iation,
fixed in stone; though at the beginning also living in the chants of
the monks.'

'Well, I am sure that is being religious!' said Mrs. Dallas. 'If such a
place as this does not honour religion, I don't know what does.'

'Mother, Christ said, "_I_ am the door."'

'Yes, my dear, but is not all this an appeal to Him?'

'Mother, he said, "He that believeth on me hath everlasting life." What
have saints and angels to do with it? "He that _belieth_."'

'Surely the builder of all this must have believed,' said Mrs. Dallas,
'or he would never have spent so much money and taken so much pains
about it.'

'If he had believed on Christ, mother, he would have known he had no
need. Think of those ten thousand masses to be said for him, that his
sins might be forgiven and his soul received into heaven; you see how
miserably uncertain the poor king felt of ever getting there.'

'Well,' said Mrs. Dallas, 'every one must feel uncertain! He cannot
_know_--how can he know?'

'How can he live and not know?' Pitt answered in a lowered tone.
'Uncertainty on that point would be enough to drive a thinking man mad.
Henry the Seventh, you see, could not bear it, and so he arranged to
have ten thousand masses said for him, and filled his chapel with
intercessory saints.'

'But I do not see how any one is to have certainty, Mr. Pitt,' Betty
said. 'One cannot see into the future.'

'It is only necessary to believe, in the present.'

'Believe what?'

'The word of the King, who promised,--"Whosoever liveth and believeth
in me _shall never die_." The love that came down here to die for us
will never let slip any poor creature that trusts it.'

'Yes; but suppose one cannot trust _so?_' objected Betty.

'Then there is probably a reason for it. Disobedience, even partial
disobedience, cannot perfectly trust.'

'How can sinful creatures do anything perfectly, Pitt?' his mother
asked, almost angrily.

'Mamma,' said he gravely, 'you trust _me_ so.'

Mrs. Dallas made no reply to that; and they moved on, surveying the
chapels. The good lady bowed her head in solemn approbation when shown
the place whence the bodies of Cromwell and others of his family and
friends were cast out after the Restoration. 'They had no business to
be there,' she assented.

'Where were they removed to?' Betty asked.

'Some of them were hanged, as they deserved,' said Mr. Dallas.

'Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw, at Tyburn,' Pitt added. 'The others
we