The Adobe Cabin On The Sagebrush Hills

1 want to leave the point impressea upon you, ili-it every oDe chii besuved, it some one Manu him saved bad enough. When I li-ved on the Puclfic coast, In the eurly tlays of niiiiing, there were uot many wninvu there; and it wa a roujjh kind of life, and I had a great deslre to do missionary work. I wanted to go into foreijrn parts, but I found mlssionary work in my own country, and I I a e ever since. One day, I lieard the minerg telling my husband about a 111:111 tliat lay dyinjr ov r in Hiiotlier camp. Thevsaid: "The fellow never had any soul." I liever heard ot' anybody that had 110 bouI, 80 I ii.-knl them abuut him. They snid: "There is no crime tuat li is hands are not stalued with; even the boys from the mines cannot stay with him, is go wild." I went over the sage-brush hilla, until I got to the little adobe cabin. The door stood wide open. The man was there, on the Htniw and colored blankeu on the floor, and, as my shadow feil across the doorway, he greeted me with an awful oath. I stoiped a moment. I had never heard such oaths. I said: " My friend, dont." "You ain't iny triend. I never had a friend." "But it seems sad to see you lying here, sufferiug, and to have ,you lie liere and die." " No otie cares anything about that; I neTer liad any friend." I tbought to touch Iiis heart, and I said: "Do you remember your mother?" I have haidly ever found any one whoie heart would not be touclied by these words. He cursed her. I aaid : "liad you a wifei"' He cursed her. IspokeofGod, and he cursed Him. I spoke of the Lord Jesus ChrUt, and he did not know what I was talking almut. He had been workinji aidiiiKl, sixty year of hl Ufe, - forty years in the city of New York, and he didn't belicve any lie like that. In about two weeks 1 visited him again ; but every method I trieJ seemed to fail. I wanted the key to the nwn's heart. I didn't pray quite right. I teil you this, beoaiise I want the wardens and cha - lains to look at it from a wouian's standpo int. I went home and said to myself: '! dou't know ihat there is any use in goinjc there Bgalll." 1 put my little boys in bed, and left thein with a prayer. I thought, suppose one of my little boys should drift into life and wander off; would uot I want some wonian to try and look alter him, and not even give it up afttr two weeks' labor? I cuuld not sleep. 1 feit that, for sume reason or other, I could not touch the man's heart. I went away and prayed to God. I learned what I bad never learned before - what it was to travail for a human soul. I asked for myself that I might get such a glimpse of the worth of the human soul, tliht I mijfht know how to work for him. I L'i't It, frieuds. I starled next ruorniiijr - I had been there often before - wben the shadows lay tliick and dark on the mountain slde. I had lost sight of my own comfort. I luid learned to work for human souls. There went with me a lady and a little rirl. The man greeted me with a curse, just ns before. It did not hurt me, as other curses had. I furnished him with a clean biisin of water, a towel, and clean dislies, as I had been accustomed to do, aud of wliich he had availed himself without thanks. Soon we heard the clear laugh of that little girl come tteatinu in. He said, ''What Is that y " in a tone of voice in' wliich I had never lieard him speak. "That is a little girl outside.,' "Would you mimi bringing her in ? I would like to see a little girl once more." I called her in. She was afraid of him, poor sick man. Fiually she bent over him, - she had picked some little flowers, - and, with the volee of a little angel, she said: "Sick man, willyou have a flower '! " He reaclied out his great bony hand beyond the ilowers, aud laid it 011 the plump hand of the little girl, and, with a tear starting from his eye, he raid : "I had a little girl once, and she died, and 1 have liated everybody since then. I gueus I would have been a better man, It' it hadn't been for thaj." I said: "I spoke ubout your mother and your wife, and you cuiteJ them." "Yes." "Would you like to have had your little eirl grow up like you f She niight have done so if she had lived." He replied: "Üreat God! I never thought of that! lam glad she died." I said : "You loved the little girl, and she is waitiuj; for you;- the little hand is beckoning, and yon can see her by the help of Jesus Clnist." He asked: "What, do you do, when you want to talk to Him f ' "I pray." "Won't you pray to-day ? " I knelt down and prayed. The prayer was heard. He lived weeks and weeks, and tinally passed over to the other slde; but, before he died, the boys went to see him and he said to them: '"Boys, I want to teil you the story this woiiiau has told me. You know how the water runs down the sluice-box, and k-aves all the gold behind. Well, the blood of that Man she told me about went over me just liko that, aud carried off the last plank, but left enoiigh for me to be saved; and I shall see Mamie, and the Man that died for me by and by." At the last moment, he said: "I ahall see Mamie, and I shall see the Man that died for me." Kriends, if God can save my poor Jack, whose hands were stained with human blood. He can save all men that any r f you have the care of, if 011 ly you go to work for them and save them !