door congregation would be noticed--there certainly wasn't a full
congregation of modest mechanics in the vestibule of which Hay spoke,
and yet, who could tell how many more were anxious and troubled on the
subject of their eternal welfare.

What a pity it was that those working-men who wished to repair to the
sanctuary could not have steady work and full pay! If he had only known
all this early in the morning, he did not know but he might have hired
him at three dollars; though, really, was a man to blame for doing his
best in the labor market? "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." Gracious! he
could almost declare he heard the excited carpenter's voice delivering
that text. What _had_ brought that text into his head just now?--he had
never thought of it before.

The Deacon rolled and tossed on his bed, and the subject of his
conversation with the carpenter tormented him so he could not sleep. Of
one thing he was certain, and that was that the reform of the Church at
Pawkin Centre was not to be relied on in an extremity, and was not such
hungering and thirsting after righteousness an extreme case?--had he
ever really known many such! If Hay only had means, the problem would
afford its own solution. The good Deacon solemnly declared to himself
that if Hay could give good security, he (the Deacon) would try to lend
him the money.

But even this (to the Deacon) extraordinary concession was unproductive
of sleep. "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord." There! he
could hear that indignant carpenter again. What an unsatisfactory
passage that was, to be sure! If it would only read the other way--it
didn't seem a bit business-like the way it stood. And yet, as the Deacon
questioned himself there in the dark, he was forced to admit that he had
a very small balance--even of loans--to his credit in the hands of the
Lord. He had never lent to the Lord except in his usual business
manner--as small a loan as would be accepted, on as extensive
collaterals as he could exact. Oh, why did people ever forsake the
simple raiment of their forefathers, and robe themselves in garments
grievous in price, and stumbling-blocks in the path of their fellow-men?

But sleep failed even to follow this pious reflection. Suppose--only
suppose, of course--that he were to give--lend, that is--lend Hay money
enough to dress his family fit for church--think what a terrible lot of
money it would take! A common neat suit for a man would cost at lea