could get the ministers thoroughly interested in him, he would
have a good opportunity for comparing rates. The good men all wanted
Joe, for he was a rising young man, and could, if the Spirit moved him,
make handsome subscriptions to good purposes. So, in their zeal, they
soon regarded each other with jealous eyes, and reduced their respective
creeds to gossamer thinness. They agreed about grace being free, and Joe
accepted that much promptly, as he did _anything_ which could be had
without price. But Joe was a practical man, and though he found fault
with none of the doctrines talked at him, he yet hesitated to attach
himself to any particular congregation. He finally ascertained that the
Reverend Barzillai Driftwood's church had no debt, and that its
contributions to missions and other religious purposes were very small,
so Joe allowed himself to be gathered into the fine assortment of
crooked sticks which the Reverend Barzillai Driftwood was reserving unto
the day of burning.

Great was the rejoicing of the congregation at Joe's saving act, and
sincere was the sorrow of the other churches, who knew their own creeds
were less shaky. But in the saloon and on the street Joe's religious act
was discussed exclusively on its merits, and the results were such as
only special spiritual labor would remove. For no special change was
noticeable in Joe; on Sunday he abjured the world, but on Monday he made
things uncomfortable for the Widow Macnilty, whose husband had died in
the debt of Tackey & Gatter. A customer bought some gingham, on Joe's
assurance that the colors were fast, but the first washday failed to
confirm Joe's statement. The proprietor of the stage line between
Bungfield and Cleopas Valley traded horses with Joe, and was afterward
heard mentioning his new property in language far more scriptural than
proper.

Still, Joe was a church-member, and that was a patent of respectability.
And as he gained years, and building lots, and horses, and commenced
discounting notes, his respectability grew and waxed great in the minds
of the practical people of Bungfield. Even good women, real mothers in
Israel, could not help thinking, as they sorrowed over the sand in the
bottoms of their coffee-cups, and grew wrathful at "runney" flour bought
for "A 1 Superfine" of Tackey & Gatter, that Joe would make a valuable
husband. So thought some of the ladies of Bungfield, and as young ladies
who can endure the idea of such a man fo