the singing, and how to make
pikelets, and keep the house clean on a week-day. I'm going to love my
enemies, and do good to them that hate me; so don't thee be shy-like.
We'll be friends like Stephen and Tim; and weren't they enemies afore
Stephen learned to read?'

That night, as Stephen lay down to sleep, he said to himself, 'I'm glad
Black Bess came to eat pikelets with Martha. My chapter says, "Whosoever
shall do the commandments, and teach them, the same shall be called great
in the kingdom of heaven." Perhaps Martha and me will be called great in
heaven, if we teach Bess how to do God's commandments.'

CHAPTER XIII.

THE OLD SHAFT.

Black Bess began to visit the cinder-hill cabin very often. But there
was a fatal mistake, which poor Stephen, in his simplicity and
single-heartedness, was a long time in discovering. Martha herself had
not truly set out on the path of obedience to God's commandments; and it
was not possible that she could teach Bess how to keep them. A Christian
cannot be like a finger-post, which only points the way to a place, but
never goes there itself. She could teach Bess the words of the hymn, and
the tunes they were sung to; but she could tell her nothing of the
feeling of praise and love to the Saviour with which Stephen sang them,
and out of which all true obedience must flow. With her lips she could
say, 'Blessed are the poor in spirit,' and 'Blessed are the meek,' and
'Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst after righteousness;' but she
cared for none of these things, and felt none of their blessedness in her
own soul; and Bess very quickly found out that she would far rather talk
about other matters. And because our hearts, which are foolish, and
deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, soon grow weary of
good, but are ever ready to delight in evil, it came to pass that,
instead of Martha teaching poor ignorant Bess how to do God's will, Bess
was leading her into all sorts of folly and wickedness.

It would be no very easy task to describe how unhappy Stephen was when,
from day to day, he saw Martha's pleasant sisterly ways change into a
rude and careless harshness, and her thrifty, cleanly habits give place
to the dirty extravagance of the collier-folk at Botfield. But who could
tell how he suffered in his warm, tender-hearted nature, when he came
home at night, and found the poor old grandfather neglected, and left
desolate in his blindness; and little Nan