“A flattering picture certainly!” was responded by Mr. Steel, with the manner of one on whose mind an unpleasant conviction was forcing itself.

“Is it not true to the life?  Death holds out to us his unwelcome hand, and we must leave all.  The key of our treasure-house is given, to another.”

“Yet, is he not bound by our will?” said Mr. Steel.  “As we have ordered, must not he dispense?”

“Why not dispense with our own hands, and with our own eyes see the fruit thereof?  Why not, in some small measure, at least prove if it be indeed, more blessed to give than to receive?  Let us talk plainly to each other—­we are friends.  I know that in your will is a bequest of five thousand dollars to a certain charitable institution, that, even in its limited way, is doing much good.  I speak now of only this single item.  In my will, following your example and suggestion, is a similar bequest of one thousand dollars.  You are forty-five and I am forty-seven.  How long do we expect to live?”

“Life is uncertain.”

“Yet often prolonged to sixty, seventy, or even eighty years.  Take sixty-five as the mean.  Not for twenty years, then, will this institution receive the benefit of your good intention.  It costs, I think, about fifty dollars a year to support each orphan child.  Only a small number can be taken, for want of liberal means.  Applicants are refused admission almost every day.  Three hundred dollars, the interest on five thousand, at six per cent., would pay for six children.  Take five years as the average time each would remain in the institution, and we have thirty poor, neglected little ones, taken from the street, and educated for usefulness.  Thirty human souls rescued, it may be, from hell, and saved, finally, in heaven.  And all this good might be accomplished before your eyes.  You might, if you chose, see it in progress, and comprehending its great significance, experience a degree of pleasure, such as fills the hearts of angels.  I have made up my mind what to do.”

“What?”

“Erase the item of one thousand dollars from my will.”

“What then?”

“Call it two thousand, and invest it at once for the use of this charity.  No, twenty years shall stand between my purpose and its execution.  I will have the satisfaction of knowing that good is done in my lifetime.  In this case, at least, I will be my own dispenser.”

Love of money was a strong element in the heart of Mr. Steel.  The richer he grew, the more absorbing became his desire for riches.  It was comparatively an easy thing to write out charitable bequests in a will—­to give money for good uses when no longer able to hold possession thereof; but to lessen his valued treasure by taking anything therefrom for others in the present time, was a thing the very suggestion of which startled into life a host of opposing reasons.  He did not respond immediately, although his heart moved him to utterance.  The force of his friend’s argument was, however, conclusive.  He saw the whole subject in a new light.  After a brief but hard struggle with himself, he answered: