“I will ask her, and I am sure I shall not be refused,” said Thomas; “but here is your milk—­come, I am going with you.”

Mrs. Walters, either being in a better humour than usual, or wishing to appear amiable to her respectable neighbour, not only took no notice of William’s rather long stay, but consented he should spend Sunday evening with the watchman.

Great lightness of heart would have been his in consequence of this consent, had not his spirit been weighed down with the burden of his sin.  He felt how blunt are all the arrows of adversity in comparison with those of guilt; and how insignificant are all the trials imposed by cruel men, contrasted with the pain of soul caused by the sense of having displeased God.

Twilight came on, and with it he sought the quiet of his comfortless attic.  Its rude walls and squalid furniture were, however, not now noticed; its privacy and seclusion were all that his soul desired.  He threw himself on the pallet which served him for a bed, and wept bitterly as he thought of his parents, who had taken so much pains to teach him to abhor a lie, and recalled the words of his mother, who constantly admonished him how much better it was to suffer wrongfully than do wrong; and bitter was his self-reproach, that for the sake of a paltry sixpence he had told a lie, and in doing so sinned against the God of truth, whose word declares that “lying lips are an abomination to the Lord.”

Oh, how guilty he felt! how humbled in his own estimation! and with deep and bitter repentance he bewailed his error, and entreated pardon from Him who for Christ’s sake will always hear the penitent when they pray, and help them in their time of trial.  “My heavenly Father,” was the language of his anguished heart, “I have sinned, and am most unhappy; save me from temptation, or give me strength to resist when it comes.”

It was long before the violence of his grief passed away, and when it did, feeling no inclination to sleep, he went to his trunk for his Bible, which latterly he had somewhat neglected.  As he turned over the articles which lay within it, most of which he had brought from home, and which served most vividly to recall the happiness of his earlier years, his eyes rested upon the portfolio of his father’s drawings, which lay on the bottom, and on which he had not lately looked.  As he opened it a folded paper fell from between the leaves.  He took it up and opened it—­it was the little drawing which he had made in the church-yard; and as he gazed on it he recollected the stranger who had coloured it, and with remembrance of him came that also of his spiritual conversation.  He read the words written on the back:  “Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation;” “Watch that you may pray, and pray that you may be safe;” and the tide of tears once more burst forth.

“I was not watchful,” he said; “I did not pray as I ought; but I will try never to forget my duty again.”