"And then there was a poor Irish girl in one of the wards, a Catholic, but one of the most devoted Christian girls I ever met.... Her home is in Ireland; but while visiting in this country, she met with a fearful accident, and was sent to the hospital for treatment. When I met her she was recovering, but was feeling somewhat disheartened because her friends were so far away; and she was often slighted on account of her being an 'Irish Catholic.'... I was enabled to cheer her up a great deal, and to do one or two little substantial acts of kindness for her, which went directly to her heart, and seemed to do her so much good that I thanked God, involuntarily, for the opportunity of cheering her, and being of service to her.

"But I was enabled to render the most assistance to an American lady,—a noble-hearted woman and a true Christian. Her life has been one of adventure and suffering, and one cannot listen to the recital of her touching story without feeling deeply interested in her. She has been in the hospital a long time, and is at present very weak and frail; and there is a great deal of doubt about her ever being any better. I bought little things for her that I knew did her good; and when I came away I left a very little money with her, in order that she might be able to procure any little thing that she felt as if she couldn't do without, even if the hospital did not furnish it. And so I had the pleasure of leaving her quite light-hearted and hopeful, believing more firmly than ever that the Lord would care for her, and never, never forsake her."

It was indeed a privilege to give assistance in any way to one so grateful as was Manning, for all that he received of blessing, and so ready to make others happy by ministering discreetly, and in a loving, Christ-like spirit, to the needy and heavy-burdened about him.

HOPE AGAINST HOPE.—THE PRIVILEGE OF CHRISTIAN WORK.

From the hospital to his home, and again among friends who felt that his presence with them was in itself a blessing, Manning still sought health, while growing gradually weaker and less able to exert himself in body or mind. He would not see the dark side of his case, but still confidently hoped for recovery. "I don't feel natural yet, by any means," he wrote from Fiskdale, where he was with good friends on a farm, in October, 1867, "nor free from mental weakness, but I'm stronger physically than I have been since I left Andover, certain. You see we are a mile and a half from neighbors, and my friends are very quiet indeed, so I talk hardly any; and when I get to work husking corn, digging potatoes, and the like, I often even forget to think, and I gain by it rapidly; but when I come down to writing letters, it puts me back."

Manning's days of struggle with disease were not wholly profitless to others. He was the means of not a little good, in his moving from point to point in the last year of his toilsome life. At South Danvers, Bridgewater, Fiskdale, Winchester, Beverly, Hartford, and elsewhere, he raised his voice or used his warm and loving heart for precious souls, in ways that will never be forgotten. His crown in heaven will be bright with stars won in those months of vain search for health. And this work was ever a joy to him, and he thanked God for his part in it.

While in the hospital at Boston, he told in sadness of his disappointments in efforts at Christian activity,—of his going to a place in Vermont where was such need of religious endeavor that "even he could do something for Jesus," and of his being taken ill on the very day of his arrival there, and thus prevented raising his voice for the Master. "And so it has often been," he added, regretfully. "I don't know whether I've learned the right lesson from all this; but this is what it seems to me God is teaching me by these disappointments: It is a blessed privilege to work for Jesus. Jesus didn't need me in Vermont. He has never needed me anywhere; but he has let me work for him sometimes. Oh, if I ever get well enough to work for him again, won't I be thankful for it!" Would to God that all Christians had learned this lesson as well!

ONLY WAITING.—REST AT LAST.

At length the prolonged struggle drew towards its close. Early in May last, Manning—told by the physicians in a water-cure establishment, where he had been spending some months, that nothing more could be done for him with hope—turned his steps for the last time to his Warwick home. He still had hope of recovery, for he had passed so many perils safely that he could hardly realize there was any death for him; but he was now more resigned to inaction, in the same trustful love of Jesus and his cause. "I know that my Saviour will take care of me," he wrote: "I don't think it, I know it! I haven't the slightest doubt of it. He never manifested himself to me more wonderfully than he has of late; never satisfied the cravings of my heart more, or filled my soul more full! And I believe I never had so much love for him, or loved to speak of him to others, so well, as at the present time!" But he added, "It is not my business to think whether I am to live or die, but, rather, how I can best serve Christ. I want to do any thing, and be any thing, and suffer any thing that he wants me to." So, as he lay down on his home-bed to die, he had learned his last lesson,—he could wait as well as work.

"He was not eager, bold,
Nor strong,—all that was past;
He was ready not to do,
At last, at last."