DEBORAH'S BOOK.
had such a book, but only Deborah; and probably my remarks made her see this, for I distinctly remember her declaring that Mr. Pipe, the bookseller down town, had a great many copies of that very book; that she was sure of it, and that she herself had seen them.
My next question I remember clearly, owing, perhaps, to her making me repeat it several times. It was, 'Have you ever seen the wicket gate?'
Deborah stood as if bewildered when I repeated the query. At last, her face suddenly cleared, and she exclaimed, 'Bless the child, I thought she meant the real thing, that I did! Yes, my pretty; I've seen it, to be sure, and a very pretty picture it is—Christian just a-going to knock at the door, and ever so many angels looking on. Hold your head still, Miss Rosamond—how the sea air does take your hair out of curl!'
'Then,' said I, 'you have only seen the picture, just the same as I have.'
I do not remember what followed, excepting that, as Deborah clearly had not seen the wicket gate, I began to inquire whether anybody in the neighborhood had seen it, and whether Mr. Pipe had seen it, or had ever been to look for it.
Deborah, to all and each of my questions, replied, that she did not believe anybody had seen it, or had been to look for it; that if anybody knew anything about it, she should judge Mr. Pipe did, for she often saw him reading in his shop as she went by, and everybody said he was a very religious man. Deborah, in answer to my urgent questions, was induced to say that she judged the wicket gate must be a long way off;
