almost ready to give up his work, on account of the smallness of his
sales. On every side, his ears were filled with complaints of 'hard
times;' the wheat crop had partially failed two years in succession--the
California emigration, and railroad and plank-road speculations had
almost drained the country of money. Frequently he would be told, that
if he could come after harvest they would buy his books, but that it was
impossible to do so then. His sales were daily decreasing, and he became
more and more disheartened, until one night, after a laborious day's
effort, he found that he had _only sold twenty-five cents' worth_! He
felt that he could not go on in this way any longer. He was wasting his
strength and time, and the money of the Society. On examination of the
state of his heart, he found that it had, gradually and almost
unconsciously, grown cold and departed far from Christ. He felt that he
had not prayed as he ought to have done, especially _he had neglected
each morning, and on his approach to each dwelling, to pray that then
and there God would guide him, and own and bless his efforts to sell
books._ He saw that probably here was at least a part of the cause why
his sales had become so small. Early the next morning, before any of the
family were up, he arose and retired to the adjoining woods, where he
had a long and precious season of communion with God. There he anew
dedicated himself and his all to the service of Christ. There, as under
the eye of the Master, he reviewed the time he had labored as a
colporteur, and prayed for forgiveness for the past and grace for the
future. There he told the Saviour all about his work, and asked him to
go with him that day, preparing the way and enabling him to succeed in
the work on which he had entered. The result was what might have been
expected. He went forth a new man; his heart was interested more deeply
in the truths which he was circulating--they were more precious than
ever to his own soul, and he could recommend his books, as he failed to
do when his heart was cold and prayerless. _That first day he sold more