wn into fine gold for the
old man who repented before it was too late. And I reckon he will be
sitting somewhere upon the dimmer outskirts of Paradise most of the
time, with grandly-folded wings, holding the thing in his hands instead
of wearing it on his head; and he will be recalling those for whom the
stones stand, with a tender homesickness for them. For even in Heaven
he will be lonely without them, his dear, straying sheep.

Always the people we served were poor, and, of course, we were a trifle
poorer. The circuit rider is not only a priest to his people, but he
is a good deal of a mendicant besides. William rarely returned from an
appointment or from visiting among his flock that he did not bring with
him some largess of their kindness. This made pastoral visiting an
amiable form of foraging and had its effect on character. We were
continually struggling against the beggar instinct that is dormant in
every hopelessly poor man. We were tempted within and without.
Sometimes we could not live on the salary paid, neither could we refuse
the gifts offered without giving offense. If it was winter he would
come back with the pockets of his great-coat stuffed with sausage, or
there would be a tray of backbone, souse and spareribs under the buggy
seat. If it was summer the wide back would be filled with fruit. One
old lady on the Raburn Gap Circuit, famous for her stinginess, never
varied her gift with the seasons. It was always dried peaches with the
skins on them. But, as a rule, we received the very best they had to
give, and with a fragrant openheartedness that sweetens memory. This
is the glory of the itinerancy: if the preacher sees the worst of the
people, knows their faults and weaknesses better than any other man, he
also knows their virtues better.

Once, when we were far up in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains,
where the people had no money at all except that which they received
for a few loads of tanbark and with which they paid their taxes, we
came to desperate straits. Now, it so happened that year that the
women in a rich city church sent out Christmas boxes containing
clothing and other necessities. We were fortunate enough to receive
one of these, and I flourished forth in singularly fashionable garments
for a season, while William made a splendid appearance in the cast-off
dinner suit of a certain rich but wicked Congressman. The swaggering
cut of the coat, however, gave almost