The Pilgrim's Progress

THE LITTLE PILGRIM. THE STORY OF A LITTLE GIRL WHO TRIED TO GO ON PILGRIMAGE.

IN a large old house, with two kind aunts,
The little Marian dwelt;
And a happy child she was, I ween,
For though at times she felt
That playmates would be better far
Than either birds or flowers,
Yet her kind old aunts, and story books,
Soothed many lonely hours. TPP 390.1

Her favorite haunt, in the summer-time,
Was a large old apple-tree;
And oft amid the boughs she sat.
With her pet book on her knee.
The "Pilgrim's Progress" was its name,
And Marian loved it much;
It is, indeed, a glorious book,
There are not many such! TPP 390.2

She read it in her little bed,
Beside the winter fire.
And in summer-time, in the apple-tree,
As though she would never tire.
But, unexplained, 'tis just the book
To puzzle the young brain;
And the poor child had no kind friend.
Its meaning to explain. TPP 390.3

For though her aunts were very kind,
They were not overwise,
And only said, "Don't read so, child,
I'm sure you'll spoil your eyes." TPP 391.1

But Marian still went reading on.
And visions strange and wild
Began to fill the little head
Of the lonely, dreaming child;
For she thought that Christian and his wife,
And all their children too,
Had left behind their pleasant home,
And done what she must do. TPP 391.2

"I'll take my Bible," said the child,
"And seek the road to heaven;
I'll try to find the Wicket Gate,
And hope to be forgiven.
I wish my aunts would go with me,
But 'tis in vain to ask;
They are so deaf and rather lame.
They'd think it quite a task. TPP 391.3

No! I must go alone, I see.
So I'll not let them know;
Or, like poor Christian's friends, they'll say,
'My dear, you must not go.' But I must wait till some grand scheme
Can all their thoughts engage;
And then I'll leave my pleasant home,
And go on pilgrimage." TPP 391.4

She had not waited long, before,
One fine autumnal day,
She saw the large old coach arrive,
To take her aunts away.
"We're going out to spend the day,"
The two old ladies said;
"We mean to visit Mrs. Blair—
Poor soul!—she's ill in bed. TPP 392.1

"But, Marian, you must stay at home,
For the lady's ill, you see;
You can have your dinner, if you like,
In the large old apple-tree,
And play in the garden all the day,
Quite happy and content."
A few more parting words were said.
And off the ladies went. TPP 392.2

The servants, too, were all engaged;
"The day is come at last,"
Said Marian, "but oh, I wish,
My pilgrimage was past."
She knelt beside the apple-tree.
And for God's assistance prayed;
Then, with her basket in her hand.
Forth tripped the little maid. Behind the house where Marian dwelt,
Far off in the distance, lay
A high steep hill, which the sun at morn
Tinged with its earliest ray.
"Difficulty" was its rightful name,
The child had often thought;
Towards this hill she turned her steps,
With hopeful visions fraught. TPP 392.3

The flowers seemed to welcome her,
'Twas a lovely autumn morn.
The little lark sang merrily,
Above the waving corn.
"Ah, little lark, you sing," said she,
"On your early pilgrimage;
I, too, will sing, for pleasant thoughts
Should now my mind engage." TPP 393.1

In clear, sweet strains she sang a hymn,
And tripped lightly on her way;
Until a pool of soft, thick mud
Across her pathway lay.
"This is the Slough of Despond," she cried,
But she bravely ventured through;
And safely reached the other side.
But she lost one little shoe. TPP 393.2

On an old gray stone she sat her down,
To eat some fruit and bread;
Then took her little Bible out,
And a cheering psalm she read. Then with fresh hope she journeyed on,
For many miles away;
And she reached the bottom of the hill,
Before the close of day. TPP 393.3

She clambered up the steep ascent.
Though faint and weary, too;
But firmly did our Marian keep
Her purpose still in view. TPP 394.1

"I'm glad, at least, the arbor's past,"
Said the little tired soul;
'I'm sure I should have sat me down
And lost my little roll!"
On the high hill-top she stands at last,
And our weary Pilgrim sees
A porter's lodge, of ample size,
Half hid by sheltering trees. TPP 394.2

She clapped her hands with joy, and cried,
"Oh, there's the Wicket Gate,
And I must seek admittance there,
Before it is too late."
Gently she knocks—'tis answered soon,
And at the open door
Stands a tall, stout man—poor Marian felt
As she ne'er had felt before. TPP 394.3

With tearful eyes, and trembling hand,
Flushed cheek, and anxious brow,
She said, "I hope you're Watchful, Sir,
I want Discretion now." "Oh yes, I'm watchful," said the man,
"As a porter ought to be;
I s'pose you've lost your way, young Miss,
You've lost your shoe, I see. TPP 394.4

"Missus," he cried to his wife within,
"Here's a child here, at the door,
You'll never see such a one again,
If you live to be fourscore.
She wants discretion, so she says,
Indeed I think 'tis true;
But I know some who want it more,
Who will not own they do." TPP 395.1

"Go to the Hall," his wife replies,
"And take the child with you,
The ladies there are all so wise,
They'll soon know what to do."
The man complied, and led the child
Through many a flowery glade;
"Is that the Palace Beautiful?"
The little Pilgrim said. TPP 395.2

"There, to the left, among the trees?
Why, Miss, 'tis mighty grand;
Call it a palace, if you please,
'Tis the finest in the land.
Now we be come to the fine old porch,
And this is the Marble Hall;
Here, little lady, you must stay,
While I the servants call." Tired and sad he left the child,
But he quickly re-appeared,
And with him the lady of the house—
Poor Marian's heart was cheered.
"Sweet little girl," the lady said,
In accents soft and kind,
"I'm sure you sadly want some rest,
And rest you soon shall find." TPP 395.3

To a room where three young ladies sat,
The child was quickly led;
"Piety, Prudence, and Charity,"
To herself she softly said.
"What is your name, my little dear?"
Said the eldest of the three,
Whom Marian, in her secret thought,
Had christened Piety. TPP 396.1

"We'll send a servant to your friends,
How uneasy they must be!"
Admiringly she watched the child,
Who, indeed, was fair to see;
Around her bright and lovely face
Fell waves of auburn hair,
As modestly she told her name,
With whom she lived and where. TPP 396.2

"How did you lose your way, my love?"
She gently raised her head;
"I do not think I've lost my way,"
The little Pilgrim said. "This is the Palace Beautiful,
May I stay here to-night?"
They smiled and said, "We're glad our house
Finds favor in your sight:— TPP 396.3

"Yes, gladly will we keep you here,
For many nights to come."
"Thank you," said Marian, "but I soon
Must seek my heavenly home.
The Valley of the Shadow of Death
Is near this house, I know"—
She stopped, for she saw,with great surprise,
Their tears began to flow. TPP 397.1

She little thought the mourning dress,
Which all the ladies wore,
Was for one whom they had dearly loved,
And should see on earth no more.
Their brother had been called away,
Their brightest and their best;
No wonder, then, that Marian's words
Roused grief in every breast. TPP 397.2

Sobs only for awhile were heard;
At length the ladies said,
"My, love, you have reminded us
Of our loved and early dead;
But this you could not know, my dear,
And it indeed is true;
We are all near to Death's dark door,
Even little girls like you."
"Yes," said the timid, trembling child,
"I know it must be so;
But, ma'am, I hope that Piety
May be with me when I go.
And will you show me your armory,
When you have time to spare?
I hope you have some small enough
For a little girl to wear." TPP 397.3

No more she said, for Piety,
As Marian called her, cast
Her arms around the Pilgrim's neck,
The secret's out at last.
"You puzzled all," said Piety;
"But now, I see, you've read
A glorious book, which, unexplained,
Has turned your little head. TPP 398.1

"Oh, dearly, when I was a child,
I loved that Pilgrim Tale;
But then mamma explained it well—
And if we can prevail
On your kind aunts to let you stay
Some time with us, my dear,
You shall read that book with my mamma,
And she will make it clear." TPP 398.2

Now we'll return to Marian's home,
And see what's passing there.
The servants all had company,
And a merry group they were. They had not missed our Pilgrim long,
For they knew she oft would play
In that old garden, with a book,
The whole of the livelong day. TPP 398.3

"Betty," at last, said the housekeeper,
"Where can Miss Marian be?
Her dinner was in the basket packed,
But sure, she'll come in to tea!"
They sought her here, they sought her there,
But they could not find the child;
And her poor old aunts, when they came home,
With grief were almost wild. TPP 399.1

The coachman and the footman too,
In different ways were sent;
But none thought of the narrow way
In which the Pilgrim went.
"Perhaps she followed us to town,"
Poor Aunt Rebecca said,
"I wish we had not left our home;
I fear the child is dead." TPP 399.2

And to the town the coachman went,
For they knew not what to do;
And night drew on, when a country boy
Brought Marian's little shoe.
With the shoe in her hand, the housekeeper
Into the parlor ran,
"Oh, Mistress, here is all that's left
Of poor Miss Marian. It was found sticking in the mud,
Just above Harlem Chase;
I fear the poor child's perished there,
For 'tis a frightful place."
Then louder grew the ladies' grief;
But soon their hearts were cheered,
When a footman grand, with a note in his hand,
From the distant Hall appeared. TPP 399.3

Aunt Ruth now read the note, and cried,
"Oh, sister, all is well!
The child is safe at Brookland Hall,
With Lady Arundel,
Who wants to keep her for a month;
Why, yes; I think she may—
Such friends as Lady Arundel
Are not met with every day. TPP 400.1

"Our compliments, and thanks to her,
When you return, young man;
We'll call to-morrow at the Hall,
And see Miss Marian."
Then came a burst of grateful joy,
That could not be suppressed,
And, with thankful hearts and many tears,
The ladies went to rest. TPP 400.2

We'll take a peep at our Marian now,
There in her bed lies she;
How blissful were her dreams that night,
In the arms of Piety.
Oh, that happy month at Brookland Hall,
How soon it passed away!
Cheerful and good were Marian's friends,
And who so kind as they? TPP 400.3

And, more than all, while there she stayed
They did their best to bring
The little lamb to that blest fold
Where reigns the Shepherd King.
For many a lesson ne'er forgot,
The little Marian learned;
And a thoughtful and a happier child
She to her home returned. TPP 401.1

Years rolled away, the scene has changed,
A wife and mother now,
Marian has found the Wicket Gate,
She and her children too.
And oh! how sweet it is to see
This little Pilgrim band,
As on towards their heavenly home,
They travel hand in hand.
When cloudy days fall to their lot,
They see a light afar,
The light that shone on Bethlehem's plain,
The Pilgrim's guiding star. TPP 401.2

And now, dear children, whosoe'er,
Or whereso'er you be,
Who ponder o'er this strange, true tale
Of Marian's history,— If to the flowers of your young hearts.
Instruction's dews are given,
Oh! be earnest as our Marian was,
To find the road to Heaven. TPP 401.3