One day, when coming along, I observed Frank before me in the road, busy, as usual, breaking stones, and began to think what I would speak to him about, having no particular news to communicate.  While I was thus pondering, I came to his place, when, to my great astonishment, he was not there.  I looked around on all sides, and called, “Frank—­Frank!” but in vain—­no one answered.  There was no hedge or tree within sight for him to hide behind; where could he be?  All at once, I remembered that there was a small gravel-pit about twenty-five or thirty yards from the spot, but scarcely thought it possible he could be there.  I went towards it, however, still calling, “Frank—­Frank!” and yet received no answer.  On looking in, sure enough, there was my man, lying down in the pit, close up to the side, with his face to the ground.  I said, “Frank, is that you?  What are you doing there?  Are you ill?”

“No,” he replied, “I’m not.  What d’yer want with me?”

“Nothing in particular,” I said; “but to tell the truth, I was so surprised at your disappearance, that I could not pass on without looking for you.  I was so sure that I saw you in the distance, sitting in your place; and then, when I came up, you were not there.  I wondered whether I had seen your ghost instead of you, and whether you were dead or what.  Are you hiding away from me?”

Rising up, he said, “I had a terrible dream last night which frightened me very much.  A voice said, ‘Go and see Mr. Haslam about your soul.’  I said, ‘I will, I will, the first thing in the morning.’  When the morning came, I thought the evening would do; and when I saw you coming, it made me tremble so, that I got up and hid myself here.”

I said, “Frank, it is no use for you to fight against God, or to stand out against your wife’s prayers.  You had far better give in.”

He then told me that his dream referred to something in his past life, and sitting down on the bank or side of the gravel pit, he said, ’When I was ill with my leg (which was taken off), the doctor told me what I should die.  I then cried to the Lord to have mercy on me, and said that if He would raise me up, I would give my heart to Him.  I began to recover from that day, and kept on intending and intending to give my heart to God; but I never did it.  I got quite well in health, but ever since that time I have been getting worse and worse in mind.  When my wife was converted, it seemed as if the devil took possession of me altogether, and the Lord warned me again last night.”

“Come now,” I said, “you had better kneel down here and give up.”  It was a lonely road on a bare common.  “Kneel down,” I repeated, “and let us pray.”  He did so, and after prayer he said, “By God’s help.  I will give up.”

“No,” I replied, “that will not do.  Say, ’Lord, take my heart.  I do’—­not ‘I will’—­give up.’”

After a short pause, he solemnly said, “I do; Lord, take my heart!” and then began to cry.