In 1853, when Religion walks in satin slippers, perhaps you think that
no martyrs can be found. Dear children, Aunt Fanny sees them every day;
bearing tortures worse than the fire, or the rack, and opening their
burdened hearts to God alone.

But it is not of these that I would speak _now_. I am going to tell you
of a _little boy martyr_.

"Knud Iverson" was a little Norwegian, a countryman of the famous "Ole
Bull," the great violinist.

Knud's parents had come over from Norway to this country, and settled
in Chicago. (You will find that place if you look in your Atlas, and I
should like to have you find it, because I want you to remember all
about this dear little boy.)

Knud had been early taught how to be a good boy. His parents' words did
not pass into his ears to be forgotten. Knud remembered _everything_
they said; and, what was better, he _practiced_ it. They were quite
sure that when Knud was out of their sight, he behaved just as well as
if their eyes were on him. Can _your_ father and mother be as sure of
YOU?

Knud loved to go to Sabbath school; he never was absent from his class
once. He was not frightened away by a drop of rain, or a warm sun; he
_loved_ to go. His mother did not have to say to him, "Come, come,
Knud! don't you know it is time you were preparing to go to school?"
or, "Come, come, Knud! it is time you were looking over your Sunday
school lesson." No; he was always ready; his lesson in his _head_, and
love for God in his _heart_; and away he trudged, cheerful and happy,
to gladden the eyes of his kind teacher by being promptly in his place.

Perhaps you think because Knud loved to _pray_ that he didn't love to
_play_. Not at all. You didn't know that good boys enjoy play much
better than _bad_ ones, did you? Well, they _do_; because their
consciences are not troubling them all the while, as those of bad boys
are.

Yes, Knud loved to play; but he could never play with _bad_ boys, or
help them to do wrong. And he wasn't a coward, either, as you will see.
He spoke right up, and told them kindly what he thought, and begged
_them_ not to do evil, either.

One day he was walking peaceably along, thinking happy thoughts, when a
party of bad boys came up to him, saying: "Knud, we know where there is
some splendid fruit, and we want some, and what is more, we are
determined to have some; and we want you to go with us and help us to
get it."

"What, _steal_?" said Knud; fixing his clear,