“Do you believe in miracles?” asked the driver.

“Oh, yes,” said Percy, “in such miracles as the growth of the corn plant.”

“Why, that isn’t any miracle.  Everybody understands all about that.”

“Not everybody,” replied Percy.  “There is only One who understands it.  There is only one great miracle, and that is the miracle of life.  It is said that men adulterate coffee, even to the extent of making the bean or berry so nearly like the natural that it requires an expert to detect the fraud; but do you think an imitation seed would grow?”

“No, it wouldn’t grow,” said the driver.

“Not only that,” said Percy, “but we may have a natural and perfect grain of corn and it can never be made to grow by any or all of the knowledge and skill of men, if for a single instant the life principle has left the kernel, which may easily result by changing its temperature a few degrees above or below the usual range.  The spark of life returns to God who gave it, and man is as helpless to restore it as when he first walked the earth.

“What miracle do you find hard to accept?” asked Percy.

“How could Jesus know that Lazarus had died when he was on the other side of the mountain?”

“I don’t know,” Percy replied; “perhaps by some sort of wireless message which his soul could receive.  I don’t know how, but it was no greater miracle than it would have been then to have done what I did last week.”

The driver turned to look squarely at Percy as though in doubt of his sanity, but a kindly smile reassured him.

“Our train coming into Cincinnati ran in two sections,” Percy continued, “and the section behind us was wrecked, three travellers being killed and about fifteen others wounded.  I was sure my mother would hear of the wreck before I could reach her with a letter, and so I talked with her from Cincinnati over the long distance ’phone, with which we have always had connection since I first went away to college.  Yes, I talked with her, and, though separated by a distance three times the entire length of Palestine, I distinctly heard and recognized my mother’s voice.  Oh, yes, I believe in miracles; but that is a matter of small consequence.  The important thing is that we have faith in God and faith in Jesus Christ, his Son.”

“Well, that’s what troubles me,” said the driver.  “How’s one to get faith?”

“There are two methods of receiving faith,” replied Percy.  “Faith cometh by prayer.”  “Yes, Sir, I believe that.”  “And, faith cometh by hearing.”  “Hearing what?” “Hearing by the Word of God; hearing those who have studied His Word and who testify of Him; and hearing with an ear ready to receive the truth.”

CHAPTER XXVII

EIGHTEEN TO ONE

Two days later Percy was in Rhode Island visiting a farm owned by Samuel Robbins, one of the most progressive and successful farmers of that State.