THE

STORY OF A POCKET BIBLE.

PART 1.

CHAPTER I.

THE CHILD.

My first possessor was a child.

I am old and defaced now; my coat is tarnished,
my leaves are time-tinted, worn, and ragged; my
silver clasps are gone. Then, I was bright and gay
in gold and purple.

But it was not the purple and gold that drew
towards me the boy's love, and made me his choice;
for choose me he did. Turn to my fly-leaf and see.
The record is pale with age; it has been stained
with many tear-drops since it was written; but it
is legible yet :-

"This Bible is given to you, our dear boy, at

your own request, on your sixth birthday. Your

parents rejoice at your choice, and earnestly hope

that you may ever esteem the word of God above

all riches, embrace the gospel of God's dear Son

B

ow groundless were such fears, y owner took to preserve me ge. I was almost immediately an outer covering, which, though 1 for an instant that my unsullied 11, was carefully replaced when the d. After a short time, even this -continued; and years passed away trich gloss of that coat had dis

could not at first hold converse with I unassisted. He was a dull scholar, once and again; but surely it was th. Nor, while my letters presented no ideas to his mind, was I unemployed in Indeed, the fact was that my young

'rov. viii. 17.

+ Matt. xi. 25.