ew that their end would
be a drunkard's grave, and she went among these Christians and said,
"Won't you just cry to God for my two boys?" The next morning those two
boys had made an appointment to meet each other on the corner of Market
and Thirteenth streets--though not that they knew anything about our
meeting--and while one of them was there at the corner, waiting for his
brother to come, he followed the people who were flooding into the depot
building, and the spirit of the Lord met him, and he was wounded and
found his way to Christ. After his brother came he found the place too
crowded to enter, so he too went curiously into another meeting and
found Christ, and went home happy; and when he got home he told his
mother what the Lord had done for him, and the second son came with the
same tidings. I heard one of them get up afterwards to tell his
experience in the young converts' meeting, and he had no sooner told the
story than the other got up and said: "I am that brother, and there is
not a happier home in Philadelphia than we have got."

The Praying Mother.

I remember being in the camp and a man came to me and said, "Mr. Moody,
when the Mexican war began I wanted to enlist. My mother, seeing I was
resolved, said if I became a Christian I might go. She pleaded and
prayed that I might become a Christian, but I wouldn't. I said when the
war was over I would become a Christian, but not till then. All her
pleading was in vain, and at last, when I was going away, she took out a
watch and said: 'My son, your father left this to me when he died. Take
it, and I want you to remember that every day at 12 o'clock your mother
will be praying for you.' Then she gave me her Bible, and marked out
passages, and put a few different references in the fly-leaf. I took the
watch and the Bible just because my mother gave them. I never intended
to read the Bible. I went off to Mexico, and one day while on a long,
weary march, I took out my watch, and it was 12 o'clock. I had been gone
four months, but I remembered that my mother at that hour was praying
for me. Something prompted me to ask the officer to relieve me for a
little while, and I stepped behind a tree away out on those plains of
Mexico, and cried to the God of my mother to save me." My friends, God
saved him, and he went through the Mexican war, "and now," he said, "I
have enlisted again to see if I can do any good for my Master's cause."

The Sinner's Prayer He