"Well, then, I suppose I must explain," said Mr. Graff. "It's all very singular, and sometimes seems very foolish. This morning, about ten o'clock, as I was busy at my work, suddenly a voice seemed to say to me, 'Send some wood to Deacon P., he is in want!' I was astonished. I could not believe you needed it. And I could not send it to you of all others. I tried to banish the thought, and went to work again more earnestly. But the voice—it seemed within me—said again, with painful distinctness, 'Send some wood to Deacon P., he is in want!' I scouted the idea as weak and silly; a mere phantasy of the brain; but it was of no use; I had to succumb. The more I ridiculed and fought it, the more vivid and irresistible was the impression, until, to purchase peace, and in some awe, I confess, I bade John load his team with wood and leave it at your door. "For a moment I was at rest; but only for a moment. The imperative whisper came, 'Send some candles!' Said I to myself, this is too absurd; I will not gratify this whim; but again I was so beset with the mandate, and so distressed and baffled in repelling it, that, as a cheap way to get out of torment, I handed John a package of candles also. "This matter has been in my mind ever since. Sometimes I have thought it almost a freak of insanity, and then again, such was the strange character of the impression, so unexpected, so solemn and powerful, and such the singular peace following compliance with its dictates, that I almost believe it to be supernatural." "It is, indeed, the doings of Him who is wonderful in working," replied Deacon P. "It was about ten o'clock, I well remember, that I plead with God for the very articles you sent me, in an agony of wrestling I never knew before. It was then too that my soul was filled with the conviction that my prayer was heard and relief would come." Since hearing a venerated relative relate this incident in his own life, we have often wondered how the skeptic can dispose of such occurrences. While it would be presumption for the believer to expect to live by prayer alone, to be fed without his own cooperation, as was Elijah, yet are there not events happening all along the history of the church, in the experiences of individual members, to be accounted for only on the ground of a special Providence, regardful of the emergencies of the believing, suffering people of God? Surely, "light is sown for the righteous," and to them,— "The deepest dark reveals the starriest hope." "A SOFT ANSWER." IT was in the town of —, Connecticut, in which I began my never-to-be-forgotten labors, distributing religious reading, and urging the messages of salvation on all I met, as I visited from house to house. "If you wish to see the most discouraging features of your mission at the outset, visit the Northeast District," a clergyman had said to me; "every thing that is bad you will find there. I hope it will not discourage you."