Thompson, who seems remarkably happy, as to try to behave as well as
Pardon Hitch, who is a model in Barmouth."

When we went to church the next morning, I saw him in one of the back
pews, leaning against the rail, as if he had no strength. His face was
full of anguish. He sat there motionless all day. He was prayed for,
but did not seem to hear the prayers. At night his wife led him home.
By the end of the third day, he interrupted an exhorting brother by
rising, and uttering an inarticulate cry. We all looked. The tears
were streaming down his pale face, which was lighted up by a smile
of joy. He seemed like a man escaped from some great danger, torn,
bruised, breathless, but alive. The minister left the pulpit to shake
hands with him; the brethren crowded round to congratulate him, and
the meeting broke up at once.

Neither grand'ther nor Aunt Mercy had spoken to me concerning
my interest in Religion; but on that very evening Mr. Boold, the
minister, came in to tea and asked me, while he was taking off his
overcoat, if I knew that Christ had died for me? I answered that I was
not sure of it.

"Do you read your Bible, child?"

"Every day."

"And what does it teach you?"

"I do not know."

"Miss Mercy, I will thank you for another cup. 'Now is the day, and