INFLUENCE OF A PRAYING MOTHER.

From the New-York Evangelist.

The Bible begins the story of the Redeemer's mercy; but it is only a beginning. The whole history of redemption can never be said to be published, till every name on the pages of the book of life has been read, and the leadings of God's mysterious providence, in regard to each one, have been unfolded in eternity.

A few years since I was called from my study to see a stranger. He brought a letter from a friend in Ohio, which stated that he was "a man of the right stamp." His name was Joseph W. Barr, then a student at the Theological Seminary at Andover. He was out of health; had walked nearly thirty miles; and there was nothing very prepossessing in his first appearance. But a few hours' acquaintance only was necessary to discover that he was a man of a strong, well-balanced mind, of deep piety, and a breast full of benevolence. One great object of his visit was to restore his health, which had become impaired by study. But instead of lying upon the couch, taking gentle exercise and

light medicines," he hired himself out, for the vacation, as a carpenter; and a better or more diligent and faithful workman seldom entered the shop. He received high wages, and the family in which he resided can hardly speak of him, to this day, without tears. On leaving us he carried away a good stock of health; and more of the heart and good wishes, and pure substantial tokens of confidence from his christian friends, than if he had spent his time in any other way. While in my study one evening, I requested him to relate to me his christian experience, and the dealings of God in regard to his soul. He began at once, and did it with such simplicity and humility that I was compelled more than once to turn away my head to conceal my tears. I wrote down the account just as he had related it, as soon as he had left me. It is not merely a true account of his conversion, but, as nearly as possible, in his own words:

"Among my first recollections is the image of my sainted mother. We lived at the West, in what was then a howling wilderness, but is now the flourishing State of Ohio. My father was a minister and a missionary, and my mother was every way qualified to be his helper. My father was gone much from home in searching for the scattered sheep of Christ's fold, and could not do much towards forming my character. But my mother! she was an angel to me. We lived in a log-house, and had but one large room; of course she had no closet there. But there was a beautiful grove a little back of the house, and there, as early as I can remember any thing, I can remember that she took me by the hand and caused me to kneel by her side while she prayed aloud for my absent father and for me. At first, I hardly understood it; but soon learned that God, who dwelt far, far above those high trees, could hear her prayer, and was hearkening to her sweet voice. She used statedly to lead me there, and always laid her right hand on my head while she prayed; and feelings of deep awe always came over me. She never omitted this practice whilst she lived; and I there had distinct and correct impressions made as to my character, as well as to the character of God.

"She died when I was nine years old, and was buried near by. During the most giddy and wicked period of my life I could never forget these impressions. The grove is cut down now, but the spot seems a hallowed spot. Even since the grove has been gone, and since my mother's grave has become level with the surrounding ground, I have stood on this spot, and her meek image seemed to be before me, and her voice, tremulous with feelings, seemed to come again to my ears; and I have paused there in tears, chained by a remembrance of her faithfulness and her love. No legacy could she have left me half so precious, nor could her features have been more vividly and accurately left upon canvass than they are upon my memory.

"Many years after my mother's death, I was in the hey-day of youth, and in a course of sin truly dreadful. The restraints of conscience were broken, and there was little that could or did check me, except my early education. My mother had died

when I was a mere child, and my father was too far off to reach me otherwise than by his prayers. I well remember many seasons of deep conviction for sin, but which my stubborn heart resisted or stifled. One night at a ball, whither I went, as I should then have said, for rational and innocent amusement, my conscience was suddenly startled.

"I was introduced to a young lady for my partner who came from a distant section of the country. After the dance, in which we were partners, I entered into conversation with her respecting the place from which she came. She gave me many interesting particulars of that then newly-settled place, and among other things mentioned the late sickness of her father, and the many continued kindnesses and attentions of a Mr. Barr, a missionary; stating that Mr. Barr had been to see her father very frequently, and that she felt much attached to him. She knew not my name. I replied that Mr. Barr, the missionary, is my father.' She started as if from an adder. Your father! he your father! what would he say if he knew you were here?' Had a dagger been thrust into me I could not have felt the wound more deeply. It spoiled the evening for me. It ruined my peace; and, though I know not that it can be said to have been the means of my awakening from the sleep of sin, yet I am confident it planted a thorn in my conscience which was not taken out till I had bowed to God with a broken heart. The giving and receiving of this keen reproof were both, as it were, involuntary, and show that neither of our consciences could approve of the employment of that evening, if allowed to speak out without restraint.

"A few days after the ball I was present at a communion. At the table many of my near friends were found. The scene before me, and the thoughts of a future, eternal separation, affected me greatly. The sermon, too, reached my conscience; and I might, at the close of the services, be said to have been under strong convictions for sin. The same day a very devoted christian was accidentally thrown in my way. He began to address me on the subject of my salvation, without knowing any thing of my previous history or the state of my feelings at that time. Then my heart began to rise with a strength of bitterness which I never

"Among my first recollections is the image of my sainted mother. We lived at the West, in what was then a howling wilderness, but is now the flourishing State of Ohio. My father was a minister and a missionary, and my mother was every way qualified to be his helper. My father was gone much from home in searching for the scattered sheep of Christ's fold, and could not do much towards forming my character. But my mother! she was an angel to me. We lived in a log-house, and had but one large room; of course she had no closet there. But there was a beautiful grove a little back of the house, and there, as early as I can remember any thing, I can remember that she took me by the hand and caused me to kneel by her side while she prayed aloud for my absent father and for me. At first, I hardly understood it; but soon learned that God, who dwelt far, far above those high trees, could hear her prayer, and was hearkening to her sweet voice. She used statedly to lead me there, and always laid her right hand on my head while she prayed; and feelings of deep awe always came over me. She never omitted this practice whilst she lived; and I there had distinct and correct impressions made as to my character, as well as to the character of God.

"She died when I was nine years old, and was buried near by. During the most giddy and wicked period of my life I could never forget these impressions. The grove is cut down now, but the spot seems a hallowed spot. Even since the grove has been gone, and since my mother's grave has become level with the surrounding ground, I have stood on this spot, and her meek image seemed to be before me, and her voice, tremulous with feelings, seemed to come again to my ears; and I have paused there in tears, chained by a remembrance of her faithfulness and her love. No legacy could she have left me half so precious, nor could her features have been more vividly and accurately left upon canvass than they are upon my memory.

Many years after my mother's death, I was in the hey-day of youth, and in a course of sin truly dreadful. The restraints of conscience were broken, and there was little that could or did check me, except my early education. My mother had died

when I was a mere child, and my father was too far off to reach me otherwise than by his prayers. I well remember many seasons of deep conviction for sin, but which my stubborn heart resisted or stifled. One night at a ball, whither I went, as I should then have said, for rational and innocent amusement, my conscience was suddenly startled.

"I was introduced to a young lady for my partner who came from a distant section of the country. After the dance, in which we were partners, I entered into conversation with her respecting the place from which she came. She gave me many interesting particulars of that then newly-settled place, and among other things mentioned the late sickness of her father, and the many continued kindnesses and attentions of a Mr. Barr, a missionary; stating that Mr. Barr had been to see her father very frequently, and that she felt much attached to him. She knew not my name. I replied that Mr. Barr, the missionary, is my father.' She started as if from an adder. Your father! he your father! what would he say if he knew you were here?' Had a dagger been thrust into me I could not have felt the wound more deeply. It spoiled the evening for me. It ruined my peace; and, though I know not that it can be said to have been the means of my awakening from the sleep of sin, yet I am confident it planted a thorn in my conscience which was not taken out till I had bowed to God with a broken heart. The giving and receiving of this keen reproof were both, as it were, involuntary, and show that neither of our consciences could approve of the employment of that evening, if allowed to speak out without restraint.

"A few days after the ball I was present at a communion. At the table many of my near friends were found. The scene before me, and the thoughts of a future, eternal separation, affected me greatly. The sermon, too, reached my conscience; and I might, at the close of the services, be said to have been under strong convictions for sin. The same day a very devoted christian was accidentally thrown in my way. He began to address me on the subject of my salvation, without knowing any thing of my previous history or the state of my feelings at that time. Then my heart began to rise with a strength of bitterness which I never