arts of all men, give me the
opportunity of saying something for Thee, and please help me use it, and
show me how to say the right word."

And so it was no wonder that God blessed him. It was no wonder that
wherever he went Christie not only found opportunities of doing good,
but was able to use those opportunities to the best advantage. It was no
wonder that when the people were ill they always sent for the young
Scripture-reader to read and pray with them. It was no wonder that the
little children loved him, or that the poor, tired mothers were glad to
sit down for a few minutes to hear him read words of comfort from the
Book of life. It was no wonder that all day long Christie found work to
do for the Master, and souls waiting to receive the Master's message. He
was generally very tired when he went home at night, but he did not mind
this. For he never forgot old Treffy's sorrow, a few days before he
died, because he had only a week left in which to show his love to his
Saviour. And Christie thanked God every day that He had given to him the
honor and privilege of working for Him.

Christie lodged in a quiet street not far from Ivy Court. He used to
live some way out of the town, for he liked to have a walk after his
day's work was done; but he found that the poor people often wanted him
for different things in the evening and at other times, and so he
removed nearer to them and nearer to his work. And very often they would
come to him with their troubles, and sit in his little room pouring out
their grief. The young men especially were very glad to come to
Christie's lodging to have a talk with him; and once a week Christie had
a little prayer-meeting there, to which many of them came. And they
found it a great help on their way to heaven.

When Christie opened the door of his lodging on the day of which I am
writing, he heard a sound which very much surprised him. It was the
sound of his old barrel-organ, and it was playing a few notes of "Home,
sweet Home." He wondered much who could be turning it, for he had
forbidden the landlady's children to touch it, except when he was
present to see that no harm came to it. He sometimes smiled to himself
at his care over the old organ. It reminded him of the days when he had
first played it, with old Treffy standing by him and looking over his
shoulder, saying in an anxious voice, "Turn her gently, Christie, boy;
turn her gently."

And now he was almost as careful of it