The honest truth is, I did not want to be a Christian myself, and had resisted all the arguments I had heard; but I was helpless when dear friends told me that nothing was impossible to me that was being accomplished by a common fellow like Sam Kimper." "Nothing is impossible to him that believes," said the deacon, finding his tongue for a moment.
"Oh, I believe; there was no trouble about that: 'the devils also believe,'-- you remember that passage, I suppose?
Finally, I began to watch Sam closely, to see if perhaps he wasn't as much of a hypocrite, on the sly, as some other people I know.

He can't make much money on the terms he has with Larry, no matter how much work reaches the shop.
I've passed his shop scores of times, early and late, and found him always at work, except once or twice when I've seen him on his knees.
I've hung about his wretched home nights, to see if he did not sneak out on thieving expeditions; I've asked store-keepers what he bought, and have found that his family lived on the plainest food.

That man is a Christian, deacon.

When I heard that he was to make an exhortation at the meeting, I went there to listen--only for that purpose.

But as he talked I could not help recalling his mean, little, insignificant face as I'd seen it again and again when I was a younger man, dropping into justices' courts for a chance to get practice at pleading, and he was up for fighting or stealing.