How Mr. Stringent Became Liberal.
Mr. Stringent was sixty years old—very old I should have called him when I was a child. He was “brought up” in a thrifty, commercial sort of a way. His father was a small, snug farmer; but as his wants were few, he was called “well to do in the world,” which, I suppose, means, “well to do for this world.” His children received a fair education, and were always among the best scholars. No better cows and no better sheep were owned in those parts, than those owned by old Mr. Stringent. His maxim was “to keep what you have got, and get what you can.” This maxim was inculcated most faithfully into the minds of his children. In process of time, old Stringent died, and fortunately such men carry nothing with them. The children grew up and were scattered abroad, and I have nothing to say about them, except that they were all keen to gain this world. I am to speak of his youngest son, Simon, who took “the old place,” that is, the farm, agreeing to pay off his brothers and sisters their share as fast as he could earn it. And now Simon, in his youth, was married and settled at “Craig’s Valley,” as the farm was called. He had to support himself and his young family, and yearly to pay a good round sum toward his debt. Early and late he toiled. Carefully and anxiously he saved everything possible. His expenses were the lowest possible; everything went to “the debt.” And if there was anything Simon dreaded more than another, it was a call for charity, or, as he termed it, “the everlasting contribution box.” The announcement that “a collection would be made next Sabbath,” would invariably make him unwell and unable to attend chapel. Indeed, so delicate was his constitution, that once in a while when he had been caught, he would invariably have the nose-bleed, and be compelled to go out before the box reached him. But years passed on, and his habits grew strong, and his debts grew feeble, until at the end of fifteen years, he had paid off every debt, and owned a large farm, free from every incumbrance. But now a new chapter in his life was to be experienced. There was an outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the people. Very many sang the new song. Several of the children of Simon were among the new-born children of light. Simon was the last to become interested. He was the last to feel his sins, and he struggled and resisted, a long, long time, before he yielded to the conditions and demands of Christ. Then he was very slow to take up the crosses as they lay in his path. He was afraid to commit himself. He was slow to erect the altar of prayer in his house. He was slow to confess Christ before the world. But he battled all of these difficulties, and overcame them, because he really had Christian principles in his soul. But now he met a difficulty which seemed insurmountable, unexpected, and very trying. He found that now his brethren and his Bible took it for granted that he would be liberal. How could he, who had never given away a shilling in a year, be expected to give tens and even hundreds? How hard to understand the Christian fact, that “none of us liveth to himself.” He tried to convince himself that a man’s first duty is to provide for his own family; and conscience told him he had been doing nothing else all his life. He tried to convince himself that “charity begins at home,” and conscience told him he wanted it to stop there also. When he read his Bible, it seemed as if he was always stumbling upon such passages as these: “Freely ye have received, freely give.” One day he sat a long time motionless, trying to convince himself that he had not received much. “Why, what little I have, I earned myself, by hard labor. Pray, what have I received?” And then conscience would begin her whispers: “Why, Simon Stringent, you received a good constitution—you were never sick a day in your life.” “That is true.” “And you received a shrewd mind—you know how to manage and make money; and you have received a great deal of sunshine, and a great many rains on your farm, and a great increase of your flocks and cattle, and you have received a large, healthy family, no deaths in it, and you have received a long life already, and hope for more; and you have received the Sabbath and its blessings; and you have, as you hope, received the pardon of your sins, and hope of life eternal through God’s dear Son. Received! Why, you have received everything; it has been nothing but receive, and now you must give.” O Simon! how hard you breathe! how the perspiration stands on your brow! Had he been dreaming? or had the Spirit of God been teaching him? The very next day, Simon, or as he was called now, Mr. Stringent, had a loud and tender appeal from the missionary field, and now a collection was to be made, not in the chapel, where every man could dodge, or conceal his parsimony, but by an open subscription in black and white. The collector was to come around at once. Then it was that the dialogue, which is said to have taken place between Mr. Stringent and the devil, occurred. “How much must I give?” said Mr. Stringent. “As little as you can, and be respectable,” said the devil. “I am very far from being rich,” said Mr. Stringent. “You are the richest man in the church,” said conscience. “Suppose I give five pounds.” “Fully enough,” said the tempter. “Freely ye have received, freely give,” said conscience. “Remember your great family, their schooling, and clothing, and the furniture and new carriage which you need,” said the tempter. “I shall put down ten pounds,” said Stringent. “You are beside yourself! Why, they will expect you to do in like proportion for everything hereafter. There is no end to these calls,” said the tempter. “I shall put down twenty pounds,” said Stringent. “Yes, but do consider,” said the tempter; “you know your taxes are awful this year; and you know your oats are very light, and they sell by weight, and not by the bushel, as they once did; and the drought has injured your grass, and your fruit will be next to nothing.” “Yes,” said conscience, “but your corn is magnificent, and so are your potatoes; and if hay is light, the price is heavy, and your workmen never earned as much as they do this year; and the shipment of timber, which was growing long before you were born, has brought an enormous price.” “I shall put down fifty pounds.” “Oh! Mr. Stringent! Mr. Stringent! you are nearly crazy, to throw away money so! Why, sir, with that sum you could buy two young cows, or ten first-rate—” “Get out, get out, you tempter of my soul! I shall put down one hundred pounds this time, and if you don’t let me alone, I declare I shall double it!” And Mr. Stringent did put it down; and he felt so much better, and grew so strong under it, that it was well understood between him and the devil, ever after, that if he was tempted, he would double his charities. And so well did he abide by it, that he became one of the most liberal men in the country; and when he went around to collect for charities, as he often did—the most liberal man always being the best collector—and when his brethren would make excuses, he would shake his head, and say, “I only wish you could have such dialogues with the devil as I have had.”—The Church.