ear water. In the attic of this lone cabin Jake
Benton was regularly lulled to sleep by the evening lullabies of the
katydids as they sang in the tops of the postoak trees with which the
cabin was surrounded.

One August afternoon when Jake returned from his regular roundup of the
cattle, he found, seated on a log near the spring, two men. At the sight
of the men Jake's heart leaped into his mouth. For two months he had not
laid his eyes on a human form. He had heard no human voice save his own.
Needless to say, he was as much pleased as surprised to find companions
in his lonely abode. Jake neared the log where the men sat. One of them
arose and advanced toward him. "I trust," he remarked, "that you will
not think we are trespassing on your premises. We have been traveling
all day; our horses were tired and we were thirsty, and the spring
invited us to be refreshed." For a moment Jake stood speechless, and
then in almost forgotten terms he made his unexpected visitors feel
welcome.

The three men conversed for some time, and in the course of the
conversation Jake explained to them the reason for his lonely life and
the circumstances that caused him to be thus engaged. The strangers
explained that they were driving across the State, and that, in order to
make their journey fifty miles shorter, they had been instructed to take
this untraveled road through this expanse of wooded hills.

"I should think," remarked one of the men, "that this would be a
splendid place to meditate on the goodness of God. Loneliness often
begets meditation, and God loves to be the companion of the
companionless. Then, too, there is all this nature with which you are
surrounded. These flowers and trees and birds all speak of the goodness
of God. I was remarking to my fellow traveler of how these beautiful
scenes remind us of God's goodness. Pardon a frank question, but may I
ask, Are you saved?"

This was all new language to Jake and he scarcely knew how to answer
this rather blunt question. "Wu-wu-well, ye-yes," he answered. "I try to
be a Christian. I belong to the church and have belonged for
twenty-seven years and accordin' to the preachin' we have I think I'll
get to heaven. I s'pose you fellers must be preachers."

"Yes, we are preachers," remarked the other. "We have consecrated our
lives to the blessed service of Christ and our greatest delight is in
preaching his gospel and telling others of the wonders of his grace.
There can be