“It is the first time I ever stole anything, and I have felt very bad about it.  I don’t know how it is.  I am sure I didn’t think once that I should ever come to be what I am.  But I took to drinking, and then to quarrelling.  Since I began to go down hill, everybody gives me a kick.  You are the first man who has ever offered me a helping hand.  My wife is sickly, and my children are starving.  You have sent them many a meal, God bless you! and yet I stole the hides from you, meaning to sell them the first chance I could get.  But I tell you the truth when I say it is the first time I was ever a thief.”

“Let it be the last, my friend,” replied William Savery.  “The secret shall remain between ourselves.  Thou art still young, and it is in thy power to make up for lost time.  Promise me that thou wilt not drink any intoxicating liquor for a year, and I will employ thee to-morrow at good wages.  Perhaps we may find some employment for thy family also.  The little boy can at least pick up stones.—­But eat a bit now, and drink some hot coffee.  Perhaps it will keep thee from craving anything stronger to-night.  Doubtless, thou wilt find it hard to abstain at first; but keep up a brave heart, for the sake of thy wife and children, and it will soon become easy.  When thou hast need of coffee, tell Mary, and she will always give it to thee.”

The poor fellow tried to eat and drink, but the food seemed to choke him.  After an ineffectual effort to compose his excited feelings, he bowed his head on the table, and wept like a child.  After a while, he ate and drank with good appetite; and his host parted with him for the night with this kindly exhortation; “Try to do well, John; and thou wilt always find a friend in me.”

He entered into his employ the next day, and remained with him many years, a sober, honest, and faithful man.  The secret of the theft was kept between them; but after John’s death, William Savery sometimes told the story, to prove that evil might be overcome with good.

This practical preacher of righteousness was likewise a great preacher orally; if greatness is to be measured by the effect produced on the souls of others.  Through his ministry, the celebrated Mrs. Fry was first excited to a lively interest in religion.  When he visited England in 1798, she was Elizabeth Gurney, a lively girl of eighteen, rather fond of dress and company.  Her sister, alluding to the first sermon they heard from William Savery, writes thus:  “His voice and manner were arresting, and we all liked the sound.  Elizabeth became a good deal agitated, and I saw her begin to weep.  The next morning, when she took breakfast with him at her uncle’s, he preached to her after breakfast, and prophesied of the high and important calling she would be led into.”  Elizabeth herself made the following record of it in her journal; “In hearing William Savery preach, he seemed to me to overflow with true religion; to be humble, and yet a man of great abilities.  Having been gay and disbelieving, only a few years ago, makes him better acquainted with the heart of one in the same condition.  We had much serious conversation.  What he said, and what I felt was like a refreshing shower falling upon earth that had been dried up for ages.”