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you could not have greater proof of it, could you? You set a horribly bad example; you do nothing but drink, and smoke, and swear. You have asked God to damn your soul over and over again, and yet here you are still. Why is this?"

He did not answer, but seemed interested; so I went on to speak of the forbearance of God towards him. I said, "Billy, do you know that I think the Lord wants to have mercy on you? He wants to save you!" As he listened, I went on to tell him that God loved him, and gave His Son to die for him. Then I proceeded to speak of the wonderful patience and long-suffering of God—a kind of crown upon His love; and what a shame it was to sin against such love as this.

Poor Billy looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, "You are a dear man!"

"Dear man!" I answered. "What, then, is God, if I am dear' only for telling you of His love? Ah, Billy, take and give your heart to God at once. He is waiting for you. It is a shame to refuse such a God."

I knelt down and began to pray for him. He soon fell on his knees too, and sobbed aloud; then he commenced to pray in his own way. He needed much teaching, so when he rose from his knees I said to him, "Now, Billy, I have been to see you; it is your turn to come and see me next. When will you come?"

"This afternoon,” he said.

"Very good; come this afternoon." And he did. More than that, this poor "lost soul" found peace in my study, to his great joy; and he was not ashamed to acknowledge it openly, nor afraid to praise God for His great goodness.

The same evening he stood up in the schoolroom meeting, and told the people what the Lord had done for

THE "LOST SOUL" SAVED.

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his soul. There was great excitement that night, and well there might be, for every one knew what a daring and wicked man he had been. One man said that “if a corpse had come out of the churchyard and spoken, he could not have been more frightened" (more surprised, he meant).

Old Billy's conversion gave a new and fresh impetus to the work, and many more souls were added to the Lord.

This dear man lived for three months after this, verifying the words I was led to say to him at the beginning of our intercourse-that the Lord was keeping him alive in order to have mercy upon him. At the end of this time, his daughter came to me one morning in great haste, and said, "Father is dying, and does so want to see you. Will you come?" I went immediately. On reaching his house and entering his bedroom, his wife said, "You are too late; he is dead!" Softly I moved forward to the bed, and looking on that face once more, I thought that I could still see signs of life. Pressing his cold hand, I spoke a few words about the loving-kindness of the Lord. He knew me, and a smile brightened his face at the precious name of Jesus. While we stood silently round his dying bed, he said (evidently in reference to what he had heard), "Not dead: just beginning to live." Thus, with a sweet. triumphant smile, he departed.

CHAPTER XIII.

Cottage Meetings.

1852.

UR steps were now directed to another part of the parish, where we commenced a series of cottage meetings in alternation with services in the church. These meetings were inaugurated in a very remarkable manner, in the house of a man named "Frank," who was well-known as an exceedingly wicked and careless fellow. His wife was among the fruits of the revival, and prayed much for him; but the more she did so, the worse he became. I used to try and comfort her with the thought that if he did not give himself to God to be made better, it was well that he got worse, for it was a proof that her prayers were telling; total indifference would have been a far more discouraging sign.

This was poor comfort to her, however, for he came home night after night drunk; or if not so, swearing about the revival in the church, and her praying. He often. declared that if he ever caught me in his house, he would "give me something for myself." He was at all times a very irascible man, and being troubled with a wooden leg, it made him worse. As he was unable to work in the mine,

THE STONE-BREAKER.

he was dependent for his support on the parish authorities, who employed him to break stones on the road.

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Notwithstanding his bad temper and ill-feeling towards me, I always stopped at his heap of stones when passing, and talked to him either about the weather or some other trivial subject, being quite satisfied that he knew the plan of salvation, as I had spoken to him about his soul at the time of his wife's conversion.

One day, when coming along, I observed Frank before me in the road, busy, as usual, breaking stones, and began to think what I would speak to him about, having no particular news to communicate. While I was thus pondering, I came to his place, when, to my great astonishment, he was not there. I looked around on all sides, and called, "Frank-Frank!" but in vain-no one answered. There was no hedge or tree within sight for him to hide behind; where could he be? All at once, I remembered that there was a small gravel-pit about twenty-five or thirty yards from the spot, but scarcely thought it possible he could be there. I went towards it, however, still calling, "Frank--Frank! Я and yet received no answer. On looking in, sure enough, there was my man, lying down in the pit, close up to the side, with his face to the ground. I said, " Frank, is that you? What are you doing there? Are you ill?” "No," he replied, "I'm not. me?"

What d'yer want with

"Nothing in particular," I said; "but, to tell the truth, I was so surprised at your disappearance, that I could not pass on without looking for you. I was so sure that I saw you in the distance, sitting in your place; and then, when I came up, you were not there. I wondered whether I had seen your ghost instead of you, and whether you were dead, or what. Are you hiding away from me?”

Rising up, he said, "I had a terrible dream last night,

which frightened me very much. A voice said, 'Go and see Mr. Haslam about your soul.' I said, 'I will, I will, the first thing in the morning.' When the morning came, I thought the evening would do; and when I saw you coming, it made me tremble so, that I got up and hid myself here."

I said, "Frank, it is no use for you to fight against God, or stand out against your wife's prayers. You had far better give in."

He then told me that his dream referred to something in his past life, and sitting down on the bank or side of the gravel-pit, he said, "When I was ill with my leg (which was taken off), the doctor told me that I should die. I then cried to the Lord to have mercy on me, and said that if He would raise me up, I would give my heart to Him. I began to recover from that day, and kept on intending and intending to give my heart to God; but I never did it. I got quite well in health, but ever since that time I have been getting worse and worse in mind. When my wife was converted, it seemed as if the devil took possession of me altogether, and the Lord warned me again last night."

"Come now," I said, "you had better kneel down here and give up." It was a lonely road on a bare common. "Kneel down," I repeated, "and let us pray." He did so, and after prayer he said, "By God's help, I will give up."

"No," I replied, "that will not do. Say, 'Lord, take my heart. I do'—not 'I will'—' give up.'"

After a short pause, he solemnly said, "I do; Lord, take my heart!" and then began to cry.

I

gave him the text, "God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John iii. 16). "Think over that," I said, "and come to the schoolroom to-night." He did so, and was saved, to the

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