“A dear friend of mine who was quite a lover of the chase, told me the
following story: ‘Rising early one morning,’ he said, ‘I heard the
baying of a score of deerhounds in pursuit of their quarry. Looking away
to a broad, open field in front of me, I saw a young fawn making its
way across, and giving signs, moreover, that its race was well-nigh run.
Reaching the rails of the enclosure, it leaped over and crouched within
ten feet from where I stood. A moment later two of the hounds came
over, when the fawn ran in my direction and pushed its head between my
legs. I lifted the little thing to my breast, and, swinging round and
round, fought off the dogs. I felt, just then, that all the dogs in the
West could not, and should not capture that fawn after its weakness had
appealed to my strength.’ So is it, when human helplessness appeals to
Almighty God. Well do I remember when the hounds of sin were after my
soul, until, at last, I ran into the arms of Almighty God.” —A. C. DIXON.