his conscience. The former has enlisted his _friendship_; and an accessible friend is better than a brother afar off—even if he be a millionaire, oftentimes. The _prayers_ of those who pray! Ah, yes, that is it. Love and sympathy are what move the world. If one loves us we need not worry about his material gifts to us. If a child of God prays for us he has a real interest in us and will _try_ to give us money (if we are in need of it); and the exertions of such are multiplied a hundredfold by God’s arithmetic. “Those who pray” find that God doesn’t require them to assume the attitude of Abraham, “Oh, let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but this once.” If the loving children of God were permitted to only send up one brief prayer and then have to step back, their interest might die out. No; the rule is “pray without ceasing,” “_whatsoever_ ye ask.” God can raise up helpers out of the very stones of the ground; but he is not likely to do it unless he sees that his children desire and need the help and will faithfully use it. Let us all _pray_ for the faithful ones who carry our burdens by going into the wilderness to do God’s work in our stead, who relieve us of a portion of our duty by doing more than theirs, and our material aid will certainly be larger and of more value than it could possibly otherwise be. As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he. Our prayers follow our thoughts; if we think and pray as benevolent persons it is likely that we shall be benevolent. SUBSCRIBER. * * * * * AN INCIDENT. “Will you come with me, to-day, and visit some of my poor people?” said a Southern lady missionary to me, on my first visit to the sunny South. Of course I would go. I was anxious to meet with my brethren and sisters whose skin color differed from my own. I longed for acquaintanceship with them, to see what they had received. We soon reached a conglomeration of cabins that had a ridiculous resemblance to rooks’ nests. How does it come that sticks in old age look so much more disreputable than stones? These wooden cabins looked far worse than the stone hovels of Achil Island. These lately enfranchised people living here were all renters, and they paid the utmost possible rent for the poorest possible shelter. The cabins were built in clusters of four, so that one corner of each rested against a clumsy chimney, built in the middle in such a manner that each cabin had a corner fire-place.