djoining
room. I listened. At first I thought it was the mining boss, but I soon
discovered I was mistaken. Listening again I came to the conclusion
that the convict who was working in the next room was becoming insane, a
frequent occurrence in the mines. Many of the poor convicts being unable
to stand the strain of years and the physical toil, languish and die in
the insane ward. To satisfy my curiosity, I took my mining lamp from my
cap, placed it on the ground, covered it up as best I could with some
pieces of slate, and then crawled up in the darkness near where he
was. I never saw such a sight as was now presented to me. This
broad-shouldered convict on his knees, with his frame bent over, his
face almost touching the floor of the room, was praying for his wife and
children. Such a prayer I never heard before, nor do I expect to hear
again. His petition was something like the following:

"Oh, Heavenly Father, I am myself a wicked, desperate man. I do not
deserve any love or protection for my own sake. I do not expect it,
but for the sake of Jesus do have mercy on my poor wife and helpless
children."

I have been able, many times in my life, to spend an hour or more in the
prayer circle, and, unmoved, could listen to the prayers of the children
of God. But I could not remain there in the darkness and listen to such
a prayer as that going forth from the lips of that poor convict; so I
glided back through the darkness into my own room, and left him there
alone, pleading with his Creator for his lone and helpless ones at home.

Reader, did God listen to the wails of that poor heart-stricken
prisoner? Yes! yes! yes! For though a prodigal, sinful child, yet he is
still a child of the universal Father. Who of us dare excommunicate him?
What frail mortal of passing time would dare lift up his hand and say,
this poor wanderer is forgotten of his God?

What a glorious privilege is communion with God. What a sweet
consolation to know God hears, though we may be far removed from the
dear ones we love. And who can tell the glorious things that have been
wrought by the wonderful Father of the race by that strong lever of
prayer. How often has the rough ways of life been made smooth. How often
do we fail to credit the same to the kind intercession of friends with
the Father of us all.

But to continue, it often happens that in the coal mines, persons,
no longer able to sustain the heavy load that is placed upon them of
rema