f her unhappy son-in-law; while
at the same time Amos never lost an opportunity of directing his dear
mother to that Word of consolation, which he knew would be to her, as it
had been to himself, the only true and satisfying fountain of abiding
peace. And thus it was that she now learned to love that Bible which,
in former days, had never been really her stay, for she had not then
given her heart to Him who is the author, the centre, and the giver of
all truth, peace, and consolation.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
A SLIP ON THE ROAD.
It will be remembered that Julia and Walter had an excursion to a
neighbouring fashionable watering-place about five miles distant, and
spent the day there while Amos was making his first call at his mother's
retreat, and that they returned in the evening out of spirits, something
evidently having gone amiss with them. The incidents of that excursion
will sufficiently explain the cause of their depression.
It can readily be understood that Walter's progress in the higher paths
of duty on which he had now sincerely entered was not at all times
equally rapid. He was always meaning well, and could "put on a spurt
and row hard against the stream," as he himself expressed it, from time
to time, but the long, steady, and regular stroke he found it very hard
to keep up. Naturally full of spirits, cherished and encouraged in
thoughts of his own superiority, and accustomed, as long as he could
remember, to have pretty much his own way, it was no light thing for him
to put a curb on his inclinations, or to check sudden impulses when they
were in the direction of what was dashing or generous. So that, while
his deliberate convictions were on the side of all that was right, he
was very liable to be led to swerve a little from the narrow path when
any sudden strain was put upon him by his own natural or acquired
tastes, where he could not gratify these with a safe conscience.
With Julia the case was different. Long had she resisted the hand that
would have led her heavenwards by trial and sorrow. High-spirited,
self-willed, and self-absorbed though not selfish, she had struggled
long against those cords of love which were drawing her out of the
pathway of error and death. But she had yielded at last, and, having
yielded, she struggled no longer. Her one great and abiding desire now
was to make progress on the higher road. Not that she had lost her
relish for amusement or her interest in ou
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