I shall never forget the feeling that took possession of me: it seemed as if, into that one moment, the experiences of years were crowded--recollections of my childhood--tender thoughts of my wife--dreams of the future, in which I had meant to do so much, all thronged in, thick and fast upon me. Could this be death? I gave a wild, despairing cry for help. I prayed aloud that God would not let me die. I had lost all presence of mind; no thought of standing back against the wall came to me. I rushed madly forward in a frenzy of despair. The sound of my voice, as it echoed through that dismal place, was drowned in an instant by the sharp, discordant scream of the express. On I dashed, right in front of the goods train; the yellow light of the engine shone full upon me; death was at hand. It seemed that nothing short of a miracle could save me, and, to my thinking, it was a miracle that happened. Only a few yards from the engine and, as I struggled blindly on, a strong hand seized me with a grasp of iron, and I was dragged on one side. Even in my bewilderment I knew that I was not against the wall, but in one of those very recesses I had searched for in vain. I sank upon the ground, only half conscious, yet I saw the indistinct blur of light as the trains swept by. I am not given to swooning, so that, after the first moment, I was quite alive to my exact situation. I knew that I was crouching on the ground, and that that iron-like grasp was still on my collar. Presently the hand relaxed its hold and a gruff, but not unkindly, voice said:-- "Well, mate, how are you?" This inquiry unlocked my tongue, and I poured forth my gratitude. I hardly know what I said; I only know I was very much in earnest. I told him who I was and how I came to be there, and in return asked him his name. "That does not signify," was the answer; "you can think of me as a friend." "That I shall," I returned, gratefully; "for God knows you have been a friend in need to me!" "Ah!" he said, musingly, "your life must be very sweet, for you seemed loath enough to part with it!" I admitted the truth of this--indeed, I had felt it more than once during the last hour. I had been one of those who, in fits of depression, are wont to say that life is not worth living--that we shall be well out of it, and the rest; yet, when it seemed really slipping from my grasp, I had clung to it with a tenacity which surprised myself. And now, with the future once more before me, in which so much seemed possible, I was filled with gratitude to God and to my unknown friend, by whose means I had been saved. There was a short silence; then I asked, rather doubtfully, if there were not some way in which I could prove my gratitude. [Illustration: "A STRONG HAND SEIZED ME."]