



Produced by Chris Curnow, Griff Evans, Lindy Walsh and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









                                   THE
                               TORN BIBLE
                                   OR
                         _HUBERT'S BEST FRIEND_

                                   BY
                             ALICE SOMERTON
                      AUTHOR OF "LAYTON CROFT" ETC.


                                 LONDON
                         FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.
                              AND NEW YORK




                             TO GLANVILLE
                                  AND
                       HIS EIGHT SCHOOLFELLOWS.


Perhaps, dear boys, you wonder why I should have dedicated this little
book to you: it is that you may feel a deeper interest in it, and
imbibe, from reading it, an earnest love and reverence for your Bible,
which, like a good angel, can guide you safely through the world as
long as you live. Like Hubert's mother, I ask you to read a portion
every day; and, whatever be the battle of life you may have to fight,
may God's blessing attend you, making you humble towards Him, dutiful
to your parents, and a blessing to mankind.


                               Believe me,
                                     Yours affectionately,
                                               ALICE SOMERTON.




                            THE TORN BIBLE.




CHAPTER I.

HUBERT'S DEPARTURE FROM HOME.

                   May thy goodness
    Share with thy birthright! * * * *
    * * * What heaven more will
    That these may furnish and my prayers pluck down,
    Fall on thy head! Farewell.--SHAKESPEARE.


The rural and picturesque village of Hulney, in the north of England,
is a charming place; it is almost surrounded with well-wooded hills,
and the little rivulets, which ever murmur down their sides, run into
the limpid stream along the banks of which most of the cottages are
built.

At the north end of the village, on the <DW72> of a hill, is the church,
so thickly covered with ivy that the only portions of the stonework
visible are part of the ancient tower and the chancel window.

Legend and historic fact hang their mantle round this old church.
History tells us that the brave, yet often cruel, Margaret, wife of
Henry VI., fled there after a defeat in one of her battles; and it is
also recorded that one hundred of the heroes of Flodden Field rested
there on their return from the victory. Modern times have added to the
interest which clings to this old place, and one thing especially which
draws attention will form the subject of this story.

In that old churchyard, where the children of many generations lie side
by side, there is many a touching or interesting record; but the
stranger ever lingers the longest near seven white grave-stones, all
bearing the name of Goodwin. Upon the one which has the most recent
date is the following inscription:--"Sacred to the Memory of Hubert
Goodwin, aged seventy years;" and below this a book, partly destroyed,
with several of the loose leaves, is carved upon the stone: and though,
perhaps, this description of it may not be striking, the exquisite
carving of that destroyed book is such that people ask its meaning, and
they are told that it is a "torn Bible."

Hubert Goodwin, the tenant of that grave, was the eldest of six
children, blessed with pious and affectionate parents, well to do in
the world, and descended from a family of some distinction.

Great pains were bestowed upon Hubert's education, as he grew up to
youth; but from his birth he was of such a passionate turn, and at
times so ungovernable, that he was the source of all the sorrow that
for many years fell to the lot of his parents: he was different to their
other children, and many a time when reproof had been necessary, and the
little wayward one, after a troubled day, had retired to rest, his
mother's heart, still heavy, led her softly to the bed where he lay
sleeping, and there, kneeling down, she would commend him again, with
perhaps a deeper earnestness, to that One who knew all her trouble, and
whom she knew could alone help her. Once the boy awoke as his mother
knelt beside him, and, as though in answer to her prayer that his heart
might be changed, he burst into tears, and, throwing his arms round her
neck