mighty is all goodness, and would ever pardon."

"Then you suppose there is no such thing as eternal punishment?"

"Eternal!--no. Punishment there is, but not eternal. When the legions of
angels fell, some were not so perverse as others: they soon re-obtained
their seats, even when, as children, having passed through the slight
ordeal, they have been summoned back to heaven; but others who, from
their infancy, show how bad were their natures, have many pilgrimages to
perform before they can be purified. This is, in itself, a punishment.
What other punishment they incur between their pilgrimages we know not;
but this is certain, that no one was created to be punished eternally."

"But all this is but assertion," replied I; "where are your proofs?"

"In the Bible; some day or other I will show them to you; but now we are
at the camp, and I am anxious to embrace Nattee."

I thought for some time upon this singular creed; one, in itself, not
militating against religion, but at the same time I could not call to
mind any passages by which it could be supported. Still the idea was
beautiful, and I dwelt upon it with pleasure. I have before observed,
and indeed the reader must have gathered from my narative, that Melchior
was no common personage. Every day did I become more partial to him, and
more pleased with our erratic life. What scruples I had at first,
gradually wore away; the time passed quickly, and although I would
occasionally call to mind the original object of my setting forth, I
would satisfy myself by the reflection, that there was yet sufficient
time. Little Fleta was now my constant companion when in the camp, and I
amused myself with teaching her to write and read.

"Japhet," said Timothy to me one day as we were cutting hazel broach
wood in the forest, "I don't see that you get on very fast in your
search after your father."

"No, Tim, I do not; but I am gaining a knowledge of the world which will
be very useful to me when I recommence the search; and what is more, I
am saving a great deal of money to enable me to prosecute it."

"What did Melchior give you after we left?"

"Twenty guineas, which, with what I had before, make more than fifty."

"And he gave me ten, which makes twenty, with what I had before. Seventy
pounds is a large sum."

"Yes, but soon spent, Tim. We must work a little longer. Besides, I
cannot leave that little girl--she was never intended for a
rope-dancer."

"I am glad to he