That day, the moment my little
boys went to school, I left my work, and, without waiting for gloves or
shadows, hurried over the hills, not to see "that vile wretch," but to win
a soul. I thought the man might die.
As I passed on, a neighbor came out of her cabin, and said, "I will go over
the hills with you."
I did not want her to go, but it was another lesson for me. God could plan
better than I could. She had her little girl with her, and as we reached
the cabin, she said, "I will wait out here."
I do not know what I expected, but the man greeted me with an awful oath.
Still it did not hurt; for I was behind Christ, and I stayed there; and I
could bear what struck him first.
While I was changing the basin of water and towel for him, things which I
had done every day, but which he had never thanked me for, the clear laugh
of the little girl rang out upon the air.
"What's that?" said the man eagerly.
"It's a little girl outside waiting for me."
"Would you mind letting her come in?" said he, in a different tone from any
I had heard before.
Stepping to the door, I beckoned to her; then, taking her hand, said, "Come
in and see the sick man, Mamie.
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