“No,” said the lawyer, “I shan’t press your claim against that man; you can get some one else to take the case, or you can withdraw it, just as you please.”
“Think there isn’t any money in it?”
“There would probably be a little money in it, but it would come, as you know, from the sale of the little house the man occupies and calls his ‘home.’ And I don’t want to meddle with the matter.”
“Got frightened out of it, eh?”
“Not at all.”
“I reckon the old fellow begged to get off?”
“Well, yes, he did.”
“And you caved in, I suppose?”
“Well, yes.”
“What in creation did you do?”
“I believe I shed a few tears.”
“The old fellow begged hard, you say?” “No, I didn’t say; he didn’t speak to me.” “Well, may I ask, whom did he address?” “His Father in heaven.”
“He took to praying, did he?”
“Yes, but not for my special benefit. You see, it was this way: after finding the little house, I knocked on the outer door which stood ajar, but no one heard me, so I stepped into the little hall, and looked through the crevice of the door in to the sitting-room, and there upon the bed with her silver head high on the pillows, was an old lady who looked just like my mother did when I last saw her on earth. I was going to knock again when she said: ‘Come father, begin. I am ready now.’ So down on his knees went the silver haired man, still older I suppose than his wife; and I couldn’t have knocked then for the life of me. Well, he began; first, he reminded God that they were still His submissive children, mother and him, and no matter what He saw fit to bring upon them, they would not rebel against His will. Of course, it was going to be hard for them to go out homeless in their old age, especially with poor mother so sick and helpless; but still they had seen sadder things than that. But oh, how different might it now be, had even one of their boys been spared to them! Then his voice somewhat broke, and a thin white hand stole from under the coverlet, and moved softly over his snow-white head. Then he went on to repeat that nothing could be so sad again, as the parting with their three sons―unless mother and himself should be separated! But at last he fell to comforting himself with the fact that the gracious Lord knew that it was no fault of their own that mother and him were threatened with the loss of their little home which to them meant beggary and the almshouse―a place they prayed the Lord to deliver them from entering, if consistent with His will. Then he quoted a number of promises concerning the safety of them that put their trust in the Lord. Yes, I should say he begged hard. In fact, it was the most thrilling plea to which I ever listened. And in conclusion he prayed for God’s blessing upon those who were about to demand justice.”
Pausing a moment in silence, the lawyer continued slowly, saying, “And I believe I would rather go to the poor house myself than stain my heart and hands with the blood of such a prosecution as that.”
“Little afraid to defeat that prayer, eh?”
“Bless your soul, man, you could not defeat that prayer. I tell you, he left it all subject to the will of God; yet he did not fail to make known his desires, claiming that we had been commanded to make our requests known unto God. But of all the pleading I ever heard, that was the most impressive. You see, I was taught that kind of thing myself in my childhood and why I was sent there to hear that prayer, I am sure I don’t know―but I hand the case over.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me about the old fellow’s prayer,” said the client, uneasily.
“Why not?” asked the lawyer.
“Well, because I greatly desire the money that little place would bring. But like you, I also, was taught the Bible straight enough when I was a youngster, and I hate to run counter to what you have just related. I wish you hadn’t heard a word about it, and another time I wouldn’t listen to petitions not intended for my ears.”
The lawyer smilingly said, “You are wrong again, my dear fellow; it was intended for my ears, and yours too; and God intended it. I remember hearing my aged mother sing about God moving in a mysterious way.”
“Well, my mother also used to sing the same,” said the client, as he twisted the claim-paper in his fingers. “You can call there in the morning if you like, and tell mother and him the claim has been met.”
“In a mysterious way,” added the lawyer, smiling.
“More Things are Wrought by Prayer
Than This World Dreams of”