Though the following pages, at the first glance, naturally recall the famous allegory, which after two and a half centuries is still a world-wide classic, the reader will at once perceive an originality of treatment and an adaptation to modern conditions which give Miss Garratt's book a character and usefulness of its own. The writer shows an intelligent perception of the spiritual dangers in the present day, and describes how they may be met by the same weapons as those which gave the victory so often to Christian and Faithful. The characters are drawn with skill, and the dangers which befall the travellers on their way to the Radiant City, are those which probably the conscience of every reader will recognize. An important and valuable feature is the constant reference to the "Guide Book." It has just the teaching to be put into the hands of young people entering life, and yet has ample lessons for their elders.

REV. PREBENDARY H. E. Fox.

***

"It shone with a radiance like that of a very precious
stone, such as Jasper, bright and transparent."
—Rev. xxi. II. (Weymouth Version).

***

Darkness had settled down upon the town of Punon.* The streets, which were crowded with men and women, were only lit by unsatisfactory lamps, which made the darkness more visible, and cast gloomy shadows on every side. The sound of revelry which issued from open doors was in strange contrast with the sad gloomy faces of many of the passers-by.

Some looked hopeless and dreary, as if no gleam of sunshine had ever penetrated their souls; others wore an expression of deep despair, which did not change even when the passers-by looked at them with amusement, flinging a derisive laugh after them as they twitted them with their misery. For among the many were those who did not seem conscious of the gloom, or were indifferent to it, and these went by gaily chatting, intent on their business or pleasure.

* Darkness.

A sound of music and revelry issued from the window of a large building in one of the principal streets, and through the open door could be seen a number of people seated around a table laden with luxuries of all kinds, and gleaming with silver and glass.

At its head sat a young man whose expression of face did not exactly harmonize with his gay surroundings, or with the words that fell from his lips, for the words were full of mirth and jollity, and caused hilarious laughter from the assembled guests, among whom he was evidently a favourite. There was an amount of daring in his conversation that made the elders occasionally shake their heads as if only half approving of what they heard, but which caused cheers of approbation from the younger members of the community.

"Amer is not improving," said one of the guests in a low voice to his neighbour, "and now that he is on his way to make such a fortune no doubt he will grow more arrogant than he is already."

"Nevertheless, he is a nice fellow, and a great favourite," answered the one addressed, "and he has a generous hand so that he will share his fortune with his friends. There is something taking about the lad."

"I don't understand him," said the first speaker, "his face belies his words, from his conversation you would think him the happiest man alive, but his eyes tell a different tale."

His friend sighed heavily.

"Is there truly a happy man in this dark place?" he asked sadly, "to my mind all is vanity and vexation of spirit."

"Away with pessimism," cried the other, "look! our host demands silence while he delivers himself of the speech which if I mistake not he has been preparing for the occasion ever since he came of age. Hark! what is he saying?"

But the lad's first words were drowned by the prolonged cheers and clanging of the glasses of his guests, and he had to wait patiently for a hearing. And when at last the speech was made it was disappointing to some who had expected greater things from the speaker. He was evidently not in good form, for he paused again and again with a far away look in his eyes as if he heard some voice calling him, and had difficulty in concentrating his attention. As he closed however with a joke amid the cheers of his companions, there was suddenly a dead silence, as across the street came the loud and piercing sound of a trumpet.

"It is the herald again," someone exclaimed.

"Aye, It is the herald! He won't leave us alone, what do we want with him here?" grumbled another.

"He's enough to throw a gloom over the merriest feast," cried a third.

"Right you are. I could not sleep the other night for thinking of his prophecies about Punon. All are doomed to death who stay here," said the first speaker.

"We need not believe every fool who prates," cried Amer, "come and let's hear the man again and get some fun by questioning him as to the truth of his words."

"'Why, Amer, I began to think you half believed in him," laughed one of his companions as a stir began and a hasty exit was made from the house.

The herald was standing in the market-place.

"Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord," he cried.

Amer found his way to the front of the crowd in the masterful manner that was natural to him, his satellites surrounding him on every side.

And then began a volley of mocking questions and raillery, led by Amer and his companions, and aided by the lighter spirits among those present. Some of the questions the herald answered quietly and patiently, others he answered not at all, but stood and looked at the young men with sorrow and deep compassion written across his face. At last seeing that the people were demoralized by this band of intruders, he turned quietly away, saying in a solemn voice that rang loud and clear above the noise of the crowd—

"Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."

Slowly the crowd broke up, and Amer's friends parted from him with laughter and congratulations as to the success of his banquet, leaving him at last to find his way home alone.

"Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."

The words rang in the lad's head. The feast, his companions, the fun, all forgotten: the words, together with the gentle sternness of the face of the herald, alone filling his mind.

"Ah!" he cried, "It is the Voice again. I hoped it was stifled! I will not listen."

But the words would not leave him alone.

Amer had heard them the day before, from the lips of the herald, who had looked him straight in the face with his penetrating eyes, and they had cast a strange kind of spell over him. He had hoped that his coming of age feast would have dispelled the remembrance of them, but even in the middle of the speech, with which he had taken such pains, the Voice had been heard, causing him to stammer and forget what he had intended to say.

The Voice was insistent, compelling.

Suddenly a sweet vision met his eyes.

At the gate of a house he was passing stood a young girl dressed in white, who, at the sight of him, ran forward with outstretched hands.

"Amer," she cried, "have you had a happy day, has the feast gone off well?"

For the moment, at the touch of her hands and the sight of her sweet eyes, even the Voice was forgotten, and Amer eagerly told her of the delight of his companions and of the nice words they had said to him, but in answering her eager questions as to his speech, he paused in slight confusion.

"No," he said, "I did not excel as I had hoped. It was lame and I was hesitating."

"But why?" cried Gabrielle, "when you rehearsed it to me you never paused for a word; how was it, Amer?"

"I will tell you some day," he answered, "perhaps to-morrow."

He had an instinctive feeling that Gabrielle would not understand him or sympathize with his strange thoughts.

Gabrielle pouted, but his refusal was soon forgotten and they walked towards the house hand in hand.

Her eyes shone as stars in the gloom and her smile was better than sunshine to the lad who loved her with his whole soul. So happy was he in her presence that the sad forebodings that had interfered even with the joy of his feast were forgotten. They talked of the doings of the day; of to-morrow, when he was to be made partner in a great business transaction which promised an immense return; of the possibility of soon being able to fix upon the day which was to crown their love and to make them man and wife; and at last, with a joyful wave of the hand, he parted from her, crying—

"To-morrow, Gabrielle, we will meet again, to-morrow."

But no sooner had he left her to make his way towards his own home than his gay spirits departed, and the sound of the Voice seemed to thunder in his ear—

"Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."

Suddenly Amer turned round and making his way back towards the market-place, he enquired where he could find the herald.