change as it is to change a hard heart and get a new heart from our
Savior."

Claude did not say anything. He bent over the hard clods and worked
silently, but he was not thinking of his work. He was remembering
his mother's voice as it had sounded nights when she had knelt
beside his bed and prayed that her boy might become a Christian.
There had been one night that Claude would always remember, when his
mother had come for the last time to his bedside, and prayed feebly
for her boy. The next week she had died.

Claude looked up at Neil, now. The man evidently found the work
hard, but his face showed that he had spoken truly when he said that
he was glad, even though he did work on the hard, alkali clods.

"I wish I were like Neil," thought Claude.

The wish grew. It changed into an earnest prayer, not that he might
be like Neil, but a prayer for the same blessing that Neil had--a
new heart. No earnest prayer for that gift is ever met by a refusal.
Neil watched Claude anxiously, as they worked day by day.

"We can't change ourselves, any more than this alkali plot can
change itself," said Neil, "but we can yield ourselves and our life
to the blessed Jesus and love him, for he is love."

One day, Claude said softly, "I've done it, Neil. I've given myself
to Jesus."

The face of the hired man glowed with added happiness through the