"He is dead, and I have killed him!" I said to myself, "and yet I cannot forgive him. I hate him still. He has robbed me of everything I hold dear. How can I forgive him? How can I find peace?" Then, as if in answer to my cry, came the words, "Come unto Me all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." I do not know how, but the message of our Lord had a new meaning. I had heard it read a hundred times without ever thinking of its meaning, but now my heart throbbed with a new hope as I thought of it, "Come unto Me, Come unto Me, and I will give you rest." I kept repeating the passage. "Lord, how can I come!" I cried, "and how can'st Thou hear my voice, the voice of a murderer?" and then, as if in answer to my cry, I seemed to hear the words, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out!" That night for the first time for years I truly prayed. I prayed for light, for penitence, for forgiveness. Ay, I did come to Christ as a poor penitent wayward sinner, and even as I prayed, I caught myself thinking of my brother Wilfred. Without realising what I was doing, I remembered some of our boyish freaks. I thought of the happy days we had spent together and of the times we had knelt side by side and prayed; and then, I know not how, I realised that the hatred I had felt for Wilfred was gone. God had answered my prayer; I had learned to love, and to love my enemy. Do not imagine that my burden was gone when I felt this. The memory of that terrible night became more vivid; but I was changed. I was not the man I was on the night when I madly wrestled with my brother. God had answered my prayer, and in doing so He had changed me. I went back to the vessel a new man, with new feelings, new desires, new aspirations. Night came on again, and still the vessel remained in the harbour at Smyrna. I sat on the deck alone, looking sometimes at the lights of the town, and again at the moonlit sea, still longing and praying for rest. Hour after hour I remained, until my heart grew so sad that I began to realise a misery as great almost as that I had known before the hatred I had for my brother was taken away. "Oh, God, what shall I do?" I cried at length. What was it that answered me? A voice from Heaven, or was it my own heart? All I know is that, sounding from I know not where, I heard the words, "Go home." I felt I could not do this. I could not bear to go back to the scenes of my misery and sin. I should be ever seeing the dead face of my brother; there would be less rest for me there than here. Nor it would not be safe to do so. Perhaps even now the officers of the law were in-- But I would not think of that. All through the night I struggled and prayed, but ever in answer came the same dread message: "Go home. Confess your sins."