About this time there came a great change in Jack's life, for he left his home and went to England. The friend who had been so kind to him was going back to her home, and could not bear to leave him behind, so she asked his parents to allow him to go with her. They did not refuse, for they were very grateful to her for all that she had done for their poor boy; and his mother said, "Take him; he is more your child than ours." So Jack went first to Dublin, where nothing he saw struck him with such wonder as the ships in the river; and then he went on board ship and sailed over the sea, and up the river Avon to Clifton. In this beautiful place he lived for a year. He became a good and faithful servant to his mistress, and especially loved to wait upon and play with "Baby-boy," a little nephew of hers of whom he was very fond. But you must not think Jack was always good. He had a very angry temper, and would sometimes go into a passion, and cry in a very naughty way; or else sulk so as to make not only himself but his kind and gentle lady miserable; and sometimes he had to be punished for his bad ways. But whenever he had shown this naughty temper, the time came when he was very, very sorry. He would go and have what he called "a long pray," and tell God all about it. I do not know whether it was at such a time that he spoke to his mistress about the "red hand;" but before I tell you of this, which has always seemed to me very beautiful, I must try to remember for you part of an address to Sunday scholars, which my children heard just at the time when I was reading to them the story of John Britt. This address was given by an uncle of Ernest and Sharley, and they were both there. He spoke about how the eye of God looks us through and through, searching right down into our hearts, and seeing every bad thought there; and then he spoke of God's book, in which all about us is written down, and of God's hand, which writes all down in that book. He said that when he was a child, and thought of God's book, it made him tremble all over to remember what must be written there about _him_; and then, speaking very earnestly to the little scholars, he said, "Think of your name at the top of a page in that book, and then, one after another--none left out or forgotten--every naughty word you have spoken, every naughty thing your hands have ever done, all written on that page!" When he had spoken for some time in this way, Ernest's uncle George said that if any of the children to whom he was speaking really did think of this dreadful page, and did not try to hide away from God, but went straight to Him about it, and said, "O God, I am such a sinner!" that cry would be written down there too. And we must never forget that because of the work Jesus "finished" when on earth, it is righteous for God to blot out the whole black list of every one who "comes to the Father" by Jesus.