"
"May I speak to him?"
"Yes, but only for a minute."
The minister hesitated. What could he say in one minute? He touched the
man's torn cheek.
"I am sorry," he said. "I wish I could help you."
The convict looked keenly at him, and he nodded to indicate that he
believed in the sympathy expressed.
"I am going away, and shall never see you again, perhaps; but you have a
Friend who will stay here with you."
The keen, small eyes were upon him. The prisoner dragged himself up,
waiting and eager.
"Have you heard of Jesus?"
"Yes."
"He is your friend. If you are good and true, and will pray to God to help
you, I am sure he will care for you."
"Come, sir," called the keeper. "Time's up."
The clergyman turned sorrowfully away. The prisoner called after him, and,
catching his hand, held it in his own while he could. Tears were in the
preacher's eyes.
Fourteen years passed. The convict was sent into the mines. The minister
went down one day into a mine, and among the workmen saw a gigantic figure
bent with hardship and age.
"Who is that?" he asked the keeper.
"A lifer, and a steady fellow--the best of the gang.
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