But all this time William's temporal wants were increasingly pressing. His father had been obliged to sell their little stock of furniture, and the house was broken up. One night his sister told me that William had not so much as a place to sleep in. She took him in with her own children for a few days. I recommended that he should go into St. Luke's Hospital for a month. Perhaps the rest and nourishment he would find there would enable him to get through the trying spring weather, and in the summer he might be better. While this plan was under consideration, William found that he could stay in the room that his father had just quitted until the end of the month, which was half gone. Still clinging to the hope of finding employment, he gave up the hospital plan, while in his almost empty room was neither food nor fuel. His sister did what she could. I applied to the Sick Relief Society for some coal, which was immediately granted. All this time I had not applied to my Superintendent, whose kind and ready sympathy never fails me. The reason was, I have constantly on my heart and hands so many cases of suffering that I cannot represent them all, and am anxious to get through difficulties, as far as possible, without unusual assistance. But in this case God's plans were above my reach. One day Mrs. Knowles called at my room. While we were talking about some mission business, there was a knock. It was William. I had an instant sense that he had providentially called.
"Come in," I said, "and tell your story to my Superintendent." This interview was the beginning of better times for poor William. Mrs. Knowles immediately provided him with better clothing. I had only succeeded in getting some flannel from the Society. Her kindness did not stop here. In a few days she procured him a job of cutting wood.
A Difficulty.—William did his first day's work with all the energy his feeble strength would allow, but on being summoned to the same place again, an unfortunate circumstance occurred. I think it right to state the facts, because it shows how wonderfully God's grace can overrule. He commenced his work as before, but his strength giving out, he accepted an invitation from a lady in an adjoining house to come in and rest. His delicate appearance enlisted sympathy. She had had some conversation with him in his previous day's work, and was now prepared to express the kindest feelings, especially as she herself had lost a brother with consumption. Observing his exhausted state, she brought forward a glass of whiskey, which she made him swallow, strongly advising him to procure more and use it as a stimulant. The lady's intention was only kind, but, unfortunately, William acted indiscreetly upon the advice. Encouraged by the momentary relief afforded by the exhilarating beverage, he did procure more. Whether it was the same day or the next, I am not quite sure, but he went to his sister's at last, sadly under the influence of liquor. His weak state, the uncomfortable condition of his affairs, acting with the liquor upon his brain, caused him for a day or two to behave in a very inconsistent and unnatural manner. He seemed even to vary from his habitual truthfulness. Much disgusted, his sister rebuked him sharply, declared that she would tell me, and of course, the inference was that I should tell Mrs. Knowles. But that good woman knew about it as soon as I did. She was grieved and disappointed at what had occurred, but her uniform kindness did not fail. It was evident he was no longer able to make any exertion for himself, and she procured him admission into St. Luke's Hospital.
He went, in the midst of these trying circumstances, not coming to bid me good-by, and knowing that his sister was seriously displeased. Poor William! disgraced, unhappy, and sick, he went to that bed which was about to become to him as the gate of heaven. I went to see him as soon as possible. I went, intending to talk over with him what had passed, but found him so humble and so suffering that I had no heart to make any allusion to it. We neither of us spoke directly upon the subject. In fact, I said very little upon any subject, for as he lay there with the tears upon his thin face, expressing brokenly his pain and his penitence, I felt that God was teaching him, and taking hold of the very lesson to show him his true character. He was now coming upon a new ground never understood before.
The Blessed Change.—Mrs. Knowles saw William before I went to him a second time. She, too, forbore alluding to the unpleasant circumstances, but she talked to him of our human sinfulness before God, and our need of a Saviour. Some of his most interesting conversations have since been with her. The second time I visited William his bodily strength had greatly failed, but his face was beautiful with a new light I had never seen there before.
"I feel very differently now," he said, "God has forgiven all my sins."
He then went on to express his sense of his own unworthiness; not that he had led a vicious life, but he felt he was a great sinner before God. In the course of conversation I told him his sister had inquired kindly about him; his eyes filled with tears, and he said:
"Tell her I have been converted; I am very happy." The week before Easter, when the Bishop visited the hospital to administer confirmation, William was placed in a chair to receive the rite, and on Easter Day partook of his first communion. It was a glorious day for him. Mrs. Knowles visited him on that day.
A few days after, as I sat by his bedside, he was speaking, as he always did now, of his sense of sinfulness, and his sense of pardon, when I reminded him of the early conversation, before alluded to, in which he had rested on his own moral character for acceptance with God.
"Yes," he replied, "I used to think so, but I have been all wrong. Now I have no dependence but upon Jesus Christ."