"Thrice have I this day held
forth in my Master's service, and fainted not; still it is prudent to
help this frail tenement of clay, for, surely, 'the laborer is worthy of
his hire.'"
Opening a pair of enormous jaws, he took a good measure of the proffered
brandy, and suffered it to glide downwards, with that sort of facility
with which man is prone to sin.
"I apprehend, then, sir, that fatigue will disable you from performing
the duties which kindness has induced you to attempt."
"Woman!" exclaimed the stranger, with energy, "when was I ever known to
shrink from a duty? But 'judge not lest ye be judged,' and fancy not
that it is given to mortal eyes to fathom the intentions of the Deity."
"Nay," returned the maiden, meekly, and slightly disgusted with his
jargon, "I pretend not to judge of either events, or the intentions of
my fellow creatures, much less of those of Omnipotence."
"'Tis well, woman,--'tis well," cried the minister, moving his head with
supercilious disdain; "humility becometh thy sex and lost condition; thy
weakness driveth thee on headlong like 'unto the bosom of destruction.'"
Surprised at this extraordinary deportment, but yielding to that habit
which urges us to speak reverently on sacred subjects, even when perhaps
we had better continue silent, Miss Peyton replied,--
"There is a Power above, that can and will sustain us all in well-doing,
if we seek its support in humility and truth.
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