Mrs. M. lives at a distance, so I take the street cars. A rap at the outside gate, a careful climbing up the rickety stairway and I am warmly greeted by the little woman. Would that I had space to describe to you her one bit of a room. She says: “You must excuse it; ’tisn’t alus possible to keep things lookin jus so.” She has received no pay for her last three months’ washing, so for want of car fare her Sabbaths have been spent at home. I must tell her all about the meetings, the New Year’s tree, how many have joined the church, and affairs generally. With a prayer and a substantial proof that the “Lord will provide” her heart is comforted. I find Aunt Sally “jus tolable, thank’e, but powerful busy.” She tells me once again, “’Twill be a glorious time, shur nuff, chile, when I can leave this ere washtub for a manshun in de hebens.” I seek out a delinquent Sabbath-school scholar and call upon two interesting little girls, who promise to come to the sewing school. A picture paper given to each and I hasten homeward. After dinner I find a little time for writing. Promptly at 7 o’clock the church prayer meeting begins. The passage selected for the evening lesson is Jer. 8:20. The large audience listen attentively to the pastor’s words. In the hush of this tender interest nine come forward for prayers. The voice of petition rises in their behalf. Two tell us that they have found Jesus. We sing “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” Benediction is pronounced and the meeting closes. Another day, with its joys and sorrows, its failure and success, is ended. Its record is with Him who sees and understands. In the quiet of my room I kneel to humbly ask that it may be accepted as “one more day’s work for Jesus,” knowing that it is “one less of life” for us all. LINCOLN MISSION, WASHINGTON, D.C. _By Mrs. C. B. Babcock._