Andy looked at him with wide-open, questioning eyes.  Mr. Hall saw that he was not understood.

“You know, ’Now I lay me’?” he said.

“No, don’t know it,” replied Andy.

“‘Our Father,’ then?”

The child knit his brow.  It was plain that he did not understand what his good friend meant.

“You’ve said your prayers?”

Andy shook his head in a bewildered way.

“Never said your prayers!” exclaimed Mr. Hall, in a voice so full of surprise and pain that Andy grew half frightened.

“Poor baby!” was said, pityingly, a moment after.  Then the question, “Wouldn’t you like to say your prayers?” brought the quick answer, “Yes.”

“Kneel down, then, right here.”  Andy knelt, looking up almost wonderingly into the face that bent over him.

“We have a good Father in heaven,” said Mr. Hall, with tender reverence in his tone, pointing upward as he spoke, “He loves us and takes care of us.  He brought you to me, and told me to love you and take care of you for him, and I’m going to do it.  Now, I want you to say a little prayer to this good and kind Father before you go to bed.  Will you?”

“Yes, I will,” came the ready answer.

“Say it over after me.  ‘Now I lay me down to sleep.’”

Andy repeated the words, his little hands clasped together, and followed through the verse which thousands of little children in thousands of Christian homes were saying at the very same hour.

There was a subdued expression on the child’s face as he rose from his knees; and when Mr. Hall lifted him from the floor to lay him in bed, he drew his arms about his neck and hugged him tightly.

How beautiful the child looked as he lay with shut eyes, the long brown lashes fringing his flushed cheeks, that seemed already to have gained a healthy roundness!  The soft breath came through his parted lips, about which still lingered the smile of peace that rested there after his first prayer was said; his little hands lay upon his breast.

As Mr. Hall sat gazing at this picture there came a rap on his door.  Then the missionary entered.  Neither of the men spoke for some moments.  Mr. Paulding comprehended the scene, and felt its sweet and holy influence.

“Blessed childhood!” he said, breaking the silence.  “Innocent childhood!  The nearer we come to it, the nearer we get to heaven.”  Then, after a pause, he added, “And heaven is our only hope, Mr. Hall.”

“I have no hope but in God’s strength,” was answered, in a tone of solemn earnestness.

“God is our refuge, our rock of defence, our hiding-place, our sure protector.  If we trust in him, we shall dwell in safety,” said the mission.  “I am glad to hear you speak of hoping in God.  He will give you strength if you lean upon him, and there is not power enough in all hell to drag you down if you put forth this God-given strength.  But remember, my friend, that you must