could not mistake the words. "And the Spirit and the Bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." And still nearer their echoing footfalls came, when suddenly the glowing arch of fire in his grate fell together, and a policeman passing his hut with measured tread, shouted—
"Good night, Joe. We shall have a storm, I reckon; the wind has got up terrible during the last hour."
"Ay, ay," responded Joe, rubbing his eyes and wondering for a moment what had come over him.
"You seem hardly awake, Joe," laughed the policeman.
"Believe I 'ave nodded a bit," said Joe. "But, bless me, how the wind do howl!"
"Yes, it'll be rough outside the 'bar,' I reckon. I hope we shall have no wrecks. Good night."
"Good night," said Joe, as he staggered out of his hut to mend the fire, which done, he sat down to reflect.
"Wur it a vision," he soliloquized," or wur it a dream, or wur it 'magination? Wur it given to teach or to mislead me? But, lor', how bright that promise did shine! I ken see it now. It are in the Bible, too, that's the queerest part on it. An' how beautiful they did sing, an' how they did shout out that part, 'Whosoever will.' Lor' bless us! I can't get it out o' my noddle; nor I dunno that I want to, it's so amazin' comfortin', and much more nearer my idear of what God ought to be, 'cause as how there is no limit to it."
