these terrible words. I will not think on this

subject any more, it wretched than I was.

only makes me more

Oh! I never knew, till

I tried it to-day, how hard,-how impossible it is to be righteous before a holy God!"

So, tempted to banish the thought of religion altogether from his mind, because he felt the law to be too holy to be kept unbroken, yet dreading the punishment for breaking it, Mark tried to turn his attention to other things. He watched the sheep as they grazed, plucked wild flowers and examined them, and amused himself as best he might.

The day was very hot, there was little shade in the field, and Mark grew heated and thirsty. He wished that there were a stream running through the meadow, his mouth felt so parched and dry.

On one side of the field there was a brick wall, dividing it from the garden belonging to Farmer Joyce. On the top of this grew a bunch of wild wall-flower, and Mark who was particularly fond of flowers, amused himself by devising means to reach it. There was a small tree growing not very far from the spot, by climbing which, and swinging himself over on

the wall, he thought that he might succeed in obtaining the prize. It would be difficult, but Mark rather liked difficulties of this sort, and anything at that time seemed pleasanter than thinking.

After one or two unsuccessful attempts, the boy found himself perched upon the wall; but the flower within his reach was forgotten. He looked down from his height on the garden below, with its long lines of fruit-bushes, now stripped and bare, beds of onions, rows of beans, broad tracts of potatoes, all the picture of neatness and order. But what most attracted the eye of the boy was a splendid peach-tree, growing on the wall just below him, its boughs loaded with rich tempting fruit. One large peach, the deep red of whose downy covering showed it to be so ripe, that one might wonder that it did not fall from the branch by its own weight, lay just within reach of his hand. that delicious fruit, thirsty than ever.

The sight of that fruit,

made Mark feel more He should have turned

away, he should have sprung from the wall; but he lingered and looked, and looking desired, then stretched out his hand to grasp.

Alas for his resolutions!-alas for his pilgrim zeal! Could so small a temptation have power

to overcome them?

Yet let the disadvantages of Mark's education be remembered: he had been brought up with those to whom robbing an orchard seemed rather a diversion than a sin. His first ardour

He

for virtue had been chilled by failure; and who that has tried what he vainly attempted does not know the effect of that chill? With a hesitating hand Mark plucked the ripe peach; he did not recollect that it was a similar sin which once plunged the whole earth into misery -that it was tasting forbidden fruit which brought sin and death into the world. raised it to his lips, when a sudden shout from the field almost caused him to drop from the wall. "Holloa there! you young thief! Are you at it already? Robbing me the very first day! Come down, or I'll bring you to the ground with a vengeance!" It was the angry voice of the farmer.

Mark dropped from his height much faster than he had mounted, and stood before his employer with his face flushed to crimson, and too much ashamed to lift up his eyes.

"Get you gone," continued the farmer, "for a hypocrite and a rogue; you need try none of your canting on me. Not one hour longer shall you remain in my employ; you're on the high road to the gallows."

Mark turned away in silence, with an almost bursting heart, and feelings that bordered on despair. With what an account of himself was he to return to his home, to meet the scoffs and jests which he had too well deserved? What discredit would his conduct bring on his religion! How his profane companions would triumph in his fall! The kind and pitying clergyman would regard him as a hypocritewould feel disappointed in him! Bitter was

the thought. All his firm resolves had snapped like thread in the flame, and his hopes of winning Heaven had vanished.

CHAPTER IV.

GOD'S GIFT OF GRACE.

"Ye cannot be justified by the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden."— Pilgrim's Progress.

"WHAT ails you my young friend?-has anything painful happened?" said a kindly voice, and a hand was gently laid upon the shoulder of Mark, who was lying on the grass amidst the ruins of the old Abbey, his face leaning on his arms, and turned towards earth, while short convulsive sobs shook his frame.

Oh, sir!" exclaimed Mark, as a momentary glance enabled him to recognise Mr. Ewart.

"Let me know the cause of your sorrow,' said the clergyman, seating himself on a large stone beside him. "Rise, and speak to me with freedom."

Mark rose, but turned his glowing face aside; he was ashamed to look at his companion.

"Sit down there," said Mr. Ewart, feeling for the boy's evident confusion and distress; "perhaps you are not yet aware that I have