How many of the Lord's jewels have been ground, cut, and polished on the wheel of poverty; polished, but not set, for poverty is neither the gold nor silver for the setting. No matter, God does not care for the setting, it is the diamonds He loves, "and they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels."
When, however, industry, economy, and patient courage had done all, poor Abe was sometimes almost overwhelmed by hardships,—almost, but not altogether. He had a firm faith in God, and used to say, "My Father knows haa mich I can carry to a grain, and He wean't lay a straw too mony upon me, bless Him." In the midst of all the little Bishop maintained a happy heart and a cheerful countenance; he made as little of his poverty as some people do of their luxuries, and an ordinary observer might have supposed he never had a sorrow, or felt a care. The fact is he did not hoard his troubles as some persons do; he did not like them well enough for that. They hung very loosely about him at any time, and he shook them off as soon as he could; instead of buttoning them up in his breast, and keeping them until they rankled, festered, or turned sour, he loosened his bands, bared his bosom to the first healthy breeze of joy that blew, and laughed the moment his sorrows were gone.
"WATTER GRUEL."
He was one day walking several miles to a preaching appointment, in company with another brother who was going to the same place. On the way his friend's nose began to bleed, and they had to stop, though the man's nose still kept on bleeding. Abe tried to stop it: he put a cold stone to the man's neck, held his arms up over head, and resorted to a variety of acknowledged remedies, but with very little effect. "What mun I do, Abe?" said the man. The little Bishop thereupon proceeded to give him his advice. "I'll tell the' what to do," said he; "thaa mun strike at th' rooit" (root) "o' th' evil; thaa lives o'er high; thaa should try watter gruel for six weeks, and thaa'd cure that nose, that's haa I do." A burst of laughter from both hastened the cure, and on they went again with the journey. There was in this quaint remark of his just the slightest reference to the poor fare on which he had many a time set out on a long journey and a hard day's work in the cause of his Divine Master; often enough dear old Abe was like brave Gideon of old, "faint, yet pursuing."
He used to say when he met people who carried their troubles in their faces, "Yo' ha' no need to pull such lang miserable faces, raand 'um up a bit! What! are yo' gotten on dark soid o' th' hedge? Yo' mun flit into th' sunshine, there's plenty o' room." And what a blessing it would be if people who nurse their sorrows would begin to count and cherish their joys instead; the world, and especially the Church, would be full of bright faces and happy hearts.
THE HALLELUJAH COAT.
There was a time when Little Abe was badly provided against the cold, wet, inclement weather which he had to encounter in the work of the Lord, and coming out of the chapels on winter nights exposed him to many a dangerous chill. His only extra covering was a thick woollen muffler around his neck, yet in this way he bore uncomplaining the brunt of storm and pelt of rain. One Sunday night after the little Bishop had been preaching, a man came and invited him to supper before starting for home, and he went. Supper over, Abe prepared to be off; it was a bitter night, cold and wet. On seeing him about to start, the good man said, "I've got something for you, Bishop." Abe looked round and saw him standing with a big, thick overcoat open, ready for him to put on. Without a word of remark he thrust his arms into the coat, and his host proceeded to button it up from his throat to his heels, smiling all the time; this done, he stood back to look at him. Abe clapped his hands together, and shouted "Hallelujah! hallelujah!! I can say now't else—hallelujah! a top coit! a hallelujah coit!" And away he went out into the darkness and rain shouting, "A Hallelujah top coit!" That garment was always known after as "the hallelujah coit."
TEMPTED OF THE DEVIL.
Every Christian knows something of the wiles of the devil, and how busily he goes about to tease, annoy, and break the peace of the Lord's people. Abe had many a tussel with this enemy, but in the strength of faith and prayer he conquered him. During the early years of Abe's Christian life the devil often endeavoured to raise doubts in his mind on fundamental truths; but Abe was not to be moved from the faith. What he could not understand nor explain, he yet believed with all his heart, so that in time the enemy yielded every point of dispute up to him, and Abe kept his heart in perfect peace, so far as these things were concerned. If Satan came to him, it was generally on some unimportant thing which might harass and divert from better things. Abe would say "Th' owd enemy 's ge'en o'er playing 'th' roaring lion,' and turned into a flee, running and hopping all o'er me." And thus the devil would sometimes assail him, rousing his feelings, exciting his imagination and anger, and kindling his resentment to a pitch that sometimes made Abe almost ashamed of himself, especially as it was all about nothing.