he always regarded me during the sermon. I found
him at home, and, on entering his house, he said, at once, "I know what
you are come for. Wait a little, sir, please to sit down;" and before I
had time to say a word, he went upstairs. In a few minutes he returned,
with a shilling in his hand. "There," he said, "there it is; that is my
contribution for the Indian Mutiny Fund."

I thanked him for his offering, and promised that it should be given to
the treasurer. "But," I added, "to tell the truth, I have not come about
that, but to see you. I want to speak to you about your soul."

He sat down, looking, as I thought, most unhappy. Then he said,--"Last
night my mate and I made up our minds to speak to you in the vestry;
but, just as we were coming to the door, you opened it, and we ran
away."

"Yes," I said, "I heard you."

"Well, after that, we came home, and prayed the Lord to send you to us:
and here you are!"

"Thank God for the answer to prayer. Now then, what can I do for you?"

He told me that he was born of respectable parents in Germany; but that,
for his bad ways and bad habits, they had sent him to this country to
work for his bread; that he had taken the pledge several times, and
broken it again and again, though he had prayed and done all he could
think of; but it was to no propose.

"If you had stayed last night," I said, "I might have helped you. How
did you come to break your pledge?"

"Oh," he said, "it came to my mind that when I signed, I was only
thinking of beer and spirits, not wine; so I took some, and it flew to
my head; and soon I was as bad as ever."

"Now," I said, "you have renounced wine and all; have you?"

"Yes, I have."

"Well then, will you give your heart to God also?"

In course of conversation it came out, that this man's first impressions
were effected some years before, by a dream, or vision of Christ on the
cross. He was passing by, but, somehow, turned to look at it; when, to
his surprise, he saw that the eyes of the figure were looking at him. As
he approached, the figure appeared to be standing on the ground, and
beckoning, when a sudden fear came over him; he stopped, and the vision
faded away. Ever since that time, he had felt that Jesus was the Friend
he needed; and that nothing less would satisfy him.

Unfortunately, too many, like this man, stop at a critical point of
their history; and, often, the crisis is not prolonged for them, as it
was for him.

A lo