in

is

f

f

plunged the whole earth into misery-that it was tasting forbidden fruit which brought sin and death int the world. He raised it to his lips, when a sudden shou from the field almost caused him to drop from the wall. "Holloa there, you young thief! Are you at i already? Robbing me the very first day! Com 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 h had mounted, and stood before his employer with his face flushed to crimson, and too much ashamed to lif up his eyes.

"Get you gone," continued the farmer, "for a hypo crite 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 burst ing 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 to well deserved ? What discredit would his conduct bring on his religion! How his profane companions would triumph in his fall! The kind and pitying clergymar would regard him as a hypocrite-would feel disappointed in him. Bitter was the thought. All his firm resolve

had spanned like thread in the flame and his hopes of

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.

THAT 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 the earth, while short convulsive sobs shook his frame.

Oh, sir!" exclaimed Mark, as a momentary glance enabled him to recognize 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 endeavoured to serve you— to procure you a situation with Farmer Joyce?"

"I have had it, and lost it," replied Mark abruptly. "Indeed, I am sorry to hear that. I trust that no

fault has occasioned your removal."

"I stole his fruit," said Mark, determined at least to hide nothing from his benefactor; "he turned me off and he called me a hypocrite. I am bad enough," con tinued the boy, in an agitated tone; "no one but my self knows how bad; but I am not a hypocrite-I am not!"

"God forbid!" said Mr. Ewart; "but how did all this happen?

"I was thirsty, it tempted me, and I took it. broke all my resolutions, and now he cast me off, and you will cast me off, and the pure holy God, He wil cast me off too! I shall never be worthy of heaven!"

"Did you think that you could ever be worthy of heaven?" said the clergyman, and paused for a reply Then receiving none from Mark, he continued-" No you, nor I, nor the holiest man that ever lived, One ex cepted, who was not only man, but God, was ever worthy of the kingdom of heaven."

Mark looked at him in silent surprise.

We are all sinners, Mark; all polluted with guilt Not one day passes in which our actions, our words, o our thoughts, would not make us lose all title to eternal life. The Bible says, 'There is not one that doeth good

How can this be?" said Mark, who had looked upon the speaker as one above all temptation or stain.

"Since Adam, our first parent, sinned and fell, all his children have been born into the world with a nature tainted and full of wickedness. Even as every

object lifted up from the earth, if unsupported, will fall to the ground, so we, without God's grace, naturally fall into sin."

'Then can no one go to heaven?" said Mark.

"Blessed be God, mercy has found a means by which even sinners can be saved! Sin is the burden which weighs us to the dust, which prevents us from rising to glory. The Lord Jesus came from heaven that He might free us from sin, take our burden from us, and bear it Himself; and so we have hope of salvation through Him."

"I wish that I understood this better," said Mark.

"I will tell you what happened to a friend of my own, which may help you to understand our position towards God, and the reason of the hope that is in us. I went some years ago with a wealthy nobleman to visit a prison at some distance. Many improvements have been made in prisons since then, at that time they were indeed most fearful abodes. In one damp dark cell, small and confined, where light scarcely struggled in through the narrow grating to show the horrors of the place, where the moisture trickled down the green

stained walls, and the air felt heavy and unwholesome in this miserable den we found an unhappy prisone who had been confined there for many weary year He had been placed there for a debt which he wa unable to pay, and he had no prospect of ever gettin free. Can you see in this man's case no likeness your own? Look on sin as a debt, a heavy debt, tha you owe do you not feel that you have no power pay it?"

"None," replied Mark gloomily; "none."

"I had the will to help the poor man," continued M Ewart, "but Providence had not afforded me the mean I had no more ability to set him free from prison tha I have to rid you of the burden of your sin."

But the wealthy nobleman," suggested Mark. "He had both power and will.

He paid the debt

once, and the prisoner was released. Never shall forget the poor man's cry of delight, as the heavy iro studded door was thrown open for his passage, and 1 bounded into the bright sunshine again!

"And what became of him afterwards?" asked th boy.

"He entered the service of his generous benefacto and became the most faithful, the most attached servants. He remained in that place till he died; I

seemed to think that he could never de enough for hi