go, and fed the hungry people, feed us to-night. We are poor, we want
to be rich; take us for thy children; help us to come to thee just as
the people used to do when thou didst walk this very earth, and ask for
what we want. We need a friend just like Jesus for our own--a friend who
will love us always, who will take care of us always, who will give us
everything we need, and heaven by and by. We know none are too poor or
too bad for thee to take and wash in thy blood, and feed with thy love
which lasts forever. Give us faith to trust thee always, to work for
thee here, and to keep looking ahead to that home in heaven, which thou
hast got all ready for us when we die. Amen."

There were those present who did not quite see the connection of this
prayer with the topic of the evening. There were those who thought it
very commonplace and rather childish in language. But how can we tell
what strange, bewildering thoughts it raised in the heart of our poor
Tode?

Was there really such a somebody somewhere as that man talked about, who
would make people rich, or anyhow give them all they needed; who would
take care of them, no matter how poor or how bad; who would even take
care of them in that awful time when they had to die, and all this just
for the asking? If there were any truth in it why didn't folks ask, and
have it all? But then if there wasn't, what did these folks all mean?

"They don't look like fools; now that's a fact," said Tode,
meditatively, and was in great bewilderment.

The meeting closed. Mrs. Hastings rustled up to the minister.

"So sorry to have intruded upon you, Mr. Birge, but the gale was so
unusually severe. Dora and I were making our way to the carriage, which
was but a very short distance away, and just as we reached your door
there came a fearful gust of wind and we were obliged to desist."

While Mr. Birge was explaining that to come to prayer-meeting was not
considered an intrusion, Dora turned to Tode. Now Tode had in mind all
day a burning desire to tell Dora that he had made all the twenty-six
letters of the alphabet, just twenty-six times on twenty-six old
envelopes that he had gathered together from various waste-baskets, and
could "make every one of 'em to a dot." But instead of all this he said:

"Say, do you believe all this queer talk?"

"What do you mean, Tode?"

"Why this about the youngster, and his fishes and bread, and such lots
of folks eating 'em, and more left when the