The Warren Lodge was one of those pretty little cottages which are often to be found nestling in bright, peaceful corners, about the parks and estates of such wealthy squires as Mr. Acres; men whose kindliness of heart and whose refinement of taste induce them to combine the picturesque with the comfortable, in the houses they provide for their tenants and retainers. It was built very near to the Warren Gate of the park, and old Wood had been placed here because, being a spot little frequented, it was a quiet resting-place for him in his old age. Opposite the cottage was a lovely glen, where yew-trees and laurels, mingling with oaks and beeches, hung in many beautiful and fantastic forms over a greensward which all the year round never lost its verdure or its softness. Seldom did old Master Wood and his wife wander farther from their cottage than the end of this quiet glen; but that was their daily walk, and Mr. Acres had put up two rustic seats for them to rest upon, so that the old couple might accomplish their daily journey without any great fatigue. But the old man was now too weak for this.

"I think you and the children had better go in, and leave me outside," said Mr. Acres, "as possibly poor Wood may feel more at his ease if I am not present."

So Mr. Ambrose and the three children entered the cottage. It was, as always, the picture of neatness and cleanliness; there were a few well-tended geraniums in the windows, and some nice pictures on the walls—not the gaudy, vulgar prints which are so commonly found in the cottages of the poor, but really good and well-coloured engravings of sacred subjects—a supply of which Mr. Ambrose always kept on sale at a very low price[56]. There was enough of neat furniture in the rooms; and on a nice bed, with snow-white drapery, lay the poor old man. After a short conversation Mr. Ambrose read the twelfth chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, and then, when he had given a short explanation of the chapter, all knelt down whilst he said some collects from the Office of the Visitation of the Sick, and a prayer applicable to the special circumstances of these humble cottagers.

The prayers ended, the old man rose up in his bed, and said, "Ah, sir, I have often thought of that chapter you read just now, when I was able to go to our dear old church. Just opposite my seat, you know, was the picture on the wall of the man giving a poor thirsting creature a cup of water, and of another giving a loaf of bread to somebody that looked very hungry. When Mr. Greekhurst was at our church, years ago, you know, sir, he used to preach very learned sermons, and we poor people couldn't understand much about them, but there was my text and sermon too, straight before me, and I always remembered the picture if I didn't remember the sermon. I really think that looking on the old picture made me somehow more kindly disposed to some of my neighbours. I suppose it has been there a great many years, sir?"

"Yes, my friend; I should think about five hundred years."

"So long as that! Well then, I hope it has taught a good lesson to many before me."

"No doubt it has; and though it is now almost worn away from the wall, you will be glad to know that we have the same subject in the new painted window close by, so the old sermon will not be lost."

"'Tis strange, sir, how well one remembers pictures of this sort, and how they make one think about things which, but for them, we certainly might not care to inquire much about. Now when I was a young man I never thought a great deal of that beautiful chapter where St. Paul says so much about charity. I had often heard the chapter read, and sometimes read it myself, but still it never came to my mind how necessary a thing charity was for us to have, till one day I went to Sunday-morning service at an old church near our home. I got to the church some time before service, so I walked about the churchyard, and looked round the church, and there were pictures all round the outside of the walls of the church[57], explaining that chapter. There was one man bringing all his riches, and every thing he had, to give to the poor, and there was another poor man being burnt to death, and so on; and then at the last it said that, without love to God and man, all this was good for nothing. Now, sir, I don't recollect a single word of hundreds of sermons I have heard, but I shall never forget those pictures."

"Very likely, for most of us remember better what we see than what we hear, and it is a great mistake not to teach people through the eye as well as the ear. But we must say good-bye, as Mr. Acres is waiting for us in the park. God bless you, and, if it is His will, I hope you may yet be strong enough to enjoy many of your old walks."

On their return home they followed a path which led them again through the churchyard of St. Catherine's, and were soon joined by the Squire, whose patience had been somewhat exhausted by the long stay of the little party at old Wood's cottage.

CHAPTER XII

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THE WALLS

"Thou shalt call thy walls salvation, and thy gates praise."

Isa. lx. 18.