He rose from his place, drew himself up to his full height--I shall not soon forget the look on his face--and uttered these amazing words: "Martha, bring the ginger-jar." Mrs.Minister, without a word, went to a little cupboard on the farther side of the room and took down a brown earthenware jar, which she brought over and placed on the table, Mr.Nash following her movements with astonished eyes.

No one spoke.
The minister took the jar in his hands as he might the communion-cup just before saying the prayer of the sacrament.
"Mr.Nash," said he in a loud voice, "I've decided to hold that farmers' meeting." Before Mr.Nash could reply the minister seated himself and was pouring out the contents of the jar upon the table--a clatter of dimes, nickels, pennies, a few quarters and half dollars, and a very few bills.
"Martha, just how much money is there ?" "Twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents." The minister put his hand into his pocket and, after counting out certain coins, said: "Here's one dollar and eighty-four cents more.

That makes twenty-six dollars.

Now, Mr.Nash, you're the largest contributor to my salary in this neighbourhood.

You gave twenty-six dollars last year--fifty cents a week.