d had promised to answer prayer. I dared not allow
the skeptical doubt, that came to my own mind, meet the ear of that
innocent boy, and told him, more as my mother had often told me than
with any thought of impressing a serious subject on his mind, "_That the
prayers of little boys, even, God would hear_." I left that night with
some simple directions, that were given more to satisfy the mother than
from having the slightest hope of eventual recovery, promising to return
next day.

In the morning, as I rode to the door, the little boy was playing round
with a bright and cheerful countenance, and looked so happy that
involuntarily I asked:

"Is your sister better?"

"Oh, no, Doctor," he replied, "but she is going to get well."

"How do you know," I asked.

"_Because I prayed to God_" said he, "and _he told me she would."_

"How did he tell you?"

The little fellow looked at me for an instant, and reverently placing
his hand on the region of his heart, said:

"_He told me in my heart_."

Going to the room where my patient was lying, I found no change
whatever, but in spite of my own convictions there had sprung up a hope
within me. The medical gentleman with whom I was in consultation came to
the room, and as he did, _a thought of a very simple remedy_ I had seen
used by an old negro woman, in a very dissimilar case, _occurred to my
mind._ It became so _persistently present_ that I mentioned it to my
brother practitioner. He looked surprised, but merely remarked. "It can
do no harm." I applied it. In two hours we both felt the case was out of
danger.

The second day after that, as we rode from the house, my friend asked me
how I came to think, of so simple a remedy.

"_I think it was that boy's prayer_," I replied.

"Why, Doctor! you are not so superstitious as to connect that boy's
prayers with his sister's recovery," said he.

"Yes, I do," I replied; "for the life of me I cannot help thinking his
prayers were more powerful than our remedies."

LIGHT GIVEN TO A BLIND CHILD.

"A missionary visiting one of the mission schools of Brooklyn, was
introduced to a remarkable child. He was brought into the school from
the highways and hedges, and young as he was, he had been taught of God.
One day he was playing with powder, and putting his mouth to the match
to blow it, it exploded, and the whole charge went into his face and
eyes. He became totally blind, and the physician gave but little hope of
recove