Eying the prisoner keenly, and with a manner expressive of surprise to which all that had gone before seemed indifference itself, his Honor, with apparent difficulty, at length ejaculated:
"A Methodist, a Methodist, Mr. Prosecutor. Oh, you preach the doctrine of the Methodist Church, do you?—infant baptism, and falling from grace?" To these hurried interrogatories, an affirmative was meekly but distinctly given.
"Well, don't you know that that isn't the Gospel? He is not guilty of preaching the Gospel, Mr. Prosecutor, and will have to be discharged. You can go, sir, but if this Court ever learns that you have been really guilty of preaching the Gospel without first taking an oath to support the Constitution of the State of Missouri, you will have to be punished, sir; the Court will see that there is no evasion of this salutary provision of our most excellent Constitution. Go, sir."
A clean-shaven, benevolent-looking gentleman of middle age was next in evidence. He had but recently assumed his present pastorate and was a deeply interested and attentive observer of all that was happening. In reply to the inquiry from the bench, he answered that he was a Universalist.
"A Universalist!" replied the judge, almost astounded beyond the power of expression. Recovering himself, he at length inquired:
"You preach the doctrine of universal salvation, do you?"
A slight bow indicated such to be the fact.
"You preach," continued his Honor, with warmth well suited to the subject-matter, "that there is no hell?"
A bow, much more emphatic, was unmistakable evidence that its author was a man who had the courage of his convictions.
"He doesn't believe that there is any hell, Mr. Prosecutor," thundered the judge, "he will have to be discharged; it is no violation of the Constitution of the State of Missouri to preach such infernal nonsense as that."