ddle of the road.

"'Hallo!'

"Brother Blank drew up his horse, and says he:

"'What's wanting, my friend?'

"'I want you to just tumble down from that saddle, and pay toll,' says
the old sinner. 'No minister passes this corner without stopping to take
a thrashing from these.'

"Here the blacksmith held up two clinched fists, hard and black as
sledge-hammers.

"'No nonsense; but get off, I say,' he bellowed out.

"Brother Blank had a heavy whip in his hand, with a short plump lash,
which he began to play with.

"'Get down, I say!'

"Brother Blank got down and laid the bridle on the neck of his horse.

"'Now step out here and take it like a man,' says the blacksmith. 'The
last two ministers were such puny fellers, there was no fun in thrashing
them; but you're something worth while. Stand out, I say.'

"While he was talking, the fire-blowing wretch rolled up his red flannel
shirt-sleeves to the elbow, and went at Brother Blank with both fists.

"Now, sisters, Brother Blank is a true Christian--meek as a lamb in
prayer and persuasion, but the sight of that audacious old sinner riled
up the natural man in him awfully. He stepped back. His right arm swung
out, and that whip-lash curled round the fellow's bronzed neck like a
garter snake. Again and again the lash fell, now across the red face,
now across the naked arms, but generally left great red welts, like the
bars of a fiery gridiron, across his chest.

"Blind with the blows, and crazy with rage, the fellow struck out
fiercely, but the lash stung him at every point, and at last he was glad
to yell for quarters. Then it was that Brother Blank remembered that his
mission was to convert sinners.

"'Down upon your knees,' says he, pointing to the dusty road with his
whip--'down upon your knees, and pray the Lord to forgive your sins.'

"Down the fellow went, plump on his two knees, and down Brother Blank
went beside him right in the dust of the street; and the way he wrestled
for that blacksmith's soul was a lesson to all faltering Christians.

"'Lift those blood-shot eyes to Heaven and pray,' says he, and his voice
was tender with compassion.

"'I won't. Pray for me,' says the sinner.

"He did pray. All the old Adam had left Brother Blank's soul when he
laid down that whip. It was flooded now with the milk of human kindness.
In a voice, strong as his right arm and clear as his conscience, he
poured forth a petition to Heaven, so loud, so powerful, so