“The Golden Shoemaker” knelt down beside the bed, and prayed for his dying cousin, in his own simple, fervent way. Then, with a promise to come again on the following day, he passed out of the room.
The prayer had been brief, and poor Jack had listened to it with heedless resignation; but it had struck a chord in his bruised heart which continued to vibrate long after his visitor was gone.
The next day “Cobbler” Horn found his cousin in a more serious mood. The poor young man told him something of his sad history; and “Cobbler” Horn spoke many earnest and faithful words. It became increasingly evident to “Cobbler” Horn, day by day, that life was ebbing fast within his cousin’s shattered frame; and he grew ever more anxious to bring the poor young fellow to the Saviour. But somehow the work seemed to drag. Jack would express a desire for salvation; and yet, somehow he seemed to be holding back. The hindrance was revealed, one day, by a stray question asked by “Cobbler” Horn.
“How about your will, Jack?”
Jack stared blankly.
“My will? Why should I make a will?”
“Because you have some money to leave.”
“Ah! Whose will it be, if I die without a will?”
“Mine, I suppose,” said “Cobbler” Horn reluctantly, after a moment’s thought.
“Well, then, let it be; nothing could be better.”