ever stole anything, and I have felt very bad about it. I don't know
how it is. I am sure I didn't think once that I should ever come to be
what I am. But I took to drinking, and then to quarrelling. Since I
began to go down hill, everybody gives me a kick. You are the first man
who has ever offered me a helping hand. My wife is sickly, and my
children are starving. You have sent them many a meal, God bless you!
and yet I stole the hides from you, meaning to sell them the first
chance I could get. But I tell you the truth when I say it is the first
time I was ever a thief."

"Let it be the last, my friend," replied William Savery. "The secret
shall remain between ourselves. Thou art still young, and it is in thy
power to make up for lost time. Promise me that thou wilt not drink any
intoxicating liquor for a year, and I will employ thee to-morrow at good
wages. Perhaps we may find some employment for thy family also. The
little boy can at least pick up stones.--But eat a bit now, and drink
some hot coffee. Perhaps it will keep thee from craving anything
stronger to-night. Doubtless, thou wilt find it hard to abstain at
first; but keep up a brave heart, for the sake of thy wife and children,
and it will soon become easy. When thou hast need of coffee, tell Mary,
and she will always give it to thee."

The poor fellow tried to eat and drink, but the food seemed to choke
him. After an ineffectual effort to compose his excited feelings, he
bowed his head on the table, and wept like a child. After a while, he
ate and drank with good appetite; and his host parted with him for the
night with this kindly exhortation; "Try to do well, John; and thou wilt
always find a friend in me."

He entered into his employ the next day, and remained with him many
years, a sober, honest, and faithful man. The secret of the theft was
kept between them; but after John's death, William Savery sometimes told
the story, to prove that evil might be overcome with good.

This practical preacher of righteousness was likewise a great preacher
orally; if greatness is to be measured by the effect produced on the
souls of others. Through his ministry, the celebrated Mrs. Fry was first
excited to a lively interest in religion. When he visited England in
1798, she was Elizabeth Gurney, a lively girl of eighteen, rather fond
of dress and company. Her sister, alluding to the first sermon they
heard from William Savery, writes thus: "His voice and manner we