fantiiij
THE °HIED'S PRAYER.
With eyes upraised appealing,
And eager, earnest air,
A little child was kneeling
Alone in holy prayer—
The sun was brightly shining,
The skies were clear and blue,
And while thick leaves were twining,
Gay flowers in plenty grew,
And many a child was straying
Along the fresh green sod,
But the boy was softly praying,
Alone—with only God.
He knew that Jesus never
Forgot His Sacred Word,
That by His ear forever
His children's prayers are heard
He knew the Lord could make him
His child on earth below,
And after death could take him
Where happy spirits go;
And. so he knelt all lonely
To ask the God above
To make him His child only -
And keep him in His love.
He said, "Dear Jesus, hear me:
I want to follow' thee—
To have Thy spirit near in z e,
And be as I should
I want Thy grace to hold me
In safety from all harms,
I want Thy love to fold me
Within Thy precious arms."
And Jesus saw him kueeling,
And heard his trustful prayer,
And answered his appealing,
And sent His spirit there.
And - so as years were lengthened
And changing seasons smiled, • • -
Christ in His goodness strengthened
And blessed this little child.
He made his life more holy,
And, as each day went by,
He kept him His child solely,
fitted for the sky—
And there_beyond all sadness,
Safe from all earthly harms,
He'll dwell, in joy and gladness,
A Lamb in Jesus' arms.
For always - arid forever -
In heaven our prayers are heard, •
Surely blessed Jesus never
Forgot His lasting
,Word.
Protestant Churchman
THE YOUNG GIPSIES.
" Mamma, what is the reason grandfather goes
to look at that little old grave-stone near the large
window of our' church every time he comes to see
us?" said. James Guthrie to his mother. "I saw
him do it when he was here last summer, and this
morning he went there again and. cleared away
with his stick the long grass that hid the in
scription on the little old gray stone. When
grandfather came back to the manse, I stole
down to see what was written on that large tomb
stone, but could only spell out these words, Hans
and Gretchen, sleeping in Jesus.' May I ask
grandfather abouti it.
You may, Jamie, when you see him at leisure;
that is the gipsies' grave. But grandfather is go._
ing with me for a drive now." And Mrs. G uthrie
stooped to give her son a parting kiss.
vv-v..z"..^rontr--
zled James, and who could explain them to him 7
Grandfather and mamma were out; papa indeed
was at home, but far too busy in his study to be
ready to answer questions about gipsies; for
James was the son of a minister in Scotland, as
we might have guessed by his living in the
manse—a name generally given in that country
t 9 the minister's house. This little boy had
never seen a gipsy, nor indeed heard much about.
these strange wanderers; but from what he
knew of them, he pictured to himself a tribe of
dark, wild-looking men and women, who lived in
tents, told fortunes and often were •not very
honest. To hear about such people must surely
be delightful.
At tea the subject was opened, and a promise
of the story obtained; so when the table was
cleared, grandfather drew his arm-chair near the
window, while James placed himself upon a foot
stool near to listen.
" It was just such another evening as this,
Jamie, a lovely autumn evening, many years
ago. I was reading in the study ; for you know
papa's study used to be mine. before they took
me away from the pleasant country to be a min
ister in a large town; and happening to raise my
oyes my attention was attracted by two strange
looking figures, that glided along the road—a
girl, whose form was partly hidden under a cloak,
and a boy who seemed somewhat older, and car
ried a small pack, like a tinker's, on his back.
There was something strange in their appearance
and movements. As twilight faded into night
I lost sight of the children, resolving, how
ever, to make every inquiry next morning about
the strangers. But next morning they were no
where to be found; and a pair of bantam fowls,
prime pets of the little people of the manse, were
missing also."
" That wicked girl with the red. cloakomust
have stolen them,' muttered James.
I believe she did, though not unaided by her
brother. This was only the beginning of many
thefts of which they were guilty ; but they always
showed such craft as not only to elude justice;
but often even to east suspicion on innocent per
sons. In fact., Hans and Gretchen ; the very
names I read on the gravestone to-day."
These were the, only names the gipsy brother
and sister ever gave each other. Twelve months
rolled on, and the decent people of the village
began to grow tired of having things stolen by
Hans even though he.could mend kettles and cups
so as to make them almost like new. The silly,
wicked persons who at first were glad to pay
Gretchen for telling their fortunes became weary
of her lies, and as willing as their honester
neighbors to get rid of the gipsies. But how
this was to be done was the question. No one
knew where the young gipsies had come from,
though it was generally supposed from their
names that they.were Germans. This suppoii
tion was true; for they afterwards confessed that
having quarreled with their " gluck," or tribe,
they fled to Hamburg, taking with them money
enough to pay their passage, first to London and
then to Scotland, where they hoped never to be
caught.
Where could a home be found for these- poor
strangers execift in a-prison P Their tastes were
wild, and their. habits dirty; their hand was
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1869.
against every man, and every man's hand against
them; indeed the only good point in their char
acters seemed to be a great affection for each
other. Various attempts were made both by my
self and others to coax the gipsy children to
sThcol ; but what were promises of teaching and
clothing to those who had never felt the want of
either ? It was quite another person than the
village schoolmaster or the clergyman who was
to be their teacher. Your dear grandmother had
a little niece, a child of eight years old, that
lived with us. Our gentle Jessie had quiet,
thoughtful ways beyond her years, and often of
a summer's evening she used to slip away from
the noisy game of her cousin to sit under the
shade of that spreading tree in the corner of the
garden, and read page after page of a large old
book."
"The Bible, I suppose," said Jamie holding
down -his head , a little., as if conscience told him
that his Bible wasnot read so.diligently.
Yes, my boy, it was the Bible : and strange
to say, our little pet used to read it aloud, even
when alone, as if. to understand it better. One
evening, Jessie stole away to' her favorite, seat
and began roading a very long story ; 'it was that
beautiful Ode, Jamie, about,,the death of our
Lord Jesus. She strained her eyes to finish it,
and then, closing the book, began to sing in a
very Soienin vbice
How street to"knOW, while here below,
The Saviour's love and story ;
And then through grace, to see, His face;
And'live with Him in glory.'
She hid scarcely ended, 'when a dark face peeped
over the wall'at heeside: Jessie gave a scream
of 'surprise:'‘ Hush, hush!' whispered the strange
visitor; ' I am Gretchen, and will do you
no harm. I heard all you were saying. Who
were you talking so much tor
" I ims not talking - to, any one, only reading
in the Bible how Jesus died for sinner's.'
"'Who was He ?' asked Gretchen ,
heard of Him.'
• "'Never heard of Jesus!' cried Jessie in a
tone of the deePest pity,- Oh poor Gretchen !
how can you live without Him?'
Tis poor enough living we get here certain
ly because everybody watches so sharp. But
what would Ha 'do for us?'
" Jesus is the Son of', (la; He made every
thing. except sin. He always lived above the
strY, - Gretchen, but, He pitied the people - that
lived on earth, because they were very wicked
and unhappy. You know sin is such a bad
thing, Gretchen, that God' must punish it ; but
Jesus came 'and died for "our Sins. Some of the
people - He came to save were not glad to see
Him : they hated Him and killed Him. ThUt
is what I was reading about.'
" ' Then He is dead,' cried Gretchen ; I
thought you said He was alive, and could do
everything for us.'
"' He is alive, up there, beyond the stars,' re
plied Jessie ; ' and if we believe on Him with
all our hearts, He will forgive our sins and teach
us to do what He bids us, and then we shall go
up to - see His - face, and live with Him in glory.'
" ' You were singing about that,' said Gretch
en. Tell me when you are going; perhaps
they would , let Hans•and me in too.'
We cannot go to . see Him until we re-
Tte3k - e; and taik tio Rim in prayer, a:nd grow
like Him even while we are here.'
" I do not ivant to die,' said Gretchen with a
shudder; but that's a 'good story; may I come
another evening and listen to it again ? I have
a a cry of my own too, but not like that mine is
all sad—sad ; you would not wish to hear it.'
" Poor Gretchen,' sighed Jessie, I will ask
aunt to let you come every evening to learn this
Bible. But see, there are lights in the parlor,
I must run home. Good night, Gretchen.'
" The gipay girl's strange visit was, as you
may fancy, the subject of a great deal of talk in
our little home circle ,that night. At first we
resolved that Gretchen should not be allowed to
come again; but Jessie "pleaded so earnestly for
the poor unhappy gipsy who knew nothing of
Jesus' love, that we yielded to her request. So
it was finally settled that Jessie might read aloud
in her favorite corner as usual, and that Gretch
en should be welcome to listen. We resolved,
however, to watch our dear little girl carefully,
lest in her efforts to do good she might get
harm.
" The long summer evenings shortened into
chill autumn ones ; still Jessie read - and Gretch
en listened, while her interest appeared to grow
deeper every day, as the Bible truths touched
her conscience and heart. There was one eye
watching her with-more than a father's tender
ness. It was the eye of God, and He was about"'
to show the untaught gipsy two great sights in
the looking-glass of His Word. I wonder has
Jamie seen them ?"
" What are they, grandfather ?"
" The sinner all black with sin—the Saviour
altogether lovely, who can. take sin away."
" Oue evening, ighen tht leaves. were fast
fading,
Jessie's garden seat'Was.einpty, Gretchen
waited in vain ; at length, tired ana disappointed,
she dropped on her knees and repeated a simple
pra,yer which Jessie had taught her. A week
passed: - still the gentle reader did not appear,
and Gretchen became every day more uneasy
and sad. But you will wish to know whether
she, liked the Bible stories because they were
new to her, or if she was really sorry for having
been so naughty, and wanted to try to be good.
Well, Gretchen said very little about what she
felt to any one except Hans, but every one in
the village wondered at the complete change in
her conduct, without knowing th,e cause. NO
mare complaints were made about lost chickens,
sad many missing articles were returned to
their owners ; •but though stealing and fortune
telling were alike given up, both brother and
sister contrived - to exist on the honest profit of
their tinkering. At first these efforts to do right
were very hard, but every step became easier;
and before winter had passed the astonished
villagers heard that Hans and Gretchen attended
a school every night, and saw them decently
dressed in church on Sundays. -
" Gretchen- soon learned to read with ease,
and so steady was her conduct now, that a good
old woman who was nearly blind offered her a
room in her cottage, in return for which she
only asked the gipsy girl to tidy up the little
place, and read a chapter for her morning and
evening in ber dear old Bible.
" Years passed, and the brother and sister
worked on together ; no longer a pest but a bles
sing to the neighborhood, until the fearful
cholera spread its black wings for the first time
over our land, when Hans and Gretchen were
among its earliest victims. They had given, by
a holy life, the best proof of a real change of
heart; and when the cold bodies of the,„poor
strangers were laid in the grave, we had a stone
erected to their memory, and were not afraid to
put on it the inscription you read this morning,
Hans and Gretchen sleeping in Jesus."
" But what became of Jessie! Did she die,
grandfather ?"
"No, my boy, she was long ill, but did not die.
Many pious children grew up to be good men
an d women . Go ask your mother if she knows
anything about her."
Jamie guessed the secret, and flung his arms
round his mother's neck. Her name was Jessie.
WASHINGTON'S HOME AND TOMB.
Mount Vernon, so called in honor of Ad
miral Vernon, - descended to General George
Washington, from his half-brother, Lawrence
Washington, whose remains lie in the family
vault within the sacred tomb.
Durink the occupancy of the General, the
estate contained at least one thousand acres,
with a shore line ten miles in extent. The
present Mount - .Vernon contains two hun
dred acres, costing $200,000—550,000 of
which was secured by Edward Everettoin
his, lecturing tour through the States. The
balance was given in individUal:subecrii
tions.
The boatlanding = not deserving the name
of wharf—is a rickety structure, scarce
eight by twelve ; -feet. In the days of the`
original proprietor, it was large enough to
be a commercial point. Much of the Rro
duce, tobacco, cotton and flour, of Mopnt
Vernon and the counties back of it, was
shipped and consigned here. Prior to the
first war, before the odious system , of taxa
tion, a large trade was carried on between
Virginia and Great Britain and the West
Indies. It yielded a handsome 'revenue' to
the General. • Scarce a single article leaves
the place now. •
Under proper tillage, the land could be
made productive. The soil here is rich, and
requires but little cultivation. But to do
this effectually, a gardener will not answer.
It should be practically farmed. There is
sufficient land in reserve, not touched, from
which a large revenue might be derived, do
ing away with the necessity of the offensive
tribute now exacted fromevery visitor to the
premises.
From the wharf, by a circuitous pathway
Of miserable construction, partially graded
and gravAlled, and in many places washed
away, we reach the tomb of Washington.
Alongside of the path is a ravine, dividing
the deer park. A. stream of water courses
its way down :the declivity, to the Potomac
below. In this shelter, the General kept
--hid td •
am eer Of "Washington is a brick arch
way, arched roof and enclosed with iron
gateways. Within are the sarcophagi, pre
sented by John Struthers, of Philadelphia,
1837. The remains were taken from the
old vault in the declivity, and re-interred.
The sarcophagus is a plain marble box,
the lid ornamented with a shield, surmounted
by an American eagle. It bears the simple
inscription—
"GEOßGE WASHINGTON."
"lie lived in deeds, not words."
'I never
Martha Washington lies by his side.
In front of the tomb are two granite
obelisks, and three on the eastern side, in
memory of deceased relatives of the Wash
ington family.
Passing through the grounds leading from
the resting-place of Washington, we enter
the association grounds. The most proini
nent object is the mansion... It can be seen,
on account of its elevation, for miles, as you
are coming down the river. The house has
been described—"as a house of the first
class, as then occupied by Virginia farmers,
two stories in height." It stands upon a'
most lovely spot, on the brow of a gentle
slope, which ends in a thickly wooded pre
cipitous bank. The summit is nearly 'one
hundred feet above the water. The build
ing faces East and West, with oval lawns
fronting -both entrances. The lawns are
covered in with trees, many of which were
set by the General-himself.
South of the gardener's .residence is the
garden and conservatory, the latter in
course of construction, to replace a smaller,
destroyed by fire in 1835. We were shown
the boxwood, of large growth, planted around
the garden-beds by Washington. It is be
ginning to show the ravages of-time. Every
figure, in the garden-plot,is as it was origin
ally laid out by the General. It shows de
cided engineering talent. -
Walking along the pathways,
the remin
iscences of the early days Washington
spent when free from the cares of state,
after his retirement, troop up to memory,
bringing the „past in the living present.-
Who could realize that in:1799, the origina
tor of so much bez,uty, and possessor of
so much that was good; had gone from the
scenes of his labors ? There is much here
to make you think him present. His home,
the associations of that day, are fresh and
vivid still!
We visitedthe main building. We . .
en
tered the parlor where he received men of
state, diplomatists and generals of that day.
Here Lafayetti, his much beloved com
panion-in-arms, communed and took coun
sel from the 'man whom he delighted to
honor..
The old'globe, disjointed and much worn,
remains among the relics. His military-desk
and pistol-holsters and surveying imple
ments are there: companions these were of
his early life and hardships. The mineral
candelabras, ancient lantern, and Washing
ton's silver inkstand have been taken away.
Many of the mementoes of the early days of
Washington have disappeared or been stolen.
A sad commentary on the vandalism of the
age!
We saw the Harpsichord of Nelly Custis,_
a present from the General, at a cost of
$l,OOO. The piano was not then used
in America. All instruments of fine quality
were imported from Europe. It is most
elegant of its kind. It is eight and a half
feet long and three and a half wide, in shape
of our grand action pianos of to-day. ; It
has two banks, with one hundred and
twenty keys, all enclosed in a mahogany
case. Miss Nelly excelled in music, and
added much to the entertainment of the
visitors under this hospitable mansion. The
instrument stands -in the parlor. It had
been in the possession of Mrs. Lee, of Ar
lington, but was presented by her to the as
sociation, and is now one of the most striking
objects seen here.
Leaving the parlor, we enter the drawing
room. Over the door hangs the key of the
Bastile, presented to his' friend by General
:Lafayette, through Thomas Paine: ."A draw
ing.of the Bastile accompanied the key.
The, dining-room, in course of repdration
(the painters and plasterers have littered up
the room), is decidedly the handsOmest
room in the building. It was added to the
mansion by General Washington. We no
ticed the ceilings; especially the stucco work,
a rare curiosity. The designs are agricul
tural. Rakes, sickles, and vier) , farming
implement had, a place or niche, and while
the whole were beautifully. blended, ':the
citizen and farmer was lost in the soldier,
in the warlike relics lying ,promiscuously.
around.
In this room are the mantels,
richly ornaL
mented, and so much admired. They are
familiar to our readers, in the drawings ex
hibiting them in detail. They represent .a
farm and domestic scene. The Fold fire
place and sculptuary are well worthy of in
spection. '
From this room, we ascended the main
hall stairway and entered the chamber in
which the great patriot breathed his last.
With what emotions we approached this
interesting place. No bedstead remains ;
nothing to commemorate that last scene I
All is emptiness !
We recall that sad event. Washington
suffered from an acute attack of Laryngitis.
About 10 o'clock, P. M. (after the second
day, - when it had assumed a dangerous type),
he attempted to speak, but failed several
times. At length he murmured, " I am
just going. Have me, decently buried ; and
Act Dot let_ res_b_ody be Put,,lnto the vault
untir three days after lam dead. Wash
ington continued: "Do you understand ?•
dear nephew." "Yes." "'Tis well." And
these were his last words—" 'Tis well:
On the 14th of December, 1799, death
closed the scene. " About ten minutes be
fore he expired," continues the narrator,
" his breathing became easier.- He lay
quietly; he withdrew his hand from mine,
and felt his own pulse. I saw his counten
ance ehange. I spoke to Dr. Craik, who
sat by the fire. He came, by the bedside.
The General's hand fell from his wrist. I
took it in mine, and pressed it in my bo
som.. Dr. Craik put his hands over his eyes,
and he expired without a struggle."
How the femembrance of that sad event
came across our vision ! We could picture'
to ourselves that solemn family gathering,
and see his beloved spouse, as she bowed in
resignatfen over her departed one, saying:
" 'Tis well, 'Tis well !" We were standing
in the very room of the good man's strug
gles, from which his blessed spirit winged its
flight ! How sacred that chamber of death !
Coming years will indelibly imprint these
scenes. The works of the good follow them !
We left that vacant room, our boson": swell
ing with strange emotions.
There had been a Christian warfare and
a Christian triumph and victory !
New scenes have opened to the patriot:—
" He has crossed the river
And we are passing over."
Such are some of the incidents connected
with Mount Vernon. We would have lin
gered long—its associations are hallowing—
but we had to leave. No one can visit this
ground without going away more in love
with the man resting them' -•
The din din of civil strife has ended, and all
is peace. Here, thought we, let the new bond
be cemented. Let a nation's brotherhood
receive a permanent unity and* fraternity
over thßpmb of him whose last counsel to
all was : us be brethren !"
Farewell, Mount Vernon ! May others
take with them the lessons we have learned
in your shady retreats !-:Reformed Church,
Messenger.
-Combe related an anecdote of Sergeant Davy.
The Sergeant was no lawyer, but an excellent
nisi prius advocate, having great shrewdness
and promptitude. On one occasion Lord Mans
field said he should sit on GoOd'Friaay, there
being a great press of business. It was said no
barrister would attend; and in fact no one did';
but the Chief Justice tried the causes with the
attorneys alone. When the proposal was made
to the bar, Sergeant Davy said to Lord Mansfield,
"There has been no precedent since the time of
Pontius Pilate."—Crabb Robinson.
No hypocrite can escipe. Jistice willgehold
he balance in an even hand.
BUDGET Or ANECDOTES,
—Goethe preferred to all the other so r - ct ,„
poems of Byron the "Heaven and
though it seemed almost satire when he ex.
claimed, "A bishop might have written i t :,
He added : " Byron should have lived t t ,
cute his vocation." " And that was ?" I as k ed.
"To dramatize the Old Testament. wh at a
subject under hie hands would the Tower o f
Babel have been l" He continued, " You must
not take it ill; but Byron was indebted for th e
profound views he took of the Bible to the enn u i
.he suffered from it at school." Goethe. it will
be remembered, in one of his ironical epi,T rams,
derives his pontTy from ennui (Langeweile ; )1,
greets her as the Mother of the Muses. It ry as
with reference" to the "poems of the Old Test a .
ment that Goethe praised the Views which Byron
took of Nature ; they were equally profound and
poetical. "He had not," Goethe said, " like m e
devoted a
,Irrig life to the study of Nature, and
yet 'in all his works I found but two or three p as .
sages I could have Wished to alter."—Crabb
. -
Robinson,:
---Evanson, in his " Dissonance of the Gos.
pels," think Luke
,most worthy of credence.
P— said; that Evanson was a lukewarm Chri s .
tiers. I relafed this. to,O. Lamb. But, to him,
a mere play of words :was nothing without a
spice' of thg ridiculous. He was reading with a
friend a book of Eastern travels, and the friend
observed - Or the Afautschu :Tartars, that they
must be cannibals, This Lamb thought better.
The large room in the , accountant's office at the
East India Housn is divided into boxes or elm
partmentS- in each of which sits six clerks.
Charles Lamb himself being one. They are
called compounds.. :The meaning of the word
was asked one day, and Lamb said it was t , a
collection, of simples." Punsters being abused,
and the old joke repeated that "he who puns
will lAA' a pocket`;"'some one said, " Pun.
sters themselves have no pockets." " No , " s a id
Lamb - ; " they carry only a ridicule."—lbid.
—Anthony Robinson relates an anecdote of
Horne Tooke, . showing. the good humor and com
posure of wh ich he was capable. Holcroft was
with him at a third person's table. They had a
violent quaint At length lioleroft said, as he
rose to leave -the tom, " Mr. Tooke, I tell you,
you are a scoundrel, and I always thought
you so." Tooke detained him and said, "Mr.
Holcroft, some time ago you asked me to come
and dine with'You ; do tell me what day it shall
be." Holcroft stayed.=/bid.
—Lamb bad written to Coleridge about one
of their old Christ's Hospital masters, who had
been a severe disciplinarian, intimating that he
hoped Coleridge had forgiven all injuries. Cole
ridge replied that he certainly had ; he hoped
his soul was in heaven, and that when he went
there he was borne by a 'host of cherubs, all face
and wing, and without anything...to excite his
whipping propensities.—/bid.
[FROM THE BIOGRAPHY OF REV. WILLIAII
HARSH, D.D.I
—" • Mr. Cecil," he said, " was most happy in
the art of illustration." Wishing to impress upon
our minds the importance of ever making promi
nent in our preaching Christ and his atonement,
he told us an anecdote of his former life. He
had been a great sufferer for years, and none of
hii medical friends had been able to ascertain
the cause. At length Mrs. Cecil was told of a
physician, who was extremely skilful in intricate
cases, and whom she entreated him to consult.
On entering the physician's room, he said,
" Welcome. Mr. Cecil, I know you well by char
acter, and as a preacher. We must have some
conversation after I have given you my advice."
Mr. Cecil then described his sufferings. The
physician considered' for a moment, and then
said, " Dear sir, there is only one remedy in such
a case as yours; do just try it; it is perfectly
simple," and' then he mentioned the medicine.
Mr. Cecil fefiring to occupy too much of his
time, rose to leave, but the physician said, "No,
sir, we must not part so soon, for I have long
wished for an opportunity of conversing with
you ;" so they spent half an hour more, mutu
ally delighted with each other's society.
" On retufning .home," added Mr. Cecil, "I
said to. my wife, " You sent me to a most agree
able man, such a fund of anecdote, such origi,
nality of thought, such a command of language.'
' Well, but what :did he. prescribe for you?'
Mrs. Cecil anxiously inquired. There was a
pause, and then Mr. Cecil exclaimed, I have
entirely forgotten the remedy; his charms of
manner and conversation put everything else out
of my mind.'
" Now young men !" said Mr. Cecil, " it will
be very Pleasant.for you if your congregation go
away' saying, ' What eloquence! what original
thought ! and - what an agreeable delivery!'
TAKE CARE THEY DO NOT FORGET THE REMEDY,
the only remedy, Christ and His righteousness,
Christ and His atonement, Christ and His advo
cacy:"
—A lawyer who was the leader of an infidel
club in the town was met one evening by an ac
quaintance at the turn of the street which led to
St. Petei's church. The lawyer was only walk
ing for his amusement, but his friend rallied him
with the words, " What, are you turning Metho
dist ? goinc , to the eveningjecture of St. Pe
ter's ?" The spirit of opposition was roused,
" Why not if I choose ?" he replied, and turned
down the pathway. Seeing him enter the
church, just before the service commenced, my
father, who was sitting by my mother's side,
called her attention to the unexpected arrival, and
told her that the subject of his sermon was one
against which the unbeliever had especially lev
elled his attacks. " Shall I change it r' he
whispered. After lifting up lier heart in silent
prayer, she answered; " No, let it be the one you
intended, I believe God has a message in it for
him." The next day the lawyer came to my
father, to tell hioLthat his sermon had such an
effect in remoVincr his difficulties as to the inspi
ration of Scripare, that he desired further in
struction. in the Word of God; and after this he
frequently came for reading and prayer. This
resulted, Udder the blessing of God, in his com
plete. conversion. From this time he earnestly
endeavored to spread the knowledge' of the truth
as it is in Jesus. His younger children, whom
he nof . trainect in the Christian faith, early re
ceived Christ into their hearts,- and surrendered
theMselves to His service. Two of them became
diiioted-missio'naries in connexion with the
Church Missionary Society. '