his breast that he should some day see the Lord. He had had more than
his allotted share of troubles in life, and deep in his heart he had a
longing to go where "the wicked cease from troubling and the weary be at
rest."

Soon all was silence in the cabin attic, where the three men lay. The
restless surgings of man's inner soul are invisible to all eyes, save
God's, and silence is not always a proof that everyone is asleep. Jake
lay on a bag of dried leaves, having given his own bunk to his guests.
But his eyes refused to sleep. The music of the katydids had lost its
power to soothe his troubled breast and bring him sweet repose. His mind
took a voyage over the past. Memory, according to her wonted ways
carried him again to his mother's knee. He recalled the sound of her
voice as she sang, "When I shall see Him face to face and tell the story
saved by grace." But that scripture, "Without holiness no man shall see
the Lord," took the sweetness out of that long-remembered song. Jake
knew he was not holy. His heart was defiled by sin. His lips were
unclean with blaspheming God's name. He remembered all the good
resolutions he had made and broken the past quarter of a century. And
during these midnight musings he seemed to see two lily-white hands
beckoning him to come somewhere; he knew not where. These hands he
readily recognized as the hands of his own baby Rose, who had gone from
him one day near the close of her fifth summer. Mentally he found
himself again at the bedside of his darling Rose. He saw again her ruddy
cheeks glow with fever and heard the tremble of her voice as she said,
"Daddy's Rose is going to heaven. Daddy come some day." Again he saw the
death-glare in the sky-blue eyes when the little soul flitted away. He
saw himself again as he sat and looked into the sweet and lifeless face
of his darling girl, and he remembered how he resolved on that day to
live in such a way as to be reunited with his child. But his resolves
had all been unfilled, and he saw the path of his past strewn with
broken vows. In reality, God was speaking to the man's soul. Jake saw
himself in his true condition, a lost sinner. His sins seemed like
horrid black mountains rearing themselves eternally between him and his
child. His profession of religion and his church-membership seemed to
mock him rather than to comfort him.

But Jake was silent. He said not a word with his lips; but how his
bleeding heart did talk to God. Hot tear