country was new,
folks had to work hard, old and young, and that did considerable towards
keeping things straight. But his boys never thought of their father,
but to fear him. They both went, as soon as ever they were of age.
Silas came home afterwards, and died. Joshua went West, and I don't
believe his father has heard a word from him, these fifteen years. The
girls scattered after their mother died, and then the deacon married
again, Abby Sheldon, a pretty girl, and a good one; but she never ought
to have married him. She was not made of tough enough stuff, to wear
along side of him. She has changed into a grave and silent woman, in
his house. Her children all died when they were babies, except William,
the eldest,--wilful Will, they call him, and I don't know but he'd have
better died too, for as sure as the deacon don't change his course with
him, he'll drive him right straight to ruin, and break his mother's
heart to boot. Now, what I want to know is--if religion is the powerful
thing it is called, why don't it keep folks that have it, from making
such mistakes in life?"

Janet did not have her answer at her tongue's end, and Sampson did not
give her time to consider.

"Now there's Becky Pettimore, she's got religion. But it don't keep her
from being as sour as vinegar, and as bitter as gall--"

"Whist, man!" interrupted Janet. "It ill becomes the like o' you to
speak that way of a poor lone woman like yon--one who never knew what it
was to have a home, but who has been kept down with hard work and little
sympathy, and many another trial. She's a worthy woman, and her deeds
prove it, for all her sourness. There's few women in the town that I
respect as I do her."

"Well, that's so. I know it. I know she gets a dollar a week the year
round at Captain Liscome's, and earns it, too; and I know she gives half
of it to her aunt, who never did much for her but spoil her temper. But
it's an awful pity her religion don't make her pleasant."

"One mustna judge another," said Mrs Nasmyth, gently.

"No, and I don't want to. Only I wish--but there's no good talking.
Still I must say it's a pity that folks who have got religion don't take
more comfort out of it. Now there's mother; she's a pillar in the
church, and a good woman, I believe, but she's dreadful crank sometimes,
and worries about things as she hadn't ought to. Now it seems to me, if
I had all they say a Christian has, and expects to have, I'