I have made it a rule to carry my sins there every Sunday, and have often come away from that holy sacrament feeling as happy and free as a bird.”  My friend looked surprised, but did not dispute this part of my experience.  He contented himself by asking me quietly, “And how long does your peace last?” This question made me think.  I said, “I suppose, not a week, for I have to do the same thing every Sunday.”  He replied, “I thought so.”  Opening the Bible, he found the fourth chapter of St. John, and read, “’Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again.’  The woman of Samaria drew water for herself at Jacob’s well, and quenched her thirst; but she had to come again and again to the same well.  She had no idea of getting water, except by drawing, any more than you have of getting peace excepting through the means you use.  The Lord said to her, ’If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water,’ which would be ‘a well of water springing up into everlasting life’” (John 4:10-14).  My friend pointed out the difference between getting water by drawing from a well, and having a living well within you springing up.

I said, “I never heard of such a thing.”

“I suppose not,” he answered.

“Have you this living water?” I continued.

“Yes, thank God, I have had it for the last thirty years.”

“How did you get it?”

“Look here,” he said, pointing to the tenth verse:  “You wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water.”  “Shall we ask Him?” I said.

He answered, “With all my heart;” and immediately pushing back his chair, knelt down at his round table, and I knelt on the opposite side.  What he prayed for I do not know.  I was completely overcome, and melted to tears.  I sat down on the ground, sobbing, while he shouted aloud, praising God.

As soon as I could get up, I made for the door, and taking my hat, coat, and umbrella, said that “I was really afraid to stay any longer.”  With this I took my departure, leaving my carpet-bag behind.  It was seven miles to Penzance, but in my excitement I walked and ran all the way, and arrived there before the coach, which was to have called for me, but brought my carpet-bag instead.  In the meantime, while I was waiting for it, I saw a pamphlet, by Mr. Aitken, in a shop window, which I bought, and got into the train to return to Baldhu.  My mind was in such a distracted state, that I sought relief in reading.  I had not long been doing so, when I came to a paragraph in italics:  “Then shall He say unto them, Depart from Me; I never knew you.”  The question arrested me, “What if He says that to you?  Ah, that is not likely.  But, what if He does?  It cannot be.  I have given up the world; I love God; I visit the sick; I have daily service and weekly communion.  But, what if He does?—­what if He does?  I could not bear the thought; it seemed to overwhelm me.”