ecision of manner. "God can and does save to the uttermost
all who come unto him."

"Yes, all who come unto him. But men like Mr. Ridley seem to have lost
the power of going to God."

"Then is it not our duty to help them to go? A man with a broken leg
cannot walk to the home where love and care await him, but his Good
Samaritan neighbor who finds him by the way can help him thither. The
traveler benumbed with cold lies helpless in the road, and will perish
if some merciful hand does not lift him up and bear him to a place of
safety. Even so these unhappy men who, as you say, seem to have lost
the power of returning to God, can be lifted up, I am sure, and set
down, as it were, in his very presence, there to feel his saving,
comforting and renewing power."

"Perhaps so. Nothing is impossible," said Mrs. Sandford, with but
little assent in her voice. "But who is to lift them up and where will
you take them? Let us instance Mr. Ridley for the sake of illustration.
What will you do with him? How will you go about the work of rescue?
Tell me."

Mrs. Birtwell had nothing to propose. She only felt an intense yearning
to save this man, and in her yearning an undefined confidence had been
born. There must be away to save even the most wretched and abandoned
of human beings, if we could but find that way, and so she would not
give up her hope of Mr. Ridley--nay, her hope grew stronger every
moment; and to all the suggestions of Mrs. Sanford looking to help for
the daughter she supplemented something that included the father, and
so pressed her views that the other became half impatient and exclaimed:

"I will have nothing to do with the miserable wretch!"

Mrs. Birtwell went away with a heavy heart after leaving a small sum of
money for Mrs. Sandford to use as her judgment might dictate, saying
that she would call and see her again in a few days.

The Rev. Mr. Brantly Elliott was sitting in his pleasant study, engaged
in writing, when a servant opened the door and said:

"A gentleman wishes to see you, sir."

"What name?" asked the clergyman.

"He did not give me his name. I asked him, but he said it wasn't any
matter. I think he's been drinking, sir."

"Ask him to send his name," said Mr. Elliott, a slight shade of
displeasure settling over his pleasant face.

The servant came back with information that the visitor's name was
Ridley. At mention of this name the expression on Mr. Elliott's
countenance changed: