and declared the man to be a
fool. But the most bitter of "Cobbler" Horn's critics were certain of his
wealthy brethren who seemed to regard his abundant liberality as a
personal affront.

There were many wealthy members in Mr. Durnford's church. The minister
sometimes thought, in his inmost soul, that his church would have been but
little poorer, in any sense of the word, for the loss of some of the rich
men whose names were on its roll. With all their wealth, many of them were
not "rich towards God." But Mr. Durnford was circumspect. It was his
endeavour, without failing in his duty, either to his Divine Master, or to
these gilded sheep of his, to make what use of them he might in connection
with his sacred work.

There was little, it is true, to be got out of these wealthy men but their
money, and they could not be persuaded to part with much of that; but the
minister did not give them much rest.

One pleasant spring evening, Mr. Durnford set out on one of what he called
his "financial tours" amongst this section of his members. The first
house to which he went--and, as it proved, the last--was that of a very
rich brewer, who was one of the main pillars of the Church. There were
other members of Mr. Durnford's flock who were of the same trade. This was
not gratifying to Mr. Durnford; but what could he do? The brewers were
blameless in their personal behaviour, regular in their attendance in the
sanctuary, and exact in their fulfilment of the conditions of church
membership; and he could not unchurch them merely because they were
brewers. If he began there, it would be difficult to tell where he ought
to stop. Nor did he scorn their gifts of money to the cause of God. He was
pleased that they were willing to devote some portion of their gains to so
good a purpose; his regret was that the portion was so small.

Mr. Durnford did not hesitate to tell his rich members what he conceived
to be the just claims of the cause of God upon their wealth; and, on the
evening of which we speak, he called first, for this purpose, on the
aforesaid brewer, Mr. Caske. This gentleman lived in a large, square,
old-fashioned, comfortable house, surrounded with its own grounds, which
were extensive and well laid out. The entire premises were encompassed
with a high brick wall, which might well have been supposed to hide a
workhouse or a prison, instead of the paradise it actually concealed.
Perhaps Mr. Caske had selected this secluded a