A TALK WITH THE MINISTER ABOUT MONEY.

“Cobbler” Horn knew his minister to be a man of strict integrity and sound judgment; and it was with complete confidence that he sought Mr. Durnford’s advice with regard to those of his letters with which his secretary and himself were unable satisfactorily to deal. The morning after the removal to the new house, he hastened to the residence of the minister with a bundle of such letters in his pocket. Mr. Durnford read the letters carefully through, and gave him in each case suitable advice; and then “Cobbler” Horn had a question to ask.

“Will you tell me, sir, why you have not yet asked me for anything towards any of our own church funds?”

“Well,” replied the minister, with a shrewd twinkle in his eye, “you see, Mr. Horn, I thought I might safely leave the matter to your generosity and good sense.”

“Thank you, sir. Well, I am anxious that my own church should have its full share of what I have to give. Will you, sir,” he added diffidently, “kindly tell me what funds there are, and how much I ought to give to each.”

As he spoke, he extracted from his pocket, with some difficulty, a bulky cheque-book, and flattened it out on the table with almost reverent fingers; for he had not yet come to regard the possession of a cheque-book as a commonplace circumstance of his life.

“That’s just like you, Mr. Horn,” said the minister, with glistening eyes.

He was a straightforward man, and transparent as glass. He would not manifest false delicacy, or make an insincere demur.

“There are plenty of ways for your money, with us, Mr. Horn,” he added. “But what is your wish? Shall I make a list of the various funds?”

Mr. Durnford drew his chair to his writing-table, as he spoke, and took up his pen.

“If you please, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn.

No sooner said than done; and in a few moments the half-sheet of large manuscript paper which the minister had placed before him was filled from top to bottom with a list of the designations of various religious funds.

“Thank you, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn, glancing at the paper. “Will you, now, kindly set down in order how much you think I ought to give in each case.”

With the very slightest hesitation, and in perfect silence, Mr. Durnford undertook this second task; and, in a few minutes, having jotted down a specific amount opposite to each of the lines in the list, he handed the paper again to “Cobbler” Horn.

Mr. Durnford’s estimate of his visitor’s liberality had not erred by excess of modesty; and he was startled when he mentally reckoned up the sum of the various amounts he had set down. But “Cobbler” Horn’s reception of the list startled him still more.

“My dear sir,” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” with a smile, “I’m afraid you do not realize how very rich I am. This list will not help me much in getting rid of the amount of money of which I shall have to dispose, for the Lord, every year. Try your hand again.”

Mr. Durnford asked pardon for the modesty of his suggestions, and promptly revised the list.

“Ah, that is better,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “The subscriptions you have set down may stand, as far as the ordinary funds are concerned; but now about the debt fund? What is the amount of the debt?”

“Two thousand pounds.”

“Well, I will pay off half of it at once; and, when you have raised two-thirds of the rest, let me know.”

“Thank you, sir, indeed!” exclaimed the minister, almost smacking his lips, as he dipped his pen in the ink, and added this munificent promise to the already long list.

“It is a mere nothing,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “It is but a trifling instalment of the debt I owe to God on account of this church, and its minister. But you are beginning to find, Mr. Durnford, that I am rather eccentric in money matters?”

“Delightfully so!” exclaimed the minister.

“Well, the right use of money has always been a point with me. Even in the days when I had very little money through my hands, I tried to remember that I was the steward of my Lord. It was difficult, then, to carry out the idea, because it often seemed as though I could not spare what I really thought I ought to give. My present difficulty is to dispose of even a small part of what I can easily spare.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the minister, in whose face there was an expression of deep interest.

“Now,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “will you, Mr. Durnford, help me in this matter? Will you let me know of any suitable channels for my money of which you may, from time to time, be aware?”

“You may depend upon me in that, my dear sir,” said the minister, with gusto.

“Thank you, sir!” exclaimed “the Golden Shoemaker,” as fervently as though his minister had promised to make him acquainted with chances of gaining money, instead of letting him know of opportunities of giving it away. “And now I think of it, Mr. Durnford, I should like to place in your hands a sum for use at your own discretion. You must meet with many cases of necessity which you would not care to mention to the authorities of the church; and it would be a distinct advantage to you to have a sum of money for use in such instances absolutely at your own command. Now I am going to write you a cheque for fifty pounds to be used as you think fit; and when it is done, you shall have more.”

“Mr. Horn!” exclaimed the startled minister.

“Yes, yes, it’s all right. All the money I’ve promised you this morning is a mere trifle to me. And now, with your permission, I’ll write the cheques.”

Why “Cobbler” Horn should not have included the whole amount of his gifts in one cheque it is difficult to say. Perhaps he thought that, by writing a separate cheque for the last fifty pounds, he would more effectually ensure Mr. Durnford’s having the absolute disposal of that amount.

The writing of the cheques was a work of time.

“There, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn, at last, as he handed the two precious slips of paper across the table, “I hope you will find them all right.”

“Thank you, Mr. Horn, again and again,” said the minister, as he folded up the cheques and placed them in his pocket-book; “they are perfectly right, I am sure.”

“Has it occurred to you,” he continued, “that it would be well if you were systematic in your giving?”

“Yes; and I intend systematically to give away as much as I can.”

“But have you thought of fixing what proportion of your income you will give? Not,” added the minister, laughing, “that I am afraid lest you should not give away enough.”

“Oh yes,” responded “Cobbler” Horn, laughing in his turn; “I have decided to give proportionately; and the proportion I mean to give is almost all I’ve got.”

“I see you are incorrigible,” laughed Mr. Durnford.

“You’ll find that I am. But now—” and “Cobbler” Horn regarded his minister with an expression of modest, friendly interest in his face—“I’m going to write another cheque.”

“You must be fond of the occupation, Mr. Horn.”

“Cobbler” Horn’s enrichment had not, in any degree, caused the cordiality of his relations with his minister to decline. There was nothing in “Cobbler” Horn to encourage sycophancy; and there was not in Mr. Durnford a particle of the sycophant.

“I believe I don’t altogether dislike it, sir,” assented “Cobbler” Horn in response to the minister’s last remark. “But,” he added, handing to him the cheque he had now finished writing, “will you, my dear sir, accept that for yourself? Your stipend is far too small; and I know Mrs. Durnford’s illness in the spring must have been very expensive. Don’t say no, I beg of you; but take it——as a favour to me.”

He had risen from his seat, and the next moment, with a hurried “good morning,” he was gone, leaving the astonished minister in possession of a cheque for one hundred pounds!