CHAPTER VII.

THE ARBOUR ON THE HILL.

Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers."Pilgrim's Progress.

EVERAL days passed with but few events to mark them. Mark did everything for Ann to save her from exertion, and under his care her

ankle became better. He also endeavoured to

keep the cottage more tidy, and clear the little garden from weeds, remembering that "cleanliness is next to godliness," and that if any man will not work, neither should he eat.

One morning Madge burst into the cottage where Mark and Ann were sitting together. "He is coming!" she exclaimed in a breathless voice; "he is coming-he is just at the gate!"

"Not Mr. Ewart!" exclaimed Ann, starting up in

terror.

"Yes it is the tall man dressed in black."

In a moment the woman rushed to the back room a fast as her ankle would let her. "I'll keep quiet here "If he asks for me, say that I have just gon

she said.

to the miller's."

"Mother's precious afraid of a parson," said Madg as a low knock was heard at the door.

With pleasure Mark opened to his benefactor. "Good morning," said Mr. Ewart, as he crossed t threshold.

"I have not forgotten my promise to yo

my friend. I hope that I have obtained a place for yo as errand-boy to a grocer. Being myself only a temp rary resident in these parts, I do not know much your future master, except that he appears to keep respectable shop, and is very regular in attendance church; but I hear that he bears a high character. M Lowe, if you suit him, agrees to give you board an lodging; and if he finds you upon trial useful an active, he will add a little salary at the end of the year

"I am very thankful to you, sir," said Mark, his ey expressing much more than his lips could. "I tru that you never will have cause to be sorry for you kindness."

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"Is your mother within?" said Mr. Ewart.

Mark bit his lip, and knew not what to reply, divide

"She's gone to the miller's," said Madge boldly.

But the clergyman turned away from the wicked little girl, whose word he never thought of trusting, and repeated his question to Mark, whose hesitation he could not avoid seeing.

"She is within, sir," said the boy, after a little pause ; then continued with a painful effort, as he could not but feel that Ann's conduct appeared rude and ungrateful to one whom above all men he was anxious to please; "but she would rather not see you to-day."

"Very well, I have seen you; you will tell her what I have arranged." Mark ventured to glance at the speaker, and saw, with a feeling of relief, that Mr. Ewart's face did not look at all angry.

It was more than could be said for Ann's, as, after the clergyman's departure, she came out of her hidingplace again. Her face was flushed, her manner excited; and, in a fit of ungovernable passion, she twice struck the unresisting boy.

"Lord Jesus, this I suffer for thee!" thought Mark; and this reflection took the bitterness from the trial. He was only thankful that he had been enabled to keep to the truth, and not swerve from the narrow path.

On the following day Mark went to his new master, who lived in a neighbouring town. He found out the shop of Mr. Lowe without difficulty; and there was something of comfort and respectability in the appear

ed

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ance of the establishment that was very encouraging the boy. To his unaccustomed eye the ranges of shin brown canisters, each neatly labelled with its conten the white sugar-loaves, with prices ticketed in the w dow; the large cards, with advertisements of sauces a soap, and the Malaga raisins, spread temptingly to vi spake of endless plenty and abundance.

Mark carried a note which Mr. Ewart had given him, and, entering the shop, placed it modestly on counter before Mr. Lowe.

The grocer was rather an elderly man, with a b head, and mild expression of face. He opened the n slowly, then looked at Mark over his spectacles, r the contents, then took another survey of the b Mark's heart beat fast, he was so anxious not to rejected.

"So," said Mr. Lowe, in a slow, soft voice, as if measured every word that he spoke, "so you are lad that is to come here upon trial, recommended by Reverend Mr. Ewart. He says that you've not b well brought up; that's bad, very bad-but that hopes that your own principles are good. Mr. Ewar à pious man, a very zealous minister, and I am glad aid him in works of charity like this. If you're pi all's right, there's nothing like that; I will have n about me but those who are decidedly pious!"

Mr Lowe looked as though he expected a ronly wh

puzzled Mark exceedingly, as he had no idea of turning piety to worldly advantage, or professing religion to help him to a place. He stood uneasily twisting his cap in his hand, and was much relieved when, a customer coming in, Lowe handed him over to his shopman.

Radley, the assistant, was a neat-looking little man, very precise and formal in his manner, at least in the presence of his master. There was certainly an occasional twinkle in his eye, which made Mark, who was very observant, suspect that he was rather fonder of fun than might beseem the shopman of the solemn Mr. Lowe; but his manner, in general, was a sort of copy of his master's, and he borrowed his language and phrases.

And now, fairly received into the service of the grocer, Mark seemed to have entered upon a life of comparative comfort. Mr. Lowe was neither tyrannical nor harsh, nor was Radley disposed to bully the errand-boy. Mark's obliging manner, great intelligence, and readiness to work, made him rather a favourite with both, and the common comforts of life which he now enjoyed appeared as luxuries to him.

"I have been climbing a steep hill of difficulty," thought he, “and now I have reached a place of rest. How good is the Lord, to provide for me thus, with those who are his servants!"

That those with whom Mark lived were indeed God's servants, he at first never thought of doubting.

Was