pair them. His life, he believed
to be irretrievably lost, and he wished only to commit himself to the
mercy of God, and die.

For a few days, he remained reserved and sunk in a deep melancholy.

At length, Mr. Norton said to him, "I trust you are not offended with
me, my dear sir, for those plain words I addressed to you the other
day. Be assured that though stern, they were dictated by my friendship
for you and my duty towards God".

"Offended! my good friend. O no. What you said, is true. But it is too
late for me to know it. Through the merits of Christ, I hope for the
pardon of my sins. I am willing to live and suffer, if it is His
behest. But you perceive my power to act for the cause of truth is
gone. My past has taken away all good influence from my future course.
Who will accept my testimony now? I have probably lost caste in my own
circle, and have, doubtless, lost my power to influence it, even
should I be received back to its ties. In society, I am a dishonored
man. I cannot have the happiness of working for the truth,--for
Christ. My power is destroyed".

"You are wrong, entirely wrong, my dear sir. Have courage. Shall not
that man walk erect and joyous before the whole world, whatever his
past may have been, whose sins have been washed away in the blood of
Christ and whose soul is inspired by a determination to abide by faith
in Him forever? I say, yes. Do the work of God. He will take care of
you. Live, with your eye fixed on Him, ready to obey His will, seeking
His heavenly aid, and you can face the frowns of men, while serene
peace fills your heart".

Thus cheered and strengthened from day to day, Mr. Brown gained
gradually in health and hope. Especially did Mr. Norton strive to
invigorate his faith. He justly thought, it was only a strong grasp on
eternal realities, that could supply the place of those granite
qualities of the soul, so lacking in this lovable, fascinating young
man.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE GROVE.

In the meanwhile, three or four times during the week, Mr. Norton
continued to hold meetings for the people in Micah's Grove.

There had been but little rain in the Miramichi region during the
summer and autumn. In fact, none worthy of note had fallen for two
months, except what came during the late equinoctial storm. The grass
was parched with heat, the roads were ground to a fine dust, which a
breath of wind drove, like clouds of smoke, into the burning air; the
forest leav