“By praying for it,” replied Mary; “we should often say, ‘Lord teach us to pray.’ Our Saviour says, ‘Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.’ ‘Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full;’ ‘seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.’” “And will praying teach me every thing,” said Lacy. “The Holy Spirit will teach you,” replied Connor, “to understand what you read in the Bible, and hear on the Sabbath. When we read the Scriptures let our prayer be, ‘Lord, open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law.’” “Well, if I had time, I would read the Bible,” said Lacy. “Cannot you read it, as I do, of an evening after work, and on Sundays?” “No,” said Lacy, “I am too tired at night to bother myself with book learning; and Sunday is the only day I have for making merry.” Thus does Satan try to smother the first sparks of conviction in our hearts, and make us unwilling to strive for a blessing. Lacy and Susan thought themselves excellent Christians for having been to prayers; and in the labour of the week they soon forgot the warning voice of the clergyman and of Connor. CHAP. III. THE next Sunday at breakfast, Lacy said, “Will you go to prayers, Susan?” “Yes,” said Susan, “I think I will.” “So will I,” replied Lacy, “but don’t it look like rain?” “To be sure the clouds are blackish,” answered Susan; “but perhaps it may clear up.” Lacy yawned, stretched himself, lighted his pipe, and fell into a fit of thinking. An hour after, he said, looking out at the door, “’Tis too late now.” “That is your fault,” said Susan, “I was willing to go.” Lacy was about making a sharp reply, but recollecting what the clergyman had said about provoking one another to anger, he held his tongue; and when Susan went out of the room he felt as proud as if he had killed a lion; for nothing is so pleasant as thinking we have been enabled to overcome a bad inclination. “I think,” said he, “I shall get very good now, after this, by myself.” Susan now came back with her gown, and hung it before the fire, for the weather had been damp. “Keep your nasty pipe out of the way,” said she to her husband, “or my gown will be spoiled.” “What a fuss you make about your gown,” replied he; “it would be well if you thought as much of washing my shirt.” “No matter,” said she, “I say you shan’t smoke my gown.” “And I say I’ll do as I like, wife,” replied he. “Tobacco won’t hurt your gown—look here,” and he was so mischievous as to let some of the ashes fall on it. Susan cried out, snatched his pipe, broke it, and threw the pieces at him. This was too much for Lacy’s patience, though he was not often passionate: he seized the gown, and running to the door, tossed it into the mud that lay in the front of the house.