“What a blessed change!”

“Blessed, indeed.  Another soul saved; another added to the great company of those who have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.  There is joy in heaven on his account.”

“Of whom are they speaking?” I asked, turning to my friend.

“Of Fletcher Gray, I believe,” was replied.

“Few men stood more in need of Christian graces,” said I.  “If he is, indeed, numbered with the saints, there is cause for rejoicing.”

“By their fruits ye shall know them,” responded my friend.  “I will believe his claim to the title of Christian, when I see the fruit in good living.  If he have truly passed from death unto life, as they say, he will work the works of righteousness.  A sweet fountain will not send forth bitter waters.”

My friend but expressed my own sentiments in this, and all like cases.  I have learned to put small trust in “profession;” to look past the Sunday and prayer-meeting piety of people, and to estimate religious quality by the standard of the Apostle James.  There must be genuine love of the neighbor, before there can be a love of God; for neighborly love is the ground in which that higher and purer love takes root.  It is all in vain to talk of love as a mere ideal thing.  Love is an active principle, and, according to its quality, works.  If the love be heavenly, it will show itself in good deeds to the neighbor; but, if infernal, in acts of selfishness that disregard the neighbor.

“I will observe this Mr. Gray,” said I, as I walked homeward from the company, “and see whether the report touching him be true.  If he is, indeed, a ‘Christian,’ as they affirm, the Christian graces of meekness and charity will blossom in his life, and make all the air around him fragrant.”

Opportunity soon came.  Fletcher Gray was a store-keeper, and his life in the world was, consequently, open to the observation of all men.  He was likewise a husband and a father.  His relations were, therefore, of a character to give, daily, a test of his true quality.

It was only the day after, that I happened to meet Mr. Gray under circumstances favorable to observation.  He came into the store of a merchant with whom I was transacting some business, and asked the price of certain goods in the market.  I moved aside, and watched him narrowly.  There was a marked change in the expression of his countenance and in the tones of his voice.  The former had a sober, almost solemn expression; the latter was subdued, even to plaintiveness.  But, in a little while, these peculiarities gradually disappeared, and the aforetime Mr. Gray stood there unchanged—­unchanged, not only in appearance, but in character.  There was nothing of the “yea, yea,” and “nay, nay,” spirit in his bargain-making, but an eager, wordy effort to gain an advantage in trade.  I noticed that, in the face of an asservation that only five per cent. over cost was asked for a certain article, he still endeavored to procure it at a lower figure than was named by the seller, and finally crowded him down to the exact cost, knowing as he did, that the merchant had a large stock on hand, and could not well afford to hold it over.