From the New Yorker.
TIE SAILOR HOME AT LAST.
{"newspaper_name": "The Washingtonian.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": "A SKETCH by REV. JOHN BOWLING."}
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1t was in the winter Of 1912, and during an


interesting revival of religion in New England
congregation, of which the writer was pastor,
that pious father rose nearly at the close Of
an evening meeting, and spoke, in substance,
nearly as follows: "Brethren, wish you to
pray for my first born son he has been wild
and wayward youth, but the child of many
prayers. For the last eight or ten years, that
is, from the age of thirteen years, he has been
a awanderer on the deep; he has passed through
many perils and hardships, sometimes been
brought to the very brink of the grave, but an
unseen hand has preserved him. TIL within
few days he has continued careless and indif-
ferent to the concerns of his soul, but at length
his mind seems tender, and we have begun to
hope that the Spirit Of God is at work on his
heart. But, brethren, tomorrow he sails as
an officer of a ship for China, and exposed as
he will be to the temptations of sailors life,
tremble for his welfare. Brethren, pray for
my first born SOM" On that evening many a
heartfelt prayer ascended to God for the said
son, in which the praying father most heartily
joined but the object of those prayers sailed
on the morrow, aoithouta hope. y


Months rolled away. and still the prayers Of
a father and mother followed that wanderer on
the ocean wave, and hope was mingled with
anxiety, doubt, and suspense. Ayear had pass
ed away, and that father was permitted to ex-
claim, Brethren, rejoice with me, my son
which was dead is alive again; he was lost
and is found" A letter had arrived from that
son, with the joyful news that he had found
the pearl of great price, and had been baptized
in China by the Rev. Mr.. Shack, Baptist


Missionary from America. 40" said he in
this letter, 81 have indeed rolled sin as sweet
morsel under my tongue, but Gods protecting
hand has been over me for good" Then, after
referring to the day of his baptism, "Oh, it
was a day Of days to my soul. A lovely, plea
SAINT morning, and did feel such a sDeet peace;
a peace that the unregenerated know nothing