"A few weeks ago, when the revival was, you know. He got up one night and asked them to pray for him, and now he almost always speaks or prays in the meetings." "Well," said Mr. Lewis, after a pause, and with a little sigh, "I'm sure I ain't sorry. I only hope it will last; he needed it as bad as any one I know of." "It will last," Tip said, speaking positively. "God will look out for that." Then he waited a little before he spoke again--but he had been praying for his father long enough and earnestly enough to feel bold: "I thought, last night, that you must have been pretty good friends once," he said presently, "for he most broke down when he was praying for you, and the tears just blinded him." Mr. Lewis turned himself on his pillow, and looked steadily at his son. "Did Mr. Bailey pray for _me_?" he asked at last. "Yes, he did; and he prayed as if he meant it." "How came he to?" "Why, I asked 'em to--all the folks in meeting, you know. I wanted you to be a Christian, and prayed for you, and then I asked them if they'd pray, and Mr. Bailey got right up. You don't mind that, do you, father? All the folks down there ask us to pray for their friends." "_No_," answered Mr. Lewis at last, speaking slowly, "I don't know that I do. I need praying for, I suppose, if anybody does. I'm going where I can't be prayed for, pretty fast, I guess." Tip had no answer to make to that. "So you prayed for me too, did you?" his father asked presently. "Yes, and I do every day, father; I _do_ want you to know Jesus." A long silence followed, and then the sick man spoke again: "Well, Tip, I'm glad that you've got right, gladder than I can tell you. My father was a good man, and tried to make me do what was right; but I went all wrong, wasted my whole life, and brought up my children to do so too; but you're getting on without my help, and I'm glad you'll grow up to be a good man, and be a comfort to your mother when I'm gone. But I don't know that you need ask folks to pray for me; it's too late,--I've gone too far to get back." Tip's bold, prompt manner did not forsake him now; he answered quickly,-- "Father, I don't believe any such thing. God doesn't say anything about it's being too late; and He says if we want anything very much, and pray for it, and it's good to have, He'll give it to us; and I'm bound to believe Him. Once I prayed for Kitty, and prayed and prayed, and it didn't do a bit of good, until at last Mr. Holbrook told me that maybe it was because I didn't really believe any of the time that God was going to do what I wanted Him to; and I found out that was it. Just as soon as I began to think He would hear me, it all came out straight; and now I'm bound to believe Him every time. I've asked Him to make you a Christian, and I'm going to keep on asking, and _He'll do it_. Father,"--Tip's voice took a softer tone, for he knew there was one very tender spot in his father's heart,--"don't you want to see little Johnny up in heaven?"