s on dat. You vas a
member of von shurch and I vas a member of anoder, deacon, and we can
talk togeder like brudders,--a little vay, anyhow. Now, I tell you vat
it is: dere's a good many men in dis town dat's behavin' very decent
dat don't belong to any shurch at all, and you'd yoost as lief discount
deir notes as you vould any oder man's, and you'd go into business mit
dem yoost as qvick, and you'd take deir word for anyding yoost as
qvick. If dat's de vay mit dem men, vy isn't it true dat Sam Kimper is
a good deal better off mit vat he's got dan he vould be midout anyding
at all in de vay of religion?"

"Oh, Conrad," said the deacon, "you were brought up in darkness and
error! You don't understand. I've got that Sam Kimper on my mind so
much that I'm just keeping our minister after him all the time."

"Vell," said the shopkeeper, "I tell you vat I'll do, deacon. You let
your minister do all he can mit him, and ven he finds he can't do
noding yoost you come an' tell me, an' den I'll send our priest after
him. He's a good man. You can't say noding against him; you know you
can't. Neider can anybody else in dis town."

"No," said the deacon, "I don't mind saying, for I've said it a good
many times before, that if Father Black belonged to my church, instead
of the one he does, I couldn't find a single thing to say or think
against him. He is certainly a very good man, and doing a great deal of
good among a lot of people that I didn't suppose ever could be kept out
of mischief; but--"

"But he didn't keep 'em out of mischief in your vay. Dat's de trouble,
isn't it? Come now, own up, like an honest man, and I von't go tell
nobody else about vat you say. Own up, now; isn't dat de trouble? Dem
people dat you talk about as behavin' demselves is a good deal better
dan some dat's smarter and has got more money an' more advantages an'
more friends, an' dey don't make nobody any trouble, an' yet you ain't
satisfied mit 'em; an' mit deir shurch, yoost because dey don't do
everyding your vay."

"Conrad," said the deacon, putting on a lofty air, "you're a good man
to do business with; you're a respectable citizen, except that you sell
rum. But there's some things you can't understand, and it's no use for
me to waste time talking to you about them. If your mind was clearer,
if it had been enlightened in the true way, you would not be selling
rum, for instance."

"Vouldn't I, dough? Vell, I yoost vant you to understand dere's no