"Then I know not where to find one, for I see I too am out of the
catalogue."

While this conversation was in progress he took three dollars from his
desk and handed it to me; but as much as ever, I stopped to thank him,
and told him the worst wish I had for him was that he would repent of
his wicked position before the hour of death overtook him, and that he
might find peace and pardon for these Satanic assertions he had made.
He sat quietly listening while I gave out my indignation without
stint. "Hand me back that three dollars," and it was as freely
returned as I received it. He put it back in his drawer, took out five
dollars and handed it to me, and hardly took time to nod "I thank you"
for finishing my speech, which was not in the least interrupted, even
with the increased subscription.

Poor man, I pitied him, for it was more than a year before I could get
another opportunity to speak to him. His clerk left the bank as soon
as he commenced his tirade. Although it is unpleasant to meet with
such spirits, yet I never flee from them. If my cause is owned by the
author of the _Higher Law_, none of these things move me. A few
months after this we received a letter from Mintie Berry, the anxious
wife, for whom we succeeded in raising enough to reunite the long
separated couple, saying that their happy reunion was the result of
favors from their many friends, to whom they returned grateful thanks,
while they praised the Lord for the blessing.

I received a letter, July 4, 1859, from poor Calvin Fairbanks. Eight
long years of the fifteen he had suffered in a Kentucky penitentiary.
How sad are these lines, containing some of his prison reflections! He