DEBORAH'S BOOK.
side, doth lie as glowing coal at my heart. . . . . I have formerly lived by hearsay and by faith, but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself.
'" I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there have I coveted to set my foot too."'
Extraordinary words! their pathos and their sweetness reached into my heart even at that early day, though their meaning was shrouded in the veil that gathers round the path of childhood. I hung over the picture, and hoped the man with the solemn face would get safely to that golden gate; but I was very much afraid for him, the river looked so deep. I looked at the angel who stooped above him in the air with a crown in his hand. No doubt he would soon put it on. Then I read the last few pages, beginning with how the pilgrims reached the land of Beulah, 'where the sun shineth night and day.' What a wonderful river! I supposed it must be a long way oft", perhaps not in England at all, and England was a large place; but I thought I should like to find it some day, and did not know that 'some day' I inevitably should.
That night, when Deborah was curling my hair, I said to her, 'Deborah, does Mrs. Wells know you have got that book about the pilgrims?'
'Can't say;' replied Deborah; 'may be she does, may be not.'
I replied, 'Then hadn't you better tell her?'
'Bless the child, why?' said Deborah.
I am not sure that I explained why, or perfectly knew why, but I had an impression that nobody else
