Brahmin with this same assertion that he was God. The missionary, too wise to enter upon an argument to prove that he was not God, thrust his hand into his pocket and then asked him, since he was God, how many fingers there were on his hand. “Ah! that is nothing," answered the Brahmin; “every man has five fingers on his hand.” “Confess now," said the missionary, “that thou knowest nothing, and therefore art not God; for on my hand I have not five fingers, but only four fingers and a half!” He then drew from his pocket his hand and showed it to the people, with part of one finger cut off. The poor Brahmin was compelled to retreat amid the derision of the crowd.
To the weary labourer, street-preaching often seems like water spilled upon a rock. At times, cast down by the grovelling spirit of the people, or pained by the blasphemy he is constrained to hear, he is ready to cry out, “Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed!” At other times he finds it a delightful duty to make known Christ and his salvation to listening multitudes, and to feel that these glorious truths are entering intelligent minds. Yet, whether they will hear, or
