and mother. There is one
passage in the Bible I often think of, which directs us to both hope
and quietly wait for the salvation of God. Your father's mistake, when
he went into business, was, that he was in too great haste to
accomplish his own will. This is apt to be the error of the young.
They are sanguine of success, and they rush into the battle of life
without waiting to put on the armor of faith. What the young want in
setting out, Tom, is a Guide and a Helper, who cannot err, and will
not forsake them. An old man in our town used to say, 'Never try to
kick open the door of Providence.' I want you, Tom, to wait patiently
till Providence opens the door for you. Then you need not be afraid to
go forward."

CHAPTER VII.

A SABBATH ON THE PRAIRIE.

_Extracts from the Missionary's Diary._

Yesterday I preached my first sermon in a log cabin. When I awoke in
the early morning, and looked out of the little window at the head of
my bed in the rough, low-roofed attic, a new world seemed to break on
my sight. Instead of the narrow, noisy streets and tenanted blocks of
the populous eastern city, my eyes rested on one vast green field
stretching to the arching horizon, over which brooded a profound
silence, intensified by the sacred hush of the Sabbath.

My host offered his own cabin for the forenoon service. His son--a
sturdy young man of eighteen, inured to pioneer life--had ridden far
and wide to give notice of the meeting, and he was confident of a good
attendance. I anticipated the labors of the day with some misgivings,
for I had become slavishly accustomed to the use of written sermons;
but here, before a log-cabin audience, to speak from manuscript was
not to be thought of. For once, at least, I must trust to the grace of
Christ, and speak as the Spirit gave utterance. My study was a corner
of the loft, my library a pocket Bible.

"Where do all these people come from?" I ejaculated in pleased
surprise, as, for a full hour before the time appointed, men, women,
and children, afoot, in wagons and ox-teams, continued to arrive. And
through the cracks in the loosely-laid, unnailed floor, I could see
members of the family engaged in contriving sitting accommodations for
the growing congregation. Unplaned oaken boards, placed across trunks,
boxes, and huge blocks, soon filled the room, every seat being
occupied, while groups of men stood about the door outside, or sat
upon the embankment. I would have a "f