"Oh, ma'am," she said, "I have prayed, and do pray for him daily. But then I think God loves him better than I can love him, and needs none of my prayer in the case. And so a chill falls over me, and everything grows dark and hopeless--for, of myself, I can do nothing." "Our prayers cannot change the purposes of God towards any one; but God works by means, and our prayers may be the means through which he can help another." "How? How? Oh, tell me how, Mrs. Wilkins?" The girl spoke with great eagerness. I had an important truth to communicate, but how was I to make it clear to her simple mind? I thought for a moment, and then said-- "When we think of others, we see them." "In our minds?" "Yes, Polly. We see them with the eyes of our minds, and are also present with them as to our minds, or spirits. Have you hot noticed that on some occasions you suddenly thought of a person, and that in a little while afterwards that person came in?" "Oh, yes, I've often noticed, and wondered why it should be so." "Well, the person in coming to see you, or in approaching the place where you were, thought of you so distinctly that she was present to your mind, or spirit, and you saw her with the eyes of your mind. If this be the right explanation, as I believe it is, then, if we think intently of others, and especially if we think with a strong affection, we are present with them so fully that they think of us, and see our forms with the eyes of their spirits. And now, Polly, keeping this in mind, we may see how praying, in tender love for another, may enable God to do him good; for you know that men and angels are co-workers with God in all good. On the wings of our thought and love, angelic spirits, who are present with us in prayer, may pass with us to the object of our tender interest and thus gaining audience, as it were, stir the heart with good impulses. And who can tell how effectual this may be, if of daily act and long continuance?" I paused to see if I was comprehended. Polly was listening intently, with her eyes upon the floor. She looked up, after a moment, her countenance calmer than before, but bearing so hopeful an aspect that I was touched with wonder. "I will pray for him morning, noon, and night," she said, "and if, bodily, I cannot be near him, my spirit shall be present with his many times each day. Oh, if I could but draw him back from the evil into which he has fallen!" "A sister's loving prayer, and the memory of his mother in heaven, will prove, I trust, Polly, too potent for all his enemies. Take courage!" In the silence that followed this last remark, Polly arose and stood as if there was something yet unsaid in her mind. I understood her, and made the way plain for both of us. "If I had known of this before, it would have explained to me some things that gave my mind an unfavorable impression. You have not been like yourself for some time past."