And Joe got down upon his knees at once and began to pray, and while he pleaded the promises, it seemed to him as if the little room became full of the presence of the Most High. All his hesitancy of speech vanished. It seemed to him as if he had got hold of the very hand of God, and he cried out, "I will not let Thee go until Thou bless me." Promise after promise crowded into his mind with more rapidity than he could utter them; until at length, overcome by his feelings, he cried out, "I canna doubt, I canna doubt no more!" then he hid his face in his hands, and there was silence throughout the room. When he rose from his knees his face fairly shone with joy, and the men looked wonderingly at him and at each other.

Just then there was a knock at the little kitchen door, and Joe's wife came in to say that she was waiting to bring in the tea.

"Right thee are, lass," said Joe. "I'd nearly forgotten the tea; bring it away as fast as thee likes."

And Mary Wrag and a neighbour's wife who had come in to help began to bring in large plates of cake and bread and butter, which the men greedily devoured. It was very evident that whatever they thought of the other part of the service, they enjoyed this part of it.

Joe was more pleased than he could tell at his experiment, and from that day every Sunday afternoon his house was thrown open to any of his neighbours who might like to come in, and hear the Bible read, and have a little conversation about spiritual things.

It was wonderful, now that the tongue of this silent man had been unloosed, how freely he could talk, and he never lacked a congregation. The neighbours flocked to hear him talk of Jesus and of His wondrous love, and in Joe's little kitchen many a weary and heavy-laden soul found peace and rest.

In a little Bethel near his home Joe found a place to worship God. He loved now to be in the house of prayer. It no longer gave him pain to talk of heaven and of the joys of the redeemed for he knew that heaven was open to him, and that in a little while he would find again the little angel that led him into the light, and look upon the Saviour whom he loved.

Chapter XVII - Perks Again

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I knew, I knew it could not last;
'T was bright, 't was heavenly, but 'tis past
Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour
I've seen my fondest hopes decay.
I never nursed a tree or flower,
But 't was the first to fade away;
I never nursed a dear gazelle
To glad me with its soft black eye,
But when it came to know me well.
And love me, it was sure to die.
—Moore.