"Jack, I hear you have been preaching again."
"Yes, mas'r. I must go an' tell sinners how Christ was wounded for our transgressions, how he sweat drops of blood for us in the garden, an' wore that cruel crown of thorns that we might wear a crown of joy when he comes."
"But I don't want to hear your preaching. Now bare your back, and take the flogging I told you I should give you if you went off preaching."
Fast flew the cruel lashes, until Jack's back was covered with wounds and blood.
"Now, Jack, go down to the cotton-field and go to work. I reckon you'll never want to preach again."
When the next Sunday came, Jack's back was in a terrible condition. But, hobbling along, he found his friends in the neighboring plantation, and said:—
"Mas'r whipped me mos' ter death last Monday, but if I can only get you to come to Jesus and love him, I am willing to die for your sake tomorrow."
If there were scoffers there, do you not think they were led to believe there was a reality in religion? If any were there who were inclined to think that ministers preach only when they get money for it, do you not think they changed their minds when they saw what wages Jack got? Many were in tears, and some gave themselves to that Saviour for whose sake Jack was willing to die the death of a martyr.
Next morning the master called Jack, and said,
"Make bare your back again; for I told you that just as sure as you went off preaching, I would whip you till you gave it up."