The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1872-11-20
Sir, I Shall Pray for You Tonight at
Twelve"

The cars were hurrying toward the city
as if conscious that business hours has begun.
Our party was seated comfortably, full of
plans for doing all that we wished to do while
in town. Presently friend seeing US, came
over and took seat with us, and happily
diverted our numbered brains by incidentally
mentioning that he had travelled to and fro
over the State of Maine time and again. We
were all interested at once; for was not that
our fatherland, and did we not feel as if
'our foot was on its native heath?'
After much chit chat and many tales of
adventures, our visitors, becoming more seri-
Gus, said: 81 left one of those towns one
fine September morning in a top buggy with
a good horse. Two or three miles out l
noticed that the read stretched up and over
a long steep hill. As my. horse crept up l
saw not far before me person walking; she
looked very old, and scarcely appeared to
move, so slow was her gait. As 1 came up
l said, Why, mother, what are you doing
here why, man, said she, l am going
to the next town to visit my son. But,
ma am, it is seventeen miles. %, well, l
shall call at some farmers for the night, and
hope tomorrow to drink tea with my Will
liam
elf, said 1, you think you can trust
me, shall be glad to give you a seat in my
carriage, as my route lies through that town.
CHOW, child, this is good of you, and
praised be God With much ado she was
finally seated, and we logged on. She en-
tertained me with an account of her family,
why and when she came from Scotland; said
she was eighty-fve years old, and with many
pious explosives unwistingly taught me
lesson of gratitude. When she alighted at
MY Williams door she heaped her bless
ings upon me, thanking me over and over,
and saying, Il shall be on my knees at twelve
o'clock praying to God for you, and remem-
Der, sir, that God has promised to hear the
prayer of the widow and fatherless.' l
smiled my thanks uncOncernedly, and said,
Good bye, good bye, | must go;' but she
held my arm, saying, Remember, boy, l
shall pray for you to night at twelve
Thanking her once more, was soon
seated, and trotted off at brisker rate than
usual, for must l not reach the Penobscot,
and take the Boston boat at Bangor? So on
I went, and as l drove into town in ample
season to secure my passage, 1 mOralised
that my good speed was because l honored
that hoary-headed woman; and believe also
that my life and the liVesof others were
spared that night from death in answer to
that midnight prayer. That very hour was
one of the darkest of my life, for | was on
board the steamer Cambridge, and the fierce
gale of September s, 1869, was upon US
our vessel lay in the trough of the sea a
helpless thing. As the clock in the saloon
pointed to twelve that night steam-pipe
burst, and almost in an instant the ship was
filed to 8nFocatiOn with the vapor. Every
moment we ex pected to see the flames burst
put. The terror of that hour can better be
imagined than described. There were seventy
i've ladies and more than twice as many
gentlemen. The officers found all discipline
even the coal-heavers entered
inc ladies state-rooms and took hfe-preserv-
FRS from them. As rushed to the forward
leck my heart was full, and l could only
cry, 80 that that widows prayers might be
and We yet be saved?
"The night wore on, and still we were
lhoat, and neither fire nor water had de-
7oured US. The next day there doomed up
n our wake a large white steamer, white and
air as the wings of mercy. She threw US
inc, and brought us safely to port" Here
,ur friend paused, but as no one spoke, he
aid, ''Now, this is true, and no exaggera-
ion, and 1 believe that the prayers of that
woman saved the ship" There was an ex-
lamation of eyes, yes" from all, and as |