“They go to hell;” was my ready and orthodox answer。
“And what is hell? Can you tell me that?”
“A pit full of fire。”
“And should you like to fall into that pit; and to be burning there for ever?”
“No; sir。”
“What must you do to avoid it?”
I deliberated a moment; my answer; when it did e; was objectionable: “I must keep in good health; and not die。”
“How can you keep in good health? Children younger than you die daily。 I buried a little child of five years old only a day or two since;—a good little child; whose soul is now in heaven。 It is to be feared the same could not be said of you were you to be called hence。”
Not being in a condition to remove his doubt; I only cast my eyes down on the two large feet planted on the rug; and sighed; wishing myself far enough away。
“I hope that sigh is from the heart; and that you repent of ever having been the occasion of disfort to your excellent benefactress。”
“Benefactress! benefactress!” said I inwardly: “they all call Mrs。 Reed my benefactress; if so; a benefactress is a disagreeable thing。”
“Do you say your prayers night and morning?” continued my interrogator。
“Yes; sir。”
“Do you read your Bible?”
“Sometimes。”
“With pleasure? Are you fond of it?”
“I like Revelations; and the book of Daniel; and Genesis and Samuel; and a little bit of Exodus; and some parts of Kings and Chronicles; and Job and Jonah。”
“And the Psalms? I hope you like them?”
“No; sir。”
“No? oh; shocking! I have a little boy; younger than you; who knows six Psalms by heart: and when you ask him which he would rather have; a gingerbread…nut to eat or a verse of a Psalm to learn; he says: ‘Oh! the verse of a Psalm! angels sing Psalms;’ says he; ‘I wish to be a little angel here below;’ he then gets two nuts in repense for his infant piety。”
“Psalms are not interesting;” I remarked。
“That proves you have a wicked heart; and you must pray to God to change it: to give you a new and clean one: to take away your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh。”
I was abou