More Than We Want,

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 6, 1865

More Than We Want,

And All for Nothing.

"So you won't give me anything!"

"You needn't have put it in that way; I've got nothing to give," said Allan Barrow. "Nobody gives to me. I get nothing but what I work for and pay for, and it's rather hard to come upon such folks; you should go to them as you may say that gets plenty for nothing, and have more than they want."

And old Allan Barrow leaned both his elbows on his garden fence, and turned away from the person he spoke to.

The person he spoke to was a grayheaded man, in workman's clothes. He carried a little book in one hand, and in the other held a pencil, ready to write.

"You have told me of two sorts of people,"

said Silas Pyne, "that I don't expect to meet with—those that have nothing but what they pay for, and those that have more than they want."

"Very likely," said Allan; "but there's some of both in the world, for all that; I've got nothing but what I pay for, but I haven't got more than they want."

Silas smiled and shook his head.

"What d'ye shake your head at?" asked Allan, gruffly.

"Why at the mistake you're in, friend," answered Silas, "in thinking you pay for everything."

"Make it out it's a mistake, and I'll give you leave to put me down five shillings in your book," said Allan.

"Thank you," said Silas, "but before I begin to do it, will you just give me a draught from your well? It's the best water anywhere about."

"That it is," answered Allan, readily getting a cup for him. "And it's a prime thing for me, that can't drink much of anything else."

"Aye; what would we do without water," said Silas, taking a deep draught, "when you come to think how it comes into all the things that keep life together."

"Oh, it's wonderful useful," replied Allan, "may be the most useful thing in life."

"As to that," said Silas, "we couldn't live in it, though we couldn't live well without it. Air, good fresh air, is the thing we couldn't by any means do without."

"And for that," said Allan, "you'll never have finer than this as blows over the common. I take it, it's worth ten years of life to be in a good air."

"You are right there," said Silas, "and I should say you're a proof of it; you look as firm as a rock, and as red as a rose."

"Not amiss," said Allan; "never knew much about sickness."

"And yet you've lived many years," said Silas.

"Just up to threescore and ten," answered Allan, nodding.

Silas began to write in his book.

"What are you putting down?" asked Allan.

"Your name for five shillings," said Silas; "didn't you say that I should have it if I could prove that you had things more than you want, that you neither worked nor pay for?"

"Yes, but you've never begun to do that yet," said Allan.

"What do you pay for air?" asked Silas.

"Pooh! nonsense!" said Allan.

"For water?" said Silas.

"Pooh!" said Allan again.

"For health, and having been brought through threescore years and ten?" continued Silas.

"Oh, as to them—of course we never count up the things that God gives us," said Allan; "I wasn't thinking of them."

"No, friend; few people do think of them," said Silas. "The best blessings—I mean those belonging to this life—are such as cannot be bought with silver or gold; and they are freely given to the rich and poor without any difference—yes, and more than they want—and are taken as matters of course, without any praise or thanks to the Giver. Come, now, I have shown you that you don't pay for the things that you couldn't live without, and I could tell you of many more—can't you find in your heart to give something to give poor sinners, young and old, a knowledge of the better blessings of salvation through Jesus Christ? Surely, such a thank-offering would be but becoming."

"Well," said Allan, putting his hand in his pocket, "I'm not against giving you a trifle, but I didn't know you was going to talk that way, at what I said about the five shillings."

"Name your own sum," said Silas. "Give what you will, it must be trifling, looking at what you have received. I've told you of four blessings that the Bank couldn't buy; aren't they worth a shilling apiece? "

Old Allan smiled, and taking out two half crowns, "Well, and there's a fifth that's worth another; and a friend that is faithful to mind one of one's duty; so you needn't scratch out my name; here's the five shillings."—Cottager.