Southern Argus

MISCELLANEOUS.

Borg and tho'

An aged traveller, worn and weary,
was gently urging on his tired beast.
Just as the sun was dropping behind the
range of hills that bounds the horizon
in that rich and picturesque country, in
the vicinity of Springfield, Ohio.

It was a sultry August evening, and he
had journeyed a distance of thirty-five
miles since morning; his pulse throbbed
under the influence of a burning
sun. At Fairfield he had been hospi-
tably entertained by one who had re-
cognised the veteran soldier of the
cross, and who had ministered to him
for his Master's sake, of the benefits
himself had received from the hand
which feedeth the young lions when
they lack; and he had travelled on, refreshed
in spirit. But many weary
miles had he journeyed over since then,
and now as the evening shades darkened
around, he felt the burden of age
and toil heavy upon him, and he desired
the pleasant retreat he had pictured
to himself when that day's pilgrimage
should be accomplished.

It was not long before the old man
checked his tired animal at the door of
the anxiously looked for haven of rest.
A middle aged woman was at hand, to
whom he mildly applied for accommo-
dation for himself and horse.

"I don't know," said she, coldly, after
scrutinizing for some time the appear-

ance of the traveller, which was not the
most promising, "that we can take you
, old man. You seem tired, however,
and I'll see if the Minister of the cir-
cuit, who is here to night, will let you
lodge with him."

The young circuit preacher soon
made his appearance, and consequen-
tially swaggering up to the old man,
examined him for some moments inqui-
sitively: then asked a few impertinent
questions: and finally, after adjusting
his hair half a dozen times, feeling his
smoothly shaven chin, consented that
the stranger should share his bed for the
night, and turning upon his heel enter-
ed the house.

The traveller, aged and weary as he
was, dismounted, and led his faithful
animal to the stable, where, with his
own hands, he rubbed him down, wa-
tered him, and gave him food, and then
entered the inhospitable mansion where
he had expected so much kindness. A
Methodist family resided in the house,
and as the circuit preacher was to be
here that day, great preparations were
made to entertain him, and a number
of the Methodist young ladies of the
neighborhood had been invited, so that
quite a party met the eyes of the stran-
ger, as he entered, not one of whom
took the slightest notice of him, and he,
wearily sought a vacant chair in the
corner, out of direct observation, but
where he could note all that was going
on. And his anxious eye showed that
he was no careless observer of what
was transpiring around him.

The young minister played his part
with all the frivolity and foolishness of
a city beau, and nothing like religion
escaped his lips.
Now he was chatting
and bandying compliments with this young lady, and now
engaged in trifling repartee with an-
other, who was anxious to seem inter-
esting in his eyes.

The stranger, after an hour, during
which no refreshments had been pre-
pared for him, asked to be shown to his
room, to which he
retired unnoticed,
grieved and shocked at the
conduct
of
The Family and the
minister.

Taking
from his saddle bags
he seated himself in a
well worn bible,
chair, and was
soon buried in thoughts,
holy and elevating, of which those
who passed him by in pity and scorn.

dreamed not of.

Hour after hour passed
away, and no one
came
to invite
the old, worn down traveller
to the luxurious supper
The preacher hastily threw on his clothes, and
got into
the middle
of a very small
bed, which
was to be the
resting place
of the old man as well as himself.

After a while the aged stranger rose up,
and after
partially disrobing
himself,
knelt
down, and remained for many
minutes in
fervent
prayer.

The earnest breathing out
of his soul, soon arrested
the attention of the young preach-
er, who began to feel some few re-
proofs of conscience for his own neg-
lect of his duty. The old man rose
from his knees, and after slowly un-
dressing himself, got into bed, or rather
upon the edge of the bed, for the young
preacher had taken possession of the
centre and would not, voluntarily, move
an inch. In this uncomfortable posi-
tion, the young preacher made a re-
mark, to which the old man replied in
a style and manner that arrested his
attention. On this he moved over an
inch or two and made more room.

"How far have you come to day, old
gentleman?"

"Thirty five miles."

"Where from?"

"Springfield."

"Ah, indeed! You must be tired af-
ter so long a journey, or one of your
age"

"Yes, this poor old man is much
worn down by long and constant tra-
velling, and I feel that the journey of
to day has exhausted me much."

The young minister moved over a
little.

You do not belong to Springfield
then?"

"No. I have no abiding place."

"How?"

I have no continuing city. My
home is beyond this vale of tears."

Another move of the minister.

"How far have you travelled on your
present journey?"

"From Philadelphia."

"From Philadelphia! (In evident
surprise.)

The Methodist General
Conference was in session there a short
time since. Had it broken up when
you left?"

It adjourned the day before I start-
ed."

"Ah, indeed!"—moving still farther
over towards the front side of the bed,
and allowing the stranger better accom-
modation. "Had Bishop George lost
when you came out?"

"Yes—he started at the same time I
did! We left in company."

"Indeed"

Here the circuit preacher relinquish-
ed a full half of the bed, and politely
requested the stranger to occupy a lar-
ger space.

"How did the Bishop look? He is
getting quite old now and feeble is he
not?"

He carries his age tolerably well.
But his labor is a hard one, and he be-
gins to show signs of failing strength."

"He is expected this way in a week
or two. How glad I shall be to shake
hands with the old veteran of the Cross!
But you left in company with the good
old man: how far did you come toge-
ther?"

"We travelled alone or a long dis-
tance."

"You travelled alone with the Bish-
op?"

"Yes! we have been intimate for
years"

"You intimate with Bishop George!"

"Yes, why not?"

Bless me! Why did I not know
that? But may I be so bold as to en-
quire your name?"

After a moment's hesitation, the
stranger replied

"George."

"George! George! Not Bishop
George!"

"They call me Bishop George,"
meekly replied the old man.

Why—why—bless me! Bishop
George," exclaimed the now abashed
preacher, springing from his bed. "You
have had no supper? I will instantly
call up the family. Why did you not

tell us who you were?"

Stop, stop, my friend," said the
Bishop gravely, "I want no supper
here, and should not eat any if it were
got for me. If an old man, toil worn,
and weary, fainting with travelling
thro' all the long summer day, was not
considered worthy of a meal by this
family, who profess to have set up the
altar of God in their house, Bishop
George surely is not. He is, at best,
but a man, and has no claims beyond
common humanity."

A night of severer mortification, than
the young minister had never experienced.
The Bishop kindly admonished him,
and warned him of the great necessity
there was
of his adorning the doctrines
of Christ, by following him sincerely
and humbly
Gently and earnestly he
endeavored to win him back from his
wanderings
of heart, and direct him to
trust more in God and less in his own
cunning
met by the heads of the family with
a thousand sincere apologies. He mild-
ly silenced them, and asked to have
his horse brought out. The horse was
accordingly soon in readiness, and the
Bishop, taking up his saddlebags, was
preparing to depart.

"But surely, Bishop," urged the dis-
tressed matron, "you will not thus leave
us? Wait a few minutes; breakfast is
on the table."

"No, sister L. I cannot take break-
fast here. You did not consider a poor
toil worn traveller worthy of a meal,
and your Bishop asks no claim but such
as humanity urges
And thus he departed, leaving the
family and minister in confusion and
sorrow. He did not act thus from re-

sentment, for such an emotion did not
reign in his heart, but he desired to
teach them a lesson such as they would
not easily forget.

Six months from this time the Ohio
Annual Conference met at Cincinnati,
and the young minister was to present
himself for ordination as a Deacon;
and Bishop George was to be the pre-
siding Bishop.

On the first day of the assembling of
the Conference, our minister's heart
sunk within him as he saw the venera-
ble Bishop take his seat. So great was
his grief and agitation, that he was
soon obliged to leave the room. That
evening, as the Bishop was seated alone
in his chamber, the Rev. Mr.
was announced, and he requested him
to be shown up. He grasped the young
man by the hand with a cordiality he
did not expect, for he had made careful
enquiries, and found that since they
had met before, a great change had
been wrought in him. He was now as
humble and pious, as he was before
worldly minded. As a father would
have received a disobedient but repen-
tant child, so did this good man receive
his erring but contrite brother. They
mingled their tears together, while the
young preacher wept as a child, upon
the bosom of his spiritual father. At
this session he was ordained, and he is
now one of the most pious and useful
ministers in the Ohio Conference.

Balt. thenceum.

From the Southern Literary Messenger.