I had just been through the street car with tracts. Many had been received, but some only to be thrown away. The snow was deep outside, and one passenger carelessly tossed his on a snow bank as he left the car.
The snow had gone when a letter came from an utter stranger, telling of how returning home one evening, she had picked up a tract in a snow bank, and taken it home to her dying husband. He had read it, and re-read it, and through it had found perfect peace. He now was with the Lord, but the sorrowing widow had comfort in her loss as she knew he was forever with the Lord.