THE YOUNG PILGRIM. CHAPTER I. THE PILGRIM'S CALL. I dreamed, and, behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back."-Pilgrim's Progress. S this the way to the ruins of St. Frediswed's shrine?" said a clergyman to a boy of about twelve years of age, who stood leaning against the gate of a field. They are just here, sir," replied the peasant, proceeding to open the gate. "Just wait a moment," cried a bright-haired boy who accompanied the clergyman; "that is your way, this is mine," and he vaulted lightly over the gate. "So these are the famous ruins!" he exclaimed as he alighted on the opposite side; "I don't think much of them, Mr. Ewart. A few yards of stone wall, half covered with moss, and an abundance of nettles is all I can see." 'And yet this once was a famous resort for pilgrims." Pilgrims, what were they?" inquired the boy. "In olden times, when the Romanist religion prevailed in England, it was thought an act of piety to visit certain places that were considered particularly holy; and those who undertook journeys for this purpose received the name of pilgrims. Many travelled thousands of miles to kneel at the tomb of our Lord in Jerusalem, and those who could not go so far believed that by visit ing certain famous shrines here, they could win the pardon of their sins. Hundreds of misguided people, in this strange, superstitious hope, visited the abbey by whose ruins we now stand; and I have heard that a knight, who had committed some great crime, walked hither barefoot, with a cross in his hand, a distance of several leagues." "A knight barefoot! how strange !" cried young Lord Fontonore; "but then he believed that it would save him from his sins." "Save him from his sins!" thought the peasant boy, who, with his full earnest eyes fixed upon Mr. Ewart, had been drinking in every word that he uttered; "save him from his sins! I should not have thought it strange had he crawled the whole way on his knees!" "Are there any pilgrims now?" inquired Fontonore. "In Romanist countries there are still many pilgrimages made by those who know not, as we do, the one only way by which sinners can be accounted righteous before a pure God. But in one sense, Charles, we all should be pilgrims, travellers in the narrow path that leads to salvation, passing on in our journey from earth to heaven, with the cross not in our hands but in our hearts; pilgrims, not to the tomb of a crucified Saviour, but to the throne of that Saviour in glory!" Charles listened with reverence, as he always did when his tutor spoke of religion, but his attention was nothing |