'Humph!' replied the Deacon, 'I sh-sh-shouldn't care if you would give us a st-st-star, but we do-do-don't want a lightning-bug!' The minister was settled over the flock, however, and the old man lived to overcome all his objections, despite his naturally obstinate disposition.
Although Deacon Richardson was possessed of many excellent traits of character, he was by nature rather inclined to an eager grasping after wealth, a disposition which his solitary state greatly confirmed and increased. For the last twenty years of his life the attainment of wealth seemed to be his ruling passion, and he went on, adding farm to farm, and mortgage to mortgage, until it began to be feared that he would live to gain possession of all the property in town. Apropos to this: I remember that a Methodist clergyman, who had spent the night at my father's house, addressed a little boy, (who happened to be passing while he was performing his ablutions at the 'sink' by the door,) and received his answers somewhat in this wise, greatly to the amusement of all within hearing:
Minister. Little boy, what is your name?
Boy. John, Sir.
Minister. John what?
Boy. John Berry, Sir.
Minister. Don't you think it is time for you to be thinking about your soul, my boy?
Boy. Sir?
Minister. Don't you think it is best for you to be making preparation for a future state? Is it not time for you to be thinking about another world?
Boy. Yes, Sir; I think it is time, for father says Deacon Richardson's going to have all there is in this world!