The Angel of His Presence by Grace Livingston Hill Page B

be the same man he was speaking of, and could not quite understand their absence, but went on, "And you would say, 'Joe, I shall not give you up. I am praying for you every day. Don't forget that.' And then when he finally could not hold out any longer and came to Christ, he says you were so glad, and he cannot forget how good it was of you to care for him and to stick to him that way. He said your face looked just as if the sun were shining on it the day he united with the church. That was a wonderful work you did there. It is marvelous how it has grown. Those boys of yours will someday repay the work you put upon them. Nearly all of the or iginal mem bers of your own class are now earnest Christians, and they cannot get done telling about what you were to them. My little girl writes me every mail more about it."
    John Stanley suddenly felt like a person who is lifted out of his present life and set down in a former existence . All his tastes, his friends, his pursuits, his surroundings during the past two years had been utterly foreign to the work about which the strang er had been speaking. He had be come so engrossed in his new life that he had actu ally forgotten the old. Not for gotten it in the sense that he was not aware of its facts, but rather forgotten his joy in it. An d he stood astonished and bewil dered, hardly knowing how to enter into the conversation, so utterly out of harmony with its spirit did he find himself. As the stranger told the story of Joe Andrews, there rushed over him the memory of it all: the boy's dogged face; his own interest awakened one day during his teaching of the lesson when he caught an answering gleam of interest in the boy's eye, and was seized with a desire to make Jesus Christ a real, living person to that boy's heart; his watching of the kindling spark in that slug gish soul, and how little by little it grew. Finally, one night the boy came to his home when there were guests present, and called for him, and he had gone out with him into the dewy night under the stars and sat down with him on the front piazza shaded by the vines, hoping and praying that this might be his opportunity to say the word that should lead the boy to Christ. Behold, he found that Joe had come to tell him, solemnly as though he were taking the oath of his life, that he now made the decision for Christ and hereafter would serve him, no matter what he wanted him to do. A strange thrill came with the memory of his own joy over that redeemed soul, and how it had lingered with him as he went back among his mother's guests, and how it would break out in a joyous smile now and then till one of the guests remarked, "John, you seem to be unusually happy tonight for some reason." How vividly it all came back now when the vein of memory was once opened . Incident after incident came to mind, and again he felt or remembered that thrill of joy when a soul says, "You have helped me to find Christ."
    Mr. M anning was talking of his daugh ter. John had a dim idea that she was a little girl, but he did not stop to question. He was remembering, And there was a strange min gling of feelings. His new char acter had so thoroughly impressed its im portance upon him that he felt embarrassed in the face of what he used to be. Strangely enough the first thing that came to mind was, W hat would the " ladye of high de gree" think if she knew all this? She would laugh. Ah! That would hurt worse than anything she could do. He winced almost visibly under her fancied merriment. It was worse than if she had looked grave, or sneered, or argued, or anything else. He could not bear to be laughed at, especially in his new role.
    Somehow his old self and his new did not seem to fit rightly together. But then the new love of the world and his new tastes came in wi th all the power of a new affec tion and asserted themselves, and he straightened up haughtily and told himself that of course he need not be ashamed of his boyhood. He had not done