Our Pilgrim rose early, with a heart full of hope. He determined not to quit the house till he had seen Mr. Searle or his daughter again, and waited in the hall till they should come down. Mark’s attention was at once riveted by what he had never seen before—a complete suit of armour hung against the wall; and while he was looking at it, and admiring its various parts, the master of the house approached him unobserved. “That is a fine suit of armour,” said Mr. Searle, “such as was worn in the time of the Crusades, when warlike pilgrims went to the Holy Land. Perhaps you have never heard of such?” “Yes, sir,” replied Mark, modestly. “There is the helmet, you see, to protect the head; the mail to cover the body and breast; the weighty sword, and the pointed shield. You observe the red cross upon it?” The looks of Mark showed the interest that he took. “We’re not done with fighting yet,” said the old gentleman, in a quaint manner which was peculiar to him. “While our three old enemies—the world, the flesh, and the devil—are lying in ambush to attack us, and the Holy Land which we hope to gain is before us, we must be armed pilgrims, ay, and fighting pilgrims too!” “Pray go on, sir,” said Mark, as the old gentleman stopped; “I so like to hear of these things.” “You see that our Leader has not sent us into battle unprovided. We have the Helmet of Proof, the Hope of Salvation, to prevent sinful doubts from wounding the head. Then the Breastplate of Righteousness to guard us; for we may be full of knowledge, and quite correct in our belief, but if we give way to wilful sin, of what avail is the soundness of the head when the heart is pierced by the fiery dart? Nor must we neglect the Girdle of Truth, nor the preparation of the Gospel of Peace for our feet.” “That is a part of the armour which I do not understand,” said Mark. “No? Long before you are as old as I, I hope that you will experimentally understand it. Yet I should think that you had known already what it is to tread some of the rough ways of life.” Mark heartily assented to this. “And every one knows the difference between walking with shoes and without them. Were I barefoot, I should start if I trod on a thorn, I should bleed if I struck against a sharp-edged stone; and so it is with the people of this world who are not shod with the Preparation of Peace. I have known the smallest thing worry and fret them; they were as wretched from one small brier in their path, as if it had been one labyrinth of thorns.” “And are all Christians safe from these little vexations?” “I can’t say that,” replied the old gentleman, “I can’t say that. There are many who cannot tread down small difficulties, but go on their whole way to heaven shrinking and starting at the least of them. But it strikes me that is because, while they have put on all the rest of the armour of God, they have neglected the sandals for the feet.