18 MY MOTHER’S could utter a syllable. Robert screamed after him, to tell little Tim Johnson to come over, and that he should have all his pinks and marigolds. When we entered the cottage, there were bread, and meat, and milk, upon the table, which Susan, the farmer’s wife, had brought over for the children. I could not help sobbing aloud, for my heart was full. “ Dear George,” said I, turning to my husband, 11 you used to pray; let us thank God, for this great deliverance from evil.” “ Dear Jenny,” said he, “ I fear God will scarcely listen to my poor prayers, after all my offences; but I will try.” We closed the cottage door, and he prayed with so much humility of heart, and so much earnestness of feeling, that I felt almost sure'that God’s grace would be lighted up, in the bosom of this unhappy man, if sighs, and tears, and prayers, could win their way to heaven. He was very grave, and said little or nothing that night. The next morning, when I woke up, I was surprised, as the sun had not risen, to find that he had already gone down. At
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