le.
At the end of the sermon alms were invited for the support of the
minister and the propagation of such a gospel as he had preached. With
a mixture of pride and humility old Issachar descended the gallery
stairs and walked up the aisle, and, taking the crucifix from his
breast, planted it upon the altar.

"There," he said, "if your sect asserts the sentiments of this sermon,
you are entitled to this rich image. I am repaid for its possession by
a son of Gentile parentage whose obedience has been the delight of my
old years, and for the gift God has given me in him, I tender you
this counterfeit of Jesus nailed on the Roman scaffold."

The congregation gazed a minute at the golden cross. Ireful laughter
broke forth, followed by rage.

"The pagan! The papist! The Turk! The idolater!" they exclaimed. "He
mocks the memory of our Saviour on Christmas morning! Out with him!"

The Jew recovered the crucifix and put it beneath his mantle. He
vouchsafed no reply except a scornful "Ha! ha! ha!" and with this he
strode out of the Methodist meeting, rejoined his boatmen, and
returned to the island of Chincoteague.

Years passed, and the Jew grew very feeble. He had lasted his
fourscore and ten years, and prosperity had attended him through all,
and children loved him; but, true to his first and only fondness, his
heart was ever across the sea, where gentle Abraham, studiously intent
amongst the Rabbis, communicated with his father by every mail and
raised the old man's mind to a height of serious appreciation which
greed and commerce had never given him. Although hungering for his
boy, Issachar forebore to disturb young Abraham's studies until a
bitter illness came to him, and in his gloom and solitude his great
want burst from his lips, and he said aloud:

"Almighty Father! What will it avail to these old bones if the Temple
be rebuilded, and I die without placing my hands on the eyelids of my
boy and blessing him in Thy name? I will pluck from this Christian
image the last jewel and dispose of it, that he may return and place
his hands in mine, and receive my benediction, and gladden me with his
gratitude."

The image was therefore wholly separated from the cross. Nothing
remained but the figure in gold of that bloody Pillory on which He
died on whom two hundred millions of human beings rely for
intercession with their Creator and Destiny.

The days seemed months to the Jew of Chincoteague. The negroes
gathered roun