"Mr. Lewis," said the little girl who came in in answer to his invitation, "father has just come from the post office, and he brought you some letters, and here they are."
Mr. Lewis thanked his little next-door neighbour, took his letters, and, when the room was quiet again, settled back in his chair to enjoy them.
The first one was from a brother minister, begging an exchange. The next brought a look of surprise and delight to his face, for he recognised Ellis Holbrook's handwriting. And the delight spread and deepened as he read; especially when he came to one sentence: "I asked father what message he had for you, and he replied, Send him this verse, and tell him that again it is peculiarly his, 'I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplication.'" That, you see, would have told me the whole story, without this long letter. "I thank God that He put it into your heart to pray for me, as also that He has heard your prayers. God bless you. By the way, father wants you to assist him on the first Sabbath in July. I earnestly hope you can do so; he thinks you will be coming east about that time."
Was there ever a more thankful heart than was that minister's as he laid down his old schoolfellow's letter? How constantly, how sometimes almost hopelessly, had he prayed for Ellis Holbrook! How many times had he been obliged to reassure himself with the promise, "In due season we shall reap, if we faint not." And now again had God's word been verified to him. He took the letter up once more, to look lovingly at that closing, never before written by Ellis,—"Your brother in Christ."
There was still another letter to read. That writing, too, was familiar; he had received many reminders of it during the past years. He laughed as he read, it sounded so like the writer:—
ALBANY, June—, 18—.
"DEAR TIP,—Do you have Fourth of July out your way this year? We do here in Albany; rather, I'm going to have one in my yard. Perhaps you remember a Fourth of July which you took me to once, when we were ragged little wretches at home? I do, anyhow, and this is to be twin-brother to that time. All the ugly, dingy little urchins that I know have been invited. We're to have fine fireworks and fine singing and fine eating. My wife added that last item,—thought it a great improvement. I'm not sure but it is; most things are that she has a hand in. Now, to come to the point of this letter,—you're to make the speech on that occasion. No getting out of it now! I planned this thing one day in the old schoolhouse. Oh, did you know Mr. Burrows had given up teaching? Grown too old. Queer, isn't it? Don't seem as if anybody was growing old except me. At first I wasn't going to have my feast on the Fourth, because, you remember, it was on that day that our blessed Ray left us; but, talking with Mr. Minturn about it, he said Ray would have been delighted with it all,—and so he would, you know. Don't think we are going to gather in all Albany; it's only the younger scholars of the mission school, in which my wife and I are interested.
"Tell Howard and Kitty to be sure and come; they can put their visit a few weeks earlier as well as not.
"Oh, by the way, if you have heard from Ellis Holbrook lately, you are singing 'Glory Hallelujah' by this time!
"I am writing this in the counting-room, and am in a great hurry, though you wouldn't think it. Shall expect you by the third, certainly.—