"I'm almost through, my friend. I've had some sore trials in life,--not so much on my own account as because of those who were too dear to me. We were cruelly wronged, and I have not been quite right here,"--placing his hand upon his forehead,--"and what has made it worse, I have been all wrong here,"--laying his hand upon his heart. "I have doubted everybody, and distrusted my God. I have been hard and scornful, and hated my fellows; but it is different with me now. I have heard that voice speaking to me, that you told us of in the little cabin. He has said unto me, even me, 'Come,' and he has given me 'rest.' I have had a long, long struggle, but the conflict is over. Ah, He is so different from human creditors! I have been a poor debtor, chased, hunted, oppressed, goaded almost to insanity, and none took pity on me, because I owed them a few paltry dollars, which I had the heart to pay, but, through the robberies of another, and their oppressions, could not. But what a debt I owed my Savior! Yet, without a word of reproach, he has forgiven me all!" This was spoken with a wondrous energy and clearness of voice; but a deathly paleness began to overspread his face; partial delirium supervened, not raging, as before, but his features lighted up the while with a smile of heavenly beauty, and repeating again, his voice sinking to a whisper,-- "What did the preacher say? 'Come unto me, and I will give you rest.' Rest! Rest! It is mine." His spirit was gone. CHAPTER XVIII. THE BOY IN THE TREE.