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TliE r-;ZV/ YORK '' 
PUBLIC LIBRARY 



A?TOR, LENOX 
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS 



MARK STEAD MAN; 



OR, 



SHOW YOUR COLORS. 



FKOM THE LONDON TKACT SOCIETX. 




PUBLISHED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 



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CONTEJfTS 



CHAPTER I. 
Mark at Home page 5 

CHAPTER n. 
t^aptain Jack 20 

CHAPTER III. 
Captain Jack's Story 34. 

CHAPTER IV. 
Leaving Homo r — 4.9 

CHAPTER V. 
The First Sunday 68 

CHAPTER VI. 
Trials and Encouragements-- 95 

CHAPTER VII. 
A Trial of Principle Ill 



4 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER Vm. 

As i^ ihe Master, so is the Servant ■ 130 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Scarlet Fever 150 

CHAPTER X. 

The Visitor and the Sick Penitent 173 

CHAPTER XL 
The Return Home 198 



• 



MARK STEADMAN; 

OR, 

SHOW YOUR COLORS 



CHAPTEE I. 

Mark at Home. 

The long beams of the afternoon sun 
were streaming down the dusty white 
street of a seaport town in South Wales. 
The heat had driven even those visitors 
who usually astonish the inhabitants of 
such a place as this by their defiance of 
sun and glare, to take refuge in their 
shad}" lodgings. Not a sound therefore 
broke the sleepy silence of the summer 
afternoon, and scarcely a human being 
was to be seen, excepting that at the door 



6 MARK STEADMAN. 

of a small shop in the upper end of the 
street a young lad was standing, who 
every now and then came out upon the 
pavement, and gazed down the street 
towards the sea, as though he were look- 
ing out for some one. 

Over the door of this shop was a board, 
on which was painted the announcement, 

MAEY STEADMAN, 

LICENSED DEALEB IN TOBACCO, SNUFFS, ETC. 

while in the window was displaj^ed an 
array of pipes of every sort and descrip- 
tion, from the well-known sailor's short 
pipe to the most singular productions in 
porcelain, with twisted stems and col- 
ored tassels. 

On a pedestal inside the door stood a 
small individual, who was not only re- 
garded as a very important personage 
in the Steadman family, but was also the 
wonder and admiration of all the chil- 
dren in the town. This was a little fio;- 



MAKK AT HOME. 7 

ure in Highland costume, commonly 
known by the name of Dumbiedikes, 
who held in his hand an enormous mull, 
supposed to contain the best Scotch 
snuff, and from which he appeared to 
invite all the passers-by to take a pinch. 
The young lad who stood in the door- 
way of this shop might have been about 
sixteen years of age, though from his 
height he scarcely looked as much, for 
he was short, but at the same time firmly 
and strongly built. The expression of 
his face did not display any unusual 
intelligence or quickness of perception ; 
it indicated rather a cautious thoughtful- 
ness, accompanied by much quiet deter- 
mination. He did not look like a char- 
acter so likely to gain at starting in the 
race of life as like one who would hold 
out without flagging to the end ; but per- 
haps what was the most remarkable in 
his appearance was, the utter absence of 



8 31ARK STEADMAN. 

all thought of himself, and the perfect 
simplicity and directness exhibited in 
every word and action. 

There was nothing indolent in his atti- 
tude, as he stood thus in the doorway, 
looking every now and then down the 
street; but he appeared to be waiting 
for some one v/ith patient composure, 
rather than merely endeavoring to while 
away the time. 

"Ah, old Dumbiedikes !" exclaimed 
he at last, looking up at the little High- 
lander on the pedestal beside him, "if 
I ever do make a fortune, as Uncle Wat- 
son says, you must have a new coat; 
for I declare you have never had a bit 
of new paint upon you these seven years, 
and it would be hard to say now what 
your colors are." And then the recol- 
lection recurred to his mind that, many 
years ago, when he was quite a little 
boy, his father had once told him, in an- 



MARK AT HOME. 9 

swer to some childish question he had 
asked about the little Highlander, that 
the Scottish clans each wore a dress of 
a particular color and pattern, so that, 
as soon as you saw a man, you could tell 
at once whether he were a Campbell, a 
Lindsay, or a Macgregor, and thus rec- 
ognize in him a friend or foe, and treat 
him accordingly. "And so it is in the 
world, Mark, as you will find some day," 
his father added; "we must carry our 
colors about with us, and not be ashamed 
to show them, in order that folks may 
see at once what we mean, and to which 
side we wish to belong in the great strife 
between God and the devil." 

As Mark was thinking over this, and 
reflecting that the time of which his fa- 
ther had spoken as "some day" was 
now probably come for him, he caught 
sight of a woman in black, walking slowly 
up the street. "There's mother at last," 



10 MARK STEADMAN. 

said he to himself, ''and now I shall hear 
what Uncle Jack -thinks about my going 
to Bristol." 

Mrs. Steadman soon came up, and 
smiled as she looked at her son's ex- 
pectant face ; she said nothing, however, 
but quietly followed him into the house. 

"I have put the kettle on, mother," 
said Mark; "and now while you are 
taking off your things I '11 make the tea, 
and then you can tell me what Uncle 
Jack thinks about it, before the children 
come in." 

Mark then carried the tea-tray with 
the cups and saucers, and the bread and 
butter, info the little parlor at the back 
of the shop, where he set them out as 
neatly as he could upon the table in 
front of the open window, and presently 
his mother again entergd the room. 

"I'm afraid you've had a very hot 
walk, mother," said Mark, as Mrs. Stead- 



MAKE AT HOME. 11 

man took her seat at the table ; "I hope 
you found Uncle Jack at home.'' 

" Yes, my dear," replied she, " fortu- 
nately, he had just come in, and so I 
showed him Mr. Watson's letter ; and 
after turning the matter over in his mind, 
he came to just the same decision as we 
did. He thinks there is no doubt that 
you ought to go ; and he advises that 
you should w^rite to your Uncle Watson 
by to-night's post, thanking him for his 
proposal, and telling him that you will 
hold yourself in readiness to come ae 
soon as he wishes." 

" Yery well, mother," replied Mark, 
"I dare say it's all right. If I don't 
make a fortune, as Uncle Watson proph- 
esies, I may at any rate be able to help 
you more than by staying at home here 
in the shop, now. that Joe is old enough 
to take my place." 

''You see, if Joe was a. strong and 



12 MARK STEADMA.N. 

healthy lad like jou, it would be differ- 
ent," said Mrs. Steadman. "It would 
be more natural then for him to go out 
into something else, and for you, being 
the eldest, to take to the business here ; 
but as it is, you know, he is often fit for 
nothing but to lie by and be nursed, so 
that I should be in constant anxiety if he 
were away from me ; and besides, with 
his health, no one would like to take 
him.'' 

''' No, certainly," said Mark ; "there 's 
no doubt I 'm the one to go, if an}^ one 
does." 

"Yes," replied his mother; "and 
though I shall miss you so much, Mark, 
more than I can tell you, yet I think in 
every Avay this will be a good thing for 
you. Your uncle has made a good deal 
of money in the business ; for I remem- 
ber hearing some years ago, when your 
aunt, your father's sister, was living, 



MAKK AT HOME. 13 

that he was considered a rich, well-to- 
do man, and of course this may be in 
many ways a good thing for you. He 
has no sons, only three little girls, and 
if you get on well with him, you might 
get a share in the business some day. 
Besides, as Uncle Jack says, it's not 
good for any one to spend all his life in 
one place, just among his own family 
and friends, and never to be tried at all, 
so as to see the stuff he 's made of. It 
has been very smooth sailing for you 
hitherto ; you have had nothing to try 
you as yet, my boy." 

"That's true, mother," replied Mark 
thoughtfully. 

" But still," said Mrs. Steadman, "as 
I was saying to Uncle Jack wh^n he be- 
gan to speak of the dangers you 'd be 
likely to meet with in the world, God is 
as much in one place as in another, and 
as able to keep us from falling there as 



14 MARK STEADMAN. 

here ; and I can't think that you, hav- 
ing once begun, as I do hope and trust 
you have, to walk in the narrow way, 
would be for turning back and forget- 
ting all you have heard and felt." 

"I hope not, mother,'' answered Mark ; 
"but I expect it's rather a different 
thing; however, I think I will get the 
letter-case, and write at once to Uncle 
Watson, before the children come in." 

The letter had to be re-written once 
or'twice, for it was to be a specimen of 
Mark's best writing and composition ; 
and before it was finished, Mary and 
Joe Steadman, with the two j^ounger 
children, came in from their walk, so 
that the evening passed away without 
an}' further conversation between Mark 
and his mother over his future prospects. 

Mrs. Steadman had been a widow for 
about six years. Neither she nor her 
husband was a native of South Wales. 



MAEK AT HOME. 15 

but tliey had removed there from South- 
ampton a short time after her marriage. 
On her husband's death, the widow found 
many kind friends around her, by whose 
aid she had been enabled to carry on 
the business, and thus support herself 
and her five children. Of these, Mark 
w^as the eldest; and for the last three 
years he had helped his mother in the 
shop ; but now his younger brother Jo- 
seph was thirteen, and quite able to 
take his place ; and being, moreover, a 
delicate boy, his mother was anxious to 
keep him near her. Something, there- 
fore, had to be found for Mark. Uncle 
Jack had suggested the sea ; but Mark, 
though possessed of some of the quali- 
ties needful to form a good sailor, had 
nol that peculiar passion for a seafaring 
life which is so strong in some boys, and 
which carries them through all its hard- 
ships and dangers. 



16 MAEK STEADilAN. 

In her perplexity, it had occurred to 
Mrs. Steadman to write and ask the ad- 
vice of Mr. "Watson, her husband's broth- 
er-in-law, who had a long-established 
linen drapery business in Bristol. In 
reply to this letter, Mr. Watson had 
proposed to employ Mark in his own 
business for six months on trial ; after 
which, if he went on well, and seemed 
likely to succeed in this kind of employ- 
ment, he offered to provide him with a 
permanent situation. 

It was a subject requiring a good deal 
of consideration before either Mark or 
his mother could decide that it would be 
right to accept this proposal. Mr. Wat- 
son, it was true, was Mark's uncle ; that 
is to say, he had married the sister of 
Mr. Steadman ; but she had been dead 
for some years, so that the relationship 
might almost be said to have dropped ; 
at any rate, Mrs. Steadman's acquaint- 



MAKE AT HOME. 17 

ance with Mr. Watson was very slight 
indeed. Another difficulty w^as, the de- 
ficient education which Mark had re- 
ceived. It was all that his mother had 
been able to aff'ord him, but they both 
felt certain it must be very inferior to 
what other young men in that position 
usually enjoyed ; and it was a question 
whether he would really be competent 
to undertake all that his uncle would 
require of him. 

•There were two persons to whom they 
decided at length to refer these perplex- 
ities. One was Uncle Jack, whose opin- 
ion we have already heard ; the othe^' 
was Mr. Griffiths, Mark's most kind 
friend and guide, the teacher of a Bible- 
chass to which he belonged. For the 
last two years he had taken a deep 
interest in the fatherless boy ; and Mark 
felt that, besides being indebted to him 
for his impressions of religious truth 



Maik btea-lman. 



18 MAEK STEADMAN. 

and the practical way in which he had 
brought them to his mind, he also owed 
him much as having awakened in him an 
interest in many important subjects of 
Avhich he would otherwise have been 
wholly ignorant. There was perhaps 
no one who knew so v»^ell what Mark 
was, and of what he was capable, as Mr. 
Griffiths, and this Mark himself felt ; so 
that he was one of the first persons to 
be consulted as to the proposal contained 
in Mr. Watson's letter. After talkiHg 
it over with him, Mark seemed to see 
his way more clearly before him, and in 
accordance with his advice, had fully 
determined to accept Mr. Watson's offer, 
and to go to Bristol at once. 

Mrs. Steadman, however, could not 
feel entirely satisfied with Mark's decis- 
ion until she had taken counsel, as we 
have seen, with "Uncle Jack," her 
brother and only surviving relative; 



AIAKK AT HOME. 19 

but he is far too important a ciiaracter 
to be introduced at the end of a chapter. 
If the space occupied by each individual 
were regulated according to his merits, 
then many a great person would have 
to move out of the way in order to make 
room for Captain Jack. 



20 MARK STEADMAX. 



CHAPTEE II. 



Captain Jack. 

John Masters — or, as he was com- 
monly called, Captain Jack, was born 
and ''rared,^^ to use his own expression, 
in Yarmouth, Isle of Wight. His father 
had been the captain of a small mer- 
chant-vessel, and as his children grew 
up, the boys, one after another, had 
taken to the sea as a matter of course. 
Of the once numerous family, Mrs. Stead- 
man and himself were now the sole sur- 
vivors. 

While he had still pursued a seafar- 
ing life, his sister's house had always 
been his home when in port ; but, a few 
years before, he had received such se- 
vere injuries in a fall from the rigging, 
that he could now walk but with diffi- 



CAPTAIN JACK. 21 

culty, and only a short distance at a 
time. His present abode was a small 
house on the pier, where he lived quite 
alone, fulfilling the office of ball-keeper, 
that is, he had the charge of the large 
black canvas-ball, which, as soon as the 
tide was high enough for any vessel to 
enter the harbor, had to be hauled to 
the top of a mast at the pier-head ; and 
then when the tide again went down too 
low, down also must come the ball. A.t 
night a lighted lantern took its place. 
Morning, noon, and night, and in all 
weathers. Captain Jack was at his post ; 
and often he might be seen standing at 
the foot of the mast, with his great sil- 
ver watch in one hand, and the tide- 
table in the other, waiting for the pre- 
cise moment to hoist the ball. 

Partly, we suppose, because he had 
been used to a ship all his life, or pos- 
sibly as a sort of mark of affection. Cap- 



22 MARK STEADMAN. 

tain Jack always spoke of this ball as 
"she;" and often he would begin talk- 
ing of it to a stranger, without any far- 
ther introduction or explanation than 
this, so that many persons imagined he 
was speaking of a \yife or child. He 
had neither of these, however, which 
may account for the way in which he 
spoke of the ball ; but he lived, as we 
have said, in this little house on the 
pier, all alone, doing every thing for 
himself in his handy sailor fashion. 
During the greater part of the day he 
might be seen leaning his elbows on the 
sea-wall, looking out over the sea, hum- 
ming to himself an old psalm-tune ; 
every now and then he would enter 
into a discussion with some ancient com- 
rade, as to what the weather v/as going 
to do next; breaking it off, perhaps, in 
the middle by taking out his watch, and 
saying, ''She '11 be about looking out for 



CAPTAIN JACK. 23 

me now, I expect;" or, ''There, have it 
your own way : I can't keep her waiting 
while we settle it." 

Of all the days in the week, Sunday 
was Captain Jack's busiest; for on that 
day only did he attempt to walk into 
the town, setting off early, in order to 
reach the place of worship where he 
always attended, in good time. Then 
it often happened that in the middle of 
the service the hour would arrive for 
hauling down or hoisting up the ball ; 
and after a little disturbance in Captain 
Jack's pew, he would pull out his glazed 
hat from under the seat, and maVch 
forth ; always returning, however, if the 
service Avere not quite over, when he 
had done his work. 

It was a trying thing for the good 
captain if this interruption should chance 
to occur during the singing, which was 
a part of the service in which he took 



2i MARK STEADMAN. 

especial delight. He joined in it with 
both heart and voice, standing with his 
eyes fixed on his large hymn-book, held 
at arm's length, and quite lost to every 
thing else in his thorough and hearty 
participation in the sentiments of the 
hymn. The performance, it is true, did 
not alwa^'S give so much satisfaction to 
those around him as it did to himself; 
for if it happened that the hymn ex- 
pressed any particular truth or senti- 
ment with which he felt peculiar sym- 
pathy, he would dwell on the words, 
utterly regardless of the ' ' time " at which 
the* rest of the congregation were sing- 
ing; so that they did not so much re- 
gret wdien, as it sometimes occurred in 
the midst of a favorite hymn, he w^ould 
glanoe at the clock, then suddenly slam 
together the covers of his hymn-book, 
get out his hat, and go forth to his duty. 
As soon as the captain had eaten his 



CAPT^ilN JACK. 25 

Sunday dinner, he \Yonld take a stroll 
on the pier, and entering into conver- 
sation with the sailors lounoino* about 
there, he ^YOukl endeavor to persuade 
some of them to come with him to the 
service on board the Bethel ship ; and a 
happy man was Captain Jack, as he 
hobbled along, followed by three or four 
young fellows whom he had induced to 
accompany him where they might hear 
the glad tidings of salvation and victory 
over sin. If he happened to meet any 
good man of his acquaintance on the 
way, he would telegraph to him his suc- 
cess and his gratification at it, by a 
beaming senile, a knowing twitch of his 
eyebrow, and a jerk of his shoulder in 
the direction of his comrades. 

But we must pay a visit to Captain 
Jack in his own home. It is another 
warm evening; the tide is coming in, 
and the great ships come floating into 



2G MAKE STEADMAN. 

the harbor. The black ball has just 
been hoisted to the top of the mast, so 
that the captain, without anxiet}^ or fear 
of disturbance, can devote himself to 
the preparation of a nice little tea, which 
he is getting ready in order to do honor 
to the farewell visit of his nephew, Mark 
Steadman. On the hob of the little grate 
stands the black teapot, set to draw ; 
while on the fender is placed a plate of 
toast, well soaked in salt butter. Before 
the fire stands Captain Jack himself, 
carefully watching the grilling of a-mack- 
erel on the gridiron over the coals ; 
every now and then, however, taking 
his eyes off the fish to glance at the 
large hymn-book set upon the mantel- 
shelf, from which he is singing one of 
his favorite hymns : 

"Through all the changing scenes of life, 
In trouble and in joy, 
The i^raises of my God shall still 
My heart and tongue employ. 



CAPTAIN JACK. 27 

"Of liis deliverance I will boast, 
Till all who are distressed, 
From my example comfort take. 
And charm their griefs to rest. 

" Oh, make but trial of his love. 
Experience will decide 
How blest are they, and only they, 
Who in his truth confide. 

•'Fear him, ye saints, and you will then 
Have nothing else to fear : 
Make you his service your delight, 
Your wants shall be his care." 



Just as the captain was singing tliis 
last verse, Mark came in ; and then the 
teapot, the toast, a'nd the mackerel were 
all put upon the table, and they both 
sat down to their meal. When Mark 
had eaten as much as he could and 
should, though not so much as his uncle 
would have had him take. Captain Jack 
put away the cups and plates, and then 
sat himself down in a large wooden 
chair, close by the little window which 
looked across the pier into the harbor. 



28 MAKK STEADMAN. 

After a few remarks and criticisms on 
the different kinds of '' craft '^ that were 
coming in, the captain suddenly ex- 
claimed, "I say, Mark, what's that big 
parcel down under your chair ?'' 

Mark looked down, and saw under his 
chair a brown paper parcel. "I don't 
know, uncle," said he, taking it up. "I 
didn't see it there just now." 

''It's no property of mine," said the 
captain, laughing and rubbing his hands, 
*'I know that; and as finding's keep- 
ing, why, you 'd better keep it, Mark." 

Mark turned the parcel round, but 
there was no address upon it; and it 
was tied up so skilfully, with so many 
knots, that it was impossible to discover 
what were its contents without opening 
it. 

"Open it, lad," said his uncle. "There 
is no direction ; let us see if it is for any 
of us." 



CAPTAIN JACK. 29 

Mark opened the parcel, and in it 
found a handsome Bible, a hymn-book 
like the one the captain always used, 
and four shillings. Inside the Bible was 
written — 

"Maek Ste.u)man." 

' ' Holy Bible, book divine ; 
Precious treasure — it is thine.'' 

and in the hymn-book Mark also found 
his own name, with the words — 

"For this our truest interest is, 
Glad hymns of praise to sing, 
And -vnth loud songs to bless his name, 
A most delightful thing." 

"Thank you, uncle," exclaimed Mark, 
when he had looked at the books. "It 
is very kind indeed to get me these." 

"But I've never said as 'twas I put 
them there," replied the captain. "You'd 
better keep your thanks till you know 
where they came from. Anyways you're 
the owner, it seems ; and I think, my 



30 MARK STEADMAN. 

boy, the person who gave tliein to you 
hopes and trusts you'll make a good use 
of them. I am sure I may say that, let 
it be who it may." 

"I hope I shall," replied Mark quiet- 

"I've no doubt," said Captain Jack, 
**that your mother has said to you every 
thing, almost, that can be said in the 
way of good advice and counsel ; for 
she 's a good 'woman, Mark, and a wise 
one too, which is more than can be said 
of most of them — but that 's neither here 
nor there. However, what I was going 
to say is this, my boy: your mother 
don't, perhaps, rightly know how hard 
you "11 find it to keep to the good way, 
when every thing 's dead against you. 
It 's one thing sculling about here in the 
harbor, in the smooth water ; but it 's 
no more like making way against wind 
and tide, than running down hill is like 



CAPTAIN JACK. 31 

climbing those rocks. I know you wish 
to be a good hid, Mark : and I do hope 
you have really made up your mind to 
be on the Lord's side, and to sail under 
the great Captain's orders ; but there 's 
•just one thing I 'd like to say to you, 
now you 're going to leave port for the 
first time, and that is — slioiv your colors. 
Wherever you go, do n't be ashamed of 
them. Carry your colors flying, so that 
all you meet may see at once who and 
what you are. If you stick up the ene- 
my's colors, just to avoid a bit of a 
tussle at first, you '11 be in for it soon ; 
for they won't let you haul them down 
again, and it'll go hard but you'll be 
sailing in his service afore long. I know 
what it is myself; and I always found, 
if I let folks know pretty soon what I 
was, or, at least, wished to be, I might 
get a few hard names to begin with ; 
but, after a bit, . thev 'd let me alone, 



32 MARK STEADMAN. 

excepting as tliey kept a sharp lookout 
to see me fall ; which, you see, is a good 
Ihing in its way, too, because it makes 
you keep a good lookout ahead your- 
self, and mind where you 're going, and 
follow your chart. I 've seen many a 
young chap, when first he came aboard, 
who didn't half like w^hat he saw and 
heard ; but instead of speaking out, he 'd 
make some other excuse as it were, to 
get out of it for awhile ; but after a bit, 
he 'd be sure to be drawn into it ; for 
'tis by the Lord's power we stand, and 
I don't see how we can go to ask him 
for his help wdien we are denying him, 
and making believe we 've got nothing 
to do with him. 'T is half the battle, I 
do assure you, to show your colors at 
once. It isn't much I can say to you, 
my boy, for I never was a great talker 
myself — more 's the pity, for I might 
have done more good, raay-be ; so you'll 



CAPTAIN JACK. 33 

jnst mind this now, Mark, from Uncle 
Jack, won't you ?" 

"I will try, uncle, ^' replied Mark. 

"And now,'' said the captain, "I've 
been turning: over in mv mind, most all 
day, what we could do to make an even- 
ing of it • for, you see, I never was the 
good company that some are. But, if 
you like it, vve '11 sing a hymn, and then 
I '11 tell you the story of my brother 
Ben. Perhaps you may n't have heard 
it, for your mother was such a little lass 
then." 

"No," replied Mark; "I don't think 
I ever heard his name before." 

"It's a long yarn," said Captain Jack, 
"but you ought to hear it; so, when 
v/e 've sung this hymn — 

' ' ' Am I a soldier of the cross, 
A follower of tlie Lamb ?' 

I '11 tell you the story of poor Ben." 

Jt;>rk f-te.i'imsn. S 



3J: MAEK STEADMAN. 



CHAPTEK III. 

Captain Jack's ^tory. 

"Let me see," began the captain, 
counting on his fingers; "two tens is 
twenty, and twelve is thirty-two, and 
eight more is forty; isn't it? Well, it 
might be forty years ago, when one 
afternoon my brother Ben and I were 
down on the beach by Yarmouth, Isle of 
Wight, which, as you know, was where 
we were born and brought up. I've 
seen a good many places here and there, 
great cities and fine streets, and grand 
houses, and coral reefs, and palm-trees;, 
but just put me on the cliff above where 
the forts are now built, with a fine breeze 
down the Channel, and the tide on the 
turn, and to my mind there 's no finer 
sight in the whole world than to stand 



CAPTAIN JACK'S STOliY. 35 

there and Avatcli the great ships coming 
clown from Southampton, with all their 
sails up and flags flying. But, however, 
that 's neither here nor there — as I w^as 
a-saying. it's forty years ago that I stood 
there with my brother Ben, w^hen all at 
once he said, 'Let's go across and see 
how Joe is ;' for, you see, Joe was w^ork- 
ing in the ship-building line at Lyming- 
ton. 

"There was nothing I liked so well 
as to go about anywhere with Ben, for 
I was a little fellow, just twelve, and 
he was rising eighteen, and as tall and 
strong as ever I 've seen any one since. 
He was just come back from his second 
voyage, and was looking out for another 
berth, and I 'd been promised to go with 
him next time. I 've often heard moth- 
er say that no woman had more need to 
thank God than she, for such a good 
son as Ben was. 



36 MARK STEADMAX. 

" Well, we wont over to LvmiugtoQ 
that afternoon, and vre found Joe at 
work on a very line yacht; so. after 
talking over tliis and that, he tells Ben 

about a gentleman, a Lord C , who 

was down there looking out for a crew 
for this yacht. ' It 's only a three months' 
cruise in the Mediterranean,' says Joe; 
*the pay is first-rate, and you'll be sure 
to get a handsome present at the end 
of the voyage' besides. I 'd go, by all 
means, if I was you ; he wants another 
man and a boy, and that will just do 
for you and Jaclc' I remember Ben 
made some objections at first, because 
he didn't much like these fancy things; 
but after a bit Joe talked him round, 
and I did my best, too, for I was mad 
to go ; so the end of it was that we went 
up to the hotel in Lymington, where 

Lord C was staying, and he engaged 

us both at once I can see Lord C 



CAFTAIX JACK'S STORY. ST 

now. as if it was only Yesterday^ as he 
was standing at the inn door with an- 
other gentleman, who I knew afterwards 
was Mr. Darlington. He was a tall, 
light-haired young man, almost as fair 
as a woman, and he had on a blue coat 
with bright buttons, and his collar turned 
off from his neck, as I've seen some 
young gentlemen wear it in these days. 
I *d heard plenty of bad language before 
iben among the sailors down on the pier, 
but I never heard any body in all my 
life swear so awful as this young gen- 
tleman. I conld see Ben wasn't very 
well pleased with his bargain, though 
he did n't say much to me about it as 
we went back. The night before we 
left, as mother was packing our chest, 
she put in a nevr Bible, in which slie 
wrote my name: and then she said, 
■ There 's only one thing I want to ask 
of you, Jack, and that is, that you won't 



38 MARK STEADMAN. 

forget Jto pray to God every night and 
morning, nor to read your Bible when- 
ever you can. Ben gave nie this prom- 
ise when he went out on his first vov- 
age, and I don't believe he's ever broke 

it; 

"The next morning early we went 
over to Lymington, and got on board 
the yacht, where we found every thing 
ready to sail. We were out, as I re- 
member, by the afternoon tide, and be- 
fore night were going down the Channel 
with a stiff breeze. For the first few 
days, you may fxincy, I did n't know 
much about what was going on in the 
yacht, for I was very sick, and Avished 
myself home again with mother a hun- 
dred times. Ben came sometimes to see 
how I was getting on, but he always 
laughed at me, and said I should be all 
right after a bit. When we had got past 
the Bay of Biscay, I began to find my 



CAPTAIN JACKS STORY. 39 

sea-legs, and to run about as usual, and 
then I found what a bad lot we 'd got 
among ; and the gentlemen, I must say, 
beat the men, for they seemed to take a 
downright delight in mocking at every 
thing good. From that time to this I 
have never been in such a crew^ as that 
was. I noticed pretty soon that, some- 
how or other, there was a great deal of 
ill-wind against Ben ; there was n't one 
of the men that had a civil word for 
him, and I knew it was because he 
wouldn't join them in their evil ways; 
but as he never spoke about it to me, I 
said nothing to him. 

"The second Sunday we were on 
board I shall never forget. I was too 
sick the lirst Sunday to do any thing 
more than I was forced to do, but this 
day was quiet enough, and we were 
making way slowly down the Mediter- 
ranean. After dinner, Ben said to me, 



40 MAEK STEADMA:N'. 

'Come, Jack, we've had no service to- 
day; let us read a bit out of tlie good 
book.' So I went and fetched my new 
Bible out of the chest, and we got into 
as quiet a corner as we could, and be- 
gan to read. For some time no one 
took notice of us, and vfe talked about 
what we were reading, which I remem- 
ber w^as the history of Daniel being put 
into the den of lions because he would 
not leave off praying to God. At last 
one of the men came up and asked us 
what we were after there. 

'"Eeading the Bible,' said Ben, as 
quiet as possible. Thereupon the man 
broke out, calling us all manner of 
names, and what was worse, saying all 
kinds of dreadful things about the word 
of God itself. I remember so well hovr 
I crept behind Ben and watched the 
man, expecting every moment that God 
would strike him dead for talking as he 



CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 41 

did about the Bible ; but, you see, I 
did n't knov/ then all the mercy and for- 
bearance of the Lord in sparing sinners, 
nor that the blessed Saviour was Avilling 
to receive even such as lie. After a 
bit, one or two more of the crew came 
up, and they wanted to get the book 
from Ben to look at it, as they said ; 
but he knew it vvas only for their wicked 
fun ; so Ben put the book into the front 
of his shirt, and folding his arms, said * 
he would give it to no one, for it was 
God's book ; but if they really wished 
to know what was in it, and had a mind 
to listen, he would read to them out of 
it. At this they only laughed, and just 
at that moment the mate seeing Lord 

C and Mr. Darlington coming up 

the cabin stairs on deck, he made off 
and told them what was going on. 

"Mr. Darlington laughed, and said it 
v;as highly diverting ; but Lord C • 



42 MAEK STEADMAN. 

was furious, and swore he 'd liave the 
book and throw it overboard, for he 'd 
have no such sneaking, methodistical 
nonsense on board his vessel. At that 
two or three of the men would have laid 
hands on Ben to force the book from 
him ; but Mr. Darlington, laughing all 
the while, sa3^s, 'Come, my lord, we can- 
not expect to find enlightened views 
among sailors ; you and I are above this 
foil}", but we must allow a certain amount 
of superstition to the ignorant. The fel- 
low will only think himself a blessed 
martyr if you allQW this to proceed any 
farther ; besides, according to the rights 
of man, it is his propert}^ and he is jus- 
tified in defending it.' So Mr. Darling- 
ton put his hand into Lord C 's arm, 

and they walked towards the other end 
of the vessel, my lord vowing all the 
while that he would get rid of us as 
soon as he got to Naj)les, for he 'd have 



CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 43 

no such mean cowardly fellows on board 
the yacht. But he did n't think what 
was going to happen when he called 
Ben a coward. 

"It wasn't very smooth sailing for 
Ben and me after this, as you might 
suppose, but it would \^ke too long to 
tell all that the men w^ould do to vex 

and plague us ; and Lord C , I must 

say. was always ready to set them on. 
It 's a wonder to me now, when I think 
of the grace and help the Lord must 
have given us, to Ivcep us as he did. 
For my part, I could only ask every 
hour almost when we should get to Xa- 
ples ; and then Ben would talk to me 
and remind me of the patience of our 
blessed Lord, and how he put up with 
worse things from wicked men when he 
was on earth ; and all this he bore, too, 
for our sakes, and instead of the punish- 
ment we deserved for our sins, so that 



44 MAEK STEADIvIAN. 

it was hard if we could n't bear a little 
for him. 'And don't you remember, 
too,' said Ben, 'the stories of the mar- 
tyrs in mother's book at home, how they 
all their lives had to put up with what 
we have to endure only for a little time. 
Cheer up, Jack.jt will soon be over; if 
all this brings us to love and trust the 
Saviour more, we shall bless God for it 
some day.' 

"It was one evening that we came in 
sight of the coast of Italy, and the next 
morning we were to land in Naples. I 
went dow^n to my berth pleased enough 
to think that it was our last night aboard 
this yacht; but I hadn't been asleep 
more than an hour or so, when I woke 
up all of a sudden, hearing a great run- 
ning to and fro on the deck, and cries 
of Fire ! In a moment I was dressed and 
on the deck, where the men were already 
getting the boat down. I saw the flames 



CAPTAIN JACK'S STOEY. 45 

breaking out in several places, and every 
body was getting into the boat as quick 
as possible. It was Ben's watch that 
night, and the moment he saw me come 
up, he took hold of me to put me into 
the boat. Mr. Darlington, I remember, 
v>^as the first to leave the ship, and we 
were the last. I was just getting down, 
with Ben behind me, when all of a sud- 
den one of the men in the boat called 

out, 'Where is Lord C ? Has any 

one seen him?' 

"'It's of no use to wait,' said Mr. 
Darlington ; 'some of you ought to have 
thought of him before. He was driniv- 
ing all last evening, and he will never 
be able to leave his cabin. Pull off, 
and let us save ourselves if we can.' 

"'One moment,' cried Ben, and he 
sprung back into the yacht. In another 
minute he was at the side of the ship 
again, with Lord C in his arms. My 



46 MARK STEADMAN. 

lord was so drunk he couldn't stand, 
and didn't seem to know where he was. 
He was lowered into the boat by Ben, 
and the men had hardly got hold of him, 
when the j^lank, or something that Ben 
stood on, gave way. He staggered and 
caught at a rope hanging there, but he 
missed it, and then fell back into the 
burning vessel. 

"'Pull for your lives!' shouted Mr. 
Darlington, 'the yacht's going down.' 

"I remember I tried to jump into the 
water, but some one held me back, and 
I don't know rightly what happened 
afterwards, till I found the sun was 
shining, and we were landing at the 
quay of Naples. 

"When Lord C came to himself, 

he was terribly cut up about what had 
happened. He wanted me to stay with 
him still, but I could think of nothing 
but getting home as quick as I could; 



CAPTAIN JACK'S STORY. 47 

SO then he took a passage for me on 
board a vessel that Avas leaving for Eng- 
land. He sent my mother a present of 
fifty pounds, and when I went to the 
hotel to thank him, he said to me as I 
was going off, 'Stick to your colors, boy ; 
there must be something in religion when 
it makes a man so brave and good as 
your poor brother. I can't tell you hov/ 
I feel when I think wdiat it w^ould have 
been for me, if I had gone down instead 
of him. As for him, I am sure, if there 
is a heaven, he is there ; and for me, I 
can only hope I may be able to make a 
better use of the life he has saved at 
the cost of his own.' 

"And now, I am sure, I needn't tell 
you, Mark, that I have never forgot ni}^ 
first voyage," concluded Captain Jack. 

"Of Lord C I have never heard 

since, nor whether he reallv led a dif- 
fereut life ; but my poor brother's death, 



48 MARK STEADilAN. 

and especially his good example on 
board the yacht, and the way he used 
to talk to me, so laid hold of my mind, 
that I could have no peace until I had 
learned to love and trust the same Sav- 
iour, and determined to spend my life 
in his service ; and may God bless you, 
m}^ dear boy, and lead and keep you in 
the same v/ay. Now we '11 sing, if you 
like, the hymn, 'Give me the wings of 
faith to rise ; * Old Winchester' tune." 

So Mark and his uncle sang together 
those beautiful words, beginning, 

* ' Crive me tlie"\sT.ngs of faith to rise 
Within the yeii, and see 
The saints above, how gi*eat their joys, 
How bright their glories be." 

And then Mark wished his uncle good 
evening, and returned home. 



LEAVING HOME. 49 



CHAPTEH lY. 

Leaving fiOME. 

PuxcTUALLY at eleveii o'clock the 
next morning, Mark might have been 
seen on the deck of the steamer which 
^Yas to convey him to Bristol. The last 
good-bys at home had been said, and 
now his mother and one of his sisters 
stood waving their handkerchiefs to him 
from the shore, w^hen the bell rang, the 
paddle-wheels began to splash the wa- 
ter, the -plank was taken up, and the 
vessel was steaming her way out of the 
harbor. At the pier-head stood Cap- 
tain Jack, with one arm round the mast 
on which the ball was hoisted, while 
with the other he waved his glazed hat, 
and shouted, " God bless you, my boy I 

Mark StoatJmaTi. 4 



50 MAKK STEADMAN. 

Cheer up, my hearty !" as the steamer 
passed below. 

The day was perfectly calm, and the 
blue summer sea had scarcely a ripple 
upon it excepting where the vessel divi- 
ded its waters ; so that Mark experi- 
enced none of the uncomfortable sensa- 
tions common to young sailors, but stood 
for some time at the stern of the vessel, 
watching the well-known rocks and pier 
as they gradually faded out of sight. 
Then he sat down, and began to realize 
to himself that he had actually left his 
home behind him, and with it the imme- 
diate presence of that affection w^hich had 
been perpetually around him, from his 
infancy. He knew that whatever kind 
friends he might meet with in his new 
life, he never could be to them all that 
he had been in the eyes of those from 
whom he was now separated; and he 
thought that this separation would be no 



LEAVING HOME. 51 

mere temporary parting, but that it was 
the commencement of a final breaking 
away from the guardianship and restraint 
liitherto exercised over him, as well as 
a removal from the habits and influen- 
ces of his old life. His course as yet 
had been, as Uncle Jack expressed it, 
like a little boat floating peacefully in a 
safe harbor ; but now his capabilities 
and powers of endurance were to be 
tried among the breakers and quick- 
sands in the great ocean of the world. 
Of the dangers to be met with there 
Mark knew very little ; but let it be 
remembered, it is not an acquaintance 
with the wrong road which will enable 
any one to walk in the right ; and though 
Mark had very little idea of the snares 
lying before him, yet he knew much, 
both from instruction and from experi- 
ence, of the many heart-felt joys which 
are ever springing up among the rough- 



52 MAKK STEADMAN. 

nesses of the strait and narrow path. 
As he thought of the unknown tempta- 
tions and trials which he was now going 
forth to encounter, he felt some fear, for 
he was aware of the treachery of his 
own nature, which would always be for 
yielding quietly, rather than for offer- 
ing any resistance ; but he lifted up his 
heart in prayer that the Saviour, who 
knows the world better than any human 
being can, who has been in it himself, 
and yet not of it, would be continu- 
ally with him, upholding, guiding, and 
strengthening him every moment. 

Mark had, many times before this, en- 
deavored to exercise that faith in Christ 
which consists in trusting the soul to his 
care as its Saviour, but he had hitherto 
only thought of being saved at last from 
the future punishment merited by his 
sins in another world ; now^ he found 
that he needed a Saviour for his soul in 



LEAVING HOME. 53 

this life as \vell as in tlie hour of death ; 
and that before the time came when this 
final salvation should be his, he had to 
run a race throuo'h a road filled with 
dangers, to fight a good fight with sur- 
rounding foes, and to hold fast the faith, 
while a thousand subtle adversaries 
strove with superhuman cunning to 
pluck it from him. 

Then he thought of v>diat Uncle Jack 
had said about showing his colors, and 
he wondered whether it meant that he 
was to begin at once to talk to other peo- 
ple of those things w^hich w^ere so pre- 
cious and interesting to him, but which 
might not be so to them ; or Vvdiether he 
ought to wait till some circumstance 
called on him to make a stand against 
Vvdiat w^as wrong ; and he decided that 
this was what Uncle Jack intended. 

The day appeared very long to Mark, 
for there were few passengers on board, 



54 MARK STEADMAN. 

and none of them seemed much disposed 
to notice the solitary boy. His mother 
had packed up for him a basket of nice 
things, with which he might refresh him- 
self during the voj^age : and his teacher, 
Mr. Griffiths, had given him a new book ; 
so with the help of these occupations for 
body and mind, he managed to pass the 
time until the evening, when they reach- 
ed the mouth of the Bristol river. The 
usual wearisome delay occurred here, 
there not being sufficient water for the 
vessel to continue her way up the stream, 
and thus the shadows of the summer twi- 
light had already fallen on the pictu- 
resque crags and wooded banks, when 
the tide had risen high enough to allow^ 
of their proceeding to their destination ; 
and Mark therefore could see but little of 
those beauties which make the scenery 
of the Avon for a short distance as charm- 
ing as any river scenery in England. 



LEAVING HOME. 65 

But at length the long day's voyage 
ended, and the passengers, with their 
luggage, were safely landed on the quay, 
at the Hotwells ; and Mark soon found 
himself in an omnibus, driving through 
the streets of Bristol. It was already 
dark when the omnibus stopped, after 
many delays, before a shop which, though 
closed now for the ni2:ht, Mark identi- 
tied as his uncle's, for the name of "Wat- 
son," in large gold letters, sparkled in 
the gas-light over the door. He rang 
the bell at the side-entrance, and he and 
his box were soon ushered into a nar- 
row passage, where his first impulse was 
to ask for his uncle ; but before he could 
do this, a voice called out over the stair- 
case : 

"If that is Mr. Steadman, desire the 
young gentleman to walk up stairs into 
my sitting-room." 

It was the first time that Mark had 



55 MAEK STEADMAN. 

ever answered to either of these titles; 
but still he would have had no hesita- 
,tion in recognizing them as applied to 
himself, even v>^ithout the explanation 
of the servant v>^ho had opened the door : 

"You are to go up to Miss Finch's 
parlor directly.'* 

At the top of the staircase Mark vfas 
received by a little old lad}^, who made 
him such a profound courtesy that he 
felt quite confused, and he returned it 
with a bow that he was quite conscious 
was not his best. She then threw open 
the door of a room, and v/aved her hand 
for him to enter. It v;as quite a relief 
to Mark to find that the room was empty, 
for he dreaded being ushered into the 
presence of some still more formidable 
being than the little old lady with her 
short flaxen curls and upright figure. 
After placing him a chair, Miss Finch 
began in a very deliberate voice, as 



LEAVING HOME. 57 

though she studied each sentence as she 
uttered it : 

" I hope, Mr. Steadman, you have had 
an agreeable journey." 

" Yery," replied Mark, "thank you.'' 

"You reside in Wales, I believe?*' 
said Miss Finch. 

"Yes," answered Mark; "I have 
lived there nearly all my life till 
now." 

"Allow me to express the great pleas- 
ure that I feel in welcoming a nephew 
of Mr. Watson beneath this roof, and 
the hope that he may find a happy home 
here," said Miss Finch. 

"Thank you," replied Mark. "Is 
my uncle in ?" 

"Never at this hour, Mr. Steadman," 
said Miss Finch. "He leaves the busi- 
ness at six. He has, however, desired 
me to say to you that he hopes to see 
you to-morrow." 



58 MAKE STEADMAN. 

" Does not my uncle live here ?" asked 
Mark. 

'' Certainly not," replied Miss Finch; 
"he resides in a villa at Clifton. He 
was sorry that you had not arrived be- 
fore his hour for leaving, and hoped that 
you would find every thing comfortable 
here. There was something also, I think, 
that he wished me to say to you. Yes," 
continued Miss Finch, tapping her fore- 
head, "he thinks it as well, in order to 
prevent any unpleasantness or jealousy 
which might arise, that you should not 
be known here a§ his nephew. He de- 
sires to do all he can for you, but he 
does not wish there should be any ap- 
parent difference between you and the 
other young men in the house. I be- 
lieve this was the substance of his re- 
marks to me on the subject. You will 
of course, therefore, be good enough to 
speak of him always as Mr. Watson, 



LEAVING HOME. 59 

and not to allude to any ties of relation- 
ship." 

"Certainly,'' replied Mark, "since 
Mr. Watson wishes it ;" but at the same 
time he could not resist a depressing 
sensation which came over him at the 
idea that the little consolation which he 
had been administering to himself in 
parting from all his former friends for 
the first time, by endeavoring to imagine 
that he was going to a relative, who 
would therefore feel more than a stran- 
ger's interest or affection, was now taken 
from him, and that he had to stand his 
ground and fight his own battles alone. 

"And now, I believe," began Miss 
Finch, "our interview is terminated. I 
can only say besides, that if you have 
any complaints to make of any thing in 
the domestic arrangements, I hope you 
will apply to me at once. Every thing 
here is in my charge, and under my su- 



60 MARK 8TEADMAN. 

peiiiiteiidence. Some of the young men 
are not so gentlemanly as I could wish ; 
but I am sure that they \Yill all bear 
witness to my pains and assiduity in the 
discharge of my duties." 

"I have no doubt I shall be very hap- 
py here,'' murmured Mark, as he rose 
to leave. 

"My position here is very different 
from what it has been, Mr. Steadman," 
remarked Miss Finch, also rising. "Du- 
ring my dear sister's lifetime — one of 
the most amiable and accomplished of 
human beings — we had a large and pros- 
perous establishment for young ladies 
at Carlton Yilia, Clifton. Mr. Watson 
took the house off my hands ; and I am 
here. But ' such is life,' as some one, I 
forget who, lias justly remarked." 

Miss Finch then rang the bell, and 
desired the servant to show Mr. Stead- 
man down stairs. "I always sup in 



'i'H£ M^V7 YOHK. 

PUBLIC LIBRARY 

ASTOR, LENOX 



LEAVING HOME. Gl 

my own apartment,'' she observed, as 
Mark again attempted a bow, wliicli be 
feared would lay him also under the 
charge of " not being so gentlemanly as 
Miss Finch could have wished.-' 

As Mark followed the servant down 
stairs, she opened the door of a small 
parlor behind the shop, and Mark en- 
tering, perceived two young men sitting 
near the gas-light which burned over the 
mantel-shelf, reading. The younger of 
them, who did not look much older than 
Mark, rose as the door opened, and ad- 
vancinG: towards the new-comer with his 
hand stretched out in a theatrical atti- 
tude, exclaimed : 

" Vf elcome, Mr. Matthew Steady-man, 
to the* fruitful plains and wide domains 
of Messrs. Watson and Co. Allow me 
also the pleasure of first introducing to 
you my friend Mr. Verdant — I mean, Mr. 
Yincent Green,'' and he waved his hand 



62 MAKE STEADMAN. 

in the directioii of his companion, who 
looked up from his book, smiled quietly, 
and shook hands with Mark, saying at 
the same time, 

"Pray let's have no more nonsense, 
Archer." 

'"Now," began the other again, ''you 
go on with your novel. I was about to 
add that, secondly, I should request the 
privilege of calling the attention of Mr. 
Steady-man to the humble individual 
who now addresses you. His name is 
Archer — Charlie Archer, of a very an- 
cient and well-known family. One of 
our ancestors, as you are no doubt aware, 
distinguished himself during the dark 
ages by shooting at a frog ; and there is 
every reason to believe that the first 
letter of the alphabet — great A — was 
invented by him, as the initial of the 
family name. So that you see, in fact, 
we may be considered as the leaders in 



LEAVING HOME. 63 

les helks lettres, as v/ell as being highly 
distinguished for our proficiency in les 
hemix arts." 

Mark did not in the least know how 
to reply to this speech. It was a style 
of talking to which he had been hitherto 
quite unaccustomed, and he did not un- 
derstand 't. He saw Mr. Green laugh, 
so he laughed too, and drawing a chair 
forward, sat down awkwardly on the 
edge of it, feeling quite abashed and 
shy. 

Presently Mr. Charles Archer looked 
at his Avatch, and observing that it was 
past nine, announced his intention of 
presiding at the supper-table — for the 
cloth was already laid — without any 
longer awaiting the return of their "dis- 
tinguished president.'' 

" You have already been introduced,'^ 
said he to Mark, as he took his seat at 
the head of the table, ''to the first and 



Gi MARK STEADMAN. 

second persons singular, it only remains 
to make you acquainted with the third 
person, or the person spoken of, as the 
grammar-books say. Now that individ- 
ual, allow" me to inform you, is no less a 
personage than the famous Alexander 
the Great, who, after conquering all the 
world for which he sighed, has at length 
condescended to take the situation of 
senior assistant in the woollen-drapery 
business of Messrs. Watson and Co., 
and is content to reign supreme over a 
simple village Green, with one humble 
Archer as his body-guard, and a Steady - 
man as general servant. He is now, 
probably, engaged in settling some ques- 
tion of great moment to the universe in 
general, and which accounts for his ab- 
sence on the present occasion.'' 

"If you mean the discussion-class," 
said Mr. Green, "I do not think it meets 
to-nioht. Tuesdav is their evenino'.'' 



LEAVING HOME. G5 

*' But," replied Archer, "I have been 
informed, on the authority of the Great 
Alexander, the vice-president, that the 
question — one of some importance — oc- 
cupied so much time in discussion that 
an adjourned meeting was fixed for this 
evening, in order to settle it. I pro- 
posed to him to go and speak on either 
side, or on both sides if he liked ; but 
he has never invited me again, since my 
unfortunate speech on spiritualism." 

At that moment the hall-door was 
opened, and a step heard in the passage. 
Archer began whistling, "See, the con- 
quering hero comes," and presently Mr. 
Alexander Cocks entered the room. 

Archer immediately vacated his seat 
at the head of the table, and Mr. Cocks 
took his place. He then spoke to Mark, 
and asked him if he had had a pleasant 
journey ; after which he turned to Ar- 
cher, and said : 



J-Uk ^ifi'lrrxji. 



6G MAEK 6TEADMAX. 

''We beat tliem; I knew we should, 
after Jones and Clark had spoken ; they 
are both of them uncommonly clever fel- 
lows. The opposition melted away like 
snow ; and when it came to the vote, 
they could only count five hands.'' 

"What a pity you were not there, 
Steadman,'' said Archer, turning to 
Mark, "to have helped in the learned 
discussion. '^ 

"I can assure you we should really 
have been very glad to have had you on 
the other side," said Mr. Cocks. "It 
would have been, more exciting if they 
could have put forward a more decided 
speaker ; but the fact was, they were 
very weak indeed. Did you ever take 
a part in these meetings ?■' 

"No," replied Mark. 

"Then I hope you will allow me to 
introduce you next Tuesdav," said Mr. 
Cocks. "We discuss all kinds of sub- 



LEAVING HOME. 67 

jects, and are glad to Iiear every variety 
of opinion." 

The clock now struck ten, and at the 
same moment a step was heard descend- 
ing the staircase, and presently Miss 
Finch threw open the parlor-door. 

'' Gentlemen," said she, looking round 
and bowing to each, ''allow^ me to wish 
you all a ver}^ good night ;" and then 
she withdrew again. 

Mark looked up inquiringly after this 
little ceremony was over, and Archer 
said : 

''She counts her chickens like this 
every night. The fact is, Mr. Watson, 
with a truly paternal anxiety, has made 
a rule that we are all to be in at ten 
o'clock ; so, punctually as the hour 
strikes, Miss Finch descends, and first 
counts us and then the spoons, to see 
that all is right." 



68 MARK STE ADMAN. 



CHAPTEK V. 

The First Sunday, 

a?HE next day after Mark's arrival at 
Mr. Watson's, he was fully occupied in 
paying close attention to the directions 
given him as to his future work. The 
business was, as we have said, one of 
those long -established, old-fashioned 
shops, in which a less variety of goods 
is sold than is common at present in most 
linen-drapers', yet Mark found his new 
occupations sufficiently fatiguing and 
confusing during the first day ; so that 
it was with a feeling of unusual relief 
that he recollected that the morrow was 
the day of rest. 

A Sunday morning in the street of a 
large town cannot be remarkable for that 
calm beauty and serenity which is so 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 69 

often observable at such seasons in the 
country; but although Mark could no 
lon«:er look out towards the blue hills 
across the bay, or wander across the 
green lanes, or on the seashore, as he 
had often done on an early Sunday morn- 
ing in summer at home, yet he could not 
help thinking that even the sky in the 
spaces between the roofs of the houses 
opposite had a peculiar look of fresh- 
ness and peace which it had not worn on 
the previous day, and which seemed to 
declare that the week's toil was over, and 
the dust and soil of it cleansed away. 

Mark found no one in the parlor when 
he went down, so he fetched a book, and 
placing himself by the open window be- 
gan to read. As the clock struck nine. 
Miss Finch, dressed in a brilliant blue 
silk and new lace cap, sailed into the 
room, and inspired perhaps by the con- 
sciousness of her fine dress, her bow to 



70 MAllK STEADMAN. 

Mark was even more dignified and im- 
posing than usual. 

"I expect we shall have a tete-a-tete 
breakfiist, Mr. Steadman," she remarked, 
as with a sweep of her dress she took 
her seat at the table. 

Mark was not quite sure what kind of 
a breakfast that might be, so he only 
said, "Do you think so?" 

"Yes," replied Miss Finch; "'False- 
ly luxurious will not man awake,' as the 
poet says. I always keep my phice till 
ten on Sunday mornings — never later — 
and after that the-y must shift for them- 
selves. I am glad to see that you prac- 
tise early rising, Mr. Steadman." 

" We are always earlier than usual on 
Sabbath mornings at home," said Mark, 
" there is so much to be done to get all 
ready in time for the service, and then 
almost the whole family go to the Sun- 
da v-school." 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 71 

** Indeed !'' answered Miss Fincli. 
"Ob, I suppose your friends are pious 
people, Mr. Steadman.'' 

Mark did not exactly know what to 
reply to this ; but he said at last that he 
was sure his mother was a very good 
woman, and she had always tried to 
bring up her children in the same way. 

"And you call yourself one of this 
kind of people, I conclude, Mr. Stead- 
man ?" asked Miss Finch. 
• Mark felt that this was a very disa- 
greeable question, for he had always the 
strongest repugnance to speaking of his 
own feelings or opinions, so that it was 
with great difficulty that he brought out 
the words, 

"I do not like to call myself, or to be 
called by any names of this kind, be- 
cause I am afraid I may never be able 
to keep up the high character which 
they demand ; but if you mean to ask, 



72 MAEK STEAD MAN. 

Miss Finch, whether I am content to 
live only for this world, and to neglect 
the commandments of God, and espe- 
cially the blessings he has offered us in 
Jesus Christ, I must reply that I am not, 
and hope I never shall be.'' 

"Ah, yes," replied Miss Finch, "I 
understand. It is all the same thing. 
During the course of my life I have occa- 
sionally met wnth some very worthy peo- 
ple of your way of thinking, not so gen- 
teel, perhaps, but still much respected.''- 

And here Miss Finch changed the 
subject, and begcin to ask Mark about 
Wales, and the people, and scenery, 
etc., until ten o'clock struck, when she 
rose, and wishing him good morning, 
left the room, remarking that she sup- 
posed he would spend the day out some- 
where. 

She had scarcely closed the door be- 
fore Charlie Archer entered. 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 73 

"Good morning!"' exclaimed he ; "and 
' what does little Birdie say V Have you 
actually been spending a whole hour here 
in her charming society alone ? Well, 
it 's the early bird, they say, that catches 
the worm, and it serves the worm right 
for being up so early; so that will be a 
caution for you another time. And now, 
what would you like to do with yourself 
to-day? Shall we go up to Clifton, and 
on the down ? I '11 show you about." 

"Thank you,'' replied Mark, "I am 
much obliged ; but I would rather not 
spend Sunday as a day of amusement." 

" Oh !"' exclaimed Archer, " that 's 
your line, is it? I rather suspected as 
much last night. But, my dear fellow, 
let me give you one piece of advice, and 
that is, don't attempt to be different from 
other people. It's the worst thing pos- 
sible, I can assure you, if you ever want 
to get on in the world. And it's no use 



74 MARK STEADMAN. 

either ; because, tliough you may oegiu 
like this, yet sooner or later you '11 have 
to give in ; and then it really isn't worth 
while having made a fuss about it at 
first. I know quite well how you feel 
now, but those feelings will wear off 
after you have been here a little while, 
so it's just as well to begin as you mean 
to go on." 

"That's just what I wish to do,'' 
replied Mark. 

''Ah, that's all very well," said Ar- 
cher; "many a fellow thinks that when 
first he leaves home ; but after a time 
he finds out that it won't do. And after 
all, as to your going out to-day, why 
what harm can there be in that? We 
have no holiday but on Sunday ; and iho: 
Sabbath was made for man, you know, 
and not man for the Sabbath." 

"I know that," replied Mark; "I 
don't believe that in keeping the Sab- 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 75 

bath hol}^ we are conferring any kind of 
obligation, as it were, on God, who has 
given us the Sabbath ; but I look on it 
that in keeping the Sabbath as a day of 
rest from amusement as well as from 
work, we are not only obeying the com- 
mand of God, but are doing that which 
is the best possible thing for ourselves." 

"Well, each one to his taste," said 
Archer, turning to the breakfast-table ; 
"for my part, I've had enough of dull 
Sundays at school." 

" I do not think a Sabbath well spent 
because it is dull," answered Mark ; "but 
what I mean is, that we ought to endeav- 
or, once a week at least, to forget the 
things of this world, and try to turn our 
thoughts to those more serious things 
which, whether we will or no, we can't 
help having to do with ; and it seems to 
me, that whatever helps us in this is a 
right way of spending the Sabbath, and 



76 MARK STEADMAN. 

whatever interferes with this 'must be 
bad." 

Mark felt almost^surprised at himself 
in having said as much as this, and Mr. 
Cocks having entered the room just as he 
had finished, the conversation dropped ; 
and soon after Mark was on his way to 
the place of worship where his teacher, 
Mr. Griffiths, had recommended him to 
attend. 

Owing to a mistake which he made in 
the time, the service had already com- 
menced when Mark entered, and the 
congregation being large, Mark had to 
stand for a few minutes in the aisle be- 
fore a seat could be found for him. Just 
at this moment, however, a gentleman 
happened to turn his head, and caught 
sight of Mark, who, being unaccustomed 
to strange places, felt quite shy and un- 
comfortable. In a moment the gentle- 
man, opening his pew-door, beckoned to 



THE FIKST SUNDAY. 77 

him, and kindly invited him to enter. 
Mark found in the pew a lady, and two 
little girls about six or seven years of 
age, who made room for him. As soon 
as the service v\^as ended, the gentleman 
on leaving the sanctuary turned to Mark, 
and asked him if he were not a stran- 
ger, and whether he had been long in 
Bristol. 

Mark, in reply, told him that he had 
only left home for the first time two days 
before ; and mentioning the name of his 
native town in Wales, added that it was 
by the recommendation of Mr. Griffiths, 
whose Bible-class he had been accus- 
tomed to attend, that he had been in- 
duced to choose this place of worship 
that morning. The gentleman then told 
him that he had a large Bible-class of 
young men connected with his congre- 
gation, which was accustomed to meet in 
a room adjoining every Sabbath after- 



78 MARK STEADMAN. 

noon, and if he felt disposed, it would 
give him much pleasure to see him there. 
Mark was pleased to hear this ; it seemed 
to him more like home than any thing 
he had met with since his arrival in Bris- 
tol ; and he felt disposed to regard this 
stranger with that sudden impulse of 
friendly feeling which only those can 
understand who have found themselves 
previously surrounded by persons whose 
opinions and sentiments are opposite and 
uncongenial. 

Mark came away much happier than 
he went. It appeared as though his 
merciful Father in heaven had already 
manifested some of that tender care for 
him with which he continually watches 
over those who love and honor him. Nor 
can we doubt but that in regarding this 
little incident as directed by his hand, 
Mark was perfectly right ; for though we 
ought ever to guard against that spirit- 



THE FIEST SUNDAY. 79 

iial pricPe which makes us fancy some- 
times that the whole machinery of Prov- 
idence is employed on our especial be- 
half, and to accomplish some trivial object 
on which we may have set our hearts, yet 
we should never forget the promise of 
our Saviour in leaving this world : "Lo, 
I am with you alway ;" nor need we 
hesitate to look for the manifestation of 
that presence in the direction and ar- 
rangement of all the events of our lives, 
and more especially in those things which 
tend in any way to help us on in our 
Christian course, or v/hich enable us the 
more perfectly to resist temptation, or 
to keep clear of ungodly influences. 
There is no one, who has long been the 
follower of Jesus Christ, but who has 
proved many a time in his experience, 
that evil has been shut off from him and 
good influences thrown around him, 
throuo-h circumstances which were whol- 



80 MARK STEADMAN. 

ly unexpected and beyond his (5wii con- 
trol. 

Mark, while returning home, had a 
dread of again being questioned by his 
companions ; and though to some this 
may appear as cowardly, yet the repug- 
nance really arose from a kind of feel- 
ing which is far from cowardly. It is 
one thing to be ashamed of our senti- 
ments and opinions, and another to ex- 
perience a great reluctance to express 
them before others ; and though it is 
true that if this sensitiveness be too 
much indulged, it may lead to false and 
cowardly conduct,"'yet it is equally noto- 
rious that boasters are often the first to 
fly, and that those who appear to have 
the least timidity in expressing their 
opinions or in displaying their more 
sacred feelings, are not the most firm 
always when pressed hard by the foe. 

The stand which Mark knew that he 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 81 

must take against those around him, was 
to be a resistance against the old foes of 
God and man, "the world, the flesh, and 
the devil;" and he felt that in making 
this he needed great grace and strength 
from above, for it was only by this grace 
that he differed in any way from the rest. 
He had the same nature as ihej, open 
to the same impressions, and liable to 
fall into the same temptations ; and it 
was only as God should help him by his 
Holy Spirit that he could in any way 
overcome these. 

He did not, therefore, look upon his 
companions as his foes, and imagine that 
the battle was to be fought out between 
him and them as individuals — a battle 
in which he was to play the part of a 
"blessed martyr," and they in the end 
to be signally defeated, and either pun- 
ished for their treatment of him, or 
brought over to his side ; but he felt 



M«rk Steadmam. 



82 MARK STEADMAN. 

that the enemy to be watched and con- 
quered was no one else but himself — that 
is, his nature- — which being placed for 
the time among those who yielded to 
their native impulses, and had no desire 
to make the will of God their object in 
life, he would be strongly pressed to 
yield also, and to give up the toilsome 
narrow way for the easier broad road. 
Mark believed and hoped that he had 
begun to build on the true foundation, 
Jesus Christ : but he often feared lest he 
might on this lay nothing but wood, hay, 
stubble, instead of the gold and silver 
of a life consecrated to God. 

On his return to Mr. Watson's house 
he found no one in the parlor but Mr. 
Green, who, yawning and stretching his 
arms, threw down the novel he had been 
reading the night before, and wondered 
•'how ever anybody in the world could 
like to write such trash.'' 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 83 

Mark felt much disposed to reply, that 
he supposed people liked to write it be- 
cause other people liked to read it. He 
said nothing, however, and the dinner 
being ready, they both sat down to the 
table. Neither Mr. Cocks nor Charlie 
Archer made their appearance ; and Mr. 
Green, after abusing both for going out 
before he came down and leaving him 
alone for the day, finished his meal in 
silence. Directly after dinner Mark set 
out for the Bible-class, and on entering 
the room, he found ten or twelve young 
men already assembled ; and soon after 
his friend of the morning appeared, 
whose name he found, on inquiring of 
some one next to him, was Mr. Locke, 
"the manager of the bank in High- 
street," added his informant. 

The class was going through a series 
of lessons on the young men of the Bible, 
and the subject for this afternoon was 



8^ MARK STEADMAN. 

the character and life of Daniel at the 
Babylonian court. Many of the remarks 
made by Mr. Locke were felt by Mark 
to be peculiarly appropriate to his own 
circumstances and dangers ; and so in- 
terested was he that he could scarcely 
believe that more than an hour had pass- 
ed away when the lesson was concluded. 
Before leaving the room Mr. Locke had 
a few words to say to each of his class, 
for he seemed well acquainted with them 
all. As Mark v/ished him good after- 
noon, Mr. Locke remarked that their 
road lay in the same direction, and that 
he would walk with Mark as far as Mr. 
AYatson's. On their way he asked him 
about his home, and then it came out 
that Mr. Locke and his family had been 
lodging in S during the last sum- 
mer, that he had paid three or four vis- 
its even to the shop of Mrs. Steadman, 
and had several times entered into con- 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 85 

versation with Uncle Jack upon the 
pier. This made Mark feel more confi- 
dential than ever, and he told Mr. Locke 
more of his hopes and fears respecting 
his new life at his uncle's tlian he would 
have thought it possible he could have 
ever confided to a stranger of but a 
day's acquaintance ; but there was that 
kind of frankness and sympathy about 
Mr. Locke that always won the trust 
and affection of the young. 

As they reached Mr. Watson's shop., 
and Mark was about to bid his new 
friend good-afternoon, Mr. Locke said : 

"Bat why shouldn't 3^011 come on a 
few steps farther, and drink tea with 
me this afternoon ? You have promised 
to come and see me, and you may as 
well do it at once." 

Mark willingly consented, and they 
soon found themselves at Mr. Locke's 
door. He took Mark up stairs into a 



SQ MAEK STEADMAN. 

pleasant drawing-room over the bank, 
and there introduced him to a lad}^, 
whose kind and lively manner at once 
made Mark feel at home. On the floor 
were the two little girls whom Mark had 
seen in the pew in the morning, w^ith a 
baby-brother of about six months old. 
After a few remarks, Mrs. Locke called 
the little girls to her, and bade them 
sing to their papa the hymn she had 
taught them that afternoon ; and Mark 
thought he had never heard any thing 
prettier than when their sweet little 
voices sang so perfectly and clearly the 
hymn he used to know so well : 

"Around the throne of God in heaven 
Thousands of children stand, 
Childi-en whose sins are all forgiven, 
A holy, happy band, 
Singing, 'Glory, glory. 
Glory be to God most high.' 

When they had finished, Mrs. Locke 
rang the bell, and desiring the servant 



TEE FIRST SUNDAY. 87 

to take the bab}^ told the little girls 
they might have tea do^yll stairs that 
evening with Mary and baby ; and then 
she invited Mark to come to the table, 
and began to pour out the tea. 

A pleasant conversation followed, 
which though in harmony with the sanc- 
tit}^ of the day, in no way partook of 
that gloom or affectation which many 
persons fancy must be inseparable from 
the consideration of topics beyond the 
range of ordinary life. Among other 
things the subject of the discussion-class 
came up, suggested by a remark made 
by Mr. Locke, on the tendency in the 
present day to prefer novelty to truth ; 
and Mark asked Mr. Locke's opinion 
about it, adding, at the same time, that 
he had half promised Mr. Cocks to go 
with him next Tuesday evening. 

"I think sometimes," replied Mr. 
Locke, " that a good discussion on a sub- 



88 MARK STEADMAN. 

ject is a capital thing ; it seems to clear 
away a great deal of that vagueness in 
which we are often content to leave our 
ideas, and confirms us in the reason- 
ableness of an opinion, which we might 
have previously formed rather from some 
happy combination of circumstances than 
as the result of much thought. When, 
therefore, two or three friends happen 
to fall into a discussion upon some ques- 
tion, and place it in different lights, much 
benefit may result, so long as truth is 
not sacrificed for the sake of maintain- 
ing an opinion ; but I must say, I greatly 
fear that in these- classes, where people 
assemble together regularly for the pur- 
pose of debate, truth is not always the 
object kept in view. When, therefore, 
the subjects debated are taken from 
among those solemn realities which must 
be held by faith rather than by reason, 
then I cannot but think that immense 



THE FIKST SUNDAY. 89 

harm must be done by such discus- 
sions." 

"But there would always be some to 
take the right side," urged Mark. 

"That may be," replied Mr. Locke; 
"but why is what you call ^tlie right side'' 
chosen ? It seems to me that in deci- 
ding which side to take, it is scarcely 
possible that any one should be actu- 
ated simply by that honest, straightfor- 
ward desire to see all, and no more than 
the truth, which ought to animate us in 
adopting our convictions. Every sub- 
ject is regarded as having two sides, one 
of which must be hastily chosen ; and 
this rapid choice is frequently directed 
merely by some trivial circumstance or 
passing whim of the fancy. The mind 
thus becomes accustomed to the danger- 
ous and degrading habit of regarding 
truth and error as light matters, either 
of which may be caught at, just as the 



90 MARK STEADMAN. 

wind happens to blow either in our 
direction. Under the influence of this 
spirit, humble, earnest thought and sound 
judgment soon disappear, and give place 
to a supercilious levity, which scoffs at 
and rejects venerable truths resting on 
a solid foundation of reason and common 
sense ; and yet at the same time will 
devour with the greatest credulity ab- 
surdities which ignorance alone pronoun- 
ces novelties, and which are utterly de- 
void of any reasonable basis." 

"But do you think that all serious 
subjects must be avoided?'' asked Mark. 

"By serious subjects, I do not mean 
only those we usually call religious," 
replied Mr. Locke; "I include among 
them all those questions on which a 
thoughtful, earnest man would like to 
arrive at a true and faithful conclusion. 
But, in fact, it is almost impossible to 
fix on any subject in which truth is not 



THE FIKST SUNDAY. 91 

involved ; and to discover this aright is 
no trifling matter in which we may fol- 
low our own fancies ; but it is a serious 
work, in which we are bound to use our 
l)est care and pains, as in the sight of 
God, in order to accomplish it as per- 
fectly as possible. I think we do right 
to remember alwa^^s, in every movement 
of the mind both great and small, that 
we are responsible to God for them, and 
that He will as much take account of 
these passing impressions and opinions, 
as of our external actions. It is true 
the hackneyed quotation of the poet 
says : 

" *For foi-ms of faith let senseless bigots fight : 
He can't be wrong whose life is in the right ;' 

but the sentiment is not a just one unless 
we understand by 'life' here all the ac- 
tivity of which our natures are capable, 
whether mental, moral, sentimental, or 
physical." 



92 MARK STEADMAN. 

"I think I see the danger you mean, 
as probably arising from the habit of 
taking a part in these discussions," said 
Mark. "I had rather thought of them 
myself as an opportunity of gaining 
information on many subjects of which, 
I must confess, I am very ignorant. I 
should be only a listener." 

"I did not intend in any way to say 
to you, leave these things alone because 
it is difficult to come to a right under- 
standing of them and there are dangers 
on the road," said Mr. Locke. "I think 
every one ought to be engaged in the 
conscientious cultivation of his own mind, 
in a diligent search after truth, and anx- 
ious for the formation of sound and cor- 
rect opinions ; but I, for one, should not 
choose a class like this as the means best 
adapted to these ends." 

" What then would you recommend ?" 
asked Mark. " I should be glad of any 



THE FIRST SUNDAY. 93 

means for improving myself, for I find 
already, now I come to be with others, 
how behindhand I am. Even in these 
few days I have heard many things spo- 
ken of about which I know nothing. 
My mother gave me the best education 
she could afford, but I think it must have 
been very inferior to that of the other 
young men at Mr. Watson's.'' 

"That may be," replied Mr. Locke; 
"but "you have plenty of time before 
you, and by steady work during the 
next few years may more than make up 
for past deficiencies. You shall come 
here some evening soon, and we Avill 
have a little examination, and find out 
your weak points, and talk over the 
best plan for remedj'ing them." 

" Thank you very much," said Mark. 

"In the meantime I think Mr. Stead- 
man would much enjoy those nice lec- 
tures which Mr. Copeman has been giv- 



94 MARK STEADMAN. 

ing to your class on Wednesday even- 
ings," said Mrs. Locke. 

"Yes," replied Mr. Locke; "I was 
going to tell him of them. A friend of 
mine," continued he, turning to Mark, 
"has undertaken to give the class you 
joined this afterrioon a course of lectures, 
or lessons on English literature. He 
has already introduced us to some great 
men of th^ past, and to their writings, 
in a most interesting manner ; and I am 
sure you would find an evening pass 
very pleasantly in this wajJ^ 

In the evening Mark accompanied 
his kind friends tt> the same place of 
worship where he had attended in the 
morning, after which he returned home, 
satisfied that the Sabbath had not been 
to him at any rate a "dull day," nor 
unprofitable for the great end for which 
the day was appointed. 



TEIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 95 



CHAPTER VI 

Trials and Encouragements. 

Mark had now settled into his new 
life at Mr. Watson's, and one day suc- 
ceeded another without any very great 
distinction. It is not for extraordinary 
events that we have to prepare our- 
selves, for life consists for the most part 
of little pleasures, small trials, and slight 
temptations, and it is these that we have 
to watch against, and to use as helps in 
our spiritual progress: now and then 
may come some rare storm, or some few 
weeks of wonderful summer sunshine, 
demanding unusual strength ; but these 
seasons are not the ordinary weather of 
life. Mark did not find, however, that 
he could therefore cease to watch and 
pray, and let his life take its own course ; 



9G MAllK STEADMAK. 

even in fair weather, a ship cannot be 
left to its own guidance, but still re- 
quires the attention and care of the cap- 
tain and steersman. 

During the day, he endeavored, as far 
as possible, to attend to all the duties 
of his situation, and to promote in every 
way the interests of his employer; for 
he knew that it was just this work to 
which God now called liim, and that in 
the conscientious discharge of it he was 
doing the will of his Father in heaven, 
although it consisted merely in carrying 
out parcels, in measuring out yards of 
stuff, or in attempting to satisfy the 
tastes of fastidious customers. In the 
evening, and at such time as he had at 
his own disposal, he set to work dili- 
gently to remedy the defects in his edu- 
cation, by the stud}^ of those things in 
which he found himself deficient; and 
he also experienced great pleasure in 



TRIALS AND EXCOUIIAGEMENTS. 07 

attending Mr. Copenian's lectures, in 
connection with the Bible-class, and in 
reading many of tlie books lent him by 
Mr. Locke. Through these means a new 
world of fine thoughts and beautiful fan- 
cies was opened before him, in the en- 
joyment of which he forgot many a little 
worry and passing anxiety, while at the 
same time his mind became widened 
and cultiyated by this intercourse with 
the wise and good of other days. 

No argument is perhaps now needed, 
in order to conyince people that religion 
has nothing in it which is opposed to 
intellectual ^/-o^ress, but it by no means 
follows that all so-called intellectual pur- 
suits are in harmony with the great ends 
of religion. Intellectual progress can 
only be maintained so far as truth is 
always kept in yiew ; errors and chime- 
ras may be pursued by the intellect 
through their winding, erratic course, 

Maik eteadmaa. 7 



98 MARK STEADMAN. 

endiDg in leaving the mind farther back 
upon the road of ignorance and dark- 
ness than when the chase began. Every 
thing which promotes the real good of 
the soul, the mind, or the body, ought 
to be claimed by religion as its servant ; 
but as all bodily exercise is not neces- 
sarily productive of health, but may 
tend only to cause fatigue or even dis- 
ease, so mental activity, unless used 
rightly, may have no other effect than 
to distort the ideas, to deform the mind, 
and to lead the soul away from the true 
source of all enlightenment and knowl- 
edge, down among the dark mountains 
of error. 

It was no easy thing for Mark, as it 
never will be for any human being, to 
make the will of God not only his rule 
of life, but the standard by which to try 
every thought, opinion, and feeling ; and 
he constantly found himself falling into 



TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 1]0 

the same ideas as were held by those 
around him, and in danger of adopting 
their standard instead of the one ap- 
pointed by God in his word. For in- 
stance, it was very difficult to continue 
to regard with the same reverence and 
respect, as he once did, those truths 
which he now heard lightly discussed, 
and characterized as old-fashioned, obso- 
lete views, rejected by all the "advanced 
thinkers " of the day ; while the insinu- 
ation would be added, that it was only 
because he had lived all his life in one 
circle, that he still held them. But in- 
instepd of casting them off as old gar- 
ments, no longer in the mode, he would 
ask himself. Is it because I have heard 
these things from my youth that I be- 
lieve them to be true ? Have they any 
real foundation for themselves ? And 
in answering these queries, he found the 
great advantage of such a friend as Mr. 



o 



*^^\50 ^^ 



100 MAEK STEAD:vilN. 

Locke, a mau not like himself feeling 
after things, but who had already trav- 
elled the same road and knew every 
step of the way. 

Another temptation which Mark found 
press upon him very strongly at this 
time, arose from his constantly having 
the idea brought before him, both b}" 
words and practice, that in order to get 
on in the world, it was absolutely need- 
ful, not only to think as other people 
thought, but to do as they did, to go 
where they went, to see what they saw, 
and hear v>'hat they heard ; to have, in 
fact, no standard of manners or morals 
of his own. 

He found himself tempted continually 
to ask, Why should I be different from 
those around me? Why, at any rate, 
may I not do this and that, so as, as far 
as possible, to be taken for a young man 
who knows the world? For Mark could 



IRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 101 

not glory, as some people say they do, 
in being peculiar ; on the contrary, he 
found it very hard work indeed, so much 
so, that he often felt as if he could hold 
out no longer, but must yield to the in- 
fluences around him, for he discovered 
much in his own nature which sympa- 
thized with these. 

Persons sometimes think that in set- 
ting out on the Christian course they 
have become so different in their very 
natures from those who are living with- 
out God in the world, that though they 
may expect persecution from them, yet 
they are in no danger of being attracted 
by those things which charm others; 
thus a feeling of conscious superiority 
and of self-security is induced, which, 
besides being in itself a sin, is no kind 
of safeguard against the dangers lying 
before them. Indeed, we not unfre- 
quently see that those who set out thank- 



102 MARK STEADMAN. 

ing God that they are not as other men, 
are permitted by him to fall into many 
of the snares which they despised, in 
order to teach them that the}^ are like 
others, and that the only difference is 
in the mercy and grace of God granted 
to them. 

It was about this time that Mark re- 
ceived two letters from home. They 
came just as he was feeling much dis- 
couraged, because that, notwithstanding 
all his efforts, he yet experienced much 
of the effects of the atmosphere in which 
he was living. They may not have all 
the inspiriting influence upon others in 
similar circumstances which they had 
upon him, because, apart from the words 
of counsel in themselves, they came to 
him surrounded with all the associations 
of affection and home ; but still they may 
perhaps be considered worth preserving. 

The first which he opened was written 



TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 103 

in the-large rouiicl hand, the lines of which 
were yet so unsteady, which he recog- 
nized as that of his uncle Jack. It began : 

"Dear Boy: I have not much of a 
fist to handle a pen, as you know, for 
the worst of it is, they wall make them 
so small, that there's nothing to lay hold 
on. I never w^as one to refuse to lend 
a hand to haul a line or throw a har- 
poon, but then you see, when you've 
got hold of them you know where you 
are, and what they is ; but I do assure 
you, if it wasn't for my eyes, I couldn't 
tell you now whether I had a pen atween 
my fingers or no. If you should meet 
with any pens a decent size over in 
Bristol, I '11 trouble you to buy me one ; 
so I can't help it if the letters is not so 
ship-shape as they ought to be. 

*'I have seen your mother last week, 
and she read me part of your letter. 
My dear boy, don't be down-hearted: 



ia-4 MARK STEADMAN. 

if you supposes you 're the first man 
that discovered quicksands and met with 
foul weather, why all I can tell you is, 
that you 're very much mistook. So 
long as you 've got the Pilot with you, 
you '11 weather many a storm yet ; and 
we sha n't expect to hear you 've made 
a wreck of it, for you 're not the first 
by a great deal, that He have brought 
through worse dangers safe into port; 
letting alone that he knows every wave, 
and every wind, and everj^ rock, as well 
as any thing, for haven't he made the 
whole voyage first of all himself, and 
alone? As the hymn says — it goes best 
to 'Portugal' — 

* ' ' By prayer let me MTestle, 

And he will perform ; 
With Christ in the vessel, 

I smile at the storm. 
Each sweet Eben-Ezer 

I have in review, 
Confirms his good pleasure 

To help me quite through.* 



TEIALS AND ENCOUEAGEMENTS. 105 

Therefore, my clear boy, cheer up, mind 
your orders, keep a good look ahead, 
let every thing be in sailing trim, and 
never mind a few squalls. The Lord 
bless and keep thee, and make his face 
to shine upon thee. 

"Your affectionate uncle, 

"JOHN MASTERS." 

The other letter, Mark saw with pleas- 
ure, was from Mr. GrifSths : 

"My dear Mark : I was much pleased 
to receive your letter, and have been 
waiting until I could command a little 
leisure, that 1 might reply to it more at 
length. I am glad to hear that you like 
your situation so well, and find your 
companions so pleasant, but am not sur- 
prised at the difficulties to which you 
allude. 

"I believe there is but one way of 
overcoming the influences of worldly 
associations, and that means, happily, 



106 MARK STEADMAN. 

lies in every one's hands ; it is, to use 
more than ordinary diligence in endeav- 
oring to keep the mind filled with holy 
thoughts and feelings, and firmly fixed 
on God's truth. Many persons fancy 
that to lead a spiritual life, some extra- 
ordinary revelations are required, and 
some very peculiar line of conduct must be 
adopted ; but the common way in which 
God blesses our souls, and by which we 
may daily grow in grace and in the 
knowledge of Jesus Christ, is by the 
frequent stndy of his word and constant 
prayer for the grace of the Holy Spirit. 
I have no better plan to suggest to you 
than this old-fashioned one ; and I must 
remind you that faithfulness and dili- 
gence in the use of these means are far 
higher qualities in themselves, and more 
blessed of God, than ingenuity in dis- 
covering new methods of obtaining the 
blessings we need. The greater you 



ijLtlALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. 107 

find your tendency to be influenced by 
eai'thl}^ tilings, give the more time to 
prayer, meditation, and the study of the 
Scriptures. These exercises, I believe, 
lie at the root of all strength and holi- 
ness of character ; they are the true food 
of the soul, the sap b}^ which we main- 
tain our union to the Vine, in which our 
life consists. By these we may hold 
fast to Christ our Saviour and our hope ; 
and in thus clinging to him, we shall not 
fall, though our enemies may be many 
and subtle. Take courage then, my 
dear Mark ; as long as you hold fast to 
God, be assured he will never forsake 
you, or suffer you to be tempted bej^ond 
what you can bear, and beyond what is 
good and needful for you. I am very 
glad that you have been able at once to 
let it be^ seen whose you are, and whom 
you desire to serve. Yery much de- 
pends on this ; for if you allow yourself 



108 MARK STEADMAN. 

at first to be considered as belonging to 
the world, it is exceedingly difficult to 
declare yourself afterwards, and every 
word and act that does this v/ill be a 
battle ; whereas by taking your ground 
at once, you will be expected after- 
wards to live according to the part you 
have chosen. 

" With regard to your question about 
what are called 'worldly amusements,' 
I really have very little to say. You 
do not of course refer to those of which 
the pleasure consists in sin ; there can 
be but one course in regard to these ; 
and as to those wliich cannot with jus- 
tice be called evil in themselves, you can 
judge by the effect on your own mind. 

"Many things, though they may not 
be absolutely unlawful, are yet not ex- 
pedient. And other engagements are 
undoubtedly of the world, and can only 
suit a worldly spirit; their associations 



• TRIALS AND ENCOUKAGEMENTS. 109 

and tendencies are unfriendly to reli- 
gions habits and feelings. Cultivate 
cheerful piety ; avoid all that is frivo- 
lous and unseemly. 

"You will be glad to hear that your 
vacant place in the class is already filled 
by a lad whom your Uncle Jack picked 
up on the pier one Sunday afternoon, 
and persuaded to attend. He had only 
come to the town the evening before, 
and has been under good influences at 
home, so that we are very much pleased 
to get hold of him. I saw your uncle 
last Sabbath. He vras on his way to the 
Bethel ship, and looked very well and 
happy, having three young sailors in 
tow. 

"I hope, my dear Mark, you will write 
me a long letter again soon ; pra}^ re- 
member the pleasure it is. to rae to hear 
from you, and how much interested I am 
in all your difficulties and temptations; 



110 MARK STEADMAN. 

write to me freely, and ask me as many 
questions as you please. I often think 
of you, and pray that God may train 
you by these trials into a good soldier 
of Jesus Christ; for we are not called 
to put on the Christian armor merely 
that we may live a life of ease, but that 
we may fight the battles of the Lord. 
"Believe me always 

" Your very sincere Friend, 

"HENRY GRIFFITHS." 



TRIALS AND ENCOURAGEMENTS. Ill 



CHAPTER YII. 

y^ Trial of j^rinciple. 

The six months appointed by Mr. 
Watson as Mark's probation were now 
drawing towards a close. Three weeks 
only of the term remained, and Mark 
was becoming very anxious to know his 
uncle's opinion, of his services, and 
whether he considered them worth re- 
taining at a fixed salary. He had en- 
deavored, as far as he could, to perform 
every duty which fell to him as per- 
fectly as possible, and to seek his un- 
cle's interest in disposing of the goods 
in the shop to the best of his power, "as 
ever in the great Taskmaster's eye ;" 
and hitherto he had found that the ser- 
vice of God, for him, consisted in thus 
attending as faithfully and diligently as 



112 MAKK STEADMAN. 

he could to the duties of his situation as 
junior assistant in his uncle's shop. So 
well had he done this, that Mr. Watson 
had frequently commended his prudence 
and sagacity in many little matters con- 
nected with the business ; and Mark, 
while daily seeking help from God in 
his work, had come to the conclusion 
that godliness is as profitable for the 
life that now is— meaning by that, the 
getting on in the world — as it is for the 
life to come. 

A circumstance, nevertheless, now oc- 
curred, for which he was wholly unpre- 
pared, and which ""led him to see that, 
however much prudence and industry, 
with God's blessing, may tend to earthly 
prosperity, yet that in themselves they 
must never be the end of the Christian, 
vrhose aim is to seek first the kingdom 
of God and His righteousness, trusting 
in Him to add all other needful thiuo's. 



A TEIAL OF PEIKCIPLE. 113 

"Ye cannot serve God and mammon," 
is as true in these da^^s as when our 
Saviour first uttered the v/ords ; although 
it is equally true that we see man}^ good 
men who, while serving God first, have 
been blessed with the riches and pros- 
perity of this world. 

It happened one day that in opening 
a package newly received, Mr. Watson 
took out a piece of silk, wdiich he desired 
Mark to measure off into dresses of 
twelve yards each, and mark as such. 
Mark measured the silk, and found there 
were barely thirty-five yards. 

"I must cut one of the dresses only 
eleven yards, sir,'' said Mark; "there 
are scarcely thirty -five yards in the 
piece." 

"What an abominable shame that 
is," exclaimed Mr. Watson ; " that 's the 
way they all serve us now-a-days. No, 
3'ou must divide the silk into three; I 



Mark cteadniso. 



114: MARK STEADMAN. 

can't afford to lose a yard of that silk ; 
I 've paid ten pounds for that piece, and 
I must have three dresses out of it/' 

" Of course I am not to mark them at 
twelve yards," said Mark. 

*' And why not?'' asked Mr. Watson. 

"Because they won't be much more 
than eleven vards and a half," answer- 
ed Mark. 

" I can't help that," replied his uncle ; 
g'it 's not my fault. If other people 
cheat, I can't afford to lose." 

Mark hesitated, and put the silk down. 

"Come, no nonsense," continued Mr. 
Watson ; "I am sure I wish with all my 
heart the old times would come back 
again, when men dealt honestly with 
one another ; but it 's no use now-a-days. 
You must buy and sell as other people 
do, or else shut up shop altogether." 

"But why need ' 12 yds.' be marked 
on these dresses ?" said Mark. 



A TEIAL OF PEINCIPLE. 115 

'' Why," replied Mr. Watson, " if you 
mark eleven yards and a half, of CQurse 
a customer will expect to pay less, be- 
cause of the short length. You '11 never 
do business that way, bo}^ ; so do as I 've 
told you at once." 

'' I do n't think it can be right," began 
Mark. 

''Hold your tongue," said his uncle ; 
" it 's my affair, and not yours. It 's my 
shop, and my goods, and it is I who say 
it, and not you. You only do as you 
are bid ;" and he hastih^ left the shop. 

A hearty laugh behind him caused 
Mark to turn round. 

''Oh for Diogenes and his lantern!" 
exclaimed Charlie Archer. "Here, la- 
dies and gentlemen," continued he, 
pointing towards Mark, "here you be- 
hold the remains of that extinct species 
of humanity — the honest man. In the 
days when mastodons and ichthyosauri 



116 MAEK STEADMAN. 

walked about upon the earth, this lost 
race of mankind is also supposed to have 
existed. Civilization and commerce 
have, however, driven them to the ut- 
most limits of creation,, and there is no 
room for them now in any well-to-do com- 
munity. Here, in this mistaken indi- 
vidual, you behold one of the last speci- 
mens, and I strongly recommend him 
either to shut himself up in a glass-case 
and take him.self about as a curiosity, or 
to depart for another sphere, where his 
special characteristics may be appreci- 
ated. He is certainly not tit for the dirty 
business of this work-a-day world ;" and 
saying this, he took the piece of silk out 
of Mark's hands, and proceeded to meas- 
ure off and mark the dresses as Mr. 
"Watson had directed. 

It happened, unfortunately, as perhaps 
some may think, that the same afternoon, 
a lady whom Mark had already served 



A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 117 

to several things, happened to catch 
sight of one of these dresses l^ing on 
the counter. She immediately asked to 
look at it, inquired the price, and then 
said, "You are quite sure as to the 
quantity, I suppose ?'' / 

Mark hesitated: Mr. Watson was 
standing: near ; but Mark could not tell 
a direct lie. 

"Will you be so good as to measure 
it r said the lady. 

Mark took up the measure ; but at 
that moment Charlie Archer came for- 
ward, and taking it out of Mark's hand, 
said in his most polite manner, "I meas- 
ured these very dresses by Mr. Wat- 
son's desire this morning, so that I am 
quite sure as to their length ; but still, if 
you desire to see it done, ma'am, I shall 
have no objection to do so over again." 

" Certainly not," replied the lady, 
"your word is quite sufficient; besides, 



118 MAEK STEADMAN. 

I do not know that I have made up my 
mind to purchase one; I rather think I 
will consider of it a little, and wait till 
the season is more advanced." 

Charlie Archer added a few more 
^vords of persuasion, but without effect, 
for the lady left the shop without making 
any further purchases. 

A few days after this, Mark was 
alarmed by a message that Mr. Watson 
desired to see him in Miss Finch's par- 
lor. He went up stairs, and with fear 
opened the door ; for though he was not 
conscious of having done any thing 
wrong, yet the very idea of a private 
interview with his uncle made him feel 
timid and uncomfortable. 

"I wanted to speak to you, Mark,'^ 
began Mr. Watson, "because the time 
is so nearly expired for wdiich I engaged 
you on trial. In many respects, I have 
been very much pleased with you ; but 



A TllIAL OF PllINCirLE. 119 

there is one tbiiig which I fear will 
greatly stand in your wa}^, and prevent 
your ever becoming an efficient assistant 
and good man of business. I do not 
wish to refer to any particular circum- 
stances, but what I mean is a disposi- 
tion to question and cavil about things. 
To get on in the world it is necessary 
to act with decision and at once, without 
waiting to call up any fanciful notions 
or scruples of conscience, as perhaps 
you may term them ; such hesitation and 
dela}^ are always fatal to success. You 
must take the world as it is, and deal 
with it in its own way ; you can neither 
make it what you would like, nor can 
jou. do business in it otherwise than 
after its own fashion. For my own part, 
I much regret the present state of things, 
and I really believe, with all the talk 
there is about the spread of religion and 
doing good, that people only get worse 



120 MAKK STEADMAN. 

and worse, and are ready to take advan- 
tage of one another in every possible 
way. That being the case, one can only- 
look out for oneself; and, as I have said 
already, much as I deplore the neces- 
sity-, yet one must act according to the 
w^ay one is treated by others. Do you 
understand me V^ 

"I do not exactly know what you 
mean me to do," said Mark, who v/as 
but little given to analyze motives, but 
rather judged of an action by the prompt 
verdict of a conscience cultivated ac- 
cording to the principles of God's vford. 

" Wh;v, I should have thought you 
might have seen ii,^^ replied his uncle, a 
little impatiently. "What I mean is, 
that I cannot have you disputing and 
questioning about wdiat you have to do 
here. There is nothing I hate so much 
as a prig, and I never will have one in 
my establishment. I have told you al- 



A TIIIAL OF PKINCIPLE. 121 

ready that I have the best and soundest 
reasons for all I wish you to do — rea- 
sons Avhich, with your ignorance of the 
^yorid, you may not be able to enter 
into ; I wish, therefore, to come to an 
understanding with you at once, and let 
you see plainly that I am not going to 
suffer my wa}^ of doing business to be 
called in question by you, and con- 
demned as not being in accordance y/ith 
some weak notions you may have in 
your head, or as in opposition to some 
trivial precept you may have learned in 
the Sunday-school, which was only in- 
tended to be applied to a boy's conduct, 
and had nothing w^hatever to do with 
business affairs." 

"But surely, sir, you allow that each 
man ought to consider his own actions, 
and avoid Vvdiat is wrong; for himself? I 
did not mean, I assure you, to judge of 
vours in anv way,'' said Mark. 



122 MAEK STEADMAN. 

"That's a mere quibble," replied Mr. 
Watson. "If your conscience, or what- 
ever you call it, will not allo\v you to 
do what I tell you — you, in your refusal, 
judge and condemn me ; and that is a 
species of priggishness that I never will 
endure." 

"I must think of whether a thing is 
right or wrong for myself before I do 
it," answered Mark. 

"Of course, of course,*' said his uncle, 
"you need n't pretend to teach me that ; 
I am not referring to your private ac- 
tions, only to w^hat you do as my assist- 
ant." 

Mark was silent for a moment. He 
could not quite see why he was to cheat 
and tell a lie for his uncle, and yet hes- 
itate to do the same for himself; and he 
feared that, apart from the sin in either 
case, the habits might so grow upon him 
that he should before long lose his sense 



A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 123 

of integrity in all the relations of life. 
Before he could speak again, however, 
his uncle continued : 

"I would willingl}' keep you, Mark, 
on many accounts. You are a stead};^ 
lad, not like many now-a-days, and I 
should be glad to help your mother, for 
she is a good woman ; and the way she 
has kept you all since your father's 
death, without applying to his relations, 
does her great credit. I also take into 
account that, having been brought up 
by her, your ideas Avould naturally be a 
little romantic: v/omen always like to 
inculcate all kinds of exalted sentiments 
that are wholly useless when one gets 
out in the world. Now, I think if you 
do not make any perverse endeavor in 
your own mind to retain these impres- 
sions, they will all wear away in a little 
time, and then you will make a valua- 
ble assistant. Mr. Green is leaving me 



124 MARK. STEADMAN. 

soon, and I slionld raise your position 
and salary.*' 

"But,"' said Mark, ''v/hat I am most 
afraid of is, lest my ideas of right and 
wrong should become in any way changed, 
and lest I should be overcome to seek 
my own interests instead of endeavoring 
to serve God. If I did stay with you, 
sir, this is just v/hat I should try the 
most to watch and guard against.'' 

"Then," replied his uncle, "I have 
nothing more to say. I have told you 
my opinions, and have taken some pains 
to explain them to you. Perhaps expe- 
rience may make you see these things 
in a different light. Hitherto your pecu- 
liarities have stood little in your way — 
nay, very likely you have heard your- 
self praised for them ; but when you 
find how hard it is to get on now-a- 
days, and how impossible sometimes to 
get bread to eat even, you will find that 



A TPtlAL OF PRINCIPLE. 125 

all wliicli I have said is perfectly true, 
and YOU will bitterly repent your pres- 
ent folly/' 

Mark left tlie room, his mind thor- 
oughly disturbed and confused. He 
longed for solitude to think out the ideas 
thronging in upon him, among the most 
prominent of which w^as the feeling that 
God no longer blessed and prospered 
the righteous, but that it was the wrong- 
doer whose evil v/orks v/ere crowned 
with success. Fortunately for him in 
his present frame of mind, instead of 
dwelling on these thoughts, he was 
obliged immediately to throw himself 
into active occupation, and thus when 
the evening came and he was left to 
himself, his excitement had in some 
measure subsided. Then he began calm- 
ly to consider whether it really was im- 
possible to serve both God and mam- 
mon, and if so, whether there were not 



12G MARK STEADMAN. 

a certain hardness and injustice in the 
fact that in yielding his whole allegiance 
to Grod, the maker of all the earth, in 
whose hands were all its blessings, he 
should thereby suffer the loss of his sit- 
uation, and of as it appeared to him, the 
only means b}^ which he might provide 
for himself and help his family. 

Mark did not know that this was the 
very question which had so perplexed 
David, and that the same difficulty had 
also presented itself, at some time or 
other, to almost every one who has ear- 
nestly desired to serve God, and tempted 
him to cry out in the bitterness of his 
depression, "How doth God know? and 
is there knowledge in the Most High ? 
Behold, these are the ungodly who pros- 
per in the world ; they increase in riches. 
Yerily I have cleansed my heart in 
vain, and washed my hands in innocen- 
cy." But when the psalmist went into 



A TRIAL OF rrtlXCIPLE. 127 

the house of God, then he was enabled 
to understand better the purpose of Grod 
in the arrangement of those things whieh 
concern our lives upon earth. He saw 
then that the ungodl}' are often set on 
high slippery places to their own de- 
struction ; and that the distribution of 
the treasures of this world does indeed 
lie in the hand of God alone, but that 
they are used by him not as mere re- 
wards for right actions, but as part of 
a grand system of training, by which 
the souls of those who trust in Him are 
continually prepared more and more to 
live in another world than this ; for this 
" meetness for heaven " does not consist 
in any peculiar magical transformation, 
but in the daily growth within us of all 
those qualities which are there most 
highly esteemed, and are needful for 
entering into the employments and pleas- 
ures of that higher sphere. Such quali- 



128 MARK STEADMAN. 

fications for living in that world as love, 
self-denial, patience, unbounded trust in 
God, humility, courage, sincerity, are 
all the fruits of that training which God 
here provides for us ; and this world is 
ours not in the sense of possession, but 
in that it supplies all the materials which 
are needed for this cultivation. It was 
vrhen David saw this that he could cry 
out, notwithstanding the prosperity of 
the wicked and the trials of the right- 
eous, "Xevertheless, I am continually 
with thee : thou hast holden me by my 
right hand. Thou shalt guide me with 
thy counsel, and afterward receive me 
to glory.'' 

It vras not possible for Mark, who 
knew so little of life, either in himself 
or others, and had never experienced 
the beneficial efi'ects of trial in his own 
character, to understand at once what 
was the meanino; of the fact which now 



A TRIAL OF PRINCIPLE. 129 

surprised and pained him ; but he turned 
from the perplexing consideration of it 
to look up to God in that faith which is 
possible to all. "Is it true," thought 
he, "that one cannot, as I once thought, 
meet with the reward of honesty and 
diligence in earthly prosperit}^ and suc- 
cess ? But still God is above all ; he is 
our Father, and it must be for some 
wise reason that all my best efforts have 
ended in failure. One can only press 
on in the same way, for his favor is bet- 
ter than life, and our Saviour, when he 
was tempted to make the supply of his 
wants his first thought, replied: "Man 
shall not live by bread alone, but by 
every word that proceedeth out of the 
mouth of God." 



M»ik ftttartman. 



130 MAEK STEADMAN. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

as is the m.aster, so is the 
Servant. 

It happened one clay, a short time 
after Mark's conversation with his uncle, 
that when he entered the sitting room to 
dinner, he found his companions busy 
discussing the merits of some entertain- 
ment, a bill of which they held in their 
hands. 

" It is a first-rate affair, I knov^," said 
Mr. Cocks, as Mark took his seat at 
table; "and I should think even Mr. 
Steadman would have no scruples of 
conscience at attending such a thing as 
this." 

"Combining instruction and amuse- 
ment," said Charlie Archer, "with noth- 
ing to offend the most fastidious taste f 



MASTER AND SEllVAXT. 131 

and lie handed Mark the bill of an- 
nouncement. 

Mark looked at the bill, and saw that 
the entertainment was a lecture on the 
Music of England, illustrated by con- 
certed pieces of different periods. "I 
should think it would be very nice,'' 
said he ; " and I should like very much 
to go." 

"It's first-class, I know," asserted 
Mr. Cocks again, "and every body 
ought to hear it." 

"Suppose we take a family ticket, 
and go in style for once," suggested Mr. 
Green; "you see we can have one to 
admit four to the reserved seats for ten 
shillings ; that will be only half-a-crowu 
apiece." 

"I am afraid I cannot go," said Mark 
suddenly. 

"Why upon earth not?" exclaimed 
all three of the young men at once. 



132 MARE STEADMAX. 

"Because I can't,'' replied Mark; 
'' I 'm very sorry, but it is quite impos- 
sible." 

''Trust your good people for being 
disagreeable," said Mr. Cocks; "it's 
just what tliey delight in." 

"Indeed," replied Mark, "it is not 
that ; I should like to go very much in- 
deed, if T could ; I do not mean that I 
see any harm in it, only I cannot, that 
is all." 

"He can't because he can't," said 
Charlie Archer; "and that's a reason 
that no one can answer; so let him 
alone." 

Just then a call from the shop sum- 
moned Mr. Cocks away, and nothing 
more passed on the subject during the 
meal. 

In the evening Mark paid a visit to 
Mr. Locke, and with some difficulty 
made up his mind to consult him about 



MASTER AND SERVANT. 133 

his future. Mr. Locke fully approved 
all that Mark had said to his uncle, but 
he suggested to him that probably Mr. 
Watson might yet be unwilling to lose 
him as an assistant, for he must at any 
rate feel that he could depend on Mark's 
lionesty and integrity as regarded him- 
self and any thing intrusted to his care ; 
and this he might, in thinking it over, 
regard as so valuable a qualification that 
he would consent to dispense with an 
implicit obedience to those directions 
wdiich Mark could not conscientiously 
comply with. Mark himself had little 
hope of this, and it wanted but a few 
days now when the six months of his 
probation with his uncle would be over. 
When Mark returned home, he found 
to his surprise Charlie Archer in the 
parlor, for it was seldom that either of 
these young men spent an evening in 
the house. * As Mark entered, he threw 



134 MARK STEADMAN. 

clown the book he had been reading, and 
exclaimed: "I in thankful to see a fel- 
low-creature at last ; for here I 've been 
for the last hour, poring over one of 
Green's stupid novels with the most 
awful headache, and no one to speak a 
w^ord.'' 

"I should have thought 3'ou would 
have been glad to have been quiet," said 
Mark, "if your head is so bad." 

" I dare say you would," replied Ar- 
cher; "but quiet does not suit me. I 
am not fond of reflection, unless it is 
some very agreeable anticipation of the 
future." 

"It's a good thing sometimes, when 
one has nothing better to do, to review 
oneself a little," said Mark. 

"That, I have no doubt, is a highly 
agreeable occupation,"' answered Ar- 
cher, " when one looks in and sees eve- 
rything arranged in perfect order, so 



MASTER AND SERVANT. 135 

that one can stand and admire the grat- 
ifying result ^v[i\\ a pleasing glow of sat- 
isfaction ; but unfortunately that is not 
my case. If I ever venture to glance 
within, I see such a jumble of matters, 
good, bad, and indifferent, all thrown 
together in such hopeless confusion, that 
I hastily draw back, and rush ofi" to 
something more entertaining. I dare 
say now with you it is otherwise ; and 
I remember once when I used to enjoy 
thinking what a good little boy I was." 

" I should suppose that was when you 
knew less of yourself than at present 
even,'' said Mark. 

"That's very true; I certainly did 
know very little of myself in those days," 
replied Archer ; "but you see other peo- 
ple thought I was a very excellent boy, 
and so I easily persuaded myself that it 
was true." 

" When was that?" asked Mark. 



136 MARK STSADMAN. 

"Ob, years ago; quite in the dark 
ages!" said Archer. "I was at school 
then, and the masters and many of the 
boys were what you would call decided 
Christians, and so I fell in with the rest. 
I found it was eas}^ and pleasant to do 
so ; and hearing good things often talked 
about, and good feelings so often de- 
scribed, I in a certain way adopted them 
all for my own, and had grand ideas of 
preaching the gospel to others, and go- 
ing out as a missionary to distant lands. 
I fancied I liked self-denial, and I thought 
I should find all the world just like those 
who were then around me. My father 
was a missionary, but he and my mother 
both died in India, and I was sent home 
to my uncle. He had a large family of 
children of his own, and could not afford 
to spend much upon me ; at least so he 
always said ; but he sent me to school, 
and there also I passed most of my holi- 



MASTER AND SEllVANT. 137 

days too, for there was generally some 
reason Avliy I could not return to his 
house. Towards the end of the last half 
3'ear, I wrote him a very line letter, in 
which I set forth in a highl}^ exalted 
style my desire to devote myself to the 
conversion of the heathen in distant 
lands. I thought, when I had written 
it, that it was a beautiful production, 
quite fit to be inserted in the memoir of 
mj'Self, which I had no doubt would be 
written after, of course, m}^ early death. 
To my surprise, my uncle appeared to 
regard it in quite a different light. He 
w^rote back a few lines, to say that the 
whole scheme was absurd ; that -there 
were no means of my going 4.0 college, 
but that I must bestir myself at once to 
get my own living, and put all such fan- 
tastic ideas out of my head." 

" And what did you do ?" asked Mark. 

" It was a great blow to me at first, 1 



138 MARK STEADMAN. 

must confess,'' coutiuued Archer, "to 
find that those ideas and feelings I had 
been used to think so praiseworthy were 
not held as such by all the world. Still, 
I knew that good people often were per- 
secuted, and so I made up my mind that 
I was going to be. 

"Yery soon there came another let- 
ter from my uncle, telling me that he 
had found a situation for me in Bristol, 
in a linen-draper's shop. I really was 
no hypocrite, Steadman, whatever you 
may think. I assure you this was a 
bitter disappointment to me. though of 
course it was all nonsense about being a 
missionary, and I see now that my uncle 
was quite right." 

"But, Archer," said Mark, "you 
could have served God as well in a dra- 
per's shop as in a heathen land." 

"So my master at the school kept tell- 
ing me," replied Archer; "but, some- 



MASTER AND SERVANT. 139 

how, it seemed altogether a different 
affair to me. Still, I came here with 
some ideas of being an example to all 
my other companions, and of teaching 
and benefiting them. When I arrived, 
however, I found they treated me at 
once as just like themselves. This rather 
put me aback ; I had expected to be 
persecuted ; but finding they discovered 
nothing to laugh at in me, I was very 
careful that they should continue to treat 
me so pleasantly. Yery soon I found 
that it was easier to amuse them than to 
improve them ; so I gave up the latter 
idea altogether. I am not like you, 
Steadman ; you let us see the first night 
you came what you were ; but I must 
confess I have not your courage." 

"Why, Archer,'' began Mark, "I 
should have thought that you didn't 
care for what any one said of you, you 
are so ready always with an answer, 



140 MAKK STEAD MAN. 

and can turn the laugh against any one 
who attacks you directly. Now, for 
me, I really find it the most difficult 
thing very often to get the words I 
know I ought to speak out of my mouth. 
Oh, you don't know what hard work 
this has been to me since I have been 
here ; and I am sure, without God's 
help, I never could have got on at all.'' 

Archer was silent for some time, 
pressing his hands to his forehead. 

After a vfhile he said suddenly : 
"Mark, why did you refuse to go to 
the entertainment this morning? Do 
you imagine there can be anything 
w^rong in it?" 

"My reason had nothing to do with 
that," said Mark. " I simply could not 
bring mj^self to declare openly that I 
was so ill-provided with money when I 
came here, that I have not even half-a- 
crown to spare now." 



MASTER AND SERVANT. 1-il 

*'0b, that was it," said Archer. 
"Well, that is no matter, you can just 
borrow that of Mr. Watson." 

"But 1 do not like to ask him," an- 
swered Mark, " especially just now." 

"You need not ask him for such a 
trifle as that," replied Archer. "Take 
it, man ; you can pay it back in a day 
or two, w^hen you have your sal- 
ary." 

" Take it!" exclaimed Mark. "What, 
from the shop ? Indeed, Archer, I could 
not do such a thing.'' 

" Why, what's the matter?" said Ar- 
cher. "I did not say, Keep it, I only 
suggested to you to borrow^ it. It is just 
what everybody does ; onh^ you are so 
green and ignorant." 

" But I do not think it would be bor- 
rowing it, unless Mr. Watson lent it. 
Xo man has a right to help himself to 
another's property without his leave, '^ 



142 MAEK STEADMAK. 

replied Mark. " Oh, I am certain it is 
not right.'' 

''A¥ell,'' returned Archer, "you may 
argue about it, but Mr. Watson cannot 
complain ; for, as you 3"ourself know, he 
takes, not^ bo7Tows, from his customers, 
half a yard of silk, worth half-a-crown, 
besides numbers of other things of the 
same kind, which he cannot make up to 
them in any way. Now I cannot agree 
with G-reen altogether, who considers 
that if he stops away from supper a few 
nights, he thus repays Mr. Watson for 
what he may have borrowed ; and I think 
he estimates the expense his supper 
would be, if he ate it here, too highly. 
If I take any thing, I keep an account 
of it, and put it back most scrupulously 
as soon as I get my salary. Why, if you 
chose, you can even pay interest. But 
I shall have less necessity for borrowing 
again, for I am to have Green's situation 



MASTER AND SERVANT. U3 

and salary when he goes ; and you I 
suppose will step into mine.'' 

"Xo," replied Mark, "I shall leave 
next week. My six months are up then, 
and Mr Watson does not wish me to 
stay." 

" Indeed V exclaimed Archer. " How 
is that?'' 

"Why, I dare say you will think it 
very foolish," said Mark : " but I cannot 
agree to do every thing he wishes, with- 
out any consideration whether it is right ; 
and he says, therefore, I shall never 
make a good salesman, and I had better 
leave at once." 

'' Foolish ! I should think it was," re- 
plied Archer. "Don^t go, Mark ; you'll 
find it far harder than you think to get 
another situation, and besides, in many 
places you might have far worse things 
to do. Make up your mind to it ; one 
must live in the world, and it will all 



U4 MAEK STEADAIAN. 

come right bj-and-by, and easy enougli 
to 3^ou. Eemember v/liat I have told 
you about myself."' 

"Archer/' began Mark gravely, "I 
do not in the least believe you were a 
hypocrite then ; I believe you really felt 
all you .thought 3^ou did, in a certain 
way ; but I am sure you did not then 
feel exactly the same as I do now." 

"And how is that?" asked Archer. 

"Why," said Mark, "I have never 
had such good thoughts as you describe 
about going out as a missionary, and 
perhaps I have thought too little about 
doing good to others ; but I feel as though 
no life could be so insupportable, as one 
in which I should be called upon in any 
way to offend God, and to break the 
commands of Him who has been bej'^ond 
all expression good to me, in that he 
gave his life that I might live, and has 
lielped me in ways that I cannot tell 



MASTER AND SERVANT. 145 

you about. How could I agiee to any 
thing, then, which I know is displeasing 
to my best friend and Saviour ?'' 

"Mark," replied Archer, "you are 
too good for this world, that 's the fact. 
One must live, as you will find by-and- 
by. Miracles of loaves and fishes don't 
happen now-a-days.'' 

"Why did you once wish to be a mis- 
sionary?" asked Mark. 

"Oh, I don't know," answered Ar- 
cher; "because I knew no better, I 
believe. I fancied then that it was a 
fine thing, for I often heard it spoken of 
in this way, and I thought I should like 
to be the best thing I could be, and I 
expected every one would think I was 
very good to wish for it. It was some- 
thing like that." 

"Archer," began Mark again, after a 
little silence, "I think — I am afraid at 
least — I do not know — but I cannot 



146 MAEK STEADMAN. 

understand this being your only feeling 
about it." 

'•I know what you want to say per- 
fectly well, my good fellow, with all 
your 'thinks' and 'afraids' and 'can't 
understands.' You want to tell me," 
said Archer, "that you do not believe I 
ever did really understand religion, or 
took it up as a thing of the life and 
heart — that there was no principle in 
me. .Well, perhaps it was so; at any 
rate, I have given up the idea now, and 
cannot begin the same thing again here : 
after all, these things are very uncer- 
tain ; I must take my chance." 

" Archer," said Mark earnestly, 
"how can you speak so ? Surely, if you 
look at it merely in the light of self- 
interest ; if you only believe that there 
is a heaven and a hell, and a way to en- 
ter the one and escape the other, it is of 
deep importance to us to know what that 



MASTER AND SEllVAXT. 147 

way is ; and it is worth while, at any 
cost, to enter upon it, and to strive to 
walk in it. Even if you do not regard 
the claims which God has upon us to 
accept by faith the salvation he has 
offered us in his Son, and to give our- 
selves up to his service, yet, for the sake 
of our own souls, it is a serious matter 
to reject and trifle with these things. Do 
not be angry with me, Archer, but I do 
think that you never have really known 
what it is to feel oneself as a sinner, 
utterly lost as regards heaven, or a true 
life in this world, until Jesus takes one 
up, and gives one life and joy and hope.'' 

''Ah, Steadman,'"' said Archer, rising, 
"I am a bad subject, I believe, and my 
head is splitting, so I must really be off 
to bed. Good night.'' 

Mark looked vexed as Archer took up 
a candle and was leaving the room. Just 
as he had reached the door, however, he 



U8 MAEK STEADMAN. 

hesitated a moment, and then coming 
back, he put his hand on Mark's shoul- 
der, and said : 

'' Don't look so grieved, old fellow ; I 
am not in the least hurt at any thino- you 
can say to me, and there — well — I try 
to brave it off as well as I can ; but if 
it is any consolation to you, I assure 
^-^ou, since you have been here, I have 
thought a great deal about my own con- 
dition, and bothered myself finely at 
times. I know I am all wrong, but I 
feel as though I should never be any 
thing different." 

" Archer," said Mark, "indeed 3^ou 
need not think so, I am sure — " 

"Never mind. Good night," inter- 
rupted Archer, and left the room. 

A new and strange feeling took pos- 
session of Mark's mind that night. It 
was the first time that he had realized 
that he might exercise an influence for 



MASTER AND SERVANT. 149 

good over others. He had always been 
so accustomed to look on himself as 
among, the learners, rather than the 
teachers, that he had scarcely regarded 
it as possible that he could produce any 
impression on another mind, or direct in 
any way its thoughts or feelings. Now 
an earnest sentiment of pity filled his 
soul, which w^as-in itself both sweet and 
painful, as he thought over the state of 
his companion ; and he felt as though he 
could do or suffer any thing, so that only 
Archer might be brought to know and 
feel those truths, the possession of which 
v/as all the world to himself. He knew 
that the power and love of the Good 
Shepherd could be extended to every 
wandering sheep ; and Mark earnestly 
besought the Saviour that night, to bring 
this wanderer into the holy and happy 
number of his flock. 



150 MAEK STEADMAN. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The ^carlet Feyer. 

"He must be removed at once/' were 
Miss Finch's decisive words to Mr. Wat- 
son, as she descended the staircase with 
him on the following morning. 

"We will wait, at anjM-ate, till Dr. 
Long comes,'" replied Mr. Watson ; "but 
I think myself there 's no doubt that it 
is scarlet fever." 

"It is always desirable to act with 
promptitude," said Miss Finch. "De- 
lays in these cases are most dangerous : 
lodgings must be taken for him at once." 

"Perhaps it might be well to make 
inquiries in the neighborhood," answered 
Mr. Watson. "But it won't do, of 
course, to have it known that there 's a 
case of scarlet fever in the house, or 



THE SCAELET FEVEK. 151 

• 

every one will be afraid to come near 
the shop. If it's only a slight attack, 
] should think you might manage to 
keep it all quiet up stairs. Archer is 
too useful to me to be able to afford to 
lose him out of the house. We do n't 
kno\v when we might get him back 
again." 

''And what is to become of us P''' ex- 
claimed Miss Finch in horror. "I assure 
3'ou, Mr. Watson, I, for one, could not 
possibly remain in a house where there 
was scarlet fever. It is the most infec- 
tious of epidemics." 

" But I dare say you had it when you 
were y — , I mean, some years ago," said 
Mr. Watson, correcting himself before 
he had spoken that w^ord, which Miss 
Finch abhorred almost as much as the 
scarlet fever. 

"That maybe," replied Miss Finch, 
"but people never are safe; and I as- 



152 MARK STEADMAN. 

sure you, Mr. Watson, no power on earth 
will induce me to remain another night 
in the house, if that young man is to be 
ill here with the scarlet fever." 

"I never said he was to remain,'^ 
replied Mr. Watson, somewhat impa- 
tiently. "If it is likely to be a bad 
case, of course he must go. I only want 
to consider what would be the best for 
the business. I expect Dr. Long will 
be here directly, and until he comes I 
shall do nothhig." 

Here Mr. Watson entered the door 
into the shop ; and Miss Finch, who sup- 
posed she ought not to go out until the 
doctor had called, in case Mr. Watson 
might wish her to make some further 
arrangements about lodgings, went into 
her room, (which was on the same floor 
as her parlor,) and putting on her bon- 
net, cloak, and furs, she returned to her 
sitting-room, and throwing open both 



THE SCARLET FEVER. 153 

the windows, allowed the bleak Decem- 
ber blast to blow through the room, 
while she sat in the farthest corner shiv- 
ering with cold and fright, utterly re- 
gardless that there were any sufferings 
which it might be in her power to relieve, 
or any one in the house needing a kind, 
cheerino; word. 

Due caution in regard to infectious 
diseases is more than merely prudent, 
it is right, and the duty of every Chris- 
tian. There is something, in fact, that 
seems to offer defiance to God in that 
reckless spirit w^hich fancies itself secure 
from every risk ; but, on the other hand, 
where the danger is very slight, and the 
duty very apparent, surely such fears 
are not only the result of a contempti- 
ble cowardice, but are utterly repugnant 
to that true spirit of self-forgetfulness, 
of which Christ himself was the most 
noble example. 



154 MAKE STEADMAN. 

Mark had heard at breakfast-time that 
Archer was not well, but he was busy 
in the shop all the morning, and was 
therefore greatly surprised and grieved 
when in the afternoon of the day he was 
told that Archer had been removed from 
the house to lodgings in the neighbor- 
hood. 

"And very thankful I am sure we 
may all be, Mr. Steadman,'' said Miss 
Finch, who, in answer to Mark's inqui- 
ries for his friend, communicated to him 
this intelligence, "that this step has been 
taken at once, for Dr. Long says that it 
is likel}^ to be a severe attack. I only 
hope we may none of us already have 
taken the infection. For my part, I 
have kept the windows of my apartment 
open the whole day, and am now going 
to the chemist to purchase fumigating 
powder.'' 

"But is there any one with Ai'cher?'' 



THE SCARLET FEYEE. 155 

asked Mark. "I am afraid he has no 
friends who could come to him." 

''An excellent nurse has been pro- 
vided, Mr. Steadman," replied Miss 
Finch; "and you may be sure she will 
pay him every proper attention, and 
carefully pursue the course recommend- 
ed by our esteemed medical attendant. '^ 

" I was not thinking of that exactly,'^ 
said Mark. 

" Of course no one in this house will 
be allowed to go near him, Mr. Stead- 
man," said Miss Finch. " Indeed, I be- 
lieve Mr. Watson wishes that the address 
of the lodgings should not be mentioned 
in the house, in order to prevent any 
kind of communication. I do not even 
know it myself." 

"I should not think of going there 
while I am here," answered Mark. 
"There would be the danger of carry- 
ing the infection to others ; for myself, 



156 MARK STEADMAN. 

I should not be afraid, as we all had the 
scarlet fever at home a few years ago." 

"You never can be too safe," said 
Miss Finch. "My opinion in such mat- 
ters is, that the first duty of everybody 
is to take care of himself." 

" If every one did so, what would be- 
come of people when they were ill, Miss 
Finch ?" Mark ventured to suggest. 

"Of course I did not refer to doctors 
and nurses, Mr. Steadman," replied Miss 
Finch ; " they are paid for the risk they 
run." 

Mark said no more, for a feeling of 
deep sadness filled his mind, such as he 
had seldom before experienced, at the 
thought of Archer's being so ill, and with 
no friend near him to speak a word of 
hope or consolation to his troubled spirit. 
Only last night Mark had stayed awake, 
fancying all that he would say to Ar- 
cher the very next time he could get an 



\ li... 




^i^ 



HO 






;.?:t 






THE SCAKLET FEVER. 157 

opportunity of talking with liim. Then 
this opportunity had seemed so probable 
and easy ; but now he should be leaving 
Bristol in a few days, and would most 
likely never see his companion again. 
How he wished now that he had only 
known yesterday of this, or that he had 
earlier endeavored to become better ac- 
quainted with him, and had spoken more 
openly to him of the danger he was run- 
ning in trifling with such solemn realities 
so deeply concerning his own personal 
welfare. Mark felt as if he had been 
perhaps so much occupied in fighting his 
own battles, as to be unconscious that 
beside him was a comrade wounded and 
beaten down in the combat, and needing 
the aid of a friend. 

Two or three days passed by, and 
Mark could obtain no news of Archer. 
Miss Finch was quite laid up with a very 
severe cold, which she had taken in con- 



158 MAKE STEADMAN. 

sequence of exposing herself to the cold 
air from the open windows in her anxi- 
ety to escape the least chance of infec- 
tion from the fever ; which, considering 
the age of the good lady, and that she 
w^as to some extent protected by having 
already had the disease, was certainly 
choosing the worst evil of the two ; the 
one being nearly imaginary, the other 
real. Archer's place had been already 
temporarily supplied, and Mr. Yv'atson 
had said nothing to Mark as though he 
vvished to retain him after his time was 
up, Avhich would be on Friday. He had 
therefore written to his mother, telling 
her that he expected to go home on 
that day. 

On Wednesday Dr. Long called, and 
wished to see Mr. Watson. Immediately 
after his departure, Mark went to his 
uncle, full of anxiety to hear some news 
of poor Archer. The account which his 



THE SCARLET FEVER. 159 

uncle gave liim was most distressing. 
Dr. Long thought very badly of the case, 
and gave but slight hope of recovery ; 
the object of his call on Mr. Watson was 
to inquire whether none of the young 
man's friends could come to him. He 
was perfectly satisfied with the skill 
and attention of the nurse, but consid- 
ered that the patient's present Symp- 
toms were aggravated by the depression 
of mind which came upon him at every 
return of consciousness. Mr. Watson 
had told Dr. Long, that on the first day 
of Archer's illness he wrote to his uncle 
at his request, but had since received a 
letter from him, wishing Mr. Watson to 
see that his nephew had every thing 
necessar}^, but also adding that in con- 
sequence of his own young family, it 
would be impossible that either he or 
his wife could come to him. 

" It is very sad,'' concluded Mr. Wat- 



160 MAKK STEADMAN. 

son. " I am sure I would gladly go and 
see liim if I could, but I should be afraid 
for my own children at home ; and be- 
sides, it would not do on account of the 
customers : you see people are so very 
particular." 

A general depression seemed to come 
over every one in the house as this sad 
news Was known. Scarcely a word was 
spoken at the dinner-table, for they all 
remembered how Charlie Archer had so 
lately been the very life of the party, 
and how his lively remarks had always 
served to call forth a laugh from his 
companions, and to keep them amused. 
The ideas of terror and gloom which 
most of them associated with death, made 
the contrast of his present condition all 
the more striking to them, as they recol- 
lected his late vivacity. And more than 
that, the suddenness with which this 
awful summons had come to one who a 



THE SCARLET FEVER. VM 

day or two ago appeared as unlikely to 
receive it as any of them, could not fail 
to produce an impression upon their 
minds in reminding them how closely 
they might be advancing to the borders 
of another .world, the qualifications for 
which were of a verj' different nature 
from those by which they were hoping 
to succeed in this life. The great truths 
on which depend our future destiny as- 
sumed a ver}^ different aspect now from 
that of mere dogmas, which might be 
made the subjects of irreverent, trivial 
discussions, and which were to be re- 
ceived or not as fancy or fashion might 
dictate. 

As for Mark, his mind was so com- 
pletely occupied with what he had been 
told of the state of his poor friend, that 
he could scarcely attend to any thing 
else ; but at last, after much thought and 
pra^^er, he formed the resolution of going 

Ka;k SfA'lmaa. 11 



162 MAKE STEADMAN. 

to him, if possible, immediately on leav- 
ing his uncle's, hoping that he might, by 
God's help, be of some use and comfort 
to him. But firs^ of all he thought it 
right to ask his mother's advice and per- 
mission, because he felt he could not 
cause her any anxiety on his own ac- 
count without her consent, though he 
fancied he knew pretty well what she 
would say. He wrote her a very long 
letter therefore, that evening, and told 
her all the particulars of Archer's ill- 
ness, his friendless state, and described 
also, as well as he could, what had pass- 
ed between them the evening on which 
he was first taken ill. Having done 
this, he felt he could only wait patiently 
till Friday came, and he should be free. 

On Friday morning he received the 
following letter from his mother. 

"My dearest MxVRK: I have been 
thinking a great deal over your long 



THE SCAKLET FEVElt. 163 

letter which I received this morning. 
At first I almost felt as though I must 
go mj^self at once to that poor young 
man ; but this, you know, is impossible, 
as I could not leave the business here. 
I seem as though I could think of noth- 
ing else all day but his being alone 
there in that sad condition, with nobody 
near him to speak a word of the mercy 
and grace of the blessed Saviour. My 
dear Mark, I could not tell you not to 
go to him ; if there was any relative that 
could be with him the case would be 
different, but if God wishes to send a 
message to his soul by you, my dear 
son, how could I bid you not to take it? 
I have thought about it and I have 
prayed about it; and this afternoon I 
saw Mr. Lewis passing by, who attended 
all of you when you had the scarlet- 
fever three years ago, and I asked him 
what he thought about it, and he says, 



164 MAEK STEADMAN. 

my dear, that the risk would be next to 
nothing for you, as you had it so lately ; 
but still, you had better take proper 
precautions to keep in good health. He 
asked, why didn't they send for a cler- 
gyman or minister to see him? but I 
know in illness that 's a word here and 
a word there, just as the sick person 
w^ants it and can hear it, which is of use. 
Yery often if any body comes, it 's at 
the wrong time, and sometimes a long 
conversation with a stranger is very bad 
for the patient ; besides, I expect you '11 
find, my dear, that the poor fellow is 
out of his head most of the time, and 
it's only just now and then that you 
may be able to say a word to comfort 
him ; and then if you are there, and you 
find he would like to see any one, you 
can send at once. I hope and pray that 
God will direct you for the best in every 
thing. I have generally found in ill- 



THE SCARLET FEVEll. 1G5 

ness that it isn't so well to read much — 
just a verse or so rejpmted now and then 
is much more comforting and not so 
tiring, because you see, my dear, when 
people are ill their minds are as differ- 
ent as can be from v/hen they are well. 
If I were you, I would just try continu- 
ally to keep the blessed Saviour before 
him, as though he was indeed a true, 
living, loving friend, standing by and 
saying now, just as much as vfhen he 
was on earth, 'Come unto me, all ye 
that labor, and I will give you rest.' 

*'If there's any thing you want to 
know about, or if there 's any thing I 
can send you from home that you think 
the dear lad would like, you let me 
know at once. I do wish I could come 
to him, poor fellow ; I suppose he hard- 
ly ever knew his mother, from what 3^ou 
say ; but she was a good woman, and 
died busy about the Lord's work, so 



166 MARK STEADMAN. 

you may depend upon it he wo n't de- 
sert her boy. I have no doubt there 's 
many of her prayers yet to be answered 
for him, that she put up when he was 
but a little baby. I thought of so many 
things I wanted to say to you, but they 
seem all gone out of my head now : you 
must write to me ever}^ day, ray dear 
Mark, and let me know how 3^ou are 
getting on, for I shall be so anxious to 
hear ; and if you feel the least bit ill in 
any way, be sure 3^ou tell the doctor 
directly. You may be certain I shall 
be always praying for joii and for Mr. 
Archer too. God bless you, my dear- 
est boy. 

"Your ever loving mother, 

"MAKY STEADMAN.'' 

On the receipt of his mother's letter, 
Mark went at once to Mr. Watson, and 
told him of his intention of going to take 
care of Archer instead- of returnino- home 



THE SCArtLET FEVER. 1G7 

that day, as he had previously decided 
to do. 

"It is very kind, I am sure,'' said Mr. 
Watson; ''and as your mother yishes 
it, I do not see any objection. I hope 
you will find that he has every thing 
which is necessar}^ ; but if he wants any 
thing he has not already, I beg you will 
just send me a line to let me know." 

''Thank you, sir," said Mark. 

"And I may as well say now," con- 
tinued Mr. Watson, "that I shall always 
retain a high opinion of your character, 
Mark, and if you hear of another situa- 
tion, I shall be very happy to say all I 
can for you. Indeed, if you were, wish- 
ing to go into a bank now, or any place 
of trust, I should not object to stand 
security for you, which is more than I 
would do for any other young man I 
know, now-a-days. I do not think you 
are fit for our line of business, as I told 



1G8 MARK STEADMAX. 

you before, and I am sorry for it: still, 
if I had n't this very morning engaged a 
iirst-class salesman in Green'a place, I 
v>^ould no.t mind keeping you another 
six months, just to see if you wouldn't 
get accustomed to it. What you want 
is to see a little more of the ^yorld and 
its Avays, and then you would not think 
so much of your own opinions.'' 

"Thank you,'' replied Mark; "then 
in taking another situation, jon will 
allow me to refer any one to you.'' 

"To be sure," said Mr. Watson; "I 
shall be most happy to say v;hat I know 
of you, and I hope you will soon hear 
of something to your mind, and get on 
well. In the meantime, you vvill do well 
to think over all I have said to you, and 
sooner or later you will find it is quite 
true." 

Mr. Watson then gave Mark the ad- 
dress of Archer's lodgings, and wishing 



THE SCAllLET FEVER. 1G9 

him good-by, left him to pack up his 
box, ready to be sent round to him. 

As Mark put in his things, he could 
not help thinking of the evening six 
months ago, when lie had watched his 
mother, as she, far more carefully than 
he was doing, fitted one package after 
another into that box, while he stood 
beside her, full of hopes and fears as to 
the future, neither of v/hich he had found 
to be realized. He had trembled then, 
as he thought how hard it would be for 
him to maintain the life of a Christian 
amid so many opposing influences, and 
he had greatly feared lest in the end he 
might be led to deny Christ, and make 
shipwreck of his faith ; mingled with 
these fears were dreams of hope as to 
all that he W'Ould do and become. 

Mark had hoped that by industry and 
honesty he should make himself so val- 
uable to his uncle, that he would rise 



170 MAKK STEADMAN. 

by degrees, until he became a partner 
in tlie firm. Then his mother was to 
give up her business to his brother Jo- 
seph, and to come and live with him in 
rest and plenty for the remainder of her 
days. But how strangely different it 
had all been ! Instead of rising to a 
higher situation, his uncle did not even 
consider him fit for the one he held, and 
predicted no success for him in the fu- 
ture. As for supporting his mother, he 
was returning to be a burden upon her, 
though he determined that this should 
be only for a shqrt time. The advan- 
tages which he had fancied were his, in 
having so prosperous a relative as Mr. 
AVatson, had turned out to be just noth- 
ing at all ; and he found that instead of 
depending on the power of his uncle to 
help him forward and advance his posi- 
tion, he could only still repeat the daily 
prayer of his childhood to his Father in 



THE SCARLET FEVER. 171 

heaven, "Give us this clay our daily 
bread." On the other hand, he had 
learned two great lessons in regard to 
his former fears and fancies about the 
world. One was, that in entering into 
a sphere of danger, in obedience, not to 
our own inclinations, but to the call of 
duty, we may fully depend on the prom- 
ise of God, that for every temptation 
which we maj^ meet with there, he can 
and will grant a corresponding sufficien- 
cy of grace to enable us to resist it ; and 
having this divine strength within us, 
we shall prove the truth of that saying, 
"Greater is he that is in you, than he 
that is in the world." 

The second lesson he had been taught 
did much to correct his previous notions, 
as to what the world really was. He 
no longer regarded it as some strange 
monster, which "to be hated, needs but 
to be seen." On the contrary, he dis- 



172 MAKK STEADMAN. 

covered so mucli in his own nature which 
constantly disposed him to sympathize 
with its opinions, tastes, and feelings, 
that he felt convinced that the enemy 
he needed to vvatch and pray against 
w^as not some new foreign foe, but in 
fact a part of himself, which he must 
carry about vvdth him vfherever he might 
be. Let him live where he might, if he 
yielded to this side of his frail nature, 
he would, he felt sure, become worldly ; 
for "the w^orld" was nothing more than 
an asserablage of people who thus lived ; 
the only difference to himself being, that 
in their company the temptation to give 
way was much stronger than when sur- 
rounded b}^ those who w^ere animated 
b}^ a higher principle, and the struggle, 
therefore, to live the life of a citizen of 
heaven so much the harder. 



VISITOK AND SICK PENITENT. 173 



CHAPTEK X. 

The Visitor and thb Sick Penitent. 

In the afternoon, about two o'clock, 
Mark having said ''Good-by'' to his 
companions, and having been admitted 
to a farewell visit to Miss Finch, who 
was now well enough to be reclining on 
the sofa in her sitting-room, dressed in 
a rooe-de-chamhre of scarlet flannel, left 
his uncle's house, and proceeded to Ar- 
cher's lodgings. He had very little idea 
of what he should do when he got there, 
but the desire to comfort and help his 
friend was strong within him, and he 
trusted that the best way to do this 
would be made plain to him when the 
time came. He had scarcely ever seen 
any one ill ; and his idea of sick per- 
sons, and of what they did and said, was 



174 MAKK STEADMAN. 

principally gathered from various books 
which he had read. He therefore fan- 
cied that Archer would at once begin to 
speak to him of his state of mind as 
clearly and sensibly as though he were 
welL and that he would be ready at any 
time to hear Mark read, or say any thing 
he thought proper. 

Oh, how very little do those who have 
never known severe illness imagine how 
difficult it is at such times to fix the mind 
on any subject, even though the most 
important interests may be involved in 
it. An erroneous impression too much 
prevails, that suffering has a tendency 
in itself to turn the mind to the contem- 
plation of heavenly things ; whereas the 
fact is, that the natural effect of physical 
pain is to deaden the feelings, to obscure 
the understanding, and to fix the atten- 
tion so strongly on the body, as to cre- 
ate a more than ordinarv indifference in 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 175 

regard to the soul. It is readily ac- 
knowledged, that in such slight indispo- 
sitions as fall to the lot of all at times, 
the mind is unfit for its usual engage- 
ments in the affairs of life ; but it is not 
fully realized that a "sickness unto 
death" is nothing more than a greatly 
aggravated state of weakness, pain, and 
incapacity of just the same nature, being 
only different in degree. Ask any prac- 
tical person — a medical man or a nurse — 
about the peculiar clearness and percep- 
tion with which persons are supposed, 
in the last hour, to see things in a very 
different light from when in health, and 
to feel an interest in subjects to which 
they have hitherto been perfectly indif- 
ferent, and they who have been con- 
stantly in the habit of watching sickness 
and death will answer that they scarcely 
understand what you mean. 

Some accounts have been written, 



176 MAEK STEAD MAN. 

which, because they are so rare, have 
therefore been thought worthy of record, 
of the death-beds of certain individuals 
whose eventide has been brighter than 
their day ; but, generally speaking, even 
those who have long known and loved 
the Saviour, and w^ho for many years 
have been living on earth as citizens of 
heaven — even these, once so ready to 
respond to every holy thought and sen- 
timent, exhibit at last, when the percep- 
tions are confused and dim, and sensa- 
tion fails, less of that vivid interest and 
emotion which they displayed in health 
at the mention of that precious Name, 
and in every thing in any w^ay connected 
with his service. 

And if those w^ho, during their life- 
time, have often been constrained to 
say, "Whom have I in heaven but thee, 
and there is none upon earth that I de- 
sire beside thee," find that when heart 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 177 

and flesh arc failing they are less, rather 
than 7nore able to think and feel as they 
have been accustomed to do, is it at all 
likely that any will find this an advan- 
tageous state in which to attempt, for the 
first time, to dire»3t the mind to a subject 
hitherto neglected and treated with in- 
diiference, and in which every thing has 
yet to be discovered and learned ? It is 
true that the power and love of the Sav- 
iour have been manifested to some who 
have long rebelled against him, even in 
the last extremity ; but let none imagine 
that this has been bee^uuse the mind was 
then more free to accept this mercy, or 
more capable of understanding the wa^^ 
of salvation. The records of such rare 
cases are only designed to show us that 
forgiveness through Jesus Christis grant- 
ed to all who seek it by a true faith, even 
to the very verge of the time allotted to 
us on earth ; but the plain fact is, that 

Mark Steadman. 12 



178 MARK ST E ADM AN. 

very few who have lived to that hour 
careless and unconcerned have any wish 
or povr'^er to seek it then. 

On Mark's arrival at Archer's lodg- 
ings, he asked first to speak to the 
nurse, who appeared to him a very in- 
telligent, gentle -looking person, very 
different from the one or two specimens 
of the same class v,diich he had previ- 
ously seen. She informed him that his 
friend, though still exceedingly ill, had 
seemed more conscious during the day, 
and better able to take nourishment. 
This v/as a great relief to Mark's mind, 
for he had feared he might be too late to 
be of any use to the poor young man. 
He tokl the nurse that he was a friend 
of Archer's, and that he had come to 
stay for a few days with him. She seemed 
much pleased to hear this, and said that 
she thought it was just the thing that 
would do him good v/hen he got a little 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 179 

better. She then went up stairs, unci 
coming down again presently, told Mark 
that Mr. Archer seemed to be awake, 
and she thought he might as well go up 
and see him at once. 

Mark was startled and shocked, as he 
entered the room, to see the great change 
which the few days' illness had made in 
his companion. He had expected to see 
him looking thin and pale, for he fancied 
that every one appeared thus when in 
illness; but as he took a seat by the 
bedside, he felt as though he were about 
to speak to a stranger, and could scarcely 
believe it vras really Charlie Archer 
whom he saw before him. The novelty 
of the situation, and the unusual appear- 
ance of the invalid, quite took away from 
Mark the power of saying any of those 
things which he had previously resolved 
on, as appropriate to the occasion. He 
sat for a few minutes in silence, over- 



180 MAEK STEADMAN. 

come by a strange feeling of shyness and 
incapacity, until the nurse called Ar- 
cher's attention to him by saying, "Here, 
sir, is a friend come to see you. You 
will like that now, won't you ?" 

Archer opened his eyes, and looked 
at Mark for a minute or two, as Mark 
took his hand, and asked him how he 
was. 

''I don't know," replied Archer. 
'' How did you come here ?" 

''I came here on purpose to see if I 
could do any thing for you," said Mark. 
''The doctor said, he thought you would 
be glad to have some one with you." 

"Thank you," replied Archer. "I 
don't want any thing," and turning his 
head wearily on the pillow, he closed 
his eyes again. Mark had seldom felt 
more awkward and uncomfortable in his 
life. He did not in the least know what to 
do, where to go, or what to sa}^ He still 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 181 

had the strongest desire to help and com- 
fort his friend ; but yet he seemed to be 
of no use, and he almost wished th^t he 
could go away. He had expected that 
Archer would be quite overcome with 
joy at seeing the face of a friend beside 
him ; and he had fancied how they should 
almost immediately have begun to talk 
of those things which he thought must 
so much oppress Archer's mind in his 
present dangerous condition. But. ex- 
cepting in occasional visits to the sick- 
room, the afternoon w^as spent by Mark 
alone in the bedroom which had been 
assigned tc, iiim. Here he could only 
pray to God for his friend ; and feeling 
now most deeply the futility of all human 
aid, he was led the more humbly and 
entirely to cast this care on God, and to 
trust wholly to the infinite power and 
love of Christ to help and save, even at 
the last moment, the sinner who should 



182 ^MAIIK STEADMAN. 

come I ' liim. Mark remembered tliose 
words, "Him that cometli to me I v/ill 
in nO wis^'e cast out," and on these he 
endeavored to rest his hopes. 

About six o'clock the nurse brought 
Mark some tea, and asked him if he 
thought she might go out for half an 
hour, as she had not been able to leave 
at all during the last few days, and 
whether he would mind sitting with his 
friend. Mark was only too glad to be 
employed, and to find that, after all, he 
need not be wholly useless, if he could 
do no more than relieve the nurse occa- 
sionally. She told him Archer seemed 
to be asleep, and vrould not require any 
thing till her return, as she had given 
him the medicine a short time before, 
when she had also asked him if he would 
not like to see Mark, but he had not 
taken any notice of what she said. 

Mark softly entered the sick-room, 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 183 

and sat clown near the door. Here he 
remained for some time in perfect silence, 
broken only by the sound of occasional 
footfalls in the street^ the dropping of 
the embers from the fire, or the opening 
and shutting of a door below stairs. At 
length two or three restless movements 
0.1 the part of the patient caused Mark 
to get up and go towards him. He fixed 
his eyes on Mark for a minute, and then 
he said : 

"I thought it was all a dream that 
you were here.'' 

"jSTo," replied Mark, sitting down be- 
side him, "it was no dream ; I am really 
here, and I am come to stay' with you 
for a few days, to see if I can be of any 
use to you ; so I hope you will order me 
about just as you please." 

"Thank you," replied Archer, "I 
wanted you so ; but I did not think it 
could be true that you were really here." 



184 MARK STEADMAN. 

"Did you?" exclaimed Mark. '' 
Archer, I would have come if I could 
before now, but I only left Mr. Watson 
this afternoon. I am so glad you want 
me to stay.'' 

"Yes, do stay," said Archer earnestly. 
"You must not leave me again; you 
won't, will you ?" 

•'No, indeed," replied Mark; "I will 
stay with you as long as you like, never 
fear." 

"I have thought of you many times 
since I have been so ill," said Archer. 
" I wanted to talk to you, but my head 
is quite lost, and I do n't know what to 
say. I can't even think. You must 
talk to me." 

"Shall I repeat a hymn to you?" 
asked Mark. " I think that will be bet- 
ter for you than talking, perhaps." 

"Thank vou," said Archer. 

Mark then repeated the beautiful hymn: 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 185 

"Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to thy bosom fly, 
"While the raging billows roll, 

While the tempest still is nigh : 
Hide me, O my Saviour hide. 

Till the storm of life is past : 
Safe into the haven guide ; 

Oh, receive my soul at last. 

'* Other refuge have I none. 

Hangs my helj^less soul on thee ; 
Leave, ah, leave me not alone ! 

Still support and comfort me. 
All my trust on thee is stayed, 

All my help from thee I bring ; 
Cover my defenceless head 

With the shadow of thy wing. 

''Thou, O Christ, art alll want; 

More than all in thee I find ; 
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint. 

Heal the sick, and lead the blind. 
Plenteous grace with thee is found, 

Grace to pardon aU my sin ; 
Let the healing stream abound. 

Make and keep me i^ure within." 

"Thank yon," said Archer, when 
Mark had finished ; "that is enough." 

Mark wanted to say something else, 
but he did not know how to begin. He 



186 MARK STEADMAN. 

found it SO difficult to decide on what 
was just the right thing to say ; but 
after a short silence he said with some 
effort : 

"Archer, if jou are at all afraid that 
Jesus Christ will not save you, I am 
quite sure that you need not be, for he 
is only waiting for you to put your soul 
into his hands.'' 

" Yes, Mark, that is just what T want- 
ed to say," replied Archer, "only my 
head is so bad, I cannot think of any 
thing. I was going to say that it was of 
no use for you to repeat hymns like that 
one to me. There was a time when I 
think I might have been able to enter 
into it, but I gave it all up for the sake 
of getting on and being like others. 
Only the other day, I thought what a 
fool you were, Mark, to leave Mr. Wat- 
son, and I was so pleased that he had 
given me Green's situation ; but I see it 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 187 

SO differently now, when it's too late, 
for I believe it's all over with me.'' 

" Indeed," replied Mark earnestly, "I 
do not think so. I don't say this only 
just to comfort you, Archer, but I do 
most honestly believe, that if you can 
only just give up your soul to the Sav- 
iour, and trust in his power and grace 
to save you through the merits of his 
precious blood and righteousness, it is 
not too late for you. You know that 
' 710W is the accepted time,' not any par- 
ticular time w^hich you may think of, 
and which is passed away. Try to 
think that he is now standing close to 
you, waiting to say, 'Thy sins are for- 
given thee.'" 

"I am so stupid and confused that I 
can think of nothing," said Archer, 
moving restlessly, "except that all the 
past keeps coming into my mind, wheth- 
er I will or no. It 's no use, Mark." 



188 MAKK STEADMAN. 

"But whenever the past comes back/^ 
said Mark, "try to look away from that 
to Jesus, and try to realize that his mer- 
cy and merits are far greater than our 
sins." 

"I will try," said Archer; "but it s 
all up with me, I know." 

Just then the nurse returned, and 
soon after the doctor paid his evening 
visit. Mark had quite hoped from what 
the nurse had said on his arrival, that 
the medical man's report of the state of 
his jDatient would have been better than 
it was. In answer to Mark's inquiries. 
Dr. Long shook his head, and said he 
did not think there was any improve- 
ment ; there were some symptoms even 
which he thought indicated a less favor- 
able state than when he had seen him 
in the morning. 

Towards night the delirium returned, 
and the nurse told Mark she thought he 



YISITOE AND SICK PENITENT. 189 

Lad better leave his friend and go to 
bed, as he could be of no further use 
then, and might, after some hours' sleep, 
be able to relieve her for a little time 
in the morning. To this he unwillingly 
consented, the nurse having promised 
to call him immediately if any change 
for the worse should occur. 

Mark was quite certain that he should 
not be able to sleep, but after many an 
earnest supplication that God would 
have mercy on his friend, and in the 
last hour even, reveal to him pardon 
and peace through Jesus Christ, he fell 
asleep ; and on waking found, to his sur- 
prise and annoyance, that it was already 
daylight. 

The account which he received from 
the nurse that morning was very bad. 
Archer had passed a very restless night. 
He w^as now quieter, and she thought, 
more conscious ; but during the last few 



190 MARK STEADMAN. 

hours his throat had become so much 
worse that it Avas with the greatest diffi- 
culty she could induce him to make the 
effort to swallow any thing, and he 
seemed also to have almost lost the 
l^ower of speaking. 

Mark sat beside him for some time 
during the morning, occasionally repeat- 
ing a hymn or some passage of Scrip- 
ture, such as he thought might tend to 
calm his mind and direct his thoughts 
to the Saviour. He could not, however, 
be always sure that Archer understood 
Avhat he said, or was aware of what was 
passing around him, excepting that once 
or twice he opened his eyes and fixed 
them on Mark in a peculiarl}^ earnest 
manner, which made the nurse think, 
that though less capable of holding com- 
munication with others than yesterday, 
his mind might yet be in itself more 
clear and conscious. 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 191 

This gave Mark courage and hope, 
and strengtliened liis faith in the belief 
that God would hear his prayers for his 
poor friend, and show him at last the 
greatness of the power and mercy of the 
Saviour. 

The visit oT the doctor only confirmed 
Mark's worst fears. Soon after he was 
gone, Archer appeared to sink into a 
stupor, from which he could not be 
roused to take either food or medicine, 
and from which the nurse thought he 
never would again awake. This to Mark 
w^as very painful, but he felt that his 
friend was in the hands of One whose 
love far exceeded his own, and that, if 
it was never granted to him to hear 
from his own lips that he had at last 
found rest in the power and mercy of 
the Saviour, yet he could not but trust 
that this salvation had been made known 
to him in these last hours. 



192 MAKE STEADMAN. 

Mark did not like to leave the house, 
though he did not sj^end the whole of 
that long day in the sick-room. When- 
ever he could relieve the nurse, he sat 
beside his friend ; at other times, by Dr. 
Long's advice, he stayed for a while in 
his own room, so as to get a little change 
of air. But he found it difficult to em- 
ploy himself in any way, until, at last, 
he began to write a letter to his mother, 
telling her that, in all probability he 
should return home in a few days, and 
describing all that had passed since he 
had been with Archer. It was about 
five o'clock in the afternoon that he was 
thus occupied, when the nurse called to 
him ; and on his going into Archer's 
room, she told him that she believed the 
last change was come on. Mark went 
up to the bedside, and taking his friend's 
hand, he could not help exclaiming in- 
voluntarilv, 



YISITOE AND SICK PENITENT. 193 

*'0b, Archer, are you happy now?'' 
To his surprise, Archer once more 
opened his eyes, and fixing them with 
an earnest gaze on Mark, he said in a 
low whisper, and with great difficulty, 
*'Is that you, Mark? God bless you! 
Jesus has been with me all this day. 
Into his hands I commit my soul.'' 

Thi& was all ; but it was more than 
enough for Mark. As he bent down, 
his feelings became perfectly uncontrol- 
lable, and he scarcely knew where he 
was, until the nurse reminded him that 
it was all over, and that he had better 
leave the room. He found it almost 
impossible to realize at first that the 
anxiety and earnest longing of the last 
few days were at an end, that he need 
have no more care for his late compan- 
ion, and that he now no longer needed 
those prayers v\diich, only a very short 
time since, he had offered up so earnest- 

Alark Steadiiian. X3 



194 MAKK STEADMAN. 

\y on his behalf; and then came natu- 
rally the remembrance of Charlie Archer 
as he had first seen him only six months 
ago, full of life and gayety, having appa- 
rentl}' so peculiarly strong a hold on 
this life ; and he could scarcely persuade 
himself that all this had passed away in 
so brief a space of time. But from this 
he turned to the remembrance of his last 
words, and to the hope that he was now 
with Christ in paradise. This seemed 
to bring heaven very near to himself; 
he felt as if he too had been to the gates 
of the new Jerusalem, though it was not 
yet permitted to him to enter, but given 
to him, rather, still to fight the good 
fight, and to serve God with good and 
true service upon earth. Oh, that he 
might be enabled to endure to the end, 
and to be found busy about his Master's 
work, and not his own, when he should 
call him ! 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 195 

Mark was disturbed from such thoughts 
and feelings as these by a visit from Dr. 
Long, who undertook to see Mr. Wat- 
son, and make all the necessary arrange- 
ments. Mark then finished his letter to 
his mother, and fixed to return home by 
the steamer w^hich left Bristol on Mon- 
day evening ;'and though he would have 
still liked to follow the earthly remains 
of his friend to their last resting-place, 
yet he felt sure that his mother would 
feel anxious if he remained any longer 
in that house, and would desire to have 
him with her now as soon as possible. 

The next day was the Sabbath, and 
Mark sometimes spoke afterwards of this 
day as one of the happiest of his life. 
There was such a calm solemnity about 
those quiet hours, such as he never re- 
membered before to have experienced. 
The noise and strife of earth were so far 
away, and the joys of heaven so near, 



196 MABK STEADMAN. 

that it seemed a light thing now to 
"choose rather to suffer affliction with 
the people of Grod, than to enjoy the 
pleasures of sin for a season ;*' and Mark 
could scarcely believe that, only so short 
a time ago he had thought so much of 
this world, and of how he should get on 
in it, as to be almost tempted to give up 
seeking first the kingdom of God, and 
to endeavor rather to serve his own in- 
terests, and let obedience to God's com- 
mands be second to what might tend to 
his own advancement. Xow he felt, as 
he had never done before, what that 
*'good part'' really was, and how bless- 
ed were they who chose it, and held to 
it through life to death. 

In the afternoon Mr. Locke called, on 
his return from his Bible-class, and per- 
suaded Mark to come out with him. Mr. 
Locke, as has been already said, had a 
peculiar faculty for entering into and 



VISITOR AND SICK PENITENT. 19? 

understanding the ideas and feelings of 
those with whom he came in contact, 
and Mark greatly enjoyed the quiet talk 
with him over all that had passed during 
the last few days. He insisted on bring- 
ing Mark home w^ith him to tea, and had 
this meal prepared in another room for 
Mark and himself, in order to avoid any 
danger of infection to Mrs. Locke or the 
children. They afterwards went togeth- 
er to the evening service, and it was 
with deep regret that Mark bade fare- 
well to this kind and true friend. 



198 MARK STEADMAN, 



CHAPTEE XI. 

The Return fioME. 

The steamer was to leave the Hot- 
wells at the early hour of one o'clock in 
the morning ; and at ten Mark went on 
board, where, after supper, he made him- 
self as comfortable as he could for the 
night. The weather was cold, but clear 
and frosty ; they had a very quiet voy- 
age ; and at about nine o'clock, Mark, 
as he stood on the deck, again caught 
sight of the well-known rocks over which 
he had so often clambered, and soon 
after the vessel entered the harbor, past 
the pierhead where Captain Jack's black 
ball announced that the tide would per- 
mit them to go up to the town. 

Mark looked out anxiously along the 
pier, expecting to catch a sight of his 



I^HE NEW YORK- ' 
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THE KETUllN HOME. 109 

uncle ; but on arriving at the quay, the 
first object that met his eye was his sis- 
ter Mary, with the good captain beside 
her, waving his glazed hat with every 
demonstration of welcome and joy. The 
plank was scarcely laid down before he 
had hobbled upon the deck, and seizing 
both Mark's shoulders with the iron 
grasp of his large hands, he exclaimed : 

"Thank the Lord you're safe in port 
again, my boy, and come back with your 
colors up. I can 't say we 're not all very 
glad to see you; and not so much ashamed 
of you neither as might have been." 

And as Mark followed his sister on 
shore, Captain Jack continued to exhibit 
his intense satisfaction to all around him 
by a succession of beaming smiles, sun- 
dry knowing twitches of his eyebrow, 
and several very vehement jerks of his 
elbow in the direction of Mark. 

As they drew nigh to the house where 



200 MAKE STEADMAN. 

the little Highlander still maintained his 
post at the door, Mark caught sight of 
his mother, and hastened across to greet 
her. They all entered the house to- 
gether. Mark's first business ^yas to do 
justice to the comfortable warm break- 
fast which his mother had prepared for 
him; and this being ended, and many 
inquiries made and answered-, Captain 
Jack, taking out his great watch, said, 
*'It wants three-quarters of an hour now 
of the time when she '11 be looking out 
for me to haul her down, so I must be 
soon ; but before we part, I should like 
for us to sing the 121st psalm, common 
metre; tune, 'London Xew."' 

"To lieaTen I lift my wiiitiug eyes, 
There all my hopes are laid ; 
The Lord that built the earth and skies 
Is my perpetual aid. 

*' Their feet shall never slide to fall 
Whom he designs to keep ; 
His ears attend the softest call, 
His eyes can never sleep. 



THE RETUKN HOME. 201 

"He will sustain our weakest powers 
With his almighty arm, 
And watch our most unguarded hours 
Against surprising harm. 

"Israel, rejoice, and rest secure, 
Thy keeper is the Lord ; 
His watchful eyes employ his power 
For thine eternal guard. 

"He guards thy soul, he kee^js thy breath, 
"Where thickest dangers come : 
Go and retui-n, secure from death, 
Till God command thee home, " 



Mark had been scarcely more than a 
fortnight at home, when he was sur- 
prised, one day, to receive a letter from 
Mr. Watson. It was very short; but 
he stated, in a few words, how he had 
discovered that he had been defrauded 
to a considerable extent by the youiig 
men in his employ ; that he was now 
about to dismiss those he had, and to 
engage others ; and he wished to know 
whether, if Mark had not yet found an- 
other situation, he would return to him. 



202 MAKE STEADMAN. 

*'I believe," concluded he, "that 3^0111* 
conscientiousness is a genuine article, and 
not an inferior imitation which will not 
stand the wear and tear of circumstan- 
ces and self-interest ; and if you consent 
to return, it shall be on no conditions 
other than those imposed by your own 
conscience. I also desire that you should 
at once take the position due to my 
nephew, and you will be acknowledged 
as such by me." 

Of course Mark decided to accept his 
uncle's proposal ; and very thankful in- 
deed did he feel that God had again 
opened this path before him, for he was 
persuaded that it was quite possible to 
maintain the perfect uprightness of char- 
acter demanded by the law of God, and 
yet to be an active, clever, and by God's 
blessing, a successful man of business. 

It will not be necessary to follow 
Mark again to Mr. Watson's, nor to 



THE EETURN HOME. 203 

watch him aii}^ longer, as he still fought 
his way against the Avorld, the flesh, and 
the devil. We have seen him take his 
first step — and it was but the first — in 
that course which was to end only with 
his life. In taking this first step, we 
have remarked the great advantage 
which he at once gained by letting it be 
seen plainly who and what he was ; what 
master he meant to serve ; what he real- 
ly believed, and meant to stand to. Had 
he fu'st waited to see what opinions 
would be the most popular, and what 
course of action the most approved, the 
probability is that, like many others, 
he would have lost his ground at start- 
ing, and have never, perhaps, been able 
to recover it afterwards. It is easy 
enough, many will feel, to talk or write 
of doing this ; but only those who have 
made the effort know how hard it is to 
enter alone amons: the ranks of the ene- 



204 MARK STEADMAN. 

my, carrying the standard of the cross. 
Yet it is not alone, for no faithful ser- 
vant of Christ ever is alone : in this re- 
spect the servant has an advantage over 
the Master, for Christ fought that battle 
alone vhich we fight by his side and 
under his command. He came into the 
world, dwelt in it, mixed among the 
multitudes thronging the great highway 
of life, and fulfilled his work in it, vet 
was not of it; and he says to us, '*As 
the Father hath sent me into the world, 
even so have I sent vou." 



1 

LIFE ILLUSTRATED SEEIES. 

i©iy;tM V^<^fem;©i fat? Q^MMt^m. 



Helen Maurice, A narrative of eveiy-day Lome lite. 
Tlii-ee Engi-avings, 

Tlie Glen Cabin, or Away to the Hills. Exciting 
Bcenes among the White mountains. With Cuts. 

Dora Hamilton. The experience of a Merchant's daugh- 
ter. Three Cuts. 

Lilian. A tale of three hundred years ago. Four En- 
gravings. 

The Huguenots of France, or The Times of Henry TV. 
8ome of the most stirring incidents of history. With Cuts. 

Eyel jn Perciyal, Highly interesting sketches and char- 
icters drawn from life. Three Cuts. 

Ilverton Rectory, or The Non-conformists of the Sev- 
enteenth Century. Founded on fact. Four Engravings. 

Allan Cameron, The eventful life of a Scottish clergy- 
man's son, develojDing a character of rare beauty and noble- 
ness under the moulding power of religion. Ilhistrated. 

Walter Martin. Progress through obstacles to a posi- 
tion of great usefulness. Three Cuts. 

Clajlon Allyn, or Learning Life's First Lessons. With 
Engravings. 

Save the Ending", or The Gospel Pur[)ose. A pleasing 
and instructive Narrative. Three Cuts. 

Effie MoiTison, or The Family of Redbraes. A narra- 
tire of truth. With Illustrations. 



2 

The Weed Tvith an Ill-name. Lessons from nature 
impressed upon the heart. With Cuts. 

Our Village in War-Time. Thrilling hfe-sketches, in- 
culcating true patriotism and piety. Illustrated. 

The Swiss Children. Welcome to the little exiles from 
abroad. Two Cuts. 

The Missing" Boat. The perils of mischiet, and saftl;^ 
of true repentance. With Cuts. 

Madeline. The history' of a New England girl. Illus- 
trated. 

A Little More. The value of contentment. Two En- 
gravings, 

The Lighthonse-Boy. A mortal lighthouse for boya. 

May Coyerley. The faithful young Dress-maker. Illus- 
trated. 

Abel Grey. Kaised from poverty to be a distinguished 
Musician. With Cuts. 

Down in a Mine. Thrilling narratives of fact, illustrat- 
ing the Coal-miner's mode of life, his dangers, and his 
security. With Engravings. 

The Happy Fireside. Pleasing glimpses of home lifo 
ill a model Christian household. YN^'ith fine Cuts. 

Kelly Nash, The boy who ' ' did n't tliink. " Illustrated. 

Cheerily, Cheerily. An original American book, wor- 
thy of a place in every family library. Three Cuts. 

While They are With Us. A series of narratives show- 
ing our duty to friends. With Engravings. 

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