Old Adam, who shrewdly guessed the current of his thoughts, and greatly sympathised with the youth in whose _bona-fides_ he had perfect faith, replied, “Nay, deean’t trubble te ontherstand it. God’ll explayn it when it’s right for uz te knoa; but as for bidin’ it, He says ‘Mah grace is sufficient fo’ thah.’ Prayer an’ faith can mak’ uz bide whativver cross we may hae te carry; an’, Maister Philip,” said he, tenderly, “He’ll help yo’ te bide yours, if you’ll nobbut tak’ it te t’ Cross an’ ax Him ’at said, ‘Cum te me an’ ah’ll gie yo’ rist.’” “Adam Olliver!” said the young man, “I want that rest with all my heart and soul, but I cannot find it; the last time I saw you, you quoted the words of St. John, ‘He that is born of God sinneth not.’ Tell me, Adam, as you would tell your son, what is it to be born of God?” Struck by the eager tones of the speaker, Adam dropped his knife, looked into the eyes of Philip, which flashed with a very fever of desire, and saw therein the honest, penitent seeker after God. Afterwards, when Adam was relating the circumstances to his friend and neighbour, Nathan Blyth, he said,-- “Ah tell yo’, Nathan, ah was sae tee’an aback, yo’ mud ha’ knocked ma’ doon wiv a feather! Ah felt just like Nehemiah, when he was standin’ afoore t’ king wiv ’is ’eart sad an’ ’is feeace white wi’ trubble for t’ seeak o’ Jerusalem, an’ t’ king ax’d him what was amiss wiv him; an’ like him, ah ‘lifted me’ heart te the God ov heaven.’” “Born of God,” said Adam, in reply to his anxious questioner, “Why, it’s te be a new creeatur i’ Christ Jesus. T’ Holy Sperrit o’ God cums inte t’ heart streight doon frev heaven, tak’s all wer sins away, an’ tells us ’at for Christ’s seeak they’re all pardon’d, an’ fills us wi’ joy an’ peeace thro’ beleeavin’.” “And do you feel that you are born again, Adam? Does the Holy Spirit tell you so? Are you _sure_ that your sins are all forgiven?” “Sure!” said Adam, with a smile which was simply beautiful in its joyous complacency, “ah’s as sartan on it as ah’s a livin’ man. Ah’ve knoan it ivvery day o’ my life for mair then fotty years. ‘The Sperrit o’ God beears witness wi’ mah sperrit ’at ah’s born o’ God.’” His eyes filled with tears of gladness, as he said, “Glory be te God. I ha’nt a doot nor a ghost o’ yan, that me’ neeam is written i’ heaven, Christ is mi’ Saviour, an’ ah knoa ’at when this ’athly hoose o’ me’ tabernacle is dissolved, an’ it’s gettin’ varry shakky, ah’ve a hoose abuv, a buildin’ nut meead bi’ hands, etarnal i’ the heavens!” Philip heaved a sigh which came from the deepest recesses of his heart. “I would give my life,” said he, “to be able to say that. Adam Olliver, show me the way!” “God bless the lad,” said the old Christian with deep feeling, and such a prayer from his lips was indeed a benediction. “You feel yourself to be a poor helpless sinner afoore God?” “My sense of ingratitude and rebellion is greater than I can bear,” was the earnest response.