"Same to you, Ben, and many of them. I have a Christmas-box here, but I can't give it you without the old horse and Jack are with you."
The old horse was round the corner, but Ben had sent Jack home, so it was arranged that the trio should call on the following day.
There was a humorous twinkle in the postmaster's eye as the old horse, at his usual snail's pace, came crawling on, and was brought to a stand opposite his shop. Out came the shopman with a nose-bag containing as much corn as any horse could possibly consume, and at which Ben's steed set to work, moving his jaws with a steady, rapid crunch, of which no one who saw his legs move would have thought them capable.
"That is the old horse's share, and this rug will keep his old sides warmer when you are delivering those parcels that take so much stowing at the Red Lion," said the postmaster, as he put a warm rug over the poor beast's thin ribs. "And Jack, where's Jack? There's something for you. My boy's legs and arms are too long for this good overcoat. Try it on, and see if it will fit you."
Little Jack was speedily inducted. The coat fitted him just a little too much; but then it would last, and there was room to grow. In order to help him to fill it out, the postmaster added a large mince pie and a Christmas cake, and, on condition that he started an account with it in the penny bank that very evening, a bright shilling.
Ben touched his hat, thanked the postmaster, and looked expectant. "Nay, Ben," said the latter, "I have no Christmas-box for you in addition. So far you have had all the money and the drink, whilst Jack and the old horse have had double share of cold and all the waiting. If they share the labour, they should share the benefit, and I prefer giving my Christmas-boxes in food and clothing, and where both are most needed, to bestowing money where it is likely to be misspent in drink by one who has had too much already."
Ben was a good deal abashed at this, but he was not without fatherly feelings, and he was pleased in his boy's pleasure. "Thank you, sir, all the same," he said; "you have been good to my lad, and in that kind to me. And if you had given me nothing but the old horse's feed, at any rate you have taught me a lesson."
He waited patiently till the corn was finished, and then went on his way. The joke got wind, and Ben was often laughed at about the postmaster's Christmas-box. He took the jests with his usual good temper but it began to be noticed that Ben's eyes grew brighter, his pauses at the Red Lion shorter, and that his old horse's ribs became better covered. Little Jack, his mother, and the youngsters at home had more of Ben's company after that day.
By God's blessing, the postmaster's lesson proved a word in season, and that Christmas time, the turning-point in Ben's life. He began to think less of self and more of others. Then he became discontented with himself and his life, and in want of a Saviour. And when he found that Saviour in Jesus, he wondered how he had ever lived without Him.
Need I say that Ben Barry, the Christian, was a far happier man than the old Ben of whom we caught a glimpse at the beginning of this sketch?