I know you will share it with others, and so make a saintly life still reproductive. The world needs nothing so much as _positive Christian character_. Permit me to say that we are greatly prospered in our work, and have hand and heart seemingly full; but, old Allen Street has _a warm place_ in our affection always. Our united regards. Affectionately yours, GEORGE O. PHELPS. * * * * * * The reader will surely notice the true, touching, and graphic account of their work in the next letter. UTICA, N.Y., April 8, 1887. REV. MR. YOUNG: DEAR SIR AND BROTHER--While my mind is full of impressions concerning the life and work of Mr. and Mrs. Knowles, it is not easy to withdraw the details, and give you any real satisfaction. The very simplicity and humility of their ways and deeds render it impossible to make any adequate illustration--not that incidents are lacking. Why, there are families in the vicinity of Allen Street who could relate incidents by the hour touching the gentle care of Mrs. Knowles for the needy and sick. Here her life can never be written in full. "Oh, Mr. Phelps, how sad it is about Mrs. K---- and her little family." "Poor L----, she is going just like her brother, and they don't want me to tell her of our fears." "I have just been to see poor Mr. H----, he cannot live--he doesn't seem to realize it; and then what will become of his family? I have tried so long to get them into the Sabbath-school." "I have just come from Mrs. F---- (a woman of means and Christian charity), who encouraged me greatly in the care of that family where the father is in the hospital." "Mr. Phelps, can you go to No. 12 ---- Street, and see a young man who is sick, and will have to go to the hospital? No friends, and I have been trying to make him comfortable." "Mr. Phelps, can you attend the funeral of a child on ---- Street? It did suffer so much--its mother is on the Island." These were common to her work, as I now recall them; not sentimental products of imagination, but facts, only lacking the details to make the tenor of her life stranger than fiction. To see her quietly enter some abode of the lowly, her soft and gentle greeting to the housewife engaged in her home duties, the aspect, perhaps, a forlorn one, and hear her words of heart-felt sympathy and encouragement, her solicitude for the little ones, that they might be "trained in the way of the Lord," and that simple, fervent, trustful prayer, which seems so befitting as to excite no repellant feeling; and that parting word which would go straight to the mother-heart. Here is a picture of Christian-following which even Munkacsy could not paint.