o short a letter from the Lord, with some
expressions of favour, I should be consumed with joy; and here I have
not only one, but so many, and never took it in before."

"My heart standeth in awe of thy word," repeated Mrs. Lewis; then,
turning to one who sat near her, said, "We want a word from you, Mrs.
Barnes." Mrs. Barnes had slipped into the most obscure seat in the
room, almost behind Mrs. Lewis' chair. She was one of Mrs. Lewis'
most intimate friends, and herein was another proof of "queerness" in
the eyes of some of Mrs. Lewis' neighbours, "because she made so much
of that Mrs. Barnes." No one had ever thought of calling such a
dignified, intelligent-looking woman a "washer-woman," and yet she
did take some of her neighbours' clothes to her home and wash and
iron them--why not? since she was strong and they were not, and she
wanted money and they wanted clean clothes. However it was, these two
women saw eye to eye. It was no uncommon thing when Mrs. Barnes'
snowy wash was flapping in the wind, and she had slipped on her clean
gingham, and stepped over to Mrs. Lewis' a minute, to have the minute
lengthen to an hour or more, they had so much in common to talk
about. Their absent Lord--His work, and how to further it, were
themes they did not weary of.

So Mrs. Barnes put on her glasses and opened her old Bible and read,
"As new born babes, desire the sincere milk of the Word, that ye may
grow thereby."

"I find here," she said, "that the Bible is to be our food, and that
it is intended to make us grow. Now one can't grow without the right
kind of food. The verse makes me think of my dear little grandson
Neddie. His mother was taken away, and he was left a wee baby for us
to bring up. We had such a hard time to find anything to agree with
him. We tried milk and water, and arrowroot, and cracker-water, but
he didn't thrive, he was nothing but skin and bone; finally he got
sick and we called the doctor, and he said, 'Why this child is
starving to death! What do you feed him? Don't give him any more such
stuff,' he said. 'Try another cow, and give him pure milk.' So we got
a new milch cow and fed him fresh milk, and I can't begin to tell you
what a wonderful change it made in that child in less than three
weeks' time; the dear little fellow got just as plump, his hands were
like cushions, and he was well and happy as a robin. Maybe that's the
reason there are so many weakly Christians. I shouldn't wonder if
souls