"Well, may I respectfully inquire whom he did address in your hearing?"

"God Almighty."

"Ah! he took to praying, did he?"

"Not for my benefit, in the least. You see"-the lawyer crossed his right foot over his left knee, and began stroking his lower leg up and down, as if to help state his case concisely"you see, I found the little house easily enough, and knocked on the outer door, which stood ajar, but nobody heard me, so I stepped into the little hall, and saw through the crack of another door just as cozy a sitting room as there ever was.

"There, on a bed, with her silver head way up high on the pillows, was an old lady who looked for all the world just as my mother did the last time I ever saw her on earth. Well, I. was right on the point of knocking, when she said, as clearly as could be, 'come, father, now begin; I'm all ready'-and down on his knees by her side went an old, whitehaired man, still older than his wife, I should judge; and I couldn't have knocked then for the life of me. Well, he began; first he reminded God they were still his submissive children, mother and he, and no matter what he saw fit to bring upon them, they shouldn't rebel at his will; of course, 'twas going to be terrible hard for them to go out homeless in their old age, specially with poor mother so sick and helpless, but still they'd seen sadder things than even that would be. He reminded God in the next place how different it all might have been if only one of their boys had been spared them; then his voice kind of broke, and a thin, white hand stole from under the coverlet and moved softly over his snowy hair; then he went on to repeat that nothing could be so sharp again as the parting with those three sons—unless mother and he should be separated. But at last he fell to comforting himself with the fact that the dear Lord knew it was

through no fault of his own that mother and he were threatened with the loss of their dear little home, which meant beggary and the almshouse, a place they prayed to be delivered from entering if it could be consistent with God's will; and then he fell to quoting a multitude of promises concerning the safety of those who put their trust in the Lord; yes, I should say he begged hard; in fact, it was the most thrilling plea to which I ever listened; and at last he prayed for God's blessing on those who were about to demand justice"-the lawyer stroked his lower limb in silence for a moment or two, then continued, more slowly than ever:

"And-I-believe-I'd rather go to the poorhouse myself, tonight, than to stain my heart and hands with the blood of such a prosecution as that.”

"Little afraid to defeat the old man's prayer, eh?" queried the client.

"Bless your soul, man, you couldn't defeat it!" roared the lawyer. "It doesn't admit of defeat! I tell you he left it all subject to the will of God; but he left no doubt as to his wishes in the matter; claimed that we were told to make known our desires unto God; but of all the pleadings I ever heard, that beat all. You see, I was taught that kind of thing myself in childhood, and why I was sent to hear that prayer I'm sure I don't know; but I hand the case over.

my

"I wish," said the client, twisting uneasily, "you hadn't told me about the old fellow's prayer."

"Why so?"

"Well, because; I want the money confoundedly the place would bring, but I was taught the Bible all straight enough when I was a youngster, and I'd hate to run counter to such a harangue as that you tell me about. I wish you hadn't heard a word of it; and another time I wouldn't listen to petitions not intended for your ears."

The lawyer smiled.

"My dear fellow," he said, "you're wrong again; it was intended for my ears, and yours too, and God Almighty intended it. My old mother used to sing about God's moving in a mysterious way, I remember."

"Well, my mother used to sing it, too," as he twisted his claim papers in his fingers. the morning, if you like, and tell mother and been met.

said the claimant, "You can call in him the claim has

"In a mysterious way," added the lawyer smiling.

THERE is a very beautiful hymn appearing anonymously in the old "Psalmist," but having no place in many of the newer books:

There is a land mine eye hath seen
In visions of enraptured thought,
So bright that all which spreads between
Is with its radiant glory fraught.

A land upon whose blissful shore

There rests no shadow, falls no stain,
There those who meet shall part no more
And those long parted meet again.

Its skies are not like earthly skies,
With varying hues of shade and light.
It hath no need of suns to rise

To dissipate the gloom of night.

There sweeps no desolating wind
Across that calm, serene abode.
The wanderer there a home may find
Within the paradise of God.

It paints a picture of the land that no mortal hath seen, in modest and becoming language, yet its admirable diction presents a view of the future to which all mortals from Plato the wise to the rude Hottentot aspire. Casting back to our old school reader we find Pope translating the longings of:

Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind

Sees God in clouds and hears him in the wind.
His soul proud science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way.

Yet simple nature to his hope has given
Behind the cloud capp'd hills an humbler heaven;
Some safer world in depth of woods embraced,
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
To be, contents his natural desire,

Hs asks no angel's wing-no seraph's fire,
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,

His faithful dog shall bear him company.

The hymn is set to "Federal Street," a fine tune, but usually associated now with "Mear" and "China" and "Old Hundred," tunes which have largely given way to more sprightly music. I think had P. P. Bliss taken hold of "There is a land mine eye hath seen" he would have clothed it in such musical garments that its more general use would have been assured.

For practical, every day walk on earth, and commending itself to all ages and conditions in the various stages of our progress through life, the writer knows of no lines which more impressively come home to us than those of Fanny Crosby, that

queen of hymn writers, set to thrilling music by the famous Welsh singer, Philip Phillips:

Oh, what are you going to do, brother?
Say, what are you going to do?
You have thought of some useful labor,
But what is the end in view?

You are fresh from the home of your boyhood

And just in the bloom of youth;

Have you tasted the sparkling water

That flows from the fount of truth?

What a ringing cry this is to the youth to array themselves on the side of right!

Oh, what are you going to do, brother?
The morning of youth is past.
The vigor and strength of manhood,
My brother, are yours at last,
You are rising in worldly prospects
And prospered in worldly things;

A duty to those less favored

The smile of your fortune brings.

What a stirring appeal to the prospering young man!

Oh, what are you going to do, brother?

Your sun at its noon is high;

It shines in meridian splendor,

And rides through a cloudless sky.

You are holding a high position

Of honor and trust and fame,

Are you willing to give the glory

And praise to your Savior's name?