While Benny in his prison-cell was dragging out the weary hours of that June Sabbath, Joe Wrag was engaged in an experiment that had occupied his thoughts for some considerable time. Since that never-to-be-forgotten day when he had kissed his little Nelly a last good bye, he had never doubted three things:—First, that the elect were "whosoever will;" second, that he had been accepted of the Father; and, third, that little Nelly Bates had been to him the "sent of God," to lead him out of the darkness of error into the light of truth.

The certainty that he was included in God's invitation of mercy was to him a new revelation. He felt as if he had suddenly grown young again, and, notwithstanding his grief for his little pet, he experienced a joy springing up in his heart the like of which he had never known before.

The words that have comforted so many sorrow-bruised hearts—"for we mourn not as those without hope, for them that sleep in Him"—seemed to him to have a new and deeper meaning. For he felt that not only was his little Nelly safe, but that he, too, was secure in the almighty love of God.

For several weeks Joe hardly knew at times whether he was in the body or out of it. Wrapped in contemplation, he would forget "all time and toil and care," and the long nights would slip away like a dream. He grew more silent than ever; but the look of melancholy was rapidly disappearing from his weatherbeaten face, and an expression of heart-rest and peace was taking its place.

But one morning, as Joe was walking home from his work, lost as usual in contemplation, a thought crossed his mind that fairly startled him, and for several moments he stood stock-still in the street.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" he groaned. "If I don't desarve to be reprobated, my name's not Joe Wrag."

Then he walked on again with rapid strides, as if he would escape the haunting thought. But the thought would not leave him; nay, it seemed to grow into a living voice, that sounded clear and distinct above the roar of the streets.