I did not care to discuss that point with him, and so merely answered,

"The beginnings of spiritual life are as the beginnings of natural

life. The babe is born in feebleness, and we must wait through the

periods of infancy, childhood and youth, before we can have the strong

man ready for the burden and heat of the day, or full-armed for the

battle. If Mr. Gray is in the first effort to lead a Christian life,

that is something. He will grow wiser and better in time, I hope."

"There is vast room for improvement," said the merchant. "In my eyes he

is, at this time, only a hypocritical pretender. I hope, for the sake

of the world and the church both, that his new associates will make

something better out of him."

I went away, pretty much of the merchant's opinion. My next meeting

with Mr. Gray was in the shop of a mechanic to whom he had sold a bill

of goods some months previously. He had called to collect a portion of

the amount which remained unpaid. The mechanic was not ready for him.

"I am sorry, Mr. Gray," he began, with some hesitation of manner.

"Sorry for what?" sharply interrupted Mr. Gray.

"Sorry that I have not the money to settle your bill. I have been

disappointed----"

"I don't want that old story. You promised to be ready for me to-day,

didn't you?" And Mr. Gray knit his brows, and looked angry and

imperative.

"Yes, I promised. But----"

"Then keep your promise. No man has a right to break his word. Promises

are sacred things, and should be kept religiously."

"If my customers had kept their promises to me there would have been no

failure in mine to you," answered the poor mechanic.

"It is of no use to plead other men's failings in justification of your

own. You said the bill should be settled to-day, and I calculated upon

it. Now, of all things in the world, I hate trifling. I shall not call

again, sir!"

"If you were to call forty times, and I hadn't the money to settle your

account, you would call in vain," said the mechanic, showing

considerable disturbance of mind.

"You needn't add insult to wrong." Mr. Gray's countenance reddened, and

he looked angry.

"If there is insult in the case it is on your part, not mine," retorted

the mechanic, with more feeling. "I am not a digger of gold out of the

earth, nor a coiner of money. I must be paid for my work before I can

pay the bills I owe. It was not enough that I told you of the failure

of my customers to meet their engagements----"

"You've no business to have such customers," broke in Mr. Gray. "No

right to take my goods and sell them to men who are not honest enough

to pay their bills."

"One of them is your own son," replied the mechanic, goaded beyond

endurance. "His bill is equal to half of yours. I have sent for the

amount a great many times, but still he puts me off with excuses. I

will send it to you next time."

This was thrusting home with a sharp sword, and the vanquished Mr. Gray

retreated from the battle-field, bearing a painful wound.

"That wasn't right in me, I know," said the mechanic, as Gray left his

shop. "I'm sorry, now, that I said it. But he pressed me too closely. I

am but human."

"He is a hard, exacting, money-loving man," was my remark.

"They tell me he has become a Christian," said the mechanic. "Has got

religion--been converted. Is that so?"

"It is commonly reported; but I think common report must be in error.

St. Paul gives patience, forbearance, long-suffering, meekness,

brotherly kindness, and charity as some of the Christian graces. I do

not see them in this man. Therefore, common report must be in error."

"I have paid him a good many hundreds of dollars since I opened my shop

here," said the mechanic, with the manner of one who felt hurt. "If I

am a poor, hard-working man, I try to be honest. Sometimes I get a

little behind hand, as I am new, because people I work for don't pay up

as they should. It happened twice before when I wasn't just square with

Mr. Gray, and he pressed down very hard upon me, and talked just as you

heard him to-day. He got his money, every dollar of it; and he will get

his money now. I did think, knowing that he had joined the church and

made a profession of religion, that he would bear a little patiently

with me this time. That, as he had obtained forgiveness, as alleged, of

his sins towards heaven, he would be merciful to his fellow-man. Ah,

well! These things make us very sceptical about the honesty of men who

call themselves religious. My experience with 'professors' has not been

very encouraging. As a general thing I find them quite as greedy for

gain as other men. We outside people of the world get to be very

sharp-sighted. When a man sets himself up to be of better quality than

we, and calls himself by a name significant of heavenly virtue, we

judge him, naturally, by his own standard, and watch him very closely.

If he remain as hard, as selfish, as exacting, and as eager after money

as before, we do not put much faith in his profession, and are very apt

to class him with hypocrites. His praying, and fine talk about faith,

and heavenly love, and being washed from all sin, excite in us contempt

rather than respect. We ask for good works, and are never satisfied

with anything else. By their fruits ye shall know them."

On the next Sunday I saw Mr. Gray in church. My eyes were on him when

he entered. I noticed that all the lines of his face were drawn down,

and that the whole aspect and bearing of the man were solemn and

devotional. He moved to his place with a slow step, his eyes cast to

the floor. On taking his seat, he leaned his head on the pew in front

of him, and continued for nearly a minute in prayer. During the

services I heard his voice in the singing; and through the sermon, he

maintained the most fixed attention. It was communion Sabbath; and he

remained, after the congregation was dismissed, to join in the holiest

act of worship.

"Can this man be indeed self-deceived?" I asked myself, as I walked

homeward. "Can he really believe that heaven is to be gained by pious

acts alone? That every Sabbath evening he can pitch his tent a day's

march nearer heaven, though all the week he have failed in the

commonest offices of neighborly love?"

It so happened, that I had many opportunities for observing Mr. Gray,

who, after joining the church, became an active worker in some of the

public and prominent charities of the day. He contributed liberally in

many cases, and gave a good deal of time to the prosecution of

benevolent enterprises, in which men of some position were concerned.

But, when I saw him dispute with a poor gardener who had laid the sods

in his yard, about fifty cents, take sixpence off of a weary strawberry

woman, or chaffer with his boot-black over an extra shilling, I could

not think that it was genuine love for his fellow-men that prompted his

ostentatious charities.

In no instance did I find any better estimation of him in business

circles; for his religion did not chasten the ardor of his selfish love

of advantage in trade; nor make him more generous, nor more inclined to

help or befriend the weak and the needy. Twice I saw his action in the

case of unhappy debtors, who had not been successful in business. In

each case, his claim was among the smallest; but he said more unkind

things, and was the hardest to satisfy, of any man among the creditors.

He assumed dishonest intention at the outset, and made that a plea for

the most rigid exaction; covering his own hard selfishness with

offensive cant about mercantile honor, Christian integrity, and

religious observance of business contracts. He was the only man among

all the creditors, who made his church membership a prominent

thing--few of them were even church-goers--and the only man who did not

readily make concessions to the poor, down-trodden debtors.

"Is he a Christian?" I asked, as I walked home in some depression of

spirits, from the last of these meetings. And I could but answer

No--for to be a Christian is to be Christ-like.

"As ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." This is

the divine standard. "Ye must be born again," leaves to us no latitude

of interpretation. There must be a death of the old, natural, selfish

loves, and a new birth of spiritual affections. As a man feels, so will

he act. If the affections that rule his heart be divine affections, he

will be a lover of others, and a seeker of their good. He will not be a

hard, harsh, exacting man in natural things, but kind, forbearing,

thoughtful of others, and yielding. In all his dealings with men, his

actions will be governed by the heavenly laws of justice and judgment.

He will regard the good of his neighbor equally with his own. It is in

the world where Christian graces reveal themselves, if they exist at

all. Religion is not a mere Sunday affair, but the regulator of a man's

conduct among his fellow-men. Unless it does this, it is a false

religion, and he who depends upon it for the enjoyment of heavenly

felicities in the next life, will find himself in miserable error.

Heaven cannot be earned by mere acts of piety, for heaven is the

complement of all divine affections in the human soul; and a man must

come into these--must be born into them--while on earth, or he can

never find an eternal home among the angels of God. Heaven is not

gained by doing, but by living.

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