I wish I had space, so I could tell you all of the beautiful, interesting and helpful things that happen day by day in my work; but as I have not, I must content myself with giving you one or two incidents. First, let me tell you about an impromptu prayer-meeting held in one of the many cabins which dot the hills all over. A few nights ago I went to see a sweet old Christian, who for three years has not known an hour’s rest from pain, and yet is as merry as a cricket, receiving the little offerings of food and shelter which her poor neighbors bring her with cheerful gratitude as from her God. One day I asked her how she could be so patient and so gay. “Why, chile, it’s all on de journey, an’ I don’t know no reason why the way should be made easier fur me than it was fur the Master,” she answered. While I was trying to make her more comfortable, several women came in, _none of whom could read_, and after we had talked a little while about our sweet Lord Jesus, one said: “Please read the chapter where Jesus says: ‘I pray not for these alone, but for all of them who shall believe on me through their word.’” A little tin lamp was brought, and as I opened my Bible I glanced at the living picture before me. The lamp threw its feeble light over the patient sufferer, and lit up the dusky faces of the women bending eagerly forward as I read those blessed words. No sooner had I finished the chapter than one began that beautiful slave song, “Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus.” Instantly it was caught up. Our hearts had touched the heart of Christ in this grand prayer chapter. As soon as it was ended, another chapter was asked for, and then another, and another, intermingled with prayer and song. It was just such a prayer-meeting, I imagine, as the one held by the disciples when, being gathered together, Jesus stood in their midst and said, “_Peace be with you._” I knew, I felt that I had been with Jesus.