"Hundreds of
emigrants die daily; and if Stephen Ayres had not providentally
come among us, not a soul would have been alive at this moment in
Montreal."
"And who is Stephen Ayres?" said I.
"God only knows," was the grave reply. "There was a man sent from
heaven, and his name was John."
"But I thought this man was called Stephen?"
"Ay, so he calls himself; but 'tis certain that he is not of the
earth. Flesh and blood could never do what he has done - the hand of
God is in it. Besides, no one knows who he is, or whence he comes.
When the cholera was at the worst, and the hearts of all men stood
still with fear, and our doctors could do nothing to stop its
progress, this man, or angel, or saint, suddenly made his appearance
in our streets. He came in great humility, seated in an ox-cart,
and drawn by two lean oxen and a rope harness. Only think of that!
Such a man in an OLD OX-CART, drawn by ROPE HARNESS! The thing
itself was a miracle. He made no parade about what he could do, but
only fixed up a plain pasteboard notice, informing the public that
he possessed an infallible remedy for the cholera, and would engage
to cure all who sent for him."
"And was he successful?"
"Successful!
