The Minister and the Hams.
I HAD the following narrative from a most reliable source, and as near as may be, will give it in the language of the narrator: I knew a man who, until past the meridian of life, manifested in all his transactions a mean, miserly spirit. Money was his god. He was proverbially "a mean man." Between forty and fifty years of age, he became a subject of "sovereign grace." His eyes were opened to see with great distinctness the truth of that word, "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." In a word, he was truly converted. At the period of which I speak, he was a wealthy farmer, on one of our rich prairies. He united with the people of God, he confessed, and most deeply deplored the sin of covetousness. He promised, with Divine help, to "live no longer unto himself." He was sincere in his promise and his purpose. Little did the poor man know himself, the power of habit, of temptation, or of the conflict before him between the "old and the new man." As was then the custom in the Methodist church in the country, and is, to some extent, at this day, the minister in charge was in the habit of receiving his dues in provisions, &c. Soon after "Old Covetous" united with the class, the preacher got out of meat; so he "harnessed up," and rode over to Bro. C.'s house. "Good morning; glad to see you; won't you 'light'?" "No, thank you. Wife says we are out of meat, and I thought"— (Old man.) "Out of meat, are ye?" (New man.) "Well, I'm glad to hear it; it will do me good to supply you. Go to my smoke-house yonder, and take the best ham you can find—mind and take the biggest." On went the preacher, and soon returned, bearing a ham weighing twenty pounds. He passed on to his wagon. (Old man in his heart, solus.) "You old fool! that ham weighs twenty pounds! Hams are scarce—worth one shilling per pound." (New man, solus.) "God loveth the cheerful giver." "What shall it profit a man, though he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" O God, forgive me! "Get thee behind me, Satan." Here, Mr., come back! come back! "Now," said he, "go again to my smoke-house, and this time get two hams. Get the very best—mind you get rousers." Soon he returned, bearing forty pounds more of the precious meat; and then came over the poor man again the spirit of covetousness. (Old man.) "Well, you are a fool! You will die in the poor-house yet! Forty, sixty pounds—worth eight dollars! Eight dollars gone slick!" (New man.) "Honor the Lord with thy substance. Give, and it shall be given unto you. Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; though I fall, I shall rise again." "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." Oh! I am—I am in the valley. Poor man, he was, and like Bunyan's Christian, he sheathed his sword, and cried to him who was "able and willing"—"Lord, save me." (New man.) "Here, Mr., come back! come back!" Now his manly form trembled! The water stood in his eyes, and then like a little child, he wept and sobbed as he told his minister of the warfare within. "And now Mr. Devil," said he, "If you don't quit this business, I'll give away every ham I've got in the smoke-house!" Then "Apollyon spread his wings and left him for a season."—Sel.