which our incapacity or our ignorance keeps us silent upon at table.  We think that topic both ill-timed and impertinent and unsafe to which we are not invited to contribute anything.  “I am a very ignorant man,” he went on to say; and, if that was said in any humility, Feeble-mind never said a truer word.  “It is with me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, or as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease.”  All which only brought Greatheart out in his very best colours.  “But, brother,” said the guide, “I have it in commission to comfort the feeble-minded, and to support the weak.  You must needs go along with us; we will wait for you, we will lend you our help, we will deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative and practical, for your sake; we will not enter into doubtful disputations before you; we will be made all things to you rather than that you shall be left behind.”

7.  The first thing that did Mr. Feeble-mind any real good was his being made military guard over the women and the children while the men went out to demolish Doubting Castle. Quis custodiet? you will smile and say when you hear that.  Who shall protect the protector? you will say.  But wait a little.  Greatheart knew his business.  For not only did Feeble-mind rise to the occasion, when he was put to it; but, more than that, he was the soul of good company at supper-time that night.  “Jocund and merry” are the very words.  Yes; give your feeble and fault-finding folk something to do.  Send them to teach a class.  Send them down into a mission district.  Lay a sense of responsibility upon them.  Leave them to deal with this and that emergency themselves.  Cease carrying them on your back, and lay weak and evil and self-willed people on their back.  Let them feel that they are of some real use.  As Matthew Arnold says, Let the critic but try practice, and you will make a new man of him.  As Greatheart made of Feeble-mind by making him mount guard over the Celestial caravan while the fighting men were all up at Doubting Castle.

8.  “Mark this,” says Mr. Feeble-mind’s biographer on the early margin of his history, lest we should be tempted to forget the good parts of this troublesome and provoking pilgrim—­“Mark this.”  This, namely, which Feeble-mind says to his guide.  “As to the main, I thank Him that loves me, I am fixed.  My way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind.”  And that leads us with returning regard and love to turn to the end of his history, where we read:  “After this Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the post sounded his horn at his chamber door.  Then he came in and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and that in very little time thou must behold His face in brightness.  Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told