a green-and-red carpet-bag? and did not William meet you on the road?"
Poor young man! he looked dreadfully perplexed. "Never mind her," I
said; "sit down and tell us about your journey."

After we had talked of this and other subjects, we return home. I then
told him that we were converted and asked if he had given his heart to
God. He said he had. Not being satisfied, I put the question in another
form, and yet remained unsatisfied with his answer. "Do you doubt me?"
he asked: "I will prove it to you." He then went up to his room for a
little while, and returned with a paper in his hand, in which was a
dedication of himself to God, duly signed and sealed. I had never seen
an instrument of this kind before, and asked if he really believed in
it? "Yes, certainly," he replied; "and I mean it, too."

"But," I said, "do you not see that faith does not consist in believing
what you write, but in what God has written? The Word says that God is
more willing to take than you are to give: you believe you have given;
but do you believe that God has taken? He is far more ready to take your
heart than you to give it; as surely as you have given, so surely He has
taken. Cannot you see that?"

He replied, "I knew that there was something wrong about this, but I did
not know what. Thank you! thank you!" Then thoughtfully folding up the
paper, he went out of the room.

The bell was rung for dinner, but he did not appear; and then for tea,
but he declined taking any. After we had gone to church, he found his
way down and followed us there; and when the service was over he
returned again to his room. I was detained at the schoolroom that night,
and until two o'clock in the morning, praying and talking with anxious