might have
anticipated his uneasiness at finding himself alone amongst strangers.
Anyhow they would not have been as strangers to him, for he afterwards
acknowledged, on being questioned, that had Miss Mary been sleeping in
the room, he should not have done as he did. But now to my remark, those
who strive to do best have the most tender consciences, and the more one
strives after right the more scrupulous and tender does the conscience
become, and the more does it aspire after noble feelings and honourable
thoughts and actions. This is a work of the Divine Spirit and of no
mortal power, and it is a training for glory, purifying our hearts for a
divine home, obtained for us through our Saviour's death and
righteousness, and in familiar language we will liken it after this
manner. Supposing two children stand side by side in the open street,
one is the child of a king, nicely drest and delicately clean, as would
be expected from his noble birth and expectation, the other is the
little hedge-side vagrant, to whose young face water or cleansing has
probably been unknown. Imagine, then, ought passing these two children,
which could pollute their persons, what would be their feelings? the one
might even laugh at the filth or mud that bespattered him, the other
would shrink with loathing or disgust, and would not be easy or
comfortable till every effort was taken to remove the stain. And we are
children of the King of kings, we are washed and clothed by Him, and
the more our garments are fitted for our future station, the fairer are
our inward persons; the more do we feel annoyed and grieved by any foul
spot, which could sully their purity and disfigure their beauty. My
young readers remember this, and smile no more at sin; aye, and shun
carefully its stains that would pollute you, and when they do alight
upon you, remember whose blood alone it is can purge away their
slightest trace.

Poor Mary had no breakfast that morning, nor no comfort nor rest either,
for after searching for the child all over the house, she must needs
look for him in the gardens, the pleasure grounds, the lawn, behind each
tree and shrub, and even in the stables and offices, but no Reuben was
to be met with, and the dear little girl, when wearied out with
searching sat down to weep and lament herself, starting up occasionally
when some fresh place came to her mind, and running to it, but to meet
with disappointment and increased alarm. But Mary was no