ore he would think he could afford one. Now, it is to be
confessed the world is not always grateful to those who thus devote
themselves to its interests; and Mr. H. had as much occasion to know
this as any other man. People got so used to his giving, that his bounty
became as common and as necessary as that of a higher Benefactor, "who
maketh his sun to rise upon the evil and the good, and sendeth rain upon
the just and the unjust;" and so it came to pass that people took them,
as they do the sunshine and the rain, quite as matters of course, not
thinking much about them when they came, but particularly apt to scold
when they did not come.

But Mr. H. never cared for that. He did not give for gratitude; he did
not give for thanks, nor to have his name published in the papers as one
of six who had given fifty thousand to do so and so; but he gave because
it was _in_ him to give, and we all know that it is an old rule in
medicine, as well as morals, that what is _in_ a man must be brought
out. Then, again, he had heard it reported that there had been One of
distinguished authority who had expressed the opinion that it was "_more
blessed to give than to receive_," and he very much believed
it--believed it because the One who said it must have known, since for
man's sake _he_ once gave away ALL.

And so, when some thriftless, distant relation, whose debts he had paid
a dozen times over, gave him an overhauling on the subject of
liberality, and seemed inclined to take him by the throat for further
charity, he calmed himself down by a chapter or two from the New
Testament and half a dozen hymns, and then sent him a good, brotherly
letter of admonition and counsel, with a bank note to enforce it; and
when some querulous old woman, who had had a tenement of him rent free
for three or four years, sent him word that if he didn't send and mend
the water pipes she would move right out, he sent and mended them.
People said that he was foolish, and that it didn't do any good to do
for ungrateful people; but Mr. H. knew that it did _him_ good. He loved
to do it, and he thought also on some words that ran to this effect: "Do
good and lend, _hoping for nothing again_." He literally hoped for
nothing again in the way of reward, either in this world or in heaven,
beyond the present pleasure of the deed; for he had abundant occasion to
see how favors are forgotten in this world; and as for another, he had
in his own soul a standard of ben