on was _permitted_, in order to show him that a better
strength than his own was necessary, and that it is only through the
divine Helper that any can be delivered from the power of the great
enemy "who goeth about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour."

Mr. Walters at once recognised the falsehood our poor hero was tempted
to tell; and although he was in the habit of beating him for almost
every offence, the chastisement on this occasion exceeded any that had
gone before. Severe indeed were the blows rained down on his back and
shoulders; less, indeed, intended as a punishment for the falsehood,
than a pouring out of his own wrathful spirit on the child, who for
the first time had manifested a spirit of opposition to his will.

Poor boy, every bone in his body ached; but what was that in
comparison with the anguish of soul he endured? Conscience, that sure
monitor, proclaimed with its still small voice, "Thou hast sinned
against God;" and he longed for the hour when he could be alone, and,
like erring Peter, "weep bitterly."

It was Saturday evening, and work was left off at an earlier hour than
usual. And well was it for our hero that Jem Taylor was too much bent
on the pursuance of his own low pleasures to remain a moment after the
signal was given to cease work. Perhaps more poison would have been
instilled into the soul which had been found vulnerable; perhaps such
a line of proceeding prompted as would have proved, if not ultimately
successful, at least productive of much suffering; for the blessed
Scriptures tell us that "transgression shall be visited with the rod,
and iniquity with stripes."

He was sitting alone in a corner of the shop when the shrill voice of
Mrs. Walters was heard calling him to "go to Burton's for milk." He
obeyed, and wiping his streaming eyes, with an attempt to look
cheerful, he entered the neat little room, where he found his friend
Thomas, who had left the scene of strife unobserved.

"Sit down, Will," said he, in a kindly tone, that, going straight to
the boy's heart, once more unlocked the fountain of his tears; "the
old woman is taking her bread out of the oven, but she will be here in
a moment."

"I dare not stay," replied the boy; "I must go home and come back
rather than wait. Mrs. Walters always scolds if I stay."

"I will go with you and carry your excuse," rejoined Thomas; "but
there is one thing about which I have long wanted to ask you. I never
see you dresse