"But I was enabled to render the most assistance to an American lady,--a noble-hearted woman and a true Christian. Her life has been one of adventure and suffering, and one cannot listen to the recital of her touching story without feeling deeply interested in her. She has been in the hospital a long time, and is at present very weak and frail; and there is a great deal of doubt about her ever being any better. I bought little things for her that I knew did her good; and when I came away I left a very little money with her, in order that she might be able to procure any little thing that she felt as if she couldn't do without, even if the hospital did not furnish it. And so I had the pleasure of leaving her quite light-hearted and hopeful, believing more firmly than ever that the Lord would care for her, and never, never forsake her." It was indeed a privilege to give assistance in any way to one so grateful as was Manning, for all that he received of blessing, and so ready to make others happy by ministering discreetly, and in a loving, Christ-like spirit, to the needy and heavy-burdened about him. HOPE AGAINST HOPE.--THE PRIVILEGE OF CHRISTIAN WORK. From the hospital to his home, and again among friends who felt that his presence with them was in itself a blessing, Manning still sought health, while growing gradually weaker and less able to exert himself in body or mind. He would not see the dark side of his case, but still confidently hoped for recovery. "I don't feel natural yet, by any means," he wrote from Fiskdale, where he was with good friends on a farm, in October, 1867, "nor free from mental weakness, but I'm stronger physically than I have been since I left Andover, certain. You see we are a mile and a half from neighbors, and my friends are very quiet indeed, so I talk hardly any; and when I get to work husking corn, digging potatoes, and the like, I often even forget to _think_, and I gain by it rapidly; but when I come down to writing letters, it puts me back." Manning's days of struggle with disease were not wholly profitless to others. He was the means of not a little good, in his moving from point to point in the last year of his toilsome life. At South Danvers, Bridgewater, Fiskdale, Winchester, Beverly, Hartford, and elsewhere, he raised his voice or used his warm and loving heart for precious souls, in ways that will never be forgotten. His crown in heaven will be bright with stars won in those months of vain search for health. And this work was ever a joy to him, and he thanked God for his part in it.