The Young Pilgrim: A Tale Illustrative of "The Pilgrim's Progress"

by A. L. O. E.

That those with whom Mark lived were indeed God’s servants, he at first never thought of doubting. Was there not a missionary-box placed upon the counter—was not Mr. Lowe ever speaking of religion—was he not foremost in every good work of charity—did he not most constantly attend church?

But there were several things which soon made the boy waver a little in his opinion. He could not help observing that his employer took care to lose no grain of praise for anything that he did. Instead of his left hand not knowing the good deeds of his right, it was no fault of his if all the world did not know them. Then, his manner a little varied with the character of his customers. With clergymen, or with those whom he considered religious, his voice became still softer, his manner more meek. Mark could not help suspecting that he was not quite sincere. The boy reproached himself, however, for daring to judge another, and that one so much more advanced in the Christian life than himself. He thought that it must be his own inexperience in religion that made him doubt its reality in Lowe.

Thus a few weeks passed in comfort with Mark; but the pilgrim was making no progress. It is not well for us to dwell amongst those whose profession is greater than their practice. The fervour of Mark’s first love was a little cooled. Alas! in weak, infirm mortals, such as we are, how inclined is that fervour to cool! There were no strong temptations to stir up the flame—no anxious fears to drive him to the mercy-seat—his prayers were perhaps more frequent, but they were less deep and earnest. Mark was tempted to rest a little upon forms, and think that all must be right, because others approved.

The Christian must not dream that he is only in danger whilst dwelling with the careless or profane. The society of professors may be quite as dangerous, by lulling his conscience to sleep. He is less on his guard against inward foes, less able to distinguish true religion in his heart, from the natural desire to please, and many of God’s children on earth have found the arbour more dangerous than the hill!

Not that Mark did much with which he could reproach himself, unless it were that he never sought an opportunity of going to see his mother. He connected nothing but ideas of persecution and unkindness with his home. He thought that by this time John Dowley might have returned, a man who had ever treated him with unnatural cruelty; and to say the truth, Mark rather dreaded going again near the place. I fear that my pilgrim is falling in the estimation of my reader; but I am drawing no sinless model of perfection; and, perhaps, if we closely examine our own hearts, even after they have been enlightened by the Spirit, there may be something in our own experience which will remind us of this chapter of the life of the pilgrim. I said that Mark suspected a little the sincerity of the religious professions of his master. This suspicion was painfully strengthened by an incident which occurred when he had been a few weeks under his roof.

One night, after the shop had been closed, and prayers said, and Mark had retired to his small attic, he fancied that he heard a little noise down below, and crept from his chamber to listen. All was very still, only the clock on the stairs seemed to tick twice as loudly as usual. Then again there was a slight sound, apparently from the shop, and Mark wondered what, at that hour, it could be. Softly he crept down the creaking stair, unwilling to disturb his master, who had retired to rest rather earlier than usual, happening to feel not very well. Mark reached the door which opened into the shop, and there was no doubt left that somebody was within engaged in some occupation.

Mark observed that the door, though nearly closed, was not shut, a narrow line of light showed it to be a little ajar; he pushed it very gently to widen the opening, and within, to his surprise, saw Radley.

“Who’s there?” exclaimed the shopman; “why, Mark, is it you? That’s lucky, you’ll come and help me, I daresay. I am so sleepy to-night—but this must be done.”

“What are you doing?” said Mark, with a feeling of curiosity.