"Well, well," said Mrs. Brown. "Deacon, you are not well; your supper has not agreed with you. Lie down and try to sleep."
Again the deacon closed his eyes, and again came the voice—"Send food to John." This time the deacon was thoroughly awake. "Wife," said he, "who do we know named John who needs food?"
"No one I remember," replied Mrs. Brown, "unless it be John Barry, the old charcoal-burner on the mountain."
"That's it!" exclaimed the deacon. "Now I remember, when I was at the store in Sheffield the other day, Clark, the merchant, speaking of John Barry, said, 'I wonder if the old man is alive, for it is six weeks since I saw him, and he has not yet laid in his winter stock of groceries.' It must be old John is sick, and wanting food." So saying, the good deacon arose and proceeded to dress himself.
"Come, wife," said he, "wake our boy Willie, and tell him to feed the horses and get ready to go with me; and do you pack up in the two largest baskets you have, a good stock of food, and get us an early breakfast, for I am going up to the mountain to carry the food I know John Barry needs."
Mrs. Brown, accustomed to the sudden impulses of her good husband, and believing him to be always in the right, cheerfully complied, and after a hot breakfast, Deacon Brown and his son Willie, a boy of nineteen, hitched up the horses to the double sleigh, and then, with a month's supply of food, and a "Good-bye, mother," started at five o'clock on that cold December morning for a journey that almost any other than Deacon Brown and his son would not have dared to undertake.
The north-east storm was still raging, and the snow falling and drifting fast; but on, on went the stout, well-fed team on its errand of mercy, while the occupants of the sleigh, wrapped up in blankets and extra buffalo robes, urged the horses through the drifts and in the face of the storm. That ten miles' ride, which required in the summer hardly an hour or two, was not finished until the deacon's watch showed that five hours had passed.
At last they drew up in front of the hut where the poor trusting Christian man and woman were on their knees praying for help to Him who is always the Hearer and Answerer of prayer; and as the deacon reached the door, he heard the voice of supplication, and then he knew that the voice which awakened him from sleep was sent from heaven.
He knocked at the door. It was opened; and we can imagine the joy of the old couple when the generous supply of food was carried in, and the thanksgivings that were uttered by the starving tenants of that mountain hut.
"Call upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will answer thee."—Lantern.