not be very likely to improve it aright, for even now you are wasting this last fragment of time that remains to you in fruitless regrets; why not rather inquire earnestly, ’Is there still any hope for me?  What shall I do to be saved?  Lord, save me, or I perish.’” For some time her emotions choked her utterance, at length she seized both my hands so forcibly that it seemed as if she would sever them from my wrists, and exclaimed, “Oh, pray for me!”

Her condition was an awful one.  From the nature of her ailment she was a loathsome object.  Not one of her old companions would approach her, for to them she was now peculiarly an object of terror.  Her entreaties that I would not leave her in the power of such cruel wretches, to perish alone, and without hope, prevailed over my own reluctance and the remonstrances of my husband, and summoning up all my resolution, I remained with her, with but little respite, for three days and nights.

Her bodily sufferings continued to be extreme to the last, but were nothing in comparison to her mental agonies.  What a condition of mind and body was hers!  Every moment demanding something to cool her parched tongue, or to allay her fears, or to encourage her hopes.

Never shall I forget the last night of painful and protracted suffering.  The miserable woman who pretended to assist me in watching, had taken some stupefying potion, and I watched alone, as David expressed it, longing for the first ray of the morning.  At length, the day dawned, and I was relieved by good old Mr. Moore.  As he entered, I said to him, “Poor Juda is still living, and is a great sufferer; will you not pray for her?” He replied, “I come purpose pray with Juda.”  Then kneeling, prayed, “Oh Lord, Oh Lord God Almighty, we come to thee for this poor dying creature.  Have mercy on her precious soul—­Lord God, it will never die.  Forgive her sins; oh, Lord God, take the lead of her thoughts to-day, TO-DAY, TO-DAY; Lord God, take the lead of her thoughts to-day, for Christ’s sake.  Amen.”

This was indeed her dying day, and I could not but hope that this humble but pertinent prayer was prevalent with God.

Very many times since then, as I have caught the first glimpse of day, have I said, This may prove my dying day, and prayed, Oh Lord, take the lead of my thoughts to-day.

* * * * *

Original.

GOD IS FAITHFUL.

“The fruits of maternal influence, well directed,” said a good minister, “are peace, improvement, and often piety, in the nursery; but if the children of faithful mothers are not converted in early life, God is true to his promise and will remember his covenant, perhaps after those mothers sleep with the generations of their ancestors.”

“Several years since,” that same minister stated, “he was in the Alms-house in Philadelphia, and was attracted to the bedside of a sick man, whom he found to be a happy Christian, having embraced the Gospel after he was brought, a stranger in a strange land, to that infirmary.  Though religiously educated by a pious mother, he clandestinely left home at the age of ten years, and since that period—­he was now forty, or more—­had been wandering over the earth, regardless of the claims of God or the worth of his own soul.