"Of your future life, Mercy,--of your future life. I am wondering what it
will be, and if the dear Lord will carry you safe through all the
temptations which the world must offer to one so sensitive as you are to
all its beauties," replied Mr. Allen, sadly. Mercy was displeased. She was
always intolerant of this class of references to the Lord. Her sense of
honesty took alarm at them. In a curt and half-petulant tone, she
answered,--

"I suppose ministers have to say such things, Mr. Allen; but I wish you
wouldn't say them to me. I do not think that the Lord made the beautiful
things in this world for temptations; and I believe he expects us to keep
ourselves out of mischief, and not throw the responsibility on to him!"

"Oh, Mercy, Mercy! don't say such things! They sound irreverent: they
shock me!" exclaimed Mr. Allen, deeply pained by Mercy's tone and words.

"I am very sorry to shock you, Mr. Allen," replied Mercy, in a gentler
tone. "Pray forgive me. I do not think, however, there is half as much
real irreverence in saying that the Lord expects us to look out for
ourselves and keep out of mischief as there is in teaching that he made a
whole world full of people so weak and miserable that they couldn't look
after themselves, and had to be lifted along all the time."

Mr. Allen shook his head, and sighed. When Mercy was in this frame of
mind, it was of no use to argue with her. He returned to the subject of
her poetry.

"If you will keep on reading and studying, Mercy, and will compel yourself
to write and rewrite carefully, there is no reason why you should not have