“Healthy as anywhere.”
“Do you think I am sorry I gave it to you?”
“I haven’t the slightest reason to doubt your whole-hearted generosity.”
“Then why in the thunder don’t you keep it?” inquired the dumbfounded benefactor.
“Well, sir, if I must tell you,” said the young preacher, “you know I am very fond of singing, and there’s one hymn in my book, which has been one of my greatest comforts in life, and it is not so any more. I have lost the joy of singing it, and it has killed so much other joy that I can no longer endure the privation. I will sing you one verse.”
Then he sang:
“No foot of land do I possess,
No cottage in the wilderness;
A poor wayfaring man.
I lodge awhile in tents below,