to call on him; but
his modesty prevented him until hunger forced him to change his mind.
After starving for three days, he made up his mind to accept that
invitation, and reveal his condition to the well-to-do minister of
this well-to-do church. He was poorly clad. It was a very cold winter
day. The streets were covered with slush and snow. On his way he met
an old woman with a shawl around her, a bedraggled dress and wet feet.

"My good woman," said Dowling, "you must be very cold, indeed, in this
condition."

"Sir," she answered, "I am cold; but I am also starving of hunger.
Could you afford me one cent to get some bread?"

"God bliss ye, dear friend," he said, "I have not been able to taste
food for three days myself; but I am now on the way to the house of a
good friend, a good servant of the Lord; and if I get any help, I will
share it with you. I am a poor tinker, but work has been very slack
this last week. I have not earned enough to pay for my lodging."

The diary gives all the details, the corner of the street where he met
her, the hour of the day.

A servant ushered him into the parlour of his "good friend, the
servant of the Lord." Presently the reverend doctor came down,
somewhat irritated, and, without shaking hands, said:

"Dowling, I know I have asked you several times to call, but I am a
very busy man and you should have let me know. I simply cannot see you
this morning. I have an address to prepare for the opening of a
mission and I haven't the time."

"No handshake--no Christian greeting," records the tinker's diary; and
the account closes with these words: "Dear Lord, do not let the demon
of uncharitableness enter into my poor heart."

He became a colporteur for a tract society, and was given as territory
the towns on the east side of the Hudson River. Tract selling in this
generation is probably the most thankless, profitless work that any
human being could undertake. The poor old man was burdened with a
heavy bundle of the worst literary trash of a religious kind ever put
out of a publishing house. He was to get twenty-five per cent. on the
sales; so he shouldered his kit, with his heart full of enthusiasm,
and began the summer journey on foot. He carried his diary with him,
and although the entries are very brief, they are to the point.

"August 29. Sold nothing. No money for bread or lodging. _God is
good._ Night came and I was _so_ tired and hungry. I went into a grove
and with a pr