The brown horse trotted along well content, notwithstanding his bridle was wondrously patched and his saddle old and worn, while the man upon his back, though young enough, wore clothes as well patched as the harness. He was a messenger of the King, and though we may not suppose that the horse knew anything of that, he did know that his master was kind and thoughtful toward him, and he was willing to carry a man anywhere who would be as good to him as this young preacher.

They were traveling, James White and his horse, from their home in central Maine, to Augusta, the capital of the state. It was cold, for it was in January. The horse kept warm enough, trotting over the frozen, snowy road, but his rider shivered under his thin overcoat as the keen blast whistled around them. Warm memories they were, however, that we may believe coursed through his mind, going over his experiences thus far.

Coming home from teaching, two years before, he had been astonished to hear his mother tell him of the message that was being preached of Jesus' coming. He did not want to believe, but as he tried to show the doctrine wrong, he found his mother more than a match for him, for she had truth on her side. And quietly she interested him in it, until he gave up all for it.

And now, with a warmer glow, would come the thought of his first mission; how the Lord had sent him, against his will, back to his school pupils, to pray with them; how, as he tramped along on his errand that bright spring morning, the peace of God had come into his heart and blessed him, and made him able, little as he knew, to begin to gather people into the fold of Christ.

After that he had studied hard to get ready to give the truth; for he had not been much of a Bible student before, and he realized that he must thoroughly know the prophecies and their meaning, as well as the rest of the Bible, if he was going to help people.

Poor enough, he thought, had been his efforts to preach that message, but God had been with him, and helped him teach the people.

The stinging cold at last drew back his thoughts to the present, and he found he was nearing the city of Augusta. The night was coming on, and he did not know of any friend in the city. But as he came to the outskirts, he saw a humble little cottage, and getting down from his horse, he walked up to the door, knocked, and said to the man who opened it: "I am a penniless preacher, and I am looking for a place to stay with some good Christian family, who will care for me and my horse without charge."

"Come in," said the man, "I'm a member of the Christian church of this place, and you may stay with me." So he had found a friend at the very first. Who do you think led him there? That evening the man told him that Elder Pearl was going to preach next Sunday.

"Elder Pearl!" exclaimed James White; "why, I know him," and he felt he was more than ever among friends. He told his new friend what he was out for, to give the message of Jesus' coming in 1844, and as he told him something of the truth, the man's heart warmed, and he said he would arrange for him to give some lectures in the schoolhouse. This he did, and Elder Pearl, whom Mr. White found next day, stayed with him and helped him.

But there seemed a good opening in the school district a mile east of the city, where he was invited to come and give lectures. So within a week we find him out there. There was a good interest. So many wanted to hear, that the school-house was packed, and though it was winter, many stood outside at the open windows to listen. A good many, of course, did not want to hear the message, and were bound to break the meetings up.

A Universalist editor was brought to oppose, and after young Mr. White had finished his first lecture, this Universalist wanted the people to stay and hear him tell how it all wasn't so. But it was late; and besides, James White, knowing how inexperienced he was, was afraid he could not stand up against a learned man like this editor. He was not afraid the truth could not win, but that he did not know enough of the truth to show it. So he told the people he would not keep them, and he left. All but a few rough fellows went with him, leaving the Universalist almost alone. This made him angry, and he had those ruffians agree to break up the meeting the next night.

When it came time to go to the meeting, Mr. White's friends came and told him there was a mob of at least three hundred around the schoolhouse, and that they would kill him. He went by himself and prayed, and then he felt that the Lord would protect him if he would go. His friends went with him.

They found the schoolhouse filled with women, all the windows out, and hundreds of men around the house. Amid yells and catcalls, he pressed through the fear-stricken company within, up to the desk. The Universalist stood near the desk, and he said, "Your meeting will be broken up, because you acted as you did last night."

"Very well, sir," responded James White, "if it is the will of God."

He stood up and prayed, not daring to close his eyes, for the angry Universalist seemed ready to strike him. A snowball whistled by his head, and spattered on the wall behind.

He read the text from Second Peter which prophesies of the destruction of the world, and began to tell the people about it. But the mob were yelling, snowballs were flying, very few could hear him, his Bible and his clothes were wet with the melted fragments of the snowballs that burst on the walls around.

So he closed his Bible, and raising his voice above the noise of the mob, he began to describe the terrible scenes of the judgment day. God gave him a wonderful sight of those scenes, gave him language to describe them, and power of voice to make himself heard.

"Repent and be converted," he cried, "that your sins may be blotted out, or you will drink of the wrath of God. Turn to Christ, and get ready for His coming, or in a little from this, on rocks and mountains you will call in vain. You scoff now, but you will pray then."

The mob grew quiet. Putting his hand into his pocket, James White brought out a big nail which had been thrown at him and hit him on the forehead the night before.

"Some poor sinner cast this spike at me last evening," he said. "God pity him. The worst wish I have for him is that he is at this moment as happy as I am. Why should I resent this insult when my Master had them driven through His hands?" and stepping back, he raised his arms, and placed them on the wall behind him, like one hanging on a cross.

The Spirit of God struck the hearts of that great company. Some shrieked, others groaned. "Hark, hark!" many cried.

Out of the confusion the young preacher's voice was rising clear, telling of the love of God, and calling on sinners to come to Him. The people sobbed and cried, while he still talked to them. None were cursing or yelling now.

"Who are willing to seek Christ," he asked, "and with me suffer persecution and be ready for His coming? Who in this crowd wish me to pray for them, that this may be their happy lot? As many as do, please rise."

From all over the house they rose to their feet, nearly a hundred of them. It was late, and the young preacher was hoarse and weary. He prayed for them, and then, taking his chart and Bible, he stepped down and went out through the quiet crowd.

As he passed out of the door, someone stepped up and locked arms with him, to guard him through the mob. He did not know the man, though somehow his noble, commanding face seemed familiar. Not one touched him as he passed through their midst. As soon as he was clear of the crowd, he turned to speak to his guard; but he was gone. Prom that evening he never found out who he was, nor where he went, nor how he left him. Was it not an angel sent from God to protect him? So in the very last days will angels, appearing as men, defend God's people from their enemies who would kill them.

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