came from the other. Dr. Rightinthemain stood up bravely, but he was not prepared for this change of weapons. His points were knocked off in long splinters, and his knots were broken, thereby greatly weakening both his defence and attack; until Dr. Philpotts, seeing his advantage, ran in with a blow which laid him at his length on the floor.

It was all wrong! but Dr. Philpott's people said it was all right; and the crowd dispersed, leaving Dr. Rightinthemain surrounded by his sympathizing friends, while Dr. Philpotts, greatly bruised and battered, was borne in triumph away from the arena. So ended the combat inside. But on the outside of the theatre there were as many as a hundred fights going on, to decide which beat. For a month afterwards, too, every day somebody was being battered and bruised, around and about the corners of the streets of Manhattan Oasis, to decide, if possible, who was the victor in this fight.

Now, when Frank had told his wife and Annie of all they had witnessed, Gertrude asked what such gladiatorial exhibitions of strength and skill were called.

6

"This is contending earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints,' was the reply of Frank.

a conflict of leaders for the right of leadership. The pilgrims are really no way advanced, whichever beats; but such things are, have been, and will be. I'm sorry, very sorry!

CHARACTER OF THE PILGRIMS.

353

CHAPTER LXV.

PILGRIMS ALONG THE DESERT.

OUR pilgrims had not long been upon the Desert before they became satisfied that merely crossing the Slough of Despond did not greatly change the character of pilgrims. The crafty, cunning, unscrupulous man of Bostonia, was here known as the prudent, sagacious man. The ruling passions were the same; but they were rebaptized. Few men were deemed more worthy of confidence than the miserly man; for penuriousness was here called prudence, and selfishness was styled caution.

Bostonia, Babylon, and Sterling, became a removed to the Desert.

Indeed, avarice in

virtue, by being

The motives for making a pilgrimage were multitudinous, and it was the commonest of all events to see those who began their journey with zeal soon change their minds, and return whence they came out. The inducing cause with many was loss of fortune, or loss of family; with others, it was from disappointment in love. These latter frequently met with those whose attentions, or attractions, filled up this great void in their hearts; and, instead of going on the pilgrimage, such travellers, with new alacrity, hastened forward to the next oasis, and, having exchanged their vows of mutual aid and affection, they returned to their former home and its social circles. Sometimes, also, missives from those whom caprice or jealousy, or other causes of sorrow, had alienated, on being received, induced a change of purpose; and when the friend or lover came out upon the desert, in search

of a young pilgrim for the purpose of reconciliation, this being accomplished, to go back with him was all but inevitable. The inheritance of property brought back multitudes who had made a great advance, and some who had been on the verge of the Jordan were recalled by bequests which ranked them among the fortunate and the rich of Bostonia and elsewhere. Indeed, there was nothing so certain to recall pilgrims as the unexpected possession of property in Babylon, or its vicinage; for it seemed so necessary that it should be looked after at once, and nobody could be found so trustworthy as themselves. Nor was there any lack of leaders of caravans, and office-bearers, who set pilgrims on the desert this very example, in their proper persons. To be sure, they all promised fair to return immediately, as soon as they had done what could only be done by them; but, instead of the desert they went off to Paris, and to St. Peter's Villa, and became dilettante in pictures and music; and, on their return to Babylon, found it safest to take the express trains, rather than to recommence a life-long, self-sacrificing pilgrimage. If they did make a start, it was but a retrograde movement upon the City of Sterling, where they ended their days.

It was common for pilgrims to rest at oases for days, weeks, months, and years. They had all the attractions of the cities they left behind; and, then, that enterprising gentleman, Count de Ville, had connected all these together by a network of expresses, which not only delivered letters and packages to every caravansary, but which took the returning pilgrims to the central railroad, or some one of its branches, for these extended all over

the desert, even to the verge of the Jordan.

We have said the desert was auriferous, and that over its

whole surface grains of gold were scattered. There were also mines discovered, which were worked to unknown depths; and some persons, indeed many, spent most of their lives delving under ground. The Lord of the Way had warned his followers of these temptations; but such warnings were little heeded. Pilgrims, tempted by the golden sand, would often suffer from

want of water and food. They would stoop down in the burning sun, and scratch and turn over the sands, hour by hour, and deem all the time well rewarded by the tiny grains they deposited in their treasury of gold,-filling both wallet and water-bottles. As soon as these were filled, they then sped on to the nearest oases, and there began to trade and speculate; nor did it matter in what, so it made them rich and prosperous. Success here, as everywhere, was the test of wisdom.

Our pilgrims met one of these pilgrims upon the desert; an old man, bowed down with age, scraping up and sifting out the sand with the energy of youth. Oliver ventured to ask him if the Lord of the Way had not warned him of the danger attending this incumbrance to a pilgrim's progress. The man did not look up, but said, "What, sir, is the unpardonable sin?" This was

an unexpected reply and inquiry.

Frank replied: "There are many different views of that fearful mystery. I confess, sir, that I do not know of any reply I can make, satisfactory even to my own mind."

"You may never have had any reason to know," said the old pilgrim, scratching the sand as he spoke; "but I know, sir; it is poverty! poverty!" Glancing his eye, full of energy and feeling, upon our party, he went on scratching again the desert for its dust of gold. Poor man! he seemed to have gained a good

deal of the ore; but, after all, these shining particles did not always stand the scrutiny at the office of assay, and wretched pilgrims found out too late that all this while they had been gathering nothing but shining dust. This illusion is common to all mining districts, and nothing but the refining-pot distinguishes the true ore from the false.

66

Such incidents as these, and many others like them, made our pilgrims ask each other, "Is there, indeed, a Celestial City?" Why shall we keep the desert path, when so many go back, telling us it is an illimitable waste?" But, when they studied their Guide-book, they were the better satisfied they were in the true path, from the many cautions it contained against these very seductions and trying temptations they met with in their own experience, and which were the causes of so frequent failures in others.

CHAPTER LXVI.

OF MIRAGES ON THE DESERT.

THEY had been on the desert some time before they became accustomed to its various phenomena. Among the most familiar of these was what was called "The Mirage," first seen by them when weary with the way and longing for rest. A splendid city appeared lying on the verge of the horizon. It stood in a lake which reflected the sun's rays like a mirror of silver. delighted with the prospect of a city so vast and so near.

All were

"What a glorious city! See that pile and its dome standing