ate as that the words may
be applied to us. For a text may be full of comfort, and yet may not
belong to us."

Mr. Stock was afraid of saying more. He would not venture out of his
depth; nor indeed was poor Brown able to bear more discourse just
now. So he made him a present of the Bible, folding down such places
as he thought might be best suited to his state, and took his leave,
being obliged to return home that night. He left a little money with
the jailor, to add a few comforts to the allowance of the prison,
and promised to return in a short time.

When he got home, he described the sufferings and misery of Brown in
a very moving manner; but Tommy Williams, instead of being properly
affected by it, only said, "Indeed, master, I am not very sorry; he
is rightly served." "How, Tommy," said Mr. Stock (rather sternly),
"not sorry to see a fellow creature brought to the lowest state of
misery; one too whom you have known so prosperous?" "No, master, I
can't say I am; for Mr. Brown used to make fun of you, and laugh at
you for being so godly, and reading your Bible."

"Let me say a few words to you, Tommy," said Mr. Stock. "In the
first place you should never watch for the time of a man's being
brought low by trouble to tell of his faults. Next, you should never
rejoice at his trouble, but pity him, and pray for him. Lastly, as
to his ridiculing me for my religion, if I can not stand an idle
jest, I am not worthy the name of a Christian. _He that is ashamed
of me and my word_--dost remember what follows, Tommy?" "Yes,
master, it was last Sunday's text--_of him shall the Son of Man be
ashamed when he shall judge the world._"

Mr. Stock soon went back to the prison. But he did not go alone. He
took with him Mr. Thomas, the worthy minister who had been the guide
and instructor of his youth, who was so kind as to go at his request
and visit this forlorn prisoner. When they got to Brown's door, they
found him sitting up in his bed with the Bible in his hand. This was
a joyful sight to Mr. Stock, who secretly thanked God for it. Brown
was reading aloud; they listened; it was the fifteenth of St. Luke.
The circumstances of this beautiful parable of the prodigal son were
so much like his own, that the story pierced him to the soul: and he
stopped every minute to compare his own case with that of the
prodigal. He was just got to the eighteenth verse, _I will arise and
go to my father_--at that moment he spied his two friends