It is impossible to measure the influence which may be exerted by a single act, a word, or even a look. It was the simple act of a complete stranger that changed the course of the whole life of young Henry.

When he was a boy, his father moved to the Far West – Ohio. It was before the days of steam, and no great mills thundered on her river banks, but occasionally there was a little grain mill by the side of some small stream.

To these little mills, the surrounding neighbourhood flocked with their sacks of corn. Sometimes Henry’s family had to wait two or three days for their turn. Henry was generally the one sent from his house, for, while he was too small to be of much use on the farm, he was as good as a man to carry the grain to the mill. So he was not at all surprised one morning when his father said, “Henry, you must take the horse and go to the mill today.”

But he found so many of the neighbouring farmers there ahead of him, that he knew there was no hope of getting home that day; but he was not at all concerned, for his basket was well filled with provisions, and Mr. Saunders always opened his big barn for them to sleep in.

That day there was a new young man in the crowd, in addition to the usual group of men who had been in the habit of gathering from time to time in the old Saunders barn – a young fellow about Henry’s age. His name was Charlie Allen, and his father had bought a farm over on the Brush Creek Road. He was sociable and friendly, but somehow Henry felt that he had “more manners” than the rest of them.

The evening was spent, as usual, in relating coarse jokes and playing cards. Although Henry lived in a Christian home and was not accustomed to such things at home, he had become so used to it at the mill, that it had long ceased to shock him, and, indeed, he was getting to enjoy watching the games of others.

When bedtime came, they were all so busy with their own affairs that they did not notice Charlie Allen, until a rude, profane fellow exclaimed:-

“Heyday! We’ve got a preacher here!” Sure enough, Charlie was kneeling by the oat bin praying. But the jest met with no response. The silence was broken only by the drowsy cattle below, and the twittering swallows overhead. More than one rough man wiped a tear from his eyes as he went silently to his bed on the hay.

Henry had always been in the habit of praying at home, but he never thought of such a thing at Saunders Mill.  No, not in front of his friends.

As he lay awake that night in the old barn, thinking of Charlie Allen’s courage and what an effect it had on all the men, his conscience began to bother him and at that moment he firmly resolved that, in the future, he would do right no matter what the consequences may be. Little did Henry realize how soon his courage would be tested.

Just after dinner the next day Henry got his grain, and started for home. When he arrived at Squire Albright’s gate, where he turned to go home, he found the old squire waiting for him. He saw in a moment that something had gone terribly wrong. Henry had always stood in the greatest awe of the old gentleman, because he was the rich man of the neighborhood, and, now he felt his heart beginning to beat very fast.  As soon as Henry came near the squire said:-

“Did you go through this gate yesterday?”

Henry could easily have denied it, as it was before daylight when he went through, and he sometimes took the other way to the mill that was not through that gate. But the picture in his mind of Charlie Allen kneeling in the barn came to his mind like a flash, and before he had time to listen to the tempter, he replied:-

“Yes sir; I did.”

“Are you sure you shut and pinned the gate?” he asked.

This question caught Henry off guard. He remembered distinctly that he did not. He could pull the pin out without getting off his horse, but he could not put it in again; so he carelessly rode away, and left it open.

“I- I- I-”

“Out with it; tell just what you did!”

“I left it open,” he said abruptly.

“Well, you let the cattle in and they have destroyed all my early potatoes – a terrible piece of business!”

“I’m very sorry, I’d–”

“Talking won’t help matters now; but remember, boy, remember that sorrow doesn’t make potatoes –sorrow doesn’t make potatoes.”

Henry felt very bad about the matter, for he was really sorry that the old gentleman lost his potatoes, and now he expected to be severely reproved at home. But he soon found that they knew nothing of the matter at home, and after several days had passed, he began to rest quite easy.

Alas for human hopes! One rainy afternoon Henry saw the squire riding down the lane. He ran off to the barn to hide. He was ashamed to face him, and afraid to meet his father. They sat on the porch and talked a long time.

After a long time Henry’s curiosity overcame his fear and he quietly stole back to the house, and went into his mother’s room to see if he could hear what they were talking about.

“Why, the boy could be spared well enough, but he doesn’t know anything about the business,” said Henry’s father.

“There is one thing he does know,” said the squire, “he knows how to tell the truth, even when he made a mistake, and that is the kind of honest boy I want to work for me.” He then related the circumstance which Henry so much dreaded to have his father hear.

After the squire had gone, Henry’s father called him, and told him that the squire was going to open a store in the village, and wanted a boy to help, and that Henry could go if he wished. Henry went, and remained in the village store until it became a city store. People say Henry got his start in life when he entered Albright’s store, but he will always declare that he got it while he was waiting for the grain, from the influence of Charlie Allen.

“Ye are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hid.” Matthew 5:14.

“These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue. . . .” Proverbs 6:16–17