me
for him to go to bed. He went to the door undecided. He took a step,
stopped, and turned around, and hesitated for a minute, then ran to his
mother and threw his arms around her neck, and buried his face in her
bosom. "What is the matter?" she asked--she thought he was sick. Between
his sobs he told his mother how for five weeks he had wanted to be a
Christian; how he had stopped swearing; how he was trying to be obedient
to her, and how happy he would be if she would be a Christian, and then
went off to bed. She sat for a few minutes, but couldn't stand it, and
went up to his room. When she got to the door she heard him weeping and
praying, "Oh, God, convert my dear mother." She came down again, but
couldn't sleep that night. Next day she told the boy to go and ask Mr.
Moody to come over and see her. He called at my place of business--I was
in business then--and I went over as quick as I could. I found her
sitting in a rocking chair weeping. "Mr. Moody," she said, "I want to
become a Christian." "What has brought that change over you. I thought
you didn't believe in it?" Then she told me how her boy had come to her,
and how she hadn't slept any all night, and how her sin rose up before
her like a dark mountain. The next Sunday that boy came and led that
mother into the Sabbath-school, and she became a Christian worker.

Oh, little children, if you find Christ tell it to your fathers and
mothers. Throw your arms around their necks and lead them to Jesus.

A Father's Mistake.

There is a little story that has gone the round of the American press
that made a great impression upon me as a father. A father took his
little child out into the field one Sabbath, and, it being a hot day, he
lay down under a beautiful shady tree. The little child ran about
gathering wild flowers and little blades of grass, and coming to its
father and saying, "Pretty! pretty!" At last the father fell asleep, and
while he was sleeping the little child wandered away. When he awoke, his
first thought was, "Where is my child?" He looked all around, but he
could not see him. He shouted at the top of his voice, but all he heard
was the echo of his own voice. Running to a little hill, he looked
around and shouted again. No response! Then going to a precipice at some
distance, he looked down, and there, upon the rocks and briars, he saw
the mangled form of his loved child. He rushed to the spot, took up the
lifeless corpse, and hugged it to his