that for a model, I wrote according to
promise, adapting and altering sentences to meet the present case. I
sent the note, with a message that I would call in the morning. I did
so, but found my friend was not at home. The landlady said, "Mr. F---
went out last night soon after he received a letter, and has not been
home since." She became alarmed when she heard that we had not seen him.
We too were taken by surprise, and did not know which way to go in
search of him, or what to do. Presently we met the clerk of the church,
who inquired if we had seen anything of Mr. F--; he had called the night
before for the keys of the church, and had not returned them; so he (the
clerk) could not get into the church to ring the bell or admit the
congregation.

This threw some light on the matter; so we went immediately to the
church, and with the vicar's keys entered by the vestry door. Looking
about in all directions, we found our friend on his knees in the nave,
where he had been all night. I went up to him; and, as he did not speak,
I asked if I might pray with him.

He said, "Yes."

"What shall I pray for?"

"I don't know."

"Shall I ask the Lord to come down from heaven again and die on the
cross for you?"

"No."

"Do you believe that He has done that?'

"Yes, I do."

"You do believe that He has died for you-for you?" I inquired, laying
the emphasis on you--"for you, as if you were the only person for whom
He died?"

"Yes; I believe He died for me."

"Do you thank Him for it?"

"No, I do not; I do not feel anything."

"That may be; but do you not think you ought to thank Him for what He
did for you?" He did not reply.

"How can you feel anything till you have it? Or how can He give you any
feelings till you thank Him for what He has already done for you? Make
some acknowledgment."

"Thank you," he replied; and without another word he rose from his knees
and went away. The bell was rung, the people assembled, and we had the
service; but he did not remain.

Again he disappeared for the whole day, until the evening, when he came
into the vestry, and said, "Will you let me read prayers this evening?"
To this the vicar gladly assented; so he put on the surplice for the
first time after several months, and went into church with us.

The fact of his reading prayers again, and more especially the manner in
which he did it, attracted attention. The earnest tone and meaning he
threw into the words of the prayers