worked to a charm. As I prayed, I couldn’t help letting my engine out just a little.  We hardly stopped at the first station, people got on and off with wonderful alacrity, the conductor’s lantern was in the air in half a minute, and then away again.  Once over the summit, it was dreadful easy to give her a little more, and then a little more, as I prayed, till she seemed to shoot through the air like an arrow.  Somehow I couldn’t hold her, knowing I had the road, and so we dashed up to the junction six minutes ahead of time.’  There stood the train, and the conductor with his lantern on his arm.  ‘Well,’ said he, ’will you tell me what I am waiting here for?  Somehow I felt I must wait your coming to-night, but I don’t know why.’  ‘I guess,’ said the brother conductor, ’it is for this woman, with her sick and deformed child, dreadfully anxious to get home this Saturday night.’  But the man on the engine and the grateful mother think they can tell why the train waited.  God held it to answer their prayers.”

Think of this wonderful improbability according to natural circumstances.  These trains never connected with each other, nor were intended to.  There was no message sent ahead to stop.  There was not the slightest business reason for waiting, yet the second conductor, on arrival of the first, asks this question, “What am I waiting for,” and the answer of the first is more singular, “I don’t know.”

ANOTHER INSTANCE OF SUPERHUMAN CONTROL OF THE LOCOMOTIVE, IN ANSWER TO PRAYER.

An exact parallel instance to the foregoing is given in the experience of a correspondent of The Christian, which occurred in the latter part of November, 1864, while traveling with her aged father and two small girls: 

“We started from New Hampshire on Thursday morning, expecting to have ample time to get through to Indiana before Saturday night; but, after we crossed the St. Lawrence River, the next day, I think, there was a smash-up on a freight train, which hindered our train about two hours.  I began to feel anxious, as I knew our limited means would not permit us to stop long on the way.  After the cars had started again, I inquired of the conductor what time we should get to Toledo, fearing we should not reach there in time for the down train. He said it would be impossible to gain the time. Soon they changed conductors, and I made a similar inquiry, getting about the same answer.  Still I hoped, till we reached the Detroit River.  Here I found that, though they had put on all the steam they dared to, they were almost an hour behind time, so I should have to stay over till Sunday night.

“After getting seated in the cars on the other side, I ventured to ask the conductor if we should get to Toledo in time for the down train.  He readily said, ’No, madam, impossible!  If we put on all the steam, we dare to, we shall be more than half an hour behind time. If we were on some trains we might hope they would wait; but on this, never!  He is the most exact conductor you ever saw.  He was never known to wait a second, say nothing about a minute, beyond the time.’ I then inquired if we could not stay at the depot.  He said, No; we should all freeze to death, for the fire is out till Sunday evening.