life were never allowed to utter--it records how he was driven from
the door.

He had letters of introduction from this rich tract society, and again
he presented them to a minister.

"A very nice lady came," says the record. "I gave my credentials,
explained my condition and implored help.

"_We are retired from the active ministry_," the woman said, "and
cannot help you. We have no further use for religious books."

A third minister atoned for the others, and made a purchase. This was
at Tarrytown. On another occasion, when his vitality had ebbed low
through hunger and exposure, he was sitting on the roadside when a
labourer said, "There is a nigger down the road here who keeps a
saloon. He hasn't got no religion, but he wants some. Ye'd better look
him up." And he did. The Negro saloon-keeper informed him that being a
saloon-keeper shut him and his family from the church.

"Now," he said, "I am going to get Jim, my barkeeper, to look after
the joint while I take you home to talk to me and my family about
God." So they entertained the tinker-preacher, and the diary is full
of praise to God for his new-found friends. The Negro bought a
dollar's worth of tracts, and persuaded the colporteur to spend the
night with them.

With this dollar he returned to New York, got his tinker's budget, and
went back to his missionary field. If people did not want their souls
cured he knew they must have lots of tinware that needed mending; so