruction, if indeed he
had not already fashioned them into vessels of wrath.
Now I understood that what these little pilgrims then
suffered, arose from their own faint-heartedness and




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            117
want of faith, as well as from their taking alarm at the
prospect before them, and turning back to what they
thought a better and safer spot of ground for their night's
repose. For it hath been agreed among all pilgrims
from the time of Abraham, who was himself a stranger
and pilgrim upon earth, down to this present day, that
whatever station the Lord appoints as a temporary
resting-place for his servants, must needs be more safe
and easy than any place of their own providing; and
that it is neither lawful nor by any means safe to go back
in the Way of Salvation, though it should be ever so
short a step. Moreover, by this error of the little pilgrims in going back to seek a commodious night's lodging, they gave great advantage to the enemy, and thereby wholly deprived themselves of that night's repose.
For their minds becoming greatly discomposed through
sorrow for the past, as well as through fear of the future,
they found it utterly impossible once to close their eyes.
Neither did their comfort return with the returning day:
for the prospect before them still appeared exceedingly
dreary. They were almost at the mouth of the Valley
of the Shadow of Death-a place of dragons, as described by David the king: and, indeed, a fearful place
it was. But they must needs pass through it, or give
up all thoughts of the kingdom of heaven.
This valley is a place where the pilgrim is cut off
from all spiritual comfort,-where his sins are set before
him in order, and where the face of the Saviour is hidden from his view. Moreover, in this place the torments of the damned are often brought before the mind
of the pilgrim, while his path is haunted by appearances
of the most appalling description. In this valley, the
day is as darkness; God regards it not from above, neither doth the light of heaven shine upon it. Job iii. 4.
Nevertheless, they that trust in the Lord shall be brought
through it: " The Lord will bring them by a way that
they knew not; he will lead them in paths that they
have not known: he will make darkness light before
them, and crooked things straight. These things will
he do unto them, and not forsake them." Isaiah xlii. 16.
Now when Inbred Sin beheld this valley by the morning light, he was very urgent with the young pilgrims
not to venture forward. But notwithstanding all the
terrors they felt, the Lord afforded them such secret




118           THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
help as enabled them to proceed, though with much fear
and trembling, and under great dejection of spirits.
Thus therefore they went on till they came to the entrance of the valley itself; and behold, as they advanced,
the way became darker and more frightful. Their path
also was here so extremely narrow, that they could
scarcely keep their footing, but were in danger every
moment of slipping off from the sound ground into the
bogs and quagmires which were on either hand. And
now as the darkness became greater, the air seemed to
be filled with whisperings; which whisperings were so
full of dreadful blasphemies, and so exceedingly terrifying, that the little pilgrims were ready to faint at the
sound. But the children could not discover the whisperer; not knowing whether it was Inbred-Sin, or some
evil spirit close at their ears. Then said Playful, " Surely
we shall be lost in this place, and never see the Celestial Kingdom!"
" Nay, but," said Peace, "have we not now the promises of our Lord to support us, as heretofore. and hath
he not said,' I will never leave thee nor forsake thee x' "
Heb. xiii. 5.
The little pilgrims then endeavoured to proceed, finding it as painful to stand still as to go forward. And
behold, as they advanced, the place became still more
dark and dismal; neither was there one cheering ray
of light afforded them through the whole of that awful
passage. So they began to pray aloud, making earnest
supplication unto God: and behold, while they prayed,
they found assistance, which enabled them to go on all
that day, and indeed all that night, though scarcely
knowing whither they went. Towards morning, however, they saw a faint light before them, which grew
stronger as they advanced, gradually enabling them to
pick their steps. Whereupon they hastened forward,
till, to their unutterable joy, they found themselves quite
clear of the valley. And no sooner did they see again
the light of day, and begin to breathe a purer air, than
they broke into loud songs of praise, magnifying and
adoring the name of their great Deliverer.
Then said Humble Mind, " I have often heard of the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, but never could have
supposed it to be so dreadful a place."
"Let us give glory to our God," returned Peace,




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           119
" who has brought us out of those doleful regions, into
the way of light and salvation!"
So the little pilgrims sat down and refreshed themselves with such things as they had; after which they
continued their journey.
CHAPTER XV.
ON leaving the Valley of the Shadow of Death, the
children speedily reached the caves of giants Pagan and
Pope. Now these giants, by reason of their age and infirmities, were incapable of doing so much mischief as
they had formerly done: but they sat at the entrance of
their caves, the one on this side of the road and the other
on that, from whence they called to the little pilgrims
as they passed, inviting them to their several places.
Whereupon the children hastened away as fast as their
feet could carry them. And it was well they did so;
for the giants became so enraged when they found their
persuasions disregarded, that they began to abuse both
them and their King, and to use such language as Christian children ought not to hear.
Now I saw in my dream that the children had scarcely
passed a bow-shot from the giants, when they entered
into a grove of dark and gloomy trees, on the branches
of which sat a number of owls and bats; creatures
which, not being able to endure the light, kept their
eyes constantly closed through the day. These are
strange doctrines, doubts, errors, and vile conceits.
Then said Inbred-Sin, " What are these V'
" Let them alone," replied Humble Mind, " while we
pass forward; for if we disturb them, they will only be
flapping about our eyes and ears."
" Nay, but," said Inbred-Sin, " I should like to know
what they are."
"They are best let alone," said Humble Mind again.
Inbred-Sin, however, could not be persuaded to let the
little party go quietly on without disturbing these creatures; but he would have it, that one or other of the
children should throw a stone at them. So Playful,
allowing herself to be over-persuaded, took up a hand



120           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
ful of pebbles and threw them into the trees, although
Humble Mind and Peace called aloud to her to forbear;
whereupon such a cloud of these evil birds rose from
the trees and descended upon the children, as nearly
overwhelmed them. At this unexpected onset, little
Peace was suddenly thrown flat upon her face; and it
was as much as Humble Mind and Playful could do, to
stand their ground: for the creatures kept beating upon
them with their wings in every direction, uttering, at
the same time, such doleful shrieks as added greatly to
the children's perplexity. As to Inbred-Sin, who had
been the prime cause of all this trouble, he stood by
laughing heartily, and calling out first to one of the little
pilgrims, then to another, in such a manner as bewildered them more and more.
I was in hopes that these obscene creatures would immediately take again to the trees: and so they would,
no doubt, had the little pilgrims kept themselves quiet.
But Inbred-Sin advised them to maintain the conflict,
and to put forth all their strength in contending with
and buffeting their winged enemies: by which means
they were only rendered the more troublesome. Humble Mind, however, having contrived to raise little Peace
from the ground, they at length made shift to disengage
themselves from these unclean creatures, when they
ran off with all speed, and thus escaped further harm.
Then I wondered for a time what this could mean,
till the matter was made plain to me: and behold, it was
this-that when young Christians are so unfortunate as
to fall in the way of those who hold strange doctrines, or
entertain errors and filthy conceits, their only security
is to hasten forward, shutting their eyes and their ears,
yea, and their lips too; not allowing themselves to be
induced, by pride and conceit, to suppose themselves
powerful enough to contend with and conquer their subtile enemies.
Now I perceived that, after the little pilgrims had got
clear of their enemies, they ran for a time as though it
were for their lives, while Inbred-Sin kept close on their
steps: and behold, he amused himself and kept up their
alarm by repeating the hoarse croakings and shrieks of
the obscene birds by which the little pilgrims had been
lately attacked. However, after awhile Humble Mind
recovered himself sufficiently to distinguish between
the cries of the birds and Inbred-Sin's imitation of them;




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.            121
when he reproved Inbred-Sin for thus mimicking the
hideous noises by which they had been so much terrified. So Inbred-Sin held his peace, and the little pilgrims went quietly forward.
I perceived then in my dream, that, as the pilgrims
journeyed on, they came to a place where was a very
wide wilderness, an exceedingly solitary place, and
promising very little comfort. Nevertheless, they found
more satisfaction in this part of their pilgrimage than
they at first expected; and especially, because the
manna lay thick on the ground in many parts of their
way. And there being in these countries no inns or
places of refreshment for pilgrims, the little travellers
to Mount Zion were, I saw, particularly careful in gathering the manna betimes every morning, and filling their
golden pots for every day's consumption. Moreover,
although the brook did not here flow along by the wayside as in other parts of the children's path, yet even in
this dry and parched wilderness there were not wanting
certain wells, here and there, by the way-side, from
which the little people were enabled to draw water for
their refreshment. So that upon the whole, their passage through this wilderness was made with much comfort. Not that they were free all this time from the
interruptions of Inbred-Sin; for, as I have often before
observed, it is the nature of this our bosom inmate never
to rest, but to be always either openly or covertly employed in some mischief. They were however enabled,
through the divine help, without which nothing good
can be effected, to check and repress him whenever he
would be putting in his word: and it really did me good
to see how manfully these little ones were enabled to
contend with him in this place.
If he attempted to give his opinion on any occasion,
one would say to him, "When your advice is not asked,
why do you put in your word? We will, with God's
help, serve the Lord, and not hearken to any of your
opinions."  And another would say to him, " Hold your
peace: we will have no fellowship with you."  And
thus he was rebuked on all sides; for the little pilgrims,
during their passage through this desert, being strengthened by the manna on which they subsisted from day to
day, and not having their stomachs loaded with grosser
aliments, became very brisk and lively, and were continually on their guard against all the attempts of this
VOL V.-F




122          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
their inbred tormentor to draw them to evil. Nevertheless 1 marvelled greatly at the unblushing effrontery
and indefatigable perseverance of Inbred-Sin in pursuing
his purpose, which was to turn the little pilgrims from
the way of life into the paths of destruction.  Sometimes he would be as smooth as oil, and put on all the
meekness of a dove, walking by the side of the pilgrims
with his eyes turned Zion-wards, and his hands joined
in prayer. Then, when he thought they began to look
on him with a favourable eye, he would talk of religion,
and quote Scripture: and it is surprising how glibly he
would run off the language of Mount Zion. Moreover,
if not checked, he would join them in their devotions,
yea, and lead those devotions too, and that in as fervent
a manner, and with as audible a voice as any one of the
company-and yet, before any one was aware, he would
suddenly turn all these religious exercises into ridicule,
suggesting some vain or foul thought, by which all was
at once polluted and spoiled. If detected or reproved
at this hypocritical work, he was not abashed or confounded, but was ready in an instant with some other
contrivance for advancing his master's cause. And it
was marvellous what expertness he showed in suiting
his temptations to the age and state of those with whom
he associated: so that it would require a large volume
to report the half of his tricks and contrivances-" for the
heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked: who can know it?" Jer. xvii. 9.
Now I saw that, when the little pilgrims had arrived
at the end of this wilderness, they came to a little rising
ground covered with tall trees; and on reaching the top
of this hill, behold, they saw before them, at no great
distance, the mighty town of Vanity. Here therefore
they remembered that the damsels of the palace Beautiful had spoken to them of this city, informing them
that they must needs pass through it, and that it was a
place of more than ordinary danger for pilgrims.
The children stood all amazed on beholding this
mighty city, which extended itself towards the east, the
west, the north, and the south, much farther than the
eye could reach, adorned with all manner of gay and
magnificent buildings; such as theatres, castles, towers,
halls, palaces, and various kinds of places of worship.
The noise and din of the city reached even to the hill
on which the children stood; and its smoke, which rose




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           123
up to the very heavens, entirely concealed the bright
light on the eastern horizon, which had been pointed
out to the little pilgrims by Evangelist. Then said
Humble Mind, " My heart faints within me at the sight
of that great and wicked city: would to God, my dear
sisters, that the whole of our journey lay through wildernesses and solitary places, and that we might be
spared a passage through the town of Vanity!"
" Brother," replied Peace, " does it become us to wish
things otherwise than our Lord has ordered them T Did
not the Son of God himself, when on earth, spend many
days in this town of Vanity  - and have we not been informed that in its streets he was crucified? If, therefore, it pleases him that we should walk through it in
our way to the city, let us not murmur, but rather pray
that we may not be drawn aside by the vanities of the
place."
" Beloved sister," said Humble Mind, "you are quite
right, and I have spoken amiss: but shall not we stop
here awhile and take a little rest, since the day is very
far spent? Let us, I pray, have some sweet discourse
together in this verdant shade, before we proceed on
our journey: for I love not the thought of yonder vain
and tumultuous city; and I fear lest we should not
readily succeed in discovering there the abode of the
true Christians."
Then spoke Playful, "Methinks, brother, that you are
fearful without cause. Did not the damsels give us
tokens by which we might know the true servants of
God from the other inhabitants of Vanity Fair T And
where must our wits be, if we allow ourselves to be
misled 1"
Wondering much at these words of Playful, I looked,
and behold, Inbred-Sin was seated close at her ear; and
there he had been whispering unreproved for some
minutes. Now I saw, in my dream, that the children
sat down upon the grass, and refreshed themselves with
manna from their golden vessels: but the eyes of Playful were frequently drawn towards the city of Vanity,
which, as the shades of night advanced, was lighted up
with many lights. So Humble Mind and Peace held
sweet discourse together for some time. After which
I heard the little party, according to their evening custom, repeating to each other certain portions of their
Holy Book.
F2




124          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
Now behold, while they were thus employed, there
arose a gentle rustling anong the trees, of which there
were many in this place. After which a fragrant and
refreshing breeze passed over the little pilgrims; and
in the breeze was heard a sound (and indeed a most
ravishing sound it was), as of angels hymning the high
praises of God. So the children looked one at another,
while the tears came into their eyes; moreover, they
smiled for joy: but, until the music had ceased, they
spake not to each other. Then said Humble Mind,
" Did I not say but now, that I should be glad if the
whole of my course lay through such solitary places as
these 1 And at this moment I recollect the damsels of
the palace Beautiful giving us an account of certain holy
persons, who, being driven out from the presence of
mankind, and condemned to dwell in deserts and caves
of the earth, were there often consoled by such heavenly
music as we have just heard."
Peace. I remember it also; and perhaps this music
has been sent for the purpose of encouraging us to stand
firm during our sojourn in the town of Vanity.
Humble Mind. My heart fails me, by reason of the
trials to which we shall probably be exposed in the
wicked city before us.
I saw then that Peace began to weep; and presently
she broke out in these words-" 0 my sweet brother
and sister! how pleasant it is to sit apart from all the
world, thinking and speaking of holy things as we now
do! Ah, beloved companions! what pleasant hours
have we spent together in these days of our pilgrimage!
-in the fields of the shepherd Sincerity; in the house
of Mr. Interpreter; at the foot of the holy cross;
in the fields of Innocent Pleasure; in the palace Beautiful; in the Valley of Humiliation; and lastly, in this
wilderness-happy hours, in which we have communed
with our Saviour and our God I while weak, poor, sinful, and utterly vile as we are, we have been brought,
step by step, on our way towards his heavenly kingdom. Let us earnestly pray that the dear Saviour
who has hitherto led and supported us, may never
leave nor forsake us, till the glorious work of our salvation be finished: and then shall we spend a happy
eternity together in praising God and the Lamb for ever
and ever."
Now I wondered greatly to hear such words proceed



THE INFANTS PROGRESS.            125
ing from the mouth of such a babe, though I had for
some time past observed her greatly outgrowing her
elder sister in grace. Upon which I recollected that
God is no respecter of persons; but that he giveth
much to one and less to another, according to his own
free will and pleasure.
After awhile I looked again at the little pilgrims,
when they were engaged in prayer; which being concluded, they laid themselves down upon the grass and
fell asleep. Now in this part of the wilderness, which
lies near to the City of Vanity, were many wolves and
dogs prowling about, creatures which find subsistence
among the the burying-grounds on the skirts of the city.
And I became alarmed for the sleeping children, when
I saw these animals approaching their resting-place,
and skulking around them  among the brakes and
bushes.
But, while I wondered wherefore they did not spring
upon them and tear them limb from limb, I looked, and
behold, there sat beside the little sleepers a certain
shepherd, clothed in white, with a crook in his hand;
and the face of this shepherd was all glorious and beautiful, such as I could not steadfastly look upon. Then
I recollected the words of the holy psalmist-" The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me
to lie down in green pastures." Psalm xxiii. 1, 2.
CHAPTER XVI.
Now I saw in my dream that, when the children
awoke in the morning, they beheld the great city before them all resplendent with the rays of the rising
sun. And behold its golden domes, palaces, temples,
pagodas, mosques, pantheons, theatres, walls, gates,
towers, and bulwarks, filled them with amazement; and
while they stood gazing upon them, Inbred-Sin broke
into loud expressions of admiration. I heard then that
Humble Mind reproved him: but Playful was pleased
with his remarks. So, being encouraged by Playful he
took upon him to say that the City of Vanity was by no
means such a place as the damsels of the palace Beau



126           THE INFANT S PROGRESS,
tiful and many other over-much righteous persons had
represented; that the city itself was an exceedingly fair
city to look upon, and indeed the prime glory of the
world; moreover, he added, that they were very uncharitable who asserted that there were not many good
persons in that city. In this manner he ran on, to the
great perplexity of Humble Mind and Peace; who while
they thought it their duty to reprove him, performed
that duty in too timid and trembling a manner. Whereupon this bold one became still more bold, as I shall
have occasion to show  by-and-by. For he that reproveth sin, and doeth it not courageously and effectually, gives an advantage to the Evil One of which he
will not fail to avail himself.  The little pilgrims then,
having looked awhile on the city, betook themselves to
their journey,
Now it was not long before they approached the outer
wall of the city.  And behold, many of the inhabitants
were walking forth to take the air; and as they brushed
by the little pilgrims, they looked upon them just as
men look upon a person whom they despise.  Nevertheless they suffered the strangers to pass on: for, as
hath been before remarked, it is not now usual in the
town of Vanity to imprison pilgrims and put them to
violent deaths, as in former times.  In ancient days, pilgrims passing through the town of Vanity had trial of
cruel mockings and scourgings, and of sundry other bitter persecutions; of which an account is given in the
eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. But
the influence of the better part of the inhabitants of the
town having now become greater, the enemies of the
Lord are not able to carry it towards Christians as in
former times. So the little pilgrims might have passed
on in perfect peace to the gate of the city, if Inbred-Sin
would have suffered them: but as soon as he observed
the scornful looks of those who passed by, he failed not
to point them out to the pilgrims. And though Humble
Mind reproved him, saying, " We are servants of him
who was crucified in this town-Is the servant greater
than his Lord  If they persecuted him, will they not
also persecute us V" John xv. 20. -yet this inbred tormentor would not remain quiet, but kept continually
observing how the inhabitants discovered their scorn,
shooting out their lips and shaking their heads. I per.
ceived also that even Peace and Humble Mind, who had,




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           127
as I thought, made up their minds to expect nothing
better than contempt and ridicule in the town of Vanity,
became much discomposed, as their glowing cheeks
testified; while Playful was thrown into such a state
of confusion, that she seemed hardly to know what she
was doing.
In this manner they proceeded till they came to the
city gate, which they found wide open; for the gate of
Vanity is never shut. So passing through the gate they
entered into a wide street, which stretched away before
them as far as they could see. Now there were such a
bustle and noise in the street, such passing to and fro
of carriages, horsemen, and foot-passengers, that the
little children were jolted and hustled at every step.
Moreover, their eyes were continually turned towards
the fine things which they saw displayed in the windows
of the shops on every side: so that, instead of hastening over this dangerous ground, they made little or no
progress forward. Now this was Inbred-Sin's time;
and never did I see him more active, more insolent, or
more unreasonable, than he was in these streets of
Vanity. He had twenty conceits in a single minute,
his humour changing as fast as the colours on the back
of the chameleon. He would one minute assert that the
town of Vanity was a very good place, its customs honourable, and its people worthy of esteem; the next
minute he would be filling the hearts of the little pilgrims with the dread of persecution and ridicule; then
again he would have them put off their pilgrims' garments, and put on some of the gaudy dresses which
were exposed in the shop-windows-and thus he went
on, not giving the little pilgrims a moment for collecting their thoughts or lifting up their hearts in prayer.
Now I perceived, in my dream, that, as the pilgrims
advanced, the children of Vanity, who were playing in
the streets, began to gather after them, and to use such
by-words and terms of reproach as are there generally
applied to pilgrims. At first they did but whisper and
mutter; but soon becoming bolder, as the multitude
gathered about them, they grew quite loud and scurrilous in their abuse, raising such a commotion that the
whole street was disturbed, while the inhabitants came
crowding to their doors and windows.
Then said Inbred-Sin, "Did I not tell you it would be
so! Why, then, did you not listen to my advice, and




128          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
pull off these outward garments, which are peculiar to
pilgrims, and put on such as accord a little with the
fashions of the place  In so doing, you might have
passed quietly through the town; after which, at a more
convenient time and place, you might readily have put
on your white garments again."
" But," replied little Peace, " our Lord hath solemnly
said,' Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my
words in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him
also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh
in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.'" Mark
viii. 38.
Inbred-Sin answered, "But who can feel otherwise
than ashamed on such an occasion. And who can help
fearing such a generation of men as these, even more
than they fear him who will hereafter come in the clouds
of heaven with all his holy angels V"
Thendid Peace rebuke Inbred-Sin; but Humble Mind
and Playful kept silence.
Now the crowd pressed more and more upon the
little pilgrims, terrifying them exceedingly with their
bold and blasphemous language; neither did they refrain
from casting mud and mire at them, in order to defile
their beautiful garments which had been made white in
the blood of the Lamb.
Then was Inbred-Sin very earnest with the little ones
to turn into some of those convenient houses on the side
of the street, which are opened by the prince of Vanity
for the use of passengers, and provided by him with all
such accommodations as are agreeable to the flesh: in
return for which accommodations, however, no less is
required than the whole of a man's estate, both body
and soul, to be delivered up for ever to the prince himself.
Meanwhile the insults and threatenings of the mob
continued so to alarm the little pilgrims, that they looked
this way, and that way, like persons beside themselves,
not knowing what course to take. Playful was for following Inbred-Sin's advice without hesitation; while
Humble Mind looked as white as a sheet; but little
Peace notwithstanding the perplexing whisperings of
Inbred-Sin, continued instant in prayer-for the Lord
was with her-and as she held the hand of Playful, she
restrained her from turning into any of those houses of
entertainment in which Inbred-Sin would have had them




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            129
take refuge from the insults of the mob. All this while
the ungodly multitude ceased not to press upon the little
pilgrims, still pelting them with mire and dirt; insomuch that, with the heat of their onset and the violence
of their clamour, the discouraged travellers were nearly
overcome; and little Peace especially, being young and
of a tender constitution, though strong in the power of
the Lord, actually fainted and fell. At this, certain persons in the crowd, who were less hard-hearted than the
rest, cried out shame! Whereupon the throng giving
way, the child was lifted up and placed at the door of a
house near at hand; where her brother and sister stood
by her, chafing her temples and moistening her lips with
cold water, which some charitable person had brought
in a cup. And behold Inbred-Sin shrunk back at the
sight.
Now, as she lay fainting, I observed her sweet pale
face to change, as for death, while the cold sweats stood
upon her brow. Then I looked up -and called for help,
being exceedingly afflicted at the situation of little Peace.
But ere I could frame my lips to a prayer, behold, two
shining ones appeared in the east: whence they approached with an exceedingly swift motion, and rested in
the heavens over where the dying infant lay, waiting to
receive her spirit-but they who were below perceived
them not. Presently, the paleness left her face for a moment, when she looked affectionately at her brother and
sister, saying, " Sweet companions of mypilgrimage, I am
about to leave you: but I go to him who died for meto him who shed his blood for me upon the cross-to
him who loved me more than his own life-and he will
present me to himself without spot or stain of sin."
Then suddenly lifting up her eyes, she saw the pitying
angels, as messengers waiting to convey her home, and
holding in their hands the crown of glory which was
prepared for her, through the free grace and mercy of
her Lord. Then did all earthly scenes pass for ever
from her view wrapped together as a scroll-and at that
moment an internal struggle took place between heavenly joy and mortal anguish. She smiled in the agony
of death, continuing to look steadfastly at the angels
till her eyes became fixed and motionless; when she
breathed more and more slowly, till at length her fair
spirit, made pure through her Redeemer's blood, and
holy by his imputed righteousness, quitted her little
F3




130           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
languid body, resigning it to corruption and the worm
until that day when the trumpet shall sound, and when
that which was sown in corruption shall be raised in incorruption-that which was sown in dishonour shall be
raised in glory-that which was sown in weakness shall
be raised in power-and that which was sown a natural
body shall be raised a spiritual body. " 0 death, where
is thy sting    0 grave, where is thy victoryl The
sting of death is sin. But thanks be to God, which
giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."
I Cor. xv. 42-44, 55-57.
Then the holy angels who were waiting above, received her spirit in their arms, and bore her away to the
gates of heaven-and I saw her no more. Thus she
was delivered from Inbred-Sin, and from the devil, that
adversary of mankind, who, "as a roaring lion, walketh
about seeking whom he may devour." 1 Pet. v. 8. And
now she walks with God, high in salvation and the
climes of bliss; where she sees the King in his beauty,
and beholds the land which is very far off. Isaiah
xxxiii. 17.
So for awhile I could look no longer, by reason of the
tears which filled my eyes and obscured my sight:
nevertheless, I blessed God for delivering this little fair
one from all her spiritual enemies, as well as from all
the troubles and mischances of this present life. Then
perceiving that Peace could not dwell with vanity, I
applied to the little departing pilgrim these words of the
wise man-" She pleased God and was beloved of him;
so that living among sinners she was translated. For
her soul pleased the Lord: therefore hasted he to take
her away from among the wicked." Wisdom iv. 10, 14.
CHAPTER XVII.
As soon as I could wipe away my tears, I looked
after poor Humble Mind and Playful; and behold, they
had fallen down by the body of their sister, each holding
one of her pale cold hands; and there they lay like persons more dead than alive. And behold the noisy multitude had fled, terrified at the sight of death-for " the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           131
wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous
are bold as a lion." Prov. xxviii. 1.
Now, about this time, good Mr. Orthodox, of whom
mention hath been made before, received a letter from
the damsels of the palace Beautiful, entreating him to
have regard to certain little pilgrims, Humble Mind,
Playful, and Peace, who about that time were to pass
through the town of Vanity. For after the little ones
had left the palace Beautiful, Prudence said to her
sisters, " I am much afraid lest those little ones should
miss of the house of Mr. Orthodox, and carry our letters
to some other person; since there are several individuals, it is said, in the town of Vanity, who assume the
name of that worthy and discreet pastor. I therefore
advise that we write another letter to Mr. Orthodox, and
send it by some trusty person, entreating him to look
after the young pilgrims." So, the damsels approving
what Prudence suggested, the letter was written in
haste, and Mr. Watchful, the porter, charged with providing a fit person to carry it.
On the receipt of this letter, good old Mr. Orthodox
lost no time in making diligent search after the little
ones: when he shortly found Humble Mind and Playful,
as I before described them, lying beside the body of
Peace. After being much affected at the sight of so
pitiable a spectacle, Mr. Orthodox caused Hunlble Mind
and Playful to be lifted up and carried to his wife, whose
name was Bountifil, and who he well knew would spare
no pains to administer unto them every consolation of
which their situation was capable. He ordered also the
body of little Peace to be raised from the ground, and
conveyed to his house; where it was placed in a fair
chamber, from whence it was removed at a convenient
time, and buried according to the custom of Christians in
those parts. Mr. Orthodox likewise caused a fair white
monument to be placed over the body of the little pilgrim,
in order that such young persons as should in future visit
her grave might be encouraged, by the example of
Peace, to trust in the same adorable Saviour who enabled that little saint to stand fast unto the end.
Upon this monument was the following inscription:_
REMEMBER
PEACE,
WHO DIED IN THE SEVENTH YEAR OF HER AGE;




132          THK INFANT'S PRORESES.
Choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than tc,
enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.
Hebrews xi. 25.
Thou didst make me hope when I was
upon my mother's breasts.
Psalm xxii. 9.
Now I saw in my dream, that Mr. Orthodox and his
wife, Mrs. Bountiful, used their utmost endeavours to
comfort Humble Mind and his sister; for which purpose
they kept them in their own house, and used them very
tenderly; so that, after a while they were enabled calmly
to listen to such words of consolation as Mr. Orthodox
thought suitable to their state.
I perceived then that this pious man arranged his
motives of comfort under two heads: first, the gain
accruing to little Peace herself from her death; and secondly, the benefit which her brother and sister might
reap from their present affliction. And first, he spoke
of the gain which little Peace herself had made. " She
was," said he, " a poor and helpless orphan, wandering
in the wide wilderness of this wicked world, as a hart
upon the Mountains of Leopards. Her body was liable
to sickness, pain, and death; while Inbred-Sin was the
close, the intimate,. though I trust the abhorred, companion of her steps. He was inseparable from  her.
And as she found it impossible to escape him; so you well
know  that she could have no solid rest or ease, by
reason of this internal tormentor. Her blessed Saviour
had indeed called her, and separated her from those who
are the willing slaves of Inbred-Sin: nevertheless, though
her only hope was in the merits of her Saviour's death,
yet Inbred-Sin was continually interrupting her intercourse with that dear Redeemer. But now!" continued
Mr. Orthodox, " being set free from sin, her union with
the Saviour is rendered complete!-she dwells for ever
with him!-yea, she is built up as a polished corner,
stone in the church triumphant, of which he is the
foundation!
"Happy Peace! her warfare is finished, and she is
made more than conqueror. She mixes with that rejoicing multitude who stand before the throne and before
the Lamb, clothed in white raiment, and having palms
in their hands; of whom  it is said,'These are they
which came out of great tribulation, and have washed
their robes and made them  white in the blood of the
Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God,




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            133
and serve him day and night in his temple; and he that
sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.' " Rev. vii.
14, 15. Thus Mr. Orthodox described the happiness of
little Peace in the ears of her brother and sister. In
the next place, he proceeded to point out the benefit
which Humble Mind and Playful might receive from their
present affliction. He remarked that the human race,
having fallen from their first estate of innocence and
glory, in which they appeared as the children and companions of God, it had become necessary, in order to
their salvation, to deal with them in a manner totally
different from that which their heavenly Father would
have used, had they preserved their original innocence.
" You are thoroughly impressed," said Mr. Orthodox, " I
trust, with this one mighty leading truth, which unless a
man has received, he is no better than a heathen;
namely, that' there is no salvation in any other' but the
Lord Jesus Christ; and that' there is none other name
under heaven given among men whereby we must be
saved.' Acts iv. 12. You are, I trust, also convinced, that
all who are brought to Christ, and united with him, will
certainly be saved: because such persons become one
with Christ and he with them; he is the head, and they
are the members. In these views the humble Christian
has everlasting happiness and eternal glory ensured to
him: for if one member suffer, all the members of the
same body must suffer; and if one member be honoured,
all the members of the same body must be honoured.
I Cor. xii. 26.
" Now," continued Mr. Orthodox, "although there is
but one name by which sinners can be saved, and but
one Holy Spirit whose office it is to bring sinners unto
Christ; yet that Spirit is found to work with different
individuals in different ways. Among which different
methods this is one-that as the earth is generally prepared for the seed which is afterward to produce fruit
by the plough, the spade, and the harrow, which tear up
its rugged bosom, making it soft and tender; so the
stony heart of man is often broken up by affliction, and
rendered soft by sorrow, in order, with the divine blessing, to fit it for the reception of the divine Word.
Therefore, my children,' despise not ye the chastening
of the Lord, nor faint when ye are rebuked of him; for
whom  the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth
every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening
God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he




134           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
whom the father chasteneth not I But if ye be without
chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. Furthermore, we have had fathers
of our flesh, which corrected us; and we gave them
reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto
the Father of spirits and live 1 For they verily for a few
days chastened us after their own pleasure; but he for
our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness.
Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous,
but grievous: nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the
peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them  which are
exercised thereby. Wherefore lift up the hands which
hang down, and the feeble knees."' Heb. xii. 5-12.
In this manner did Mr. Orthodox reason with and
comfort the little pilgrims: till, by God's blessing upon
his pious endeavours, their grief became greatly mitigated.  Nevertheless, Humble Mind received comfort
sooner than Playful, and for this reason, because his
heart was more in heaven than the heart of his sister.
On this account, as well as from the consideration that
the present world is not our resting-place, he became
gradually reconciled to the idea of a temporary separation
from his beloved Peace. But Playful seemed inclined, for
a considerable time, to murmur and complain, on being
deprived of her lovely little sister; while she allowed
Inbred-Sin to suggest many impatient, and evil thoughts
to her mind on that occasion.  Not daring, however, to
make an open discovery of her feelings, she kept InbredSin's communications on this subject as secret as possible from Mr. Orthodox.
Now I saw, in my dream, that while the little pilgrims
remained in the house of Mr. Orthodox, this worthy gentleman took Humble Mind under his special care and
tuition.  He also requested his wife, Mrs. Bountiful, to
do the same by Playful, and to take the child with her
whenever she went to visit and teach the poor: for
Mrs. Bountiful, as became the wife of the minister Orthodox, was ever mindful of the poor, being, like Dorcas,
"full of good works." Acts ix. 36.
So Playful began to help Mrs. Bountiful in these labours of love; in which she shortly became so engaged
that shedhad less time and inclination to listen to the
evil suggestions of Inbred-Sin. Moreover, Mrs. Bountiful gave her many lessons concerning those duties
which especially belong to females; on which occasions
she was accustomed to catechise her after this manner.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           135
Mrs. Bountiful. In a few years, my daughter, you
will be no longer a child, but will exchange that condition for woman's estate. Now, whereas it is appointed unto all persons once to die, and after that the
judgment, it is of great consequence to us to know
what manner of life God willeth us to lead in the different states unto which he hath called us: tell me, therefore, my child, are there any points in which the duties
of men and women differ?
After some consideration, Playful answered; " Men
are commanded to preach, and women to be silent, in
the churches-' Let the woman learn in silence with all
subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor
to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence."'
I Tim. ii. 11, 12.
Mrs. Bountiful. How should wives behave to their
husbands!
Playful. "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own
husbands, as it is fit in the Lord." Col. iii. 18.
Mrs. Bountiful. If it be the duty of a woman to obey
her husband, how careful should a believing woman be,
not to join herself with an unbelieving man! But supposing that a woman be already unfortunately married
to such a one, in what way must she try to bring him
over to the solid profession of Christianity'
Playful. "Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to
your own husbands; that if any obey not the Word,
they also may without the Word be won by the conversation of the wives; while they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear." I Pet. iii. 1, 2.
Mrs. Bountiful. What is said of those women who
love pleasure T
Playful. " She that liveth in pleasure is dead while
she liveth." 1 Tim. v. 6.
Mrs. Bountiful. When women forget Christ, what
kind of habits do they commonly fall into l
Playful. "They learn to be idle, wandering about
from house to house; and not only idle, but tattlers
also, and busybodies, speaking things which they ought
not." 1 Tim. v. 13.
Mrs. Bountiful. In what manner should women adorn
themselves.
Playful. "In like manner also, that women adorn
themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness
and sobriety; not with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls,




136           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
or costly array: but (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works." 1 Tim. ii. 9, 10.
Mrs. Bountiful. You have answered well, my child.
" I learned these things," said Playful, " of the holy
ladies in the palace Beautiful: but when I should afterward have called them to mind (sinner that I was!) I
totally forgot them." Then I saw that Playful wept.
Mrs. Bountiful. Come, my child, " forget those things
which are behind, and reach forth unto those things
which are before." Phil. iii. 13.
Playful. I remember part of a sweet psalm, which
we used to sing in the palace Beautiful, of which my
sad miscarriages now remind me" Happy are they, and only they,
Who from thy presence fear to stray;
Who know what's right, not only so,
But seek to practise what they know."
Mrs. Bountiftl. Well, my dear child, if the faults you
have committed serve to make you humble, it is well..
With this view it was, no doubt, that the Lord left you
to yourself for a little while; as it is written-" That
thou mayst remember, and be confounded, and never
open thy mouth any more because of thy shame, when
I am pacified towards thee for all that thou hast done,
saith the Lord God." Ezek. xvi. 63.
I saw then that Mrs. Bountiful asked Playful if she
could mention some of those good works, which seem
to be particularly required of women T
" I think," said Playful, "I could tell some few of
them; yet would I rather hear them from you."
Mrs. Bountiful. There are two duties which more especially lie upon women; first, that of bringing up
children, and secondly, that of relieving the afflicted.
And whereas the necessities of infants and those of
the sick are twofold, a woman should learn to administer to both, otherwise she does but half her duty towards such persons.
Playful. Dear madam, I do not understand you
exactly.
Mrs. Bountiful. To explain my meaning more fullyEvery infant is formed of two parts; the immortal soul
and the little tender body. If either of these is neglected, injury, if not ruin, must be the consequence of
such neglect. A woman, therefore, who takes the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           137
charge of an infant, should not only know how to make
its clothes, to administer its proper food, to comfort and
cherish it, and, under God, to preserve its health; but,
since we are all born in sin, she should also know how,
as its sense increases, to correct its evil tempers, and
lead it into that knowledge of God which is eternal life.
Sick and afflicted persons likewise often require the
same attention as infants: nourishing food and comfortable clothing must be provided for their bodies, while
their poor weak minds should be drawn towards God
by holy conversation, prayer, and pious reading. I
would, therefore," added good Mrs. Bountiful, "have
young females, from their tender youth, to store their
minds with such chosen portions of Scripture, together
with such pleasant and profitable histories of pious persons, as are calculated to excite the attention of children and sick persons of all ages and all degrees, to the
great work of their own salvation. They should also
learn to sing such sweet psalms and hymns as may
sooth infants to sleep, or compose the uneasy minds
of the sick. They should moreover labour to become
patient, self-denying, long-suffering, kind, gentle, and
courteous; since all these qualities are necessary to
form  a good and tender nurse. Females should also
early be taught to make cheap and convenient clothing
for the needy, as well as to prepare wholesome, simple,
and economical dishes for their occasional support and
comfort. And, lastly, they should learn to dress themselves in a decent, cleanly, and modest manner, with as
little expense as possible of that precious time and those
other talents which must hereafter be accounted for at
the judgment-seat of Christ."
Now the conversation of Mrs. Bountiful was very
pleasant to Playful, who endeavoured to store up in her
heart the instructions of that excellent woman.
I saw also, in my dream, that, when the minds of the
children became more composed, and their grief a little
abated, Mr. Orthodox showed them, from time to time,
such things as were worthy of notice about his house
and his church.
One day in particular, I observed that he took them
into a large room adjoining to his church, where many
persons were engaged in printing; and the types which
they used were those of every language under the sun.
Now at the door of this room there stood many.per



138          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
sons, who received the books as soon as they were
printed, and ran off with them, in order to disperse
them through the different districts of the city. Then
inquired the children, " What are those books V'
Mr. Orthodox. They are all copies of the one great
Book of Life; even that same book by the reading of
which you found your way hither, and by which I trust
you will also find your way to a better home. And I
have orders from my Master to distribute these books
through every street of the city.
Then I saw that Mr. Orthodox took one of the books
in his hand, and said, "This holy volume, my dear
children, containeth all things the knowledge of which
is necessary to salvation: so that whatsoever is not read
therein, or may be proved thereby, ought not to be required of any man to be believed as an article of the
faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to salvation.
And here you must carefully note that by the term
Holy Scriptures we understand those canonical books
of the Old and New Testament of whose authority
there was never any doubt in the church." (See 6th
Article of the Church.)
Now the young pilgrims remained many days with
good Mr. Orthodox and Mrs. Bountiful; where they increased in stature and in favour with God and man. At
length the period approached, at which they were to proceed on their pilgrimage. But before they departed
Mr. Orthodox led them into his church, and caused them
there!to receive the holy sacrament of the body and
blood of Christ; explaining unto them how "that the
Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed,
took bread: and when he had given thanks, he brake it,
and said, Take, eat; this is my body, which is broken
for you; this do in remembrance of me. After the
same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped,
saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood: this
do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me. For
as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do
show the Lord's death till he come." 1 Cor. xi. 23-26.
Moreover, before they departed, he would have them to
visit the grave of Peace: for " it is better to go to the
house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting;
for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay
it to his heart." Eccles. vii. 2. So Mr. Orthodox and
Mrs. Bountiful led the way, and the children followed.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           139
Now, when they came to the grave, and read the
name of Peace upon the fair white monument, and the
verses, which Mr. Orthodox had caused to be graven
underneath, Humble Mind looked very pale, and Playful began to weep. Upon which Mr. Orthodox said,
"Wherefore are you sorrowful! If you loved your
sister Peace, you ought to rejoice; because she is gone
to her heavenly Father."
So Playful wiped away her tears.
Then spake Mr. Orthodox, as he stood by the grave,
"Hearken unto me, my children. You have been often
taught, and I hope have many times sensibly felt, that
having received forgiveness of sins through the Lord
Jesus Christ, you have become one with him, as he is
one with the Father; according as it is written-' At
that day ye shall know that I am in my Father, and you
in me, and I in you.' John xiv. 20. This mystical
union," continued Mr. Orthodox, "between Christ and
his children, is a doctrine not only held altogether in
contempt by the world, but it is a doctrine which even
many who are constant comers to my church cannot receive; and for this reason, because they love the world,
and cleave to it, though it be a stranger and an enemy to
the Spirit of truth.
" Now this mystical union," added the good man, " is
neither a fancied nor a figurative thing, but a sacred
reality. When you were joined to Christ, my children,
sin lost its absolute power over you; the Holy Spirit at
that time entered your hearts, and you became temples
of the living God. 1 Cor. iii. 16. Christ is the head of
all believers, and believers are his members; so that a
Christian hath no power to do any one good thing, but
through the help of the Holy Spirit, which he receives
as a member of Christ. Through faith the believer is
enabled to bring forth the fruits of righteousness; by
faith he is strengthened in the inner man: and when he
fails to seek the help of the Spirit, he becomes weak and
faint as other men, and perhaps falls into grievous sins,
as was the case with King David.
" Our little sister," continued Mr. Orthodox, "whose
body lies inithis grave, was, through the grace of God,
born again in Christ, and made a new creature, many
months before her death, as we have abundant reason
to believe from her orderly and even course, as well as
from the delight she took in communing with her God,




140          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
She must then have been a true member of Christ-for'the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide
in the vine' (John xv. 4); and therefore is her salvation sure."
"Now understand, my children," continued he, " that
our mystical union with our great Head is not destroyed
by death; but we are as near to Christ, and as much a
part of him, when lying in the grave and in the dust, as
when living on the earth. For it is written,' Whether
we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we
die unto the Lord: whether we live, therefore, or die,
we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ both died,
and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the
dead and living.' Rom. xiv. 8, 9. In this grave, therefore, and under this little white stone, lies a part of the
mystical body of Christ,-a member belonging to the
Divine Head. All that remained of sin and corruption
in this mortal body is now destroyed-for'except a
corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth
alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.' John
xii. 24. But the better part of this your dear sister still
remains; and at the last day, when the trumpet shall
sound, she will be raised up, and joined for ever to her
glorious Head.' When Christ, who is her life, shall
appear, then shall she also appear with him in glory..'
Col. iii. 4. For while in the flesh, she received forgiveness of sins through the Redeemer; and having been
justified by him, she will be also glorified (Rom. viii. 30),
and shall stand with him to judge the world. 1 Cor.
vi. 2. Therefore, my dear children, grieve no more for
your beloved Peace, but rejoice that she was enabled to
fight the good fight of faith; and'abide ye in the Lord
Jesus Christ, that, when he shall appear, ye may have
confidence, and not be ashamed before him  at his
coming (1 John ii. 28): but that ye may have boldness
in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are his
children.'" 1 John iv. 17.
Now the time was come for the children to depart.
So Mrs. Bountiful prepared for them such things as she
thought might serve for their refreshment by the way;
while Mr. Orthodox, taking them aside, knelt down with
them and prayed, saying, " Plead thou the cause of these
little ones, 0 Lord, with those that oppose them, and
fight thou against them that fight against these. For
the eyes of these pilgrims are unto thee, 0 God the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           141
Lord, and in thee is their trust. Let the souls of these
thy servants be precious in thy sight. Leave them not,
neither forsake them, 0 God of our salvation! Many
are the afflictions of the righteous: but thou deliverest
them out of all. The Lord conduct these youthful travellers safely on their way, and bring then at length to
his holy hill of Zion, even to the place which he loveth.
Praies the Lord i"
Thus prayed the holy Mr. Orthodox: after which he
rose up and kissed the children. Then Humble Mind
and his sister being fully prepared for their journey,
Mr. Orthodox and his wife thought it proper to see
them safe out of the town. So having passed the populous parts of the city, and reached the skirts of the
town, Mr. Orthodox and Mrs. Bountiful again kissed the
young pilgrims, and returned to their house.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Now it came to pass, when Mr. Orthodox and Mrs.
Bountiful had taken their leave of the little pilgrims at
the gates of Vanity (for it suited not the convenience
of these excellent persons to accompany them farther
on their journey), that Humble Mind and Playful proceeded along the suburbs for some time, weeping as
they went: and Inbred-Sin was with them.
I had remarked that Inbred-Sin kept himself very
quiet in the house of Mr. Orthodox.  Not that he
refrained from his secret whisperings and evil suggestions; but only that he took unusual care to avoid every
open breach of decency or good manners: insomuch
that, notwithstanding their former experience of his
deceit on like occasions, the young pilgrims were inclined to hope, and almost to believe, that he had really
become so much weaker that they should never again
be so harassed by him as in former days. And thus
many persons, far more experienced and advanced than
these little pilgrims, have frequently been deceived with
respect to their victory over sin; when, by certain outward circumstances, such as the failure of health, the
influence of holy society, or some other restraining




142         THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
consideration, they have experienced a temporary relief from the tormenting~ of their inbred corruptions:
till, being thrown off their guard, by vainly supposing
themselves no longer liable to the baneful influence of
their sinful tendencies, they have presently fallen again
into the snares of the enemy. So great is the deceptive power of sin; and on this account it is that the
Lord of pilgrims exhorts his people to watch continually.
But to return to the little pilgrims.
I hoped to see them presently freed from the suburbs
of Vanity. But I perceived, much to my surprise, that
those suburbs extended along the Way of Salvation to
a great distance, and that, like the city itself, they were
set forth with all manner of enticing delights; especially
with summer-houses and pleasure-gardens, abounding
with fruit of various kinds-not such as grew in the Interpreter's garden, or in the fields of innocent pleasure;
but fruits of an intoxicating and poisonous tendency,
and partaking of the nature of that tree whereby our
first parents acquired the knowledge of evil.
Now the odour of the fruits and flowers which grew
in these gardens seemed to be particularly sweet and
exhilarating to Inbred-Sin; for he no sooner began to
snuff it, than he stepped forward, and walking in a line
with the little pilgrims (a liberty which I had not observed him to take during the whole time of their residence in the house of Mr. Orthodox), he began to give
his opinion in a very free and familiar manner. And
this he did without asking permission, well knowing that
such a request would only put the little pilgrims upon
their guard; whereas it was probable that, on taking
them by surprise, he might carry his point, as many an
unhappy point is carried in the world. So, stepping
forward, he began to speak with an impudent and unblushing face; for Inbred-Sin cannot blush, neither can
he be disconcerted or diverted from his purpose: and
hence it is said, that they who are ruled by him, to wit,
" the children of this world, are wiser than the children
of light." Luke xvi. 8. First, he began to compliment
and congratulate the little pilgrims upon their escape
from the dangers of Vanity. And this he did through
deceit; that, lulling their fears to sleep, he might the
more easily succeed in beguiling their minds. For,
although they had passed safely through the high places
and chief streets of the city, he was well aware that




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            143
many snares and dangers awaited them in the suburbs
and outskirts of Vanity   "You have," said he, addressing himself to them both, " fought a good fight, and obtained a great victory; nothing therefore now remains
but to give thanks for this victory."
To this Humble Mind replied, " Let us at least wait
till we are wholly clear of this City of Vanity, before
we sing the song of triumph."
" But," said Inbred-Sin, " are you not already clear of
the city l We see nothing here but gardens and summer-houses-places to which the inhabitants of the
town retire to refresh themselves in the summer-season
with innocent pleasures and rural sports. Surely here
can be no snares laid for pilgrims, nor any employments
or pleasures of which they may not innocently partake."
" I desire to know no pleasures," returned Humble
Mind, "except such as are to be found in the presence
and service of Him who was nailed to the cross for my
salvation; but as for the pleasures of the world, I will
have nothing to do with them. These are the pleasures
for which thousands and tens of thousands of immortal
creatures, being ensnared by such as thou art, thou child
of hell, have given up the favour of their heavenly
Father, and the love of their Redeemer. For these they
have renounced the joys of heaven; eternal youth, immortal health, everlasting peace, the society of saints
and angels, together with a crown that fadeth not away:
in exchange for which they have received nothing but
pain, and death, and everlasting destruction from the
presence of the Lord." Then Humble Mind read these
words from his book-" The heart of the sons of men
is full of evil; madness is in their heart while they live,
and after that they go to the dead." Eccles. ix. 3.
I perceived that about this time the little pilgrims had
come to a place where was a house of entertainment,
which projected its sign quite across the Way of Salvation, bearing the emblem of a youth crowned with rosebuds. And behold, in the court of this house a number
of young people were gathered together, dancing, singing, and quaffing wine from golden cups. Then did
Inbred-Sin direct the eyes of the pilgrims towards the
young persons within the court. Moreover, he made
them observe the emblem upon the sign, saying, "Come
on, therefore, let us enjoy the good things that are
present; and let us speedily use the creatures like as




144           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
in youth. Let us fill ourselves with costly wine and
ointments; and let no flower of the spring pass by us:
let us crown ourselves with rosebuds, before they be
withered: let none of us go without his part of our voluptuousness: let us leave tokens of our joyfulness in
every place: for this is our portion, and our lot is this."
Wisdom ii. 6-9.
Now I heard that Humble Mind did a second time
rebuke Inbred-Sin; but Playful sighed. Upon which
Inbred-Sin spake again; and being somewhat encouraged by Playful, he ventured to arraign the Most High
in the ears of the little pilgrims, saying, that he, was a
hard master, and that he required more from his young
servants than ought in reason to be expected from them.
Moreover, he spake of the happiness of the men of this
world, "whose bellies," said he, "are filled with hid
treasure: they are full of children, and leave the rest
of their substance to their babes." Psalm xvii. 14.
To this Humble Mind answered, "' I will not fret myself because of the ungodly, neither will I be envious
because of the workers of iniquity.' Psalm xxxvii. 1.
I desire' rather to suffer affliction with the people of
God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.'"
Heb. xi. 25.
I saw then that Inbred-Sin grew extremely wroth at
being thus opposed. Whereupon he cried out, with
more than usual audacity, " I love the pleasures of this
world: and you, Humble Mind, being my property and
my slave, shall love them also, even though you renounce heaven itself for their sake."  So he stepped
round, and set himself in defiance before Humble Mind,
saying, "You shall proceed no farther till you have
solaced yourself in these courts of pleasure, drinking
of their costly wines, and eating of their delicious
fruits. For this once, on so trivial an affair, I will not
be refused; and especially since, on more important occasions, you have already proved yourself a traitor to
the King whom you pretend to love."
Then did Humble Mind tremble exceedingly. I also
felt some alarm on his account, when I perceived a certain evil spirit, whom I knew to be the prince of the
power of the air, approaching with an eye of malice
fixed upon Humble Mind (though the boy knew it not),
and beginning to raise enchantments, for the purpose
of inthralling the spirits and senses of the young pil



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           145
grim. And my alarm was increased on observing that
the youth began to feel the effects of those enchantments; for his colour came and went. Nevertheless,
he was not wanting to,himself on this trying occasion;
for he fell on his knees, and lifted up his hands in
prayer: and his earnest supplication was immediately
answered, according to the words of the promise" Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou
shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am." Isaiah lviii. 9.
And behold a bright and glorious spirit descended from
on high, which, drawing near to the young pilgrim, shed
a part of its heavenly glory and vigour upon him.
Whereupon the youth sprang up, and seizing Inbred-Sin
with an irresistible force, he cast him to the ground;
where, after trampling him beneath his feet till he lay
like one dead, the intrepid pilgrim passed on his way,
drawing his sister along with him.
So they went on till they had got clear of the suburbs
of Vanity, Humble Mind still drawing Playful forward,
who seemed to move heavily along, as though she hankered after the pleasures of Vanity. Nevertheless, her
brother had power given him to persuade and prevail
with her to choose the better part. And behold, InbredSin had not only risen from the ground, but was by this
time close upon their heels again; although, for the
present, he judged it best to let Humble Mind alone.
The young pilgrims therefore proceeded on their way
till the approach of night; when they came to a little
hill, thrown up in the King's highway by his enemy the
prince of Vanity. This hill is called the Hill of Regrets, and it is scattered over with little sharp stones,
which prove very uneasy to such pilgrims as ascend it.
Now about half-way up the hill was a covered arbour,
built at the suggestion of the prince of Vanity, placed
with its back to Mount Zion, and its face towards the
town. Here Inbred-Sin persuaded Playful to solicit her
brother that they might turn aside and spend the night
in that arbour; to which Humble Mind consented, as
the evening was far advanced, not considering that a
house whose aspect was not towards Mount Zion could
never afford suitable accommodation to pilgrims. Nevertheless Humble Mind consented; and they went into
the arbour, where they reclined themselves on certain
soft and commodious couches, with which the prince of
VOL. V.-G




146          THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
Vanity had furnished the place, in order to tempt travellers to seek repose there.
So the young pilgrims, being seated at their ease,
began to converse; and Inbred-Sin, notwithstanding his
late defeat, placed himself by their side and entered
into discourse with them.
Now it is the peculiar property of Inbred-Sin, as I
think I have elsewhere remarked, to turn every event
in the life of a Christian, however apparently unpropitious to himself, to the advancement of his own purposes; and it is marvellous with what address he does
this, and how exactly he suits his discourse and his
temptations at such seasons to the tempers and circumstances of those he has to deal with. On the present
occasion he began with bitter self-bemoanings, as one
who had been beaten almost out of heart; after which
he went on to compliment Humble Mind upon the spirit
andvalour he had evidenced in their late contest. "Upon
my word, Humble Mind," said he, " you did play the
man indeed, and brought me, as it were, to the very last
gasp; and that without human assistance."
"But, undoubtedly," replied Humble Mind, "I was
helped from on high; for I well know that no man can
deal with Inbred-Sin without Divine help."
"True," said Inbred-Sin; "it is certain that no man
can conquer me without special help from on high.
What an evidence then is this of your being highly favoured and peculiarly gifted from above!" He then
spake many words tending to fill the youth with spiritual
pride: and I was sorry to observe that Humble Mind
listened to him with much self-complacency.
And behold, as the night came on, the city which was
spread out before them was lighted up with many lights.
Now the City of Vanity is so contrived as to present a
very fair show towards the Hill of Regrets, where stood
the arbour in which the young pilgrims were then sitting. And it has often happened that young pilgrims,
ay, and aged ones too, after having withstood all the
allurements of the city, and advanced to this hill-it
has often happened, I say, that by looking back from
this arbour, they have been tempted to return unto
Vanity, to the destruction both of soul and body.
I saw then in my dream that Inbred-Sin, having ob-'tained some advantage over Humble Mind, thought he




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.           147
might advance a step farther, and even venture to propose to the young pilgrims an immediate return to the
City of Vanity; " for," said he, " our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a man there is no remedy: neither was there any man known to have returned from the
grave. For we are born at all adventure: and we shall
be hereafter as though we had never been: for the
breath in our nostrils is as smoke, and a little spark in
the moving of our heart: which being extinguished, our
body shall be turned into ashes, and our spirit shall vanish as the soft air, and our name shall be forgotten in
time, and no man shall have our works in remembrance;
and our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and
shall be dispersed as a mist that is driven away with
the beams of the sun, and overcome with the heat
thereof." Wisdom ii. 1-4.
Much as I had known of this Inbred-Sin, I could not
but here marvel at his assurance in thus addressing
Humble Mind. I wondered, in the first place, at his
presuming to make any such a proposal; and I marvelled still more at his addressing him as though he had
been a downright unbeliever, and destitute of all religious feeling: but my amazement was still greater to
find that Humble Mind, who had been enabled to contend so victoriously with him in the morning, should
now sit quietly listening to his dangerous suggestions.
Neither do I know what might have been the result of
this weakness on the part of Humble Mind, had not the
Prince of pilgrims very unexpectedly provided for his
assistance.
CHAPTER XIX.
Now it had pleased the Lord to occupy the thoughts
of Mr. Orthodox, as he was walking back to his own
house, with the dangers which awaited the young pilgrims in the suburbs of Vanity: in consequence of
which, on his arrival at home, he directed one of his
most trusty servants to follow them on the way as far
as to the hill before described. And behold, this worthy
man came up to them just as Inbred-Sin was delivering
G2




148          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
his opinion in the manner above mentioned. Whereupon he addressed the young pilgrims by name, asking
them what they did in that place.
I saw then that Humble Mind and Playful, at the
sound of his voice, sprang up from the place whereon
they sat; when Humble Mind replied, " We turned in
hither for a single night's lodging, and hope that we have
not sinned in so doing."
" Do you not see," said the servant of Mr. Orthodox,
"that the back of this arbour is placed towards Mount
Zion, and its face towards VanityL  And do you not
remember Lot's wife, who was turned into a pillar of
salt for looking back upon Sodom when commanded to
flee from that city! My master and his servants are
under orders to abide awhile in the City of Vanity; not
indeed to partake of its pleasures, but to execute the
work allotted them by the King of kings in that place.
But for you it is ordained otherwise; you are commanded to hasten forwards, and you will find it written
in your book,' Turn away mine eyes from beholding
vanity; and quicken thou me in thy way."' Psalm
cxix. 37.
The young pilgrims then thanked him for his rebuke,
while they expressed their gratitude to Mr. Orthodox
for his attention in sending after them so trusty a messenger. Upon which they arose and followed the man;
who led them along the Way of Salvation till they came
to a very deep valley: into which they had not descended many paces before they entirely lost sight of
the town of Vanity, notwithstanding all the blazing
lights with which it was illuminated.
Now I perceived that a sort of shuddering came over
Humble Mind and his sister, as they entered this valley;
for the air of it was sharp and cold, a solemn silence
reigned through it, and the rocks on each side shot up,
as it were, to the clouds. Many yews and cypress
trees grew also thereabouts, through which the wind
whistled in an exceedingly melancholy manner. Then
said Humble Mind to the servant of Mr. Orthodox,
" What is this valley! for I have not seen in all my pilgrimage a more dismal place, excepting the Valley of the
Shadow of Death."
"This valley," replied the servant of Mr. Orthodox,
"is" no more to be compared to the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, than the vestibule of heaven is to be




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            149
compared to the gates of hell. The Valleyof the Shadow
of Death is a place in which the soul is bereaved of all
divine consolation, where the Lord hideth his face, and
causeth the believer to pass through a state of painful
separation from himself. Yea, in that valley are sometimes felt, in a degree, the very torments of hell itself,
which consist, we believe, in an eternal separation from
God. So that, could a man in the Valley of the Shadow
of Death be surrounded by earthly pleasures of every
description, he would still find it a hell; because God
being the fountain of all true happiness, not even a single drop of real comfort can be tasted where he is
absent. But the valley into which we are now entering
is called the Valley of Adversity; and it hath been sunk
in this place by the express command of the King himself, that pilgrims, in travelling through it, may utterly
lose sight of Vanity. This valley, moreover," continued he, "though stripped of every earthly comfort,
abounds in such pure and spiritual delights, that many
experienced pilgrims, after passing through it in a right
frame of mind, have been constrained to say, It is well
for us that we have been in trouble. Notwithstanding
which," added the messenger,  I never knew any one
descend into the Valley of Adversity, without shuddering and trembling as you now do."
"Indeed, sir," said Playful, "I cannot wonder that
any one should tremble in descending into this valley;
for never, indeed, did I see so gloomy a place. Here
too I find that all the afflictions of past days are brought
to my recollection; and especially the loss of my little
Peace, which is as present with me at this moment as
if it had happened but yesterday. Neither is there any
thing at hand to divert my thoughts from these sad remembrances: but wherever I turn my eyes, they encounter only emblems of sorrow and mourning."
Then said the servant, " The evening is now far advanced, and you must needs be much fatigued; let us
therefore sit down in this place, and endeavour to take
some repose."
So sitting down by the way-side, they there produced
some of the refreshments given them by Mrs. Bountiful.
But when they sought water, they could find only an
exceedingly bitter stream, which flowed from a neighbouring rock.
I heard then that the messenger began to reason with




150           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
them on this disappointment, and to declare the salutary
effects which sometimes flow from the bitterest dispensations of Providence; when being deprived of other
comforts, the soul is led to seek those consolations for
which it had not the slightest desire in more prosperous
circumstances. " By these means," continued he, "do
pilgrims in the Valley of Adversity acquire the habit of
communing with God, and fixing their affections on
things above; while their spirits are refined and sanctified, through the blessing of God upon their earthly
affections: thus'tribulation worketh patience; and
patience, experience; and experience, hope."' Rom.
v. 3,4.
"But do you think, sir," said Humble Mind, "that
afflictions must necessarily be endured in order to salvation V"
"Affliction," replied the messenger, " may be used as
an outward means to bring us into closer union with
Christ: but, without the Divine help, it can profit us
nothing. For unless the blessing of God be upon our
trouble, it will rather harden and irritate, than fit us for
the reception of truth. In proof of which, as you travel
along this valley, you will see the graves of many who,
having refused comfort where alone it could be found,
at length despairingly put an end to their own lives, and
were buried by the way-side as a warning to others."
After this, the servant of Mr. Orthodox proposed that
they should all go to prayer, in order that, before they
slept, they might seek consolation from above. They
addressed themselves therefore to prayer, and continued
for some time calling upon their Saviour, earnestly supplicating him to undertake their cause, and appear as
their Advocate with the Father-when behold, while
they yet called upon their Redeemer, a " light rose in
obscurity, and the darkness was as the noon-day." Isaiah
lviii. 10. Then looking up to the heavens, they were
favoured with the same kind of glorious vision which
caused the martyr Stephen to exult even in the agonies
of death. So they gazed till the tears gushed from their
eyes; and as they gazed they exclaimed, " It is good for
us to be here; and here we could remain with thee for
ever, O Lord, our refuge in time of affliction (Jer. xvi.
19):' for thou hast lifted up the light of thy countenance
upon us;' yea,' thou hast put gladness in our hearts.' 
Psalm iv. 6, 7.




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           151
Then said the messenger, "Did I not tell you what
things were to be expected in this valley  and how
blessed those times often prove in which we enjoy the
fewest earthly comforts 1"
Thus the young pilgrims continued looking upwards,
and talking with the messenger, till their hearts becoming warm with the love of God, they rejoiced with joy
unspeakable and full of glory. And now they were
enabled to speak even of the death of Peace in the language of cheerful hope, though not indeed without sheding tears of tenderness. " Our little Peace," said Humble Mind, " was everywhere my sweet companion and
my friend. She lay in my bosom through all the nights
of our pilgrimage; and as she slept her little arms embraced me. Nevertheless I am now enabled to give
her up without a murmur; inasmuch as I know that she
is at home and at rest in the presence of her heavenly
Father."  " Where," added Playful, " we shall shortly
meet her again, never more to be separated; and where
she, and we, and our beloved parents shall dwell together, rejoicing before the throne of our adorable
Saviour. "
Then I heard that Humble Mind broke into a transport of praise, saying, " Our beloved Saviour'is white
and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. His eyes
are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed
with milk, and fitly set. His countenance is as Lebanon,
excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet:
yea, he is altogether lovely."' Sol. Song v. 10, 12,
15, 16.
In this manner they continued conversing together,
and occasionally meditating upon the glorious vision
they had enjoyed, till sleep overcame them; for they
had travelled far that day, and their repose was sweet
unto them.
They remained asleep till day-dawn: and no sooner
did they awake, than they began to relate their dreams
to each other, and behold, they were the same. In
their sleep theythought that Peace came and stood immediately before them: and she was all fair; there was no
spot in her. Sol. Song iv. 7.  And she called to them,
and spake to them; and her words were like " a very
lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice." Ezek.
xxxiii. 32. "Weep not for me, nor bemoan me, sweet
brother and sister," she said; "but watch over yours




152          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
selves, lest you should by any means dishonour your
holy profession. When the Lord took away my breath,
my mortal part went down into the dust, but my spirit
was carried by the angels into my Father's bosom. I
have received the crown of righteousness-all tears are
wiped from my eyes-I am' arrayed in fine linen, clean
and white' (Rev. xix. 8.); and the Lamb hath presented
me to himself without spot or stain of sin. Mourn not
for me, beloved companions of my pilgrimage on earth;
but mourn for your sins, lest by them we should be separated for ever.' For godly sorrow worketh repentance
to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of
the world worketh death.' " 2 Cor. vii. 10.
Now, while Humble Mind and Playful yet rejoiced in
their sweet dream, behold, the messenger of Mr. Ortho.
dox called upon them to rise and gather the manna,
which then lay thick upon the ground-thicker indeed
than the little pilgrims had seen it in any part of their
journey, saving under the cross and in the Valley of
Humiliation: so the children presently filled their golden
pots, and betook themselves to their journey. But,
before they set out, the messenger took his leave, say.
ing that he had already staid beyond his appointed
time, and that his master's business required his speedy
return.
" What!" said Humble Mind, " must you go and leave
us in this valley l" The messenger, however, having
convinced them that his return was absolutely necessary, they opposed it no further, but allowed him to depart without another word.
I saw then, in my dream, that the young pilgrims
continued to descend deeper into the valley during the
whole day. But although their way was indeed very
dismal, I observed that they were so refreshed by the
manna which they had gathered in the morning, and
with which they continued to regale themselves through
all the hours of the day, as well as with the remembrance of their cheering dream, that they no longer
heeded the doleful objects which were everywhere presented to their view. Now through all the valley were
scattered cypress-groves, tombs, open graves, decayed
and gloomy edifices, sandy and salt wastes, black and
fetid pools, precipices, and pitfalls; and on a certain
spot in the very bottom of the valley there was a flock
of vultures, with other unclean birds, feeding on the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           15/
corpse of one who, not being able to endure the gloomy
scene around him, had endeavoured to put an end to his
misery by rushing uncommanded into the presence of
his Maker. The only plants which grew in this valley
were such as wormwood and rue, with a few other
bitter herbs. Nevertheless, amid all the disheartening
appearances with which they were surrounded, the little
pilgrims proceeded on their way, from  morning to
night, not only without uttering a single complaint, but
" blessing God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; who comforteth pilgrims in all their tribulation."
2 Cor. i. 3, 4.
Thus they continued their journey till night; when
they quietly laid themselves on the ground, and soon
fell fast asleep. So I observed the young pilgrims as
they slept: and behold, Inbred-Sin was busy as aforetime
at their ears, and his whisperings seemed greatly to
disturb them, for they often started in their sleep. Nevertheless, their sleep was heavy, so that they did not
awake till the sun was high. And behold, on opening
their eyes and looking around, they perceived that the
manna, which had lain thick about them at the dawn,
was now melted away; upon which they began bitterly
to lament their slothfulness.  Moreover, they endeavoured to refresh themselves with some of the preserved fruits and other good things which they had
brought from Mr. Orthodox. But this food, being now
dry and stale, did not afford them such nourishment as
they used to derive from the bread which cometh down
from heaven, to wit, that sacred manna which has been
the appointed food of pilgrims from time immemorial.
The young pilgrims then arose to prosecute their
journey; and Inbred-Sin, being in high spirits, ay, and
much at his ease (as he generally is with such persons
as rise too late in the day to have leisure for their usual
devotions), walked side by side with the pilgrims, and
soon entered into discourse with them. And first, he
found fault with the length of the valley, with its dismal appearance, its extreme solitariness, and the bleakness of the air which blew through it; and not being
rebuked by his companions, he ventured even to speak
certain words of dissatisfaction against the Most High,
for directing the path of his servants through such
dreary scenes.
G3




154          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
I perceived then that the spirit of cheerfulness and
holy resignation which had supported the young travellers during the past day, forsook them entirely while
they sinfully hearkened to the words of Inbred-Sin.
Whereupon they began not only to loiter in the way,
but, after a while, to stand perfectly still; when InbredSin ventured to propose that they should turn back immediately to the town of Vanity. But although Humble
Mind dreaded to proceed any further in that dismal valley; yet he foresaw the danger- of turning back. He
therefore stood demurring, while Inbred-Sin pressed and
urged him to return without delay; Playful all the while
weeping, and hanging about him, wishing in her heart
that he would consent to do so, though not presuming
to solicit him.
Now, having always observed that whenever InbredSin could bring the young pilgrims to hesitate, or to
parley with them on any point, he was sure to carry the
day; so 1 now expected every moment to see them turn
their backs on Mount Zion. And this, no doubt, would
have been the case, had not the Lord sent them timely
assistance.  For behold, while Humble Mind and his.
sister stood thus sinfully demurring with Inbred-Sin, a
company of pilgrims came along the way from the town
of Vanity, with their faces towards Mount Zion. And as
they walked, they beguiled the solitary way with songs
of praise.
This party consisted of a middle-aged matron, of a
comely and decent appearance, with two little damsels
of very tender age. And behold, the elder pilgrim led
the younger ones by the hand, supporting their steps
lest they should stumble: for the way in this place was
as rough and uneven to the foot as it was unpleasant
and forbidding to the eye.  Nevertheless, there was
nothing of discontent or dissatisfaction in the countenances of these pilgrims. They had happily learned in
whatever situation they were, therewith to be content;
and could therefore travel through the Valley of Adversity with cheerful countenances; because their
affections, especially those of the elder pilgrim, were
set upon things above, and not upon things on the earth,
Now I saw in my dream  that when these pilgrims,
the elder of whom was called Martha, and the two
young ones Grace and Truth, came near to Humble
Mind and his sister, they stood still, while the matron




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            155
thus addressed them:-" Wherefore, my young pilgrims," said she, " for pilgrims I see you are by your
white garments, and the impress of our Lord's signet
upon your forehead,-wherefore do you stand still, with
your faces, as it were, turned from Mount Zion l Having come thus far on your journey to the blessed country, surely you cannot have a thought of turning back!
Or perhaps you are offended, as many have been before you, with this Valley of Adversity; supposing,
though falsely indeed, that they only who are Christians are liable to affliction in the flesh. Whereas,'man
is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward' (Job v.
7); insomuch that he who would escape it must needs
leave the world itself."
I saw then that Humble Mind and Playful looked
ashamed on being thus addressed by the stranger pilgrim; when Inbred-Sin whispered to them that they
should deny having had any thoughts of returning. So
they replied to the pilgrim Martha, " We have had no
thoughts of returning; but are only standing a while to
rest ourselves, before we proceed on our journey."
" My children," said Martha, "I am unable to look
into your hearts, and, being but a stranger, I have no
right to question you upon your delay. There is One,
who is a Discerner of the thoughts and intents of the
heart, to whom you must be accountable: nevertheless, as it is not yet noon-day, be advised by me, and
proceed on your journey without further delay. Wherefore should you linger in this valley T is it so agreeable
a place that you should desire to abide in it.'Look
at the generations of old, and see: did ever any trust
in the Lord and was confounded. or did any abide in
his fear, and was forsaken 1 or whom did he ever despise that called upon him  "' Eccles. ii. 10.
The pilgrim Martha then proposed that they should
join company, and go on together; to, which she was.
the more inclined, as she was a lover of little children,
and had great delight in leading them along the way of
holiness.
Now Humble Mind and Playful in some respects liked
this proposal, perceiving that the stranger was a person
of an agreeable countenance; for although she appeared
grave, as it becometh a pilgrim to be, yet her manner
withal was very pleasant. Moreover, they liked the
aspect of little Grace and Truth; and especially asthe




156         THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
features of Truth somewhat resembled the well-remembered features of little Peace. Nevertheless, InbredSin supposing that the company of these pilgrims would
not be favourable to his cause, endeavoured as much as
possible to put Humble Mind upon rejecting Martha's
invitation. She, however, would take no denial, fully
persuaded that her company might be advantageous to
the young pilgrims; on this account she pleaded hard,
and at length prevailed. So Humble Mind and his sister
consented to go on with the unknown pilgrims.
I saw then, in my dream, that Humble Mind soon
found himself peculiarly refreshed with the society of
the pilgrim Martha.  I hearkened therefore to their
discourse as they walked on; and behold, they beguiled
the time by relating to each other the events of their
pilgrimage, and the dealings of the Lord with them.
Humble Mind and Playful first related what had befallen
them in the way: after which Martha thus began:"I am," said she, " in common with all others of the
children of Adam, a native of the Valley of Destruction,
and my heart was' in bondage under the elements of
the world.' Gal. iv. 3. Even those dear friends whom
I had received from the Lord, my husband and children,
proved but so many ties binding me down closer to the
world. I was truly dead in sin, and even pleaded my
earthly comforts as excuses for my worldly mind.
Nevertheless, the Lord in his infinite mercy called me
to himself; and that in as peculiar and tender a manner
as the mother adopts towards her sucking child; neither
was this call used only once or twice, but many and
many times repeated, while I remained deaf to its importunity."
I heard then that Playful interrupted Martha, in order
to put this question, to wit, What she meant by the calls
of the Almighty l whether she was to understand by
them a voice from heaven, or any other miraculous interference l
To which Martha replied, that she presumed not to
say, that, even in these days, none were called in a
somewhat extraordinary manner; but with respect to
herself, no means had been used which could be called
miraculous or out of the usual course of God's dealings with his servants.
" Nevertheless," said she, "this is certain-not only
that every event of my life has been ordered by the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           157
Almighty Ruler of all things for the advancement of my
spiritual good; but that, after being once awakened from
the death of sin, I was made to hear the voice of God
in every event that befell me. Still, however, I felt a
strong attachment to the world; and more especially to
my husband and my two sweet babies, from whom my
chief domestic comforts flowed. My home was then
my gourd, under the shade of which I delighted to
dwell; but when it pleased the Lord to prepare a worm
to smite my gourd, I became distressed above measure.
My husband was first removed from me. He became a
pilgrim, and, like little Peace, in a short time fulfilled a
long time; when being made white in the blood of his
Saviour, he passed through the river of death, and is
now rejoicing in the house of his Father above.
" Being deprived of this my beloved companion," said
Martha, " I clung more fondly to my children. \ But the
Lord was pleased shortly to remove these also; thus
bereaving me totally of my dearest earthly comforts,
and causing me to forget the days of my prosperity.
And now, in this season of adversity, the Lord revealed
himself to my soul in such a manner as effectually to
overcome all resistance. He drew me towards himself
with the cords of love, compelling me to seek rest in
his presence,'to the praise of the glory of his grace,
wherein he made me,' the chief of sinners,'accepted
in the Beloved.' Ephes. i. 6.
" Hereupon I quitted my native place, even the Valley
of Destruction; and having entered in at the gate
which is at the head of the way, I have come thus far
on my journey towards my heavenly Father's house."
CHAPTER XX.
Now it came to pass, that when the pilgrims had
travelled for some days through the Valley of Adversity,
the country became more open and pleasant; soon after
which they came out from the valley upon a pleasant
plain, scattered over with clumps of trees, affording a
delightful shade. The air on this plain, though fresh,
was not so piercing as in the Valley of Adversity, while




158          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
all the surrounding objects wore a cheerful and lightsome appearance. Then I looked after the pilgrims,
and saw  that Humble Mind walked first with little
Truth; for Humble Mind loved the little girl exceedingly,
fancying that he discovered in her some resemblance to
his beloved Peace: and I heard that he endeavoured to
instruct her, as he had been accustomed to instruct his
departed little sister.
After proceeding thus for a while, Inbred-Sin crept
softly up to the ear of Playful; when I immediately became alarmed for the consequence, though unable to
imagine what kind of mischief could be brought out of
their present circumstances-not considering that Inbred-Sin is never at a loss how to produce evil, and that
he is a workman capable of effecting great things with
few or no apparent materials. So Inbred-Sin, as I said,
drew up close to Playful, and whispered something in
her ear; upon which, she fell back behind the other pilgrims, for the purpose of meditating at leisure upon the
whisperings of the tempter. Then said Inbred-Sin,
fetching a course about, as his manner often was before
he came to the point at which he aimed, "Tell me,
Playful, do you not love your brother above all the world
besides 1"
"Certainly I do," said Playful.
"But do you imagine," replied the other, " that he
has an equal regard for you V"
" I always thought so," said Playful.
"You thought so, because your heart is good, and
free from suspicion," returned Inbred-Sin: " but cannot
you recollect that he generally showed a preference for
your sister Peace, and that he more frequently conversed with her than with you."
" If he loved Peace more than he loved me, he did
but what was right, and I cannot blame him," said
Playful; "for my beloved little Peace was more lovely
than I am, and more worthy the regard of those who
are taught to prefer that which is excellent."' That may have been so far true," said Inbred-Sin,
"as to form some excuse for your brother's loving
Peace better than he loved you. But what excuse can
be made for his preferring the company of Truth to that
of his only sister?"
" I have no reason to think that he does, so," said
Playful.




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.           159
"Do you not perceive then," said Inbred-Sin, "how
he seeks her company at all times, and how frequently
he shares his morsel with her 1 And even now," continued he, " see how he leads her by the hand, and bends
his ear to her prattle."
Here I perceived that the poison began to work
Playful's cheek grew flushed, and her eye began to kindle with anger: nevertheless she stood her ground a
little longer, and made this reply-" If my brother prefers the company of yonder little stranger to that of his
only remaining sister, does it not become me, as a follower of our meek and lowly Master, to bear this seeming neglect without murmuring 1 nay, and even to return
love for hatred T"
" Assuredly," said Inbred-Sin, who could talk religion
whenever it suited his purpose, even while he was.
seeking to undermine it, " assuredly it is your duty, if
need be, to forgive your offending brother, not only seven
times, but seventy times seven: nevertheless I see no
occasion why you should bear every affront he chooses
to put upon you, when perhaps, by a single word, you
might bring him back to a more attentive behaviour."
I heard then that Inbred-Sin proceeded to place the conduct of Humble Mind in a still stronger light, till he had
gradually wrought Playful into such a humour as prepared her for the commission of any kind of folly that
could be proposed to her.
Inbred-Sin then, perceiving his advantage, was not
long before he actually proposed what at another time
she would have started from  with abhorrence, but
which now, by reason of the ill state of her mind, she
closed with immediately: this proposal was, that she
should turn her back upon the whole company, ay, and
upon Mount Zion itself, directly setting her face as if
she intended to return. This indignity she was to put
upon her King, by way of testifying, as Inbred-Sin expressed it, the great displeasure she felt at her brother's
marked neglect. Without therefore considering the
consequences of so unreasonable an action, she turned
herself about, and began to measure her steps back
again.
Now Playful meant nothing more, when she turned
about, than to recall the attention of her brother, and to
exercise her power of tormenting him: but when InbredSin had influenced her thus far, it was not in his nature




160           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
to stop there. No sooner therefore did he see her with
her back towards Mount Zion, than he began to whisper
in her ears expressions of contempt for the religion of
Jesus; outrageously railing at a pilgrim's life, and setting before her the advantage she would derive from an
immediate return to the town of Vanity. And to such
lengths did he proceed that I could hardly believe my
own ears; never supposing it possible that he could exercise such power over the heart of a regenerate person, as now appeared evident. So Playful hearkened to
Inbred-Sin: and how long or how far he might have
misled her cannot easily be determined, had not the
other pilgrims who had gone forward about a stone's
throw before they perceived her defection, disturbed her
communications with the tempter by calling to her
aloud. Whereupon she came to a sudden stand: yet
would she not make any movement towards them.
I heard then that the pilgrims called earnestly to her
to come on; and Humble Mind was on the point of
running back to her in order to persuade her to reconsider her ways. But the pilgrim  Martha would not
allow him so to do, saying that not even to save a brother was it lawful for a pilgrim to turn his back on
Mount Zion. Humble Mind, therefore, having nothing
in his power but prayer, I saw that he prostrated himself on the ground in earnest intercession for his sister.
And while he made his request known to God in the
name of his Saviour, behold, the pilgrim Martha and
the two little ones joined in his importunate supplication.
Now I saw in my dream that, while the pilgrims
were engaged in prayer, behold, the Evil One, who is
ever going about seeking whom he may devour, having
discovered the advantage which Inbred-Sin had obtained
over Playful, judged this a suitable time for the successful exertion of his own superior influence. So
drawing near to the young pilgrim, without her perceiving it (because, being a spirit, he is invisible to eyes
of flesh), he began, as aforetime, to practise his enchantments. And first, by a process which I could not understand, but by which it is well known one spirit can
act upon another, he began to entice and entangle the
affections of Playful, setting before her the many pleasures which she might enjoy in the City of Vanity,
could she be prevailed upon to give up a pilgrim's life




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.          161
and return thither. And behold, when he had in some
measure excited her affections and inflamed her imagination with the delusive pleasures of sense, he caused
his servants (for he was accompanied by several of his
ministering spirits) to throw certain invisible bands
around the limbs of the young pilgrim; by which he
directed them to draw her back with a gentle force.
And behold, the young pilgrim gave way as the enemies
applied their strength; insomuch that, unless assistance
were given from on high, it appeared to me that she
would assuredly be lost; there seeming to be no power
of resistance left in her, nor indeed even so much as the
will to resist, or to call out for help.
But while I looked on, I perceived one coming along
the King's highway, who held in his hand a whip of
small cords. And behold, he came up close to Playful,
whom he first sharply rebuked, and then sorely chastised. Whereupon, starting up as from a deep sleep or
trance, she suddenly broke all the ligatures with which
the enemy had bound her. And behold, as she continued to feel the lash which was appointed to correct
her wanderings, she hastily turned her back on the City
of Vanity, and fled forward till she reached the place
where the other pilgrims were anxiously tarrying for
her. So she happily escaped for that time.
Then did Humble Mind and Martha receive her joyfully. Nevertheless Martha reproved her, but with
maternal tenderness; taking occasion, from her late
apostacy, to point out to her the exceeding weakness
and frailty even of regenerate persons-that even the
best are continually liable to fall into gross and grievous
sins; that whosoever is saved is saved by grace alone;
and that no man can in his own strength do any thing
towards the advancement of his own salvation. "For
the condition of man," said she, " after the fall of Adam
is such, that he cannot turn and prepare himself by his
own natural strength and good works to faith and calling upon God; wherefore we have no power to do good
works pleasant and acceptable to God without the grace
of God by Christ going before us, that we may have a
good will, and working with us, when we have that
good will."  (See 10th Article of the Church.)
"According to this view of things," said Humble
Mind, " it is marvellous how any man can be saved."
"Marvellous, indeed!" returned Martha: "but what




162          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
is impossible with man is possible with God. And
hence it is written-' Let us hold fast the profession of
our faith without wavering; for he is faithful that
promised.'" Heb. x. 23.
Now I saw in my dream that Playful remained for
a while much dejected after her heinous transgression,
and greatly humbled. Moreover, through the painful
views she had of her own exceeding sinfulness, she was
led to look more to her Saviour than she had done in
the former part of her pilgrimage, and thereby to make
a more rapid growth in grace. Thus was the malice
of the enemy defeated, through the infinite mercy and
wisdom  of God, who by his overruling providence
brought good out of evil, in the same manner as honey
was once produced from the carcass of the lion.
After this, I saw that the company of pilgrims went
on their way till they came to a pleasant river, called
the River of the Water of Life, by which their road lay,
and where grew many green and shady trees, producing
a rich variety of sacred fruits. And as the pilgrims
passed along, they took of the fruits and drank of the
water; upon which their hearts were filled with joy and
peace unspeakable. In this place also the elder pilgrims held much sweet discourse together, while the
little ones enjoyed their innocent play in the meadows:
neither would any of the pilgrims, at this time, allow
Inbred-Sin to disturb their minds. For though he was
as busy as usual, whispering in the ear of one and another, yet they were all enabled by the Holy Spirit to
watch against his wiles, and to say, "The Lord rebuke
thee." Jude 9. So Inbred-Sin here obtained no advantage against them, though he was unwearied in his attempts to prevail. As night drew on the pilgrims arrived
at a place in which many lilies grew; where laying
themselves down to rest, they slept as sweetly as they
had done in any part of their pilgrimage.
For several days they travelled through these pleasant
meadows; where I observed that the pilgrim Martha continually laboured with the young ones, in order, as much
as in her lay, to bring them into a nearer acquaintance
with their Saviour. And she took great delight in
speaking of this dear Saviour, describing the manner
of his birth, his life, his death, and pointing out some
of the most remarkable passages of his pilgrimage upon
earth. She spoke much also of his tender love to pil



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.          163
grims, weeping often over those wounds of his by which
sinners are healed, and that voluntary death of his by
which the dead are restored to life. Martha was indeed as a mother to all the younger pilgrims, and they
were to her as so many sons and daughters.
At length they reached a place where the way separated itself from the pleasant meadows and trees. At
this the children complained; but Martha admonished
them contentedly to go straight forward, although the
way might not appear inviting. So they went on without
murmuring; while, in order to pass the time profitably,
they had recourse to their books. And so deeply were
they engaged in this employment, that they passed by
the stile and path leading to the ruined castle of giant
Despair without even perceiving them.
Now, towards sunset, Humble Mind, looking up, said,
"Behold, I see far away certain beautiful blue hills directly before us."
Martha. Those are the Delectable Mountains, upon
which our Lord's shepherds dwell. We have made a
considerable progress to-day; and if we do as well tomorrow, we shall reach those mountains before night
comes on.
Then were the little pilgrims pleased; for they had
heard much of the Delectable Mountains, and had letters
of recommendation with them from Mr. Orthodox to the
shepherds who dwell there. So they continued their
journey till it was dark, without heeding their weariness: and they were up the next morning before sunrise to proceed on their way, so impatient were they to
reach the Delectable Mountains.
Now early in the morning it was pleasant to feel the
breezes, fraught with all manner of fragrant odours,
which descended from the flowery sides of the mountains. At length the pilgrims saw the sun rising behind
the lofty range of hills which lay eastward of them;
and as it ascended above them, the pilgrims could distinguish the little dwellings of the shepherds scattered
here and there among the hills, with their hanging gardens and their sheep-cotes: they could also hear at intervals the pipes of the shepherds, and the bells of the
flock. Then Humble Mind looked into a map of the
road, which Mr. Orthodox had given him, in order to
find the names of the hills, by which he soon distinguished Mount Marvel, Mount Caution, and Mount Error




164          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
(the latter of which lieth to the left, somewhat out of
the direction of the Way of Salvation), together with
Mount Sabbath, which rose beyond the rest of the hills
towards the Celestial City, rendering itself observable
by its extraordinary elevation.
Now Humble Mind was in better spirits here than ever
I saw him in all the course of his pilgrimage. So
the pilgrims hastened forwards: for though they were
exceedingly foot-sore, yet their spirits sustained them.
And as they approached the mountains, they could distinguish orchards, olive-yards, vineyards, and gardens
abounding with every kind of vegetation: crystal fountains, where the flocks were washed and watered; and
shepherds feeding their sheep. But the way was so
steep that they were minded to rest themselves a few
minutes before they began to ascend the hills.
Now the shepherds Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere had been informed by one who watched
his flock on the side of Mount Clear, that a company
of pilgrims were on the road, and that the party consisted chiefly of little children.  In consequence of
which information, the good shepherds lost no time in
ordering a wagon to the foot of the hills, furnished with
every suitable accommodation, and well stored with provisions, there to wait the arrival of the pilgrims for their
easier conveyance to the shepherds' houses.
This wagon therefore was waiting at the foot of the
mountains when the pilgrims came up, intending there
to halt for very weariness. Then came the wagoner, a
careful old man, to Martha, whom he thus bespake:"Welcome, worthy pilgrim, to the Delectable Mountains! and welcome, all ye, my sweet babes! By my
masters' orders I have brought this wagon to assist you
up these hills to the abodes of the shepherds. And as
you will find in this carriage all manner of accommodations, there is no occasion for a moment's delay in
this place.'
Upon which they all got into the wagon, the old man
lifting in little Grace and Truth: and it proved a very
seasonable assistance to these almost exhausted travellers. And as they moved, the bells of the horses began
to ring; for the horses had bells, and on those bells was
written, " Holiness unto the Lord." Zech. xiv. 20. So
they proceeded up the hills, eating of the fruits and




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            165
bread which the good shepherds had sent them, as they
went along.
Playful then spake: "Well, this is very pleasant; this
exceeds all that we have before met with in our pilgrimage. Had we been so much discouraged in the Valley
of Adversity as not to advance to this place, how ill
we should have done!"
Martha. We should have done as all those do who
trust not in God-very foolishly and very wickedly.
Then cried Humble Mind, " 0! what lovely cottages,
what fair pastures, and quiet resting-places do I see!
How very delightful is this place!"
"Look at those lambs feeding near the waterfalls!"
cried little Grace.
" And behold that flock of sheep which is going up
from the washing!" said Playful.
" Those sheep," said Martha, " are fed in a good pasture, and their folds are upon the high mountains of
Israel: for the Lord hath sought them out and' delivered them out of all places where they were scattered
in the cloudy and dark day.' Ezek. xxxiv. 12. In like
manner," said she, " has the Lord sought us out, and
brought us to this place, showing himself our guide and
protector through every part of our pilgrimage." Then
sang the pilgrim, for her heart was full of holy joy and
gratitude: and the children also joined in the song:"Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry,
We're travelling through Immanuel's ground
To fairer worlds on high."
By this time they drew near the shepherds' houses;
when behold, Watchful, Experience, and Sincere were
coming forth to meet them. And the shepherd Watchful saluted them with these words:-" Peace be unto
you, ye children of the King."
Then said the shepherd Experience, "'Fear not,
little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give
you the kingdom.' " Luke xii. 32.
The shepherd Sincere next spake, " Welcome, thrice
welcome are you, 0 ye redeemed of the Lord, to the
Delectable Mountains!"
I saw then that Martha, having alighted from the
wagon, bowed low before the shepherds, and said,
"' How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of




166           THE INFANt'S PROGRESS.
them that bring good tidings, that publish peace; that
bring good tidings of good, that publish salvation; that
say unto Zion, Thy God reigneth! " Isaiah lvii. 7.
When the whole party had descended from the wagon,
the shepherds said to the little ones, " Welcome, welcome, pretty babes! you have made a prosperous journey, and are far on your way to the Celestial City. Of
the thousands that set out on pilgrimage, there are but
few who reach this place."
Then I saw that Watchful and his companions conducted them into the house, and led them into a fair
large hall, where a long table was preparing for their
evening repast. Now from the windows of this hall
much of the neighbouring country was to be seen, presenting so beautiful and charming a prospect as could
scarcely be equalled in the whole world. Here, therefore, while the pilgrims stood feasting their eyes, the
shepherds went abroad to see their flocks safely folded
for the night. After which, supper was immediately
served up, when they all sat down to meat, giving
thanks to their great Benefactor.
On finishing their evening meal, the children became
heavy with sleep; whereupon the shepherds said, " Since
the little ones are beginning to look towards their beds,
we will have prayers without delay, and then show them
to their chambers. And on the morrow, when their
spirits and strength are recruited, we hope to have
some conversation with them-for we long to know
what they have met with in their pilgrimage."  The
shepherds then called an old female servant, of whom
they were very fond, named Hospitality, who forthwith
conducted the pilgrims to their several chambers, consisting of two comfortable rooms adjoining each other;
the larger one for Martha and the little girls, and the
lesser one for Humble Mind. So they retired to rest,
and were presently fast asleep.
Now at break of day, after listening for a while to the
bleatings of the sheep upon the hills, they got up refreshed and cheerful: and having thanked God for
bringing them to so desirable a place, they went down
into the hall.
Being all met at breakfast, I heard that the shepherds
entered into discourse with the pilgrims concerning
their pilgrimage. On this subject the shepherds had
many interesting questions to propose; to all of which




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            167
when the pilgrims had satisfactorily replied, the shepherds spake thus —"Happy indeed are you in having
come so far on your journey; since this is not the lot
of all who look with some desire towards the Hill of
Zion: for'strait is the gate, and narrow is the way,
which leadeth unto life; and few there be that find it.'
Matt. vii. 14. There are even many that shall seek to
enter therein, and shall not be able. Let us therefore,"
said the shepherds one to another, " offer thanks unto
God on account of these pilgrims, for that he has assisted
them by his grace to reach Immanuel's Land-this
happy land, from which the Celestial City may be seen
-and these unwithering pastures, where the flocks of
our Lord do securely feed, and where we his shepherds
dwell in peace and joy."
I saw then that the shepherd Experience, addressing
himself to the pilgrims, and more especially to Martha,
said, " My beloved children, had you not met with those
afflictions which you have just reported to us, and of
which you cannot speak without letting fall the tears of
human weakness-you perhaps had not now been thus
far on your journey; nay, in prosperity you might have
utterly forgotten the Lord, as many others have done.
But resolving to make you his own, he mercifully took
your treasures from you, and laid them up in heaven;
that where those treasures were, there your hearts
might be also. Matt. vi. 21.'For whom the Lord
loveth he chasteneth. Wherefore lift up the hands
which hang down, and the feeble knees: and make
straight paths for your feet. For you shall assuredly
come unto Mount Zion, and unto the city of the living
God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable
company of angels, to the general assembly and church
of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to
God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made
perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant.' "
Heb. xii. 6, 12, 13, 22-24.
After this the shepherds spake of the shepherd Sincerity, the Interpreter, and Mr. Orthodox, saying, " We
are all brethren, the servants of one common Master,
and are all employed, in our different stations, about the
same great work, namely, feeding the flock, for which
our Redeemer was contented to be betrayed, given up
into the hands of wicked men, and to suffer death upon
the cross. We are constituted a universal, spiritual,




168          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
and living priesthood, having the sheep of the flock com.
mitted to our care from generation to generation. Moreover, we continue our priestly office without ceasing;
and shall continue it until the time when the universal
church shall ascribe dominion, and reverence, and
thanksgiving to the Lord of all lords, raised from the
dead, who dieth no more, and whose kingdom is an
everlasting kingdom. Then shall the borders of the
church be enlarged; the same church which you saw in
the City of Vanity, of which Mr. Orthodox is minister;
-she' shall break forth on the right-hand and on the
left; and all her children shall be taught of the Lord;
and great shall be the peace of her children. In righteousness shall she be established, and shall be far from
oppression.' For this church, although now but little,
is the espoused of the Lord-' Her Maker is her husband; and her Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel. He
will lay her stones with fair colours, and her foundations with sapphires: he will make her windows of
agates, and her gates of carbuncles, and all her borders
of pleasant stones.' Isaiah liv. 3, 5, 11-14. Yea, the
time shall come, and is near at hand, when her God shall
be called' The God of the whole earth.' Isaiah liv. 5.
And then will all the earth be like these happy mountains, every man living in peace and contentment' under
his own vine and his own fig-tree.' " Zech. iii. 10.
Martha then exclaimed, " 0 happy prospect! how my
soul longs for the time when all the kingdoms of the
world shall become like the pleasant hills on which we
now stand!"
Shepherds. They who understand the signs of the
times, have reason to think that happy period not very
far off.
Martha. Blessed, indeed, will that season be to those
who watch and wait for it!
Shepherds. Pray ye, therefore, that ye also may be
found watching.
Martha. I thank God, who by the chastisements of his
rod has in some measure compelled me to watch.
"And I too may thank God," said Playful, "who
caused me to feel the loving corrections of his hand,
when I was like to be lost."
Watchful. I exhort you still to persevere, watching
unto prayer: the danger is not past; the enemy is still
abroad. Inbred or original sin may be quiet a while; but




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           169
when occasion offers, he will certainly rouse himself
again, and entice you to that which is evil. Labour
therefore to "work.out your salvation with fear and
trembling." Phil. ii. 12.
Then said Martha, " We know that while we are at
home in the body we must be absent from the Lord. O
that we could be absent from these vile bodies, and
present with the Lord!" 2 Cor. v. 8.
"The Lord in his good time will grant you your
heart's desire," said the shepherds.
Breakfast being finished, the shepherds called the
pilgrims out to walk upon the hills, that they might
show them some of the wonders of the place. So they
pointed out to them all those things which they were
wont to show their guests. They led them first to a
place whence they had a clear view of Mount Error,
whose sides are so steep that in attempting to climb to
the top of it many have fallen and been dashed to
pieces. The shepherds also informed the pilgrims that,
if any of their sheep by chance strayed to that hill, it
was ten to one but they came to some evil end.
Now while they were looking thereon, there came a
company of brisk lads from the town of Vanity: and
being led on by one Conceit, they began to climb the hill
on the most dangerous side. Upon which the shepherds
called aloud to them, in order to warn them of their
danger. But, instead of heeding their cautions, the
strangers began to mock, calling the shepherds old fools,
with other like reproachful names: and then following
their guide towards the top of the hill-suddenly they
lost their standing and fell, and were dashed in pieces.
Whereupon Conceit returned the way he came: but the
pilgrims were much grieved.
I saw then that the shepherds took the pilgrims to the
top of Mount Marvel; where they showed them a beautiful hall, the walls of which were hung with numerous
pictures, exhibiting the marvellous works of Christ, and
describing the most extraordinary events of his life upon
earth, from his miraculous birth to his resurrection and
ascension into heaven. And as the pilgrims gazed upon
these pleasant pictures, their hearts were filled with
love, while their eyes overflowed with tears.
The shepherds next led them to the top of Mount
Clear; and bidding them look eastward, tSey asked the
pilgrims what they saw; who answered thus —"Far,
VOL. V.-H




170          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
very far away, we see a bright light, even the same light
which has guided us through all our pilgrimage: but we
can distinguish no particular object in the light."
I saw then that thq shepherd Experience drew a glass
from his pocket, to wit, the glass of Faith; and putting
it to his eye, he said, " By the help of this glass I have
sometimes discovered such things as cannot be described. But this happens not every day; nay, I must
confess that it rarely happens, and that those are precious seasons indeed when I can use. this glass to the
best advantage. The fault, however, I know well, is
never in the glass, but in my own eye." So the shepherd, having looked through the glass and seen that it
was properly set, he offered it first to Martha, and then
to the younger pilgrims, saying, " After what you have
just now seen, my beloved children, on Mount Marvel,
your eyes, I trust, are well prepared for the use of this
instrument."
The pilgrims then tried the glass. But what they saw
I know not: though they must assuredly have seen
something unutterable and exceedingly glorious; for
while their eyes were fixed, the fashion of their countenances changed, and shone, like that of Moses when
he descended from the mountain; but they knew it not.
Exod. xxxiv. 29.
The shepherds therefore, observing how delighted the
pilgrims were with the glass, and that they were able to
use it rightly, very cordially presented them with it, to
their unspeakable joy.  And thus the morning being
nearly worn away, the shepherd Watchful proposed that
they should return to the house.
Now, whereas it was ordained that the pilgrims should
remain a while on the Delectable Mountains, the shepherds appointed to each of them some suitable employment, having received a command from their King not
to permit any of the pilgrims who should visit them to
pass their time in unprofitable idleness. So they allotted
to Martha and the little girls the care of the dairy, with
such of the lambs as had lost their mothers; while Humble Mind went out daily with the shepherds, to learn of
them  the proper management of pastoral concerns.
Among other things, Humble Mind was taught to know
what herbs were useful for the healing of such wounds
or bruises as the sheep might chance to meet with-in
which pastures the finest herbage grew-and where the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            171
purest springs were to be found. Very speedily also he
learned the names of the sheep, with so much exactness
as easily to discover whether any of them were wanting. In short, I perceived that the boy was wonderfully
taken with a shepherd's life; insomuch that he resolved,
if spared to man's estate, that he would by God's good
pleasure become a shepherd. Moreover the pilgrims
here learned many of the shepherds' songs; and it was
most pleasant to hear them repeating those songs as
they walked among the hills in the cool of the day.
After the pilgrims had spent six days with the shepherds, early on the following morning there was a cry
among the shepherds of great joy-" This is the day
which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad
in it!" Psalm cxviii. 24.
When the children heard these words they were delighted, and ran to tell Martha: so they hastened to eat
their breakfasts and feed the lambs; after which they
went with the shepherds to Mount Sabbath.
Then I looked, and lo, the shepherds led the pilgrims
to a certain very high hill, around the foot of which was
a wall, within which wall no unholy thing was allowed
to come. Now the hill, even at a distance, looked wonderfully green and pleasant, fresh and beautiful: and
under the shadow of the wall, on the outside thereof,
lay many beasts of burden, enjoying the day of rest.
The summit of the hill was bright and glorious as the
sun; and within the walls, towards the lower part of the
hill, were many little dwellings with gardens among
groves of trees, pleasant lawns, flowery fields, and sunny
banks. Certain streams of water also, which took their
rise from the top of the hill, ran down among these
groves and gardens; which streams, as the shepherds
informed the pilgrims, were never dry, even in the hottest season. These waters, which are the waters of
mercy, after visiting every little habitation upon the hill,
afforded refreshment to the poor beasts which lay under
the wall.
Now I listened, and heard the sound of harpers harping with their harps from the higher parts of the hill,
with the voice of multitudes continually crying out,
"Glory, glory, glory to the Lord Jehovah!"
Then said the shepherds to the children, " Hear ye
those sacred songs which call us up unto the house of
the Lord,'with the voice of joy and praise, among the
IHI 2




172          THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
multitude that keep holy day' (Psalm xlii. 4); inviting
us'to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in
his temple' " Psalm xxvii. 4.
The pilgrims therefore gladly hastened forwards,
while the shepherds repeated, at intervals, their joyful
invitation, "Let us go into the house of the Lord."
Psalm cxxii. 1.
Now I saw that Playful and the two little girls, Grace
and Truth, were frightened when they came among the
beasts, and began to shrink back; which the shepherds
perceiving, spake thus, " Little ones, what do you fear!
Know you not that those poor beasts, having drunk of the
waters of mercy, are at peace with all mankind." Then
the children blushed, and came forward.
When the pilgrims had accompanied the shepherds
through the gate of admission to Mount Sabbath, their
eyes were delighted with a near view of the pleasant
lawns and woodlands, with the many peaceful dwellings
scattered among them. Each cottage had its garden, in
which grew pinks and violets, little bushes of fragrant
southern-wood, marjoram, and wholesome rue, with
other such humble and harmless plants as the Lord hath
prepared to adorn the dwellings of the poor; the sweet
odour of which was diffused through all the air. Every
house looked clean; while the inhabitants, who at the
sound of the bells were then stepping forth, old and
young, to visit the house of God, appeared cheerful and
healthy.
Now, as the pilgrims and shepherds walked along,
they met an aged couple coming out from a little garden
to go up the hill. The head of the old man was hoary,
and his wife wore a white veil. So the shepherds saluted the aged pair; and as they walked up the hill together, while their hearts burned within them, they fell
into sweet discourse about the mountain, and the happiness of those who dwell thereon.
This old man's name was Christian-Cheerfulness; and
as he looked upon the pilgrims, he saluted them thus" Right welcome are you, my children, to this holy
mountain! for blessed are they which call the Sabbath
a delight, the holy of the Lord, and honourable; not
doing their own ways, nor finding their own pleasure,
nor speaking their own words, but delighting themselves
in the Lord." Isaiah lviii. 13, 14. Then addressing himself to the shepherds, I heard him say, "' I am now an




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           173
old man, and have lived from my youth upon this hill,
where I never yet saw any of its inhabitants forsaken.
Peace and plenty are still found in the dwellings of the
righteous; for while they remember the Sabbath to keep
it holy, the Lord of the Sabbath remembers them for
good."
Now the voice of praise was heard more sweet and
loud, as the pilgrims ascended the hill: and as I looked
after them, my eyes were ravished with the lovely
scenes which presented themselves on every side. For
the Lord had planted on this mountain the cedar, and
the myrtle, and the oil-tree: he had set there the firtree, and the pine, and the box together: on this mountain also grew the rose of Sharon, and the voice of the
turtle never ceased from this peaceful land.
Thus the whole company went up as friends to the
top of Mount Sabbath, where they employed themselves
for a season in public prayer and praise in the temple of
God. And while they were thus engaged, my ear was
charmed with the sweet psalms and hymns which occasionally animated their sacred services, and which might
be heard at a considerable distance. So, having spent
a few hours in the heavenly exercise of prayer and
praise, behold, the gates of the temple of God were
again thrown open, when all the worshippers came out
in order to return to their respective habitations. And
I could not but remark what satisfaction and joy appeared in every countenance, while the little ones, in
their holyday garb, ran innocently sporting among the
flowers.
Now, as each family returned to its cottage, behold,
Christian-Cheerfulness would have the shepherds and the
pilgrims to turn in with him, and to partake of that
which was provided. So they turned in with him.
I saw then, that a table being spread under a cedartree in the old man's garden, his wife set on dinner.
First, she brought forth a dish of all manner of wholesome vegetables: upon which the old man remarked,
"A dinner of herbs where love is, is better than a stalled
ox and hatred therewith." Prov. xv. 17. After that, she
produced a dish of meat; together with milk and honey
for the little ones. So, when she had set the dishes on
the table, the shepherds would make her sit down;' And let the children," said they, "fetch what is wanted,
as is becoming."




174          THE INFANT S PROGRESS.
The good woman therefore sat down, while the children ran for what was required; and surely I neiver saw
a happier party. For Christian-Cheerfulness was a man
of so pleasant conversation, that he entertained the
company in a very agreeable manner; and particularly
he amused the little ones, who were wonderfully taken
with his pleasant discourse. But I perceived that the
company never once forgot that they were conversing
together on Mount Sabbath.
Dinner being over, the elder part of the company sat
talking, while the little ones walked into the woods to
gather flowers. Playful went with the young ones; but
Humble Mind staid with the elder ones, although he
took no part in their conversation, well aware that it
became him not to speak before his elders, unless first
spoken to. So as the evening came on they all returned
home to the shepherds' house.
Humble Mind and Playful remained many days with
the shepherds; where Martha was as a mother to them,
while little Grace and Truth were as their sisters.
Every seventh day theywent with the shepherds to Mount
Sabbath, always spending a part of the day with ChristianCheerfulness; who generally in the course of the week
returned the friendly visit, accompanied by his wife.
Thus many weeks passed happily away at this place 
nevertheless, when it was signified to the pilgrims that
they must continue their journey, they murmured not" for they desired a better country, that is, an heavenly:
God having prepared for them  a city." Heb. xi. 16.
But, before the pilgrims departed, the shepherds gave
them a map of the road, bidding them particularly to
beware of the Enchanted Ground.
Then asked the pilgrims, " What is the Enchanted
Ground!"
" It is that state," answered the shepherds, "in which
the flesh, that is, the unrenewed part, frequently prevails so far as to make the pilgrim slothful and secure,
neglecting for a season the exercise of grace. In some
cases the renewed part strives vehemently against this
stupifying distemper, applying at the same time for that
assistance which is promised in temptation-but,"''ontinued the shepherds, " there have been instances, and
those terrifying ones too, in which the flesh has prevailed to the destruction of both body and soul, and that
at a very advanced period of the Christian profession."




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            175
I heard then that the shepherds related several awful
instances of pilgrims, who had apparently held a prosperous course as far as the Delectable Mountains on their
way to Mount Zion, but, nevertheless,were finallylost on
the Enchanted Ground, upon the very confines of the
promised land-thus affording an awful example to
Christians how dangerous it is to confide in their own
strength.
"Awful, indeed!" said Martha: " and earnestly do I
pray that we, profiting by the failure of these miserable
persons, may walk in the strength of the Lord, and not
in our own!"
Then said the shepherds, "A wise man feareth, and
departeth from evil: but the fool is confident." Prov.
xiv. 16.
After which, the shepherd Watchful added this caution-" Exhort one another daily, while it is called today; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. For we are made partakers of Christ, if
we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast unto
the end." Heb. iii. 13, 14.
So the shepherds, having kissed and blessed the little
company, after conducting them a few steps on their
journey, returned to the hills to take care of the flocks
over which the Holy Ghost had made them overseers;
while the pilgrims went on their way.
CHAPTER XXI.
THEN looking after the pilgrims, I saw that Inbred-Sin
was with them; and he walked as one planning mischief. But the pilgrims held pleasant discourse one
with another, from time to time looking upon their books,
and meditating upon the contents of them.
Now I observed, in my dream, that, after a while, the
pilgrims came to a place where a certain way put itself
fnto the King's highway, which was to all appearance
as straight and even as the highway itself. This was
the place where certain pilgrims of old time had been
tur:Ied aside by the flatterer.  And here, just at the
junction of the two roads, sat a company of persons




176          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
dressed in pilgrims' habits, who were talking aloud and
corrupting each other with flatteries: nevertheless, as
they spoke a language nearly resembling that commonly
used by pilgrims, Humble Mind and his sister, at the private suggestion of Inbred-Sin, felt an inclination to acknowledge them as brethren. Now these persons were
of the number of those who love greetings in the market-place, and who make their prayers in the corners of
the streets. So they called to the pilgrims, inviting
them to join their company, and partake of such refreshments as they had.
But Martha said, " We are going for our lives to Mount
Zion; and as we do not just now stand in need either
of refreshment or rest, and as the sun is still high in the
heavens, we are unwilling to be delayed."
" But," said they who were sitting by the way-side,
"deny us not your company, which we believe will
prove exceedingly edifying to us, and profitable to our
salvation. For we know that you are persons highly
favoured of the Lord: and because your fame has
reached us from far, we have come hither on purpose to
meet with you."
" Well," said Inbred-Sin in the ear of the younger pilgrims, "this appears to be a goodly company, and their
words are full of wisdom."  But Martha said, " Meddle
not with them that flatter with their lips." Prov. xx. 19.
So the children, being influenced at that time by the
Holy Spirit of God, hearkened to the voice of Martha
and passed on.
I heard then that those who sat by the way called
after them aloud, uttering such cruel taunts and reproaches as brought up the blood into the faces of
the pilgrims. Upon which Humble Mind and Playful
thanked Martha for her advice: " For," said they, " we
being children, and foolishness being bound in our hearts,
we should surely have entered into the society of those
ensnaring strangers, had you not given us a caution."
" Hence," said Martha, " the folly and sin of those
who flatter young children: for if neither strength nor
wisdom is to be found in the heart of the most advanced
and venerable pilgrim, how  much less in that of a
child!"
The pilgrims then went on till night, when they came
to a grove of cedar-trees beside a pool of water. This
place appeared so exceedingly agreeable, that the trav



THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           177
ellers sat down upon the grass, and partook of that
which they had with them: after which they looked
upwards and gave thanks.
Now I saw in my dream that, while they sat on the
grass enjoying the sweet solitude of the place, behold,
two pilgrims advanced towards them along the King's
highway: of whom one was an aged woman, and the
other a boy about the age of Humble Mind. So they
sat still till the pilgrims came up, when they addressed
them thus: " If you come in the name of the Saviour,
we cordially bid you welcome."
Whereupon the pilgrims modestly saluted Martha,
meekly speaking of themselves as unprofitable servants,
yea, the chief of sinners. But Martha, observing their
white robes and the mark on their foreheads, was satisfied that they were true pilgrims: so pressing them to
join their company, the strangers thankfully accepted
the invitation. The name of the old woman was Ruth,
and that of the boy, her son, was Plain Sense.
I saw then that the younger pilgrims presently fell
asleep: but while they slept, Ruth and Martha conversed
with each other for a considerable time after sunset.
Ruth informed Martha that she was an inhabitant of a
certain country called Darkland, lying to the north of
the village of Family-Love, in the Valley of Destruction,
where she had lived in total ignorance of her Saviour
till within a few months past. " And there," said she,
" I should still have lived in the same miserable state,
had it not pleased the Lord to make my little son, who
is my only child, the means of persuading me to leave
my all for the Saviour's sake. But now," continued she,
" I humbly trust, although I came not into the vineyard
till the last hour of the day, that through the free grace
and unsearchable merits of the Redeemer, I shall be
counted worthy, though utterly worthless in myself, to
enter the kingdom of heaven."
To this Martha returned, " Through faith only are we
counted worthy, and not on account of our own works
or deservings. Abraham' believed in the Lord, and it
was counted to him for righteousness.' Gen. xv. 6.
And unless the righteousness of Christ be imputed to us
by faith, we must all utterly perish."
I heard then that Ruth informed Martha how her little
son was brought to the knowledge of the truth by reading the Holy Book of God, which had been delivered to
H3




178          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
him by one of those servants of the Lord who now go
to and fro into the dark corners of the earth to publish
his Word. Moreover, she told her how unwilling she
had been to receive the Gospel at first, and that she had
even obstinately shut her ears against it. " Nevertheless," continued she, "I was at length brought to the
knowledge of my sin and my need of a Saviour: and
now having advanced thus far on my way, behold here
I stand before you this day, a miracle of grace."
"Let us then," said Martha, " give glory to God for
all that we have received at his hand; and let us humbly
confess that it is of his own superabounding grace and
goodness, manifested through the Son of his love, that
we are not now enduring the punishment due to our
transgressions." I heard then that the two pilgrims
broke forth with one voice in praise of their Redeemer;
after which, they betook themselves to rest.
The repose of that night was sweet to the whole company, and on the morrow they were ready, by dawn of
day, to pursue their journey. And now, whereas for
some time past nothing has been said of Inbred-Sin, I
think it necessary here to state, although I did not interrupt my pleasant account of the Delectable Mountains
by speaking of this evil one, that he was nevertheless
continually with the pilgrims during their stay in those
mountains, causing them frequent uneasiness, though
not breaking out into any very open or glaring act of
violence. His apparent quietness, however, during that
season is to be attributed to the vigilance of the shepherds, who, knowing him well, and keeping an eye continually towards him, put a check upon his actions at every
turn; so that he could gain no ground whatever. But now
being set free from the watchful eyes of the shepherds,
he began to entertain better hopes of success among the
pilgrims, who were at this time, he well knew, approaching their journey's end. He knew perfectly well that
his time was now or never-of which his master Beelzebub, the great enemy of pilgrims, was equally sensible
-he therefore determined without delay to exert himself to the utmost for the destruction of the pilgrims.
Nevertheless, as they were now more experienced, and
better acquainted with all his turnings and windings than
they formerly had been, he judged it necessary to act
with more caution than he had done in the former part
of their course. It was not now his wish to bring any




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.            179
one of the pilgrims, in this advanced stage of their
journey, to commit any very open and flagrant act of
sin; since such a circumstance, he believed, however
it might hurt the individual, would but put the rest more
upon their guard. But having privately taken counsel
with his master, he resolved, by plausible blandishment
and flatteries, to lull them, if possible, into that sleepy
and secure state in which many promising Christians
have perished everlastingly. With this diabolical purpose therefore in his mind, as soon as he was well clear
of the Delectable Mountains, he began to deal with the
pilgrims, working cautiously and without noise, like the
silent mole beneath the surface of the ground. In this
unsuspected manner, he adapted his temptations and
flatteries to each individual with all the art of Satan:
and though his mode of going to work was different with
each individual, yet his object with all was one and the
same, namely, to draw them into a state of carnal security, causing them to believe that in this last stage of
their pilgrimage all danger.had completely passed away,
and that the kingdom of heaven was, as it were, already
in their possession.
In order to bring this about, I perceived that he was
incessantly whispering in the ears of the pilgrims, and
exerting all his influence to abate the fervour of their
minds, by suggesting vainglorious thoughts of their
own attainments. And though repulsed by one, and
reproved by another, he returned again and again to the
charge, till he had persuaded some of the party to listen
to him with complacency. Oh! who is able to deal with
this Inbred-Sin! for he knoweth how to render every feeling and every affection of our nature serviceable unto
himself. Who can count up all the treacheries and deceits that lie concealed in the heart of this our enemy.
or who can tell when our war with him is at an end?
We have not only the old work to do over and over again
with this unwearied foe; but new devices are continually to be prepared for. The place of his habitation is
unsearchable, even the most secret recesses of our
hearts: and he is most, perhaps, to be feared after we
have gained some notable advantage over him. It was
in the advanced age of David that Inbred-Sin obtained
so great a victory over him. And thus it very frequently happens that pilgrims are overcome by this
insidious enemy towards the latter end of their course,




180          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
after having been enabled to contend successfully with
him in their early days-and this, chiefly, on account of
their ceasing too soon from the mortification of sin, or
contending no longer in the strength of the Lord.
Now Inbred-Sin employed every opportunity of privately carrying on his work. I saw also, that the prince
of this world, on observing that the pilgrims were now
drawing near to the end of their journey, became greatly
incensed at the prospect of losing such a company.
And behold, he called his servants about him, for the
purpose of consulting together concerning the surest
means of ravishing these his purchased ones, out of the
hand of their King, the Lord of glory. Wherefore,
after consultation had, they took their several stations
on that part of the King's territory which lieth nearest
to the land of Beulah, through which rolls the black
River of Death: and there they began to prepare their
enchantments. So the pilgrims passed on till they came
to the Enchanted Ground.
Now the Enchanted Ground was one flat and even
plain; and it was covered with grass, short and smooth
as velvet; insomuch that here were no rough ways, no
stumbling-stones, no rocks of offence. This part of
the way is visited by none save experienced Christians,
who, having urged their way to this advanced point
through a host of enemies, and finding themselves here
no longer beset by those temptations which assaulted
them in the earlier part of their pilgrimage-are apt to
suppose that every difficulty is now overcome, and that
a few more easy steps will introduce them to the high
reward of all their labours.
Before the pilgrims entered upon this ground, their
subtle enemy had completed his enchantments-for he
had covered the whole plain with a hot and heavy
vapour, which served entirely to obscure all the glories
of Mount Zion, now not far away; drawing over that
part of the horizon which used to reflect those glories
a deep and dense cloud, on whose dark surface certain
gloomy and sepulchral figures were indistinctly portrayed. There was also a deep stillness spread over all
this Enchanted Ground; so that the voice of the speaker
returned to his ear in a deep and hollow echo.
Now I perceived, that when the pilgrims entered
upon this ground, they immediately became sensible of
the weakening effects of the hot vapour; while the




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           181
gloomy prospect before them seemed to impress every
one with a degree of terror, which he had not the
power of describing to his companions. Thus being
deprived of the exhilarating view of Mount Zion, which
had been more or less visible to them during the greater
part of their pilgrimage; and being at the same time
weakened by the hot and damp vapour which overspread
the plain; they not only lost all desire of proceeding,
but even the power of supplicating assistance. They
now required rest and quietness above all things: and,
indeed, they seemed to find it no easy matter to keep
their eyes open.
I saw then that Inbred-Sin pointed out to them certain arbours built in that place, a little out of the highway, furnished with couches and pillows, together with
every other desirable accommodation for the ease of
the flesh; and he was exceedingly urgent with the pilgrims, especially the younger ones, that they should
turn into these commodious arbours, and take some rest.
So the thing was proposed to Martha; who was enabled, by divine grace, to oppose this counsel of the
enemy.
" This," said Martha, "is the last device of our ensnaring enemy. When he sees that pilgrims have
almost reached the end of their journey, he causes a
deep heaviness and a deadly security to fall upon them:
so that here many have stopped short of the kingdom,
without manifesting the least inclination to go farther."
Humble Mind. Alas! alas! How dreadful a thing
must it be, to fall short of happiness, when it is almost
within our grasp 
Martha. Now is the time for us to befriend each
other, by keeping a strict watch upon each other's motions.
Then said Ruth, " I have heard much of this place,
and have been told that on coming hither, the wiser pilgrims have had recourse to the exercise of praise,'speaking to each other in psalms, and hymns, and
spiritual songs, singing and making melody in their
hearts unto the Lord.' Eph. v. 19. Sing us therefore
one of the shepherds' songs; for I know you have
learned many of them: and I and my son will join you
as well as we can."
So they began to sing lustily and with a good courage,
And these were the words of their song



182           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
"Jesus our all to heaven is gone,
He whom we fix our hopes upon;
His track we see, and we'll pursue
The narrow way till him we view.
"The way the holy prophets went,
The road that leads from banishment,
The King's highway to holiness,
We'll choose, for all his paths are peace."
I saw, too, that the children supported one another when
any of them appeared likely to fall; while Humble Mind
and Plain Sense watched over each other with a friendly
solicitude.
They went on therefore tolerably well till towards
night; when it became very foggy, attended with a
drizzling rain. The two little ones now began to cry for
very weariness; and the old pilgrim also complained
much of dulness, declaring that her limbs had become
like the limbs of one afflicted with the palsy. Then
Martha, taking from her bag some wheaten cakes of the
shepherds' preparing, gave a cake to each: but instead
of sitting down to eat thereof, they ate them as the
children of Israel did the passover-with their loins girt,
and their staves in their hands. So, after moistening
their lips with the wine which the shepherds had given
them, they found themselves greatly refreshed. Whereupon they marshalled themselves in the best order they
could; resolving, whatever might befall, to march all
the night, without allowing themselves to sleep on the
Enchanted Ground: such strength the Lord gave them
to resist this last effort of Satan. And this was the
manner in which they arranged themselves: Plain Sense,
being a stout boy, had the charge of little Grace, while
Humble Mind took Truth under his care, sometimes
carrying these little ones, and sometimes leading them
by the hand, as suited best. Playful walked in the midst,
while Martha, supporting the old pilgrim, came up behind.  So they continued going straight forward all
night, having nothing to guide them but a faint light towards the east.
Now about midnight the enemy caused a wind to blow
towards the pilgrims, which brought with it a deadly putrid smell from the banks of the River of Death; at which
the pilgrims, particularly the elder ones, started, and became much affected. Then said Ruth, "Are we not
approaching the regions of death  Although I have




THE INFANT S PROGRESS.            183
long thought upon death, and hoped that I could meet it
in the strength of my God; yet now that it approaches
and stares me, as it were, in the face, I feel myself unable to encounter it."
" Alas, my sister," said Martha, " this is because you
depend upon your own strength, rather than upon the
strength of your Lord. And what is equally to be lamented, when death approaches we are apt to seek for
something in ourselves that may make us acceptable to
our Lord. We like not to go quite empty-handed into
the presence of our Redeemer; but, like Jacob, are
searching for the best fruits of the land to carry with
us to the King-not considering that our barren natures
are unable to supply us even with the smallest portion
of balm or honey, spices or myrrh, to sanctify the vessels which must be presented to our God. And yet,
what does the whole purport and tendency of our religion teach, from first to last, except this-that in ourselves we are miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked;
while we possess all things in Christ Jesus'" Then
sang Martha, and all the pilgrims joined her" 0 for an overcoming faith,
To cheer our dying hours,
To triumph o'er the tyrant Death,
And all his frightful powers!"
Now I perceived that the pilgrims, being no longer
affected by the deadly smell of the river, continued singing and praying aloud, notwithstanding their fatigue;
while Martha occasionally animated them with words
like these-" Sing unto the Lord, 0 ye saints of his, and
give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. For
his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life:
weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the
morning." Psalm xxx. 4, 5.
Towards morning the rain abated, the road improved,
and the air became as sweet and pleasant as that which
sweeps over fields of flowers. And behold, when the
sun arose upon the pilgrims, they saw before them
the lovely land of Beulah, perhaps at the distance of a
short day's journey. That land is never forsaken of the
Lord; yea, the Lord delighteth in it; and they that
dwell in that land are called, " The holy people, The
redeemed of the Lord." Isaiah lxii. 12.
No mortal tongue can describe the beauty of the land




184          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
of Beulah; nor hath any one seen that land but the wellbeloved of the Lord. It is there that the Lord allows
his people a foretaste of the joys of heaven. In that
land the more perfect happiness of the Christian begins,
even that which is to continue and increase for ever.
There " perfect love casteth out fear." 1 John iv. 18.
There is " the banqueting-house" of the King, in which
"the banner of his love" is displayed. Sol. Song ii. 4.
There he rejoiceth over his redeemed, and "feedeth
them among the lilies." Sol. Song ii. 16. There grow
" the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys; the figtree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the
tender grape give a good smell." Sol. Song ii. 1, 13.
There the living plants of the King's gardens " are as an
orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard; spikenard and saffron; calamus
and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh
and aloes, with all the chief spices." Sol. Song iv.
13, 14.
I saw then, as the pilgrims drew near to this lovely
land, that, on looking at their garments, they said one
to another, "MWe once imagined our garments to be
white; but in this goodly place they appear black and
defiled." Sol. Song v. 3.
" Yes," said Inbred-Sin (for he still kept close to the
pilgrims), " you must not presume to appear before the
King of the country thus vilely clad. Turning aside
therefore while you have time, first wash your garments
with soap and nitre, that they may be clean." But the
pilgrims were aware that this suggestion was from the
Evil One.
"  We are black, indeed," they answered. " We had
white garments given unto us at the gate which is
at the head of the way; but we have not kept them unspotted.  We will therefore go humbly to him who
alone can make them white; for soap and nitre cannot
wash out their stains." Then I saw that they hastened
forward, thus inquiring of all whom they met in the
way, " Tell us where the chief Shepherd feedeth, even
the King whom our soul loveth; where he maketh his
flock to rest at noon: for why should we be as those
who turn aside to the fold of the stranger V" Sol.
Song i. 7.
Then I saw that the people of the land pointed out
to them the footsteps of the King's flock; and bidding




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.             185
the pilgrims to follow them, behold, they speedily
brought them  to the Shepherd's tent.  There they
were joyfully received and bountifully entertained in
the royal banqueting-house; where also their garments
were rendered as pure as at the beginning. Moreover,
they were there adorned " with rows of jewels, and
their necks with chains of gold;" while their garments
were enriched with "borders of gold and studs of silver."
Sol. Song i. 10, 11. Thence also they were taken into
the garden of their Lord to taste his pleasant fruits:
and there, being weary, they slept-though their hearts
still waked, and their thoughts were still engaged with
ineffable delights. So they slept among the myrrh and
spices of the King's garden. Sol. Song v. 1.
Now there was music and rejoicing through all the
land of Beulah on account of the pilgrims' safe arrival;
the inhabitants of the land also showed them all manner of kindness; and nothing was wanting to gratify
their wishes. Nevertheless their hearts burned to be
at the end of their journey: for they could see the Celestial City itself, although only indistinctly, because of
its dazzling brightness. And they longed to be at home
with their Lord, their Redeemer, and their King, their
Almighty Maker, and the Maker of those parents, sisters, and children, whom they had loved upon earth, and
who were passed on before. But there lay between
them and the Celestial City a deep black river, through
which all the children of mortality must pass-even the
River of Death.
The pilgrims were at this time so eager to reach the
farther shore, that they almost longed to plunge themselves into this river. But secretly struggling with
their own impatience, they submissively waited their
appointed time. So they pitched their tents in the
happy land of Beulah, contented to tarry till the expected messenger should summon them away.
Now the first of the pilgrims thus summoned away,
was the mother of Plain Sense. The old woman received the message joyfully, for her heart was with her
King; and she cheerfully requested all her fellow-pilgrims to accompany her to the edge of the water. I
saw then that, as she approached the river-side, the
opposite banks appeared so clear, so bright, and so
lovely, that she could not forbear crying out in a transport



186           THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
"Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood,
Stand dress'd in lively green —
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan roll'd between."
She then took leave of all the pilgrims, one by one.
But when her son came to her, " O my child! my son!'
she said, " when thou comest to this hour, with what
joy wilt thou recollect that thy persuasions and example were made the means of sweetening these bitter
waters to thy aged mother! I lived in sin, a slave of the
world, and in bondage to its lusts; when, by the grace
of God, my only child became the instrument of leading
me from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
unto God. Blessed therefore be the Lord, who in his
tender mercy hath saved both mother and son!" Then
stepping into the water, she said, " My foot standeth firm
upon the Rock of Ages." After which the black waves
rolling over her head, they for a season lost sight of her.
But presently, with the help of the glass which the
shepherds had given them, they distinguished her again:
and behold, certain shining ones had received her, and
were bearing her through the clouds to the gates of
heaven. So she vanished from their sight, and they returned to their tents.
Now I saw that after many days had passed, a messenger came, inquiring for Humble Mind and Martha.
Then Playful wept, while little Grace and Truth were
sorely distressed. But Martha, embracing and kissing
them, said, " Do ye sorrow, my children, even as others
who have no hope?' Who shall separate us from the
love of Christ. I am persuaded that neither death, nor
life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor
things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor
depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate
us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our
Lord.'" Rom. viii. 35, 38, 39.
The messenger however not being very hasty or urgent, Martha and Humble Mind had time to make known
to their friends what they wished them to do after their
passage through the river. And first, Humble Mind requested his sister to hold herself in readiness to follow
him; " For," said he, " you know neither the day nor
the hour wherein the Son of man cometh." Matt.
xxv. 13.
I saw  also that Martha besought Playful to take




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.           187
charge of little Grace and Truth; very earnestly entreating, that as her age and experience were greater
than theirs, she would bring them up in the nurture and
admonition of the Lord.
Now Humble Mind's last request was, that his friend
Plain Sense would take his sister to wife, that they
might remain affectionate fellow-helpers to each other
through the remainder of their pilgrimage. He also
earnestly commended the two children to their care;
for he greatly loved little Grace and Truth.
When therefore the appointed day was come, they
went down to the River of Death together. So having
come to the river-side, the departing pilgrims there
knelt down in the midst of their kneeling friends: and I
saw, that they who were going to pass the river wept not,
but that their friends wept sorely. Then they prayed
earnestly, in the following words: " 0 Almighty God,
with whom do live the spirits of just men made perfect,
after they are delivered from their earthly prisons, we
humbly commend our souls into thy hands, as into the
hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Saviour;
most humbly beseeching thee that they may be precious
in thy sight. Wash them, we pray thee, in the blood
of that immaculate Lamb that was slain to take away
the sins of the world; that whatsoever defilements they
may have contracted in the midst of this miserable and
naughty world, through the lust of the flesh or the wiles
of Satan, being purged and done away, they may be presented pure and without spot before thee. And teach
those who survive, in this and other like daily spectacles of mortality, to see how frail and'uncertain their
own condition is; and so to number their days, that
they may seriously apply their hearts to that holy and
heavenly wisdom while they live here, which may in
the end bring them to everlasting life, through the merits
of Jesus Christ thine only Son our Lord." (See Visita.
tion of the Sick.)
Thus having prayed, they arose and kissed their
weeping friends; when Martha, crying, " Lord Jesus,
receive my spirit," stepped down into the water, Humble Mind immediately following. But, no sooner had
the soles of their feet touched the cold stream, than
Inbred-Sin shrieked aloud, and attempted to pull them
back. Whereupon they turned deadly white, while the
cold sweat stood upon their brows. Then did the




188          THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.
gasping pilgrims appear to be sinking under the agonies
of temporal death: insomuch that their earthly friends
could commune with them no longer.
Now  as they struggled in the water, like persons
nearly overcome and ready to perish, their groans and
cries for deliverance became exceedingly distressing to
those who stood by. When, in the midst of their extremity, behold one, whose beauty was without blemish,
advanced to meet them. They who stood upon the
shore beheld him through the glass of Faith, and knew
him, by his form, to be the sinner's Saviour, full of grace
and truth. And behold, the waters of death fled back
at the touch of his feet. Joshua iii. 13. So approaching
the pilgrims, who had now fainted-by a sudden exertion of his omnipotence, and in virtue of his own allsufficient merits, he separated Inbred-Sin from their inmost souls, and annihilated him for ever. Upon which
I perceived that the bitterness of death passed away
from them; for the sting of death is sin. Then speaking tenderly unto the pilgrims, and bearing them up in
his arms, their gracious Lord triumphantly conveyed
them to the further side.
Here, even they who used the glass of Faith could
scarcely discern any thing farther, by reason of their
tears. But I continued to look after the pilgrims; and
behold, a multitude of the heavenly host were waiting
on the other side of the water, ascribing glory to Him
who was more than conqueror over death. And they
received the pilgrims with acclamations of joy-crying
out, "Glory, glory, glory to the Lamb! Death is swallowed up in victory! Hallelujah! hallelujah! hallelujah!" Then casting their crowns at the feet of Him
who had brought up the pilgrims from the River of
Death, they fell down before him and worshipped.
Now as the pilgrims went up from the River of Death,
they became bright and shining, being transformed
into the image of Him that redeemed them. And behold, they were surrounded by thousands and tens of
thousands of glorified saints and angels, who placed
crowns on their heads, and golden harps in their hands;
with which they instantly joined the heavenly host in
their triumphant songs.
So the glorious multitude, accompanying their Almighty Lord, began to ascend through the region of the
air towards the gates of heaven which were opened




THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.          189
wide to receive them. And as they ascended they cried
out, " Hallelujah! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth!" And again they said," Hallelujah to God and the
Lamb!"  Thus the glorious company of these blessed
ones reached the regions of ethereal light, whither my
eyes could follow them no more.
Upon which I awoke from my dream, and hastened
to write it in a book.
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my
last end be like his!" Numbers xxiii. 10.
END OF THE INFANT'S PROGRESS.








THE
FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.








THE
FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
CHAPTER I.
I SHALL commence my narrative by stating that I am
a native of France, and a very old man. More than
forty years since I was a minister of a small parish situated in the beautiful province of Normandy, in France;
that province which gave her conquerors and her princes
for many generations to the country in which I have
now taken up my abode.
I was educated for the pastoral office; the parish
which was appointed me lies upon the Seine; it extends
along the left bank of that beautiful river, which, as is
well known, rises near Saint Seine, in Burgundy, and
mingles itself with the sea below the city of Rouen.
It is a region rich in orchards and vineyards, in fragrant meadow-lands and thymy downs.-To the north
thereof lies a forest, extending itself for several leagues
over a space most beautifully diversified with hill and
dale, and affording within its deep recesses such a great
variety of cool grottoes, waterfalls, and natural bowers
as I have seldom seen in any other part of the world.
There is the sweet village, each little dwelling of which
has its thatched roof, its rural porch, and its gay flowergardens We had our chateau also, which being built
of gray stone, and having a commanding site, afforded
a pleasing object to the road which runs from Paris to
Rouen on the other side of the Seine; its fanes and
turrets at that time being exalted above the neighbouring woods, though, as I now understand, they are levelled to the dust; and near the chateau was the Tour
de Tourterelle, which gave the title to the family,-a
VoL. V. —




194      THE FLOWERS. OF THE FOREST.
huge old tower coeval with the first dukes of Normandy.
While residing in Normandy, I was a Papist, though
now, through the influence of a clearer light shining
upon my soul, I am a Protestant: and I humbly pray
that my mind may never again be brought under the
dark delusions in which it was involved in my younger
days.
It is possible that my youthful reader may not precisely understand the points on which the Protestant
and the Papist are at variance. These particulars are
numerous, and many of them are not easily ascertained,
because the Papists do not present the doctrines of their
church in a simple or well-defined form.  When a
Protestant refers to the works which are held in authority among the Papists, and points out the errors
contained therein, they shift their ground, and in all
possible ways evade a straight-forward line of argument. Their most authenticated modern forms of worship are from the decrees of the Council of Trent,
which commenced its sittings in 1545, and continued,
though a long interval intervened, until 1563.  That
council was held by the command of the pope at Trent,
a city in the north of Italy, and many decrees were
issued by it, both as to matters of faith and ceremonies.
These were sanctioned by the highest authority of the
Church of Rome, and have never been in any way repealed or modified; they may therefore be referred toas
the authorized statement of popish doctrines, and Protestants may reason respecting them as the rule of faith
of the Romish Church. It is true that they were not
received with the same degree of implicit submission
by all the countries which continued to profess themselves followers of the Church of Rome; and in Protestant countries at the present day, the Papists are unwilling to admit fully, that they, as such, are bound by
the decrees of the Council of Trent; their policy appears to consist in continually shifting their position,
and presenting new  forms of defence, which being
of a shadowy and mysterious nature, are incapable of
being overturned by plain reason, or other means which
might be used against their errors if advanced in a more
substantial form. The Protestant, on the other hand,
uses no subterfuge whereby he may confound his enemies, and escape the conseqUenCes to which the principles he::;-ognises must lead, but simply maintains his




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.            195
belief in Scripture, and asserts that whatsoever is not
read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be
required of any man that it should be believed as an
article of faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to
salvation.
But I forget that I am writing for such as cannot
be supposed to enter fully into discussions of this nature. I shall therefore avoid going more deeply into
them, simply requesting my youthful reader to bear
these things in mind, namely, that of the two principal
orders of persons calling themselves Christians, the
first, namely, the Protestants, profess to take the Bible
as their rule of life and of belief; the second, the Papists, bind themselves to obey the commandments of
their church, of which the pope is, as they pretend, the
father, the spiritual head, the absolute and infallible
ruler: and the priests of that church assume to themselves a power and authority far beyond that of any
mortal being, in all matters connected with religion.
When first admitted to my cure, the family at the
chateau consisted of many individuals, but one and
another of these being removed by death or marriage,
Madame la Baronne only was left to us after a few
years, and such were the kindness and amiable deportment of this lady, that it was commonly said of her,
that all the virtues of the long and illustrious line of
ancestry, of which she was the last in that part of the
country, had centered in her.  In fact, her conduct
merited our sincere affection and gratitude; but when
we are made acquainted, through the divine teaching,
with the fallen and corrupt state of human nature, we
dare not to use or admit that high strain of panegyric
which more presumptuous individuals employ without
apprehension.
Between the village and the chateau stood our church,
built also of gray stone, in the Norman Gothic style,
and near to the church was a large dark timbered house,
with two gable-ends pointed with wooden crosses,
where lived a decayed gentlewoman, a widow, whom I
shall call Madame Bule.
This lady being an accomplished woman for that day,
and much reduced in her fortune, received young ladies
into her house for their education, and was, I believe,
as far as the dark state of her mind would admit, a
-faithful and laborious guide to her young people.
12




196       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
Near to Madame Bule's seminary was my own little
mansion, nay, so near, that the window of my study,
which was an upper room, projected over the garden
wall of the seminary, and I used often to amuse myself
by showering sugar-plums from thence upon the little
ones who were assembled on the lawn beneath.
From  the period of my entering upon my charge
until I was more than forty years of age, I enjoyed a
long interval of comparative peace. I was fond of a
retired life. I had a particular delight in the study of
nature, and in that part of it especially which refers to
the formation and beautiful variety of the vegetable
world. I made a collection of all the plants in the
neighbourhood, and would walk miles for the chance of
obtaining a new specimen. I had other pursuits of the
same kind, which filled up the intervals of my professional duties, and, through the divine goodness, kept me
from worse things during those years of my life in which
I certainly had not that sense of religion which would
have upheld me in situations of stronger excitement.
Thus I was carried on in a comparatively blameless
course through a long period of my life, for which I
humbly thank my God, and take no manner of credit to
myself; though I feel that it is a mercy for which an
individual cannot be too grateful, when he is brought to
a sense of sin and to a knowledge of his own weakness,
to find that in the days of his spiritual darkness he has
been guarded on the right-hand and on the left, from
shoals and rocks and whirlpools, in which wiser persons
than himself have made terrible shipwrecks. But, as I
said above, I was led on from year to year in a sort of
harmless course; and whereas I enjoyed much peace, so
was the same bestowed upon my neighbours in general, in
a larger proportion than could have been expected, when
the agitated state of our country, as it regarded religion
and politics, is brought under consideration. In the
mean time, the little establishment of Madame Bule
was carried on in a manner so peaceful and tranquil, that
it can hardly be questioned but that the protecting hand
of Providence was extended over this academy, although
undoubtedly the instructions there received partook of
the spiritual darkness at that period spread over the
whole country.
At length, however, as madame became less able to
exert herself, and as new modes of instruction and more




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.             197
fashionable accomplishments became requisite, in order
to satisfy the parents of her scholars, she thought it right
to procure an assistant, and Mademoiselle Victoire, a
young lady who had been educated in Paris, was appointed
to the situation. Thus the wolf was admitted into the
fold; for this young person, being exceedingly vain
and worldly minded, no sooner found herself established
in the family of Madame Bule, then she began to disturb
the peace of its inmates.
All those accomplishments which delight the senses
were what were chiefly held in esteem  by mademoiselle; she had no value for the qualities of the heart,and no discernment of retiring and humble merit; hence
her favours were ever lavished on the vain and frivolous, provided they were possessed of such qualities as
she admired; while some of the most amiable young
people in the seminary were continually exposed either
to her ridicule or her reproaches.
In consequence of this unjust conduct she presently
raised a very unamiable feeling among the young people,
many of whom began to form false estimates of each
other's merits, and to hate and envy those individuals
among their companions who possessed any of those
qualities or distinctions, whether mental, personal, or
accidental, which were calculated to ensure the favour
of mademoiselle. And then it was that I first observed
a change in the air and appearance of the young people
when they came out to amuse themselves in their garden
during the intervals of their studies; then it was that
the voice of anger first arose towards my window, and
my ear was then first saluted with the tones of discord,
disturbing the beautiful harmony of the scene. I observed also, after a while, that there was an entire cessation of those games and diversions in which the young
people formerly seemed to take such interest; neither
did I hear those cries of joy proceeding from the playground which were in former periods so delightful to my
ear as I sat in my study-for worldly purposes and feelings had crept into this little society, and I, as if aware
that these symptoms, observed among these young
people, were only the beginnings of misfortunes, frequently at that time looked back on the days of innocent
(comparatively innocent) pleasure which were fast
passing away, with a sort of regret which seemed even
more bitter than the occasion warranted.




198       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
The time had been, nay, it was hardly gone, when it
had been the chief delight of the pupils of Madame
Bule to cultivate flowers in all attainable varieties, and
madame had given a small piece of ground to each little
girl for this purpose.
I had often busied myself in procuring rare seeds and
fine specimens of flowers for these little people, by
which small services I had obtained the name of Le Bon
Pere,* Le Bon Pere Raffre, and was saluted with cries
of joy whenever I appeared in the garden. Then with
what eager delight did the little rebels gather round me,
and some indeed were daring enough to thrust their
hands into my pockets, to rob me of the small packets
of seeds or bulbous roots which had been deposited
therein to attract the pretty little thieves. More than
once I have seized a dimpled hand in the very act of
felony, and then have taken out my large clasp knife, to
open it wide, to whet it on the nearest stone, and to pretend that I was about to take instant and cruel revenge;
while the sparkling and blooming delinquents shrieked
and danced around me, now receding now advancing,
now approaching now retiring, till every avenue of the
garden re-echoed with the merry notes of innocent delight. Oh joyous days of happy and unapprehensive
youth, when the light heart never wearies with the same
jest, however often reacted or repeated, nor yawns at
the oft-told tale!
Often too was I invited to the collation at four o'clock,
when the weather would permit the little party to enjoy
that simple meal in the open air; and when Father
Raffre promised his company, most happy was that little
fair one who could contribute the most elegant decorations for the feast, or supply the most beautiful baskets
of reeds or osiers to stand in lieu of the china or plate
which adorn the tables of more magnificent orders.
As I before said, I was then a Roman Catholic; it
was the religion to which I had been brought up, and
although I will not say that from time to time some
faint apprehensions might not have crossed my mind
even then, respecting the soundness of the principles in
which I had been nurtured, yet these gleams of light
had hitherto been transitory as the rays which fall upon
the earth when the morning is spread upon the mountains and the clouds are driven forward along the path
* The good father.




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.           199
of the sun. But this I trust that I may say of myself,
ad of many of my brethren at that time, that, as far
asour knowledge went, we were sincere; and that if
we sometimes appeared to be otherwise, it was because
we were not always assured that our faith had that
foundation in truth, which it must needs have in order
to be effective. Notwithstanding which, I think I may
add, that I did endeavour, when thus familiarly associated with these little people, to press upon them the
importance of spiritual things, and with this view directed them often to raise up their hearts to God when
employed in their most ordinary actions. To this piece
of excellent advice I added, as might be expected, certain admonitions respecting forms, of a nature which I
now see to have been decidedly prejudicial, inasmuch
as outward forms so frivolous as those which are commanded by the church to which I then belonged, have
a direct tendency to lead the mind from seeking that inward and spiritual grace, of which outward forms are
but the types. Among those forms which I particularly
enforced, I well remember one, which was that of
making the sign of the cross many times during the
day; I also insisted that these young people should repeat the Ave Maria, and certain other prayers which I
taught them in the Latin tongue, as often as they could
make it convenient so to do; assuring them that by their
obedience or disobedience in these particulars, they
would rise or fall in favour with God and with the
church. Thus I endeavoured, though on false principles, to shed the odour of sanctity on our little assemblies, and for some years I had no strong reason to perceive that the weapons of warfare which I had placed
in the hands of my little pupils, were not sufficiently
powerful to enable them to resist the snares of Satan
and the dangers of the world. For, as I remarked
above, while Madame Bule alone presided over her
school, and while her pupils were small, the ill effects of
the heartless and formal system inculcated by me did
not appear; neither did the evil break out till the general
agitation of the country was in some degree extended
to this little society, by the arrival of Mademoiselle
Victoire, who, according to the prevailing spirit of the
age, no sooner found herself established in the seminary
than she took the lead, before her superior, and commenced that work of disorganization which was already
advancing in the capital.




200       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
CHAPTER IIU
AT the time of which I am about to speak, there were
in Madame Bule's seminary three young ladies, whom I
shall have particular occasion to mention by-and-by,
and shall therefore proceed to describe in this place.
The eldest of these was named Susette, and was, in
point of external perfection, the rose of the parterrea blooming, lovely young person, but of a high and
haughty spirit when opposed; yet one, I think, which
might have been led to any thing by a kind and gentle
hand.
Susette was a chief favourite of Mademoiselle Victoire, and had her warm partisans, her open admirers,
and secret enemies in the little establishment. Neither
was she without her rival; for what favourite is so
happy as not to have sometimes reason to dread the influence of another. Mademoiselle was capricious, and
whereas at one time she caressed Susette, at another
time she was all complacency to Fanchon, the only
young lady among the pupils of Madame Bule whose
pretensions could be brought in comparison with those
of Susette-but whereas I have called Susette a rose,
Fanchon, whose hair was of a bright and rich auburn,
might best have been compared to the golden lily, the
pride and glory of the oriental gardens.
But I must confess that the character of Fanchon
never pleased me, she had none of that candour and openness of temper so agreeable in youth, and which I would
rather see in its excess than its deficiency, although
that excess may border on imprudence; for age assuredly must add prudence to the character, whereas it
seldom deducts from a spirit of cold and selfish caution.
The third among the pupils of Madame Bul1 whom I
must particularly describe was an English girl and anl
orphan. I never knew by what chance this child had
been consigned to the care of Madame Bule, neither do
I recollect her real name; but she was called Aimee by
her preceptress, and by that name she went among us.
Neither do I know more of her age, than that she was




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          201
thought too young for confession till she had been in
the house more than two years, and therefore I judge
that she was between eleven and twelve years of age
at the time of which I am speaking. This little girl
was small for her years, and was one who would generally have passed unnoticed in a group of children, yet
when closely examined, she had one of the sweetest
countenances I ever beheld; her hair and complexion
marked her Saxon origin, and the tender innocence and
dimpled beauty of her sweet face brought her frequently in comparison, in my imagination, with some
such figure as I have often seen of an infant Jesus,
whom the artist has represented in the arms of his
mother, looking down from some high altar with love
and compassion on the multitude kneeling before him.
Such were the high comparisons which I made for the
lovely little Aimee-yet why do I call the comparison
high. Are not images, however beautiful, however exalted, however held in honour, but blocks of wood and
stone, carved into the similitude of man by the hand of
man. and is not the body of man the work of God himself, and in every instance wonderful and past imitation,
and even past comprehension! for what doth David say
on this subject. Psalm cxxxix. 14, " I am fearfully and
wonderfully made, marvellous are thy works, and that
my soul knoweth right well."
Nevertheless, I own that the time has been when I
bowed with religious awe before the graven image, and
poured forth my soul thereunto in solemn prayer, without considering any of those subtle distinctions which
the learned of the papal church pretend to make respecting relative and inferior honour: for the Roman
Catholic church, when making its comments on the first
commandment, uses the following expressions, which
I shall give in the form of question and answer, as I
found it in the authorized catechism published in this
country:Question.-Does the first commandment forbid us to
give any kind of honour to the saints and angels?
Answer.-No; it only forbids us to give them supreme or divine honour, which belongs to God alone;
but it does not forbid us to give them that inferior
honour, which is due to them as the faithful servants
and special friends of God.
13




202       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
Q.-And is it allowable to honour relics, crucifixes)
and holy pictures 1
A.-Yes, with an inferior and relative honour, as
they relate to Christ and his saints, and are memorials
of them.
But as I have already remarked, when kneeling before these crucifixes and images, I fear that I too often
retained but very imperfect ideas of these distinctions;
and in the visible type or representation too often lost
the recollection of the antetype.
To return to little Aimee; she was a child exactly
formed to be the delight and joy of some venerable
grandmother, or of some widowed and bereaved wife
and mother. One who in retirement would have been
the sweetest friend and companion which sadness or sorrow could ever know, being no doubt divinely endowed
with that holy peace of mind and tranquillity of spirit
which the world can never disturb, because the world
can have no intercourse therewith. Yet at the same
time, being a character which was so entirely overlooked in scenes of bustle and worldly commotion,
that her companions seemed seldom to take any farther
notice of her than to push her aside when she crossed
their paths; still, however, she possessed in so large
a degree the spirit of harmlessness so truly congenial
with the Christian character, that it would have been
impossible (one should have thought) to hate this little
girl. Nevertheless she did incur the active hatred of
Mademoiselle Victoire, and this in a way which such as
are not somewhat skilled in the nature of the human
heart will not easily comprehend, but which will be evident enough to those to whom the secret recesses of
that fountain of all that is impure are in some degree
revealed-some fault had been committed in the house
soon after the arrival of mademoiselle, the blame was
laid on Aim6e, and on the bare suspicion mademoiselle
punished her severely, neither would she remit her
punishment till madame interfered; it was found afterward that Aimee was innocent, but mademoiselle never
pardoned her
I had observed, as I have before remarked, that since
the arrival of Mademoiselle Victoire the simple, cheerful spirit which had formerly animated the family of
Madame Bule had disappeared; and instead of the lively




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          203
games in which the pupils of all ages had hitherto engaged, I could see from my window that there were
parties formed in the young society. It was very evident that there was an open rivalry established between
the rose and the fleur-de-lis* (by-the-by, a rivalry of old
and renowned establishment); also I could perceive
that there were few of the young people who did not
enlist themselves under one or other of these banners,
and I could sometimes hear words running very high
between individuals of the different parties, though I
could not exactly understand the precise subject of these
controversies.
At length, however, it happened as I was sitting one
afternoon with my window open, it being two days before the feast of Easter, that I saw the young people
proceeding in a body from the porch; Mademoiselle
Victoire was in the midst of them, and she was talking
with great vivacity on a subject which seemed to interest every one. They advanced in a direction which
brought them nearly under my window, and then mademoiselle sat down on a garden chair in the centre of
the grass-plat, while her two favourites stationed themselves on each side of her, and one by one she called
each of the other young people to the footstool of her
throne, for she sat in much state, and after having looked
into the palm of every hand with the grimaces used by
a fortune-teller, for so I understood the scene, she dismissed each individual, with some prognostic or witticism, which, as I perceived, excited peals of laughter,
but not such laughter as I felt agreeable to me. It
appears that the young people had at that moment forgotten that it was possible I might be so near them, for
although I could see them well, and distinguish every
gesture, yet I was myself so concealed by a jasmine
just bursting into leaf, which I had trained over a part
of my window, that it would not have been easy for the
most penetrating eye to have detected me behind this
natural screen, and thus as I was not within their view,
neither was I in their thoughts at that period.
This pastime, of whatever tendency it might have
been, had proceeded for some time, and each of the little
people then present had presented her palm, and heard
the prognostics of her future fate from the self-elected
* The lily.




204       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
prophetess, when suddenly a sort of demur arose among
the party, and I saw every one turn to look around her;
at.length I heard the voice of mademoiselle calling
Aimee, and at the same time I perceived that the little
girl had not been present. The next minute all the
young party began to scatter themselves over the garden, as if in quest of the child, and the name of this little
one proceeding from the various parts of the pleasure ground, was returned by an echo, caused by an
angle formed by the tower and the body of the church.
Some minutes elapsed, it seems, before the little lost one
was discovered; she was (as I afterward learned) at
last detected in an arbour formed of flowering shrubs, at
the very bottom of the garden, cowering down under the
shade of a laurustinus, and deeply engaged in reading a
very small book. She was instantly seized upon by
Susette and Fanchon, who both sprang upon her at the
same instant, and dragged her between them into the
awful presence of Mademoiselle Victoire.
The little captive uttered no sound, and used but little
resistance; but when brought directly before Mademoiselle Victoire, she fell on her knees, and, pointing to
Susette, seemed to be earnestly imploring some favour
of the utmost importance. What this favour was I.could not discover; but I was made to understand that,
so far from having obtained it, she had only incurred
more violent displeasure by the strength of her pleadings, for I saw mademoiselle push her away several
times, and then I heard my own name repeated, with an
assurance that something, I knew not what, should not
be concealed from me.
Being thus, as I considered, called upon, I arose, and
putting my head out at the window, I called to mademoiselle, and asked her what had happened, and wherefore my name was mentioned.
Mademoiselle, who had stood up to correct the child,
turned hastily at the sound of my voice, and approaching
as near to me as possible, " My good father," she said,
" we have need of your advice and counsel, and we hope
that you will insist that this child shall endure a severe
penance"-here she stopped to recover breath, of which
her passion had deprived her, and then proceeded. "This
wicked little heretic," she said, "whom madame has
always upheld as a sort of saint among us, has it seems,
retained in her possession, ever since she came into




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          205
this place, a volume of the Holy Scriptures in her native
language, though she knows that children like herself
are not competent to use these holy books to any advantage. She has actually been discovered in an arbour
of this garden, deep in the study of this volume, using
such art in so doing as shows the blackness and depravity of her heart." Thus speaking, she gave the child a
push from her, with that sort of expression of abhorrence which one would use to a loathed animal.
" And where is this book V" I asked. It was immediately held up to my view by Susette, and I perceived
that it was an abridgment only of the sacred Scriptures,
being an exceedingly small volume, not above four inches
square; it looked old and much worn: and it struck me
that there was a malicious feeling shown towards the
child in making so much of this insignificant matter,
and not, as I thought, much policy in it, as it related to
the interests of the church to which I was then attached. I therefore said, " Let the book be given to
madame, and to-morrow I will come over and speak to
her on the subject."
I hoped by this that I should satisfy all parties; but
in this I was mistaken. No sooner did little Aimee understand that the tiny volume in question was to be
given to madame, than she dropped on her knees upon
the grass, and looking up to me with streaming eyes
and united hands-" O dear father, kind Father Raffre,"
she said, " order me the severest penance, let me live
on bread and water for a year to come, but do not take
away my book-my lovely little book: do not take my
poor little book."
" Dear child," I replied, " dear child, wipe away your
tears; to-morrow I will meet you in the church; you
shall confess all to me about your little book; and do
not fear, you shall have justice done to you." And thus
I dismissed the whole party, though I felt that I had not
given satisfaction to either side by the manner in which
I had answered the appeal. Neither was I mistaken in
this my opinion, for mademoiselle returned in a very
ill humour to the house; and though Aimee and the
affair of the book were spoken of no more that evening,
yet the young ladies began to quarrel with each other
upon these grounds,-namely, that Mademoiselle Victoire had promised to one a prince and a coach-and-six,
a duke to another, a barouche-and-four and a marquis to




206        THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
another, a simple baron to another, a rich burgher to another, and to a less favoured one a mere coachman. As
I had suspected, and I afterward learned, mademoiselle
had been telling her pupils their fortunes, or rather had
taken this way of giving them some idea of their several pretensions, and by this means had excited in their
minds every sort of idea which ought to have been held
back from them; and, indeed, so high did the rancour
of the several parties rise on this occasion, that Madame
Bule was obliged to exert her authority, and very severe was the reproof she gave when she understood the
cause of this uproar which had disturbed her peace.
" Do you not know," said she, " that the day after tomorrow is Easter, and that to-morrow you are to meet
Father Raffr6 for confession; and in what spirit or temper will you be for this sacrament if you retire to rest
in the indulgence of such angry passions? For shame,
young ladies; do not thus convert an innocent jest into
a subject of discontent and rancour."
It is needless surely here to remark, that in this reproof of Madame Bule, which was faithfully reported
to me, there were two important errors; in the first
instance, confession is no sacrament, neither a part of
a sacrament, there being but two sacraments appointed
by our blessed Saviour, namely, baptism and the supper
of the Lord;* and the jest of Mademoiselle Victoire
was every thing but innocent, therefore madame should
not have so designated it.
CHAPTER III.
EARLY the next morning, it was signified to me that
Madame Bule desired to speak with me; and when I
had obeyed her summons, the amiable woman opened
her mind to me to the following effect: "My dear
Father Raffre," she said, "my mind has lately been
much troubled respecting my pupils; the time was, as
* The Church of Rome considers that there are seven sacraments;
adding to the two mentioned in the New Testament five others,
namely, penance, confession, orders, matrimony, and extreme unr.
tiok.




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          207
you well know, when we enjoyed a degree of peace
which is now utterly foreign to our household. I was
then," she added, and the tear was in her eye when
she spoke, " more alert and active than I now am, and
better able to endure the fatigues of my situation. It
was then," she continued, " that every hour brought its
pleasures, and every change its delights; my children
came with cheerfulness to their lessons, and left them
with glee to enjoy their sports; if one did amiss, all
were humbled; if one was praised, all were pleased; if
one received a present, all were to have a share in it; if
one was unwell, all partook in her pain. Now the case
is entirely altered, I hear of nothing but of rivalries and
of ill-will: if I praise one individual I offend twenty,
and if I find fault with one offender I give cause of triumph to twenty more. It is not now a question who
can do best, but who is most accomplished or most genteel; and instead of joy and peace, my household is one
continued scene of dissatisfaction."
" And cannot you account, madame," I said, " for this
change in the character of your household I are you
sure that the person whom you employ to assist you is
exactly suited to your purpose i"
"Mademoiselle Victoire," she replied, " is diligent
and accomplished; I might not get a better were I to
dismiss her: but you, my good father, shall hear my
children's confession, and I am sure that they will find
in you a faithful and pious counsellor."
After this conversation, I took the earliest opportunity of calling the young people to confession. The
church was set aside for that duty; and Madame Bule
made a point of being in the church with us, although
she did not remain within hearing.
As a confessor, I have, through the course of a long
ministry, heard many awful secrets, and though I am
now no longer of the Romish church, I still would make
it a point of honour not to betray any confidence which
was placed in me under the character which I formerly
held of a father confessor. The confessions, however,
which were made to me by the pupils of Madame Bule
were not of such a nature as to render it of the smallest
consequence whether they are or are not divulged; neither, even if they were more important, can they possi.
bly now affect the penitents in the smallest point. I
shall therefore venture to inform my readers of what




208        THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
passed that morning in the church between me and those
of the young ladies of the establishment with whose
names and descriptions I have made them acquainted.
Susette was the first who was brought to me, and when
she appeared, the traces of tears were upon her cheeks.
" Daughter," I said, " you are sad; what has afflicted
you  Open your whole heart to me, and be assured
that the counsel I shall give you shall be to your advantage." She immediately burst into tears, and speaking
passionately, made it appear that injustice was done to
her by her companions, especially by Fanchon.
" Fanchon," she added, "who was once my dearest
friend, is turned against me, and that because she is
jealous of me. Some persons think me handsomer
than she is, and she cannot endure a rival, and she bears
herself maliciously and spitefully towards me; and if
she can find a flaw in my conduct, she is pleased and
makes it a rule to exhibit it, and to make little errors
appear in the light of serious offences."
I shall not repeat all I said to her on this subject. No
doubt my. advice, though in some points good, was
mingled with error, for I remember well that, after
having pointed out to her the beauty of charity, and
recommended the exercise of it towards her companions,
I added, " for know you not, my daughter, that' charity
remits sin, and gives spiritual life to the soul.'"  By
which assertion I set charity in the place of our Saviour,
and gave our good deeds the power of redeeming us
from the consequence of our evil ones; whereby I
denied the words of Holy Scripture, for are we not
taught that a man is not justified by the works of the
law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ 1 Galatians ii. 16.
In reply to what I had said, Susette answered with a
frankness which was natural to her. She acknowledged
that she had a considerable portion of pride, and that she
could neither bear a rival among her school-fellows, nor
refrain from despising those whom she thought her inferiors. She spoke again of Fanchon as of one whom
she looked upon with envy and jealousy; and among
others whom she heartily despised she mentioned Aimee.
In reply to all which I told her " that pride was counted
by the church among the seven deadly sins. Pride," I
said, "is an inordinate love and esteem of our own
worth and excellence-it is a mortal sin, and can only




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.           209
be remitted by hearty contrition and the sacraments
of baptism and penance."
At the word penance Susette started, as under fear;
on which I spoke soothingly to her, and added, that she
need not be afraid, that I would not be severe.
" The sacrament of penance, my daughter," I remarked,
"consists of three parts, contrition, confession, and satisfaction. The tears of contrition I have seen on your
features; you have performed the duty of confession;
and what now remains to be done is satisfaction."
" And in what," asked Susette hastily, "does this duty
of satisfaction consist?"' In what 1 shall require of' you to do," I replied.
"Then, dear Father Raffr6," she answered, "you
surely will not make me ask pardon of little A.imee, or
seek a reconciliation with Fanchon"-and she looked
imploringly at me.
" I shall exact of you," I replied, "before I can
venture to give you absolution, that satisfaction which
the church requires.' For satisfaction, which is the
third part of the sacrament of penance, is a faithful
performance of the prayers or good works enjoined by
the priest to whom the penitent confesses.' "
" 1 am willing, father," she replied, " to repeat as many
prayers as you could desire."
" Be it so my daughter," I answered: and I know not
how many Ave Marias and Pater Nosters I enjoined, to
be repeated before the image of the Virgin in the closet
of Madame Bule before the hour of mass on the following day; and thus having slightly healed the wound of
my penitent, or rather administered fresh subject for
future self-satisfaction to one who was already but too
well pleased with herself, and as it were added fuel
to the fire I should have sought to quench, I dismissed
Susette, and proceeded to confess her rival, who soon
afterward entered the church and approached the confessional.
The confession of Fanchonwas but a repetition of that
of Susette, with this difference only, that this second
penitent was more reserved and guarded in her acknowledgment of error than the former had been. I
was in consequence less satisfied with her, and doubled
her portion of Ave Marias and Pater Nosters, giving
her also, for the performance of her service the gloom
of evening, instead of the bright morning hours; and this




210       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
young lady having withdrawn, I requested that Aimee:
might be brought to me.
There was some interval between the departure of
Fanchon (with whom Madame Bule had gone out) and
the entrance of Aimee. I was left alone, and the scene
was an impressive one. The church was an ancient
Gothic edifice, richly decorated with carved figures and
ornaments; I was in a chapel of the Virgin, which was
situated at the end of a long arched aisle; all was
motionless around me, and no sound was heard but the
soft low murmuring of the wind among the towers and
battlements; my mind was full of what had just passed,
and the anxious inquiry of Susette respecting what
satisfaction I should require of her recurred to my
thoughts. It was very natural, I perceived, that she
should expect me to insist on her seeking a reconciliation with those whom she had offended, common sense
dictated such a satisfaction, and common justice required it; but the church to which I then belonged had
demanded no such hard service-to put its votaries
out of humour with themselves was no part of its
policy. In the case in question I had acted as a faithful
son of the church, I had regarded its interests; and the
question was suggested to my mind, " Had I or had I
not applied a remedy which would have the smallest
efficacy in humbling a haughty spirit  Is then the
policy of my church calculated merely to promote the
pleasure and present comfort of its votaries, and to
quiet and sooth the conscience, or to remedy the real
evil of our fallen nature 1"
I endeavoured to repress and banish these thoughts,
which appeared to me almost blasphemous. I crossed
myself, and looking up to the image of the Virgin, repeated the angel's salutation, " Hail thou that art highly
favoured, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among
women:" to which I added in Latin, " Hail, Mary, full of
grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among
women. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. —Amen."
I had scarcely concluded this prayer, when a soft
footfall sounded along the aisle, and turning round, I saw
a small figure just entering through the narrow side door
of the church. It was Aimee; she was dressed in white,
and the air from without agitated her flaxen ringlets and
snowy drapery as she advanced towards me, giving an




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.            211
almost ethereal lightness to her appearance. At one
moment, as she passed under each archway, a deep
shade was cast on her figure, and again a golden light
was shed upon it, as she traversed those portions of the
pavement on which the rays of the sun descended
through the richly decorated windows above.  The
purity and beauty of this infant figure, together with the
innocent expression of her gentle eye, as she ascended
the steps of the little chapel at the door of which I was
standing, and looked up to me half timidly, yet as it
were in the noble consciousness of having nothing to
conceal, suggested to my mind the idea of some blessed
spirit just restored to its glorified body, and ascending
from the grave to mount to that place of happiness
which is prepared for the redeemed. The ideal resemblance was presently heightened in my imagination by
the beautiful smile which illuminated every feature, and
sparkled in her eye, as I extended my hand to her, and
said solemnly, " The Saviour of men, and the Lord of
angels bless my little girl, and as she is called the
beloved on earth, may she be truly the beloved in
heaven!" I then took my usual place, and invited her
to confession, by asking her to account to me for the
scene of the past night. This question led to many
others, and in the end I obtained from the lovely child
the following narrative of her short but till then comparatively perfect course, for indeed the words of the
wise man could never have been more justly applied
than to this blameless infant; "He being made perfect
in a short time, fulfilled for a long time, for his soul
pleased the Lord; therefore hasted he to take him away
from among the wicked."
" I was born in England," said the sweet child; " I remember well my native place, it was a white house, and
there were woods near it, and a garden full of flowers;
the house stood on the side of a hill, and from the windows we saw flocks feeding in green fields, and blue hills
at a distance, and villages and groves of trees, and the
woods were so nearus, that when the windows were open
in the summer, we heard the wind rustling among the
trees, and blackbirds and linnets singing in the branches,
and waters rushing, and bees humming. My father used
to bid me hearken to these sounds, and now I never hear
sounds like these without thinking of my home. My
parents were alive then, my dear father," continued the




212       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
little girl, " and my mother, my kind mother, I remember
her dressing-room, and her guitar and'her cabinet. And
I had a brother too, he was two years older than myself;
he had golden hair, and soft bright eyes: and I had a
very little sister. too, and when she was asleep she
looked like an angel; but she died first, and then, father
(and the poor little girl burst into tears), then grief came;
my little sister died, and my brother died-it was of a
fever; and I was taken away and was never sent home
again; and my parents are dead too, and I am here.
I was brought to this place I know not wherefore, and I
have no home in England to return to:" and the child
wiped away a few tears, and then looked up again, as if
awaiting my further questions.
"And are you happy here, Aimee V" I asked.
"Yes, father," she replied; " madame is very kind to
me."
"And have you nothing to complain of " I asked.
"None, father," she replied, "if I might have my
book again."
" Why do you love that book so much V" I asked.
"It was my brother's," she replied; and she wept
again. "May I not have it 1"
" But it is not a proper book, Aimee," I said; " and I
think you know that it is not proper, otherwise why
did you go into a retired place to read it?"
"I always do," she answered.
" And why do you," I asked, " if you do not think
you are doing wrongwhen reading that book!"
"Because nobodyi ere cares for the things that are
in that book," she answered, mildly; " and those are
the things which make me happy."
"What things'" I asked.
" The things I learned when I was a baby. I cannot
forget them;" she replied.
I again asked, " What things V"
"The things papa and mamma taught me, father,"
she answered.
"Please to explain yourself, Aimee," I said; " What
things did your parents teach you?"
" They taught me that my heart is bad, sir, and that I
can do nothing good without God's help."
" Go on," I said.
"And that God had sent his Son to die for me, and
his Holy Spirit to make me good; and they taught me




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.           213
to read-and told me that I was to love my Bible, and
follow all that is written in it."
" But how," I asked, " can a child like you understand
the Bible."
"I don't know, father," she meekly answered.
" Do you pretend to say that you do understand it?"
I asked, and drew her near to me as I sat.
"I have not got a large Bible," she answered; " there
are only small parts of the Bible in my little book; but
even my little Bible tells me many pleasant things."
" What pleasant things, Aimee!" I asked.
" It tells me," she replied, "what my Saviour has
done for me, and I find in it the promises of that happy
world where I shall enjoy a home more pleasant than that
which I have lost, and see my papa and my mamma, and
my brother and sister again. And sometimes, when I
have been reading that little book all alone in the garden, or wherever I can get unseen by any but the eye
of God, I have had such sweet dreams and such delightful thoughts; I fancy I see the world in that time when
Christ shall be King over all the earth. And then I
fancy I see places like what I remember of my happy
home, and my papa and my mamma, and brother and sister, all glorious like angels, and the Lord Jesus Christ in
company with them, and I am so glad to see them happy,
and every thing that is pleasant in this place brings these
things fresher into my mind: and there is a valley, sir, in
the forest, which I often visited last summer, which reminds me, too, of these things. And when I hear music,
or the bells ringing, or the organ at mass, all these things
fill my heart with pleasure, and make me wish that the
time would come when I might go to my dear parents;
but I know that I ought not to be impatient to leave
this world, where you and madame and so many people
are kind to me."
" You talk of much kindness, Aimee," I said; " have
you no unkindness to complain of? have you no feelings
of malice or envy in your heart? you know that if you
have such feelings it is your duty to confess them."
She looked very earnestly at me, and repeated the
word malice, as if she did not understand its meaning,
or at any rate as if she did not take in the purport of
my question.
" To be plain with you, Aimee," I said, "are the young
ladies your companions so kind to you that you never




~214      THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
feel any thing like anger or ill-will towards them T are
you in charity with every one. "
" They were cross with me last night, my father," she
answered.
"And are they not so often." I asked.
I don't think they are," she replied.
"That is, you do not think much about them," I said.
" I do," she replied; " I love them,.yes, I hope I love
them."
" Then you have not perceived that they are unkind
to you i" 1 added.
" Not to me particularly," she answered; " they sometimes quarrel a little among themselves; but is not
that what we must expect. Are not our hearts bad,
father, and do we not all do wrong at times T but when
they are cross I think of my happy home, and then I
do not mind it; and I have such delight sometimes
when I am alone in my room and see the sun set, and
think of that distant time when I shall be with my beloved Saviour, as I could not describe."
" Then it is because your mind is fixed on the world
which is to come, that you do not enter into the quarrels of your companions. My little Aimee," I said, " if
this be the true state of the case, you are a happy child
indeed, happy and blessed beyond all the children I have
ever known; and tell me, my little girl, how long your
mind has been thus devoted to heavenly things 3"
"I do not think that I am  devoted to heavenly
things," she replied; "for I am not good, and people
who are devoted are good, I have heard madame say
so; but it is now many months since my parents died,
and since I lost my brother and sister, and from that
time I have never had so much pleasure in any thing
as in thinking of the time when I shall see my relations
again; and I know that I never shall see them unless I
love my Saviour, and am enabled to obey him; and
these thoughts are always coming to my mind, and I
cannot get rid of them."
" And why, my little fair one," I answered, " should
you wish to get rid of them 1 Do they not make your
happiness, and do they not mark your call to a holy
life. But think you not, my daughter, that if you were
to intercede with the holy Virgin and the blessed saints
that they would join their prayers with yours, and that
you might in this manner more easily obtain all that you




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          215
desire!" and I pointed to the image above the altar, and
directed the child to observe the mild and beautiful.expression of the countenance of her whom I then called
my Lady.
"That image cannot hear me," she replied.
"But she whom it represents, namely, the holy Mary,
can and will hear you, Aimee," I answered: " she will
unite her prayers with yours, in order that all you ask
may be granted you."
" Was not she a woman V" said the little girl doubtingly.
" She was," I replied: " but as our Lord was truly
God, so she, his mother, was the mother of God, and
therefore is worthy that we should address our prayers
to her."
The little girl looked down upon the pavement, but
did not speak till I had repeated some part of what I
had before said; she then lifted up her gentle eyes, and
asked, " Do you pray to the saints, my father    Is it
right to pray to them. My mamma told me that there'is no other name under heaven by which we can be saved
but that of our Lord Jesus Christ."
CHAPTER IV.
I HAVE before hinted that I had already had some little
misgivings respecting the foundation of my faith; and
at that instant such a gleam of light shot through my
hitherto darkened soul, that I could not answer the
child. I remained silent and confused, while the little
one stood meekly before me, being wholly unconscious
of my embarrassment. The tolling of the clock was at
that moment heard from the tower of the church; 1
availed myself of it to say that I had an engagement
which demanded my immediate attention, and bestowing a rapidly pronounced blessing on the little girl, I
hastened from the church, assuring her that I would not
only procure the little book for her, but obtain permission for her to study it whenever she pleased. I spent
the remainder of that day in the solitude of my study.
This little girl is a heretic, I said to myself; what our




216       THE FLOWERS OF'THE FOREST.
church indeed calls such; but there is no malice or bitterness in her heresy; she has not yet even discovered
how widely our religion differs from her own, there is
therefore no prejudice mingled in her mind with her
prepossessions. She takes her faith entirely from the
Bible, as she has been taught to do by her excellent
parents; and surely, if the fruit is to prove the nature
of the tree, we cannot doubt, from the beauty of the
fruit which this dear child is able to produce, that the
root is excellent. While meditating on these subjects,
I took a dusty Latin Bible, which had once belonged to
a priest of the church of Geneva from its shelf in my
study, and began to compare its contents with the received doctrines of our church, and was struck with the
comparison of Matthew xv. 19,-" Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications,
thefts, false witness, blasphemies,"-with the following
clause in our catechism, namely, "Is it possible to
keep them all. (speaking of the commandments.) Answer. It is, by God's grace; Zacharias and Elisabeth
were both just before God, walking in all the commandments of God without reproof." I felt more and more
confounded while meditating on these things; and the
result of these reflections was, that I resolved not to
speak even to Madame Bule of the heretical state, as I
then apprehended it to be, of the little Aimee.
Under this embaraisment of mind I remained in my
study several days, or walked in the most solitary
places I could find, meditating on many things. In the
mean time, Susette and Fanchon having wiped away
their offences, as they thought, by the repetition of the
prescribed modicum of Ave Marias and Paternosters,
returned, not in the least humbled thereby, to their
usual situations in the school-room, where presently
they failed not to administer fresh cause of dissatisfaction to each other, which being taken up by the parties on either side, the whole household was shortly
again all in flames; and Madame Bule found it more
difficult than ever to set things in order. After various
admonitions, all of which she found inefficient, the
worthy lady sent a second time for me, and I undertook to admonish the young people in a discourse,
which, accordingly, I delivered in an apartment of the
house set aside for purposes of this kind, where I had
formerly given many lectures on different subjects to
the young people.




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.         217
I took the text or motto of my discourse from the
various beauties exhibited in a highly cultivated garden.
" I understand, my daughters," I said, " that your minds
have lately been painfully, and I may say sinfully agitated by envious feelings respecting each other, and by
the vain desire of outshining and surpassing each other
in those qualities which you esteem admirable in a human creature. Of the sinfulness of these feelings, my
dear daughters," I continued, "I need not speak; but
on their folly I will enlarge, inasmuch as it seems that
you are not aware of this folly. The Almighty is not
so partial a parent that he has not bestowed some beautiful and excellent quality on each of his children. Look
at the flowers in that blooming parterre which extends
itself beneath the window. Among these some attract
the eye from a distance, some shed powerful odours in
the air, some are endowed with healing qualities, some
retire from the view and are only admirable when closely
inspected; some excel in only one point; some in several, some in every quality attributable to the vegetable
creation: but all are so exquisite in their way, so perfect
in their conformation and their internal construction, that
the utmost art of man would endeavour in vain to imitate the simplest, the most humble flower among them.
Go forth into the forest and observe the leaves of the
trees; compare them one with another; remark the
delicacy of their texture, the infinite variety of their
forms, and make a comparison, if it lies in your power,
of the beauty of one with that of another; say, if you
can, that one is worthy of admiration and another
of contempt; that one is surpassingly fair and another
despicably ugly. And such are each and all of you, my
fair daughters; all and each of you have some beauty,
some perfection, some lovely quality, external or internal, which sets you more on a par with each other than
an inconsiderate observer would at first suppose: thus
the rose of this parterre has no cause to triumph over
the violet, neither has the tulip any occasion to envy
the whiteness of the lily."
Having finished my exordium much to my own satisfaction, though I believe with little effect upon my
audience, I withdrew, and that very evening met
Madame Bule at the chateau, where Madame la Baronne
happening to mention that she intended to give an en
tertainment to the young ladies on the day of her fete
VoL. V.-K




218        THE FLOWERS OF THE FORESTo
(her birthday), Madame Bule thought it necessary to tell
her the state of her family as it regarded the jealousies
and rivalries which subsist among her pupils.
Madame la Baronne smiled at this state of affairs, and
after some reflection said, " Make my compliments to
your young ladies, Madame Bule, and invite them on my
part to the chateau.  Tell them  that my fete this year
is to be called the Feast of the Flowers, and that I shall
expect each young lady to appear adorned with a garland or wreath of her favourite flower;" adding, "I
shall bestow a crown on that young lady whose ornaments please me best; and lest," she added, " my taste
should be disputed, there shall be a motto woven with
the myrtle of which my crown is to be composed, which
shall signify the rule by which I am to make my selection."
Madame Bule assured Madame la Baronne that her
message should be faithfully delivered; and I was very
solicitous to know of the lady what was to be the import of her motto.
" I assure you, father," she replied, " that it shall be
one you shall not dare to disapprove; but lest you
should give a hint to some little favourite you may have,
I cannot tell you." I was therefore obliged, after having
shrugged up my shoulders several times, to acquiesce in
my ignorance.
Madame Bule did not fail to inform  the young ladies
of the kind invitation of the Baronne; and the next day,
when these young people had concluded their morning
exercises, an envoy was sent to request my company at
the collation, in order that I might be consulted respecting preparations for the Feast of the Flowers.
As soon as I arrived, various questions were put to
me by one and by another, to many of which I was not
able to answer.
"To whom," said one, "does Madame la Baronne
mean to give the crown; to the one who has the fairest
garland, or to the one whom otherwise she likes best V"
" With respect to the beauty of the garland," I answered, " it might perhaps be hard to judge; tastes may
differ; one person may think that no wreath can be
compared to that which is formed of roses, while another perhaps might prefer a garland of jasmine as
being more elegant."
6 Then you do not suppose," said another of my in



THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          219
quirers, " that she will bestow the crown on her who
has the fairest wreath!"
"Indeed I cannot tell," I replied.
"You are in the secret, we know, Father Raffre,"
said Mademoiselle Victoire; "we are sure of it."
" Well, it may be so," I answered; "but you shall none
of you be the better for my knowledge. I will for once
keep what I know to myself."
Mademoiselle would have been angry at this, had I
cared for her anger; but as I did not, she proceeded to
discuss the choice of the garlands with her favourite
pupils.
Each one was, it was understood, to select a different
flower, and the eldest chose first; Susette chose the
rose; Fanchon would, she said, be royal, and adorn
herself with the lily; a third selected the jasmine; a
fourth the white thorn. The laurel, the honeysuckle,
the sweet scented clematis, the convolvulus, and the
orange-flower, were none of them forgotten; and as
there was a fortnight to elapse before the day of the
fete, great pains were taken to nourish and preserve
such flowers as might then be required to add beauty and
fragrance to the festival.
It was on the eve of the fete, as I was walking with
Madame Bule in one of the avenues of her garden,
being deep in conversation on subjects which at that
time exercised our minds, in common with many others
-subjects which had indeed some tendencies to what
our church would have deemed heretical; for my opinions on many of our doctrines were beginning to be
more and more confused-when we suddenly heard
several angry voices, proceeding from an arbour, in the
centre of which was a circular range of seats where the
young people often assembled during the hours of
leisure. Standing still and looking through the openings of the trees, we saw several of the lesser children
gathered round Aimee, who had formed a small wreath
for her waxen baby from an azure flowering creeper
which hung in festoons from an archway of lattice-work
at the entrance of the arbour. The exclamations of
rapture uttered by the lesser children had, it seems, attracted the attention of Susette, Fanchon, and several
others of the larger girls; and Susette had expressed so
much admiration of the wreath, as to declare that after
all, Aimee had made the best choice, and that there was
K2




220       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
no wreath hitherto thought of that would prove so light
and beautiful as that she had chosen. It was just at the
moment she had uttered this opinion when madame and
I stood to listen to what was passing.
" The little sly thing!" said Fanchon. " I doubt not
but that she had a wreath of this kind always in her
mind, and that she would not mention it, lest any of her
elders should insist on taking it from her."
"If she had such an intention, she would have done
well to wait a little longer," said Susette; " for it is not
now too late for us her elders to change our minds. I
am out of humour with the idea of wearing red roses;
I have been thinking this very day that I should prefer
another colour for my wreath; I like that beautiful
azure, and I will wear it; and therefore, my little lady,
you must please to look for some other ornament for
yourself."
"I am content," replied Aimee, meekly: adding, "if
you approve it, mademoiselle, I will help you to make
your garland."
" And what will you wear yourself l" said Susette:
" you shall, if you please, adopt the rose I have relinquished."
" I beg your pardon, Susette," said Fanchon; " there
is no one who can come before me but yourself; you
have given up the rose, and I claim it. I here give
notice, that to-morrow I shall wear a garland of roses;
and, as we are all to be different, no one else is to dare
to assume even a rose-bud."
So violent an altercation then ensued between the
rivals, that Madame Bul6 thought it necessary to interfere; and requiring each of the rival ladies to declare
the name of the flower she meant to adopt, she desired
that no change of plans might henceforth be resorted
to. She did not, however, insist upon the blue wreath
being relinquished to Aimee, as I should have thought
but just: it was evident that she was under some dread
of Susette and Fanchon, and was afraid of provoking
them too far; and it certainly was not my business to
interfere, neither did I think the matter of sufficient
consequence to induce me so to do.
Susette accordingly declared again for her wreath of
roses, while Fanchon adopted that of the azure creeper,
which was, in fact, a most elegant ornament. Madame
and I then withdrew; but I had scarcely reached the




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.           221
garden gate on my way home, when I was overtaken by
Aimee, who, placing her little hand within mine, said,
"My father, you walk out, I think, every morning before breakfast."
"I do, my child," I answered.
"Will you permit me to accompany you to-morrow V"
said the little girl. "I have obtained permission from
madame. Will you take me to the forest V"
" Most willingly," I replied. "But for what purpose,
my child!"
She smiled, and with a sweet innocent air, repeated
these words of an ancient ballad of her own province:"The garden is gay with the gaudy weed,
And attired like the jewel'd queen;
But the flowers of the forest are fair indeed,
Though ofttimes doom'd to blow unseen."
The words, Charming little creature! what innocent
device has that gentle bosom  now conceived  were
upon my lips; but I did not utter my thoughts, and simply answered, "I will be at the garden gate before six
o'clock to-morrow morning, my little fair one; be sure
that you are punctual."
The dew was still upon the herbage, and glistened on
every leaf, as I knocked at the garden gate; it was
opened to me at the first signal by the little maiden, and
she ran out to me, all prepared for her appointment, with
a neat basket in her hand.
" Good-morning, fair one," I said; " a blessing from
above be upon my little girl! But whither are we to
bend our steps T"
" To the forest, my father," she replied, "where I
know of certain deep shades in which those flowers
grow of which I wish to make my garland. I only
feared that some other person might think of these
flowers of the forest, which are my delight, and claim
a first right to them, but they have not entered into the
mind of any one; and now no one can take them from
me."
" Oh! oh!" I said, smilingly, "you have, I see, been
acting a cunning part, my little one."
" Cunning!" she repeated: " ah, Father Raffre, that
is an ugly word; do not call me cunning. I would
rather wear a wreath of asphodel than be called a cunning girL"




222        THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
"And why not wear a wreath of asphodel?" I asked.
"Because it is bitter, very bitter," she replied; " but,"
continued she, " was there any harm in my thinking of
a flower and not mentioning it, lest it should be chosen.
I would not be cunning, indeed I would not, for the
whole world; and I have no pretensions to that crown
of myrtle which the lady is to bestow, indeed I have
not; but I wished for my favourite flower for a very
particular reason."
" What may be that very particular reason V" I asked.
" I will give you my reason, father," she answered,
"when you have seen my favourite flower: but I must
tell you that the discourse you made to us about a fortnight since was what led me to think of these things;
and then I remembered a hymn which I had learned
when I lived at my happy home, and some things which
my dear papa taught me when I was a very little child;
and I put all these things together, and when I heard of' the feast of the flowers,' I then fixed upon the garland
I should like to wear, though I did not suppose it would
be left for me."
"Indeed, my Aimee," I answered, "you must be a
little plainer before I can understand you; please to explain yourself; of what things did my discourse lead
you to think 1 and how was what I said connected with
what your father had taught you, and with the hymn
you had learned l Please to explain all these matters
to me."
" You compared us, sir," replied the little girl, "to so
many flowers growing in the garden; and what my dear
papa taught me when I was a little child was this, that
the church of God in this world is compared in the Bible
to a garden, in which grow all sorts of beautiful plants
and flowers: he taught me the very verses, and I have
not forgotten them."
" Repeat them, if you please, my dear child," I said:
for, although I confessed it not, I knew so little of
Scripture as to be utterly ignorant of that beautiful
passage to which the child alluded. She immediately
obeyed, and repeated what follows.
"'A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring
shut up, a fountain sealed. Thy plants are an orchard
of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire with
spikenard; spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes.




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          223
with all the chief spices; a fountain of gardens, a well
of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.'" Song
of Solomon iv. 12-15.
"Very beautiful," I replied, "and well remembered;
but tell me who is it that is supposed to repeat this
passage V"
She answered, " Our Saviour, sir; and he speaks it of
his church."
" Then you imagine," I replied, "that the garden enclosed is the true church, and all the plants therein are
the people."
" Yes, sir," she said; "those who love God are the
plants growing in this garden, and some of them are tall
and noble, like the cedar-tree, and others are small and
of less beauty, others supply pleasant fruit, others are
good only for shade, others are very lovely to look at,
and others fill the air with sweet odours, but altogether
they make the garden very beautiful, and none are to be
despised."
"And do you suppose, Aimee," I asked, "that you
yourself are one of the members of this garden?"
She hesitated a little, and at length said, " I desire to
be one, and I hope I am; but I know that my place, if
I have a place in this happy garden, is a very low one,
down in some very deep valley, and under shade and out
of sight. I think I should not do so well if I were to
be removed to the higher parts of the garden, and
clothed with many colours, and made to be an object of
admiration; for when I am praised I become vain, and
take less delight in holy things than when I am not
noticed."
I was on the very point of commending the ideas of
this little girl, when her last remark gave me a timely
check, and I simply said, "Apparently, your parents took
much pains to give you instruction."
" It was the Bible they used to make me understand,"
she answered; " and when they taught me any thing in
the Bible they showed me something out of doors by
which I was to remember it; and by this means, now
that they are gone away, every thing almost which I
see when I walk abroad reminds me of something I
learned when I was a baby."
" That is," I said, " they took pains to associate natural with spiritual things, and by this beautiful mode of
instruction they have succeeded in impressing their




224       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
holy lessons so strongly upon your mind that you never
can forget them. Let me tell you, my daughter, that
you have reason to bless God for having given you such
parents."
Two gentle tears dropped from her eyes as I spoke:
and at the same moment my conscience reproved me
for having bidden a child to thank God for having given
her parents who were heretics! and then again such
doubts arose in my mind respecting my own principles,
and their foundation in truth, that I walked on a considerable way in silence.
CHAPTER V.
WE had left the village and the chateau behind us,
and were entering on the borders of the forest, before I
extricated myself from the perplexing thoughts in which
I was involved. At length, as we passed under the
shade of the trees which skirted the wood, I recollected
myself, and said, " Aimee, where are you leading me.
How far are we to go?"
" Are you tired, father V" she said. " If you wish it,
I will go no farther; I can make a wreath of any flower
I see in the hedges."
" Tired, my dear child," I said, " tired in your company! No, little sweet one, I could take you by the
hand and travel the world over with you! but you have
raised some anxious thoughts in my mind. I have been
considering what place I occupy in that garden of which
we have been speaking."  She made no answer. I
know not what she thought, but she took my hand, and
kissed it with a courtesy and tenderness which in one
so young were peculiarly beautiful. I think she had a
religious dread of flattering me on a subject so important, yet was anxious to show her gratitude and affection.
We passed-on, and for the space of a quarter of a mile,
pursued a beautiful path which leads through the centre
of the wood. At length, coming to a spot where the
shade was exceedingly thick, she pointed to a very narrow pathway which put itself into the road, and asked
me. if I should object to follow her. I knew the path,




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          225
ft led to a small but deep valley, at the bottom of which
ran a pure cold stream; but I was surprised at its being
so well known to the child, and asked her how she came
to be so well acquainted with the windings of the forest.
" Last summer," she replied, " I was sent after an illness, for change of air, to a cottage in these woods, and
then I learned to know where beautiful flowers grow,
and sweet birds sing; and I have not forgotten these
places," she added, smiling, and tripping lightly before me.
But my little guide in her glee had forgotten that
where she could pass with ease, I, being taller and
larger, would find a thousand obstacles. Accordingly,
when she told me that she had but a very little way to
go for the accomplishment of her object, I bade her
hasten forward, while I followed at my leisure, and in
consequence I soon lost sight of her; but still pursuing,
the same wild and tangled path into which she had led
me, I presently arrived at a more open part of the forest,
from whence I looked down upon a dingle, in the bottom of which was a pool, and on the side of the pool a
sward, which, from its smooth deep green, intimated
the moisture of the place. A ruined cottage, of which:
the gable-end and doorway alone remained entire,
peeped out from amid the trees and underwood. The
rays of the morning sun shot slantingly over the forest,
and shed a flickering, trembling light on. the whole
scene, presenting the most beautiful varieties of light
and shadow. This also was a place for the sweet singing of birds, and for balmy zephyrs, which,.as they passed,
produced that agitation of the leaves which, together
with the rushing of a waterfall,, heard but not seen, filled
my senses with a degree of delight I had not often experienced. At the moment when I had reached the
brow of the dell, my little guide appeared near the bottom, springing, like the gazelle, from one rude steep to
another, and anon I beheld her stooping down to gather
certain flowers which grew here and there on the greensward. The rude trunk of a tree near which I stood
formed a convenient seat; I placed myself upon it, and,
quietly awaited the return of the little fair one. A
quarter of an hour had hardly elapsed, when I saw her
re-ascending the rocky side of the glen, and presently she
stood before me, glowing with delight. At my feet she
set her basket, which was filled with that lovely flowexK 3




226       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
we call the muguet, better known by its more appropriate name the " lily of the valley."
" There, my father," she said, "there are the flowers
which are to compose my garland; and those are the
flowers I would choose for my device. The rose,"
added the little girl in high glee, " is the emblem of beauty,
the laurel of glory, the heart's-ease of content, and the
jasmine of innocence-but what are all these without
my lily of the valley? Tell me, dear father, what is any
good quality without humility!"
"Aimee," I said, in amazement and admiration, not
only of the sentiments of this charming child, but of the
elegant manner in which she expressed them,-" Aimee,
my little one, who taught you all this "V
She looked innocently upon me, and said, " Papa and
mamma used to instruct me in these things; it was
poor papa who taught me that the lily of the valley was
the type of humility, and sometimes when I pleased him
he called me his lily. Ah, sir, I wish I were really like
the lily; for the lily loves the cool valley and shadowy
places by the streams of living waters."
" Sweet child," I answered, " you are indeed a lily of
the valley. Would to God," and I crossed myself as I
spoke, " would to God I were a lily too!"
" No, sir, no," she replied, " you shall not be a lily,
but you shall be a noble tree, planted by the water-side,
and I will dwell under your shade."
I was affected-I could not help it; the tear trembled
in my eye; which the little girl observing, she stooped
down and kissed my hand, at the same time taking up
her basket. Having obtained what we wanted, we
turned our steps towards our home, and as we went
along we remarked other flowers growing in the forest;
among these the wood anemone and the party-coloured
vetch particularly attracted our attention, and we wondered that things so beautiful should have been formed
in places where none saw and none admired; and this
led me to speak of the infinite goodness of God, and of
his bounty towards the children of men.
At length we reached our village, and parting at the
garden gate, I retired to my study to examine the Holy
Bible respecting those passages to which my little companion had alluded. And in that long quiet day, a day
never to be forgotten by me, such convictions flashed
upon my mind respecting the errors-of my church, that




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          227
before the evening hour I was almost, if not entirely,
as much what my people would have called a heretic
as I now am, although I had not yet made up my mind
to acknowledge my belief, and give all up for the truth.
Scarcely had the ardent heat of the day subsided,
when, according to appointment, I repaired to the chateau; where, having passed the avenue of linden-trees,
which then extended from the gate of the domain to
the lawn in front of the mansion, I entered upon a
scene which chased away, for a time, the perplexing
thoughts by which I had been agitated during the greater
part of the morning. Figure to yourselves, my gentle
readers, an ancient many-windowed stone mansion,
whose fashion spoke of at least two centuries past, in
the almost perpendicular roof of which were three tiers
of windows, peeping out from the moss-covered tiles,
closed with wooden shutters instead of casements. In
the front of this ancient and in some respects dilapidated
mansion extended the lawn, in the centre of which was
a square marble basin, where a huge Triton spouted
water from a cone to the height of many feet, affording
rather the idea than the reality of freshness.  On each
side of the lawn, yet answering exactly to each other, a
statue, an arbour, and an archway of trellis-work opening into certain gardens beyond, alternated with each
other, according to the formal taste then prevalent in my
country. The lawn was set forth with several long
tables, covered with fruit, cakes, cream, and other refreshments; while on an elevated scaffolding near the
centre of the open space was a band of musicians, who
from time to time gave us a national air, while waiting
the commencement of the dancing, which was to. take
place towards the end of the evening.
The company for whom this fete was prepared were,
without exception, every inhabitant of the village who.
was able either to walk or be carried to the chateau, together with some superior persons from the neighbourhood, who had come by special invitation.-These, the
superiors of the party, were, with the Baronne, grouped
at the upper end of the lawn, sitting, standing, or moving
about, as it suited them; the inferior persons being at the.
lower end, or in the centre, according to their stations
in society, but all seemed equally gay and happy; I saw
not a solemn countenance as I made my progress round
the circle. I had almost omitted to describe a very iix,




228       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
portant part of the show, whereat I much wonder, corasidering that it is the feast of the flowers to which I am
endeavouring to bring my readers in imagination, and
this was a statue on a pedestal which stood exactly in a
line with the front of the house, at the bottom of the
lawn. This statue was a female one, and therefore
suited very well to serve as, a representation of the
goddess Flora; she was richly decorated with garlands
and wreaths, and on her head was placed the crown of
myrtle, through which was twisted an azure riband, on
which a motto was wrought in threads of gold. The
crown on the statue was pointed out to me by the persons who stood near it, and I attempted to decipher the
motto, if such there might be, but I was not able, for
the riband was so curiously and artificially twisted that
I could only make out part of a word here and there,
and was therefore obliged to rest in my ignorance.
The party were all assembled when I arrived on the
lawn, with the exception of the family of Madame Bul6,
but while I was paying my compliments to the Baronne
on the arrangement of the scene, the excellent instructress and her numerous train appeared at the end of the
avenue.
"There come our queens of the May," said the Baronne;
and she ordered a beautiful and lively air to be struck
up, while she advanced with the ladies and gentlemen.
of the party to meet the elegant procession. And elegant indeed it was; elegant, and gay, and various, and
fragrant. First came Susette and Fanchon, the rival:
queens, all attired in white, and decorated, the one
with rose-buds, the other with the azure creeper before
mentioned; ribands of rose colour and of blue were mingled with the several garlands; the next pair were the
acanthus and the laurel, with scarfs of green and purple; then came the fragrant hyacinth, and the auricula,.
the woodbine and the columbine adorned another smiling pair; and as each lovely couple passed by the group
of ladies and gentlemen,. they greeted and were greeted
by smiles and courtesies, as gracefully bestowed and
received as if the lawn had been a royal presencechamber, and the Baronne a crowned head. As each
lovely pair passed the Baronne the parties separated,
and formed a variety of blooming and lovely groups
around the company, meriting and receiving that admisatioa which was due to their smiling and charming,




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.           229
figures, and the taste which each had displayed in the
arrangement of her fragrant ornaments. The last of
the procession was Madame Bule herself, leading the
youngest of her pupils and little Aimee by the hand:
the exercise and excitement of the scene had given an
extraordinary lustre to the complexion of my little
favourite, yet her eyes retained their usually placid and
gentle expression. She seemed to be attentive to what
passed, and also pleased; but there was not that restless
anxiety in her countenance which was remarkable in all
those among her companions who thought they had any
chance of obtaining the crown; her enjoyment of the
scene was therefore as unmixed as it had been when
she was gathering her favourite flowers in the depths of
the forest. She, like the rest of her companions, was
attired in white, and with no other head-dress than
those clustering ringlets which, together with the delicate tincture of her skin, marked her Saxon ancestry.
She had formed a lovely garland of her lilies, having
woven them together with a band of light-green ribands,
tied on her right shoulder with a knot, and falling under
her left arm. I saw the eyes of the Baronne rest upon
this lovely child for a moment; but as soon as Madame
Bule dropped her hand, she receded into the background, and her elegant form was soon wholly shrouded
by the more splendid figures of her companions.
Our nation are remarkable for being able to pay a
compliment with grace and delicacy; and what occasion, I would ask, could have administered fairer opportunities of doing this with truth than the present 
Neither were the gentlemen, or even the ladies, then
present, slow in availing themselves of these opportunities; every comparison or simile in which flowers
have any concern was called forth on the occasion, and
the exhilaration of the moment enabled even the most
dull to do this with effect. But did I say dull t What
Frenchwoman was ever dull in a scene such as the
lawn then presented.
"Your Feast of the Flowers,Madame la Baronne," said
the Viscomtesse de T-, " is splendid, is superb-it
surpasses all I could have conceived of a thing of the
kind. Yet I cannot say that these elegant garlands add
beauty to these charming young ladies; I would rather
say that these flowers derive new splendour from the
beauty of those who wear them."  And she appealed;




230       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
for the confirmation of her assertion to the Comte de
S-, one of the few specimens then remaining of the
court of Louis XVI.
Being thus called upon, the old courtier endeavoured
to produce some compliment of a superior nature to
that of the lady, and asserted, that the roses were grown
pale, and the jasmines yellow, for envy, to find that
their bloom and sweetness were entirely surpassed by
those who had chosen them for ornaments.
This species of light and trifling conversation had proceeded for some time, when the Baronne took her place
beneath the statue, and, having commanded the band
to cease their strain, caused the crown to be handed to
her; while, by the direction of Madame Bule, the young
ladies formed a half-circle around her, the rest of the
company, of whatever degree they might be, gathering
close in the back-ground.
There was a momentary pause and dead silence in
the company, while a servant climbed upon the high
pedestal of the statue and carefully lifted the crown
from the head. It was then delivered into the hands
of the Baronne, and as I stood next to her, I saw that
it was a beautiful thing; it was not of real myrtle,
which would presently have faded, but was an imitation of myrtle, the leaves being formed of foil, the
flowers of gold and mother-of-pearl, and the berries of
coral; it was beautifully executed, and the motto, in letters of gold wrought on a blue riband, twisted into the
wreath. The Viscomtesse de T, who stood on the
right-hand of the Baronne, as I did at the left, would
have taken it for a moment into her own hands, exclaiming, " Permit me, madame; ah, how beautiful! it
is perfectly captivating!" But the Baronne would not
part with it from her hand, nor suffer the golden letters
on the blue riband to be read.
" I am, I feel," she said, " in a perilous situation; I
am about to make a choice amid so many beauties, that
I shall be in danger of incurring the odium of possessing a bad taste in still rejecting the most worthy,
let my choice fall where it will; and I therefore have
nothing but my motto to depend upon to extricate me
from this difficulty: therefore none must see my motto,
till I choose to show it myself."
The Baronne then paused and looked around her, and
as her eye ran along the lovely circle, I saw that sev



THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.            231
eral of the young ladies changed colour, especially the
two at the head, namely, Susette and Fanchon; and
such was indeed the charming bloom of one of these
young ladies, and the elegance of the other, that I never
doubted but that the crown would be adjudged to one
of them.
" You are at a loss, madame, I see," said the Comte
de S, " and I cannot wonder at your embarrassment;
there are so many beautiful figures in this circle, that it
would be very difficult to say to whom the golden apple
ought to be given."
"Pardon me," replied the lady, in a voice which,
though low, was so distinct as to be heard by all present, " but you have mistaken my intention.-It is not
to the most beautiful or the most accomplished, the
fairest or the ruddiest, the most witty or the most discreet, that my crown is to be given; but to her who,
in my opinion, understands how to select the most becoming ornament."
" So far we understand madame," said the Abbe,' nor would we be so impolite as to question your taste.
Madame la Baronne can never be supposed to judge
amiss in the eyes of persons of discernment, but perhaps we may not all here present be persons of discernment, and madame has undertaken to render every
person in this company satisfied with her decision, and
she depends upon her motto to stop the mouths of every
one. Indeed, madame, unless your motto is a very extraordinary one, I do declare" (and he shrugged up his
shoulders and smiled) "you are in great peril. I am, I
confess, in great pain for you, madame."
" Well, then, my friend," replied the Baronne, " I will
hasten to place you at ease. Ladies and gentlemen,
you shall hear my motto, and I am assured that no one
here present will dispute its authority when I assure
them that it is divine, and that it is taken from the Holy
Scriptures." So saying, she untwisted the riband from
the myrtle crown; and stating that the passage was addressed by St. Peter to his female converts, she proceeded to read it in a soft, yet clear and distinct voice:
it was to the following effect:-" Whose adorning let
it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and
of wearing of gold, or putting on of apparel; but let it
be the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in
the sight of God of great price." 1 Peter iii, 3.




232     THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
CHAPTER VI.
WHEN the Baronne had ceased to read, she looked up,
and her eyes were directed to Aimee. "The lily of
the valley," she said, " is the acknowledged emblem of
humility; this sweet flower conceals its beauties within
its verdant covering; it is spotless, pure, and fragrant;
its leaves have a cooling and healing influence; it loves
retirement and shade, yet when brought to view is exquisitely lovely. The lily, therefore, I must consider
as the best chosen ornament for a youthful female, and
therefore I must adjudge my crown to her that wears
the lily."
There was a murmur of applause throughout the assembly on this decision, and every eye was fixed on
the little girl, who came blushing forward at the command of the lady.
" Aimee," said the Baronne, as the lovely child bowed
humbly before her, "I rejoice that I can, with a sincere
feeling of love and esteem, bestow on you this simple
preference; your character has long been known to me,
and the purity, humility, and harmlessness of your conduct, since you entered the family of Madame Bule,
have not only been noticed by me, but have filled me
with admiration. In those talents and external qualities which are pleasing in our sex you have many equals
now present, and you will thoroughly understand, that
the regard I now express has no reference to these
qualities; it is your humility and your holy harmlessness, your exemption from envy, and your freedom from
bad passions, which constitute your chief and crowning
ornament, even that ornament which is above all price."
So saying, she raised the myrtle crown above the
head of Aimee, and was about to place it there, when
the little girl, bending low and falling on one knee, in a
manner which I thought exceedingly graceful, raised
her lovely eyes to the lady and said, "Ah, madame,
could I wear that crown I should prove to all here assembled what is but too true, that I have not deserved
it. I desire, indeed, to be like the lily; but I am not




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.           233
so. I know my own heart; I know that it is full of
evil passions, and if I do not betray these evil passions
so often as I feel them, it is not to my own strength I
dare to give the glory. My dear lady, do not put the
crown upon my head."
There was a dead silence in the assembly, every one
was impressed with a solemn feeling: at length it was
broken by the lady, who said, while holding the myrtle
wreath over the head of the kneeling child, " Aimee, my
beloved, indeed you must not resist our united entreaties,
you must submit to wear the honour you have so justly
merited."
" Ah, no, lady, dear lady!" she replied, lifting up her
face as she knelt, with a sweet and unaffected earnestness; "no, no! it cannot be;" and at the same time gently
removing the garland of lilies from her shoulders and
laying it on the grass at the Baroness's feet. " I am
neither worthy to wear the lily nor the crown; sweet
lady, place the crown upon the garland, and then I will
endeavour to merit both; at least," she added, " if not in
life, yet perhaps in death, for then-then I shall be —."
But we could not catch the last part of the sentence,
for the little girl was unable to speak clearly, by reason
of her tears.
" Aimee! lovely Aimee! sweet, sweet child! you have
conquered," exclaimed the Baronne, laying the crown at
her feet upon the garland, and then coming forward, she
embraced the child, and wept as she pressed her to her
heart.
It was an awful feeling that impressed the company
at that moment; the tear was in every eye. The Abbe
whispered to me, " Heaven have mercy upon me a sinner!
If that child thinks herself impure in the eyes even of
her fellow-creatures, what am I in the sight of God!"
and he crossed himself. I heard expressions of the same
nature from many mouths; and Susette pleased me
much, by assuring me that she now felt ashamed of herself and of her own vainglorious opinions of her merits.
It is hardly necessary that I should assure my reader
that the conduct of Aimee on this and on all other occasions evidently showed that there was no art or affectation in her conduct-no pretence of humility which she
did not actually feel, but really a deep and heartfelt
sense of her own unworthiness, and an utter disregard
of what effect might result from her conduct, or what




234       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
impression it might make on those who were present.
I mention this, for although it is a lovely thing to see
true humility in a child; nothing is more displeasing to
God, or more offensive to those of our fellow-creatures
whose minds are well regulated, than to perceive attempts to display a humility which is not really felt.
In the mean time the Baronne ordered the garland
and crown to be carried to the church, and to be placed
in the Lady chapel there; and it was some time before
the assembly could so far divest themselves of their
serious feelings as to enter into the amusements of the
evening. As to myself, I must confess that it was during
that evening that I for the first time made any serious
reflections on the violence which the mind suffers in
being drawn from solemn feelings into those which are
merely earthly, and the contrary; and I was led to think
that human wisdom consisted in avoiding those excitements of earthly pleasure by which the feelings more
suited to our state as dying creatures are rendered distasteful and uncongenial to our minds.
After the Feast of the Flowers, several months passed
during which nothing particular took place in our private
circle worthy of record.
During this period our minds were much agitated by
public affairs; that dreadful revolution, so awful in its
progress and so wonderful in its effects, had commenced.
The capital was already in confusion, but we in the
provinces still only heard the thunder rolling in the
distance.
In the mean time, the remainder of the summer and
the whole of the autumn and winter passed away. In
the middle of the winter I was seized with a rheumatic
complaint, which confined me to my bed till towards the
end of spring. During this period a friend undertook
my duty, and I saw little of my people; my Bible was,
I thank God, my constant companion at that time, and
the reading thereof, I have reason to think, was blessed
to me in a degree which can hardly be conceived. It
was thought, however, necessary when I left my bed
that I should change the air, and accordingly I was
carried from my bed to the chaise which was to convey
me to the house of a married sister, who lived not very
far from Rouen; there I remained two months, but at the
end of that period was much distressed by letters from
the Baronne, who informed me that a contagious disg




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.            235
order had broken out with violence in the house of Madame Bule; that many of the children were very ill, and
that our little Aimee was in peril of her life.
It was very late in the spring when I received this
news, and as my health was nearly re-established, I lost
no time, but hastened back to my flock-that flock which I
was destined soon to quit under the most painful circumstances, and to quit for life; for the door of my restoration to my former place is for ever shut against mie-my
principles would now be held in abhorrence by those
who loved me formerly-nor could I, even if permitted,
now take a part in services of whose idolatry I have
been long assured. But no more of this: it has no doubt
been good for me and for others of my countrymen,
that their ancient ties have been dissolved-ties which
bound us to the world and to a false religion, and which
we should never have had strength to break by our own
efforts.
It was a glorious evening in the end of May when I
arrived within view of my own village, from which I
had been absent many weeks. I had quitted the public
vehicle in which I had travelled, on the opposite bank of
the Seine, and having crossed the river in a small boat,
I proceeded on foot the short remainder of my journey.
As soon as I left the boat I was in my own parish, I was
in fact at home, and I was making my way along an
embowered pathway towards the village, when I overtook a decent peasant in her best apparel going the same
way. To my inquiry, " How is it with you, neighbour
Mourque 1 How are all our friends!" she replied, " Ah!
Father Raffre, we have lost one of our fairest flowers,
and I am now going to see the last duties paid to her
blessed remains."
" Our flowers," I repeated; " not my lily, I trust; is it
Aimee who is no more V"
" It is, sir," she replied; " and when I last saw her at
the chateau I thought the little angel would never live to
enjoy another fete; such as she, father, are not for this
world-nay, her own very words, when she refused
the crown and spoke of what she should be, proved to
me how it would be, and others said the same. But the
crown and the garland, are to be placed on her coffin, sir;
the garland indeed is withered and shrunk, but the crown
is not made of such things as can fade, they tell me;
but it will be a touching spectacle, and surely, sir, there




236       THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
will not be many absent from the church this evening
who were at the lady's feast of flowers."
I was so affected that I could not speak: so the good
woman proceeded without interruption.
She informed me of many things concerning the sickness and death of the dear child; and of the grief of the
Baronne and of Madame Bule, who both together, as she
said, waited on the dear child day after day and night
after night; and she told me how she had prayed while
her senses had been continued to her, and how she had
again and again called upon her Saviour, and spoken of
her hope of being speedily taken to him who had died for
her-and how she had expressed her love for her instructress and the lady of the chateau, and her tender regard for
her school-fellows-" but," added the peasant, with some
emotion of manner and some expression of regret, "it is
a grief to me to think that the poor child was so insensible when the priest attempted to administer the last
sacrament, that she knew nothing of what passed; she
was as insensible to the holy anointing as a lifeless babe;
neither did she take the smallest notice of the holy cross
which was held before her-the Lord, have mercy on
her soul! I am thinking, father, could she have been a
heretic? Was she not from England?" 
" Ah!" I said, " was it so 3'tis true, she was from England."
The woman started at the manner in which I spoke,
and looked anxiously at me, saying, "Do you doubt,
sir 3 do you doubt of her final happiness V"
I interrupted her, " Ah! would to God," I answered,' that I were as blessed and happy as that dear child now
is! On whom did she call in her dying hours, whom did
she live only to please, to whom did she give all the
glory, but unto the only true Saviour —He who is above
all saints and angels, the God incarnate, He by whom
alone the sinner can be saved."
The poor woman crossed herself as I spoke, and assented to my assertion.
" Blessed little lamb!" I exclaimed, " and art thou
gathered to the fold of the only true Shepherd. Sweet
lily of the valley! and art thou removed to a more con-.
genial soil? but who shall fill the place which thou hast
left."
At that instant the tower of the church'broke upon
my view as we turned an angle of the road, and a disa




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.          237
tant sound of choral harmony burst upon my ear. I
was ashamed of it, but I could not help it; I burst into
tears and wept like a child. I did not know till that moment how dear the orphan Aimee was to my heart. I
roused myself, however, and walked on, and a few steps
brought me to the entrance of the village street, and
in full view of the western front of the church, the
great door of which being open, I could distinguish
the crowd within, and hear the soft melody of the human
voice attuned with the full-toned organ within, in such a
chant, so solemn, so touching, so sublime, as seemed to
raise my mind above all earthly feelings, and make me
(I was about to say) desire to be with my Aimee, absent
from the body and present with my Lord. As I advanced I perceived that all the houses in the street were
deserted, and the deep silence which reigned amid these
dwellings enabled me to hear the requiem more clearly
and more distinctly.
At length, as I passed under the doorway of the church,
I found myself in a crowd, not only of my own parishioners, but of persons from the neighbouring villages who
had assembled on this solemn occasion; however, way
was immediately made for me, and I advanced towards
the high altar, before which was the coffin of my beloved
Aimee, covered with a white pall, and beyond it, in a
semicircle, stood all her former companions. But there,
in that sad hour-sad for us who remained, yet most
blessed for her who was gone-were no garlands of
roses, no flaunting ribands, no gaudy attire; each fair
young creature wore a long white veil; and even the
once blooming cheeks of Susette were pale with grief
and moist with tears-nay, the very levity of Mademoiselle Victoire had given way on this affecting occasion,
and she stood a monument of silent wo. Ah! did she not
remember then all her cruel behaviour towards the gentle child whose cold remains were stretched before her!
On the white pall lay the faded garland of the lily of
the valley; an affecting emblem of her who had plucid
those flowers and woven that garland, affecting to all,
yet how much more so to me, who so well remembered
the gay delight of the holy little fair one when she had
obtained the object of her innocent and elegant desiresan emblem consecrated by holy writ, which says, "As
for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field,
so he flourisheth; for the wind passeth over it and it is




238        THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
gone, and the place thereof knoweth it no more." Psalm
ciii. 15, 16. No eye looked up when I approached the
altar, though all, as I afterward found, had been aware
of my presence. I came up near to the coffin at the
moment when the last note of the requiem was dying
away along the vaulted aisles, and at the same instant
Madame la Baronne came forward with the myrtle
crown in her hand. The garland had been formed of
perishable materials, but not so the crown-as compared
with the garland of lilies, at least, it was imperishableit was fresh and fair as it had first appeared; it thus
formed a beautiful emblem  of that "crown of glory
which fadeth not away;" and it was an emblem which
all present understood, though no one spoke to point it
out. It was laid upon the coffin over the faded garland
by the Baronne herself, and when she had stopped to
kiss the pall, Madame Bule and all her pupils stepped
forward to follow her example; after which the service
proceeded, and the remains of our little beloved one
were consigned to the dust in the vault of the family of
the chateau.
I remained alone in the church when all the congregation had withdrawn, and it was then that I solemnly
resolved to renounce the vanities in which I had been
educated, and, with the Divine help, to quit all earthly
considerations to follow the truth as it is stated in the
Holy Scriptures, unto all extremities to which my abandonment of the Church of Rome might reduce me.
I was speedily strengthened in this resolution by the
afflictions of my country, and forced by persecution to
fly from that land in which under more prosperous circumstances I might have been again involved in the
mazes of error and of death.
And here I close my little narrative, leaving my Aimee
to rest in her cold grave in a distant land.
This lily of the valley was indeed nipped ere yet it had
attained its perfect growth; its stem was cut down
tothe earth while yet its flower was in the bud; but
the root has not perished; it lives still beneath the sod,
and in the morning of the resurrection it shall be translated from the wild forest of this world to the garden of
our Lord, where it will bloom with a celestial lustre, and
enjoy a never-fading verdure. The grass withereth, the
flower fadeth; but the word of our God shall stand for
ever: and blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.




THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.               239
The lilies of the field,
That quickly fade away,
May well to us a lesson yield,
Who die as soon as they.
Then let us think of death,
Though we are young and gay;
For God, who gave us life and breath,
Can take them both away.
THE END OF THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.








JULIANA OAKLEY.








JULIANA OAKLEY.
CHAPTER I.
Some account of her Parents and Family-Her Father goes abroad,
and she is sent for by her Grandmother-Her Journey with Mrs.
Bridget to Hartley Hall-Arrival there; and introduction to the
old lady, Uncle Barnaby, and Cousin Cicely.
ALTHOUGH it has pleased my heavenly Father to protract my life to an advanced age, and although, during
that period, among a thousand experiences of his tender love and paternal care, I have been made to pass
through many scenes of trial, in the various characters
of wife and mother; yet there are certain scenes of my
childhood, of which I retain so affecting a recollection
that I cannot think of them even to this day without
tears. But inasmuch as that I would willingly caution
others from falling into such errors as those which to
this moment imbitter some of the remembrances of my
girlish days, I shall enter into a detail of the particulars
to which I allude, and for this purpose must make my
reader acquainted with many of the circumstances of
my early life.
The person who will fill up one of the most important
places in my history is my grandmother. She was an
heiress, and was in her bloom so far back as the reign
of George I. She married early, and was left a widow
with two children soon after her marriage. I know not
what sort of a person her husband was, nor am I acquainted with any particulars respecting him, excepting
that he wore, on occasion, a full-bottomed wig, and a
coat and waistcoat richly trimmed with gold lace, in
which costume he was painted at three-quarters length,
and made no despicable figure in his gilt frame, over the
fireplace in the great drawing-room at Hartley Hall.
I never could perceive that my grandmother suffered
L 2,




244              JULIANA OAKLEY.
much from the loss of her husband. She was a woman
of too high and independent a spirit to be very happy in
a married state, and therefore, though often solicited to
change her situation by a second marriage, could never
be brought to listen to any overtures of the kind; but,
after her husband's death, devoted the remainder of her
youth, and her more mature years, in performing the
office of her own steward, seeing that her maids did not
neglect their spinning-wheels, and putting out her savings on the best securities.
In the mean time, though counted one of the most
prudent women of her time, and held up as a pattern of
good management, it appears that it never entered into
her head, that there could be any means of promoting
the well-being of her children more effectual than that
of increasing their future properties. This being the
case, my uncle and mother were left wholly without
education, excepting what my grandmother's maid and
the butler could supply; with the occasional assistance
of the curate of the village, who sometimes gave my
uncle a'few lessons in the rudiments of Latin; and assisted my mother in certain rude attempts, which she
now and then made, to write joining-hand in such a
manner as should be legible.
In the mean time, these young people, being perpetually left to themselves, made the servants their constant
companions: and while my poor mother was romping
with the maids in the housekeeper's room  and the
kitchen, my uncle found store of amusement in the
stable and dog-kennel. It may be asked how it was
possible for a clever woman like my grandmother, and
one who was so particularly attentive to some of her
duties, to be thus careless of her children, and thus blind
to their real interest; but the state of the case is this,
that, independent of the blindness with respect to their
children, too commonly seen in parents in.,these days
of comparative light, education was not then understood
as it is now; added to which considerationii children
were at that time kept at so great a distance by parents,
that the latter had not the opportunities which they now
have, of studying and examining their characters: and
hence were liable to be deceived by them in a degree
which can hardly be believed in the present state of
things.
But not to dwell any longer on this subject, which is




JULIANA OAKLEY.                245
not altogether to my present purpose, I shall shortly
state that this education, such as I have described it,
failed not to produce the effects which might be expected: my uncle, when grown up, was fit only to be
the companion of his own gamekeeper or coachman:
and my mother married, early in life, so very imprudently that my grandmother would never forgive her,
and, indeed, could never be prevailed upon to see her
again. What my father's situation was when he married my mother, I know not; but a commission in a
marching regiment was bought for him by my mother's
family, immediately after his marriage: and when I can
first recollect any thing, I was living with my parents in
that unsettled state to which persons are liable who
make the army their profession.
I have an exceedingly confused idea of the years that
passed before I was twelve years old. The number of
scenes which I went through-the number of persons I
became acquainted with-the multiplicity of faces which
passed before me-the extraordinary variety of shabby
lodgings, apartments in barracks, tents, and inns, in
which I lived with my parents, for days, weeks, or
months, as it might happen-the perpetual interchanges
and successions of soldiers' wives, wearing felt hats, and
gilt earrings, who performed the parts of my mother's
waiting-maids and my governesses, during this period,
have left such a medley of ideas in my mind, that it
would be almost an Herculean labour to attempt to reduce them to any thing like order or regularity. Suffice
it to say, that, during this time, the regiment in which I
was born was stationed, for the most part, in some of the
most remote and wild districts of the Highlands of Scotland; and in those parts of western Ireland whose
shores are for ever invaded by the waves of the stormy
Atlantic; and where the shrieks of the sea-gull among the
rocks convey to the superstitious natives such ideas as fill
the gossips' tale with images of horror and amazement.
Sometimes, indeed, we were removed, for a season,
from the solitary forts and garrisons which are found
in these situations, to certain little country towns, in
different parts of the United Kingdom; and then, though
quartered in small, inconvenient, and often sordid lodgings, these situations were commonly so abundant in
opportunities of amusement to my mother, and the
ohter ladies of the regiment, that I was commonly




246             JULIANA OAKLEY.
more neglected than usual when in stations of this
kind.
At length the regiment was ordered to Gibraltar; on
which occasion my grandmother sent over her own
maid to Dublin, where we were then stationed, with a
handsome present to my mother, together with a request that I should be delivered to her charge.
I do not recollect that any objection was made by
either of my parents to this arrangement of my grandmother's; but, as I had been hitherto allowed to run
almost wild, a great bustle was made in order to prepare me for a decent appearance in the presence of the
old lady, who was known to be very eagle-eyed, with
respect to such matters as affect externals.
On this occasion I was taken from the hands of the
sergeant's wife, who happened at that period to be my
mother's confidential servant, and was fitted with a pair
of stiff stays, directed to hold up my head and drop my
shoulders; and was provided with a brocade slip, a hoop
petticoat, and other suitable ornaments.
These things being prepared, I was led by my parents
to the bay, and there embarked in a packet with Mrs.
Bridget, my grandmother's maid; who, by-the-by, appeared to me to be the finest lady I had ever seen in my
life. I have no recollection of what I felt when I
parted from my parents, nor can I distinctly call even
their persons to mind; this probably arose from my
having been less intimately associated with them than
with their servants. For although I have so faint a
recollection of the authors of my being, the figure of
the sergeant's wife, as she stood upon the pier looking
after us, while the sailors put off with me to the packet,
is still as present with me as if I had seen it only yesterday. She was an Irish woman, from the province of
Connaught, and might have been tolerably good-looking
had she not had hair of a carroty red, with abundance of
freckles. She was dressed in a man's beaver hat, and
man's shoes and stockings, having no cap, and her hair
in part turned up with a comb, the rest hanging about
her ears. She wore a short blue petticoat and jacket,
with a woollen apron, the corner of which she held up
to her eyes, as she called after me with a piercing voice,
to bid me adieu, denominating me her jewel, her darling,
and precious life.
I remember, that I looked upon her with tears in my




JULIANA OAKLEY.               247
eyes, till I was lifted out of the boat, and put up tne side
of the packet, where such a variety of novel objects presented themselves that I probably soon forgot my sorrow. Thus closed my military career, and the first
period of my childhood. A favourable wind soon wafted
the packet over to the shores of England, and, in a few
hours after my separation from my parents, I found myself in a post-chaise with Mrs. Bridget, on my way to
Hartley Hall.
I do not precisely remember how I first opened a conversation with Mrs. Bridget, for whom I had conceived
a very high respect; but I well recollect, that before we
had advanced far on our road, in the manner I have
described, she began to hint to me that it would be
necessary for me to lay aside many practices in which
I had hitherto allowed myself. " For instance, miss,"
she said, " you must not pick your teeth with your fingers, as you have seen those wild Irish do; nor stoop
your head till your ears and shoulders salute each other;
nor sit as you now do, kicking your feet and scratching
your head; but you must behave like a pretty miss and
a young lady, and hold yourself proper; and be sure
never cool your tea in your saucer, and then blow it, as
you did this morning at the inn." Much more, to the
same purpose, did Mrs. Bridget say to me; but it so
happens that the memory, which of all our faculties is
the most capricious, will not assist me to detail any
more of her injunctions; and, indeed, it is almost marvellous that I should have recollected so many, inasmuch as my reader will see that they were not delivered
with any manner of attention to system or order; but
that small and monstrous offences against propriety
were weighed in the same balance, and placed together
in the same forcible point of view.
But to go on with my history: this, my first lecture,
continued till we were arrived at the place where we
were to sleep. We travelled the whole of the next day,
and expected to reach Hartley Hall before six o'clock
on the following evening.
When, on the last day of our journey, we stopped at
the town which was only one stage from my grandmother's, Mrs. Bridget took me apart, dressed me in the
clothes which had been prepared by my mother, for my
appearance before the old lady, and repeated all her injunctions respecting my behaviour; taking this occasion




248              JULIANA OAKLEY.
to impress upon my mind that which she had repeatedly
said to me during my journey, viz. that my grandmother
was a lady of high respectability-that my family was
of more consequence than any untitled family in the
country-that although I had hitherto lived in an humble
way, I was a young lady by birth, and would probably
inherit a large fortune-that she had been ashamed to
see me in the hands of such a low person as my late
servant-that a waiting-woman was not fit to serve a
lady, unless she had something smart and polite in her
deportment, and had received the education of a gentlewoman; and that henceforth she hoped I would be above
familiarity with low persons, but would behave myself
genteel, and with suitable dignity, according to my rank.
In this manner I was tutored by the waiting-maid, and,
inasmuch as feelings of pride are by no means incompatible with the grossest ignorance, and the utmost
habitual coarseness of mind, I was by no means backward in inhaling the ideas which Mrs. Bridget desired
to convey to my mind; and thus I soon found in myself
every disposition to become as fine a lady as my new
friends could wish me to be.
The waiting-lady's lecture and my toilet were scarcely
concluded, before the arrival of my grandmother's coachand-four at the inn; and I, who but a few days before
had been glad of the attendance of an Irish sergeant's
wife, was handed into this handsome carriage by a smart
footman.
We made the last stage of our journey with such
rapidity that I was quite surprised when Mrs. Bridget
pointed out to me the family seat, as seen at a distance.
It stood on a slight elevation, in the centre of a plain,
and was surrounded by woods, the approach being
through a long avenue. The house itself was of brick,
and extended itself in two large wings, conveying the
idea of that kind of splendour which proceeds from magnitude.
When we came to the porter's lodge, at the entrance
of the avenue, and began to approach through the
grounds towards the house, I remember that I could not
contain myself any longer, but broke out into some expression of admiration; whereby I again brought upon
myself the reproaches of Mrs. Bridget, who told me
that nothing in the world was so vulgar as to seem full
of wonder and amazement. "It looks just," said she, "as




JULIANA OAKLEY.               249
if a person came out of a wood, or had never seen any
thing decent or genteel in their lives before. Do, dear
miss," she added, " do, I pray, keep your wonder to yourself, let what will happen, or the very footman will be
sneering and making a jest of you."
I promised my tutoress that I would endeavour to
obey her; nevertheless, I found so much to gape at
when I alighted from the coach, that I imagine I gave
but a bad specimen of my tractability in this particular.
The approach to the door of the hall was by a very
high and wide flight of steps, and the hall itself was an
immense room, having a staircase at each end; the
walls being set forth on all sides with paintings, all of
which had some reference to rural sports. Among
these was a specimen of that exquisitely elegant and
touching design so often exhibited in old collections, to
wit, that of a dead hare, hanging up by the heels, and a
number of pheasants and partridges lying, without life,
in the fore-ground. There, also, were the figures of
certain favourite dogs and horses, which had belonged
in times past to some of my ancestors; and an immense family picture, in which my grandmother herself, in her younger days, was represented in a laced
joseph and jockey-cap, leading a fox-hunt, accompanied
by all her male relations, each of them mounted on
some favourite horse, and cutting and spurring over hill
and dale, moss and moor, like the heroes of Chevy
Chase.  The chimney ornaments of this large apartment, for there was an immense fireplace at one end
of it, consisted of bucks' horns, foxes' heads, and old
fowling-pieces.  Such were the curiosities of this
apartment; but I was not allowed to examine them at
that time, but was led forward by Mrs. Bridget to a
large parlour at the farther end of this hall, where I was
introduced into the august presence of my grandmother.
The parlour itself was boarded and wainscoated with
oak, which was considerably imbrowned with age, and
embellished with a-iornice of the same, curiously and
richly carved, representing buds, flowers, and ears of
corn, whimsically grouped together in a kind of running pattern. The floor of this room was bright as
a looking-glass, and the windows, though large, were
casements in stone frames; the grate was highly polL3




250              JULIANA OAKLEY.
ished, and filled with boughs of yew-tree, although the
weather was sufficiently cold; for my grandmother
never allowed a fire to be lighted in any other part of
her house than the kitchen before a certain specified
day of the year, and until that period arrived, it was
dangerous for any one to complain of being chilly under
her roof, as the old lady was exceedingly tenacious of
her own ways and opinions, and never failed to take
such complaints, however delicately expressed, as censures of her management.
But to return to my story. At a small table, in the
centre of this large, cold, and comfortless room (for
such it appeared to me, as I was led into it by Mrs.
Bridget) sat my grandmother. She was richly dressed
in a laced headdress, a large hoop, a rich silk gown, and
long ruffles; having before her on the table a large gold
snuff-box, and a pair of spectacles; opposite to her, at
the same table, sat a thin, tall, starched figure, whom I
afterward found to be a poor cousin, who filled up the
complicated parts of companion, flatterer, and tea-maker
to my grandmother, being one who would bear any
thing, by which she might obtain the privilege of eating a good dinner every day, and now and then taking
an airing in a coach-and-four.
My grandmother appeared to be holding forth, with
no small vehemence, on some subject by which she
was strongly interested, at the moment when I entered;
but on my cousin calling out, " Oh, madam, here comes
pretty little miss," she ceased to speak, put on her spectacles, and, holding her hand out to me, encouraged me
to come up to her, saying, "And so, Bridget, you are
earlier than I expected. Come, my dear, give me a
kiss-you are welcome to Hartley Hall."
I had by this time conceived so high an opinion of my
grandmother, that I was considerably frightened when
she drew me to her to kiss me, and failed not to avail
myself of the first opportunity which offered itself of
making my retreat to the other side of the table, where
Mrs. Bridget was still standing, and waiting to answer
such questions as her lady might choose to put to her.
And now, my reader, you may picture us all, as we
were assembled around the table. My grandmother, in
the first place, seated in her arm-chair, dressed as I have
before described her, and retaining such spirit, and even
dignity of countenance, as proved that she had long




JULIANA OAKLEY.               251
been in a situation of command.  My cousin Cicely
sitting at her right-hand, being a tall, thin, elderly
maiden, dressed in my grandmother's cast clothes, and
plying her needle with much diligence, while she from
time to time stole a look at me, and then at my grandmother, uttering exclamations in confirmation of every
opinion expressed in her presence. In addition to these,
you may fancy Mrs. Bridget, who, in the presence of
my grandmother, was all obsequiousness, and in consequence fell much in my opinion.  And to finish the
group, picture to yourself my figure, richly dressed in
my new suit, which was standing on end with large
flowers, and from terror and amazement bringing into
one point of view almost every awkward trick I had
ever learned during the course of my life; at the same
time gazing on my grandmother, with eyes and mouth
extended to their utmost capability. \
Of the conversation which took plac. at this time-I
remember a little, but in a very confused and disjointed
state. Such, however, as I recollect, I shall deliver to
my reader, who is, I trust, not altogether uninterested
in my concerns; although I must acknowledge that I
have not yet appeared to him in the most attractive
point of view which it is possible to imagine: for I was
in fact, at that period, as disagreeable and as impertinent
a child as could well be imagined; being full of defects
myself, and at the same time possessing much of that
spirit of detraction so frequently met with in ordinary
minds.
Agreeably with this spirit, I had scarcely received the
salutations of my relations, before I began to make my
private observations upon their appearances, characters,
and conversation; ard first, I remarked that my grandmother had put her spectacles on, and was looking intently at me, at the same time that she addressed Mrs.
Bridget to this effect:-" Did I hear you right, child?
like my daughter did you say? No, no, it's the father's
face altogether."
" Miss is like her father, to be sure," said my cousin;
" exceedingly like him-the very picture of him."
" How can you go for to say any such thing, Miss
Cicely?" said Mrs. Bridget; " Miss Juliana is the very
counterpart of her mother, I would venture to assert it
in any company, and to any one's face. She only wants
a little education, and then it will be seen which of us




252               JULIANA OAKLEY.
is right. Why, look you, Miss Cicely, she has the very
fine black eye of the Hartleys."
"And," said my grandmother, with an expression
which I could not make out, "what a discoverer of
wonders you are, Bridget. And I suppose," she added,
" that you have also discerned in the child the same
long neck and falling shoulders for which I was remarked in my younger days."
" Madam is pleased to be merry," said Mrs. Bridget,
smiling, "I said nothing about the shoulders;" and at
the same time she tapped me on the neck, and gave me a
signal to pull up.
" Miss is, certainly, not very upright," said my cousin
Cicely, stitching away, and drawing herself into a more
erect form than usual. " But you will try to do better
to please grandmamma-won't you, miss!" addressing
me, and at the same time directing a side-glance of her
eye towards my grandmother.
I could have answered, that I did not know what I
should choose to do, not having yet made up my mind
whether I might think it worth my while to please my
grandmother or otherwise; but I thought it best to be
silent, being anxious to catch every word that fell from
the old lady's lips; who, after having looked some time
longer upon me, deliberately took off her spectacles, and
while she put them into their case, uttered a kind of
groan, exclaiming, at the same time, " I do not know
what is to be done-I doubt whether it will ever be
possible to make her fit to be seen."
" Oh! madam," said Mrs. Bridget, " did ever any one
hear the like! When we have had the dancing-master,
and the French master, and when I have altered the
trimming of her slip, and taught miss to do open work
and scalloping, she will be quite another thing; and you
will say so, I am sure, madam."
" Well, well," said my grandmother, taking a pinch of
snuff, " I hope your predictions will come true, Bridget,
and I have the more confidence that they will do so,
because I know that you have a tolerable taste and
judgment for one of your condition."
Mrs. Bridget received this compliment with a courtesy,
and left the room.
I remember no more of the conversation which then
took place, and probably should not have remembered so
much had it not affected me so nearly, and kept me in a




JULIANA OAKLEY.               253
state of such doubt and suspense about my appearance;
sometimes leading me to think that I was an absolute
monster; and again filling me with the idea, that, if I
chose, I might become a lady, like my grandmother.
All further discussions respecting me, at this time,
were, however, as I well recollect, interrupted by the
servants with the tea-equipage. Soon after which our
ears were saluted with a whoop and halloo, such as
persons commonly use when calling dogs, and in a few
minutes a great big figure, in a shooting-jacket and
jockey cap, entered the room, accompanied by five or
six dogs. This person was no other than my uncle
Barnaby, who, at the sight of me, fixed his hands on
his sides, and laughed till he made the whole room ring
again, calling me a little droll figure, a pug dog, and a
Dutch doll, and advising his mother to have my picture
taken at full length: however, when his fit of merriment
had somewhat subsided, he gave me a hearty kiss, and
said, " You and I shall be good friends by-and-by," and
began a kind of boisterous play with me, which was.
commonly renewed whenever we met, from that time
for some years to come.
Thus have I given my reader a considerably detailed
account of my first introduction into my grandmother's
family; and shall proceed to say that every thing I
afterward saw and heard was of a piece with this first
introduction. I was presently made to despise my
former modes of life and manners, and aspire to somethingmore genteel. Mere worldly motives were given to
me for exertion. I was taught to think myself a person
of great consequence, and to dread vulgarity and low life
above all things: but at the same time, entirely false
notions were given me of the nature of true gentility,
and I was led to confound poverty with coarseness,
humility with meanness, and simplicity with awkwaxdness. I had no criterion given me by which I might
distinguish true greatness from thatwhich is false, or
the fine polish of truly elegant manners from the false
glare of fashion.
There is a certain good taste and discernment of what
is really lovely, which true religion only can bestow;
but at that period of my life of which I speak, I had not
the least knowledge of religion, nor do I know that any
attempt was ever made, during my childhood, by any of
my own family, to commiunicate to me, ny opinion




254               JULIANA OAKLEY.
on this subject. No time, however, was lost, I well
recollect, after my arrival in England, in modelling my
exterior into something more tolerable than what it first
presented. I was placed in the hands of the best
dancing-master the neighbourhood would afford-was
taught to enter a room with a skimming courtesy, such
as was then in fashion-to manage my hoop with dexterity, when I stepped into a carriage-and to smile
without displaying every tooth in my head, as I had
been accustomed to do. I also learned to speak alittle
French, and to play on the harpsichord: also, to do
open work and net purses, with certain other accomplishments of the same description, which I acquired
from my friend Mrs. Bridget, who, while she taught me
the exercise of my needle, failed not to amuse me with
such discourses as at once fed my pride and exalted my
self-love.
CHAPTER II.
Goes to Boarding-school-Her Journey thither, in company with
her Grandmother-Description of her Governess.
THREE years had now elapsed since I had been brought
to England, and those who saw me on my first arrival
scarcely could recognise the little wild Irish girl
in the haughty miss into which she was then converted.
About this time my uncle Barnaby went to London,
why or wherefore I know not; but this I remember,
that he went with some reluctance, and staid a long
time; so long, indeed, that my grandmother, who never
trusted him long out of her sight, thought it expedient
to go up to town in search of him; and on this occasion,
as I was not thought old enough to be introduced into the
world, and as she had no one with whom she could
conveniently leave me at Hartley Hall, as I was known
to have a high spirit, she began to look about for a
school in the neighbourhood, in which she might place
me for a few months.
The old lady had some difficulty in making me submit
to this arrangement, for my heart beat for a journey to




JULIANA OAKLEY.             255
London; but my grandmother was tolerably peremptory
when she had once decided upon any point; and as I
happened to know this feature in her character, I was
compelled to acquiesce.
My grandmother, after having brought me to consent,
had some difficulty to decide upon a school suitable to
her purpose; but, after some deliberation, her choice
was fixed by the lady of the rector of the parish, who
mentioned a little seminary in a neighbouring village
where a niece of hers had been placed for two years,
and had done great honour to her-teacher, by a peacock
which she had worked in chenilles, and which was said
to be even more beautiful than the creature itself, in its
greatest perfection. This was enough, my grandmother
fixed on the school in question without further hesitation; and, the governess having been duly apprized of
our intentions, we set out one fine afternoon, in the
month of July, in my grandmother's coach-and-four, in
quest of this seminary.
A few months before these events had taken place, a
young lady from a boarding-school in the neighbouring
town had been spending the holydays at Hartley Hall,
and as she was my bed-fellow when there, I had been
amused, I will not say profited, during many a long
night, with details of her school frolics, of tricks played
to the masters, of tarts purloined, of governesses deceived and teachers insulted.
The hope of being enabled to have a part in exploits
like these had done more to reconcileme to the prospect
of going to school than all the arguments of my grand,
mother, and her auxiliaries, Mrs. Cicely and Mrs.
Bridget, brought together in one point of view.
Accordingly, when my grandmother and I got into the
coach, I was presently lost in the anticipation of these
frolics, and scarcely observed the direction in which we
were moving, till we had left the Hall considerably behind us, and were advanced upon a road which led
through the most intricate and solitary parts of the
park.
I remember that it had been an exceedingly hot day,
and therefore the deep shade of the trees was particularly
grateful to us. It was also amusing to see the deer
start and fly away at the unusual sound of wheels in
this solitude, and even the birds seemed to be disturbed,
as the coach brushed between the trees.




256              JULIANA OAKLEY,
" And where are we going, madam V" I said, as I addressed my grandmother; "there is no town, that I
know of, in this direction."
My grandmother then informed me, that the place we
were going to was retired, that I should have few companions, but that I should be perfectly safe, and might
be very happy till her return. This description of the
place of my destination did not by any means coincide
with the expectations which I had conceived, and in a
moment destroyed allthe plans of amusement which I had
formed. I in consequence became sullen, and remained
silent till the carriage emerged from the shadowy scenes
which I have described, and passing through a gate of
the park, which was seldom required to be opened, entered upon a common, skirted with many trees, towards
the west: from which arose, in the very face of the
setting sun, a slender white spire, which belonged to the
village church. Many cottages and other humble habitations were seen here and there, partially covered by the
trees. A number of sheep were feeding on this common, where the wild thyme and heather blossoms
afforded many a fragrant banquet for the bees.
As soon as we entered on this heath, we were aware
of the freshness and balmy sweetness of the evening
breeze; and any one but a person agitated as I then
was, with high and angry passions, would have been
touched and interested by the soothing tranquillity and
charming simplicity of this scene.
Although the common was more than a mile across,
we soon reached the entrance of the village, which I
have before described as being situated among trees;
and passing immediately under the church, and along a
kind of rural street, we presently came to a stop before
a small house, which, for its neatness, simplicity, and
the romantic beauty of its situation,was seldom equalled,
and perhaps never excelled. The house itself was old
and irregularly built, presenting to the front two gable
ends, with a porch between; the roof was high and
slanting, being covered with thatch, and having several
windows projecting from the thatch. The building
was incrusted with a kind of rough-cast, washed white,
and it seemed as if nature had been peculiarly fanciful
in the formation of the grounds around this dwelling,
forming, in a small compass, such a variety of hill and
dale as is rarely to be met with in a space of many




JULIANA OAKLEY.               257
miles. Neither was there wanting, to complete this fairy
landscape, the utmost variety of fragrantflowers, whether
wild or cultivated by the hand of man; which, together
with the richest verdure, and the sparkling of a little
brook, that came tumbling down from the higher grounds,
formed altogether such a delicious retreat as monarchs
might envy. Near this house a milk-white cow was
feeding in a small field, and as soon as the carriage
stopped, our ears were saluted with the joyful exclamations of children at play. The notes were not loud or
harsh, but indicative of well-educated sprightliness and
chastened merriment. My grandmother was gratified,
and expressed her pleasure at this scene.
We alighted, and walked up the garden-walk to the
house-door; there, having knocked, the door was opened
to us by a neat female servant, and we were introduced
into the best parlour, or room kept for visiters, where,
while we waited the appearance of the mistress of the
house, I had the opportunity of making such comments
on all I saw as served to feed my pride and increase my
ill-humour.
The apartment was of a tolerable size, and had been
handsomely fitted up in its day; but its ornaments
were old-fashioned, and bore the marks of the ravages
of time; and though the utmost attention had evidently
been paid to neatness through every part of it, yet there
were certain circumstances relative to its furniture, and
even its walls, which proved to me that its inhabitants
were such as found it necessary to be attentive to economy. The old-fashioned hangings had been repaired,
and eked out in several places; the furniture of the
chairs was of patchwork, and several pieces of needlework, which hung upon the wall, wanted those frames
of gilt-work, and that glazing, which I thought they deserved. Being occupied in discerning these blemishes,
I had no eye for a wilderness of sweets and beauties
which was spread before the open window, till my attention was called to it by my grandmother, who hinted
that I could not be otherwise than happy in a situation
abounding with so many delicious circumstances.
Before the pert reply which hung upon my lips had
time to form itself into words, the door of the room
opened, and the mistress of the house, whom I shall
henceforward call my governess, entered the room, and
paid her compliments to us, with such an air of Christian




258             JULIANA OAKLEY.
humility, unfeigned charity, and undesigning simplicity,
as for a moment awed me into something like respect.
She was a little woman, considerably advanced in
years, and habited as a widow. She had in her younger
days been handsome, as was very evident from the regularity of her features, and the remaining delicacy of her
complexion; but that which was most remarkable in
her appearance was the expression of that grace which
enables us to bear afflictions and calamities with constancy and calmness of mind, and with a ready and
cheerful submission to the will of God. Even to one
blinded by pride as I was, these characteristics were
sufficiently legible, and seemed to demand my esteem,
as it were, in spite of myself; and, probably, I should
have been more ready to bestow it, had I not perceived,
in the dress of this excellent and amiable person, certain little circumstances which marked a degree of frugality, which I, as the pupil of the elegant and accomplished Mrs. Bridget, had learned to look upon with the
most sovereign contempt. What these circumstances
were I now forget, but, probably, some symptoms of
repairs in her well-saved gown.
CHAPTER III.
Her Grandmother's departure-She is introduced to Anna and her
companions-Their conversation with the Governess.
I REMEMBER little of what passed between my grandmother and my new governess, and can only recollect
that when my grandmother arose, I followed her to the
door, and burst into tears. My grandmother failed not
to chide me for what she considered as a symptom of
a want of submission to her will, and, hastening to her
carriage, left me with my governess, who, addressing me
kindly, entreated that I would be comforted, and in
order, probably, to divert my thoughts, asked me if I
would accompany her into the garden, whither she was
going to call her children.
So saying, she offered her hand, that hand which, as
I afterward found, was so continually employed in soft



JULIANA OAKLEY.              259
ening the bed of sickness, and conveying relief to the
distressed; but I pretended not to observe the motion,
and drawing back with affected humility, to permit her
to go first, followed her through a back-door of the
small hall or vestibule, into a garden, where I presently
seemed lost in a kind of flowery labyrinth. Through
this, however, I soon made my way, being led by my
governess, who at length brought me out on a green
terrace, terminated by an alcove, in which several children were busily engaged in play; a little table stood
before them in the centre of the alcove, on which lay
several dolls, which I rather wondered at, as three of
the young people appeared to be nearly my own age.
This little party consisted of six, and I could, at this
moment, give my reader not only each of their names,
but the exact description of all their persons. I shall,
however, content myself with the minute description
of one only, who, being the eldest of the party, and the
niece of my governess, seemed to exert a gentle authority over the rest.
The name of this little girl was Anna, and at the time
I knew her, she was thirteen years of age, though, from
her appearance, she might have passed for much
younger; while the constant prudence and equanimity
of her deportment would have done credit to one a great
deal older.
The appearance of youth, which I mentioned, proceeded from her extraordinary delicacy of complexion,
the mildness of her eyes, and the thousand dimples
which played around her coral lips, together with a
simplicity as charming as it is uncommon.
At the moment when we were first seen approaching
the bower, she was forming a wreath of eglantine, and
fastening it on the hat of the youngest of the little group,
a pretty child of about five years old, whose name was
Ermina, and whom I afterward found to be an orphan;
while the others were all calling upon her to take some
office in their gambols, which could not be agreeable
without their beloved Anna.
At sight of us, however, the sports immediately
ceased; but not the gay expression of the happy party,
who, after having paid their compliments to me, with
that kind of politeness which proceeds from real goodwill, gathered round their governess, and silently, yet
eagerly, strove to obtain one of those hands which I,




260               JULIANA OAKLEY.
but now, had so insolently rejected. The old lady
looked round upon her little people with a kind of
maternal tenderness, and reminding them that it was
getting late, moved in the midst of them towards the
house.
When arrived there, we were taken into the schoolroom, the simple furniture of which again afforded matter for my comments. Here the cloth was laid on the
oak table, and a little supper set out, which I afterward
found had been done in compliment to me, as a new
comer, as no meal at this hour ever afterward appeared.
This plain and homely repast, excellent as it was of
its kind, consisting of strawberries and cream, and small
white loaves, brought with it no satisfaction to me, because I was resolved not to be pleased; but I found that
this unexpected treat was a matter of high delight to the
blooming and smiling young creatures with whom I
was now associated. On this occasion the gentle Anna
displayed all her dimples, and the little Ermina, who
was commonly called Minny by those who loved her,
absolutely broke out into such an intemperance of mirth
that her governess was compelled to look somewhat
seriously upon her; but this cloud being past away,
sunshine was presently restored to every countenance,
for I speak not of my own. And now I witnessed that
which I had never before seen, namely, that innocent
play of spirits and of wit which can only proceed from
those who feel their minds at peace with respect to
their most important concerns. It is written, " For as
the crackling of thorns under the pot, so is the laughter
of fools." Eccles. vi. 6. And again, " Even in laughter
the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness." Prov. xiv. 13. But, "The Lord will bless his
people with peace." Psalm xxix. 11. And it was, indeed, such a peaceful, such a tranquil state of enjoyment, which I now witnessed, as I never before had
formed a conception of; and now could by no means
understand. I remember, however (for my memory is
particularly tenacious of the events of these days),
many remarks that were made while this little assembly were regaling themselves with the simple fare
which was spread before them. And first, our governess observed, that " she could not conceive any delicacy whatever, which labour or money could procure,
more exquisite than the present feast which was spread




JULIANA OAKLEY.               261
before them, and hence," said she, " we may infer the
goodness of the Almighty, who prepares such dainties
for humble and simple persons, as the tables of kings
could not excel."
She then remarked, that " fruit was the food of sinless
man in Paradise," and proceeded to point it out as the
Scripture emblem of all manner of spiritual good things..
She then proceeded to speak of Eden, and the manner
of man's life in that ancient seat of glory, hinting that
"there were many assurances in Scripture of the restoration of that same blessed order of things, which prevailed before the fall, in the last days of the world."
Her young people, I observed, answered her as if
well acquainted with the subjects she was speaking of;
and expressed a wish that they might be enabled to conform to that simplicity of habits and behaviour which
their Saviour loved.
" And here," said Anna, on whom my eyes had been
almost constantly fixed, ever since I had sat down at
table, being, as it were, fascinated by the extraordinary
simplicity and beauty of her expression, "if it were
possible to form a Paradise in this present state of
things, we have every thing here which might be needful: trees, and flowers, and brooks, and breezy lawns,
and shadowy bowers, and leisure to receive instruction,
without any worldly people to come in and destroy our
peace."
" My dear child," replied her aunt, " that retreat must
be deep indeed into which sin and the world do not
enter. Remember, that the seat of sin is in the heart,
and whoever knows his own heart must be assured that
a very great change must pass in that heart before he
is fit to become an inhabitant of Eden."
"Oh! my aunt," replied Anna, while such a lovely
blush rose in her cheeks as I had never before seen,
and a tear trembled in her gentle eye, " I was far from
presuming to say, that although this place is like a Paradise to me, we are, any of us, fit to live in Eden. I
know that we are all desperately wicked by nature, and
that' there is none good, no, not one.'"
Had not pride sealed my lips, I should have spoken
on hearing this remark; but as I believed it was more
for my dignity to remain perfectly silent, I failed not so
to do, contenting myself with fixing my eyes, with an
unmoved gaze, upon my young school-fellow.  Shq,




262              JULIANA OAKLEY.
however, either did not, or would not, notice my rudeness; but looked attentively at her aunt, who thus addressed her:-" I believe you, my dear; I am sure you
have too much humility to question your own natural
depravity, or that of any of your fellow-creatures. You
have not so read your Bible, I trust, my child: and this
being premised, I cordially agree with you in what you
have further said respecting this place, and our little
society here. If there is a set of persons on earth who
are happy in each other, and surrounded by blessings, it
is ourselves; and though we have the sin of our nature
still to contend with, and shall have until death, nevertheless, we have often such sweet experience of the
tender love of our God and our Saviour, that we find as
much of Eden in this our humble retreat as was ever
found on earth since the fall of man."
CHAPTER IV.
She retires to rest, for the first time, at School-The apartment-Its
furniture and Ornaments-Overhears the morning hymn of her
School-fellows-The course of Instruction pursued in this Boarding-school.
THE conversation then took a less serious turn. Little Minny made some remark which made all the little
ones laugh; and my governess told us some curious
anecdotes of her childhood, exhibiting before us curious
pictures of the manners of those times, contrasting
them with those of the present day.
When the hour of separation arrived, our governess
knelt down in the midst of us, and prayed; after which
I was led up-stairs into a small room, vhere I was made
to understand that I was to sleep alone; an arrangement
which did not please me, for I had seen a young lady at
supper who was called by her school-fellows Olivia,
whom 1 had fixed upon as my bed-fellow, having conceived some hope that she was a character which might
be worked upon, and which might be won over to my own
ways of thinking. There was however, as I thought, no
use in expostulating; I therefore wished my governess,
who had attended me to my room, a good night, with no




JULIANA OAKLEY.               263
small ceremony; and when she was gone, turned round
to contemplate every circumstance about my little apartment.
The bed was small, and hung with blue and white
check; the walls were covered with common blue paper.
An old-fashioned glass stood on a toilet, at one end of
the room, and two old upright rush-bottomed chairs
stood on each side of the bed. On the antiquated
mantel-piece stood two lambs of wood or wire, clothed in
cotton wool, and having eyes made of black beads; and
above, upon the wall, was a small red and white oil
painting, representing two little children, which, like the
babes in the wood, stood hand in hand, the one being
the similitude of a little boy, as I judged by his robings,
and a small whip which he held in the hand which was
unoccupied, and the other, undoubtedly, a little girl, as
her cap was adorned with a bunch of roses.
Although the painting was but an ordinary one, there
was not wanting, in the expression of these little ones,
in their delicate features, their coral lips, and soft blue
eyes, a certain something which would have induced the
spectator to believe that they might once have been some
tender mother's pride, and would have induced him to
ask, whose are these little ones? where are they now 3
what has been their fate. has any mother mourned their
early deaths? But no tender inquiries of this kind suggested themselves to my mind. On the contrary, I
turned away disgusted from all I saw, and throwing
myself on a chair, burst into a flood of tears, proceeding
from pride, passion, and selfishness. However, when I
had bewailed my fancied afflictions for a sufficient length
of time, I bethought myself of going to bed, where I soon
fell into a much more profound, refreshing sleep than
a person in my afflicted case could be expected to enjoy.
It was morning when I awoke, and the red beams of
the early sun rested on the walls of my room. I got up
in haste, and opened my window; the air was balmy and
fragrant, and the dew still glistened on the grass and
flowers, on the bank opposite my window, for the ground
of the garden arose with considerable precipitancy from
the house to the higher parts of the garden. There,
while I stood for a moment, I suddenly heard a chorus
of soft and melodious voices rising up towards my open
window, as from the room below, and could distinctly
make out the following verses:



264               JULIANA OAKLEY.
"To thee, our Father and our God,
Our joyful songs we'll raise;
Be all our pleasure and delight,
To celebrate thy praise.
To worship and to serve thee, Lord,
Give us no work but this;
Employments such as angels love,
We ask no other bliss."
I can give you little idea of what my feelings were
on hearing this strain, but I recollect that I stood at the
window till it ceased, and then lifting up my eyes towards a grove of oak-trees, which was situated at the
top of the hill, beyond the bounds of the garden, and
presented beneath its branches many shadowy and inviting recesses, I began to compare in my own mind
those pleasures of religion and retirement spoken of
the day before by my governess, with those of scenes
of pomp and worldly pleasure which I had often heard
my grandmother describe. At length, recollecting myself, I hastened to dress, and to make my appearance at
the breakfast-table, where the little family were by this
time assembled. After breakfast my governess appointed
me a place in the school-room, and every one presently engaged in her usual employment.  Education
at that period was, in some respects, not so well understood as it now is; in others, perhaps, much better 
fewer accomplishments were then taught,-the French
language even was little studied, and not taught at all
by our governess, but she took great pains to teach her
pupils to read and write their own language with propriety. She understood history and geography well,was an excellent Bible scholar, and few persons had
such skill with their needle. She accordingly arranged
her day in such a way as to give proper attention to each
of these branches of instruction.-The mornings were
always devoted by her to making us learn our lessons
and write; at one we dined, after which we took some
exercise for an hour, and then assembled again till five
o'clock, which period was devoted to our needles, while
one of the party, by turns, read the Bible aloud, or sometimes one or other of those few little volumes which
were at that time prepared for children.




JULIANA OAKLEY.              265
CHAPTER V.
Dissatisfied during her first evening at School-Olivia inquires the
cause-Their conversation; and the Story of the little Chuckoor.
THE first evening which I spent at the school turned
out, as it happened, very rainy; accordingly, having
spent our time till five o'clock in the way I have mentioned, we then drank tea, after which we were allowed
to play, and the dolls were produced, at the sight of
which my pride again took alarm; and though Anna
explained to me that it was partly in accommodation
to the taste of the little ones that the elder children submitted to this kind of amusement, yet I could by no
means bring my mind to a participation in these puerile
entertainments, and in consequence sat down in the
window-seat determined not to make myself agreeable.
In the mean time the dolls were dressed, and I observed that Anna (who but now had pleaded her desire
to please the little ones as a kind of apology for playing
with dolls) was to the full as deeply engaged in the
amusement as Minny herself: and now, if it will not
be deemed out of place, I must pause to make this remark, which has often occurred to me, though I cannot
recollect having heard it made by any other person, viz.
That uneducated and unsubdued children are as unfit for
play as for work; and that the same qualities are requisite to make a child agreeable in the play-room, as successful in the school-room. The generality of children
are aptly described by almost the very words of our
Saviour (Matt. xi. 16, 17), " We may pipe unto them and
they will not dance, we may mourn unto them and they
will not weep."
Perhaps some persons may feel themselves inclined
to doubt the accuracy of this remark, and for this reason: that it is commonly supposed that there are in all
societies of children certain popular characters which
are more agreeable to their companions than to their
masters. I answer,-that there are characters who
have a natural influence over their fellow-creatures,
and that such will always have a party, and a number
of adherents in every society; but let these characters
VOL. V.-M




266              JULIANA OAKLEY.
be closely examined, and it will be found that they form
no exception to my proposition, viz. "That the same
qualities which make a child agreeable and successful
in the school-room are equally necessary to make him
acceptable upon the play-ground."
But to return to my former self, whom I left sulking
on the window-seat. I had remained for some time
utterly neglected by the happy party, when Olivia, of
whom I before spoke, during a pause of the play, sidled
up to me, and, after some hesitation, addressed me
with a request to join in the amusement.-I answered,
in a low voice, "that I was too unhappy to play."
" Unhappy, miss!" replied the other, " I am sorry for
it; what has made you unhappy?" and at the same
time she took a place on a corner of the same windowseat on which I had enthroned myself in all the dignity
of my fancied importance.
As the rest of the party were now again engaged in
high festivity, having made houses with benches in the
two farther corners of the room, and divided themselves
into families, I had full leisure to answer Olivia's question, and I failed not to make the best of it, by representing my case in a very doleful point of view.
I first described my happiness at home, the splendour
of my grandmother's establishment, the habits to which
I had been accustomed, the silver mug out of which I
drank, and the superb teacup from which I daily sipped
my breakfast; and then I proceeded to draw the dreadful reverse of my situation, the comparatively small
room in which I sat, the closet in which I slept, the exchange of damask curtains for hangings of blue check,
together with sundry other afflictions of the same
nature, which I described as being altogether more than
I could bear.
In reply to this Olivia looked at me with an expression indeed of some compassion, for I was crying bitterly, but with more wonder, and at length she said,
" But we are very happy here. Every thing is quite'
clean; and what signify those things you talk ofV"
"What signify those things, miss!" I said: "why
nothing at all to those people who know nothing better."
"Oh! but," said Olivia, "I do know better things,
for our tea-room at home, miss,:is hung with pea-green
cut velvet paper; and our best bed-room is of red
damask."
I have a look of contempt, as much as to say, Who




JULIANA OAKLEY.               267
cares for your tea-room  and your best bed-chamberwhat are you compared with me  For I had learned
that she was the daughter of an attorney in a neighbouring town. However, as I felt the need of some person
to fill up the place of Mrs. Bridget in my confidence, I
thought it best to answer her with some politeness, and
accordingly replied, that "pea-green was as pretty a
colour as could well be imagined for a tea-room," and
expressed my astonishment that she, who had been
used to so handsome an apartment, should be perfectly
happy in such a house as that in which she then resided.
"Oh! but," said Olivia, "we do not sit in the tearoom every day, only when there is company; and I am
always glad to get out of it, for I am so afraid of soiling
the carpet, or some other such mischief."
Our conversation then took another turn, and I told
her how many suits I had-how they were trimmedwhat jewels my grandmother had in her jewel-box, and
how many headdresses of lace she bought during the
year, with other matters of equal moment, by which
vanities I so far worked upon the mind of my little
companion, that when she was at length called to join
the play, she answered fretfully that " she was tired,
and did not love dolls."
Thus had the poison begun to work, and the worldly
discourse which I had introduced in this seat of peace
had already begun to produce its never-failing effect,
namely, the exchange of cheerfulness for gloom, and
peace for discontent, in the mind of that person who
had been exposed to the temptation.
It was getting dusk, and the hour of retirement was
near at hand, when our governess appeared at the door.
At the sight of her, all the younger part of the company
ran up to her, and leading her to a chair, begged her to
sit down and tell them a story. She smiled, but suffered herself to be prevailed upon: and taking little
Minny on her lap, told us the following story, every
word of which I remember as well as if I heard it but
yesterday.
THE LITTLE CHUCKOOR.
"The chuckoor was a handsome brown bird, about
the size of a small fowl; he was hatched in a hollow
tree, among some of those ranges of hills at the back of
MS




268               JULIANA OAKLEY.
the English settlements in the East Indies. When he
was a young bird he was taken by one of the hill-men,
and shut up in a cage of wicker-work, which was without a door, and in this plight was made a present of to
the wife of a certain chief, who lived in a little fort
among the hills.
"It came to pass, after a while, that this chief went
out with his men and plundered the English, who had
possessions of lands not far from them. Whereupon,
the English attacked them  and took their fort from
them. Immediately after this fort was taken, a certain
English gentleman, belonging to the army, went into
the fort, and while he was looking about him, he heard
a noise under his feet like the clucking of a hen, and he
looked to that side from whence the noise came, and
there was the poor chuckoor in his cage, nearly covered
over with dead men and fragments of the demolished
walls of the fort. Had not this gentleman seen this poor
bird, he would probably have been there till he had died
of hunger.
"Then the gentleman pitied the poor bird, and took
up the cage and brought the little creature to his tent,
and set bread and water before it; but the Hindoos,
who knew the nature of this bird, said that he did not
want water in the cold season of the year, and that
some kind of grain would be more acceptable to him
than bread: so the gentleman kept the chuckoor in his
tent, till he had an opportunity of sending it to his children, who were with their mother at an English station
at some distance from the hills.
"Now  I leave you to imagine how pleased these
little children were, when they saw the little prisoner
which had been taken in the fort: they begged their
mamma to buy a new cage for it, and covered it over
with a green baize cloth every night, because this little
creature could not bear the sharp and fresh air of the
night in the cold season. They also appointed a servant to take care of him.
" This servant, who was a black man, was very fond
of the little chuckoor, and he took out his cage every
day and set it in the sun; and sometimes he allowed
the bird to go out of its cage, and amuse itself with
going about in his sight; but this was not till the little
creature knew his master, and would obey his call.
" And now I must tell you a wonderful quality of this




JULIANA OAKLEY.               269
bird; he would take bits of burning wood and sparks
of fire in his mouth without being hurt; hence he was
called the fire-eater, and it was a great amusement to
the children to see this little bird eat fire.
" So the little chuckoor led a very happy life with
these children, though he met with two great alarms,
the one was from a cat, and the other from a rat, who
came near his cage one night, but both his enemies
were driven away immediately, and it was quite affecting to hear how the little creature afterward tried to
talk, and express his fears to his servant, and the rest
of the family.
"At length the time came when the good gentleman
and his family must go to Europe, and for this purpose
they must needs go on board ship, and experience many
hardships, and suffer much from cold; and on this occasion they began to feel anxious about their little bird,
because they could not take him with them, on account
of the cold, for this little bird could not bear cold.
" The good gentleman and his family had been living
up the country, many miles distant from the sea, and,
in order to prosecute their journey, it became necessary
for them to go down to Calcutta, which is near the sea.
They made the first part of their journey in boats, upon
the river Ganges, and when they arrived in Calcutta,
and began to prepare to go on board ship, they became
more anxious about their bird, and were entirely at a
loss what to do for him.
" Now, while things were in this state, the gentleman
went out one day to visit an acquaintance, and when he
was introduced into his parlour, he found that one side
of it opened into a large aviary formed of wire-work,
and, behold, in this aviary were all manner of tame
and beautiful birds; and while he looked into this
aviary, the person who was employed to take care of
them came in at an opposite door, and having swept the
floor of the aviary, he set forth the daily food and drink
of its inhabitants in twelve shallow pans. In these
pans were plantains and brown sugar, boiled rice and
dry rice, and all kinds of grain, besides clear water. In
short, every thing which the most fastidious bird could
desire, and all these arranged with the neatness and
order which one might expect at a royal table.
" And now, my dear children," continued our governess, " I think it will not be needful to tell you, that the




270              JULIANA OAKLEY.
good gentleman, on seeing this, thought of his little
chuckoor, and begged that this, his feathered favourite,
might be admitted into this happy society of birds.
Thus, after his many adventures and many difficulties,
the little chuckoor found rest at last, and the good gentleman's children, to this very day, tell the history of
the hill captive, and of the happy termination of his
sufferings."
CHAPTER VI.
The Story of the little Chuckoor explained-Juliana acquires religious knowledge, but still cherishes the idea of her own superiority
-The cause of her intimacy with Olivia discovered by Anna.
" BUT, my dear governess," said little Minny, " is this
story true, quite true?"
"Yes," replied the old lady, "very, very true, for I
knew the gentleman who found the bird, and all his
dear children. But, my young people, before we dismiss this story, shall we not try to draw some profitable
moral from it. Who is this chuckoor story like, and
what lesson of wisdom does it contain V"
"I know, my dear aunt," said Anna, rising hastily,
and drawing near to the old lady, " it is like mine-like
your poor niece's, my dear aunt. I was left destitute
and helpless when a very little baby —without a father,
without a mother, and surrounded with the ruins of our
domestic happiness, and you became my dear honoured
mother-you took me into your bosom-you guarded
and protected me from those who would have injured
me-you supported me during my tender infancy, and
now, in this sweet retirement, I am daily enjoying
every temporal comfort, and every spiritual advantage
which can be partaken on earth. The little chuckoor is
not capable of thanking his Maker for all that he has
done for him; but I, with the Divine help, will thank him
-I will praise him-I will bless him, and that for ever,
for all his unspeakable mercies."  So saying, she laid
her sweet face upon the bosom of her aunt, and burst
into tears; while the good lady, half chidingly, half
caressingly, replied, " Oh! my Anna, what have I done




JULIANA OAKLEY.               271
for you.'vhich is not daily repaid to me a thousand-fold,
by your tender love and sweet affection."
Thus closed our evening. And as I have now given
my reader a view of one twenty-four hours in my
new situation, I now content myself with saying, that
as this first day passed, so passed many more days, and
in fact some weeks, with little variety, excepting that
whenever the evenings were fine, we walked out and
explored many exquisite scenes, of which I should
despair to give an adequate description; for, after all,
when even the finest writer has assembled every beautiful object which our rocks and hills, our forests and
our brawling brooks, and transparent lakes, can possibly
afford, together with every charm of fragrant flower,
breezy lawn, azure sky, &c., it must depend on the imagination of the reader to group them with taste, and
represent them to himself with accuracy. But enough
of this, and too much, perhaps, considering that it is for
very young persons I am now writing, and that these,
commonly, consider all matters impertinent, in a narrative of this kind, which do not immediately promote
the progress of the story.
These walks of which I speak had generally some
act of charity for their end and object; and not unseldom when these little works of love were accomplished, and some poor creature relieved by a present
of a garment, or a cordial, or some other small matter,
would we sit down under the shade of some spreading tree,
or on the side of a hill, or near some brook, or bank of
flowers,-and there, while the little ones played around
her, our governess would take occasion to tell her elder
children some profitable story, or pleasant anecdote, for
which she not unseldom took the hint from some natural
object within her view, elucidating many parts of Scripture from these, and teaching us, as it were, to read in
the book of nature, and compare visible with invisible,
and natural with spiritual things.
It was on certain occasions of this kind that I formed
my first ideas of some of the most important doctrines
of our blessed religion, namely, the doctrine of man's
depravity-of his utter helplessness-of the nature of
the Holy Trinity, that is, as far as man can be said to
comprehend it-of the love of the Father-the work of
redemption finished by the Son-and the various operations of the Holy Spirit. It is very true that I was




272              JULIANA OAKLEY.
not led at these times to admit the love of Christ into
my heart, although my head was furnished with much
knowledge; neither did the world lose any of its hold
upon me; and though sometimes almost surprised out
of my cold insolence by the sweetness and gentleness
of my instructress and companions, the world, nevertheless, retained its full power; and while I remained
at school I never lost sight of my first object, which
was, if possible, to make those about me feel their own
littleness and my superiority.
In this view I was, however, strangely baffled for a
length of time, by the uncommon simplicity, and what
I called ignorance, of those about me. With the exception of Olivia, no one seemed to be in the least
aware of my importance, and yet I could not complain
of the slightest want of respect; in vain did I talk of
my grandmother's coach-and-four, and produced one
piece of finery after another; my school-fellows seemed
to want that faculty by which things of this kind could
be appreciated, and if they were polite to me, they were
equally so to the curate's wife, who now and then came
to drink tea with our governess. Thus I had the mortification to see that I had no influence over any one in
the house but Olivia, who, after a while, withdrew herself almost entirely from Anna and the rest of the little
party, and associated herself on every convenient occasion with me.
I have given my reader a specimen of the manner in
which our conversation began, but I would not deceive
him so far as to lead him to suppose that, in the course
of its progress, it continued to touch upon topics equally
harmless with the description of the pea-green hangings.
Olivia, after a few weeks, used to come into my room
at night, in order to help me to undress, as I had pathetically stated my difficulties in being without a waiting-maid: and on these occasions it would be much
more easy to point out what we did not speak of, than
what we did. I, for instance, told the whole history,
as far as I knew, of my own family; and took off all
the singularities of my grandmother, my cousin Cicely,
and my uncle Barnaby, being at the same time very
careful to let my young companion see that we were
people of no small consequence, and that our very singularities showed our importance, And in return for




JULIANA OAKLEY.              273
these communications, my school-fellow told me all she
knew of our governess and school-fellows, and joining
with me in ridiculing the humble modes of life of the
former, and trying to fasten upon her the imputation
of meanness.
Thus I led on this little girl from one fault to another,
till the simplicity and cheerfulness at first remarkable
in her deportment entirely disappeared, and gloom and
sullenness succeeded. And oh! I would it were in my
power to suppose that Olivia was a solitary instance
of this kind of corruption, practised by one school-fellow upon another.
But to proceed with my story.. Upon reflection on
my governess's character, it appears to me, that lovely
and excellent as she was, she had neither the spirit to
contend with such a character as mine, nor, perhaps,
the discernment to penetrate its deep corruption. She
was without guile herself, and without suspicion of evil
in others; a woman of a gentle and tender disposition,
and one than whom no one could be more fit to manage
humble and well-disposed children, and to lead them
forward in the heavenly way.
Things had passed on in the manner I have described
for some weeks, and I believed that the change in Olivia
had not been observed, nor the nature of our conversations understood by any one; but it seems that I was
mistaken, as I shall presently make appear.
It was the first day in August, and it had been the
custom for some years in our little school to bestow
some annual prizes on the second of that month, which
was Anna's birth-day. Many pretty presents, consisting of embroidered pincushions and work-bags, were
ready for the occasion; and if the evening was fine, the
children were to have a treat in the alcove on the terrace, which on that occasion was always decorated by
them with wreaths and garlands of flowers.
On the eve of this day, at the hour of retirement,
Olivia came as usual into my room, and I thus addressed
her, using less caution, and speaking louder than I had
formerly done: " And so to-morrow is the great day,"
I said, " the day of days, and I suppose, Olivia, that you
mean to be as gay as Minny herself." Before Olivia
could reply, Anna came in behind her, and called her
school-fellow by name, as soon as I ceased to speak
M3




274              JULIANA OAKLEY.
We both started at the sound of her voice, and reddened
to our very eyes.
Anna came forward with a calm dignity, such as I
have never since seen in one of her age, and addressing
Olivia, she said, " I am come to say that it would be
better for you to withdraw to your own room; henceforward I will assist Miss Oakley, if help is needful for
her."
" And why must Olivia go to her room, Miss Anna I"
I asked.
" Because," said she calmly, "you are doing each
other the greatest mischief by your conversation, and
setting each other against your best friends."-" And
how do you know all this, miss." I said; "you have been
listening at the door." —"No," said Anna, "I never
listened in the way you hint at; but I have long seen
that Olivia is entirely changed,-she is no more the
pleasant and cheerful companion she once was-she is
not full of love and joy as she was in past days. I
could not account for this change, because I did not
suspect you, Miss Juliana; but what I heard this moment, as I was coming into the room on an errand from
my aunt, has opened my eyes, and led me to understand
the cause of the change in my Olivia." —" And what did
you hear V" said I, swelling with passion.
" An expression of contempt uttered by you, and un,
reproved by Olivia, that Olivia, too," continued the
sweet girl, " whom I once so tenderly loved. And what
was it, Olivia," she asked, " that you were speaking of
with contempt? Why of an effort about to be made by
your kind, your gentle governess, to make you happy.
Oh! pride, pride," she added, clasping herhands in a manner indescribably pathetic, " to what cruelties does this
passion lead us." Then bursting into tears, and sinking on a chair which stood near, " Olivia! Olivia!" she
said, " I thought you really loved and honoured my aunt
-you who are so well acquainted with her history-who
have heard the detail of all her sorrows-who have
seen her gentle tears flowing at the memory of her
husband and children dead,-those sweet children,"
added Anna, directing us, by a glance of her streaming
eyes to the painting before mentioned, over the chimneypiece, " who were once her treasures, her only earthly
comforts-you who have for months past had occasion
to witness her self-denial, her charity, her extraordinary




JULIANA OAKLEY.               275
liberality-you, who have experienced her indulgence so
long, and have professed so much filial affection for her.
Olivia, Olivia, I could not have believed this of you."
So saying, she was so entirely overcome by her feelings, as to sob aloud. Olivia looked at her with every
expression of guilt and shame, and uttered not a single
word; but I, who had less feeling and less modesty
than my fellow-offender, was able to speak, and asked,
with much pertness, " what it was we were suspected
of,
By this time she had, in a great measure, recovered
her composure. She had risen from her chair, and
again coming close to us, kissed Olivia, and approaching her sweet face to me, as if to invite me to the same
token of reconciliation, which I, however, thought right
not to notice; and then making a kind of apology for
the agitation which she had betrayed, she proceeded to
plead the interests of religion to us in a manner at once
so forcible and so simple, and to state, in a style so
emphatic and so striking, the loveliness of a peaceful,
modest, and grateful behaviour in young people such as
we then were, that Olivia appeared to be very much
overcome, and it was with, difficulty that I could restrain
my emotions.
"It is true, Miss Oakley," said she, "that you have
been accustomed to live in a very different way to what
we do; but, since it has been your grandmother's good
pleasure to place you here, it has become a duty in
you to submit as entirely to your governess's pleasure
as the youngest child in this house. Remember the
example of our Saviour, who, though God in human
flesh, submitted himself to the will of his mother, not
only till he was of our age, but until he was thirty years
old, working with his reputed father at his trade, and
submitting to the humble circumstances of his situation.
Remlember the sweet words of the hymn:"' What bless'd examples do we find
Writ in the word of truth,
Of children that began to mind
Religion in their youth.
"' Jesus, who reigns above the sky,
And keeps the world in awe,
Was once a child as young as I
And kept his father's law.




276               JULIANA OAKLEY.
"At twelve years old he talked with men,
The Jews all wondering stand;
Yet he obeyed his mother then,
And came at her command."'
When the sweet Anna (for lovely and precious she
is, indeed, in my recollection, little as I prized her at
that time) had finished these verses, she took Olivia by
the hand and led her out of the room, having wished
me a good night, in a manner very little varied from
her usual graciousness.
CHAPTER VII.
Olivia's stolen interview with Juliana, who would not accept the invitation of Anna-The distribution of the Prizes-Juliana's ungenerous conduct to her Governess, and the sudden arrival of Mrs.
Bridget.
I HAVE no recollection of what passed in my mind when
Anna left me; but I well remember that I slept till the
next morning, when I was awakened by the voices of my
school-fellows under my window, busily speculating
upon the weather, and deciding, from the very heavy
dew upon the grass, and the cloudless azure of the sky,
that it would be a charming day.  Soon after these
awakening calls, I got up, and going to my window,
saw the children, busy in their preparations in the
alcove, which, as I have said, was in the very highest
part of the garden.
" I hope," said I to myself, as I opened the window,
"that Olivia is not with them, but perhaps the poor
girl cannot help herself, she is overawed by her companions. Well, to-day I shall have an opportunity of
letting them see how little I care for them."
I stood, however, at the window, looking on what
was passing, till the bell rang to call us to prayers, at
the sound of which the young people all came running
in, every face being radiant with happiness, and with
that true kind of happiness too with which the duties
of religion appeared to form no kind of discordance.
There was more talking than usual at breakfast among




JULIANA OAKLEY.               277
the young people; each of whom had some little scheme
for rendering the day more delightful, to impart to her
governess: and even Olivia looked as if she could have
thoroughly enjoyed herself, had not I been present to
sustain, by my significant and stolen glances, that influence which I had so lately obtained.
After breakfast, the young ones again hastened to
their arbour, and my governess went into a little light
closet, which opened from the parlour, and where she
kept her stores, as it was supposed, to prepare some
little feast, and perhaps to wrap up the presents which
were prepared, and to direct them according to their
several designations. This breaking up of the breakfast party occasioned a little bustle, during which I got
to the side of Olivia, and whispered to her, " Watch
your opportunity, and come to me in my room, I have
something to say."  The little girl turned hastily to me,
and nodding her head as a sign of assent she ran out
into the garden with her schoolfellows, while I went up
to my room, and endeavoured to amuse myself with the
examination of my clothes.
I had passed some little time in this way, when I
heard my name repeated by some one standing under
my window; and looking out, I saw Anna standing, and
looking up.
Never shall I forget her figure, as it there presented
itself; she was dressed in the simplest manner imaginable, in a slip of dove-coloured stuff, with a muslin apron
and bib, the corner of her apron being tucked up to her
waist. She had taken off her cap, and round-eared
little flat straw hat, which were then in fashion, and her
fair hair, in consequence, fell in a thousand charming
ringlets over her face and neck, and on her head she
was balancing a basket full of roses, which the old man
who cultivated the garden had just bestowed on her, in
order" to adorn her bower.
As soon as she saw me at the window, she raised one
hand to support her basket, and courtesying low, with a
smile full of sweetness, "I am come," she said," an
unworthy messenger, indeed, from the Lady Ermina,
whom we have chosen to be our queen, to solicit the
honour of your company, Miss Oakley. Permit me,"
she added, " to lead you to our palace, where we promise you that which is not always to be met with in the




278              JULIANA OAKLEY.
bowers of queens, namely, a hearty welcome, and much
good faith."
It might seem to be almost impossible to reject such
an invitation, thus sweetly tendered; nevertheless, 1 did
reject it, for I had resolved not to be pleased with any
thing I saw or heard in this place, and coldly thanking
the person who had been sent to invite me, I sat down
to repair a necklace of garnets, which I had broken the
day before.
It was not till after we had met to dinner, and were
again dispersed, that Olivia found her way to my room.
She then came, apparently in a great hurry, and asked
me what I wanted.
I repeated her last words with some astonishment,
and asked her why she had not come before.
" I could not very well," she said; " I could not without being observed."
" I can scarcely believe that, Olivia," I said; " no, the
truth is this, you are amused with these child's plays,
and are anxious for some of those sixpenny gewgaws
which are to be given away this evening. And after all,
why should I wonder, when I consider that you have
seen nothing of the world yet i-nothing beyond your
own pea-green tea-room and this place."
On hearing this, Olivia reddened, as well she might,
at my rudeness, and I was instantly made aware that I
had said too much, and that I should entirely lose my
ally, if I did not alter my tone. I accordingly began
immediately to hint at an invitation which I intended
some time or other to give her to Hartley Hall, and at
certain little presents which I intended for her, when I
could go home and look after my things; and when by
this means I had got her into some good-humour, I said,
" I am sure, Olivia, when we are all met together this
evening, and the parson's children are come, and the
prizes are given-I am sure you won't think of playing."
She hesitated a little, on which I pressed the point,
and she had just given me a hesitating promise that she
would acquiesce in my wishes, when one of the other
children came to the door, and told her that "Miss
Anna inquired for her, and begged she would come immediately." She blushed on receiving this summons,
and ran away with such haste, that I half suspected
she was not quite so sincere in my cause as I had hoped.




JULIANA OAKLEY.               279
Now it may be asked what motive I- could possibly
have had for endeavouring to make a disturbance in this
little family! 1 answer that my motive was a mixture of pride and envy; and I fear that there are few
societies on earth which have not suffered, more or less,
from characters of this kind.
After Olivia had left me, I remained for some time
alone, busy with my garnets, till about four in the evening, when I was summoned to join the rest of the
family and a few visiters, who were come to see the
little festival, and the distribution of the prizes. When
arrived on the terrace, I found the company consisted
only of one or two of our nearest neighbours, and the
wife of the curate, and these were seated on chairs opposite the alcove, in which were placed two small tables,
the one covered with a little repast of fruit and sweetmeats, and the other with the prizes and presents which
were to be distributed. The children stood in a halfcircle round these tables, and being dressed in flowers,
as well as the alcove itself, they presented a very pleasing spectacle to the eye. As I had no reason to expect
any present, I made no attempt to join this smiling
group, but placed myself in a situation from whence I
could observe all that passed.
Sundry little ceremonies now took place, and the
governess took occasion to commend some of the little
girls for certain excellences, and to thank others for
certain proofs of affection, honour, good-manners, &c.
which they had given during the past year. By what
she said to Olivia, I perceived that Anna had not explained the scene of the past night to her aunt, and I
was obliged to confess that there was much, very much
of kindness in this forbearance, at the period, when she
would have brought her little friend to public disgrace
by a contrary conduct. Olivia blushed violently when
she heard the commendations of her governess, and
seemed as if it were absolutely out of her power to lift
her eyes from the ground.
Our governess having finished her addresses to her
pupils, the prizes were delivered. After which some
of the little ones left their places in the alcove, and
came forward to speak to their friends, and to examine
their little presents, every eye at the same time sparkling with pleasure, and every heart beating with rapture.
In the confusion which ensued in consequence of these
removals of the young party, I contrived to get near




280              JULIANA OAKLEY.
Olivia, and interrupting her in the midst of certain exclamations of delight, on account of a blue satin housewife which she had just received, " Olivia," I said, " I
am glad to see you so happy; but why do I wonder
that babes should be delighted with playthings V"
I forget what answer she made; but we conversed
for some minutes, during which I succeeded in making
her very uneasy. All her gayety left her, and she was
on the point of bursting into tears. While struggling
with these feelings, our governess and Anna had begun
to hand about the fruit and cakes; and the kind old lady
coming smiling up to us, held to us a little basket of all
sorts of cakes, at the same time calling us her dear children, and inviting us to partake of her treat.
There was in the countenance of this excellent woman, at that moment, an expression of mingled love and
joy-joy to see her children so happy, without the smallest idea that there could be one of the party less pleased
than she meant them to be. Thus she approached us,,
and offered her basket.-I was almost subdued by her
unsuspicious and gentle expression of countenance, but
Olivia was observing me, and I was at that moment
more ashamed of the incipient desire which I felt of
doing better, than I had before been of long and stubborn rebellion. In compliance, therefore, with this,
feeling of shame, I rejected the treat my governess
offered with considerable scorn,-on which the old lady
seemed hurt; and having again offered and been again
refused, she presented her basket to Olivia, who stood
half turned from her, and kindly inviting her to partake
of what she offered, but was again subjected to a refusal. Surprised at these rare circumstances, for it is
uncommon indeed for school-girls to refuse tarts and
cakes, a sudden light seemed to strike upon her mind,
-and she gave me such a penetrating look as I had never
before received from her; then stooping down, and
looking hard in the flushed and sullen falling face of
Olivia, a tear suddenly trembled in her eye; she attempted to speak, but her voice faltered, and she
looked round for her niece, as if she required her
assistance to explain this mystery.
Being drawn by her aunt's eye, Anna presently came
up to us, and was asked by her if she understood what
was the matter with us. " You see, Anna," she said,
" how dissatisfied they appear to be: I fear they are




JULIANA OAKLEY.               281
not well,-do speak to them, my dear Anna, and press
them to tell me if they are unwell, or indisposed?"
"They are perfectly well, my dear aunt," said Anna,
looking at us with more displeasure than I had ever
seen in her countenance before.
" Then entreat them, I beg you, my dear," said our
governess, " to tell us what grieves them, tell them that
it is my greatest pleasure to see my children happy;
and this evening," added the old lady, wiping away a
tear, "this evening I had hoped to enjoy that pleasure without alloy." So saying, she turned to us, and
offering a hand to each, for she had set down her
basket on the grass, she entreated us to lay aside our
sadness, adding, "if any thing has vexed you, my dear
children, try to forget it, and be cheerful."
I scarcely know how I should have acted on this occasion, had leisure been afforded me for an instant's
deliberation, but before one second had intervened, I
heard my governess's name, as well as my own, repeated loud from the house, and at the same moment,
saw my governess's maid-servant appear at the halldoor, accompanied by Mrs. Bridget: at sight of this
last, I deliberated not a moment, but ran down the
slope to meet her.
CHAPTER VIII.
Her Grandmother being taken ill sends for her to London-Her
Governess's parting kindness-Juliana receives intelligence of the
death of her parents-Goes to reside in Bath-Her Uncle's marriage; and her narrow escape from sudden death the means of producing a beneficial change to her character.
WITHOUT repeating all that passed between me and
Mrs. Bridget, I shall inform my reader of the events
which caused her sudden appearance in this place, at a
time when I was thinking of nothing less than of herself.
It appeared that my grandmother, who was still in
London, having had some uneasiness respecting my
Uncle Barnaby, had been seized, a few days before, with
a kind of paralytic attack, which threatened her life, and
which, at first, rendered her quite insensible. Her




282              JULIANA OAKLEY.
senses, however, returned, after some hours, and she became so exceedingly impatient to see me, of whom she
had lately become more fond than ever she had been of
my mother, that it was thought advisable to humour
her; and as travelling at that time was by no means so
convenient as in these days of mail-coaches and steampackets, it was thought expedient to send Mrs. Bridget
down with all speed, to bring me up to town. Mrs.
Bridget came charged with a letter from my cousin
Cicely, and which enclosed a handsome present to my
governess, and a request that I should be allowed to set
off at a moment's warning, my governess being desired
to send up my clothes after me to town. I had scarcely
gathered the principal parts of her errand from Mrs.
Bridget, when my governess joined us, and 1 have no
recollection, such was the hurry of that moment, of
what passed between my governess and my grandmother's maid. As soon, however, as I was made to understand that we were to depart, that very minute I ran
up stairs, threw my clothes together into my drawers,
put on my cloak and hat, and gave one look through
the window on the terrace, the alcove, and the happy
little party there; and strange to say, it was not without regret that I felt I was now going from them.
Who is there who, having parted, during the course
of life, from some dear friends, or interesting companions, does not possess such a power of abstraction from
present scenes, as sometimes to be able to close his
eyes, and represent to himself, as in a picture, those
objects and persons once so loved. On these occasions,
in what lively colours does fancy sometimes paint a
tender parent, now no more; a child cut off in the bloom
of youth; a husband, brother. wife, or sister; and how
naturally does it paint the scenes in which we have been
wont to see them. Thus, at this moment,-though so
many years have since passed-though so many events
have intervened, I can still close my eyes, and behold
this charming scene. The high bank enamelled with
flowers,-the solemn grove in the back-ground,-the
alcove decked with garlands of roses, and the lovely
Anna presenting her baskets of fruit to her guests and
her companions.
It was the shrill voice of Mrs. Bridget which called
me from the contemplation of this scene, and it was the
same notable body who hurried me from the presence




JULIANA OAKLEY.              283
of my governess, whose last look to her rebel pupil was
that of love, and whose last action, as it respected me,
was to place in my lap a paper containing some of those
very cakes which I had lately rejected with so much
insolence.
It is not my purport to fatigue my readers with a full
history of my life, which has been long, and much varied;
I shall therefore satisfy myself with passing hastily over
every event which is not immediately necessary to the
promotion of the object which I had in view when I
began these memoirs.
When I left my governess's house, I was put into a
post-chaise with Mrs. Bridget, and proceeded to town,
where I found my grandmother better, but still so much
indisposed that it was thought necessary for her to take
a journey to Bath, where she was induced to take a
house, the waters being thought necessary even to the
preservation of her life. There we remained some
years, and returned not at all during that time to Hartley Hall. In the mean time, I heard of the death of
both my parents by fevers abroad, but remembered too
little of them, and was too thoroughly selfish, to grieve
for them, as all children ought to do for the authors of
their being. During this period I had grown up, and
was become one of the gayest in that gay and dissipated
city. I spent all my mornings in visiting, and all my
evenings in public, leaving my cousin Cicely to attend
my infirm grandmother, who was indeed my only parent.
In the mean time my uncle Barnaby, who generally
resided at Hartley Hall, used frequently to come to see
us; and here, being persuaded by his mother, he selected
a wife, and was led by Providence, I doubt not, to make
a very good choice. The lady was not a young woman,
and possessed little or no fortune; but she was a remarkably pleasant companion, and, in some respects,
displayed more sense than commonly falls to the share
of our sex. As my grandmother was in a very feeble
state when this marriage took place, my aunt and uncle
resolved not to leave her, in consequence of which, we
became one family for several months.
At this period, there arrived a very celebrated preacher
in Bath; this gentleman preached for many weeks in
the abbey, through the favour of the rector, and there
the mind of my aunt was opened to divine subjects in
such a manner, as it never was before. She would




284              JULIANA OAKLEY.
willingly have engaged me to attend this preacher, and
indeed succeeded in one or two instances; but my mind
being filled with other matters, it was with little or no
effect that I heard the words of truth from this minister.
Thus I proceeded in my career of folly and sin, without interruption, for some time after my uncle's marriage; till one evening, being dressed for a ball, and
wearing a headdress of an immense height, such as were
then in fashion; while I waited for a chair, I sat down
to read a play which I intended to see the next day, and
bringing my head (by accident as I then thought) in contact with the candle, my lappets took fire, and before
the flames could be extinguished, one side of my face,
and the back of my neck, were cruelly burnt. I can give
you little idea of what I suffered from these burns; but
the anguish was such, and the consequent depression of
my spirits, that I almost could have wished to die,
had I not a dread of exchanging the pains of time for
those of eternity: for, Oh! who can dwell with everlasting burnings.
During my confinement with these wounds, I was
attended by my aunt in such a manner as ever afterward endeared her to me beyond measure. It was this
kind friend who daily dressed my burns; and it was this
dear friend who availed herself of this suitable moment
to lead me to my Saviour, to call my attention to my
own natural depravity, and to other important truths inculcated by our blessed religion; and so successfully did
she labour with me, or rather, so greatly were her labours
blessed with regard to me, that I arose from my bed
with new feelings; and though there remained but small
marks of my wounds, I experienced no desire to return
to the world, or to enter again into my former pursuits;
my views of things were wholly changed, and I now
began to see my former character in an entirely new
and different view. Neither can it be doubted, but that
I now recollected, with sorrow, my former ill behaviour
to my governess and my little school-fellows, and my
many impertinences to my grandmother.




JULIANA OAKLEY.               285
CHAPTER IX.
The death of her Grandmother, and Juliana's return to reside at
Hartley Hall-Her desire to revisit her amiable Governess, and to
apologize for her misconduct-Her Aunt accompanies her to the
School-Juliana's deep compunction upon learning the decease of
her Governess.
I HAD not left my room many months after the accident 1 have recounted above, before I lost my grandmother. I rejoice to say, that through the instrumentality of my aunt, the poor lady's mind was considerably
opened on the subject of religion. By her last will she
provided handsomely for me; neither were Bridget nor
my cousin Cicely forgotten. We left them behind us
in Bath, where they had determined to live together,
and I returned with my aunt and uncle to Hartley Hally
where we had resolved to reside in future, having given
up the house in Bath. The first few days after our arrival in the country were, as you may suppose, fully occupied in settling ourselves in our habitation; but before
one week had elapsed, we had so far arranged things
within the house as to have leisure to look abroad, and
it being the early part of summer, I accompanied my
aunt one afternoon in an airing in the park. Our coachman having accidentally driven us into that part of the
park through which we had formerly passed with my
grandmother to the school, it was natural for me to
recur to those days and scenes and persons I had witnessed and seen at that time, and I petitioned my aunt to
gratify my impatience to see my dear old governess
again, by ordering the coachman to proceed to the
school.
My aunt, who was always willing to oblige me, instantly gave orders such as I desired, and we proceeded
rapidly to the remote gate of the park before mentioned,
and in a short time found ourselves upon the same breezy
common formerly described.
During this our progress, I was busied in describing
to my aunt my governess, her house, her garden, her
lovely niece, her simple habits, and the pious tendency




286              JULIANA OAKLEY.
of her whole life and conversation. Neither was I by
any means backward in speaking of my own very improper conduct, or in expressing my anxiety for an opportunity of making every apology. As I proceeded
with my narrative, I recollect that I became considerably animated-my heart seemed to warm towards my
old companions-I called each by their name, and began
to conjecture in what manner they would be changed,
and to ask myself," Whether my governess would be
much altered by age, or Anna much improved, through
the lapse of time V"
My aunt asked me," How many years had passed
since I had left this spot 1" to which I answered, " It
will be four, when the time of year shall be come round
again."
" Ah! my dear," she replied with a sigh, " and during
this interval,maythere not have occurred manychanges,
which you do not now calculate upon."
This remark seemed to sink cold upon my heart;
however, I made no reply: but, as we were now drawing
near the village, I employed myself in tracing our old
rambles among the neighbouring fields, and in such
directions over the country as my eye could reach from
the window of the coach.
At length we entered the village, and I called to the
coachman to drive on to a white house at the very extremity of it. " My dear," said my aunt, " shall we not
stop and inquire V" but as I did not second her motion,
the coachman drove onwards, and presently we found
ourselves in that part of the road directly opposite the
gate of the school-garden.
And now, every well-known object was again before
me; the thatched roof, the gable ends,the little porch, the
casement window, the white rough-cast coat on the wall,
the high bank of the garden, partly visible over the roof
of the house, and the grove of oak-trees formerly mentioned, on the summit of the hill. I saw also, the waterfall, pouring down its mossy channel, and the little
meadow, in which our quiet cow was accustomed to
feed. Here also were the lilies, the laburnums, and
the rose-trees, which used to be so highly cherished by
our governess, and a low garden-seat, under the shade
of a spreading chestnut, on which I had often seen her
sit to read, while her family were amusing themselves
in another part of the little domain.




JULIANA OAKLEYi               287
But, although every natural and artificial object answered thus accurately to the impression left on my
memory, there was shed around, and on every object, a
certain air of solitude and neglect, which could not
have escaped the eye of the most inaccurate observer.
The garden-walks were overgrown with grass, End the
flower-beds with weeds; the window-shutters of both
the parlour-windows, and some of the bed-chambers,
were closed: and instead of the jocund sound of happy
infant voices, such as had saluted us when I first visited
that place with my grandmother, we heard only the
cawings of certain ravens, which had built their nests
in the tops of the oak-trees above-mentioned, and the
bleating of some sheep in a field on the other side of
the road.
While I looked with dismay on this scene, I felt that
sudden sinking of the spirits, which every person must
feel when any bright and joyous feelings, which they
may have experienced, meet with a sudden check.
My aunt had directed one of the servants to go up to
the door of the house, and knock. He accordingly
obeyed, and I waited with much anxiety the answer.
It was some time, however, before the door was opened,
by a feeble old woman, who in answer to my inquiries;
(for by this time I had alighted with my aunt, and entered the garden), informed me, that the lady I inquired
after had been dead some time!
" Dead," I repeated, while the tears gushed into my
eyes, " and shall I never see her more-never be able
to tell her how much I now love her, and how glad I
should be to repair the injuries I have done her V"
" My love," said my aunt, taking my hand and drawing me into the little vestibule, in order to screen me
from the observation of the servants, " the good old lady
is happy, we cannot doubt it. Why, then, should you
grieve as one without hope V"
" And where," I said, "where is the lovely Annawhere is little Minna-where is Olivia?" and, as I mentioned each name, I burst into fresh agonies of tears.
" Ah! miss," said the old woman, whom I then recollected as being one who had formerly resided in the
village, " ah! miss, I know not-I cannot answer you.
It was, indeed a sad day when the dear old lady died,
and all those sweet children were scattered abroad as
lambs without a shepherd. Miss Anna grew up to be a




288              JULIANA OAKLEY.
bright example of piety in early youth. She was, indeed, as one of the polished corners of the temple; but
when her aunt died she was left a second time without
a home,'a waif upon the world's wide wilderness.'
And the poor little miss, the least of all, where was she
to find a home, at least such a home, and such a mother,
as she had lost t"
I wept with increased violence as the old woman proceeded. I could not help it, and the recollection of my
former pride and hardness of heart struck like a dagger
to my breast.
My aunt came near to me; she pressed my head
against her gentle bosom, and pleaded every argument
for comfort which our blessed religion can supply. She
represented to me, that such a woman as my former
governess, that is, one who had so long and so entirely
relied upon her Saviour, as she appeared to have done,
could not but have changed for the better, in leaving
this world; for although " when a wicked man dieth,
his expectation shall perish,"-nevertheless " the righteous is delivered out of trouble." Prov. xi. 7, 8. " And
who, my dear niece," proceeded my aunt, " are those
who are counted righteous in the sight of God, but those
humble, and meek, and unpresuming characters, such as
you have described the dear lady in question to have
been, who, having through the divine mercy, been led
to cast away all self-righteousness, desire only to be
clothed in the righteousness of their Saviour, and in
this garment to be presented unto him without spot or
blemish?"
" I have no doubt of the happiness of my dear governess," I replied;  I could, indeed, have wished to have
seen her once again, and to have confessed my faults
and offences to her, and to have begged her pardon and
blessing: but oh! my dear aunt, I cannot bear to think
of the deserted and afflicted state of the lovely Annathat sweet young creature, whom I once so wickedly
insulted, though I never could truly despise one in whom
I saw so many excellences."
" Make yourself easy, my dear," said my kind aunt,
"we will seek her out, and if she is in distress, we will
help her,-she shall not be left destitute-she shall not
want a friend-Hartley Hall shall be her home." This
kindness of my aunt seemed at that moment perfectly




JULIANA OAKLEY.               289
to overcome me, and I dropped my face on her bosom,
as she sat by me.
In the mean time, the old woman gave us an account
of the death of my governess, which she represented as
having been very sudden. " Ah! madam," she added,
addressing my aunt, " unless you had seen it, I could
give you no notion of the very happy way in which the
old lady lived with her little people. Every morning in
summer, and every afternoon when the windows were
open, I used to hear the sweet sounds of these children's
voices lifted up to heaven in songs of praise; and then
they were so kind to the poor, so smiling, so gentle, so
polite, so fond of each other, and of their governess.
Ah! ladies, it was a sore day when this little family
was broken up, and their tender mother and faithful
friend laid low in the dust. And now, miss," she said,
"now I never more hear those songs of praise issuing
from the windows, and no sweet infant faces are ready
to smile upon me as I enter these garden gates."
" Oh! my aunt, my aunt," I said, " I could bear all
this, if it were not for the recollection of my ill-behaviour and ingratitude when residing under this roof."
I then rose up with the intention of revisiting our
school-room, my little bed-room, the terrace, and the
alcove, but my heart failed me: and being wholly overcome with painful reflections, I returned to the coach,
whither I was soon followed by my aunt, who waited
only to give the old woman a present before she followed me. From that period I made it my business to
seek out my school-fellows, but never could meet with
any but Olivia, who has become a very amiable young
woman, and was not sorry to improve her acquaintance
with me, especially when she found the change, which,
through the divine blessing, had taken place in my feelings. Olivia oftenvisitedmeat HartleyHall, andweoften
talked of the days which were past; but although we
took the utmost pains to trace out Anna and little Minny,
we never could discover what had become of them: it
seems that they had left the country, immediately after
the death of my governess, but whither they went, or
what became of them, we never could make out. Thus
with respect to these young people, we were left without other comfort than that which we were able to derive from Scripture, wherein, in many passages, the Almighty promises his protection to the orphans and faVo4. V.-N




290              JULIANA OAKLEY.
therless, and especially to those who are of the seed of
the righteous: " The poor committeth himself unto thee
for thou art the helper of the fatherless" (Psalm x. 14.);
",I have been young and now am old, yet have I not
seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread."
Psalm xxxvii. 25.
Olivia was much with me during my youth; she
often was our visiter for weeks at Hartley Hall, and I
have, in return, spent many happy hours in the peagreen tea-room at her father's house. She was a particularly pleasant companion, both to me and to my aunt,
because she possessed a larger share of Christian humility and simplicity than any young person I ever met
with, always excepting the beloved Anna. These qualities I always attributed, under the divine blessing, to the
instruction she had received at school, and to her early
intercourse with Anna, the charming young creature
above-mentioned. Olivia was accordingly my frequent
companion in youth, and our friendship continued after
we were both married, and became mothers: neither
was there any interruption of our friendly intercourse
till death deprived me of this my cherished friend.
It is some years since I lost my Olivia, but as I was her
frequent companion during her gradual progress from
youth to age, I have not that clear remembrance of her
in her sweet girlish days, as I have of the lovely Anna,
whose sweet figure and charming countenance is almost
now present with me, as she stood under my window,
blooming and sparkling with innocent delight, and
crowned with her basket of roses. Nor can I, even to
this moment, call this lovely creature to remembrance,
without shedding tears of regret for the pain I gave her,
and for my ingratitude to her beloved aunt.
And now, my gentle reader, having accomplished the
task I proposed to myself, and set before you such passages of my life as were necessary to my purpose, I
proceed to point out the end which I had in view in setting myself this task: namely, that I might afford a
warning to young people:-that from the knowledge of
what I have suffered at times through life, from the recollection of my proud and ungrateful conduct towards
the friends of my youth, they may learn to avoid
offences of the same nature towards their parents and
instructers: for, let them be assured, that these faults,
which now may appear so light to them, will, at some fu.
ture time, arise like serpents, and sting them to the heart.




E RMI N A;
OR, THg
SECOND PART
OF
JULIANA OAKLEY.








P R E FA C E.
IF any of my present readers should happen to have
read the history of JULIANA OAKLEY, they will undoubtedly have some recollection of the lovely ANNA
and the little MINNY; and though the younger was
greatly inferior to the elder, yet I trust that what has
lately come to my knowledge respecting these young
persons may not be wholly without interest to those
who are already in some degree acquainted with them.
The sequel of their history was conveyed to me in a
course of letters, written by Ermina herself, at that
period of life in which she was enabled, through grace,
to meditate with some advantage on her past experience;
and as her account of herself contains some particulars
and notices of a mode of life little understood in Europe,
I no longer hesitate to give it to the little community
of young readers who have hitherto accepted, with so
much apparent satisfaction, many of my humble endeavours to amuse them.
N2








ERMINA;
OR, THE
SECOND PART OF JULIANA OAKLEY.
CHAPTER I.
Ermina's account of herself.
THE history of my former companion, Miss Juliana
Oakley, having been lately put into my hands, and there
seeing my own name, and that of my lovely and beloved
Anna, I have been induced to look back upon my own
life, and have at length resolved to send you, my friends
in England, some recollections of my former days)
which I trust may not be wholly without interest.
I remember little of my life before I came to reside
with my governess, or rather, I should say my second
mother; she found me a little friendless orphan, and
brought me to her own house, where I was never made
to feel my orphan state. My parents had resided in
Cornwall, where my governess had been paying a visit
at the time of their deaths, and I never knew of any other
relation than an uncle, who being a wild youth, ran from
his father's house, went to sea, and was not heard of
for many years; I shall say nothing of the happy days
I spent with my governess, that period which was
blessed to me through life, and will be so, through all
eternity, for it was in that blessed abode of peace I
acquired my first and most correct ideas of religion, and
though the impressions seemed to wear away for a time,
yet they were never entirely erased. After the death
of my dear governess, I was left wholly destitute, and
should have been without a home, had not an old aunt
of my dear Anna's and a sister of my governess taken
pity upon me; this good woman had come from Cornwall on hearing of her sister's illness) and had only




296                   ERMINA.
arrived in time to close her eyes. Immediately after
the funeral she returned with her niece Anna and myself to Falmouth, where she resided, and we made our
journey in three days on the outside of a heavy coach.
I endured much fatigue on the road, and when we
arrived at Falmouth, late one dark evening, at the end
of autumn, young as I was, I felt myself shocked, not
only by the dirtiness of the streets, but still more by the
appearance of the house into which she conducted us.
It was a kind of little low shop furnished in the roughest
manner, and contained the wearing apparel of sailors,
by making which Mrs. Finchley, for such was the
name of my new protectress, obtained a scanty living;
behind the shop was a small dark kitchen, and John
Finchley, the master, was busy at his counter, serving
two rough faced sailors, as we entered the door, carrying our own baggage.
I had been used to humble, but not to sordid life, and
being wholly overcome with fatigue I burst into tears
the moment I was set down in the kitchen.
Anna on this occasion looked sorrowfully at me, but
she did not speak, and Mrs. Finchley's daughter, who
was, as I afterward found, the wife of a sailor, then absent
on a voyage, endeavoured to comfort me, saying, that I
should soon be used to them all, and that then I should
be as happy as I had been before the death of her
aunt.
I thought that this was impossible, however I tried
to hide my tears, and after having been refreshed with
tea, I was shown to my bed-room, where I was rejoiced
to find that Anna was to be my companion. Our
chamber was up two pair of dark and narrow stairs; it
was very small; the floor and ceiling were uneven; it
contained only half of a window, the other half being
cut off to give light to the next room; this window was
a small sash, and as there was no curtain, admitted the
light of a candle from an upper room in the opposite
house; in one corner of the room stood the bed, the
curtains of which being of tarnished green stuff, were
nailed to a lath, fastened on the ceiling; a cracked
looking glass, a chest of walnut drawers, a deal table,
and two broken chairs completed the furniture of this
wretched apartment: where, instead of being regaled
with the taste of the fresh breezes among the trees, the




ERMINA.                 297
song of the nightingale, the hoot of owls, or the murmur of waterfalls, together with the breath of many
flowers, we were stunned with the oaths and songs of
drunken sailors from the court below, where was a
public house, and almost suffocated with the fumes of
tobacco.
When Anna and I found ourselves shut up in this
place, we looked at each other for a few minutes in
silent despair: at length Anna began to shed tears, and
I threw myself upon her bosom and wept with her till I
could weep no longer, and being quite worn out and
sick was compelled to undress and go to bed, where I
presently found some relief in sleep.
The light of morning was so much obscured by the
dinginess of the glass in the window, and the smoke and
fog of the town, that we were not aware that the sun
had risen till it was late; at length Mrs. Finchley
entered our room and kindly assisted us to dress, then
leading me by the hand down the stairs, she brought us
into the kitchen, where our breakfast waited; there she
sat down by us, and while she used her needle with
much diligence, she thus addressed us. " My dear Anna
and Minny, I am sorry I have no better home to offer
you, I am sensible that this must appear a shocking place
to you after your former delightful residence; but such
as it is, I am thankful for it, many better persons than I
am would be glad of such a resting-place as this; and
thank God I live in hopes of a better home, even an
eternal one.
" Finchley and I have gone through many sorrows,
and endured many losses. It was thought when I was
married, that my husband was a thriving man, and we
possessed a hadsome shop and good business in an airy
part ofthe town; we then looked forward to finishing
our days in ease and affluence, but Providence ordained
otherwise; we suffered many losses, and were at length
reduced to live as we now do. Of six children who
were born to us we have one only now living, four died
in infancy and are now in glory, and our son, our hopeful
and beloved, perished in the Eastern Seas as much as
three years past; we were in the dark concerning his
fate for many months, but at length were assured thereof
by a comrade who saw him tumble overboard; it was
a severe blow to lose our child in such a way, but it
was a kind one," added the poor mother, " it has been
N3




298                  ERMINA.
blessed to us, it has driven us to seek comfort where we
never sought it before, and we have been brought to say
that which no man can say without divine help, Thy
will, 0 God, be done!" In this part of her discourse Mrs,
Finchley wiped her eyes, and then turning cheerfully
to Anna, she added, "And now my dear niece, having
told you my story, 1 must be plain with you on other
matters: I shall never ask you, my child, to go into the
shop, you are too young for such services in this place;
but you will not refuse to help me with your-needle, and
in such household duties as cal be performed in private,
and I am sure this little miss will assist you, for the
truth is," and she burst into tears. " I cannot, however
willing, keep you my girls, unless you can help to keep
yourselves."
I forget what answer we made, indeed I believe we
made no answer whatever, but we both ran into her arms
and all wept together, and from that moment we felt
ashamed of ever expressing our uneasiness at our situation, even by a look; but what is more strange, after a
time we became wonderfully reconciled to our situation,
and though we remembered our happy home, from which
we were now for ever parted, with a degree of sadness
which we never overcame, yet we were blessed with a
peace of mind while at Falmouth for which I could
never acount; our feelings nevertheless partook of a
degree of sadness at times, and our spirits were always
in a state of something like depression; we enjoyed no
pleasures, we were almost wholly confined in the dark
kitchen above-mentioned, and we spent our time in
making shirts for sale and committing hymns and portions of Scripture to memory; we seldom tasted the
fresh air, and yet I have often looked back on that time
as one of the most blessed of my life. I have often
asked myself how I could possibly have been contented
at that period, and have often inquired whence that
peace proceeded which I then enjoyed. The answer
which I have often given to this question was this, that
at the period I speak of, I had in the first place been
thoroughly humbled, for young as I was I had been
made sensible of the desolate situation to which I must
have been reduced had not Mrs. Finchley taken pity on
me, and in the second place, my only companion, for I
seldom met the rest of the family, excepting at meals,
was my lovely Anna, whose sweet and pious discourse




ERMINA.                     299
was ever tending to lift me above this world, and to give
me interesting and glorious views of the next. Sometimes indeed we indulged ourselves in speaking of former days, in calling to mind our birth-day gambols, our
garlands of roses, our violet-banks, and primrose-beds,
the sweet stories our governess used to read to us in
the long winter evenings, and the still more interesting
tales which she was wont to recount when we gathered
round her in the dusk, and I, as the youngest, was
permitted to sit upon her knee; but we did not often
permit this sort of discourse to ourselves, because these
indulgences always ended in tears, and unfitted us for
our duties; therefore Anna would not unseldom interrupt
me when I desired to introduce these subjects, saying,
"Let us look forward and not backward my dear Minny,
being assured, as we are, that that which has gone before
is not to be compared with those glories which are to
come, when we may all hope to meet in the presence of
our beloved Saviour, and when we may hope to be as He
is, without sin and no longer subject to affliction."
CHAPTER II.
Character and conduct of Mrs. Finchley-Her delicacy and benevolence in the midst of poverty-Anna's distress during the walk on
the sea-shore-Mr. and Mrs. Finchley discover the cause-Their
generous resolution, followed by the arrival of two Strangers.
I SPENT nearly two years at Falmouth in the manner
above described, during which time I rarely enjoyed the
fresh air, excepting sometimes on a pleasant evening,
when Mrs. Finchley used to take us to walk on the sands;
for, with a delicacy rarely met with in persons of her
station, she seldom permitted us to go out alone; it was
certain that our health suffered from the close confinement, but our morals would probably have suffered more,
had we been left at entire liberty, because in towns on
the coast and where seafaring persons resort, there is
often much to be seen greatly injurious to the minds of
the unexperienced. Mrs. Finchley often lamented that
she could not turn us out to play in the green fields, but,
as she used to say, she had only a choice of evils for




300                   ERMINA.
us, and she endeavoured to choose that which was the
least.
I have often, on reflection, admired the character of
this poor woman, though not a loud professor, or one
who talked vainly of religion, yet I believe that her
every action was influenced by religious principles, her
whole life was one continued act of self-denial; she
never seemed to think of herself, or provide for her
own comforts; she had much to endure from a certain
irritability in the temper of her husband, and much to
suffer from real poverty, yet she was always calm and
resigned, and when the subject of her afflictions was
particularly pressed upon her, she invariably expressed
herself as being thankful for the comforts she possessed,
and as being happy in the prospect of a future intimate
union with that dear Saviour whose presence she then
felt, and whose secret consolations enabled her even
then to go on rejoicing, under circumstances which most
persons would have thought truly miserable. I have
little doubt that there are many characters which resemble that of Mrs. Finchley among the lower ranks
of Christians in England, and yet these perhaps are not
the persons most highly esteemed and best known in
the professing world; but the Almighty knows his own,
and the time will come when the secrets of all hearts
will be made manifest.  Oh may we all in that dread
hour be found to have received renewed hearts, and to
have been made one with Him, of whom it was justly
said, He has done no violence, neither was deceit found
in his mouth.
We remained nearly two years with Mrs. Finchley,
and one circumstance which took place about that time
I never can forget. I had grown rapidly during this
period, and my little wardrobe was wholly exhausted;
on this occasion poor Mrs. Finchley produced a gown
of her own, and cut, and tucked, and new arranged it till
she had fitted it for my wearing. She had but little
stock no doubt, for she dressed very shabbily, but she
could not bear to see the friendless orphan in a ragged
state, and I can well recollect the pleasure with which
she tied this frock upon me on a Sunday morning, and
turned me round to see how well I looked.
Why should the recollection of this circumstance
bring tears to my eyes even at this remote period. but
there is something so inexpressibly affecting in works




ERMINA.                 301
of real love and pure charity; something so divine in
the nature of unostentatious benevolence, that that heart
must be hard indeed which can contemplate it without
some tender feelings.
At length the time of our residence at Falmouth was
drawing to a close, though we were not aware of it.
During the former part of our continuance there,
Mrs. Wilmot, the daughter of Mrs. Finchley, had not
heard of her husband, who had sailed a little before my
dear governess's death, as a common sailor in an EastIndiaman, bound for the China Seas, and we could not
have expected him back in less than two years.
From the circumstance, however, of his absence, and
the increase of the family, owingto our havingbecome inmates of it, there was evidently a considerable shortness
of money, and though Mrs. Finchley, her husband, her
daughter, and Anna, all worked hard, it was evident that it
was often with difficulty that common necessaries were
obtained; from Mrs. Finchley, however, I never heard a
murmur, and though poor John sometimes looked blank
when counting up his gains at the end of the week, he
never seemed for a moment to grudge the food which
fell to my share, and for which I could then make no renuneration.
Such was the state of things, when one fine evening
in autumn, Mrs. Finchley proposed that we should walk
out on the sands, before the night-service, for we often
attended a church at six o'clock, which was situated
very conveniently for our house.
It was a dry, fresh afternoon, and though the sun was
low, yet it cast a fearful glow over the town, the bay,
and the sands, which extended themselves before us.
When clear of the suburbs, Mr. and Mrs. Finchley
walked a little before us with their daughter, and I followed with Anna. We went on for some time without
speaking, and as I rather wondered at Anna's silence,
for she was generally cheerful on occasions of this kind,
and looking up to her face, I saw that she was particularly pale, and had tears in her eyes.
"Dear Anna," I said, "what is the matter "-" Oh
Minny," she replied, " I am unhappy; look at my beloved aunt, see how shabby and patched her clothes are,
and her bonnet, how brown it is, and her shawl, how old;
and my uncle also, look at his clothes-his Sunday
clothes too:-Oh Minny, dear Minny, I fear that they




302                  ERMINA.
are very poor, and that we are a heavy burthen to
them, and I cannot bear the thought," and her tears,
which had at first only fallen drop by drop, now ran like
torrents from her eyes.
I was quite old enough (for I was then near eleven)
to sympathize in her feelings; we both wept bitterly,
and I do not know that I ever felt more unhappy.
At length, however, we tried to compose ourselves,
and I was much comforted by a quotation from Scripture, which my beloved Anna brought forward, viz.
"Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt thou dwell in
the land, and verily thou shalt be fed." Psalm xxxvii. 3.
While thus engaged with our own exchange of ideas,
our elders, who were considerably before us, suddenly
came to a stand; and Mr. Finchley, who had lived too
long near the sea to be wholly unacquainted with maritime affairs, called to us to come up in haste, to see a
large ship, which was sailing with a favourable gale up
the channel. " Depend upon it, Martha," said he to his
daughter, "that vessel is an East Indiaman," and he
mentioned some indications by which he knew it; he
also added, soon afterward, that he could plainly distinguish a boat coming from the vessel towards the bay.
This was an interesting sight to Mrs. Wilmot, and we
stood and watched the boat till the sun was set, and we
could distinguish it no longer; we then returned home,
and sat down to tea, where I was no sooner in my usual
place than Mrs. Finchley discovered the traces of tears
on my cheeks, and the excellent woman asked me in
sudden alarm, what could be the matter. I was then in
ahumble, and consequently a sweet state, and on her
putting the question to me, I ran into her arms, and
sobbed and wept upon her bosom.
She was alarmed, and begged me to explain the cause
of my distress: I then told her all that had passed between me and Anna during our walk, on which Anna
began to weep, and John Finchley, extending his big
broad hand to Anna, at the same time drawing me to
his heart, said, " Dear girls, dear children-wipe away
your tears, fear not for yourselves, you shall never want
a home, we will stand and fall, live and die together, so
God have mercy upon us."
" Oh! we don't think of ourselves, indeed, indeed we
don't," we both replied, "we think only of you, our




ERMXNA.                  303
dear father and mother, we are only sorry we can't help
you."
I can hardly say what followed, but surely this exercise of tender feelings converted our dark and miserable
kitchen into the gates of heaven. We had scarcely recovered any thing like composure before we heard a
loud knocking, which was repeated again and again, till
the whole house shook.
We looked one at another with amazement; Mrs.
Wilmot turned pale, Mrs. Finchley set down the teapot,
and Mr. Finchley stood up, and did not stir; the knocking continued, and then followed loud whoops and cries
like that of a sailor calling to his companions.
" It's some wild chaps in a drunken frolic," said Mr.
Finchley; " Is the door barred 1" and he rushed out into
the shop to ascertain the point, followed by us all.
"Are you all dead and buried," exclaimed a voice
from without, " but I see the blink of a candle too."
" What voice is that," said John Finchley, " I don't
know it."
Violent thunderings at the door again followed, after
which came another cheer, and then these words,
"Father-mother -Martha-are you all dead and
buried " —" What voice is that," said the mother, and
looked the image of death.
Fresh thunderings at the door next followed, which,
however, ceased the moment Mr. Finchley, with trembling hands, endeavoured to undo the fastenings, which
he had hardly effected, when two young men, followed
by an elder one, burst into the shop, and were saluted
by a loud shriek on the part of the mother, who fell
senseless the next moment in the arms of one of them.




304                  ERMINA.
CHAPTER III.
The Strangers' account of themselves, and the kind providence of
their arrival to all the parties explained.
WHAT followed after this violent shriek I hardly know,
for all seened to be confusion to me-one and another
were embracing each other, neither could I understand
whether the tears which I saw were tokens of joy or
sorrow, for I had never witnessed a scene like this;the venerable father groaned-the daughter sobbedand the mother remained long insensible, and at length
when she opened her eyes, she shrieked again and sunk
on the breast of the young man who had first flown to
her. After a while, however, she spoke, and looking
up in his face, " My William," she said, " can it be! Oh
no, no; it cannot, my old eyes deceive me, and yet it
is my William, my long lost William; my child whom
I have mourned as dead so long; God be praised," she
added, " but (clasping her hands and looking upwards),
but he knows my gratitude; words cannot express it,"
and she became so agitated, so hysterical, that they
were obliged to carry her into the inner room, where
she was with difficulty kept from another fainting fit,
by the application of water to her temples, and open
windows, and every thing else which could be devised.
In the mean time the whole party were becoming
more composed, and I was enabled to make out that
the two young men whose arrival had so affected the
family, were no other than William Finchley, whom we
had all supposed to have perished some years since, and
James Wilmot, the husband of Martha; but there was
a third person, and this person was dressed as a gentleman, was a middle aged man, and looked as if he was
no uninterested spectator of the present scene. He
had taken Mr. Finchley's great chair in the kitchen, and
there had sat taking now and then a pinch of snuff quite
at. his ease, till at length seeing Mrs. Wilmot so much
recovered from her agitation as to be able to give some
attention to ordinary things, he took two gold pieces
from his pocket, and showing them to her, requested




ERMINA.                  305
her to go to the next inn and order as good a supper for
eight persons as that money would fetch; " and let it be
brought here," he said, " for we will have one meal together, at least, before we part; and mind," he added)
"that we have no salt meat, or ship provisions, but
good Europe beef-steaks and fresh potatoes; let us
have some porter too, and English cheese; none of
your Dutch pine-apple, but good double Gloucester, if
any is to be had."
I heard all this, and saw Mrs. Wilmot go out with her
husband, and could not help wondering who this good
gentleman might be, who called about him so decidedly
and yet so good-humouredly; but I soon forgot him, for
my attention was again drawn to William Finchley, who
being seated by his mother, and holding her hand, was
telling her how he had been saved from the waves after
he had fallen from the ship's side, by a small country
craft belonging to Madras, adding many other circumstances to his story, of great interest to his parents, and
to all who heard it.
William's narrative was not, however, half finished~
when it was interrupted by the reappearance of Wilmot
and his wife, followed by two Waiters, bearing trays, and
then what a bustle were we all in, in removing the teacups, setting out a large table which had long stood disregarded under the kitchen shelves, and putting all
things in order for the supper; while the old gentleman
above-mentioned gave his directions and called about
him in such a manner, that it was no longer even in
Mrs. Finchley's power not to notice him.
" Sir," said she, " I beg your pardon, I hope, however,
that you will excuse me, but I did not observe-"' Ay, ay," said the gentleman, "I thought as much,
you actually did not see me; I thought how it was, very
well, very well; 1 am half-offended, however, and yet
you ought to be very thankful to me, for had it not been
for me you would not have seen your sons for some
weeks to come, I can tell you that, and they must be
off with me in a day or two for London, but they will
not be long away."
" Bless you, sir," said Mrs. Finchley, "bless you, my
dear good sir,-"
" Oh, I am a dear good sir, now," replied the old gentleman, smiling; "but mind this, my good woman, you
never saw me till you began to smell the beef-steaks,




306                  ERMINA.
and here they are smoking hot," and the old gentleman
instantly set himself down to the table, and insisting
that we should all place ourselves round him, begged
that we would cut away and enjoy ourselves.
The gentleman had fallen on his hot steaks, without
giving thanks, nevertheless, John Finchley would not
be bribed, even by the smoking supper, to follow his example; but rising up, and calling on his family so to do;
" My children," he said, " if we now fail to give thanks
for this our happy and unhoped-for reunion around our
table, we are undoubtedly without excuse, for never,
Oh, my God, never I trust, may we cease to be grateful
for the happiness of this blessed evening." Having
thus spoken, we were all directed to sit down again, and
notwithstanding our late violent agitation, we did credit
to our repast, which was such a one indeed as few of
us had tasted for some years.
The stranger, in the mean time, seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly, and when he had somewhat satisfied
his appetite, " Mrs. Finchley," he said, " are not you
anxious to know who I may be, who am dropped among
you without invitation 1 for I am sure you never so
much as once asked me to walk in, or even to stay when
I was in; well, but I won't be offended this time, though
if you are not civiller the next time I come I shan't
trouble you again."
" Sir, my good sir," said Mrs. Finchley, " I am sure
I meant no manner of offence, but I was so overcome,
and am so still, that I hardly now know what I am
a-doing."
" Very excusable, very excusable," replied the gentleman, "such things as sons coming back after they
have been dead three years, do not often happen, and so
I believe I must pass over your want of politeness for
this once, because I know you to be a good woman;
but now for my name, if you won't ask it, to be sure I
must tell you it, as well as my business, without being
asked.
"My name, Mrs. Finchley, is Townley;" we all
started, for that was my surname; "I had an only
brother, and excellent parents," continued the old gentleman, "we lived near this place, and were a happy
family, at least might have been so, but I was a rebellious son; I desired to go to sea, and my father did not
wish it, in consequence I ran away, and got on ship



ERMINA.                  307
board: no matter what I suffered there, not half what I
deserved; however, I went through many adventures,
and was in the China Seas for several years; at length,
however, I got a footing in Bengal, entered into some
little mercantile concerns, married a woman who
brought me some lacks, and am now as rich a merchant
in my line as any one in India.
" For many years I heard nothing of my own family,
though I was so happy as to have written and received
a kind answer from my father, before his death, but I
knew nothing of my brother's history till I met with
your son, Mrs. Finchley, at Calcutta, and hearing that
he was a native of Falmouth, I questioned him about
my poor brother; heard he was dead, and had left a
daughter, who was then actually under his aunt's care."
Mr. Townley had no reason to complain of want of
attention to his story, as he proceeded, for we all
looked eagerly at him, though no one spoke.
"As soon as I heard of my brother's child," continued he, " I resolved to come to England, and adopt
her, if I could find her, for I have never had any child
of my own; and accordingly I took my passage in the
same ship with your son-in-law and son, and this evening, as you know, am arrived here, where, by-the-by, I
can't boast much of my reception," added he, with a
smile, " for there was not one among you who as much
as said, Welcome to England, sir."
"Oh, sir," said Mrs. Finchley, " you must please to
forget that; if you had intended for us to have made
much of you, you should not have sent our dear William before you:" and the good woman in this part of
her speech was unable to refrain herself from throwing her arms again around the sun-burnt, yet fine youth,
who sat by her side.
" Come, come, Mrs. Finchley, do try to forget that
wild boy, and pay some attention to your guest," said
Mr. Townley; " and now, my good lady, can you tell
me any thing of my niece 1 where is the little girl T"
and he looked at Anna and me, and perhaps seeing something in our countenances which indicated more than
he quite understood, " Surely," he said, " surely she is
not present;" adding, as he looked at Anna, " my tender
lily, surely you can't be my niece! No, I am mistaken, I see; then it must be the little dimpled one
who clings so fast to Mrs, Finchley; tell me, my ex



308                   ERMINA.
cellent woman, is this little girl my poor brother's
daughter V"
" She is, sir, yes, she is," replied Mrs. Finchley, " this
child is Ermina Townley, your own niece, if you are indeed the brother of Mr. James Townley; and you may
guess how destitute the poor little thing must have been
to have been reduced so such a home as this."
"A happy, happy home," I exclaimed, clinging to Mrs.
Finchley; and I whispered, "don't let them take me
away from you, my dear, dear mother."
My uncle seemed instantly to conceive what was the
state of the case; for he immediately replied, " Dear
child, don't make yourself uneasy, you and I shall be
better acquainted by-and-by; but come to me, my
little niece, and give me one kiss for your father's sake,
and now back again to Mrs. Finchley's side." He then
called for another draught of porter, laid down the
money to pay for the supper, and promising to call the
next morning, walked off to the nearest inn, leaving us
behind to recover ourselves from the astonishment
into which the various events of the evening had
thrown us.
CHAPTER IV.
The proposed voyage to India-Mr. Townley's generosity to the
Finchley Family-Ermina and Anna embark-Their feelings, and
the subject of their conversation.
THE next morning my uncle came again to Mrs.
Finchley, and had a long conversation with her, after
which I was called, and asked if I should like to go with
him to India. The idea of leaving all those I knew, and
going with a total stranger, was dreadful to me, and I
therefore answered that I would rather stay where I
was.
I was then reasoned with, and my uncle promised
me many fine things, among which I remember a coach
and horses, if I would go with him; on which I replied,
I would go if I might take Anna with me, but not without; " But perhaps," said my uncle, " your favourite
Anna would not go with you."




ERMINA.                  309
"Then I will stay here," I replied, and at the same
time made my escape out of the room.
In the evening I was called again to my uncle, and
he then told me, that he had considered my proposal,
and resolved to take Anna with me, adding, to Mrs.
Finchley, that he considered this would be some kind
of return to her excellent sister, for what she, during
her life, had done for me; " and your niece," he added,
" shall fare alike in all things with mine, on this condition only, that as she is much older than Ermina, that
she take charge of her, and instruct her."
"She could do no less," said Mrs. Finchley, and the
good woman expatiated largely in praise of my uncle's
generosity.
" I see no generosity in the case," he replied, " I, who
am rich, am doing no more than what your sister did in
the utmost need."
"True," replied Mrs. Finchley, " and yet, sir, you
must allow me to say that I feel your kindness deeply."
" And what for V" said my uncle, " I am doing nothing
for you, and yet you have done as much for Minny as
your sister has."
"Don't speak of it, sir," she answered, " I could not
have found in my heart to let the poor thing want a
home."
" Well," returned my uncle, "you shall be none the
worse for what you have done; I am going to London,
and your sons must go with me to meet the ship and
receive their money, and after that I trust that we shall
all meet again in this place, and then we will talk a
little of your affairs; but in the mean time there are
twenty guineas, Mrs. Finchley, rig yourselves a little
better with them; and I shall be obliged to you if you
will look out for a good day-school, and let Minny and
her friend attend it, for I expect to be in England some
eighteen months, or thereabouts, and should wish the
girls to have every advantage of education."
The next morning my uncle set off to London in the
inside of the heavy coach, while the two young sailors
were on the outside; and Mrs. Finchley immediately
set to work to fit us for our attendance on the only respectable school then in Falmouth; where we learned
to read a little French, with the beginning of some
other accomplishments which we never had time to
bring to any kind of perfection.




310                 ERMINA.
My uncle was absent about six weeks, and when he
returned, brought with him the two young sailors, who
were both anxious to se tie at home; and then the kind
gentleman, for he was indeed always kind and warmhearted, made such arrangements for Mrs. Finchley's
family as relieved them at once from all their embarrassments. He settled Wilmot and his wife in the old
shop, and having got a situation in the dock-yard for
William Finchley, he settled the old couple in a neat little
cottage just out of the town, which he furnished for
them, settling upon them twenty pounds a year for their
lives, which, with the little Mrs. Finchley had received
from her father, which might be about ten pounds more,
and what she could earn with her needle, as she worked
for her daughter's shop, with what her husband might
obtain by any light labour he could perform, it was supposed they might live in comparative ease. In the mean
time, while all these arrangements were going on, Anna
and I were occupied continually with our school duties;
and I do not recollect being affected, as I afterward was,
by the prospect of the change of my situation; indeed,
during the eighteen months of my uncle's residence in
England, my heart clung so to Mrs. Finchley that I
could hardly bear to hear of my voyage, and more than
this, the truly discreet and pious manner in which this
excellent woman always spoke of the various reverses
of fortune, with the pomps and pleasures of this life,
certainly was a powerful means of keeping my mind in
a state of sobriety for it.
I have often thought that it is not so much the outward circumstances of pride and pomp which affect the
mind of youth, so much as the comments made on
these things by injudicious and worldly persons in their
hearing; and hence the care which should be taken by
all persons who wish to bring up their children in the
ways of holiness, to avoid all worldly, ambitious, and
covetous discourse in their presence.
As I have much to say respecting myself, after having
left England, and as my adventures in a foreign country, though no way remarkable, may probably possess
more interest for my young readers than any thing
which I can tell them previous to my leaving Falmouth,
I shall not say much of my separation from dear Mrs.
Finchley and her daughter; of the tears of Anna in
quitting her native shore; of the blessings poured upon




ERMINA.                  311
us by the worthy old couple; or of the agitation of my
young heart when I was lifted into the boat which was
to convey me to the East-Indiaman; but will entreat
my readers to endeavour, if they can, to conceive my
astonishment when I found myself in one of the best
cabins of the ship, surrounded with every possible comfort for a long voyage; with no other companions of
my apartment but my dear Anna and a black woman,
whom my uncle had provided as a servant.
At the back of our cabin was a window, in the quarter
of the ship, and from thence I beheld the bay, the town,
and the little boat which had brought us from thence,
together with the figure of William Finchley, who had
accompanied us. Anna stood with me at the window,
contemplating this scene, but I should despair of giving
any idea of our feelings: as the vessel was under-way,
we were soon obliged to quit the window by a heavy
sickness which came over us, and were forced to lay
ourselves on the beds which had been provided for us
on each side of the cabin. Being made thankful at the
same time that we had one with us, viz. our black servant, who was too experienced a sailor to be affected by
the motion of the vessel and swell of the sea. From
that time we saw England no more; the wide waters
had soon extended themselves between our vessel and
the shore, and before I was able to leave my bed, we
were past the latitude of the most southern point of
Europe.
My uncle came into our cabin, soon after we were
laid on our beds, and to my great surprise began to
laugh heartily at our afflictions, at the same time saying,'Well, Minny, I think you have done well to bring a companion with you, for at any rate there is some comfort
when in affliction, to have a friend who can sympathize
with you."
Anna recovered from her sickness sooner than I did,
for I remained a long time unable to rise from my bed,
and during the whole of that time I felt particularly unhappy. I had a kind of feverishness hanging about me,
which could not be overcome, and during that period I
had such a longing for the green and fresh scenes where
I had spent my early days, as I can in no way describe.
At this time the bleating of the sheep on the deck
used particularly to affect me, as it reminded me of a
breezy common near my dear governess's, where we




312                    ERMINA.
used to walk and play on a summer's evening, drinking
in the fresh air, and inhaling therewith all the fragrance
of a thousand spicy herbs. Once in particular, these images of rural life had taken such possesion of my mind,
that I started up in my sleep during the middle of the night,
and calling on some of my old school-fellows, added, that
I was ready to go out with them immediately, and then
being half awakened, and hearing the rushing of the
waters against the side of the ship, I began to sob violently, and could not be appeased till Anna came into
my bed, took me in her arms, and promised to hold me
during the rest of the night.
How sweetly, when I was come to my recollection,
did she then discourse with me on the presiding care of
Providence, and how beautifully did she enlarge on the
mighty works of mercy and of love, as displayed in the
salvation of man; and how tenderly did she sooth me
to sleep on her blameless bosom.  She was indeed a
lovely example of all that is rare and excellent in youth -
patient in adversity, moderate and humble in prosperity,
ever devoted to the service of others, and never engrossed by self. But are not these the effects of grace I
Man is naturally a selfish being, a stranger to that charity
which seeketh not its own; and hence we may be assured that whenever the love of self is effectually subdued, the Holy Spirit has not only commenced His
work but carried it on to a considerable extent.
CHAPTER V.
Ermina's recovery-Introduced to Mrs. Palmerston-Their profuse
outfit-Observations respecting dress-Anna's gratitude-Mrs.
Palmerston's affectation-Mistaken flattery-Her ideas of gentility
and love of finery contrasted with Anna's agitated feelings and in.
genuous sentiments.
WHEN our vessel had passed the stormy neighbourhood of the Bay of Biscay and we were entered into
calmer seas, I suddenly recovered-became eager for
food-and found myself in a few hours as well as I had
ever been in my life.
It was about noon on this day that my uncle came




ERMINA.                  313
into our cabin, bringing with him a Mrs. Palmerston,
who occupied the cabin next to ours. This was the
lady of a rich civilian in Bengal, who had been at home
for her health, and was then returning to her husband
with a large assortment of the latest Europe fashions,
in which she no doubt expected to make a splendid
figure among her old friends in Calcutta. " These, Mrs.
Palmerston," said my uncle, " are my young ladies; I did
not wish you to see them while they were unwell, for
you would not have seen them to advantage, but now
that they are fit to appear you will oblige me much if
you will take them by the hand and introduce them to
our friends on deck, and if you would add a few hints
respecting their dress, you would greatly oblige me;
they have hitherto, I believe, worn only their morning
gowns, for I foresaw how it would be, and ordered the
person in town who made their clothes to provide a
box of these sort of things, but I will order up another
box from the hold, and then if you will see that they are
dressed properly-"
" Surely, Mr. Townley," replied Mrs. Palmerston, " I
shall have the greatest pleasure in doing all you desire,
only send up the box and I promise you that your young
ladies shall have every assistance from me;" and she
seated herself on my bed, which was converted into a
sofa by day, with a sort of glee which people evince
when they are about to have a great treat.
" Have we any more clothes, uncle V" I said, in a low
voice. " More clothes than are there in that great box!
What an immense quantity we must have!"
" What does she say V" asked Mrs. Palmerston.
" Nothing at all," replied my uncle, " nothing but nonsense;" and he gave me a look, by which I was made to
understand that I must not say things of this kind again
in the presence of Mrs. Palmerston, but why, or wherefore, I could not imagine.
We had been measured for our clothes at Falmouth,
and our measures had been sent to London, and this is
all we had known about our sea stock: accordingly
when we saw one large box full of white linen wrappers, we had thought ourselves very rich indeed, and
Anna having counted up the contents of this box had
set herself in the most innocent manner to calculate
how frequently we might put on clean things, in order to
make our linen serve us for fiver months: neither she or
VOL. V.-O




314                   ERMINA.
I had ever dreamed of other boxes containing dress suits
of silk and muslin trimmed with lace, with sashes, veils,
necklaces, and all those etceteras which after a while
seem to become almost indispensable to the female sex.
We had been early taught that our ornaments were not
to be those of gold and pearls and costly array, but
those of a meek and quiet spirit, which in the sight of
God is of great price.
Oh happy simplicity:-how blessed was I while I retained that simplicity, and oh! how gladly would I
often, in later periods of my life, have exchanged all the
magnificent circumstances of oriental life, for the simple
taste and innocent delights of my childhood, and the
enjoyments of that simple period in which I had been
accustomed to adorn my straw hat with a garland of
roses, and to fancy myself splendidly decorated, and
when a new penny book, with a gilt cover excited a
degree of ecstasy which no acquirements however
splendid could afterward inspire.
How particularly desirable is a humble spirit and
moderate expectations; how many delights are within
the reach of those persons who possess a simple and
pure taste, from which the worldly minded are entirely
excluded! but although a simple state of mind may be
preserved in some degree in childhood, by judicious
management, how is it to be retained in after years,
when a person is compelled to see and hear so much
which tends to corruption?
By religion only, I reply; by a constant recourse to
the consideration of those first pure principles which
are laid down in Scripture for the benefit of man.
He that is impressed with a deep sense of his own
depravity and helplessness, must at the same time be
led to feel, that all he possesses of worldly goods is
more than he deserves, and hence, as his expectations
will be moderated, his desires will be fewer. He who
knows that if he is to be saved it must be through the
pure unmerited favour of God, and not through any
efforts of his own, must necessarily feel a sense of
obligation which must tend to the humbling of self in a
very great degree. And he whose hopes of future
happiness are built on the foundation of Christ himself,
must undoubtedly sometimes enjoy such foretastes
of future blessedness-must behold such glimpses of
future glory, as must in the comparison, throw all temporal




ERMINA.                 315
magnificence into deepest shade. But I must not forget,
while indulging in these reflections, what my uncle,
with the assistance of his man-servant, who was a
native of India, together with two or three sailors were
introducing into our cabin, namely, one chest, which he
immediately caused to be cleated down to the floor, together with two smaller boxes, one of which he presented to me and the other to Anna, at the same time
giving to each of us a key of these last, which he took
from his own pocket.
I received my box with the glee usual to youth, for I
was then not thirteen years, but the tears stood in
Anna's eyes; and as she looked up to my uncle, " Oh,
sir," she said, " how can I bear all your kindness? I
have no right to expect that you should treat me in this
manner."
"Peace, silly girl," said the fond gentleman, "will
you be content if I tell you that it is a pleasure to
me to do any thing for the niece of your two most excellent aunts; and if Minny ever forgets what she owes
to them, and to you too, I have done with her, so no
more of this."
All this passed somewhat aside, for Mrs. Palmerston
and our Indian servant, whom my uncle had taught us
to call Ayah, were busily engaged in opening the great
chest.
" I believe, Mr. Townley," said Mrs. Palmerston, " that
I must call upon you for assistance; for this lock is too
hard for me," and she rubbed her hand as if it had been
grievously sprained by the efforts she had made; on
which my uncle condoled with her, and she assumed the
patient sufferer in a manner which almost made me
laugh, as I had never seen any thing of this kind of
affectation in any person before; however a grave look
from Anna checked me.
When the affair of the sprained hand was settled,
and it had been found that the blacksmith must be called
to open the box, Mrs. Palmerston again seated herself
on the sofa, and began to talk to my uncle. "Mr.
Townley," she said, "you must now tell me which of
these sweet girls is your niece: yet I think I can guess,"
she added, looking at Anna, who was much prettier
and more delicate in her appearance than myself; "I
think I know; I am sure I am not mistaken."
Anna and I were both silent, and my uncle not seeing
02




316                   ERMINA.
the tendency of her eye, replied, "Don't you think her
like me; particularly about the upper part of the face;
making allowance for wrinkles and sun-drying V"
" Very like," replied Mrs. Palmerston, still looking at
Anna.
My uncle was a dark man with black eyes, and Anna
was particularly fair, having an uncommonly soft and
modest expression. However it was no matter what
Anna might be, Mrs. Palmerston affirmed that she was
excessively like my uncle. But on his calling me to him,
and raising my hair from my forehead to show her the
Townley brow, she perceived her mistake, and recovered
herself with great dexterity, replying that the likeness
about the forehead and the shape of the head was very
striking.
I remember that when a very little child, my governess had corrected me more than once, for a mocking
spirit, and I had for some years felt no inclination to
yield to this spirit; indeed I had been kept too lowly,
too humbly, and toq piously, to admit of any thing of the
kind, but at this moment I felt the temptation recur, and
if I did not speak I looked many saucy things.
" What do you call your sweet little niece, sir." said
Mrs. Palmerston.
"Ermina, madam, or Minny, if you like it better," replied my uncle.
" Ermina! what a sweet name," said Mrs. Palmerston,
" and what a lovely little girl belongs to the name," she
added, caressing me. " But Ayah, we must have this
pretty hair all nicely curled and parted, in this way. I
will show the ayah by-and-by, and you must hold up
your head, my dear; you have a pair of fine falling
shoulders, if you would make the best of them: and
those sweet coral lips, how lovely they are, we never see
such things in India, do we Mr. Townley T"  Thus she
went on till the lock was undone and a warmer interest
excited her, for she was precisely the person who delights in the view of fine clothes, even when belonging
to another.
My uncle, when he had ascertained that all was safe,
and no damage done to the box, made his escape, and
Anna and I remained perfectly still and stupified, while
Mrs. Palmerston and the ayah sifted the chest to the
bottom, and displayed to our view all sorts of gay and




ERMINA.                   317
rich dresses, for which my uncle could not have paid
less than some hundreds of pounds.
I should despair to give any idea of Mrs. Palmerston's
exclamations at the sight of this fine thing and that fine
thing; but she scattered the whole cabin, every chair,
table, bed, and couch, with the various suits, and looked
at us from time to time exclaiming, " Well indeed, Mr.
Townley has provided you well; these things are beautiful, but we know him to be worth an immense sum of
money, I know not how many lacks, and his house at
Garden Reach is one of the prettiest things in India.
Miss Townley, you will live like a princess; I know
that Mrs. Townley has a coach of her own, and your
uncle his chariot, and I have heard that no one gives
such dinners. Mrs. Townley has the most superb set
of diamonds of any lady in Calcutta; they were left
her by her father; he was an Armenian, and richer than
any Jew.  She was one of the Aratoons and a widow;
your uncle did a very good thing when he married her,
it was the making of him."
To all this I made no answer.  "Well, but Miss
Townley," continued Mrs. Palmerston, looking at her
watch, " we must settle what you are to wear to-day.
You know that it is not genteel to be over dressed on
board ship.  Come, what shall we select V" and she
looked at Anna.
" What you please, ma'am," replied Anna, and the
tears stood in her eyes.
Mrs. Palmerston looked at her for an instant with
amazement, and then said, " Why, my dear young lady,
what has grieved you  if you are hurt at seeing so
many fine clothes, you are the very first young lady I
ever met with who was ever afflicted by a circumstance
of this kind; but we shall be too late for dinner if we
do not set about what we have to do. She then selected
two dark lute-string slips from the mass of rich dresses,
and directing the ayah to dress us in them and curl my
hair, she promised to come again when she was herself
dressed and bring us out on deck; so saying, she left
the cabin.
As soon as Mrs. Palmerston was gone, I proposed
to Anna that we should open our boxes, but she advised
me to postpone it till night, and she immediately set to
work to restore the scattered articles to the chest, while
the ayah was curling my hair. I observed as she was




318                 ERMINA.
thus employed, that the tears fell, drop by drop, from
her eyes, though she endeavoured to conceal them. I
asked her no questions till the ayah went out to borrow
some curling-irons from Mrs. Palmerston, and I then
said, " What can be the matter with you, Anna V"
" Indeed, Minny," she replied, "I don't know, but I feel
myself quite overpowered with the sight of all this
finery, and the great importance which is attached to
these things. How happy and easy were we, my dear
Minny, with our excellent governess, when we had only
one plain white frock apiece, which was kept for
Sundays and holydays, and how proud we were (that is
how pleased and grateful) when our dear governess
gave each of us a yard of grass-green riband to tie our
Jonnets; and do you remember when one of the children's parents presented my governess with a present
of five guineas over and above what he owed her, how
I persuaded her to buy a new silk gown, and how she resisted my entreaties, and spent half the money on us
and sent the other half to Mrs. Finchley, then in her
greatest distress; but if you have forgotten all this,
Ermina, you cannot have forgotten how Mrs. Finchley
cut up her best gown to make you a frock, and how
pleased she was to see you in it."
" I remember all these things, Anna," I replied, " but I
don't understand wherefore they should make you unhappy now."
" I hardly know myself," said Anna, " but the sight of
all these things has made me strangely sad. I know, indeed, that it is necessary to dress according to the company we keep, and the fortunes we or our friends may
possess, therefore it may perhaps be necessary that we
should have all these fine things, Minny, for I am no
judge of these things, having only seen very humble life
till now; but I am sure it is not necessary to make such
a talking and bustle about them, and to speak of the
clothes we put upon our poor sinful bodies, as if our
eternal happiness depended on the colour and fashion of
them, must be wrong, I am sure; and this makes me
unhappy, and I can't help it."
She then repeated a part of that beautiful hymn of Dr.
Watts's, viz.
How proud we are, how fond to show
Our clothes, and call them rich and new, &c.




ERMINA.                   319
" Well," I said, with some tenderness, " there is one
comfort, our dear, dear governess is now clad even in
finer raiment than any which your hymn describes."
She looked at me as if desiring to ascertain if I
thoroughly understood what I had asserted.
" Yes," I said, " she is; for is she not arrayed in the
righteousness of our Saviour himself, which is brighter
and more beautiful even than the knowledge, virtue,
truth, and grace of the greatest saints now on earth V"
The reappearance of the ayah put an end to this
discussion, and here I close my chapter.
CHAPTER VI.
Anna and Ermina dress to be introduced to the company on board
the Indiaman-They differ respecting dancing-Mr. Townley
commends Anna's prudence-They arrive at Calcutta-Land
— Delighted with the country.
ABOUT a quarter before two, Mrs. Palmerston entered
our cabin again, and finding us dressed to her satisfaction, she led us out through the cuddy, or dining-room,
on deck, where she introduced us to our fellow-passengers, among whom we found several ladies, and numbers of gentlemen; chairs being brought us, we sat
under an awning to amuse ourselves with the novelty
of the scene. The deck was more than 150 feet long,
computing it from the stern to the bowsprit. At our
end were all the persons of our own rank, including
those who dined at the captain's table; and at the other
end sat all the passengers of lower rank, among which
were some private soldiers and their wives, who in such
situations are exposed to hardship such as no cottager
in England ever knows.
Immediately on our appearing, my uncle took Anna
under his arm, and walked up and down the deck with
her, but I was left with Mrs. Palmerston; and as there
was no other child on board, every one began to joke,
laugh, and romp with me. One asked me where I had
got my coral lips, and another where I had stolen my
bright eyes; another remarked the pretty curls on my
head, and a fourth asked me if I would be his partner in




320                   ERMINA.
the next dance, for it had been proposed that they should
dance every night on board, now that we had left the
more stormy seas.
I was at first confounded with all this, but I presently
began to feel myself more at ease, and then my natural
character, which as I before hinted, was that of a little
pert, mocking girl, presently began to appear, and we
raised such an uproar among us, that my uncle was presently obliged to call me to order. At length a drum and
fife called us to dinner, and as all the ladies were handed
to table, as if they had suddenly lost the use of their limbs
or senses, I must also be led into the dining-room in
great state, and no doubt thinking myself as good as the
very best of them.
My reader will perhaps say, can this be the little
simple, humble Minny, who sat but a few years past on
her governess's lap, to hear the story of the little
chuckoor, and the same little modest girl who shortly
since spent her whole time in hemming and stitching
shirts for sale, and committing portions of Scripture to
memory    Yes, it is the same; and if you, my young
readers, have never known yourselves but under the
tuition of careful parents, and in scenes of trial and adwersity, learn, from my example, what high prosperity
and flattery is most likely to make of you, and join with
me in this prayer: —Oh! Lord, restrain me as with bit
and bridle.
At dinner I found myself seated near Mrs. Palmerston,
and at a considerable distance from my uncle, to whom
my beloved Anna had attached herself.
I remember little of what passed at dinner, where
I was all amazement at every thing I saw; but I know
this, that Mrs. Palmerston suffered me to drink wine
with one or two gentlemen, who asked me, and that
before I rose from table I felt it in my head.
The same scene which had been acted upon deck in
the morning was repeated after dinner, and when we
had taken tea and coffee, as it was a remarkably fine
night, we began to think of dancing, and Mrs. Palmerston insisted that I should dance, which I was very
willing to do. While they were settling their partners,
I ran into my cabin to get a pair of gloves, and there I
found Anna seated at the table, reading by the light of a
lamp which hung from the roof of the ship, while the
ayah was placed on the floor at work by her side.




ERMINA.                  321
Where are my gloves, Ayah t" I said, calling about me
as if I had been born a princess. The ayah rose and
handed them to me, and I was running out again, when
Anna said, "Minny, what are you doing  I wish you
would not think of dancing."-" And why V' I asked.
"Because, if my poor aunt were living, she would not
have approved it,"
" Why, what's the harm of dancing V" I asked, stopping short.
" There is no harm in dancing itself," she replied, " you
may recollect that we used often to dance on the grassplat to our dear governess's guitar, but then you know
that she always explained to us that what might be very
innocent among brothers and sisters and school-fellows,
was not so among strangers. You know that there
is no harm in puss-in-the-corner and blindman's-buff
among little children, but such games would be very
silly among grown people, and people who are strangers
to each other; and dancing is like these plays, innocent
in itself, but not proper at all times and in all companies;
and I do wish, Minny, you would take my advice for
once, and come to bed instead of dancing."
" I can't see the harm of dancingnow," I replied pertly.
" Very well," she replied, " and it is possible you may
not; but this you do understand, Minny, that it is always
right to take the advice of your friends, particularly
those who are older than yourself."
" Older!" I said, "dear me! you are suddenly grown
very ancient indeed, Anna, and yet you are not four
years older than I am."
" There is one thing to be considered, Minny," she replied, " and that is, that both you and I are suddenly deprived of all our former guides and counsellors, and
therefore it behooves us to be directors to each other;
and therefore, in want of a better, it becomes your duty
to attend to me, and if I give you bad advice, I am answerable for it."
"Oh, as to that," I said, " I don't suppose you will give
me any bad advice."
"Well, then," said she, "that settles the matter, and I
will send the ayah for your uncle, and we will be guided
by him."
Accordingly my uncle was sent for, and Anna having
informed him that she thought we were both better in
our rooms at this hour, he commended her prudence,
03




322                   ERMINA.
said he entirely agreed with her, and promised her to
make some excuse to Mrs. Palmerston for my absence,
and from that time we were not asked again to dance,
though, I confess that I was sometimes mortified when
I heard the tabor and fife upon deck.
As soon as my uncle was gone, we opened our boxes,
and found an immense assortment of all kinds of trinkets, with scissors, needles, pins, thimbles, knives, ribands, necklaces, &c. &c.; and in arranging and rearranging these, I presently forgot my disappointment.
The rest of our days at sea during the fine weather
passed much as this which I have described, but in
weathering the Cape we had some severe storms, which
put all vanities out of my head, and that no doubt of
many others in the ship; and in the Bay of Bengal we
were also much tossed about, so that I became heartily
tired of the ship, and saw, with no small pleasure, the
Island of Sauger, after a six months' passage.
When the vessel came to anchor in Diamond Harbour, which is at the mouth of the Hoogley, my uncle
immediately forwarded a messenger to Calcutta, and in
as short a time as possible afterward, a pinnace arrived
to convey us to Garden Reach, where Mrs. Townley
then was.
Into this pinnace we were shortly afterward conveyed with our baggage, and proceeding with one tide,
arrived at Fulta, where was an inn by the water-side.
I have little recollection of this inn, though it was the
first Indian dwelling I had ever visited: it stood, as well
as I remember, in a dry sandy plain, though in its immediate vicinity was a garden, which being well watered,
produced all the plants of the climate, though the heat
was such, and the glare of the atmosphere so great, that
we could hardly amuse ourselves even with looking
from the doors. We had a handsome dinner at Fulta,
served up in a great hall, where at least half a score of
my uncle's servants attended us, affording me much
amusement by their turbaned heads, thick mustachios,
and muslin habits.
The tide did not serve us again till near midnight, at
which time we re-embarked, and lying down on our
couches, enjoyed repose till morning, when waking we
found all still around us-the pinnace fastened to the
shore, and our windows opening on a beautiful garden,
the trees of which feathered down to the water's side,




ERMINA.                 323
and filled our small apartment with a fragrance which
equalled that of the most aromatic spice, at the same
time the warblings of small birds, together with the distant note of the dove, met our ears-and oh! how delightful, how inexpressibly delightful, were these sounds
and odours to us, who had been so long pent up in an
East-Indiaman.
I started up immediately, and not having been undressed, put my head as far as I could out of the window; there I beheld a variety of the most charming
trees and flowers, growing in groups and singly, on a
lawn of the richest verdure. I knew not the name of
a single tree, for all were equally new and strange to
me, some being laden with thick foliage of a dark and
brilliant green, and embellished with large spikes of
flowers whiter than snow-others having leaves so fine
and delicate that they seemed as if they would almost
shrink from  the touch-some being decorated with
golden balls-and some with crimson, and star-like
bells-while others raised their verdant coronets high
above all the rest, as if they would assert a regal dignity
above all the forest.
"Oh! Anna, Anna," I exclaimed, "how beautiful,
how very, very beautiful! and is this India. it is surely
more like Paradise!" Anna was equally delighted with
myself, and understanding that our long, long voyage
was at an end, we hastened to change our dresses, in
order that we might be ready to go on shore whenever
we might be summoned.
We were no sooner ready than my uncle appeared on
the bank with two servants, carrying immense umbrellas; for as it was not more than seven in the morning, and the garden considerably shaded by the trees, he
wished us to walk up to the house, and we were perhaps more impatient to accompany him thither than he
to conduct us, for, as I afterward found, he had more
domestic difficulties than he wished to have supposed.




324                    ERMINA.
CHAPTER VII.
Garden Reach described-Anna and Ermina introduced to her Aunt
and to company-Mrs. Townley makes them presents-They
ride in the coach, where Anna contrasts their present and former
situations.
WE had passed for a short space under an embowered
walk of fragrant shrubs before we came out upon the
lawn, and saw my uncle's house directly before us; and
to the right and left, though at some distance, other
houses of the same description, all of which looked like
palaces.  My uncle's house was a stone building, or at
least one that looked like stone, of two stories in
height, being encircled by columns which supported the
roof. The roof itself was flat, and was guarded by balustrades; within the pillars, on the ground-floor, was a
verandah, and on the second floor a gallery, into which
every chamber opened by two or more doors; these
doors were all latticed with green, and from the centre
of the house large wings extended on each side, having
also their columns, with their verandahs and galleries.
Had I been a heathen I should have been almost inclined to have said that fortune was amusing herself in
playing me tricks, and making me giddy, by raising me
at once from the bottom to the very top of her wheel,
for certainly nothing could well be greater than the contrast between this splendid habitation and Mrs. Finchley's kitchen in Falnouth. I was, however, too young
to meditate very deeply on this extraordinary change
of fortune; otherwise 1 might, perhaps, have been led
to apprehend that the new lot which I had drawn might
not be so entirely divested of its attendant evils as at
first appeared. But young persons at the age I then
was, are not deep or curious reasoners. I felt but little
admiration and delight at all I saw, and though my
uncle walked quickly, I was, I believe, always a few
steps before him.
At length we reached the house, and passing through
the verandah, stepped into a magnificent hall, which
extended the whole length of the building, having large




ERMINA.                  325
folding-doors open at the other end, through which
doors I saw many trees.
There were three rooms on each side of the hall, in
one of which was a superb hanging staircase, by which
we ascended into an elegant upper room of the same
size as the hall. This room was covered with a fine
matting, and hung with chandeliers of cut glass; there,
a table of great length was set out for breakfast in such
a style as I had never before even conceived, for the
glass, silver, and china seemed almost sufficient to
furnish a shop, and at the upper end of the room sat a
lady, whom I was made to understand was my aunt.
I certainly was somewhat startled when I first saw
her, for I had expected the lady of such a fine house to
be something superlatively elegant: I therefore rather
hung back, and required a little encouragement from my
uncle before I could be persuaded to advance.
My uncle had appeared to me to be about fifty years
of age, but this lady was certainly sixty; she was extremely stout, as well as tall, was highly rouged, had
very dark eyes, and particularly strongly marked dark
arched eyebrows, which met over the bridge of her
nose; her complexion was sallow as well as brown, for
she was of Armenian extraction, and her father's family
having been long in India, it is probable that she was
not wholly unallied to the natives, though probably remotely. Her dress was as singular as her person-it
was extremely rich with lace, her hair was elaborately
dressed, early as it was in the day, her throat bare, with
the exception of a narrow black velvet collar, and her
hands were covered with jewels. She sat on a large
chair, with her feet on a footstool, called in India a
mora, and was engaged in giving some orders to a native servant, who was himself covered with silver ornaments, and stood bowing, or rather cringing before her,
with his hands in the attitude used by little children
when they say their prayers, at the moment we
entered.
As we advanced up the room she put her glass to her
eye to look at us, but did not move, and as my uncle
presented me to her, not a single line of her face
changed, but she said she was glad to see me, hoped I
was well, and said I was welcome to India, all of which
sentences she uttered in a kind of foreign accent, and in
as harsh a voice as ever issued from a woman's lips.




326                 ERMINA.
My presentation being over, that of Anna's ensued,
and I then perceived that my aunt had meant to be gracious when she had spoken to me, for she threw such
excessive haughtiness into her manner when she spoke
to Anna, that it was with much difficulty that my
lovely young companion could refrain from tears; my
uncle, however, seemed resolved that Anna should not
be left to doubt that she was welcome, at least to him,
for he presently called her to the other end of the room,
to show her the view towards the river, and then I
heard him say to her, " You must not trouble yourself
about Mrs. Townly, she is a foreigner, and does not
understand our manners; but you may depend upon my
friendship."
" I know it, sir," replied Anna, modestly, " I know
your generosity."
" And my gratitude," said my uncle; "you have a
right to my gratitude."
While standing at the window we saw several wheelcarriages drive up to the house, besides two palanquins,
and a moment afterward half a dozen or more gentlemen were ushered into the room to breakfast with my
aunt, who talked and laughed with them with as much
vivacity as a girl of sixteen.
The gentlemen were scarcely arrived, and the ceremonies of introduction between ourselves and them had
hardly taken place, before about a dozen servants entered in a long procession, with materials for breakfast;
a moment afterward the table was covered, and a servant or more ranged themselves behind each chair. I
think I counted four behind that of my aunt, and three
behind my uncle. My aunt, however, soon directed
one of hers to attach himself to my service, on which
my uncle sent one of his to Anna, telling him that he
Gsq henceforward to be considered as her attendant.
I observed all this, but I suppose that it was not generally noticed. We sat a long time, for the gentlemen
and my aunt had their hookas or pipes, and there was a
great deal of conversation, very little of which I understood. After breakfast the gentlemen took their leave,
and my uncle then showed us a long suite of rooms,
including a sleeping-room, dressing-room, and bathingroom, which he said were to belong to us; this room
opened into the large sitting-room above stairs. In the
bed-rooms were no carpets or curtains, but the floor




ERMINA.                 327
was covered with matting, and there were two beds
hung with fine China gauze. The dressing-room was
furnished with couches, tables, and almiras or cabinets,
and commanded a fine view over the gardens towards
Fort William. Here the kind old gentleman shook
hands with Anna, and kissing me, said, " My children, I
trust that you will be happy, you shall fare alike, and be
subject to no one's caprices. And you, Minny, I charge
to love and obey Anna, for I have had proof sufficient of
her discretion." He then introduced two ayahs and an
inferior female servant, who were to wait upon us; he
also told us that there was a dirge or tailor to be devoted to us; and promised us that when he went to
Calcutta he would buy us a little carriage and horses, in
order that we might go out when we liked. He then
left us, and we looked at one another with amazement,
to find ourselves in possession of such indulgences.
Soon after we heard my uncle loud in talk with his
wife in the next room, shortly after which he left the
house to go to Calcutta, which was at a short distance.
My uncle had not long departed before we were called
into the presence of my aunt, who was much more gracious to Anna than she had been at breakfast, by which
I was led to conjecture that my uncle had laid his commands upon her to that effect.
When we appeared before her, she was very busy
with a cloth merchant, who was spreading before her a
great variety of the finest worked muslins. She immediately presented me with several pieces, and gave as
many of the same to Anna, desiring that they might be
immediately made up for us, and only laughing when
we told her that we had already more clothes than we
could count. She then dismissed the merchant, and retired to her own apartments in one of the wings of the
house, where she spent most of her time with her female
servants; but how that time was employed I never
could devise, for she neither worked, read, nor wrote,
and as to music and drawing she never thought of such
things, but she had three tailors always sewing for her,
and she was much occupied in directing their employments, and arranging her jewels, trinkets, laces, and
ribands.
We met at two o'clock to a kind of dinner; my uncle
was, however, absent, and we should have been dread



328                 ERMINA.
fully dull had not two gentlemen dropped in who were
distant connexions of my aunt's.
After dinner all our baggage arrived, having passed
the custom-house, and we busied ourselves in seeing
our things unpacked, and sent to be washed, and arranged in our cabinets, and we were utterly amazed
when we put all together, and found how we were supplied.
We however were delighted to find a box of books,
which my uncle had provided for us, and though we did
not open it, we acounted it a most valuable treasure.
About five o'clock we were made to understand that
we were to dress as smart as we could, and we then sat
down under the hands of our ayahs, who arranged our
hair most skilfully for us, and dressed us from head to
foot without the smallest exertion of our own. Being
dressed, we walked down into the hall, and there saw
several carriages drawn up before the door. One was
a coach precisely the same as an English one; another
was a kind of open chair, carried by bearers; and 1
know not what else. But all these several equipages
belonged to my aunt, and while we were looking on
them we received a message from her, stating that if
we wished for an airing the coach was at our service,
as she was not going out.
This was too tempting an offer to persons who, as it
happened, had never been in a coach in their lives, and
an airing in a new country is certainly a very interesting thing, whatever it may be in one well known; and
accordingly Anna and I entered the carriage, and were
driven away we knew not whither.
"Well," said Anna, smiling, as soon as we found ourselves shut up together, and out of everybody's hearing,
" so we are riding in our coach, and have our waitingmaids, and our fine dresses, and our footmen. Oh!
Minny, Minny, what is to come next t I only wish that
my aunt could see us, it would amuse her above all
things, but I should not be the least surprised if, this
time twelvemonth, we were both to find ourselves ladies'
maids, or perhaps something lower."
" Why, Anna," I replied, "what chance is there that
we should ever be ladies' maids?"
"What chance, Minny," she replied, "there is no
such thing as chance-every thing, you know, is or



ERMINA.                  329
dered by Providence, and no man is so great, or so sure
of greatness, but that he is liable to fall, and no one so
low, but he may be raised; and this reflection ought
always to make us humble in prosperity, and cheerful
in adversity; now for instance, Minny," she added,
" when you and I were making the check shirts in my
dear aunt's little kitchen at Falmouth-"
" Oh! don't talk of that, Anna," I said; "pray don't,
you know my uncle does not like it."
" But your uncle is not here," replied Anna, laughing,
" and I like to remember these things-the recollection
is now so amusing, particularly when compared with
our present grandeur. The change at first overcame
me, because I could not bear such a waste of good
things being made upon me; but now I see things in a
different light, and think it my duty to take things as
they come, and try to bear all changes with an equal
mind; and ever to recollect that there are valleys as
well as hills in this world, and that we must pass
through one as well as another in our way to the celestial city, and before we can arrive at that blessed state
of things in which the valleys will be elevated, and the
mountains laid low."
I did not at this time enjoy all these grave discussions.
I had not the relish for them which I had had at Falmouth; I had lately been highly excited, and I was in a
state which required more and still more excitement,
and I did therefore what I could to divert Anna's attention, by calling it to the objects which presented themselves from without.
CHAPTER VIII.
The country near Garden Reach-Conversation at dinner, and
between Ermina and Anna on retiring to rest.
THE carriage had by this time passed the gates, and
traversing a way towards the interior between two gardens, we presently arrived at a long shady road, where
fresh and striking objects met our view every moment
-the horses' heads were towards Calcutta, though




330                 ERMINA.
still at a great distance. On our left were the gardens
and houses of Garden Reach, and on our right many
native huts and tanks-there also we saw many of the
native women walking about without shoes on their feet,
and wrapped in webs of cloth, of which they formed
petticoats and veils, some of them bearing pitchers on
their heads and shoulders, as we often see in old pictures,
and others carrying their little black naked children on
their hips. We also passed by the door of a great pagoda, wherein we saw a frightful image, somewhat
like a monkey, with many arms and three faces; and
whereas this pagoda was quite dark within, we could
not have seen the image had it not been for two lamps
which were burning before it. We were at first much
amused by these new objects, but the more we looked
upon them the more we were made aware of the deep
gloom shed over these heathen regions, and these habitations of the poor natives, when compared with the
dwellings of our cottagers in England; and indeed no
one who has not visited a heathen country can conceive a just idea of the human countenance when wholly
divested of all religious feelings. Our coachman turned
his horses almost as soon as we had passed the pagoda;
but long before we reached home we perceived a heavy
fog, which arose from  the swamps, and tanks, and
marshes, and rested like clouds on the thick masses of
foliage on each side of the road; at the same time we
observed a rank smell, such as may be perceived in
woods in Europe at the time of the fall of the leaf, when
the air is particularly damp.
It was quite dark, for the sun in these latitudes sets
at six o'clock for the greatest part of the year, and there
is little or no twilight, because the sun drops directly
down under the horizon.
When we arrived in my uncle's garden the house
shone like an illumination, long streams of vivid light
issuing from every door and window, for the lamps in
every girandole and wall shade were already lighted.
In passing through the hall we were astonished to see a
long table set out in the most splendid manner, and glittering with cut glass and gold and silver plate in the
greatest profusion. We hastened up to our rooms, and
remained there till my uncle came to fetch us, and to
introduce us to a very large party, which was already
assembled in the upper room, but which, as it consisted




ERMINA.                  331
chiefly of gentlemen, and few young people, did not
seem to promise me much amusement. I accordingly
sat down, supposing that no one would think of me,
but I was mistaken; for no sooner was it understood
that I was Mr. Townley's niece, than one and another
began to address me. I was desired to come forward
and pay my compliments, and in return I had a thousand
pretty things said to me on my fine fresh colour, sweet
complexion, &c. by which my little head, which was
never one of the steadiest, became completely turned. I
tripped with short steps through the centre of the circle,
lisped my words in a very babyish manner, and I have
no doubt, looked not a little like a simpleton.
We were all handed down to dinner in great state, and
I found myself seated between two persons who talked
to me as if I had been a little princess, and asked me
many questions about England, which country they
either had never seen, or quite forgotten. I was very
careful not to say any thing which might lead them to
think that I had not been quite as great a person at home
as I was in India.
I have often since reflected how very easy it is to destroy that simplicity which is so sweet in childhood, and
to make would-be fine ladies of the most ignorant and
superficial young persons. We sat a long while at dinner, and notwithstanding the novelty of the scene, I was
most heartily tired, and truly glad when the ladies got
up to leave the room.
We sat with my aunt and the other ladies till after
tea, which was brought up on silver salvers; after which
Anna asked my aunt if we might retire; and having obtained permission, we withdrew to our beds.
When in our rooms, Anna proposed that we should
read our Bibles and pray, and I was ashamed to say
that I was not in a humour for these exercises; I, however, made no objection, after which we went to bed,
each in a separate bed, but as they were light, we
pushed them so near to each other that we could converse conveniently.
" My dear Minny," said Anna, "I am glad to find
that we shall have a good deal of time to ourselves in
this place; we have no young companions, which I am
very glad of, as there is a chance that they might not
have been such as we might have relished,"




332                  ERMINA.
"But it makes it dull," I answered, " to see only old
people."
"Dull!" replied Anna, "did we find it dull, Minny,
when we sat working together in Mrs. Finchley's
kitchen    Ah! Minny, it was not dull then, for God
was with us, and we were all in all to each other, we
took sweet counsel together, and walked together in
the house of God."
"What makes you so grave, Anna 3" I asked.
"I don't know," she replied, " but I am almost afraid
that all these fine things may divert us from our duty;
but I will tell you what we will do,-we will make ourselves some rules for spending our time, and pray that
we may be enabled to keep to them."
"We can't have rules here, Anna," I replied.
" And why not t" she said.
"Oh, I don't know," I answered; " we shall be wanted
to go out, and to see company, and those kind of
things."
" We will see about that, Minny," said Anna; " if interruptions occur sometimes, we must submit to them,
but we will have as few as we can. Your uncle told
me to-day, at dinner, that we were to have the little
carriage to-morrow. We will get up early and take a
ride, and then we will come home and be dressed for
breakfast, and we will read while they are dressing us;
we will read the Bible at that time, in order that our
ayahs may hear it, for they understand English very
well, you find, though it is rather an odd sort of English. Then breakfast will be ready, and that will take
us up till near nine; then we can come back into our
rooms, and we will read, and write, and draw a little,
till one, and at one we will walk in the verandah, or read
some of our new books; then will come luncheon, or
tiffin, as they call it, and after that, if we find the heat
great, we may lie on our couches and read again, and
then we must dress and go out, I suppose, and after that
dinner and company, which is tiresome enough, certainly, for who wants two dinners in a day 3 and then a
little time with your aunt, and the Bible aagin, and to
bed. This is the way in which we may pass our time
very comfortably, if you like it, Minny."
" I don't know," I replied, " I want to look about me,
and to go about; I don't like all this confinement,I want to see new things; I want to see Calcutta, I




ERMINA.                    333
want-" and here I stopped, for I really did not know
what I wanted."
"Well," said Anna, after having waited some time,
"please to finish your sentence, Minny, or shall I finish
it for you."
"You may, if you please," I answered.
"Well then, I will," she said: " you want somewhat
of that humble, moderate, and contented state of mind
which you enjoyed at Falmouth, when we sat together
working for our bread, and thankful for a few potatoes
and a little morsel of cold meat for our dinners-when
we should have thought one of our morning wrappers
a superb garment, and our very nightcaps the most elegant headdresses that could be devised!  Oh! my
Minny, let us pray that we may be enabled to bear our
prosperity with moderation; it is certain that of ourselves we have not strength so to do, but the Almighty
is all-sufficient, and he can make perfect his strength in
our weakness; let us pray that we may be kept in this
hour of trial; that we may be upheld, that we may be
enabled to retain our integrity, that the vanities of this
world may not have power to seduce, but that we may
keep a calm and even course, being always in a state of
preparation for whatever afflictions it may please God
to try us with. For this world, my Minny, is not our
home; it cannot be a resting-place to any one, because
it is a place of sin; and where sin is, there necessarily
must be sorrow, in one form or another. The times of
prosperity, and those of adversity," added this lovely
young creature, " are brought by reflection much upon
a par in the mind of a true Christian; for independent
of those secret consolations which the child of God
experiences oftentimes in the periods of sorrow, from
the sensible presence of his Creator, his experience of
the variableness of human events gives him hopes
that some change may occur to bring him relief, whereas
the same conviction of the uncertainty of human affairs
makes him fearful and moderate in prosperity, and induces him to make such a use of his good fortune as
shall enable him to look back on his times of elevation
with comfort. Now, my Minny, is the time for your
exercise of moderation; and now you ought to think,
in your turn, of what you can do for the orphan and
friendless, not to speak of those who were your friends
when you had no one to look upon you; and now, feel



334                   ERMINA.
ing your own weakness, and liability to fall and be carried
away by temptation, you should be more than ever earnest in seeking the divine help, and using your privileges (as a child of God, which I trust you are) to throw
yourself on the divine mercy, and to implore the divine
direction.
"Let us pray every day," added she, "let us even
now pray that the Lord may be our guide-that we may
be the objects of the love of the Father-that we may
be of the number of those who have been justified by
God the Son-and that we may be sanctified by God the
Holy Spirit, and finally be received into glory.
" If no other consideration can touch us, Minny, let
us recollect that we are now in a country and a climate
which has been fatal to many English people-a country
over which even now, in the finest season, hang many
heavy fogs and damps; and where we must expect much
severer heat than we now endure; and where, if affliction should come in no other form, it is not unlikely
that it will come in that of disordered health.
" Oh! Minny, my dear Minny, even now there is much
which ought to make us serious, at least which ought
to keep us from giving way entirely to vanity and folly."
Anna was proceeding, when hearing me sob on my
pillow, she begged me to pardon her for speaking thus
seriously; and then assuring me that she only did so
from motives of real affection, she wished me a good
night, and I presently afterward perceived that she had
fallen asleep.
CHAPTER IX.
Anna's affectionate policy-Mr. Townley's advice to Ermina-The
box of books-Account of Garden Reach-Mr. Townley's SeatThe Aratoon Family-Anna's ideas of them-She reverts with
concern to their happy days when with their dear Governess at
School.
I HAVE some idea that Anna, though unnoticed by me,
contrived to gain my uncle to her side, with respect to
the plans she had formed for the management of me;
for immediately after breakfast, the old gentleman




ERMINA.                  335
whispered to me to withdraw, adding, " And now, Minny,
as I hope you have recovered your fatigues, I advise
that you should return to your books; you know that
your education is by no means complete."
I coloured at this hint, and looked at Anna, but obeyed
immediately, and made no resistance to perform the
exercises Anna required of me. This lovely young
creature was not herself accomplished, but she was
anxious to improve, and did her best to improve me:
and under these circumstances I might have improved,
and become a very different person to what I am. And
here I must indulge myself in some reflections on the
nature of ignorance, which is personified inits proper colours only by one author whom I ever met with; this author is old John Bunyan, whose character of ignorance is,
a happy compound of darkness, obstinacy, indolence, and
self-conceit. On reading the Pilgrim's Progress some
years since, I was deeply struck with the justness of this
description, and comparing it with Scripture, fully convinced of its deep foundation in the nature of the human
heart; for St. Paul, speaking of the heathen, says, " Who
having the understanding darkened, being alienated from
the love of God through the ignorance that is in them,
because of the blindness of their heart." Ignorance,
therefore, is generally the consequence of obstinacy,
and a determination of rejecting the truth; and idleness
is, no doubt, the fruit of such determination in most instances. Hence it will generally be found,.  am persuaded, that an idle child is an obstinate one, however
that obstinacy may be veiled by a pleasing exterior, a
gracious manner, or a smiling countenance; and this is
a hint which, I trust, some of my readers may be induced to improve. But to return to my own history.
I worked with Anna during the whole morning, and
at one o'clock my uncle came into our room, and the
box of books was opened, where, to our great delight,
we found a large assortment of the best books of that
day, for young people, with many voyages and travels,
and histories. My uncle directed us to place these
books in one of our cabinets, and then took us into the
verandah below, to show us our carriage, which was at
the door, and was a kind of little vis-a-vis, calculated
to hold two persons sitting opposite to each other, and
drawn by two small horses, telling us at the same time
that we were to have the sole command of this carriage;




336                  ERMINA.
but that he wished we would not be out in it after seven
in the morning, or before five in the evening, excepting
on very particular occasions.
Thus passed the morning of the second day at Garden
Reach. After tiffin we lay upon our sofas and read our
new books, and at five we were to prepare to go with
my aunt to Calcutta, where she was to meet a few
friends at dinner in her town house. A little before six
we were ready, and accompanied my aunt in her coach.
I have frequently spoken of Garden Reach in the
course of my narrative. It is now a line of noble
houses, standing in gardens along the left bank of the
Hoogley, as you descend towards the sea; but when I
first went to India there were only a few scattered
country houses along this bank, but these perhaps
looked the more beautiful for standing alone. Fort
William, which is situated in a line with these houses,
but nearer Calcutta, was then very incomplete, though
I believe that its buildings were then commenced. The
habitations of the Europeans in Calcutta were also
comparatively few, and mostly built round the old fort,
which is in the centre of the town, beyond the residence
of the English; yet still along the banks of the river
was the Black Town, where the natives chiefly resided,
though among these were some scattered houses of
Europeans, or half-Europeans, Armenians, and merchants from other countries, some of whom were immensely rich, though they associated little with the
English. My uncle was not in the service of the East
India Company, and was therefore accounted of no rank;
but he was always highly respected, and his riches and
liberality gave him great influence. It was not a very
light evening, therefore I saw but little till we arrived
in Calcutta, where our way was sufficiently illuminated
by the lights which issued from the houses, which were
all large, and built with open galleries and verandahs.
My uncle's house was very large; it was situated very
near the old fort, and the whole of the ground-floor was
occupied by offices and warehouses. We ascended to
the second floor by a wide stone staircase, as dirty as
the streets themselves, and entered an immense range
of rooms, which, though handsomely furnished, had a
particularly gloomy appearance; here we were almost
devoured by mosquitoes.
On this occasion we met with a large family of the




ERMINA.                  337
name of Aratoon, including a father, a mother, several
brothers, four daughters, one of whom was married, and
another about my own age, and sundry cousins and
connexions, who were all more or less nearly connected with my aunt.
These persons were all of Armenian extraction, yet
had somewhat of the appearance of the natives, which
led me to suppose that they were somehow connected
with them. Their dresses were very peculiar and very
gay, as to colours, but their countenances were heavy,
and their features strongly marked. The mother and
married daughter were especially laden with jewels.
We had a very grand dinner, but conversed little, and
indeed it was impossible to talk much, because there
was such a bubbling with the water in the hookahs, for
almost every one smoked, excepting the very young
girls.
After dinner the ladies did not withdraw, as is the
usual custom, but the party being only a family one,
they sat together with the gentlemen, but we, that is,
the younger girls, were permitted to escape, and we
hastened into another room, where Anna and I should
have found quite sufficient amusement in looking out
into the street, and gazing by star-light at the tower of
the old fort, which rose directly behind the opposite
house, and meditating upon the bloody and strange deeds
which had so lately passed there, of which we had so
often heard my uncle speak, when miss, or mademoiselle, or whatever other title you may please to give
her, Almeria Meriam Olivia Sophronisba Aratoon,-for
the Armenians are exceedingly fond of long and fine
names,-came to join us in the window, and instantly
began a conversation with me.
I should despair of giving you any idea of the figure
of this girl, who might have been about two years older
than myself.  She was extremely stiffly and tightly
laced, or appeared to be so; had a very long waist, and
a gown or frock of exceedingly rich flowered silk; her
hair, which was black as a raven, was tightly drawn up
from her forehead, and she wore a round silk cap. Her
neck was covered, as I then thought, with green beads,
but I afterward understood that they were real emeralds,
and she had large drops of the same in her ears. Her
complexion was sallow, and her eyes large, black, and
bright, but not agreeable in their expression.
VOL. V.-P




338                   ERMINA.
At first I could not comprehend what she said, not so
much from her strange accents as from the entire novelty of the ideas which she endeavoured to express, for
she talked of things and people I had never heard of,
and uttered all the sentiments of a worldly old woman,
in the shrill accents of a girl.
She took little notice of Anna, but insisted upon it that
I should come to see her, informing me that she lived
at a very little distance from Calcutta, and that I should
find much amusement in her father's house. I at first,
as I said before, could not comprehend a word she said,
but her elder sister having engaged Anna in conversation, she presently contrived to make me understand her
better, and she contrived, even during this our first intercourse, to put some notions into my head which I
could not easily get rid of, and which worked a more
pernicious effect because I could not bring my mind to
impart them to Anna; and this first want of confidence
in my real friend was the beginning of an alienation
from her, which had an effect very little foreseen by me
at that time. We had been about two hours with these
young people, when we were summoned to the coach,
for although my aunt had her apartments and establishment at Calcutta, she fancied she could never sleep
well in the town; we accordingly went back to Garden Reach, and soon found ourselves again in our own
chamber.
When alone with Anna, she without hesitation told me
that she did not like the young people whom we had met
that evening, and added, tTtlt she should do all in her
power to avoid an intimacy with them.
I asked her what reason she had for disliking them.
She replied, that she hoped she had no bad feelings
towards them, but that she believed them to be far from
pious or even correct young people, and that she felt
assured that they would never profit either me or herself," and therefore," said she," I shall endeavour to avoid
an intimacy; and I blame myself much, Minny," she said,
"for leaving you this evening, but I was off my guard.
You and I must keep together, and then we shall be a
protection to each other."
From that period, for several months, things went on
with little variety.  I remember few  events:-Mrs.
Aratoon had been taken ill, and we saw no more of the
family for some time. My uncle was at home at break"




ERMINA.                   339
fast and dinner, and kept up the authority of Anna. My
aunt took little notice of us, but we were both flattered
by the visiters, Anna by one set and I by another. I
did not observe that Anna was the least changed by
these flatterers, but I certainly from day to day became
more full of myself-less occupied by religious feeling,
-more indolent, haughty, and conceited,-more dissatisfied under the gentle control of my lovely Anna,more unwilling either to look back on my past life in
England, or on those things which were to follow at the
end of time, the serious impressions which I had formerly received being only strong enough to. give me
some pain. Pleasure I had none, in any subject connected with my God, and I was so entirely taken up
with my fine possessions, fine acquaintance, and magnificent modes of life, that the times when things had been
otherwise with me seemed but as a dream or vision of
the night.
If ever I was at all softened, it was when Anna reverted to our days at school, which she did in so artless
and tender a way, that I could scarcely, on some occasions, refrain from tears. Once in particular, in the
month of February, she said to me, " I wonder, Ermina,
whether our dear governess's mezereon tree is already
in blossom!-Does it blossom yet, Minny," she added,
" though the hand that used to take care of and shelter it
is no more — Ah! Minny, had we but still that fostering
hand, we might hope to flourish: but, alas! alas!" and she
sighed deeply, "we are indeed deprived of a mother's
care; your uncle is truly kind, but he cannot protect us
from the lesser dangers which attend us in this life. 0
Minny, I already fear for you, and the more so because
you have no fear for yourself. You are no longer the
same child you once were,-the same modest, reserved,
and humble little girl,-the same gentle and affectionate
Minny!" and so saying, she burst into tears, and rested
her fair cheek against the side of the couch near which
she sat, and though I could not weep, I felt a degree of
anguish such as I had never before experienced, though
my painful feeling passed away too soon to be truly
beneficial to me.
P2




310                  ERMINA.
CHAPTER X.
The indisposition of Anna-Ermina's visit to the Aratoon family-.
Theirhouse and its neighbourhood-Her indifference to Mrs. Finchley, and Anna's gratitude-She remonstrates with Ermina on her
intended visit.
THE weather was now beginning to be excessively
hot, at least it appeared so to us; I, however, retained a
good state of health and spirits, but Anna was much affected by the heat. Her constitution, it now appeared,
had been considerably injured by close confinement at
Falmouth, and, perhaps, by anxiety of mind; but
although I saw her becoming more pale and languid
every day, I had no apprehensions for her, and attributed
what I saw merely to the effect of change of climate;
and as everybody about me was pale also, I had no uneasiness on my friend's account: indeed, my affection
for Anna had lost much of its freshness. She who had
been my only consolation in adversity was a restraint
upon me in prosperity, and her blameless conduct a
perpetual reproach.
It was in the middle of the month of March, that my
aunt one day proposed to us to accompany her to visit
her Armenian friends; but Anna was really too unwell
to be able to join our party, and my aunt, I believe, was
not sorry to admit her excuses. It was a burning day,
and the glare of the sun so great that we were obliged
to lower all the blinds of the coach.
We passed quite through that portion of Calcutta
which was occupied by the English, and at length entered the native town, where pursuing our way through
many narrow streets and clay huts, we at length arrived
at a more open space, of an irregular figure, on one side
of which was a pagoda of a large size, standing in a
court, and having its walls painted with flaming figures
of dancing demons. The house of the gentleman whom
we were going to visit occupied another. This house
was encircled on the three sides by a court enclosed




ERMINA.                   341
with walls of great height, which wholly concealed the
lower parts of the building. Over these walls appeared
the long and lofty branches of the bamboo-tree, and
under the wall was a black and fetid tank or puddle,
which must have been a serious nuisance to every house
in the neighbourhood.
One side of the house of Mr. Aratoon was open to a
lane or little street, of which it formed part, and there I
perceived several irregular windows and balconies,
where a person might sit and amuse himself with the
humours of those who were in the street below, and
even hear all that passed; altogether, nothing can be
conceived more melancholy than the whole appearance
of this great mansion, for it was evidently a very large
pile of building. We drove into the court, through a
wide gate-way, and then the whole extent of the chief
front of the house appeared to us. It was an irregular
building, of different heights in various parts, jetting forward in some places, and retiring in others; having here
a balcony, there a turret, and there a gallery, destroying
every appearance of order or plan in the building, and
forming, upon the whole, a figure not unlike that which
we may sometimes see on the surface of a china dish,
or the bottom of a saucer. When our carriage stopped
at the door, as no one came out to salute us, my aunt
alighted, and being followed by me, entered an immense
hall, where a variety of strange figures met my eye.
The hall itself was as irregular as every other visible
part of the house: at one end was a kind of dais or
throne, that is, one part of the flooring was considerably
raised from the rest, being covered with striped cotton
carpeting; and on this place of honour sat a circar or
shroff, weighing money which lay in heaps before him.
Two or three Chinese were jabbering and winking, with
their small eyes, in another corner; two half-caste
youths, most daintily accoutred in white nankeen, were
writing at a table at another end; and native men of
every description were busy, or pretending to be busy,
on every other side, coming and passing away through
various door-ways, and evidencing by their free and
careless manners that they were not quite under the
same awe as they appeared to be in the houses of the
English, where I had, hitherto, only seen persons of this
kind.
My aunt spoke to several persons before she could




342                  ERMINA.
learn whether her relation was at home: we were, however, at length conducted up a wide staircase into a room
above, which was the very counterpart of the hall, with
this difference, that the one was devoted to the master,
and the other to the lady of the family; the one being
scattered with money, desks, account-books, and papers;
and the other with women's works and garnitures; the
one being the resort of shroffs, clerks, and circars, and
the other of tailors, dhayes, ayahs, and children; but the
same apparent confusion prevailed in both apartments,
and women of various descriptions, some in petticoats of
silk, and others in pagammahs of the same, were seen
passing and repassing to and fro, as below.
It happened that none of the family were at home
but the old lady and some of the grandchildren, which
last went in and out with their dhayes and ayahs, being
dressed in thin muslin trousers and coats, without
shoes or stockings, and having nothing whatever to recommend them but their eyes, which were fine; but
their sickly complexions, and their total want of manners, destroyed every pretension to the charms of infancy.
The old lady looked ill, though she was become excessively corpulent. Hot as the day was, she was
wrapped in shawls and silks. She sat on a low sofa,
and had a hookah near it, but she did not appear to have
any occupation. She immediately entered into conversation with my aunt, but I paid little attention to what
passed, till 1 heard my own name mentioned, and an invitation given to me to come and spend some time with
her daughters; to which invitation my aunt gave no
decisive answer, saying that the application must be
made to her husband, whose niece I was. Before we
left the house we were served with chocolate and rich
cake, on a massive golden waiter, after which we returned home.
After this adventure, I remained at home for some
weeks, and things went on as usual, excepting that
Anna became decidedly more weak, and my uncle procured medical advice for her.
I often recollect this time, when my sweet young
friend lay like a broken lily, gradually losing her strength
and freshness. I often recollect, with the deepest anguish, my careless conduct towards her at that time,
and the efforts she made,-those efforts which were




ERMINA.                   343
evidently beyond her strength,-to instruct, to guide,
and to preserve me, the object of her tenderest affection.  Gradually, however, as her strength became
weaker, her attempts to teach me began to relax. We
were accustomed to translate French together, and I
have still her book in which she broke off in the midst
of a dialogue in Madame Bonne; but when she could no
longer sit at the table and write with me, she used to lie
on the couch and make me read to her, sometimes the
Bible and sometimes books of another kind. In my
little volume of Mrs. Teach'em  I can still trace the
mark of her pencil where I left off last.
She had a sweet voice in singing hymns, and she had
also taught me to sing them. I well remember the last
time I sang to her; it was by her own express desire;
and it was that sweet hymn of Addison's-' 0 God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home."
There was no need that all my occupations with my
lovely Anna should have ceased when they did: I was
not so soon to be parted from my lovely companion; a little time yet remained, a precious little interval, which, had I used it well, might have saved me
many an after pang. But my aunt had invited Miss Almeria Aratoon to spend some days with us, and she arrived precisely at this time, on which occasion I devoted
myself wholly to her, and struck up one of those violent
intimacies of which young ladies in their teens are generally so fond.
As to make any comparisons between Almeria and
Anna, the thing was out of the question; but Anna's
blessed conduct was always a reproach to me and made
me miserable, whereas in the example of Almeria I found
a kind of foil which set off my own superior good behaviour in a very agreeable point of view, as I chose to
think, not considering that what might be passed over
in one so very ill educated as she, was wholly inexcusable in myself.
However, I made no such reflections, but assimilated
myself to all I saw and heard in this young person, however degrading. It would be difficult, perhaps impossi-,
ble, to describe this girl to any one who has never been




344                   ERMINA.
out of Europe. A creature so artful, so corrupt, and so
full of the lowest information can scarcely be conceived
in a Christian country. Added to these defects, she was
wasteful in the extreme: at once haughty and familiar
with her inferiors, and full of high expectations respecting her future lot in life.
My aunt was pleased at observing my attachment to
her relation, and encouraged it to the utmost of her
power; and with this view she invited me and Almeria
to her side of the house, showed us her stores of rich
silks, muslin, shawls, and jewels, and made us both
some very superb presents. When not with my aunt,
we used to romp about the verandahs, gossip with the
ayahs, and sometimes take a turn to Calcutta, to visit
certain of Almeria's acquaintance, who were not much
better than herself. In the mean time, I saw very little
of Anna, and as she could neither follow me nor expostulate with me, my alienation from her became more
and more marked.
While things were in this state, my uncle was suddenly called up the country on some particular business, and it was expected would be absent some time.
He took a very affectionate leave of us; particularly so
(I thought) of Anna, of whom he was very fond, informing us, as he was going out of our room, that we might
make up a packet for Mrs. Finchley, having spoken
to a friend who was going to England, to convey it
for us.
Dear Anna, immediately on this permission, busied
herself as well as she was able, in seeing such things
prepared as she thought might be useful to her friends
at Falmouth: but I am sorry to say that I interested myself very slightly in this work, and a very few days after
my uncle was gone, left it all to her; for he was no
sooner clear of Calcutta than my aunt gave me leave to
visit Almeria. It was on occasion of this visit that my
rebellious spirit broke out without restraint towards
Anna, and it was then I showed how thoroughly I had
been spoiled by prosperity.
As my aunt never came to her room, and as she was
not able to leave it from excessive weakness, they never
met: it was therefore from me that she learned of my
intended visit, and it was not till the morning of the day
appointed for my short journey that I opened the subject
to her




ERMINA.                   345
"0, Minny! dear, dear Minny!" she exclaimed, raising
herself from the sofa, " don't go-if you love me, don't
go."
"0, but I must," I answered, " I have promised."
" As you value me," she said, " as you love me-as
you value the memory of your governess, of your
country-as you fear your God, don't go, my Minny.  I
entreat, I supplicate you-" and she burst into tears.
" But I must," I replied, " I have given my word."
"Never mind your promise," she answered.  "Say
you will wait till your uncle's return-say any thingsay I am  ill-say you can't leave me. Oh! Minny,
Minny, don't go."
" Pshaw!" I replied, "but I must" (for I had learned
to use many contemptuous expressions).
" Once again let me entreat you," said my precious
friend, taking my hand, " if you love the memory of
your early days-of those who took care of you in
babyhood-grant me but this one request-don't go,
dear Minny, at least till your uncle returns." I heard
Almeria call me, and broke from her without giving any
answer; and in a short time afterward I was on my
way to Mr. Aratoon's house.
CHAPTER XI.
Ermina persists in leaving Anna-Her visit to the Aratoons-The
society, conversation, and amusements there-Mr. Townley's unexpected return-Ermina returns home-Her alarm and remorse
on finding Anna so much worse.
I CAN hardly suppose but that my readers will have
lost all regard for me, before they have arrived at this
point of my history; and yet, perhaps, they may wish
to know what more I have to relate, if not for my sake,
for that of my lovely Anna. I must do myself the justice to say, that I was very unhappy when I got into
my own little carriage to proceed to the house of my
new friend; and even as we were going along, when I
looked on her as she sat in the place of the carriage
opposite to me-that place which had so often been ocP3




346                   ERMINA.
cupied by the sweet companion of my childhood, I
could not refrain from many comparisons by which
Almeria was no gainer.
I forget what passed during our drive, for I was not
myself: my heart was far away from where I really
was, and a thousand scenes of infancy were continually
presenting themselves to my mind, in all of which my
Anna acted some conspicuous part. We arrived at Mr.
Aratoon's just as the family were sitting down to dinner,
for the old gentleman chose to dine at an early hour,
and surely such a motley group as assembled round
this dinner-table, in a large shadowy back-room behind the hall, I had never before witnessed.  Here
were riches without elegance, magnificence without
taste, and profusion without order. Every dish was
spiced, seasoned, perfumed, and compounded in so
strange a way that I could relish nothing; and though
there were so many of us, conversation flagged in a
most extraordinary degree. After dinner all the family
dispersed, and Almeria with the sister next in age to
herself, whose name was Sacharissa, or something very
like it, withdrew me to a suite of rooms up-stairs, which
belonged to themselves, and which was terminated by a
little closet, where was a balcony, which hung over the
wall of the house into the bazar, or narrow street
below. This balcony was generally screened by blinds
or checks, which last are blinds curiously composed of
painted grass. I presently found that this closet was
the favourite apartment of these two sisters, and here
we lay down on low sofas, the two sisters having summoned their women to fan them, drive away the flies,
and perform other services of the same kind. Among
these women was one of superior dignity, who came
waddling into the closet, as she was exceedingly corpulent, and sitting herself down in the circle formed by
our couches, began to chew trawn, and roll it about in
her mouth like one perfectly at her ease. I was presently made to understand that this old lady was Almeria's
nurse, and a very great favourite of the family: hence
the state she took upon herself.
We, the younger individuals of the party, talked to
each other for some time, but my reader must excuse
my giving any sample of the conversation of my companions. At length Almeria, taking a punkah, or fan,
from the hand of one of her ayahs, tapped her nurse on




ERMINA.                  347
the back with it, saying, " Well, old woman, have you
nothing to say l tell us one of your stories, for the
amusement of the little lady."  The old lady gave
another roll to the beetle-nut that was in her mouth,
and then ejecting some of the juice on the pavement,
she began her history, and told us a long story, somewhat in the style, though far more gross than those
Arabian tales so well known in Europe.
As I understood but one-half of what she said, she
soon talked me to sleep, and when I awoke it was dusk,
and Almeria was waiting to lead me to the room belonging to her mother, where all the family were assembled.
There we found several strangers, and after drinking
coffee, the young people left the old ones to converse,
while we, being a motley assemblage of brothers, sisters, and neighbours, withdrew to amuse ourselves in
dancing, romping, and various sorts of frolics. The
day was finished by a heartless form of prayer, by
which I was led to discover that I was with a set of persons whose mode of faith differed very considerably
fropn that in which I had been brought up. I slept with
Almeria in her chamber, which was next the closet
above spoken of, and was kept awake for some hours
by the gossip which passed between her and the old
woman.
Of all gossip none can be worse than low Hindostannee gossip; and it appears to me that no young person
can be even comparatively free from corruption who is
exposed to hear the tittle-tattle of heathen servants.
We did not rise till late, and we spent much of our
morning in lounging and looking over the stores of pedlers who came with boxes to the house, and thus one
day after another passed with no variation, excepting
from an airing, till nearly a fortnight had expired, during
which time I had received only one little note from
Anna, written in such a manner as rather surprised me,
for the hand seemed strangely changed, the lines
crooked, and some words omitted; it however contained only a request that I would return soon-very,
very soon.
One afternoon, when, as I before said, I had been
about a fortnight with Almeria, the old nurse informed
us that there was to be a putulli naltch, or puppetshow, at the opposite house, that very evening.




348                  ERMINA.
" Oh!" said Almeria, "then we will go: Ermina has
never seen a putulli nantch, and go we will."
The nurse began to expostulate, but her hopeful child
bade her hold her tongue; and the next minute the
young lady ran out of the room, and did not return for
some time.
I heard no more of the nantch till we were withdrawn to our bedroom, and then, having dismissed the
ayahs, Almeria said to me, " Ermina, I have settled it
all. When they are all quiet, my brother Caratoon will
come and bring the steps, and we will get out by the
balcony, and go and see the nantch.   Look," said she,
calling me to the window, "the house is lighted up
already; and don't you hear the tum-tums, and the
music'f'
" Music!" I said, " do you call that music. It is the
most horrid noise I ever heard."-" Well, but," said she,
" you will go with me." I refused at first, but my refusal became weaker and weaker, and when Caratoon
came with his steps, which were those used by the
bearers to light and dress the lamps, I suffered myself
to be lifted down into the street, for the balcony was
low, or probably the ground had been raised on that side
of the building by the rubbish constantly thrown out
into the street. I was certainly frightened when I found
myself in an open street at this time of night; however, Almeria was presently with me, and her brother
leading the way, we were the next moment at the door
of the native house where were the lights, the crowd,
and the music.
We were received at the door by a man who seemed
half a European and half a Hindoo, and taken into a
hall of a most shabby appearance, where they were
playing off some frightful little puppets, with heads as
big as all the rest of their bodies, in a little stage which
was placed in one corner of the room.
The intense, heat of the apartment, the wild appearance of the spectators, the smell of cocoanut oil, garlic, and tobacco, together with the squeaking of the
man who played off the puppets, formed such a complication of disagreeables, that had my conscience been
very easy, I must have been excessively uncomfortable;
but as it was I was truly wretched, and after half an
hour, I begged, prayed, entreated, to be taken back, but
all in vain; for Caratoon seemed to be delighted with




ERMINA.                  349
my misery, and kept repeating in my ears-" Are you
frightened, Miss Ermina I Do you think the puppets
will run away with you!-No fear of that, I assure you."
Never did any thing appear so long, so dreadfully
long, as that frightful puppet-show.  I verily believe
that I never knew what misery was till that night. It
was never, I think, till then, in that apparently unpropitious scene, that all I had learned in my happy childhood seemed really to begin to work within me for my
good. The show was at length concluded, it was past
midnight; and Caratoon drove me almost to agony by
pretending that he did not know where the steps were,
although he had himself seen them stowed away very
carefully.
It was nearly one o'clock when I got to our chamber
again, and what with shame and terror, I could not sleep
till dawn of day, and when I did sleep, my imagination
was full of terrors, and I again beheld before me all the
serpents and horrible forms which had been represented
at the nantch.
I at length, however, fell into a heavy sleep, in which
even these horrors had disappeared, when I was suddenly awakened by Almeria, who said, " Ermina, your
uncle is below. Make haste, and get dressed."
"My uncle!" I exclaimed.  "What, returned so
soon V"
" Yes," she replied, " he was not obliged to go so far
as he first proposed."
" Is he very angry V" I asked.
" Angry!" she repeated, " what for V"
" For what we did last night," I answered.
"Why, what does he know of that V" she answered
-" For the world's sake don't speak of it to him, or to
my father and mother, but get up and get dressed."
" Is any thing thn he matter," I asked, " that my uncle
should come so early?"
" No, nothing, not much," she said, "only Anna is
worse, and she wants to see you."
"Worse!" I said, "myAnna worse!" and I burst into
an agony of grief. "Tell me, Almeria-tell me, is she
dying t"
" Dying!" repeated Almeria, " no, I hope not: come,
don't frighten yourself."
"Oh, my Anna! my sweet Anna! my own Anna!" I




350                  ERMINA.
exclaimed, and fell back on the bed, and for some moments lost my recollection.
They were obliged to call my uncle to me before I
could be brought to myself; but when I recovered my
recollection, and had had leisure to observe his countenance, I plainly saw that I had the worst to apprehend.
My clothes were, however, at length put on, and I
was put into the coach with my uncle, who had not one
word of comfort to give me; for indeed he seemed by
no means pleased with me, and once, indeed, asked
me, "How I could have thought of leaving my friend,
when she required my most tender care."
I could make no reply-I was self-condemned and
miserable. And I was then made to feel that penury,
with all its attendant inconveniences, was by no means
the greatest evil to which human nature is subject.
But what sufferings are intolerable excepting those
which are mingled with feelings of remorse.
CHAPTER XII.
Ermina terrified and distressed at the danger of her faithful Friend'Anna's delirium and death-Its effects on little Minny and those
who witnessed it-Conclusion.
OH! with what anguish and terror did I ascend the
stairs, to go to my Anna's room, when I entered the
house at Garden Reach. The first person I met in the
saloon above-stairs was Mrs. Palmerston, who, being at
that time in Calcutta, had, as I afterward found, been
in the habit of constantly attending on Anna during my
absence. I had been accustomed to consider Mrs. Palmerston as a frivolous character; but when I then saw
her drowned in tears, how did I love and respect her.
She took my hand when she met me, anld the i turned
again with me to Anna's room; indeed, I then wanted
some one to encourage me.
Anna was in the dressing-room, where we had so
often sat together. They had brought the sofa "on
which she lay into the middle of the room, and the physician was sitting by it, holding his patient's hand: several female servants were in other parts of the room.




ERMINA.                   351
Mrs. Palmerston drew me gently forward, for I became more and more terrified as I looked on this solemn
scene; yet, prepared as I was for the worst, when I beheld my Anna pale as death, and lying without motion
on her back, I believed she was already dead.
" Oh, my Anna!" I cried, and was pressing forward
to kiss her sweet pale face. " Oh, my Anna-will you
never open your eyes again!-never speak to me more!"
But Mrs. Palmerston held me back. " Don't disturb her,"
she said, " we think that she is asleep."
My uncle had entered the room, and stood by the
physician. He looked sternly sorrowful, and seemed
anxious not to display his feelings.
Thus a few minutes passed. At length my lovely
Anna moved, and opening her eyes, said, " Minny,-is
Minny come." and she looked up at Mrs. Palmerston.
" Here I am, my Anna-my sweet lovely Anna-here
I am," I said.
She took no notice of me, but said again, " Will not
Minny come V"
"I am here, dear Anna," I said, pressing forward and
sobbing.
She again repeated, " Little Minny-Ah, little Minny!
-will she never, never come?"
I could not bear this. " I am here, Anna dear, I am
here," I exclaimed in an agony. " Place yourself in a
light where she can see you best," said my uncle.
" She has known no one for some hours," remarked
the physician. " She is too far gone; don't attempt to
rouse her."
" What!" I exclaimed, " will she never, never know
me again! Oh, my Anna!"
"Yesterday," said the physician, " she knew us all."
"And last night, at twelve o'clock, she knew me,"
said one of the black women, "and asked for Miss
Minny."
" At twelve o'clock last night!" I repeated; and my
reader may guess my thoughts.  Our attention was
then suAlenly Called to the lovely creature herself, for
she began to start, and slight convulsions to agitate her
features. I had never before witnessed convulsions,
and was inexpressibly terrified. For a few seconds, she
seemed to be considerably agitated, and then again
closed her eyes and seemed to be sleeping.
" Surely," said my uncle, drawing a little from  the




352                  ERMINA.
couch, " it was very strange that they should have allowed this disorder to gain such ground, without sending for me, or at least for Minny."
" You know, sir," replied the physician, " how rapidly
diseases advance in this country. I had little fear for
her till yesterday morning."
We were at this instant again drawn to the couch,
where my beloved Anna seemed tobe in a dreadful agony,
every limb being convulsed. These convulsions, however, soon ceased, and she seemed to wish to be raised,
opened her eyes, and, I thought, looked very like her
former self.
Mrs. Palmerston was supporting her. She looked up
to her, and knew her. " You are very kind, ma'am," she
said, " very, very kind, and my uncle too, thank him for
all his kindness. When I am gone, you will be kind to
poor Minny; and don't be uneasy about me-I am very
happy. I am going to my Saviour. Yes, my Saviour:"
and her countenance changed its expression. A kind
of glory, as I fancied, was suddenly shed over it. She
looked up, as it were, to the very ceiling, and, joining
her hands, "I come, my Saviour, I come," she exclaimed; then sinking back on her pillow, her eyes
closed, and in a few minutes she breathed her last, leaving me most completely miserable, and utterly incapable
of receiving any thing like comfort.
Thus terminated the earthly career of this most
lovely young person; and from that period I felt the
sentence of death passed on all earthly possessions
and honours: an impression which, by the divine grace,
has never worn away, though at some periods I have
felt myself less affected with a feeling of this kind than
at others.
I have reason, indeed, to think that the death of my
lovely Anna was not only blessed to me, but to my
uncle and Mrs. Palmerston.
My aunt, who had fled to her house in Calcutta, the
moment that she was apprized of her being seriously ill,
did not return till after all was over, and never evidenced any sorrow: but my uncle was a sincere mourner,
and has often since been heard to say, that his first serious impressions of religion were received by the pillow
of my dying friend, and the sweet companion of my
childhood.
My aunt did not survive the lovely Anna more than




ERMINA.                   353
two years; and after her death, I lived alone with my
uncle, and found increasing pleasure and comfort in his
society.
I was married early in life, but still lived with my
dear uncle, and he seemed to take as much delight in
my children as if they had been his own. His death
did not take place till an advanced age, and it was then
most blessed.
Neither my uncle nor I ever again visited our friends
in England, but we frequently heard of and from them,
and every year sent them of our abundance.
Many years are now past since my Anna was in
glory; but the recollection of her is now as fresh in
my mind as in that sad day when I was first parted from
her; and to this moment I cannot recollect my conduct
towards her without a degree of anguish which time
can never soften.
From  my example, my gentle reader, be persuaded
not to desire unmixed prosperity, remembering thisthat adversity is the shining time of the Christian, and
the period most commonly chosen for the purposes of
divine mercy.
" Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning Providence,
He hides a smiling face."
THE END OF ERMINA.








EMAN CIPATION.








EMANCIPATION.
THE late events which have agitated' the minds of all
the inhabitants of this once happy island have led me
to so accurate a retrospect of my life, as, I trust, has
not only had a good effect on my own mind, but is of
such a nature, that, if put into a legible form, it might, I
think, be useful to others. With this view, I have suddenly become an author; having resolved to give a
faithful account of the leading events of my family history; rather choosing to incur the risk of being recognised i, my own little circle, than to deprive the world
of what I consider to be a very valuable and important
lesson.
It cannot, under these circumstances, be supposed
that I should choose to give my real name: I will therefore call myself James Penson.
My father was the cultivator of a small farm; part of
which he held under a nobleman who resided in the
adjoining parish, the other part having long been in our
family. The tenement which my father occupied was
called The Woodhouse, from its situation within the
precincts of a wood belonging to his noble landlord;
and the gardens and fields behind the house had been
redeemed from the forest within the memory of my
grandfather. The approach to the front of the house
was through an avenue in the woods; and, from the
contiguity of this front to the trees, it seldom saw the
sun, excepting on a fine day in winter, when the woods
were leafless.
Mine were as worthy parents as ever children were
blessed with. They were simple people, knew little of
the ways of the world, and had no ambition; having
scarcely any other object in life, I verily believe, but to




B58               EMANCIPATION.
live inoffensively in the present world, and to be with
their Saviour in that which is to come. Their gains
were little, but their wants were less: hence they were
rich.-They lived in comfort and in plenty; and they
made it a rule never to send a poor person empty from
their door. Begging in those days (for I am speaking
of fifty or sixty years ago) had not become the system
which it now is; and there was not then the risk
of actually injuring society, and encouraging vice,
which there now would be, in harbouring and feeding
every wanderer who chooses to solicit our hospitality.
My parents had only two children; viz. myself and
my brother Robert. There is only one year's difference
in our age, and I am the elder.
I lived at home till I was ten years of age; and those
were happy years. 0 how have I, in after-life, looked
back with anguish and regret on those pure and innocent days-comparatively pure and innocent-when we
followed our father to the fields in the morning, and
finished the evening in reading the Word of God, verse
by verse, to our mother! How dear, then, was Robert
to me! how precious was he in my sight! How did I
love my parents! What a number of innocent pleasures
we then enjoyed! Who was the first to tell our mother
when the chickens were beginning to break the shell,
or when another lamb had appeared in the field-who
knew where the first violets bloomed, or the first roses
unfolded themselves-but Robert and myself   But,
when I was ten years of age, a sad change for me took
place.
My father's elder brother, who was a surgeon and
apothecary in a small town in Devonshire, came to see
us; and, having been married many years without hope
of children, he persuaded my parents to permit him to
adopt me; the good people consented, not knowing the
character of the man to whom  they were intrusting
me: and thus I bade adieu, at once, to my home, my
brother, and my happiness.
I still fancy I can see my Robert, in his Sunday coat
of russet gray, rubbing the tears from his eyes, as he
stood in the street of our village; and still hear the
solemnly-pronounced blessing of my father, when he
lifted me to the top of the heavy coach, by the side of'my uncle.
It had been promised that I should return to the




EMANCIPATION.               359
Woodhouse for a few weeks during the next summer.
But that summer, and many other summers, winters,
springs, and autumns, passed away, before I saw my
native place again. Our village is at least two hundred
miles from what was my uncle's residence, and it was
no easy matter for a child to undertake such a journey;
therefore, during the first few years of my residence in
Devonshire, my visit to my home was put off from
season to season; and, after a while, I became so useful
to my uncle in his business that he could not part with
me: and thus, from the age of ten to twenty-four, I
never saw my parents.
In the mean time, I was advancing in the way that I
suppose my uncle intended I should go: that is, if I may
judge of the end desired by the means which were used
to obtain it. My uncle lived in a small town, where he
was the only surgeon; and being also an apothecary,
he kept a shop; and while he was busy in his shop, or
with his patients, his wife was continually engaged in
keeping up his interest, as she would have it thought,
by paying and receiving visits. As to religion, I do not
suppose that my uncle and aunt ever troubled themselves about it; but a rule or motive of action was soon
given to me, which was quite independent of all pious
considerations.
I was soon given to understand, that if I did not
please the relations with whom I resided, I should be
the worse for it; and, accordingly, I soon learned to
accommodate myself to their wishes, at least in their
presence; and I managed matters so well that I alwrays retained my uncle's favour.
I was kept in my uncle's shop till I was twenty-one;
receiving, in the mean time, occasional lessons in Latin,
and other branches of polite education, from a schoolmaster residing in the town.
I have said that my uncle never concerned himself
about religion. But he was a fierce politician, and talked
of the tyranny of our governors, of the rights of man,
and the privileges of women; of the cruelty of parents,
and the pride of the great. He used to speak of the
Almighty as of a kind of abstract Being, who, having
made a race of weak creatures, was inclined to wink at
their errors, and was ever ready to pardon their offences.
He always smiled, if any one spoke of the influences
of the Spirit in his presence; and it was well if he did




360               EMANCIPATION.
not add some profane remark to this exhibition of contempt. He spoke of our Lord Jesus Christ as a fine
example of human excellence, a dignified lawgiver,
and a wise man; not considering, that if Jesus Christ
was not really what he professed to be, viz. a God incarnate, he must have exercised the most awful blasphemy of which mortal man was ever guilty. And,
finally, he spoke of my father as being a good, honest,
simple man, who understood nothing of life or of human
nature; directing me, at the same time, not to alarm
his prejudices by introducing my own or his opinions
in any of my letters.
When I had entered my twenty-first year, I was sent
to London to walk the hospitals, and remained there for
two or three years; being received for a time as an
apothecary in one of the public infirmaries.
I was confirmed in all the false principles with which
my uncle had inspired me, by the society into which I
fell in town: for I attended a tavern every evening,
where a set of ignorant young men used to meet, to sup,
and discuss, over a bowl of punch, the laws of our
country, the conduct of our rulers, and the defects of
our church establishment. I was a leading speaker in
these parties; and it was my favourite maxim, that all
compulsion was to be avoided, as far as possible, in our
dealings with our fellow-creatures; that universal toleration ought to be allowed to every religion; and that
every man's house was his castle, and no one had any
right to interfere with him within its walls.
I am ashamed to think what blasphemous nonsense I
used to spout on these subjects; as if any society could
hold together without the links or bonds of union that a
regular government affords. It might as well be supposed that a human being might walk about, and be a
perfect man, and yet be destitute of the back-bone, as to
imagine that society could exist without laws.-But to
proceed with my narrative, and to let my principles speak
for themselves.
I had scarcely finished my time in town when I was
called back in haste into Devonshire, and found my uncle
very ill, indeed, in a dying state. I also found that a
revolution had taken place in the family during my absence, which did not please me by any means. My aunt
had introduced a young man into the shop, who seemed
to have already become my lord-paramount, and was




EMANCIPATION.               361
strongly upheld by her interest. My poor uncle was so
ill, when I arrived, that he did not know me; and he
died within two days; so that I suffered not a little uneasiness through the fear that he might, perhaps, have
died without a will: for I was no longer in doubt that I
had a very powerful rival in my aunt's esteem.
Immediately after the funeral, a will was, however,
produced; and I found, to my great joy, that my uncle
had left me a thousand pounds, with all his books, clothes,
and surgical instruments; and that he had bequeathed,
also, two hundred pounds to my father; and as much
to my brother. I staid with my aunt till I had packed
up and sent off my possessions, and secured my inheritance. I then coldly wished her adieu, and turned my
views towards my home.
I had written one letter to inform my father of my
uncle's death, and had despatched a second, to give an
account of our legacies; a third had followed, to inform
the family of my speedy return; though I could not
name the day.
Since I had left my home, my once beloved home,
such a revolution had taken place in my feelings, that I
entirely ceased to look forward with delight to a reunion with my family. I had been in London, at the
theatre, at the opera, at clubs, and in the gallery of the
House of Commons; I had heard parliamentary debates,
and could reason and talk, and was exceedingly clever
and genteel in my own opinion; and I really had contracted a contempt for my father, and mother, and
Robert; for I thought their mode of living utterly barbarous, while they sat in a kitchen with casement windows,
and my mother wore a plaited mob-cap and a square
muslin handkerchief pinned over her neck. My father,
too, wore his own hair combed over his forehead, and a
gray suit, all of one colour, even on a Sunday. As to
Robert, I could not conceive what he might be like by
this time; I remembered that he had brown hair when
a boy, and that his eyes appeared to speak very often
when his better judgment admonished him that it was
needful to keep his lips closed. But I made up my mind
that I should be ashamed of him, and I resolved to make
my visit as short as decency would permit; though
whither next to bend my steps I had not decided.
It was late on a Sunday evening in autumn, being
precisely three weeks after my uncle's death, when I
VoL. V.-Q




362                 EMANCIPATION.
arrived at our village; and having deposited my luggage
in a safe place, I set out on foot for the Woodhouse~
which is about a mile from the village.
A very strange sort of feeling took possession of me
as I advanced, and saw by moonlight (for, like most
heroes of romance, I was favoured on this occasion of
my return to my father's house with the light of the full
moon) the various objects imprinted on my memory
from early childhood; many of which, together with the
circumstances connected with them, had glided away
from my mind many years before.
At length, a light from the kitchen of the Woodhouse
began to shine upon my path, and presently I discerned
the outline of the two gable-ends of the old-fashioned
mansion marked against the pale cold light of the sky,
together with the high, clustered chimneys.
I advanced with quicker steps: I hastened to the door,
and knocked. I heard a voice within-" Surely it cannot be dear James!"-and in the next minute I found
myself in the arms of my relations. It was not till
after various salutations had taken place in the little
vestibule, or entrance of the house, and I had been led
into the large kitchen, that I had leisure to look about
and see what sort of people I had for my relations. It
was much to the advantage of their appearance that
they were all dressed in new mourning; the decency
and comeliness of which are generally allowed. Notwithstanding this propitious circumstance, I had not sat
five minutes without setting my father down in my own
mind as a good sort of harmless but ignorant old man;
and my mother as a specimen of a comfortable old
woman, such as one should like to have about one when
on a sick bed.
As to Robert, I was rather more at a loss to decide
respecting him.  He was not, indeed, a fashionable
blade, such as I then thought myself, but his countenance beamed with-intelligence and benevolence. There
was no rustic sheepishness in his manner towards his
town-bred brother; and when he spoke it was with
correctness, and with little, if any, of the accent of a
clown. He did not affect to be any thing but what he
was, namely, an agriculturist. Nevertheless, he seemed
to have conceived a correct view of what is proper, and
even graceful in that character; and I found it was




EMANCIPATION.              363
impossible to withhold respect from a person of his
attractions.,In addition to my own relations, there were three
persons who had been evidently sitting with the family
before I had entered. Two of these were servants, a
man and a woman; but the third was as lovely a young
woman, of about eighteen, as I had'ever beheld. She
was soon introduced to me as a distant relation, an
orphan, living with my mother. They called her Ellen,
and I really was so much pleased with her appearance,
that when I discovered, which I soon did, that she was
a favourite of my brother's, I was displeased, and actually indulged the intention of attempting to disturb the
good understanding which I perceived to exist between
the young people. My mother busied herself to spread
a table for me without loss of time; and as I had travelled all the last night, I was not sorry to get a good supper and go to bed.
A good night's rest quite removed my fatigue. My
portmanteau had been brought from the inn, and having
rendered myself as much of a beau as clean linen, powder, and pomatum  could make me, I descended the
stairs, and the parlour-door being open, I found that a
fire had been lighted in it out of compliment to me;
while my breakfast was there arranged on a small round
table, with all the delightful appendages of thick cream,
fresh butter, and white bread. The kettle was hissing
by the fire. My first motion was to look for the bellrope, but seeing no such specimen of refinement, I applied myself to a hand-bell which lay on the table, and
rang authoritatively. The bell was immediately answered by Ellen, who entered in a morning-dress, the
very pattern of rural neatness, and, begging me to excuse my mother, who had a little job to finish in her
dairy, she sat down to make my tea.
It occurred to me that this was a most propitious occasion for showing off my superior breeding; and I
scarcely know on what impertinences I might have
ventured, had not the determined gravity and distant
politeness of my companion thrown me into such confusion, that I scalded my throat, and was very near cutting my hand in attempting to help myself to a slice
from the white loaf. The arrival of my mother, in a
coloured apron, relieved my embarrassm ent, and restored
Q2




364              EMANCIPATION.
my self-confidence; and when Ellen left the room,
which she soon did, we had a long conversation, during
which she opened to me many of the family arrangements and plans.
She told me that my brother and Ellen were engaged
to each other, and were to be married as soon as the
deep mourning for my uncle was laid aside, and that
they were to continue to live with them; and she seemed
to have great delight in the anticipation of this arrangement. She also added, that my father had a plan for
me, which she thought very good, namely, that I should,
if it could be managed, enter into partnership with old
Mr. Southcott, the surgeon of the village; and thus,
when he dropped off, as he was getting very infirm, I
might fall into his place.
"My father," I answered, "will, I suppose, give me
leave to judge in these matters for myself. You know,
mother, that you and my father have always lived in
this wood, and you can know nothing of life; but, at
any rate, there can be no doubt that, in matters relative
to my ownf profession, I must know better than people
of your description."
"True, James, true, my dear," said my mother, colouring, and looking alarmed at the great man her son:
" but I only gave you a hint, my dear, I meant no offence.
To be sure you must know best." And the poor woman looked this way and that way, as if she thought
that she had taken a liberty by sitting down in my presence.
I threw one leg over the other, and, looking up to
the chimney-piece, began to make comments on a piece
of embroidery in worsted, which had hung there in a
frame ever since I could remember. " Mother," I said,
"what an abominable smoky thing that is over the fireplace: why don't you make a bonfire of it "''
She replied, meekly, "It was my mother's work,
James."
" Upon my word, the old lady was a second Arachne,"
I replied.
" Arachne!" she repeated, looking bewildered, " who
is that, James?"
" One who adorns many houses, mother," I replied,
"with her fine handiworks."
" Some London lady, I suppose," she answered:
"but when Robert is married we are to have the par



EMANCIPATION.               365
lour painted, and new curtains, and then Ellen's map
of the world is to be put up in the gold frame, instead
of that piece."
" Indeed," I said, " you will be prodigiously fine;" and,
hearing my brother's voice, I sauntered to the window,
whistling an opera tune, and saw him and my father
come up to the house in dresses suited to their occupations, though perfectly neat. I turned to look to the
door as they entered; and presently they came forward
and shook me heartily by the hand; after which Robert
kissed our mother, and asked kindly after her health.
I might have taken a lesson from my brother respecting my conduct to our mother; but I chose to despise
him, and we never learn from those we despise.
I had no conversation with my father respecting my
arrangements, until the evening, when we were all met
round the fire. The plan at which my mother had hinted
was then proposed to me; namely, that I should endeavour to be admitted into partnership with old Mr. Southcott. 
"What sort of a practitioner may this same Mr.
Southcott be V" I asked: " one of the old school, I have
no doubt-ignorant, probably very ignorant-a mere
quack."
My mother replied, that Mr. Southcott gave general
satisfaction in the country, and obtained a handsome
maintenance.
" Well," I said, " all that may be; and I thank you for
your hints," I added, looking at one and the other of
my parents; " but you must allow me to judge for myself. I have seen a good deal of the world; and at my
time of life-"
I was proceeding, when Robert took me up, saying,
"At your time of life, and mine too, James, persons are
very apt to think themselves wiser than their parents.
We have not even had experience enough to know our
own folly."
I was offended, and did not endeavour to hide my displeasure. I measured Robert with my eye; and looked
him for a minute in the face with as much contempt as I
could summon into my countenance.
Our mother noticed my manner, and said, "James,
dear, don't be offended at Robert; when you know him
better you will find that he is the kindest, best creature
in the world; but you do not understand him yet. You




366              EMANCIPATION.
have lived with a very different kind of people: you
have had a superior education. Robert does not understand the world." And then turning to her younger son,
"Don't smile, Robert," she added, "you vex James;
and you know that he is a stranger, and we must make
much of him."
"I beg your pardon, James, if I have offended you,"
said my brother, offering me his hand, which motion I,
however, affected not to see; and thus the conversation
respecting my plans dropped for that time, and the discourse was turned into another channel.
During that evening, my father, who was as simple
and good a man as ever existed, continued to give me
such advice as he thought for my good; it not having
yet entered his head that he had a son who was determined to abide by his own opinions, and to act as he
thought right in his own eyes, without any reference to
divine or paternal authority. The subjects which he
pressed tupon me were chiefly religious and- moral: I
forget precisely what they were, as I paid little attention to them; but this I recollect, that I gave him
maxim for maxim, and opinion for opinion, till I had
fairly carried him into the land of confusion; for, without meaning to speak disrespectfully of my parents,
which God forbid, the fact is that they were not persons of superior abilities, though possessing that sort of
sense which, when united with amiable tempers and
true piety, fits persons above all others to get on comfortably through life.
While these things were passing between my father
and me, Robert sat looking on the pavement: and I saw
his colour change several times; but he did not speak till
I made some remark respecting religion which did not
please him; on which, looking up, he said, " James, do
you remember our infant days, when we used to climb
up the old yew-tree on a Sunday evening, to read the
Pilgrim's Progress 1 those were happy times, James. I
was very solitary in the yew-tree when you were gone.
Religion in those days was very sweet to us. I can remember that you were then my teacher, and-"
" And now, I suppose, you would wish to become my
teacher V" I said, interrupting him. "But, understand
me, Robert, I am now for liberty of conscience, and
emancipation from spiritual authority. I have no idea
of one man. dictating to another in matters of this kind.




EMANCIPATION.               367
and therefore I trust that you will not think of interfering with me."
"Please to explain yourself," said Robert.
"I do not see what explanation is necessary," I replied; " what I have said is very simple: all I would
desire is, that men should exercise the same liberality
one with another that God exercises towards us all.
He created us with various intellectual endowments,
and reasoning faculties; and with different innocent and
pleasurable feelings; and he has placed us in a world
where we filnd a variety of circumstances to gratify
those feelings, but he exercises no further influence
over us; he leaves us to judge and act for ourselves;
and to suffer or to be happy, in consequence of our own
evil or good conduct."
"According to your plan, then," replied my brother,
smiling, "he ought to have turned us out of his hands
full-grown; and not to have placed us, during the first
years of our lives, in such a situation of weakness as to
make us dependent on the mercy of others; and hence
to become, in the natural course of things, subservient
and subjected to parents, who, after having had the
trouble of rearing us, think they have a right to counsel and influence us through life?  And, really," he
added, smiling still more decidedly, "Providence has
made a great mistake by compelling us, according to
the laws of nature, to enter life in a state of such entire helplessness: for to this cause we may attribute all
the tyranny which exists in the world; for we find, from
the notes of our old Bible, that, from the patriarchal
government, arose the monarchical first; and then from
this all other regular governments had their origin;
moreover, from the necessities of man in his infancy,
also proceed the dependence of the wife upon her husband, and many other systems of tyranny of the same
kind; with all the various ties and clogs of domestic
life; from all of which we might have been exempted,
had we been introduced into the world full-grown, and
entirely independent of each other."
"Dear Robert," said my mother, "how  you talk!
Did ever any one hear of a person being full-grown
when he was born   How can you go on so; and presume to find fault with Providence V"
"s 0! Mrs. Penson," said Ellen, "you do not understand Robert; he is only joking. I dare say Mr. James




368                EMANCIPATION.
understands him." And she then addressed me for the
first time since our meeting at breakfast, saying, "You
must not suppose, Mr. James, that your brother is ignorant, though he has always lived in the country;
there is often a great deal of time for people to read, and
think too, when they live in the country."
I found that I was likely to have two, instead of one,
against me, whenever I attacked Robert; and that my
brother was not quite so weak an adversary as I expected: I therefore closed the argument, by saying,
that I should depart from my own principles if I did
not allow my brother to enjoy his opinions as freely as
I did mine; adding, that I considered emancipation from
all prejudices to be a state of things greatly to be
wished: and, thus speaking, I took up my candle, and
went to my bed-room; resolving to get out of the house,
and into a settled situation, as soon as I could.
I have now said enough to show my reader what he
may expect of me; and shall, accordingly, pass over
tie events of the three succeeding years as succinctly
as possible.
Notwithstanding my father's advice, I did call upon
Mr. Southcott; and actually did contrive, with the consideration of a few hundreds, to persuade him to take
me as a partner; and, more than that, within two years
I married his niece Eliza; and entered, by his death,
into full possession of his business, his new brick house
with two bow-windows, his garden, his fish-pond, his
paddock, his old horse, and his cow; with a quantity
of ready money, in which sum was contained the premium 1 had given for the partnership. But, before I
had the honour of leading Miss Eliza to the altar, Ellen
had. become the wife of Robert, and the young pair had
fixed their residence with their parents at the Woodhouse; a scheme which, in this particular, answered to
the extent of their wishes.
And now my reader may picture me to himself, a
smart young surgeon; not indeed, perhaps, of the first
style, but quite sufficiently polished for my line of practice; extremely well pleased with myself; and, as times
then were, by no means deficient in the knowledge of
my profession; with my smart house; a wife who was
far less disagreeable to me than might have been expected, when it is considered that I sought her only from
interested motives; and a sufficient income to enable




EMANCIPATION.               369
me to live with comfort, and lay a little by. What
more did I want to render me a happy man, it may be
asked; and it may also be answered, 1 wanted humility;
and, in wanting that, I wanted every thing: because
humility is the only substantial basis on which happiness can be reared; for in wanting humility, as it concerns our spiritual affairs, we must ever remain ignorant
of our need of a Saviour; and in wanting it in our temporal affairs, we must be ever going wrong, and heaping
up stores for the future of regret and sorrow.
I am about to speak of my wife as she was, and as
she would now speak of her former self, without the
fear of incurring the smallest displeasure; for I trust
that she is now, and has been for some years, a totally
changed character.
She was young when I married her; and, being an
orphan, she had been brought up at an ordinary school.
She was handsome,and had acquired a taste for company,
but was not a bad housewife; and, as I was much from
home, provided I found a good meal, and my house neat,
on my return, and discovered that my bills at Christmas
were not larger than I had expected, I was very well
satisfied; though, even during the first year of my marriage, my father hinted to me that there were some
things in my wife's conduct which it might be well to
correct. " Your wife, my dear James," my father said
to me, one day, " is young, and you are a great deal
from home: her dress is remarked as being too much
in the fashion-somewhat out of the common way; and,
as your family are known to be plain sort of people, it
is not thought consistent. Perhaps a kind word from you
might set this matter right;" and he was adding more,
when I interrupted him, by saying, " As long as my wife
does not do any thing actually immoral, father, I shall
not interfere with her. If every person, in unimportant
matters, were to be subservient to the will of another,
what a miserable condition on earth would ours be rendered! I am a respecter of the rights of women, as
well as those of men.  The husband and wife bind
themselves together in society for mutual convenience.
The man takes his part, the woman hers; the woman
manages matters in her sphere, the man in his. There
is no need of interference on either side, so long as they
respect each other's privileges. The shape and form
of my wife's bonnets do not affect my comfort; she may
Q3




370               EMANCIPATION.
fashion them as she pleases. In these matters I am for
liberty of conscience."
"Your comfort, James," replied my father, "is not
what we are talking of, but your respectability. If
your wife is not prudent in such matters, you will be
blamed. A man either derives shame or honour from
his wife's appearance. He therefore cannot be so independent of her as you pretend."
" Your ideas, let me tell you, sir," I replied, " are quite
old-fashioned-obsolete-out of date. Permit me to
explain to you the change of views which has taken
place since your juvenile days. The march of intellect,
during the last thirty years, has been more rapid than
for hundreds of years before. The present generation,
instead of blindly following the past, has been brought
to perceive the fallacy of many opinions which were
formerly held as infallible. For instance: that system
of'domestic tyranny which has pervaded all ranks and
degrees of men until the present time, is now exploded,
and a new code of morals is introduced-one more suited
to the weakness of our nature, and to the laws of the
Divine government-one, in fact, more rational, and
better suited to the amiable nature of man."
My father looked~ perplexed as I proceeded, and I was
wicked enough to be amused by his very apparent confusion of manner. I was enjoying my triumph, standing
behind my counter, and seemingly more engaged with
my phials and drugs than with the argument, when a
champion, with whom I never could grapple so successfully as with my father, entered the shop. This was
my brother; who had scarcely appeared, when my
father appealed to him, asking him if he had not heard
some very unpleasant remarks made on the dress of his
sister-in-law on the Sunday before, as he was coming
out of church. " And I was just saying to James, Robert," continued the good old gentleman, "that, as his
wife is so young, a kind word from him might be advantageous: not that I would make mischief, for the world,
between man and wife; but, as James is five or six
years older than Eliza, he might, you know, just give a
gentle hint, and set things all right at once; for, after
all, there is no great sin in these fine fashions; only,
you know, people will talk."
Robert smiled, and shrugged up his shoulders, hinting that it would never do for him to.interfere between




EMANCIPATION.                371
his brother and his wife; and was proceeding to other
matters, when I insisted on his hearing what I had to
say.
"Robert," I said; " it would save a vast many contentions, in future, if my father could be made to understand my way of thinking; and could learn not to bring
my actions to the standard of his own opinions; which,
as I just now said, are obsolete and out of date. The
progress of intellect," I continued, with much pomposity,
"has, it is very certain, proceeded with increased velocity from age to age, in proportion as the shadows of
ignorance and darkness have withdrawn. This progress
has, no doubt, been precipitated, to an almost incalculable degree, by the art of printing, and the consequent
general diffusion of learning." Here I paused, to take
breath, and, indeed, to consider what I was going to say,
for I began to feel myself somewhat bewildered; and
Robert was so provoking as not to attempt any sort of
interruption, which, of whatever description, ^would
probably have relieved me considerably, and set me off
again with renewed velocity. But he was mischievously
silent, and stood in an attitude of mute and respectful
attention, as if bowing to my superior genius. I was
therefore obliged to proceed; and added, " In shortin short, owing to this rapid march of intellect," and
there I hesitated again, for I did not like the expressive
smile which rested on Robert's countenance; " in short
we consider that-that many things which were once
thought right are now wrong, and vice versa."
"And what was once thought wrong is now right,"
added Robert: "is that what you mean by vice versd?"
"Vice! vice!" said my father, getting quite warm:
" you may well talk of vice and wickedness; too much
learning, I am sure, has made you mad, James. I fear
you don't deal in such a drug as common sense in your
shop, boy, or I should turn doctor myself, and prescribe
a few grains for your own use;" and, so saying, he
walked out of the door, sighing heavily, as he-stepped
into the street.
" There now," said Robert, with displeasure, " you
have made our father unhappy with your abominable
nonsense. Pray, is it among your new discoveries that
it is a good and right thing to make a gray-headed
parent weep, for I saw the tears in his eyes? but you
cannot have taken leave of your senses altogether.




372               EMANCIPATION.
James. What do you mean by all this nonsense. you
have some meaning, I suppose?"
I became angry in my turn, and spoke roughly to my
brother; but we were both more calm presently; and,
as I was just stepping out to visit a patient who resided
about half a mile in the country, we walked together,
and I then tried to make him understand what I meant.
I first began by asking him if he thought that a custom
or principle must be good because it was ancient 1
He replied, " Certainly not; otherwise the customs
and habits instituted before the Flood must have been
the best, because they were the first established on
earth."
I must remark in this place, that almost all my
brother's learning is derived from Scripture.
" You grant, then," I answered, "that old customs
may be bad, and old received principles may be false V"
Neither customs nor principles are necessarily good
because they are old," replied Robert; " neither are
they necessarily bad for that reason."
"True," I replied; " I am willing to argue fairly."
"But is it not probable," I continued, "that, as science and literature advance, many things may hereafter
appear right to us which now seem wrong, and the
contrary 1"
" I allow that every thing is capable of improvement,
in theory, and in practice too," replied Robert, " excepting religion and morality. These, indeed, may, and we
trust will, be better attended to in practice as knowledge increases, but their theory cannot be amended.
We can have no new lights on these subjects beyond
what the Bible can supply; and our fathers had the Gospel; and the moral law was declared ages past, and will
continue in its perfection for ever. Therefore, I deny
what you assert, that the opinion of religious persons
can ever change respecting right and wrong."
" Surely," I replied, " the same things may be seen
in a different point of view, by an enlightened and an
ignorant person."
" Not simple matters of morality, and right and
wrong," replied my brother. " In these things the conscience is an unerring guide. Every man is more or
less aware when he is doing wrong. Else why have
even the smallest children recourse to concealment
when they meditate an immoral act?"




EMANCIPATION.               373
"The fear of shame or punishment," I answered, " is
what induces this deceit or concealment, which we see
in all children, when they seek to do what they think
will not please their parents. And now I am come to
the point at which I was aiming. Those persons who
have received the new and improved light of which I
am speaking would wish to see a more easy and charitable discipline established in the place of those severe
laws by which offences are multiplied, and occasions of
guilt are created."
" Really, James," replied Robert, " you must explain
yourself further before I can understand you."
" For instance: let us first speak of our religious establishment as it exists in this country," 1 answered.
" Why should it be a sin to preach without a gown and
cassock 1 or to pray extempore, instead of using a prescribed form?"
"I donot know that it is a sin," replied Robert.
"It is so far a sin that those persons who do not conform to these rules are excluded from many offices in
church and state," I replied.
" For the same reason," replied Robert, " that you
would refuse to take a partner or apprentice in your
profession who disapproved of your mode of practice."
"1  don't say that I should refuse any partner or apprentice on that account," I answered; for I was determined to uphold my sentiments through thick and thin.
Robert smiled.
Nothing used to provoke me, at that time, so much
as the playful way of my brother, though there was not
the least appearance of sarcasm in his manner, or, I
verily believe, in his mind. And I asked him what
amused him so much.
" I was thinking," he answered, " what a plight the
poor patients would soon be reduced to, when the doctor and his apprentice chose to think and act upon different principles."
"Robert," I said, " surely you can never be serious V"
"Well, I will," he replied.-" And to return to our religious establishment. I think it is reasonable that persons whose opinions do not agree with those of the
bulk of the nation in spiritual matters should be excluded from  situations of authority in the country;
though I think it would be very hard to deprive them of
the free exercise of their religion."




374                EMANCIPATION.
"I cannot see what religion has to do with government," I replied.
"Every man's principles," returned Robert, " must
have much to do with his actions: for instance, do not
your principles and mine operate powerfully on us both,
in the management of our respective wives l Were
Ellen to wear a cap or bonnet I did not approve, I should
tell her of it immediately, and should be displeased if
she did not change the fashion."
" In that case," I replied, " you would convert the
simple act of wearing a top-knot which did not suit your
taste into a breach of morals; and here is precisely an
exemplification of what I began my argument with,
namely, that offences may be multiplied, and occasions
of guilt created, by too severe a discipline. And hence,
I approve of the wisdom, and I admire the policy, of
that system which I hope to see established in our
island before many years are past.  I would have
every situation of authority and honour under government laid open, without test or inquiry, to every respectable person, of whatever creed he might be. I
would have every assistance and every encouragement
given to immoral persons,, by which they might be
brought back into the bosom of their families. I would
have the utmost tenderness shown even to the felon,
whom we are obliged to exclude from  society in selfdefence. And I should be sorry ever to exercise any
thing like discipline over a faithless wife, or an undutiful son or daughter, so long as any hopes remained of
reclaiming such a one by tenderness or forbearance, or
by any conceivable exercise of charity or love."
I then proceeded to spout certain absurdities which I
thought very fine, respecting universal love and charity,
philanthropy, and benevolence; denominating indiscriminate forgiveness a godlike attribute; when Robert
interrupted me, by simply asking, to what God I attributed this quality. " Not, I trust," he added, " to the
God of the Christians l for the very foundation and
basis of true Christians is this, brother; that the Lord
our God, being perfectly holy and just, could not forgive
sin as an absolute God; or without a sacrificial atonement. And hence, to harmonize the attribute of mercy
with that of justice, he ordained, before the foundation
of the world, his own Son to be a propitiation for the sins
of the whole world; thus exhibiting his incapacity of




EMANCIPATION.                375
forgiving sins (to speak after the manner of men), by
the very measure which he took, in his divine wisdom,
to show his infinite love towards his fallen creatures.
Do not, therefore, think, James," continued my brother,
" that you are imitating the divine character by this blind
and indiscriminate benevolence which you so much
praise; which, in fact, is but a device of the Evil One
infused into the minds of men, in order, no doubt, to
confound all proper distinctions of right and wrong;
and actually to make it men's interests to do ill that they
may obtain favour."
I was by this time at the door of my patient's house,
and not sorry to part from my brother, with whom I
found it impossible to coincide,in any one opinion.
From that time my brother and I had many discussions of the same nature, but neither of us was in the
least disposed to give way, and therefore our arguments
only tended to make us uneasy in each other's company, and to discomfort both our parents and Robert's
wife; all of whom, as well they might; thought me
decidedly wrong; that is, as far as they could understand me.
After this, years passed on without any great changes,
excepting that both families were augmented by the
birth, in one of two children, and in the other of
three. My brother's son was the eldest of this generation, and was called George, after my father. My son
was his junior only by a few months: we called.himn
William, after my deceased uncle. In two years more
a daughter was added to our family, and another son
to my brother's; and, as much as eight years afterward,
a second daughter was given to me, on which dear
child we bestowed the name of Sarah.
It was when my son William and. my daughter Bessy
had attained the ages of five and three, that the baleful
effects of my false principles began to display themselves more evidently. My wife, as I before said, was
young and inexperienced when she married me; and
my absurd notion of not interfering with her caprices had
deprived her in many instances of the benefit of my
advice. There is an old saying, that "two heads are
better than one;" and even granting that a man may not
always be wiser than his wife, yet it may be naturally
supposed that, when two persons having the same interests, take counsel together, some good may some



376               EMANCIPATION.
times accrue from the very pause and delay which these
consultations must occasion. But the independent principles which I entertained, as I before stated, had prevented me from holding any of these consultations with
my wife; indulging the idea that I had no right to
interfere with any of her little whims or caprices, or
even with her opinions, so long as she allowed me the
same liberty. If, therefore, she did not improve under
my management, no one can wonder; and if our children were not guided in the best manner possible, it will
not, I suppose, be a matter of surprise to my reader.But to return to what I was about to say.
My mother was always anxious that all her family
should meet on Easter Sunday at the Woodhouse to
dine, and accordingly on that Easter Sunday which happened soon after William had completed his fifth year
we all met under the paternal roof, and had an excellent/ dinner; after which, my brother and myself took
a walk with our little sons, and were returning, when
the boys picked up a little puppy which belonged to a
dog in the yard, and brought it into the kitchen. The
puppy made a whining noise, which attracting my brother's attention, he bade his son carry the little animal
back to its mother. We then proceeded to the parlour,
which was always used on this annual festivity, but
were presently called out again into the kitchen by the
loud cries of the little dog, which George had placed
upon the dresser, instead of carrying it back to its
mother. The creature had fallen from the dresser, and
was considerably hurt. My brother no sooner understood the state of the case, than he took a small horsewhip from a peg in the kitchen and gave his boy a
slight stroke over the shoulders, which made him roar
louder than the puppy had done.
" Be silent, sir," said his father. " If you give another
roar, I shall give you another stroke. Go up to your
room, pray to God to forgive you for your disobedience,
and don't come down till you are humble."
The little fellow was silent in a moment, and went
stumping up stairs, half-frightened and half-sullen. My
brother then turned round to put up the whip in its place,
and, in so doing, stepped near my boy, who, starting
back, said, "Uncle, you are not going to beat me!
Father never beats me!" and he looked boldly up to
him as if he dared him to it.




EMANCIPATION.               377
"It is not my business to correct you, little master,"
replied Robert, " while you have a father to do you that
good turn; you have nothing to fear from me;" and
he replaced the whip, and accompanied me into the parlour. There we found the rest of the family seated
round the tea-table; and we also sat down: but I observed that my brother was thoughtful; and, on Ellen
asking where George was, he answered that he had
corrected him for disobedience."
"Yes," I said, addressing my sister; "he laid his
horsewhip over his shoulders, and then sent him to his
room till he had done roaring."
"He did very right," replied Ellen, calmly, "if he
was disobedient."
"And don't you ask what mighty offence a child of
five years old could be guilty of, sister, to deserve such
a punishment V"
"I understood that he was disobedient," she replied.
"Disobedient!" I repeated: "giddy, thoughtless, forgetful. He did not put the puppy down, when his father
bade him."
"Well, what was that, brother James, but disobedience V" asked Ellen.
Robert reddened, while this was passing, and looked
as if determined not to enter into an argument on the
subject: but I was equally determined that he should;
and challenged him to the contest, by saying, " Surely,
Robert, it would be better to reason with a child at that
age, when he does wrong, than to use such violent measures. I have never laid a hand on William."
" So he told me just now," replied my brother.
"And you see the consequence, Robert: his will is
free, his spirit unbroken: and he will tell the truth in
the face of the whole world, whether it makes against
him or not. But once lay the horsewhip across his
back, and he loses that noble confidence for ever."
"Noble confidence!" repeated Robert: "might not
another name be used for this sort of behaviour l Truth
I delight in, but not when it proceeds from want of
shame. Children should be taught to be ashamed of
what is wrong, and be made to know that chastisements
will follow bad conduct; and they should not be accustomed to suppose that all is right, when they acknowledge their faults without shame or penitence."
4' You will make a canting hypocrite of your boy,




378                EMANCIPATION.
Robert," I said; "that is, if he does not, by-and-by,
break the yoke, and leave your house. This sort of
treatment might have done years ago, when children,
by comparing notes, could discover that the same process of tyranny was going on in every other family as
well as their own. But in these enlightened days, when
the march of intellect is making such rapid strides,
another system must be adopted. Man must now be
governed by reason, or not governed at all. Blind obedience can no longer be expected, either from wives,
children, or servants. Man has discovered his rights,
and will require to be treated with justice. Every
man's conscience must now be a law to himself, and
the regulator of his actions. I desire not the blind
obedience of any person connected with me; nor can I
understand why any individual should demand such
submission from another. I abhor the system of controlling the actions or principles of any free agentsuch is man-and I reprobate every measure of government by which the reasoning and thinking powers of
the subject are to be brought under the trammels of
custom."
I was proceeding to this or some such effect, when
the door was burst open, and George entered, his eyes
being swelled, and his little features all blubbered and
shining with tears; while his sobs were so loud as to
shake his whole little body. Straight he ran to his
father, and was on his knees in a moment before him,
begging pardon; then to his mother; then to his grandfather; then to his grandmother; as if he felt that he
could not have offended one without offending all: imploring, entreating, with all the energy of infant eloquence; and not being satisfied till he had received the
kiss of peace from each honoured individual, nor being
perfectly happy again till lifted upon the knees of his
father: where, as from a place of perfect security and
happiness, he humbly waited until his portion was administered to him from the hands of his mother.
"What say you now, James!" said Robert, at the
conclusion of this scene. "Who is so happy now as
the contrite child, received again into his father's arms'
Would all the reasonings of the wisest man that ever
lived have had such speedy and salutary influence on
this infant as the chastisement, given by the hand of




EMANCIPATION.               379
affection, which has produced these feelings in this
short time V"
Where persons are resolved not to be convinced, no
arguments will prevail. I determined to retain my own
opinion, and Robert held as fast to his: and from that
time, as if by mutual consent, we saw less and less of
each other for several years; and, in consequence, our
children met much seldomer.
About two years after that, I began to look out for a
school for William. I sent him to one in the village;
but, as I stipulated with the master that he never should
use corporal punishment, and as my son was aware of
this stipulation, it is not to be supposed that I could
keep him there long. I therefore soon removed him;
and, happening to meet with a schoolmaster at some
distance, to whom the forty or fifty pounds a year I
paid for my son was an object of some consequence, I
failed not to hear an excellent account of the youth's
improvement from vacation to vacation: and as fathers
are sometimes blind to the faults of their children, I
was by no means the first to observe that the reports of
the master did not exactly tally with the manners, and
appearance, and general improvement of the boy.
Something, indeed, might be pleaded for me, in consideration of my constant occupation abroad; nevertheless, I had sufficient opportunity to see the faults of my
son, had I not been blinded by self-conceit.
Bessy was sent to school soon after her brother. Her
mother had chosen the same seminary in which she
had herself been educated; and as I left the management of my girl to her mother, 1 cannot be supposed to
have understood more of my daughter's character than
of her brother's. Bessy was as much as eight years
old when Sarah was born.
My wife was very ill soon after the birth of this
child; and not being able to nurse her herself, the infant
was sent to a cottager, who lived very near the Woodhouse, that she might be under the eye of my mother,
whose talents as a good nurse were never questioned
by me. The cottager was engaged to give the infant
milk, and the little creature throve so well in her country abode, that we left her for several years where she
was; and it may be supposed that she spent many hours
each day with her relations at the Woodhouse.
When William was thirteen, he was brought home,




380              EMANCIPATION.
and bound to me, to serve in my shop, and to gather
what he could from me relative to my profession, to
which I purposed to bring him up. Two years after
this, Bessy left school; and thus we had both our children at home again. And now the independent principles in which I had brought up my children, and which
I had encouraged in my wife, began to display their
riper fruits.
During the first few months, or perhaps I might say
the first two years, of my son's residence with me, I
had little to complain of in him but a sort of insolence
of manner, now and then displayed towards me and my
wife, and universally evidenced towards his relations at
the Woodhouse. I do not recollect whether the noun
quiz, or the verb which answers to it, had been brought
into use at that time; but this I remember, that my son
vWas continually employed in using that figure of speech
which in these days we should call quizzing; and that
his elders and superiors were almost invariably the objects of his exploits of that kind: not that his cousins
escaped; for he was particularly bitter upon George,
who was by this time become a very fine youth in appearance, and was, also, very well spoken of in the
neighbourhood. I remember well, that, being in the
shop on one occasion with my son, I was struck with
his independent manner to a customer; and I argued
the point with him, and told him, that, as we lived by
our patients, it was necessary for us to be polite to
them.
" I wonder then," he replied, " that you can submit
to this manner of life, father. To be obliged to weigh
out a scruple of magnesia, or measure a drachm of
castor oil, for every fool who chooses to ask for such
things, is a sort of servitude which is hardly to be
borne. And then to make a bow, and say,'Much
obliged, madam,' to every old woman who chooses to
lay out sixpence with one, really, father, it is what I
cannot do."
" And pray," I answered, " what can you do then? or
what situation can you choose in life, in which you must
not submit to some of the humours of your fellowcreatures V'
In reply to this, my son muttered something, of which
I only heard so much:-" When I am out of my timewhen I am my own master-" &c.




EMANCIPATION.               381
"When you are out of your time," I answered, taking
up his words, " you will have more sense; and will find,
that, if you are to get on in the world, you must submit
to the customs of the world, and the laws of society."
"You have often said, father," he replied, "that those
laws and customs of society which prevailed in your
younger days, and in my grandfather's time, are all
absurd and out of date; that people know better now;
and that the tyranny which was formerly exercised by
parents and masters cannot at present be tolerated. I
am sure I have heard you say such things a thousand
and a thousand times."
"You have mistaken me, William," I said, "quite
mistaken me."
"1 am sure I have not though," he replied; "I have
heard you a thousand times laugh at the old sayings of
my grandfather and grandmother, and speak of the march
of intellect, and say how things would be changed byand-by."
" Ay, by-and-by," I said, " mind that, William; things
will be changed by-and-by, but they are not come to
perfection yet: people are not yet so far enlightened as
not to demand submission from those to whose wellbeing in society they contribute. I have no doubt that
as the march of intellect advances, these exactions will
be no longer made; but, at present, we must bend a
little to prejudices; and you must not offend our customers upon any account. There is no druggist's shop
within many miles of this; and I can assure you, that
ever since I have been settled in this place, I have
gained a very considerable emolument by the sale of
drugs, and turned many hundred pounds in this way."
" More than I shall ever do," muttered my son.
I felt my fingers itch, to use a rustic phrase, to apply
a horsewhip on this occasion to the shoulders of the
youth; and late in the day as it was, it would have been
well if I had not resisted this inclination; but I had
spouted so many absurdities for years past, upon the
new mode of managing young people without coercion,
that I was ashamed of departing from my own principles,
and very unwilling to confess myself in the wrong. I
therefore resolved to get on as well as I could with my
son, hoping that time would bring him to reason; for I
was utterly ignorant of the depravity of man's nature,
and still believed that all I saw amiss in my fellow



~82                EMANCIPATION.
creatures proceeded from ignorance, bad government,
prejudices, ill examples, and narrow-mindedness.
Soon after this conversation, Mrs. Penson began to
make complaints of her daughter; alleging that she
would not give her any assistance in her household;
that she spent half her day in looking out of the window;
was always teasing her for new dresses; and was actually very insolent to her whenever she admonished her
of afault. These complaints, which were often repeated,
and which came upon me at the time when I saw more
and more every day of what I did not like in my boy,
had rather the effect of making me irritable than of producing proper conviction; and I interrupted my wife
several times in the midst of her complaints, saying, " I
wish you would exercise a little liberality towards your
daughter: you cannot expect gray heads on young
shoulders: she will be wiser by-and-by.'When her face
is less blooming, she will be less anxious to show it;
and when her person is less youthful, she will not feel
so much pleasure in adorning it." Experience might
have taught me that vanity and levity are not overcome
merely by the influence of age; otherwise, how could
we account for the number of vain old women who infest
our public places, bringing shame and contempt on
wrinkles and hoary heads.
After the return of.Bessy from school, our ill-arranged
family went on together in an uncomfortable way for as
much as two years, during which I became increasingly
dissatisfied with my son; and so did Mrs. Penson with
her daughter. In the mean time, little Sarah, who had
been brought home, was taken ill, first with the measles,
and then with the whooping-cough; after which, she fell
into so delicate a state of health,'that I and her mother
were very glad to yield to the solicitations of our relations at the Woodhouse, who requested that she might
return to them; and, indeed, I was not sorry that this
my little darling (for my Sarah was a lovely child) should
be removed from the influence of her brother and sister,
who now began to give me more uneasiness than I liked
to confess; but as I had about that period of my life as
much as I could possibly do in my profession, I had less
time to give way to reflections concerning the state of
my family.
About the time when William was in his eighteenth
year, there came to settle in one of the handsomest




EMANCIPATION.               383
houses in our village a sprightly widow-lady of about
forty years of age. My wife immediately called upon
her; and she took the earliest opportunity of employing
me in a professional way, by sending for me to her footman; a youth who had been reared in the family, and
was, I found, a great favourite with his mistress. This
young man had met with a slight accident, which I soon
remedied.
This lady, whom I shall call Mrs. Seymour, at first
appeared to me to be a sort of blue-stocking, or female
pedant; and, being certainly a very weak woman, I
found that it would be no difficult matter to get to her
blind side and win her favour, by using some of those
hard words and fine-turned periods which I had so often
used in vain while opposing the plain good sense of my
brother Robert, and the straight-forward simplicity of
my father.
Accordingly, in a very short time, I was told that Mrs.
Seymour had declared me the most agreeable man in
the parish; and, out of regard for me, she patronised my
wife and daughter; and even began to complain of a
nervous disorder, which made it necessary for me to
call very often to inquire after her health. Thus the
intimacy between the two families augmented; and, in
the same proportion, the distance increased between
ourselves and the worthy people at the Woodhouse.
Things went on in this way for more than a year, and
I still retained Mrs. Seymour's favour; but, about that
time, a middle-aged man, who was a native of the village, suddenly returned with a little independent property; and having bought a small piece of ground, built
and opened a meeting-house, which was immediately
filled. Truth obliges me to say, that the parish was
prepared for an invasion of this sort, by the neglect of
our own minister; who, being a relation of the nobleman whose tenant my father was, had several other
pieces of preferment, and, in consequence, had never
resided among us, or even supplied us with a resident
curate. Religion, therefore, had been for a long time
little attended to in the parish in general; and the state
of'the greater part of the inhabitants was that of the
most profound ignorance. By reason of which, had the
establisher of this chapel been a man who could have
taught us the true doctrines of our religion, he might
have been a blessing to numbers in our parish. But,




384              EMANCIPATION.
unfortunately, this was not the case.  Mr. Everard
Johnson (for such was his name) was, to the extent, as
ignorant as any journeyman curate in the United Kingdom, and, perhaps, I might add, as immoral as the very
worst sample of these; though he had some qualities
which blinded his people, and made them believe that
he was a prodigiously fine preacher, and a perfect pattern of all that is excellent. His voice was loud and
deep; and he was even a greater adept than myself in
using hard words and fine-turned periods. His person,
too, was attractive, and he had a peculiar art in interpreting Scripture so as to confirm his own opinions.
What these opinions were I should not soon have
known, had not my brother Robert informed me, on an
occasion which I shall presently relate.
Mr. Johnson had scarcely opened his chapel before
Mrs. Seymour made her appearance there-was all enraptured-and insisted on my wife and daughter accompanying her in her next visit. My wife yielded to her
solicitations, and came home in raptures, saying, that
she had resolved she would henceforth be a constant
attendant on Mr. Johnson.
"Do as you please, my dear," I answered: " I shall
not interfere with your wishes on this subject, so long
as you do not desire me to accompany you. I was
brought up in the Episcopal Church, and am, for my
own part, very well contented with the establishment."
Mrs. Penson smiled, and said, "Then why do you
not go to church now and then?"
" Because," I replied, " my profession does not leave
me the opportunity."
From that period, my wife continued to attend Mr.
Johnson's ministry both on Sundays and week-days (for
the chapel was open one or more days in the week); and
soon after she became a decided follower of Mr. Johnson our annual meeting for dinner took place at the
Woodhouse.
After dinner on this occasion, while all the family
were present, Mr. Johnson's name was mentioned; and
my father and mother both expressed strong dislike to
the circumstance of a chapel being erected in the village, appealing to me on the subject to uphold their
opinions: for neither of my excellent parents even then
understood me well enough to guess how I should be
likely to decide on any given subject.




EMANCIPATION.               385
"And pray, father," I replied, "why should you object to the erection of any chapel in which the poor
are instructed  and in which the long-neglected flock
may have a chance at length of receiving some improvement?"
" A poor chance, I fear, James," remarked my brother. " Are you aware what doctrine is preached in the
new chapel V"
"No," I replied, "I never inquired. But my wife
can inform you."
Robert turned his eyes upon his sister-in-law; and
she answered his inquiring looks by saying, " I am sure,
brother, that we hear nothing but what is particularly
good from Mr. Johnson. He says, that without religion
and virtue, no person can expect to be happy in the
next world; and he talks of our Saviour in the finest
imaginable way. He says, that he is the first example
of human excellence that ever appeared,"
" And does he tell you, sister," asked Robert, " that
this Saviour is one with God, and equal with God. that
he became incarnate d and that it was necessary for
him to live and die for our redemption. Does he tell
you that divine justice could not be satisfied with any
thing short of perfect obedience  and that salvation
could not be effected by any thing less than the sufferings of God in the human nature V" Then turning to
me, and addressing me in a solemn manner, " James,"
he said, " I do not object to this self-appointed teacher
merely because he does not belong to our excellent establishment, but because he is a teacher of false doctrines.-This is a fact which I was led to ascertain by
a request made to me, a few days since, by George, that
I would allow him to attend for once on Mr. Johnson's
ministry; and I do not hesitate to say that, from the
result of my inquiries, I am convinced his preaching is
not conformable to Scripture: in consequence of which
I have forbidden my family to enter within the walls of
his chapel."
" And you would advise me to do the same V" I replied.
" I have no right to dictate to you, James," he answered.
" Certainly not," I said; " certainly not."
"But perhaps I might venture to advise," added
Robert.
VOL. V.-R




386              EMANCIPATION.
Here my father took up the argument; and remarked,
that it was always dangerous to follow teachers who
had no fixed creed, no written articles-and who might
change their doctrines and their forms of instruction at
their own pleasure: and he added much more to the
same purpose; concluding his discourse with a high encomium on our Liturgy and constitution; and speaking of a sister of his, who had died years ago, and had
been led from error to error, till, at last, she had herself
finished in being a public preacher-from having taken
a prejudice against the preacher of: her own church
when yet in her early youth; "at which period of
life," he added, " the judgment is commonly very weak."
The old gentleman brought both William and Bessy
upon him for this last remark; and I hinted, that, if the
judgment of young people was not always good, that of
older persons, being liable to be warped by prejudice,
was often no better.
This remark displeased my mother, who took up the
contrary side very warmly; and the evening was terminated in so unpleasant a manner, that my wife and I
resolved to make our visits at the Woodhouse less frequent than ever; while William and Bessy, during our
walk home, spoke of the whole family at the farm with
the utmost possible contempt.
From that period my wife became more and more
under the influence of the new teacher; and Mrs. Seymour, who was a lover of novelties, having declared
herself the patroness of Mr. Johnson, nothing was
heard of among a certain party in the village, but parties
to the chapel, meetings in private houses, with other
matters of the same kind; which are all in themselves
good under proper regulations, and must be approved by
every well-meaning person, with proper restrictions, but
which, without such restrictions, are to be feared. Yet,
as it was my principle to allow toleration to every one
to the utmost possible extent, consistent with certain
indefinite notions I entertained of the rights of man, I
never inquired into the mode in which these things were
managed, or attempted to control my wife in any of her
schemes. But this new fancy of Mrs. Penson's had one
effect which I did not immediately apprehend; it withdrew her from home and from attention to her family;
and many things were thereby neglected, to which Mrs.
Penson had formerly attended, as a wife should do.




EMANCIPATION.                387
About this time, my father and mother hearing certain reports which did not please them, ventured several
times to advise me to keep a more diligent watch over
my family. I say ventured, for I was in the habit of
receiving their advice with so much insolence, that it
must have been extremely painful to them to enter into
any argument with me: but I had then unfortunately so
much of the spirit of contradiction about me, that expostulations of any kind tended rather to confirm me in
my errors than to lead me to a wiser mode of conduct.
It would serve no purpose to repeat all the arguments
used by my parents to induce a wiser discipline with my
children; or to lead me to exercise that influence which
every man ought to have with his wife to persuade her
to keep more at home, and to practise her religious
duties more in retirement than she was inclined at that
time to do. Suffice it to say, that our last conference
on these subjects ended in an open rupture. I gave my
parents to understand that I desired no further interference by them in my affairs. And my mother, as she
went weeping out of the house, said, " Well, James, I
now give up for ever, that wish which I have long foolishly indulged, namely, that George and Bessy should
make a match, and that the two brothers should thus
again be united: for I now see the folly of entertaining
such wishes; and I will henceforth endeavour to leave
all to One who is as much wiser than I am as the east is
removed from the west."
It was not long after this conversation that Mrs. Penson had a party; to which she invited Mr. Johnson,
Mrs. Seymour, and all those persons who favoured their
notions; and there was a great deal of talking, and
many whisperings; and Mr. Johnson offended me by
making a direct attack upon me, because I did not attend
his preaching; my wife, Mrs. Seymour, and Bessy, all
upholding him in their different ways.
I was plain with him on the occasion, and explained
my principles to him, in the same way as I had done on
many former occasions to others; observing, that although I had no leisure for going to church, yet, that I
belonged to the establishment; had been brought up in
it; and had no mind to leave it; thinking it as good as
any other; adding, at the same time, that I was nevertheless a person of the most liberal way of thinking,
and would allow the utmost liberty to my family; and
R2




388               EMANCIPATION.
should never think of interfering with their sentiments
and modes of worship. And, having thus declared myself, I left the room, in order to cut the argument short.
But, as I afterward found, my son took it up where I had
left it, and uttered many disagreeable truths, which
drew upon him the displeasure of the whole company,
and that to such a degree, that many persons then present declared they would rather go ten miles for a drug,
from that day forward, than enter my shop when he
was behind the counter.
This animosity among my neighbours presently appeared in its effects, and threatened such serious consequences, that I, understanding the cause, became excessively angry with my son, and insisted that he should
beg pardon of those whom  he had offended. But he
was violent, and not only refused to obey me, but insulted his mother, and told her that all this mischief had
proceeded from her folly. " Why did you form this improper intimacy with such canting fools, mother V" he
said: " all this trouble proceeds from your nonsense."
I was enraged at this insolence, and reproved him
very severely; on which he became sullen, and we
were all in confusion, when Mr. Johnson, either by accident or design, came in; and, the case being opened
to! him, he took upon him to give his opinion. He told
me at once that my son was very much disliked; and
that I certainly should lose all the customers who esteemed him as their friend, if I persisted in keeping the
youth in the shop: and he advised me to let my daughter wait upon those whom William had insulted.
Bessy in her turn was offended at this proposal, and
I myself did not like it; but Mrs. Penson approved of
it, and asserted it to be very proper and judicious; and,
being thus upheld, Mr. Johnson insisted more urgently
upon the expediency of his counsel. On which William suddenly veered round to his side, saying, that he
did not see what Bessy was more fit for than to weigh
drugs; adding, that he would be bound to teach her in a
month all she need to know: the young man inwardly
chuckling and triumphing at the mortification which his
sister betrayed.
I could hardly restrain myself from pointing out the
door to Mr. Johnson, and bidding him avail himself of
it, to walk out of the house; but he had scarcely taken
his leave, at his own pleasure, when I burst out upon




EMANCIPATION.               389
my wife with the more fury, from the restraint I had put
upon myself in his presence, and said, " What does this
puppy come here for, to dictate to me in my own house T
What has he to do with the management of my family?"
" What did you let mother go to his chapel for then,
father." said my son: "did not uncle Robert, months
ago, advise you to keep her and Bessy more at home V"
" What has attending the man's preaching to do with
his ruling my house V" I asked.
" Why a great deal," replied William.  "What are
people governed by, but their principles. as uncle Robert
says. If Mr. Johnson has taught mother to think as he
does, why, to be sure she will act as he wishes. What
else could you expect, father" "
" Cannot you be silent, William?" said Mrs. Penson.
" Did you not, just now, say you approved of what Mr.
Johnson proposed regarding Bessy. and now you are
turning against him, now that he is gone away."
"No," replied William, "I am not turning against
what he proposed about Bessy" (and he nodded provokingly at his sister); "but I do think that the man
steps out of his place when he comes here, and lays
down his injunctions in the way he does. And I blame
you, father, for letting him come at all; for anybody of
common sense might have foreseen how it would end,
when he was gaining such influence over mother, and
when his sentiments are so opposite to yours. For, if a
man has any spirit in him connected with those notions
he thinks highly of, he will be for making others do as he
thinks right; and, for that reason, father, when I have a
house of my own, and a wife of my own, and children
of my own, they shall do as I wish, or I will know the
reason why."
" Well, young man," I said, prompted by an indignation which, had I given way to it, would have induced
me to lay my horse-whip over the young man's shoulders, " in accordance with what you have just said, I
shall take the liberty of bidding you to be silent; and of
hinting to Mrs. Penson, that I should be obliged to her to
keep her doors shut henceforward against that pragmatical fellow, Mr. Johnson. And as to you, Bessy, you
will understand, that it is my wish, when you see any
person in the shop to whom your brother is disagreeable,
that you go to them, and show them as much civility as
lies in your power."




390               EMANCIPATION.
A very urgent call, from a patient at some miles
distance, forced me at that moment to break up this disagreeable intercourse; but it may well be believed that
my reflections, as I rode to and from my patient's
house, were not the most agreeable. I, however, then
resolved, though too late, to be firm; and not only to
forbid my wife's attendance on Mr. Johnson's ministry,
but also to forbid him the house, and never to allow her
to visit Mrs. Seymour but in my company.
The case of my patient had not detained me so long
as I expected; I therefore returned before it was supposed I should; and it was about seven in the evening.
I saw my son in the shop; and he told me that my wife
and daughter were at Mrs. Seymour's. I hastened there
after them; and found Mrs. Seymour, Mrs. Penson, and
Mr. Johnson in the parlour; but Bessy was not with
them. I was asked to sit down, and tea was handed to
me; after which, Mrs. Seymour said, that she had heard
I was offended with Mr. Johnson; and then she proceeded to apologize for him, though he was present, and
to say that he was too frank, and could not help speaking his mind. " In that respect, dear Mr. Penson," she
added, "he resembles you-all warmth of heart-and
now and then, perhaps, a little warmth of temper too.
But allow me, my dear friends, to bring you together.
Let the religion of one of you, and the benevolence and
candour of the other, produce the blessed and lovely
fruits of charity. Let me see you give your hand to Mr.
Johnson, my dear Mr. Penson. Let me witness this
work of peace. And may the remembrance of the unpleasant circumstances of this day be blotted entirely
from your memories!"
Being thus urged, I shook hands with Mr. Johnson;
though I secretly determined that my wife should never
go to his chapel again.
It was getting dark, although it was summer-time,
when this reconciliation was effected; and I had just
solicited my wife to prepare to accompany me home,
when I thought of my daughter, and asked where she
was.
"0, Bessy is gone into the pleasure-grounds," said
Mrs. Seymour, " to see the improvements I have been
making. We could not think of keeping her shut up
here with us old people."  Mrs. Seymour then rang, and
sent a servant to call her; and she presently came il~




EMANCIPATION.                391
appearing heated and agitated, which I did not fail to
notice.
As we walked home, I told my wife that I would have
her stay more at home, and keep her daughter more with
her; and I also gave Bessy a lecture: in consequence of
which, we all arrived at our house in very ill humour,
and in that state went to bed.
Mrs. Penson wept the greater part of that night, and
the next morning complained of a headache: and in a
few hours was really so unwell, as to be obliged to
go to bed. She kept her room  some weeks with a
rheumatic and feverish complaint; and I was a good
deal disturbed for some days about'her health. But my
fears of this kind presently gave way to unpleasant feelings of another nature: for when a little better, nothing
would satisfy her but she must send for Mrs. Seymour;
and this lady, when admitted, insisted upon it that Mrs.
Penson's mind was uneasy, and that she must be permitted to see Mr. Johnson.
I persisted, for some time, in saying that Mr. Johnson
should never enter my house again; but Mrs. Seymour
appealed to my own principles, and reminded me of my
own words.  "Have you not often said, my dear Mr.
Penson," said she, " that the old system of things is now
about to be exploded — that the principles of domestic
tyranny, so long held as sacred, are now, from the rapid
march of intellect, considered entirely wrong — that
you have no idea of influencing the opinions of your
wife — and that you think every human being's conscience ought to be a law to himself  Htave I not heard
you say, if your wife were an Hindoo, you would not
hinder her having her little idol in her own chamber
or on your mantel-piece t and if she were a Mahometan,
she should have her mosque and her minaret in the
corner of your field, if it would give her any pleasure?
Why then deprive her of a rational and improving
teacher 3 why deprive her of that which is necessary to
the peace of her mindl  Yousaythatyouarecontent with
your own religion and your own forms of worship. Well
and good; be it so. We may and do think you mistaken; nevertheless we will let you alone: yet, at least
we have a right to demand the same forbearance from
you which we exercise towards you."
"The same," I said; "but not more."
"Not more! what do you mean," she answered,




392               EMANCIPATION.
" Why," I replied, " that you should let me and my
family alone. I do not come into your house, and
meddle with your family as you do with mine. I have
never given my opinion about your proceedings; or
wished to have any influence in your affairs."
"Neither does Mr. Johnson wish to interfere with you,
Mr. Penson," she replied: " all I ask for him is, that he
may be permitted to administer spiritual comfort to her
who is in so much need of such consolation."
I might fill a quire of paper with a relation of the
various arguments on this subject which took place between me and Mrs. Seymour. Suffice it to say, that
by dint of perseverance, she at length prevailed; Mr.
Johnson was permitted to visit the house again; and
from that time I was sensible, from day to day, that I
was less and less the master of my own family. Not
that Mr. Johnson, at first, openly interfered in my concerns; this he avoided doing on many accounts; but
he was a man of strong mind, and had an object in view
of which he never lost sight. He had been educated by
Socinians; and the advancement of his sect, with the
establishment of a congregation in the place appointed
him by his superiors, was that at which he aimed with
undeviating steadiness.
It was by gaining influence over the females of such
families as he could find admittance to, that he thought
he should best obtain his end; and no doubt he had hit
upon a method most likely to ensure success. He had
won the confidence of Mrs. Seymour and Mrs. Penson,
by pressing upon them the importance of religion in
general; though he had kept them in entire ignorance
respecting the real nature of the true faith; and he was
always ready to excite their fears, whenever they attempted to throw off his yoke, bymaking it appear that
his cause and that of God's were one and the same;-an
artifice which he upheld by the most flowery and impressive disquisitions, respecting the power of God, the
beauty of virtue, and the horrors of death.
How far this man was sincere in his views of religion,
and how far he was not so, 1 cannot pretend to say.
But on this I cannot be mistaken, namely, that he was
very sincere in attachment to his party; and, in consequence, left no means untried to gain proselytes to his
own ways of thinking.
The first strong symptom which appeared of his influ



EMANCIPATION.               393
ence in my family, when readmitted, was a request, on
the part of Mrs. Penson, that I should have Sarah at
home. " Bessy is no comfort to me, but Sarah would
be a very great one," she said; "she is a dear little
girl; and when she comes home for a few days she is so
neat, and so obliging, and so pleasant; and she is so excellent a needle-woman, and reads so correctly, and
sings hymns so prettily, that it would be quite a pity she
should be spoiled. And they say she will be ruined if
she remains at the farm much longer, she will obtain
such false notions of religion."
"They say!" I repeated: " who are they?"
"Mr. Johnson and Mrs. Seymour," replied Mrs. Penson.
" I wish Mr. Johnson and Mrs. Seymour would let me
and my family alone," I answered. " If you would be
governed by your own good sense, Mrs. Penson, and
not by the absurd arguments of these people, you would
perceive, that if Sarah is a better behaved girl than
Bessy, it is probable that is because she is better managed; and you would not wish to take her from those
who have made her the lovely child which she is, to
make her like the girl you have spoiled."
My wife gave up the point at that time; but, being
urged by Mr. Johnson, she returned to the charge again
and again; and, no doubt, would have carried her points
had not other circumstances intervened to alter her purposes.
When Mr. Johnson was readmitted into our family, my
son took the liberty of telling me that I should repent my
weakness sooner or later; and showed such marked insolence towards him and to all his party, that my wife became exceedingly angry; and I thought it right to reprove
the young man; on which he submitted. But Mr. Johnson took upon him, soon after this, to give him a private
lecture on his behaviour to his mother; on which he
broke out again, and we were all in such confusion that
I became weary of my home, and began to frequent a
club in an evening, where I met my neighbours and enjoyed some quiet. But the more frequently I absented
myself from home, the more influence Mr. Johnson obtained there; and such, at length, was the disorder
among us, that I became thoroughly irritated; and, no
doubt, often acted the part which I most opposed iu
others, namely, that of the domestic tyrant.
R3




394               EMANCIPATION.
While things were in this state, a proposal was made
to me, by the father of a young farmer in the neighbourhood, for Bessy.  I approved this proposal, and
mentioned it to my family. But it seems that Mr. Johnson had a friend of his own whom he wished to recommend, and my wife was, of course, on his side. My son
also had some dispute with the young man I wished for
a son-in-law; and Bessy had also ideas of her own on
the subject. My proposition, therefore, met with general opposition; and Bessy told me, with a great deal of
pertness, that she thought it very hard I should attempt
to bias her inclinations; that the time was past in
which parents were permitted to regulate their children's opinions; and that I had never thought it necessary to attend to my father's injunctions, and sl: did
not see why she was to attend to me.
My wife also attacked me, pleading that the son-in-law
I proposed was not a religious man, and that, therefore,
she could not consent to the marriage. And William
told me plainly that he would have nothing to do with
him, and would not own him as a brother.
I was almost driven out of my senses by these provocations, and, in my passion, I told Bessy that she should
either marry the man I proposed, or go to service; telling my son at the same time, that if he did not choose
to submit to me, he might find another home and another
master; and so saying I hastened to my club, where,
meeting some of my old companions, I opened my whole
mind to them.
" It is entirely owing to your new fancies, Mr. Penson," answered a respectable mercer, who was sitting
at the same table; " all owing to your march of intellect business, your toleration, and your contempt of old
saws and the wise ways of our ancestors. I expected
how things would end, when you told Mr. Bell there,
our good schoolmaster, that you never would have a son
of yours corrected, although Solomon advised it; who,
being the wisest of men, and more than that, inspired
of God himself, might be supposed to understand these
matters as well as you or I, and surely a little better.
But it is of no use talking now the affair is past. I see
nothing left for you to do but to stand to what you have
said: if Miss Bessy continues refractory, just hand her
up to her own bedroom and turn the key upon her; and
if Master William is insolent, take a cane and lay it over




EMANCIPATION.                395
his back. As to your wife, I say nothing; he is a bold
man, indeed who meddles between man and wife. Only
this much I will venture to affirm, if my wife did not
choose to do as I bid her, why I should be apt to make a
division of the house between her and me; and I would
be liberal with her, and give her the largest share; inasmuch as the outside of a box, or cask, or house, or
whatever it may be, is larger than the inside by the
width of the wall, or the wood-work, or whatever else it
may happen to be made of;" and he nodded to the gauger
across the table, and appealed to him for the truth of
this assertion.
Mr. Bell here interrupted the mercer, by saying, "Let
us forbear looking back, Mr. Rickets; you only make
Mr. Penson more unhappy, and that there is no need of;
we have all judged amiss in our time. No man is infalb.
lible; and hence the wisdom of following the old, tried,
and beaten path-the path which is sanctified by its
agreement with the way of holiness.  It is now our
business as friends, to give Mr. Penson our best advice,;
as we would do to you, Mr, Rickets, if you had made a
bad speculation in your business, or committed any
other error. My advice is, that, as Mr. Penson is blessed
with one of the best of brothers, whose children do him
all the credit a father could desire, he should walk over
to the Woodhouse to-morrow, before he takes any rash
steps, and hear what counsel Mr. Robert has to give."
It would have been well had I followed this temperate
advice of Mr. Bell; but the schoolmaster, having thus
uttered his sentiments, left us, as he always did, after he
had taken one cup of ale. And then the subject being
re-discussed, with the assistance of a bowl of punch, I
became so inflamed and heated, that I returned to my
house intent upon the strongest measures. And, being
again provoked by the manner of my wife and children,
when I entered the parlour, I locked Bessyin her room,
laid my walking-stick over the shoulders of my son, and
sent my wife crying to. her chamber; having attributed
faults to her of which she was not guilty.
There was a large sofa in the parlour, and there I lay,
after I had cleared the parlour, till the night-bell informed me that 1 must be up and away, my assistance
being required at six miles' distance.
Roger the boy, whose business it was, called me insmediately when the bell rang, and hastened into the




396               EMANCIPATION.
yard behind the house to saddle my horse. Being
already dressed, and finding that the horse was not
brought to the door, I went myself into the yard, and,
in so doing passed under my daughter's window. There
was a light in the room, and as I stepped quietly along,
Bessy opened the window, and said, " Roger, is it you V"
I stood still, but did not answer at first.
" I say, Roger," she continued, "is father going out T
I heard the night-bell."
" Yes!" I thundered out, "I am going out, miss; but
I shall be back very soon-before you want me. What
do you require of the boy 1"
"Nothing, father, nothing," she answered; "but I
feared something was the matter."
" What," I asked, " did you never hear the night-bell
before, that you should be calling to the boy at this
hour. Put out your light, and go to bed, or I will make
you know what it is to have an angry father."  The
window was immediately shut, and the light put out;
and I mounted immediately and rode out of the yard.
I was detained with my patient till towards the afternoon of the next day; and my reader may be well assured that during that detention my uneasiness was
very great. I can hardly account for the apprehensions
I endured at that time; they were such, however, that
when I alighted at my own door, I hastened into the
shop saying, " Where is Bessy 1 where is William?"
And thus speaking, I proceeded through the shop into
the parlour, and there found Mrs. Penson in tears, while
Mr. Johnson on one side of her, and Mrs. Seymour on
the other, were engaged in consoling her, while she
seemed to be refusing all comfort.
Mr. Johnson stepped forward immediately to explain
the mystery to me. He told me that William had been
missing ever since I had quitted home, during the night;
and that a letter he had left unsealed on his table addressed to me, had left no doubt that he had formed his
plans deliberately; had set coolly to work to make good
his escape from the parental roof; and that there was
little hope of his being brought back.
Mr. Johnson handed the letter to me as he spoke,
but I was unable to read it at that time: my feelings
were too powerful at the moment for my reason: I was
like one beside himself: I wished myself dead, or rather
that I had never been born: I know not what extrava



EMANCIPATION.                397
gances I uttered. But at length gaining more self-conm
mand, I read the letter, and then solemnly renounced
my son; saying to those present, that, as I could only
blame myself for over-indulgence and too great kindness, I should ever henceforward consider that young
man as a stranger who could thus coolly and deliberately cut the ties which bound him to his family, and
requite affection by the most base and black ingratitude.
Mrs. Penson here warmly addressed me. " Nay, my
dear," she said, " surely you would not renounce the
poor boy! Will you not try to trace him out? Will you
not endeavour to bring him back? Will you not forgive
him V"
" No!" I replied, in the bitterness of my feelings, " let
him go; let him taste the fruits of his own evil works;
let him know what want and hardships are. May he
come to beg a piece of bread! or to feed with the prodigal on the husks which are thrown to the swine!"
Mrs. Seymour retorted severely upon me for this.
"Mr. Penson," she said, "is this you \  Have you
wholly forgotten your own principles? Are you entirely departed from them T Have I not often heard you
say that mercy is a godlike attribute; and that the Creator, having endowed us with fine reasoning faculties, and
various senses by which we may receive pleasure from
outward things, has placed us in a world wherein we find
a variety of objects to gratify those senses; but exercises no further influence over us: on the contrary, that
he leaves us to act for ourselves, and to suffer or be miserable in consequence of our prudent or imprudent conductt Are not these your own words, Mr. Penson 
Are not these your own principles I Why then should
you be angry, past forgiveness, with your son, because
he takes his own way instead of yours to make himself
happy  Has he not always evidenced an aversion for
the pestle and mortar. Why should you force him back
to it T Why should you renounce him because his taste
is dissimilar to your own 1"
I made Mrs. Seymour no answer; but, turning abruptly to Mrs. Penson, "Has any money," I asked,
" been lately paid into yours or your son's hands I-any
large sum, I mean, by any of my customers I"
Mrs. Penson had been in the habit of sometimes receiving money for me and giving receipts.




398               EMANCIPATION.
She replied, that thirty pounds had been paid the day
before, for which she had given a receipt.
" And where is that money'" I asked.
"I left it with my son," she replied, tremblingly 
"and I understood that he had given it to you. He has
often been intrusted to give you money which has been
received."
Mr. Johnson and Mrs. Seymour here interfered, and
begged me to look no further into this part of the affair;
stating that my son's character would be for ever gone,
if this part of the business were known.
I could make no reply; I sunk upon a chair; and my
groans were so loud that the servant-maids were alarmed,
and put their heads in at the parlour-door to ascertain if
some one was not very ill. Certain however it was that
my unhappy son had robbed me, and was gone; and the
reason he gave me for thus leaving me was, that I had
struck him. Unhappy young man! had I corrected him
sooner, had I made him feel that I would be master while
he was yet in tender infancy, all this misery might have
been spared him. But, alas! the evil which was done
could not now be remedied. And such was my pride,
that, after the first burst of agony was over, I made light
of the matter; and even gave out that, as I did not find my
son suited for my profession, I had provided a situation
for him at a distance. And this story I told at the
Woodhouse; and though I was not believed, yet, there,
as well as in other places, it had the effect of preventing any expressions of pity or condolence, which I
dreaded to hear from any one.
In the mean time I thought it best to permit Bessy to
come out of her room; and I rather hesitated whether
it would be prudent to urge her to extremes by pressing
upon her the marriage she professed to dislike. At the
same time, I was very much hurt by her behaviour when
she joined us again; and once or twice, when I hinted
my wish to her that she would stay more at home, she
was very impertinent. This impertinence being once
exhibited in the presence of Mr. Johnson, he advised me
to forbid her going out, excepting in company of her
mother or with Mrs. Seymour; informing me that he
had observed she was very fond of going to Mr. Rickets's,
who had an only son of nearly her own age, to whom
he suspected she was attached,
I told Mr. Johnson, that, as Mr. Rickets was an hon



EMANCIPATION.               399
ourable man, and in good circumstances, and as his
son also bore a very good name, I thought Bessy might
do worse, and I would not interfere in the affair. But
Mr. Rickets was a declared opposer of Mr. Johnson's
party; and therefore, though I could not be induced to
take any steps which might preclude the meetings between these two young people, yet Mr. Johnson so
worked on Mrs. Penson, that she took care to break off
the acquaintance, and would never suffer her daughter
to go anywhere without her, but to Mrs. Seymour's.
While things were in this state, it was brought to my
knowledge that Roger, who was an apprentice, had assisted to get my son's clothes out of the house, and had
committed one or two other offences against strict
honesty, of such a nature as would have entitled him to
a severe punishment, that is, if the law had had its
course.
When I found these things out, I was exceedingly
angry, and was determined to bring the boy to trial:
not that I had any wish or expectation of seeing him
hanged, but I really did hope that he would be made to
feel; and was about to take measures to this effect,
when Mr. Johnson and the ladies all attacked me, Mrs.
Seymour making the first assault. She began by stating
that the poor boy was an orphan, wholly dependent on
me; that he had been four years in my family; that his
prospects were ruined for ever if I made the affair public; that public punishments had lately been found to
promote the increase of crime; that severity led to
deceit; that man, in the present condition of society,
could only be governed by reason; that the present
state of the march of intellect would no longer admit
of those arbitrary regulations by which kingdoms in a
more savage state were kept in order; and that, if I not
only would forgive the boy, but allow him a little pocketmoney, and a few more indulgences, she would answer
for his future good conduct, as she had much influence
over him; he being the first cousin of her footman
Samuel, the young man who had been my first patient in
the family.
When Mrs. Seymour ceased to plead, Mr. Johnson,
my wife, and daughter, were all ready to second her
arguments: and the end of this was, that Roger was
called in, told that he was to be forgiven, admonished
to do better in future, and informed that he was to have




400               EMANCIPATION.
sixpence a week for pocket-money, that he might not
be driven to dishonesty for want of a penny. And this
matter being settled agreeably, as Mrs. Seymour said,
to my own liberal principles, Roger was dismissed to his
own quarter of the house, to chuckle at the folly of his
master, and to enjoy the contemplation of the agreeable
reward he was to receive for his various delinquencies.
Thus I was persuaded to go on from one folly to
another; though by this time I more than half suspected
that the new lights of which I had so long boasted were
little better than so many Will-o'-the-wisps, which would
lead all who followed them into bogs and quagmires, from
which they wouldnever help any to extricate themselves.
But I have scarcely patience to proceed narrating the
wretched and low-lived perplexities in which my weakness and folly involved my unhappy family. It was not
three months after the restoration of Roger to favour, that
Bessy became of age; and received into her possession a
hundred pounds, which had been left her by a distant relation of her mother's. And what was the step she took
on finding herself mistress of this hundred pounds I am
ashamed to say; yet truth compels me to say.-On my
giving her some slight offence, she took an opportunity
to run away; and the person she chose for the companion
of her flight was the smart footman of Mrs. Seymourthe cousin of Roger; and no doubt this affair had not
been helped forward a little by the boy whom I had so
weakly pardoned.
Here was an unlooked-for blow; yet, when the thing
was past, my wife recollected a thousand little incidents,
which, had not her mind been turned to other matters,
might have awakened her suspicions, and perhaps prevented the evil.
The naughty girl had managed matters so artfully,
that she could not be traced till after she had been married some weeks. She was then discovered in a mean
lodging, in a large manufacturing town at some distance
from our village. She had wounded my pride too deeply
to allow me to forgive her. I refused to see her; and I
did right: and she would have had nothing to complain of
had I from the first acted consistently with her: but I
had brought her up without respect either for God or
man; I had filled her mind with false notions of the
Deity, and of herself; I had accustomed her to suppose
that the blind obedience which parents require from chil



EMANCIPATION.               401
dren, in infancy, was a thing at once absurd and out of
date; that the Almighty was weakly merciful; that no one
man had a right to control another in matters which did
not immediately concern himself; and that it was a godlike attribute to forgive offences, and to heap kindness
on the offender, without even exacting a change of feelings or of habits in that offender. I had also taught her
that it was cruel to exercise any thing like discipline
over a faithless wife, or an undutiful son or daughter, so
long as any hopes remained of reclaiming such a one
by tenderness; and although I had not forgiven my son,
she had not entertained the least doubt that I should be
ready to do so the moment he chose to claim my pardon. She was, therefore, quite astonished when I gave
her notice that I would not see her if she offered to
come to our village; and equally so when she was informed, through Mrs. Seymour, that I would allow her
twenty pounds a year, but only on condition that neither
she nor her husband ever appeared before me, or was
seen in the parish.
My mind, which had been gradually opening to the
errors-not to say the wickedness-of my past life, was
at this time in a degree of trouble which I cannot describe. I was made to see my sins in an awful light by
their consequences-the ruin of my children-my unhappy children. I saw, too, that the present misery of
my wife was owing to my conceited folly. Had I admitted her to my friendship and confidence when we
first married, from how many follies and mistakes might
I have preserved her!
In all these sad reflections, but one consoling thought
remained; and that was, my little Sarah, now thirteen
years of age, was as yet uninjured-she had been brought
up in innocence and simplicity-and she might yet be a
comfort and honour to her unhappy parents.
Though I had not followed William  when he ran
away, I had used every means, and employed every
friend I had, to trace the steps of Bessy; but, as I before
said, did not find her till it was too late, and till she had
been actually married several days.'I did not then see
her; but, having ascertained her situation, 1 came home
immediately; and there, being seized with a violent
fever, was confined by illness so long, and recovered so
slowly, that I was compelled to take an assistant for a
term of years.




402               EMANCIPATION.
Thus was a considerable part of my gains cut off;
and I was ashamed to look my father and mother, or my
brother, in the face; neither could I contemplate their
two fine and hopeful sons without a degree of anguish
which it is not in my power to depict: and at one time,
my sufferings both of body and mind were so acute that
I became delirious; and in my delirium called vehemently for my parents and my brother.
They were immediately sent for; and were in the
more haste to come, as I had before refused to see
them; under the idea that they would triumph over me
in my misfortunes. I knew them  immediately, and
begged my parents' pardon for all my undutiful conduct;
and, stretching out my arms to Robert, I said, " 0 that
I had cultivated your friendship!-that I had not despised my brother!-that I had not counted myself
among the wise ones of the earth! that I had not believed the present generation to be wiser than all which
had gone before!-that I had not vainly supposed that
new light could be thrown on those eternal truths which
were taught by inspiration, ere yet our fathers or our
fathers' fathers had seen the light of day!" I then wandered from the subject; and raved about my children, and
called them my lost and ruined ones; neither could I
be persuaded, for a while, but that they were both dead.
In this wretched and bewildered state I remained' till
the fever left me; and, as soon as it was possible, I was
removed to the Woodhouse; where the best chamber in
the house was allotted for my use; and my little Sarah
was appointed to be my nurse, under the direction of my
mother and sister-in-law; my wife being obliged to remain at home, to direct, as well as lay in her power, the
new assistant in the management of the business. Poor
woman! what must have been her sufferings at that
time! being parted from all her children, and groaning,
as she did, under the same blows which had reduced me
almost to the gates of death.
But, as I was saying, my little Sarah was my constant attendant at that time; and I very well remember
a conversation which I had with this child, one Sunday
evening, when most of the family were at church, which
made a deep and lasting impression on my mind. She
began by saying, " Father, shall I read to you T I have
here the Bible, and the Pilgrim's Progress;" and she
mentioned one or two more books




EMANCIPATION.                403
"Dear child," I answered, " I cannot attend to reading: I can think of nothing but of your miserable brother
and sister."
The tears came into her eyes, and she answered,
"Cannot any thing be done for them, father."
"Nothing! nothing!" I answered: "they are both
ruined, and ruined by me, because I did not restrain them
when they were children."
" Something might yet be done for them, father," she
answered: "we might pray for them; and if we pray
in our Lord Jesus Christ's name, and for his sake, our
heavenly Father will hear us."
" I am not fit to pray, Sarah," I said.
"Then, father, you might ask our Saviour to intercede
for you," she replied.
This was a new idea to me; and I asked her what she
meant.
"Our Saviour is man as well as God, you know,
father," she answered; " and, as mediator, and our
friend and brother, he has prayed the Father for us: and
his continued intercessions will be heard."
"How do you know this, Sarah 1" I asked.
She immediately showed me 1 Tim. ii. 5-" For there
is one God, and one mediator between God and men,
the man Christ Jesus;" and 1 John ii. 1-" We have an
advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous."
I held the book in my hand, and was lost in meditation;
while my little girl, looking upon me with innocent glee,
said, " Is it not so, father T have not we got a Friend to
pray for us who will do better than we can? My aunt
often tells me, when I do not feel in a state of mind to
pray, to go into my room, and ask my dear Saviour to
pray for me; and it makes me very happy when I do
so."
" Happy!" I repeated; " are you ever unhappy,
Sarah T"
" Sometimes," she replied, " when I cannot do wellwhen I cannot love God; and that often happens. My
heart is very wicked."
I asked her what she meant by her heart being wicked
-a question which seemed to surprise her; and she replied, " All our hearts are wicked; are they not, father V"
I asked her how she knew that.
On which, she showed me Jer. xvii. 9.-" The heart




404               EMANCIPATION.
is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked:
who can know it 1"
" You seem," I said, "to turn to the Bible on every
subject, Sarah."
She looked more surprised than ever, and said, " Does
not every Christian do so, father! My aunt tells me
that we may find rules for every thing in the Bible; and
she also says, that when people desert the Bible, to
make out rules for themselves, they become puzzled
and confused, and sometimes quite mistake what is
right and what is wrong, and often, the more clever
they think themselves, the more foolish they become."
" Did she mention to you the name of any particular
person who has done this, Sarah?" I inquired.
" No," she replied, " she mentioned no particular person; but only told me, that if I grew conceited, and
thought that my own opinion was better than the law of
God, I should soon prove myself to be a fool."
" True; very, very true, Sarah," I said; " and she might
have told you that your father has been that fool to
whom she alluded: for I have not only despised the
Bible, but all those persons who drew their wisdom
from the Bible, and their authority from God; and I
have ruined your brother and sister." I could restrain
myself no longer; I burst into tears as I spoke; for I
was very weak; and poor little Sarah mingled her tears
with mine.
From that day, it pleased God so to work upon my
heart, that I began to look upon my former life, and all
my former false, conceited, and absurd opinions, with
the horror and contempt which they well deserved. I
was made to see that all these false opinions had been
built upon an erroneous view of the nature of man. The
Bible tells us that " the heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked;" but the promoters of
the liberal system, and the proclaimers of the march of
intellect, tell us that man is good by nature; and that it
is to the unwise and tyrannical measures of government,
and the want of education, that we must attribute all the
miseries we see in the world: and in agreement with
this idea I had acted. I had taken my views of God and
his government from my own vain conceptions; I had
despised all authorities, even that most sacred of all
delegated authorities, namely, the parental one; and, in




EMANCIPATION.               405
the disobedience to my own parents which I had displayed before the eyes of ny children, I set them the
example of rebellion to my authority: and I had done
more; in the abundance of my folly, and in the spirit of
my absurd liberality, I had not guarded my privileges as
a husband, as a master of a family, and a member of the
church as established by government; and had allowed
persons of principles dissimilar to my own to obtain influence in my family, and even to have a voice in my
private consultations and domestic arrangements. But
I had been made to suffer; and my sufferings were prolonged, through the mercy of God, till I had renounced
for ever, I trust, all my absurd and impious notions, and
until my rebellious will had been brought entirely under
the control of that of the Almighty.
In the mean time I recovered my health, and returned
to my house, leaving my little Sarah in the happy home
where she had ever been; and, from that time, I and
my wife (though, alas! in some respects too late) did
all that in us lay to comfort each other, and to consult
each other's happiness. Mr. Johnson soon ceased to
visit us, when he found that the church and the state
were united again within our domicile-by which my
reader must understand, that the man and his wife were
again of one mind, and were resolved to uphold each
other; for it can only be states and houses divided
against themselves into which the enemy can ever hope
to gain admittance. I also failed not (God being my
helper) to seek, repeatedly, the pardon of my parents;
and to make up to them, as much as in me lay, the loss
they had sustained by my long course of rebellion and
disobedience: and then, and not till then, did my wife
and I begin to derive benefit from the friendship of my
brother and his wife. I consulted Robert about my poor
lost Bessy; telling him, that, for Sarah's sake, I thought
it was still my duty to refuse to see her. He agreed
with me in this; but, as I could well afford it, he engaged me to increase her allowance to thirty pounds a
year; undertaking, most kindly, to look after her affairs,
and to give her the best advice of which he was capable. From that time, he never mentioned her name to
me; though, at the seasons when I paid the allowance,
he generally gave me such hints as he thought would
administer comfort to me; assuring me, that, should her
health fail, or any other circumstance call for my per



406                EMANCIPATION.
sonal interference, he would give me timely notice.
But I never knew, during all that time, where my poor
child resided; and this was also kept a secret, by my
desire, from Mrs. Penson; for I felt, that while Sarah
was unmarried, we could not show too decided a displeasure at the conduct of Bessy.
In the mean time, I knew that my unhappy daughter
was in better hands than mine; and I endeavoured to
be as easy about her as possible. But I had many sad
hours, and many, many bitter feelings, respecting my
elder children: for years passed away, and I heard
nothing of my poor boy; but I forgot all his undutiful
conduct, and thought of him only as he was in his infancy; distressing myself frequently with the reflection
of what he might have been had I acted the part of a
Christian father to him. Nor were these reflections
the least of my miseries. 0 how often, during that
time, did I utter the exclamation of David, crying, " Oh,
Absalom! my son, my son!"
And who could deny that I deserved all this suffering,
and more than this T I am well assured that I did not
receive one chastisement too much; for all was necessary to bring me to a sense of my sin; neither would
any of these troubles have availed in the least to my
reformation, had not the divine blessing been shed upon
these afflictive dispensations. I was, indeed, as grass
shorn and cut down to a level with the dust; but I should
also have withered, as grass cut down, had not the dew
of heaven descended upon me, and occasioned the
withered blade to spring again.
It was during this period that circumstances led me
to a consideration of the nature of our Episcopal church,
on which I had formerly looked with such infinite contempt; and then I perceived that, notwithstanding there
might be some little things connected with it which we
might reasonably wish otherwise, yet that, taken as a
whole, in its Liturgy, its Articles, its various forms and
ordinances, man had never been able to produce a system at once so noble, so simple, so useful, and so happily conformed to Scripture. "And this," I said, " is
the nursing-mother whom I have despised, and taught
my children to despise! this is the mother whom I have
hated, neglected, and endeavoured to despoil!" And,
on remembering these things I have often wept like an
infant, crying, " My Father!" I was then brought to




EMANCIPATION.                407
see the beauty and consistency of our holy religion;
and to observe how my errors of faith had, in a considerable degree, arisen from a false view of the divine
attributes.
In common with many other pragmatical persons, I
had formed an ideal deity to myself, as totally different
from the God of Scripture as Mahomet is unlike to
Christ. The god of my folly was a supposed indulgent
parent; paying little regard to the proceedings of his
children, so long as they transgressed not certain
bounds; which, by-the-by, were always regulated by
my own pleasure: but, when I came to examine the
character of the Deity by Scripture, I discovered at
once, to my utter dismay, that he is a God of purer eyes
than to behold iniquity; one, in fact, that cannot tolerate sin; and one who, from the perfection of his nature, cannot pass over the slightest transgression without regard to justice or atonement.
The incapacity of the Deity (to speak after the manner of men) to overlook sin without departing from the
perfection of his nature, was, accordingly, the truth
which, being strongly fixed upon my mind, by the divine
blessing, conducted me to the knowledge of other doctrines of true religion; for how could I rest under the
impression of being continually beneath the eye of a
perfectly just God, unless I had some means of appeasing his justice! I was not so ignorant of myself as to
think it possible I could, by any efforts of my own, render myself acceptable in the view of perfect holiness;
nor was I so absurd as to expect that if I could not find
help and comfort in Christ, there was any prospect of
obtaining it through any other mediator proposed by
man.
To Christ then I turned my attention; and by the divine blessing on the study of Scripture, and the Articles
of.our church, the truth of the Holy Trinity was unfolded to me in all its glory, and all became plain and
satisfactory to my mind: while the whole system of
revelation was developed to me with increased beauties
and glory.
My creed was then fixed; which may thus be stated:
There is one God, eternal, infinitely holy, just, and merciful, omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. This
God, even the Lord Jehovah, cannot change; nor can
aught be added to or deducted from, his infinite perfec



408                EMANCIPATION.
tions. In this one glorious Essence there are three
Persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
These three Persons are called first, second, and third,
in reference to the parts they take in the work of man's
salvation. Man, having been made in innocence, corrupted himself through the malice of Satan, and rendered himself the heir of everlasting damnation. But
his Father and Creator, having foreseen his fall before
the foundation of the world, planned, in his infinite wisdom, a means whereby he should not only be set at
liberty from the bondage of Satan, but be infinitely elevated in the scale of beings; and rendered more gloriously happy and blessed, in proportion to the guilt and
misery in which he had been sunk; for where sin abounded,
grace hath much more abounded.
I was further taught, that, in accordance with this
everlasting purpose, God the Father had chosen from
the mass of mankind, multitudes past all calculation to
be rescued from destruction, and made heirs of glory.
But inasmuch as (from the necessity of the divine nature) this could not be done, and mercy flow to us, till
divine justice should receive satisfaction, God the Son
descended from heaven within the four thousandth year
of the world; and, uniting the two natures of God and
man, fulfilled the moral law, and bore its penalties; and
not only obtained our justification by his obedience and
death, but through his infinite merit entitled believers to
the enjoyment of everlasting glory. Thus God incarnate not only obtained for all who believe in him, and
all, in fact, who do not reject his offers of mercy, eternal happiness in the world to come, but also entitled
them in this world to the precious benefits conferred
by the teaching of the Holy Spirit-that sacred Person
of the adorable Trinity who has, in his infinite mercy,
taken upon himself to call, to regenerate, to sanctify,
and finally to glorify, all such as have been predestinated
to salvation by God the Father.
Such is the outline of the creed which, through the
divine blessing on the study of the Word of God, and
the conversation of my brother, I was led to adopt soon
after my misfortunes and my illness; and I do thank
God that my opinions from  that period have never
varied in any one essential point.-But to return to my
narrative.
Sarah was thirteen at the time of the marriage of




EMANCIPATION.               409
poor Bessy; and the next eight years were to me a
period of deep distress, though, no doubt, they were the
most blessed years of my life. What a change passed
on me during that time-a blessed change 1 trust! for I
then was taught to hate and loathe myself more, if possible, than I had ever admired and loved myself. The
character of my wife, too, seemed, through the power
of religion, to be entirely changed; and I was led to
wonder how I could have lived so long with her without
having understood her better, or loved her more.
The assistant I had taken, when I was very ill, had
remained with me four years; and afterward, having
taken my brother's second son into the shop, he proved
a real comfort to me after my assistant left me; and
from that period indeed he never left me, excepting
when he went to London to finish his studies.
Dear Sarah remained at the Woodhouse, for I never
would hear of her being removed; and I was never
more pleased than when my brother asked her of me
for his eldest son. We had all seen that these young
people were attached for some years to each other,
and therefore were not surprised at the request. The
marriage, however, was put off a year on account of
the death of my poor father; and as my mother was
almost childish, and excessively fond of Sarah, we
thought it would be cruel to part them, and it was agreed
that George and his wife should still live with their parents; a plan which has been found to answer in my
brother's family, though not generally, I think, to be
recommended.
Sarah was in her twenty-second year when the wedding-day was fixed. It was the sixteenth of May, and
happened to be remarkably fine weather.
It was not a very busy time with me, and things so
fell out that I could allow myself twenty-four hours or
more of holyday on the occasion; my nephew having
most dutifully insisted on returning to the shop immediately after the ceremony; which I esteemed as a great
kindness, for I much desired to make one of the happy
bridal party; who, after the wedding-breakfast, were to
take a little excursion, and not to return till the noon of
the next day.
The marriage took place at the parish church soon
after eight in the morning; and the party consisted of
my mother, my brother and sister, myself, and my wife
VOL. V.-S




410               EMANCIPATION.
the bride and bridegroom of course, and my younger
nephew; not to omit a little fair girl named Lucy How-.
ard, who was bridemaid, and who was all innocent delight on the occasion. This little girl is now my niece,
being married to my second nephew.
From the church we came to my house, where we
had breakfast; and then my mother went home, while
we proceeded in a hired coach to the place where we
were to spend the day.
There is in our neighbourhood a famous ruin, near to
which is a good inn, which I thought would be a very
proper place for us on this occasion; but Sarah insisted
on spending the day at a rural inn on the borders of the
same extent of woodlands in which the Woodhouse is
built, and just on the verge of the park of the same nobleman whose tenant my brother is, as much as four or five
miles from the Woodhouse. I had seen this inn several
times: it is a large black timbered building, having the
high road and the park in front of it; and behind it a
dingle, and the woods; a very pretty place, assuredly,
but very much out of the way, I thought, for a bridal
party. But Sarah had set her mind upon this plan; and
if ladies are ever to pursue their own plans, surely it
ought to be on their wedding-day.
Well, into the coach we all got, to the number of
six, and as merry a party we were as ever met; for I
tried to conceal any painful reminiscences I might have
on that happy day; my brother and sister were the gayest of the gay, and their son the most happy looking
being I had ever beheld; and we laughed as we went
along, and talked nonsense; yet, from time to time,
some pious expression of gratitude to God would drop
from the mouth of one present; and the tears would
tremble in every eye, and these again were chased away
by the smiles of innocent joy.
Most of our way lay through woods, and it was
scarcely noon when we arrived at our inn. Dinner had
been ordered for us; and I remember that roast lamb
and green pease made part of our regalement; and
while it was getting ready we rambled in what directions we chose, two or more together. At two we met,
and dined in a large low parlour, with casement windows, and hung round with rudely coloured engravings
of the Prodigal Son.
The story of the Prodigal Son was a very affecting




EMANCIPATION.                411
one to me at that time; but every one was careful not
to make any remarks on these prints.
We did not sit long after dinner, my sister Ellen having proposed a walk to a lodge at a very small distance
from the inn, which she said opened into the park, and
was reported to be one of the most beautiful structures
of the kind which had ever been seen in the country.
Having desired that tea should be ready for us on our
return, we all set out, taking our course under a sort of
avenue, formed on one side by the trees of the park, and
on the other by the skirts of the wood. We started together, but soon dropped off in pairs, my companion
being my sister Ellen; the little bridemaid making excursions tn several directions; pleading for her excuse
that she had no companion but an old dog of mine which
I had cherished till he had not a tooth in his head,
because when very young he had belonged to poor
William.
My sister Ellen was always a remarkably pleasant,
lively companion, in an agreeable way: yet I could not
help observing, as we walked along, that she became
absent, and that more than once she scarcely heard me
when I addressed her. " Well," I thought, " it is natural; joy absorbs the thoughts, no doubt, as powerfully as
grief. "
At length the gates of the park appeared, and close to
them, within the park, the roof of the lodge. In truth,
it was a very pretty construction; it looked like some
of those toys which ingenious children form of moss
and pasteboard. I shall describe it as it appeared to me
when arrived in full view of it. It was a thatched cottage of one floor, having a centre apartment, with a
rural porch in front, and on either side the porch a casement window, pointed, and having its upper compartments filled with stained glass; the roof over the porch
was rounded, and thickly set with thatch. On each side
the centre room were wings terminating with gable
ends, and windows looking to the north towards the
park, and to the south towards the road. These windows were also gothic, and each of these gable ends
contained two rooms. Behind was a kitchen-garden
and small court, and in front was a little portion of,
ground richly planted with roses, eglantines, jasmines,
hyacinths, wall-flowers, polyanthuses, ranunculuses, and
every species of fragrant herb. The wall of this edi.
S2




412               EMANCIPATION.
fice was rough-cast, and coloured, to resemble stone,
and the wood-work was painted green. Some of the
windows were almost overgrown with the luxuriant
branches of odoriferous creepers.  The view  commanded by some of the windows of this cottage must,
no doubt, have been beautiful in the extreme; for the
glimpses I had through the openings of the trees, even
from the high road, of the various lovely natural objects
were enchanting.
But my reader will ask, "WWhat is all this to me? is
the doctor becoming sentimental and poetical in his old
age T WVhat have we to do with the beauties of nature
and ornamented cottages. Had he not better stay at
home and mind his shop " —Well, then, we will have no
more descriptions, but proceed with our walk.
The bride and bridegroom, who had walked first,
stopped for us when they had reached the gate of the
park; and we came up just as they had made themselves
heard by the persons within the lodge, for the next moment, the door was opened, and two little girls, apparently of the same age (being perhaps about six years
old), came quickly forward; and passing through the
green wicket of the garden, stood before us on the other
side of the gate. One held a key, but made no attempt to
apply it to the lock; on the contrary, they both stood
courtesying, and blushing, and appearing evidently
alarmed at the party without.
" What pretty creatures!" exclaimed our merry little
bridemaid: on which she was gently reproved by my
sister Ellen; who seldom lost sight of propriety and
prudence. Yet I could not help saying to my sister, in
a low voice, "Those children are as remarkable, of
their kind, as their habitation is. What little delicate
beings! and how nicely they are dressed, in their pinkstriped frocks! how fair and lovely they are! and what
brilliant eyes they have! But, my little maids," I said,
addressing them, " are we to stand here all day, looking
at your pretty faces through the bars of this gate 
Will you not open to us T"
"Mary can't unlock the gate, sir," replied one of the
little fair ones, with a low courtesy and a deep blush.
"Then let the other try," I replied.
"Ellen can't unlock the gate, sir," replied the other,
courtesying and blushing in her turn.
" Come, come," said my brother, laughing: " we will




EMANCIPATION.                413
soon settle that: give us the key, and let us see what
we can do."
The key was immediately handed through the bars,
and we found ready admittance.  "And now," said
Robert, "show us the way to your house, little damsels: you must go first, lest we should lose ourselves."
The two little ones then, taking each other's hands,
walked before us through the green wicket up to the
porch, which, by-the-by, like that of a Mahometan temple, was nearly as large as all the rest of the house besides; and the door being already open, we were introduced into a roomy kitchen, paved with square flags,
neatly whitewashed, and in every respect as nice as
hands could make it.  One of the casements was open,
and an eglantine had made its way through it in a most
fantastic style. A fire of wood was burning on the
hearth, and a hissing kettle was hanging over the fire;
but not a living creature was seen within the apartment
but a cat, which, at the sight of my dog, raised her back,
and placed herself in an attitude of self-defence.
"'This is Fairy-land, I suppose," said Lucy Howard;
"for I see no inhabitants in this house, but these two
fairies and their cat."
" Our cat's name is Tippet, ma'am," said one of the
little girls, courtesying very low.
"Is Tippet a fairy too 1" asked Lucy.
" We have got the story of the white cat who was a
fairy," said the other of the little beauties, courtesying
in her turn; " but Tippet is not a fairy."
" Indeed," said Miss Lucy; " are you quite sure?"
"There are no fairies now, ma'am," answered the
first little speaker, laying a very strong stress on the
word ma'am, and courtesying every time she used it;
her little dimpled hands being placed very formally before her.
" Upon my word," I said, "you are the two most delightful and amusing little personages I ever beheld;"
and I made each of them a very low bow, which they
returned in the gravest manner possible by two low
courtesies, which set Lucy laughing again; but I was
surprised at the same time to observe that tears were
in the eyes of Ellen and my daughter.  I however
asked no questions; for my spirits that day were in such
a state that I did not dare to meddle with any thing
which might excite any pathetic or tender feelings.




414               EMANCIPATION.
"But have you not a parlour to show us, little dames."
said Lucy: " where is your parlour."
The little girls immediately moved hand-in-hand to
a door on the left side of the kitchen, and opening it,
we walked into a considerably large sitting-room, on the
northern side of the cottage, in which a window at one
end commanded a view of the park, where the deer
were feeding in various groups. This parlour was hung
with a green paper representing a thick foliage, and set
round with chairs so painted and constructed as to resemble roots of trees; in each corner was an old-fashioned cupboard, painted with some curiously whimsical
devices; and in the centre of the room was a table
covered with a green cloth, on which lay several books,
a flute, and some needlework. There was one thing,
however, which surprised us much-there was an inner
door in this parlour, and the outer door was scarcely
opened, before my dog rushed in, and flew to the inner
door, whining, scratching, and seeming as if he would
have torn up the very floor. The children were frightened at this, and I was surprised; but my nephew drove
him out, and shut the door of the house against him.
When the dog was out we began talking again to the
little girls. " I do like to hear these children talk," said
Lucy, "and to set them  a courtesying, and saying,'ma'am;' I must set them  going again."  And she
turned to them, and said, " Are these your chairs, my
dears?"
" They are our chairs, ma'am," was the answer she
received; the little speaker courtesying low at the same
time.
" Ladies come here and drink tea, ma'am, sometimes,"
said the other little blushing one.
"And sit on these chairs, ma'am," said the first.
"Well then," said my brother, smiling, " I suppose
we may do as the ladies do.  Suppose we were to
seat ourselves, and then we might talk more at our ease.
Come, tell me," he added, drawing the little girls towards him, each by one hand; "what do the ladies do
when they come?"
" They do drink tea, sir," said one.
"They do eat bread and butter, sir," said the other.
"And we have the best china, sir, when they come,"
added the first.




EMANCIPATION.              415
"The china with strawberries on it, sir," said the
second.
"Do the ladies love you V" asked Miss Howard.
" When we are good they do love us," they both answered.
" But you are never naughty, are you i" asked Miss
Howard.
They both blushed at this question, and one answered,
"Nobody is quite good."
"Why, what do you do that is naughty " asked
Lucy.
" That is not a fair question," said my brother;" we
have no right to bring them to confession. See how
the little things blush: their very necks are red. This
is not a polite return for their hospitality."
" But they are such delightful creatures," said Miss
Howard: " I never saw any thing like them: do let me
talk to them. Please to tell me," she then added, "which
of you two is the better girl. I must know."
" Mary is the best," replied one of them.
" No, I am not, Ellen is the best," replied the other;
"but the ladies say we are neither of us good; and
they showed it us in the Bible, and they made us learn
it."
" What did you learn V" asked Lucy; "please to repeat it."
They both answered together,"'Foolishness is bound
in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall
drive it far from him."' Prov. xxii. 15.
" But nobody uses a rod to you, I am sure," said Lucy;
"you never saw a rod, I am certain."
The two little creatures reddened violently on hearing this question, and tears came into their eyes; and
we all felt that Lucy was making too free with them,
and had hurt their feelings; and she felt it herself; for
she got up and kissed them both, and said she would not
talk of such things any more. " But," she added, "now
tell me, do you live here by yourselves? Is there nobody here to take care of you?"
" We must not talk about that," they answered.
" About what?" she asked.
"About our mother," they replied.
"Not about your mother! how strange!" said Miss
Howard. " Why must not you V"
" Because she told us we must not," they answered.




416               EMANCIPATION.
" When did she tell you that V" asked Lucy.
"When she sent us to open the gate."
"But you may tell now about your mother," said my
sister-in-law. And, as quick as thought, she rose up,
and, taking the little girls each by a hand, she led them
to me, and, directing them to kneel down, she said,
" Join your little hands, my darlings, and say,' Please,
grandpapa, see and forgive your penitent and humble
daughter. Please, grandpapa, forgive your own poor
child, our dear, dear mother!"
0 ny reader! conceive, if you can, what T felt when
I beheld these two lovely babes kneeling before me, in
obedience to their aunt, and lifting up their little united
hands, their baby hands, while terror was depicted on
their infant features-for they could not, and did not
understand the affair. Conceive, if you can, what the
feelings of my wife were, whose surprise was equal to
mine on the occasion, as she had not the least suspicion of what was to be the result of our meeting at
this cottage.  I fell back in my chair-I groaned, I was
unable to decide. I looked at the babes, my feelings
were strongly drawn towards them, but I was motionless.
" They have only one parent," said my sister, " their
father has long, long forsaken them; nay, he left your
daughter before these babes saw the light. He can
have no part either in your anger or your forgiveness;
neither do we ask you to restore your daughter to the
place from which she has thrown herself.  We only
ask you to pronounce your forgiveness; to give her
your blessing; and to tell her that you look forward
with hope to a happy reunion with her in that blessed
place where all tears shall be wiped from every eye."
As my sister proceeded, I burst into tears; and, bending forwards, drew up the two little innocent ones into
my arms. This action was interpreted in favour of the
petition; and when I lifted up my eyes again all surcharged with tears, I saw the inner door of the parlour
standing open, and in the doorway two figures, the one
of a female and the other of a middle-aged marn, a little
retired in the background.
In the foremost of these I recognised my poor Bessy
at once; but, probably, more because I was prepared to
see her than from any other circumstance: but I had not
the least recollection of the person who stood near to




EMANCIPATION.              417
her, and should, no doubt, have supposed him to be her
husband, had I not been just informed that he had long
left her. 1 however did not bestow more than a single
glance upon this second person, for my eyes were riveted on my daughter. But 0, how entirely changed,
how altered was my child! how suddenly passed away,
as I looked upon her, the hope I had before entertained,
in spite, as it were, of my reason, of seeing her blooming
and lovely in person as 1 remembered her to be formerly!
for Bessy once was a very pretty girl. But she who now
appeared to me was sallow and broken down; and
dressed, though neatly indeed, in a very humble style, with
no pretensions to any thing of the lady in her manners;
her person, too, was much sunk; and she looked some
years older than she ought to have done. She stood
trembling with her eyes fixed upon me, with that sort
of imploring look which a criminal uses towards a
severe judge; while all the rest of the party had
gathered behind me, leaving the space clear between
me and the offender, with the exception only of my
wife, who had sunk upon a chair by my side, and was
weeping audibly.
A minute or perhaps more elapsed before I could
speak. At length I pronounced the name of Bessy;
and at the same instant being admonished by a sign from
my brother (as I afterward learned), she came trembling forwards, and with her the man before mentioned.
And then, agitated as I was, I first discovered that this
poor man had lost a limb, and was halting on a stump
affixed to the knee. But they both advanced and knelt
at some short distance from me, as if they dared not
come nearer; and I heard some broken words, amid
which I distinguished, " Father-father-pardon-pity
-forgiveness-we have offended."  I arose, and in
rising pushed away the little twins, but stood fixed to
the spot; my eyes being riveted on the man who knelt
by my daughter. A poor, low person, I thought him.
He was clad in very coarse garments, though he was
perfectly clean. He had a sort of shabby military air,
and wore a stiff black stock upon his neck; his features
elongated and emaciated; his mouth was disfigured by
a broad gash, which had probably been made by a sabre;
while his complexion was sunburnt and weather-beaten,
like one who had been long exposed to every variety of
intemperate climate.
S3




418                EMANCIPATION.
Such was the person who knelt by Bessy, and he
seemed as deeply concerned as she could be in the result of the next word which I should utter; for his
eyes were brim-full of tears, and some drops had already
strayed down his rough cheek.  Yet, intently as I
looked upon him, I had not the smallest recognition of
his person, and was ready to ask, "Who are you, who
thus dare to intrude upon our retirement 1" when my
brother whispered the name of William; and the next
moment I had fallen forward into the arms of my two
children, weeping on their bosoms more like an infant
than a man who had weathered so many storms of life.
I can recollect nothing from the time when, stooping
to embrace my children, I had fallen forward into their
arms; neither could I define my feelings, or say what
they were, when, recovering my recollection and composure, I was enabled to look again upon my altered
Bessy, and still more altered William. 0 what a conflict then took place within my breast, of tenderness,
remorse, pity, and shame! Where was the once selfsufficient, handsome youth, who used to grace my shop t
where was my once blooming, sparkling, gay, and
saucy Bessy    Till that very day, nay, till that very
hour, I had always thought of them as they were when
I last saw them. 0 what a revulsion; what a violent
and sudden change, was there now in my ideas and
views respecting them! There was a degree of humility, contriteness, and tenderness in their aspects
which was touching in the extreme.  Bessy was no
longer in appearance more than a sort of decent cottager; and poor William was completely fallen, in manners and deportment, into the rank of those with whom
he had associated for the last eight or nine years;
namely, the private soldiers, or, at best, the sergeants,
of a marching regiment.  For, as I was afterward informed, when he left me, he had hastened to the nearest
seaport town, where, having soon spent all his money in
riot and dissipation, he had enlisted into a regiment just
embarking for foreign service, and had endured inconceivable hardships, until he lost a leg in the field of
battle, and also received a severe wound upon the lip.
In looking upon my son especially, I felt that, much
as I loved him, it would be totally impossible for me to
restore him to the rank from which he had fallen; and,
no doubt, the perplexed state of my feelings was ob



EMANCIPATION.                 419
served by my brother, who, in his usually kind and
cheerful way, said, "Come, my friends, I think it is
time to put an end to this scene. I hope, niece, that
you are provided with some person to whom you can
trust the keys of your house and your gate for a few
hours: you must get yourself ready forthwith, and follow us, with your brother and the two little fairies, to
the inn; and we will have one happy evening together."
And, so saying, he took my arm, and adding that he
wished to speak alone with me, he led me out of the
house into the park; and there we had a long conversation.
He informed me, that Lady  -  (that is, the mother
of his landlord, the nobleman in whose park we then
were) had assisted him, from  the very first, in his
management of poor Bessy's affairs; that, after my
daughter's husband had forsaken her, this excellent lady
had placed her in some situation on her jointure land,
which is in Yorkshire; and that, within a few weeks,
she had brought her to the beautiful lodge where she
then resided; "where," added Robert, " she lives rent
free; and the pious old lady and her daughter-in-law
often call upon her, lending her books, and directing her
in the management of her lovely little girls. And the
blessing of God, my dear brother," continued he, " has
been shed upon the various endeavours of these noble
ladies with your poor daughter: for Bessy is now as
humble a Christian character as I ever knew; and she
will be perfectly content, now that she has received her
parents' forgiveness. But we have all agreed, and the
ladies at the Hall are of the same opinion, that she
should be left where she is, and not be again introduced
into the society from which she is fallen, and for which
she has rendered herself unfit. She will be very happy
in her cottage, where her duties lie; and if once or
twice a year we have a family-meeting in this place,
our natural affection will be kept up, without doing any
violence to the established customs and opinions of
society.  Neither," he added, "do we wish that poor
William should be brought back to your house. lie has
wholly lost the habits which would fit him for it, and he
does not desire it; on the contrary, he shrinks from
the idea. But he wishes to live here with his sister;
and he will find much pleasant employment in the large
garden which is behind the house, and in instructing his




420                EMANCIPATION.
little nieces; for he writes a good hand, and knows a
good deal of some other things: and what (though I
mention it last) is better than all, I verily believe that
he is a true penitent, and, in one word, a converted
character; for, when he came back to us, he had in his
knapsack a well-worn Bible, which his sister tells me
has been his constant companion ever since. He has
a small pension," continued Robert; " and, with what
you allow his sister, they will do very well."
"And they shall do better still," I added; "I will
certainly make poor William's income equal to his
sister's, as long as he behaves well. And may God
bless my children, and give us many a happy meeting
with them in this place! for I admire their delicacy in
not wishing to be set on a footing with their unoffending
sister; and I thank them for it, and shall take account
of it. And now tell me whose scheme was it to bring
us all together this day V"
"My wife's and your daughter's," replied Robert,
smiling. " They would have it so: it has been long
planned-ever since Bessy came into the country; and
my little twin nieces were kept out of the way whenever we visited poor Bessy, that they might act their
parts in perfect simplicity. But we little thought,
when we formed our plan, that poor William would have
his place in our drama. He came, poor fellow, to the
Woodhouse three weeks since; but none of the servants
knew him; and we got him away unsuspected."
I could not help smiling at this innocent contrivance
of our fair relations, and said, " I shall remember them
for this trick." But what man can anticipate the devices of the fair sex?
Was it any lingering remnant of natural pride which
made me feel relieved when I found it was not expected
of me to introduce my poor children again to my neighbours, or was it merely a sense of propriety. Certainly I was relieved when this dread was removed;
and my brother and I were just turning about to leave
the park, and to follow the rest of our party, who had
already set out for the inn, when a little pony-carriage,
containing two ladies, came out from beneath a grove,
and approached us. "There are poor Bessy's best
friends," said my brother, " the excellent Ladies — "
The carriage drew near, and was stopped, while the
elder of the two ladies addressed my brother. "We




EMANCIPATION.               421
are glad to see you here, Mr. Penson," she said: " I
trust that all has succeeded to your wishes. May we
congratulate you on your son's happiness, and in the
completion of the blessed work of reconciliation which
was to crown this day "
"Your ladyship may rejoice with us on both accounts," replied my brother.
" God be praised!" returned the pious lady: then looking at me, " I suppose," she added, " that I now see the
elder Mr. Penson V" and she paid me a compliment on
the act of forgiveness which I had just performed; and
assured me that she and her daughter would have a
watchful eye upon my children, and would do all in their
power to serve them.
The carriage passed on before I could express my
feelings in any other way than by the most profound
reverence.
When my brother and I came opposite the lodge, we
found that our friends had already set out; an old woman being stationed at the gate to lock it after us.
When we entered on the road we saw the whole party
before us; and the appearances of my newly-found children struck me again in a manner which I cannot describe. Bessy looked not a bit better than a decent cottager in her Sunday-dress; and poor William's figure,
as he limped along with his wooden leg, his shapeless
hat, and his sort of homespun coat, was even more strikingly pitiable. The dog was following his steps. The
contrast of these figures with the gay bridal-party was
at the same time so singular, that I no sooner observed
it than I laughed aloud in a way most painful to me. I
immediately checked myself, and then felt almost disposed to burst into tears. I could not conceal my agitation from my brother, but said, " Oh, Robert, Robert 1
look at that poor fellow there, and see the punishment
of my pragmatical self-conceit. I was wiser, forsooth,
than all who had ever gone before me. I must be for
striking out new ways, and enacting new laws, and outarguing Solomon himself; and see what I have made of
it. Look at my son, and look at yours.  See how
blessed, how happy your George is, with his lovely
young bride; while all the prospects of earthly prosperity are passed away already from before my poor,
poor William. Lord, have mercy on all those who, formaking the fountain of living waters, have hewed out to




422               EMANCIPATION.
themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no
water."
My brother endeavoured to comfort me, and to show
me that all was for the best; and that all which had
happened had been wonderfully overruled for the good
of my children. And so well did he argue, that before
we arrived at the inn I was composed, and able to sit
down with a smiling countenance to the refreshments
which were prepared.
And now my wife and I had full leisure to examine
and caress our charming little grandchildren; and it was
with the greatest pleasure that I found they were entirely submissive to the will of their mother. As to my
wife, I verily thought she would have turned childish,
such was her delight in these little lovely creatures.
After our repast, my brother asked the company if
they had any objections to reading and prayer.
"None in the world," I replied, speaking for the rest;
"and permit me, dear brother, to choose our subject,
viz. the first seven verses of the third chapter of the
Second Epistle to Timothy:-"
" This know also, that in the last days perilous times
shall come.  For men shall be lovers of their own
selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, di-)bedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, truce-breakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce,. despisers of those that are good, traitors,
heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure more than lovers
of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the
powerthereof: from such turn away. For of this sort
are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly
women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts, ever
learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of
the truth."
My brother, having read these few verses, closed the
book and turned to me, supposing that I had some remarks to make. Neither was he mistaken; for I took
the occasion, first, to observe, that, by the latter times,
in all probability, was meant the present period, as every
thing tended to show that things were pressing towards
their end; and I then pointed out how the verses my
brother had read were applicable to the present day; in
which men, despising all those who had gone before
them, and all the wholesome rules and customs of their
forefathers, are for establishing a new order of things,