"I was a poor student in a Manual Labor Institute at the West. The month
of February was our regular Winter vacation. We were privileged to keep
our rooms and have board at one dollar a week. But I had absolutely no
money. I was six hundred miles from my friends, and they were unable to
furnish me with funds. I had no books for the new term, though these
were a necessity if I went on with my class, and there was no work about
the Institution, nor that I know of in the neighborhood at that season.
My case seemed an exceedingly bad one; and I had no idea from where any
help could come. So I went to my room in the third story, locked my door
and carried my case to the Lord. It was a long, earnest, tearful cry for
help from Him who alone seemed able to give it. My prayer was answered.
When I had been there I do not know how long, I heard footsteps in the
empty hall, and in a moment a knock at my door. I wiped my eyes, and put
myself into presentable shape as soon as I could, and opened the door. A
lad stood there who said: 'A man wants to see you at the front door.'
Down the stairs I went, wondering who could want me and what he could
want me for. In the front yard was a man on a restless horse, who at
once said: 'We want you to teach our school for a month. The boys have
driven out the female teacher. We want you to take them in hand, and
we'll give you fifteen dollars and your board.' I said, 'All right, I'll
be down there to-morrow morning.' And then I went back to my room to
thank God for hearing my prayer."
"I CAN'T STOP TO PRAY."
"A deacon living in a Berkshire town was requested to give his prayers
in behalf of a poor man with a large family who had broken his leg. 'I
can't stop now to pray,' said the deacon (who was picking and barreling
his early apples for the city market), 'but you can go down into the
cellar and get some corned beef, salt pork, potatoes, and butter--that's
the best I can do.'"