"That's it," replied the ex-champion. "They say that it's worth a hundred guineas. A gent that's dead and gone bet two thousand upon me when I beat the Slasher; and in the morning he came to 'cossit' me, as he said, and brought me this."

"It's the jewel that's worth the money," said the visitor. "Why, the gold of the ring would not fetch three pounds." All assented to this. And he continued. "Well, it's just so with these tracts you have been throwing about: as bits of paper they cost little or nothing, and are not worth your acceptance; but they are all studded with a jewel--the pearl of great price:" and then raising his voice to a clear ringing pitch, he exclaimed, "The name of the Lord Jesus, by whom alone each man in this room can be saved, is upon them,--He is the gem. None other name is given by which you can obtain mercy." And then placing some tracts upon the table, he left the room with a firm tread. The men were so interested and surprised that scarcely a word was spoken. A few days after, the potman told the distributor that the pugilists did not destroy a tract or leave one behind.

The Man with the Book — Part 92

More than two years after this event the Missionary was standing one morning at the bar, in conversation with the landlady, when he noticed, the parlour door being open, a very aged man seated with a glass of sherry before him. His beard, which was very long, and his few remaining hairs were as white as the driven snow: and as he leaned upon his gold-headed cane he looked beautiful,--he had indeed that rich beauty of age which in its day is more lovely than the bloom of youth. The visitor approached politely, and asked his acceptance of a little book. He received it with a smile, and entered freely into conversation, which ended in the following way: "And now, sir, may I put the question to you which one of the Pharaohs put to an aged man who was led up to the throne by his son?"

The Man with the Book — Part 92

"An honourable age. But your answer is not so full as that which good old Jacob gave. He told the King that 'the days of the years of his pilgrimage were an hundred and thirty years;' and added, 'Few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage.' He spoke of life as short, for upon looking back time appeared to have passed quickly; he spoke of his days as 'evil,' for he had had his share of care and sorrows: but, best of all, he confessed to the heathen King that he was but a stranger and pilgrim upon the earth, and so acknowledged his belief in, and his hope of, enduring rest in the better country. I trust that you have like precious faith, and the assurance that you are near the prepared mansions,--the city of habitation whose Builder and Maker is God?"

The Man with the Book — Part 92