It was a Saturday, and on his arrival at Easton a press of work was upon him until a late hour that night. Quite exhausted, not far from midnight he threw himself upon his bed, and soon fell asleep. Philosophers tell us that our dreams are a continuation of our waking thoughts. Be this as it may, Ray soon had a vision or dream quite in keeping with his thoughts and feelings of the whole day before. He felt himself suddenly surrounded by an intense glory; an inexpressible happiness filled his soul; the brightness grew so vivid he could not keep his eyes open. But a moment later he felt a hand laid upon his head, and a voice, loving and tender, said: "God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good word and work." Thrice did the voice utter these words; and then the hand was removed, the brightness gradually faded away, but the happiness remained. It was a joy unlike any Ray had experienced before--deeper, richer, holier far. He felt that he had been baptized anew with the Holy Ghost. He went to his pulpit the following morning with the power of that divine touch and commendation upon him. He preached with a freshness and vigor that moved the great audience before him; in the evening prayer meeting, souls inquired the way to Jesus. With the suddenness of a meteor's glare the power of the Spirit burst in mighty revival upon that church and congregation. For ten weeks Ray stood nightly in his pulpit and proclaimed the word of life; hundreds inquired: "What shall I do to be saved?" Then, from sheer exhaustion, Ray stopped. His church officers called on him, and said: "Pastor, go off and rest. Stay one week or more, as you please. We will do what we can to continue these services; but you have earned, nay, your physical condition demands, absolute rest." The next train took Ray to Afton. There was no place where he could rest as he could in the Lawton cottage. His extra labor had kept him too from Daisy; and he felt he now had earned the right to spend a few days by her side. He had not realized how exhausted he was until he got out at the Afton station, and started to walk up the avenue. From sheer weakness he was forced to call a carriage, and be driven around to the cottage door. It was now the middle of May, and the day was bright and sunny. So it happened Daisy was out on the veranda as the carriage stopped at the gate, and he alighted, and, with feeble step, advanced up the walk. She sprang to meet him, with a cry of alarm. "Oh, Ray, what is it? Are you sick? Let me help you into the house. Fortunately, Edward is within." She helped him up the steps, into the little sitting room; and, with a weary sigh, he sank down upon a sofa. "It is nothing but sheer exhaustion," he said to her, with a faint smile. "A few days' rest, and your nursing, will make a new man of me."