A little later Abe Lincoln met Ann and the Rev. Peter Cartwright. "We were talking about you," Ann said.
"I was wondering if the demonstration of Divine power at last night's meeting had not shaken the scales from your eyes, my sinner friend," was the exhorter's greeting.
"I suppose you call me a sinner because I do not believe in hell," Abe Lincoln said, smiling.
"No man can be religious and not fear hell."
"My sin then is in lack of fear, but I didn't make myself, and God just forgot to put it in. Am I to blame for that?"
"Don't be a scoffer," was Cartwright's advice. "You have a soul worth saving, young man. I shall pray for your never-dying soul. Perhaps others are praying for you, and the effectual fervent prayer of the righteous man availeth much."
"Thanks. I'll do as much for you if you ever get in need." Abe Lincoln answered, and bidding Ann and the preacher good-bye he went on his way.
John McNeil had come up just as Lincoln turned away. "Poor deluded sinner," Cartwright said kindly, looking after the tall, uncouth figure of Abe Lincoln. "How Satan does delude the soul of man, but he's worth praying for."
When John McNeil was alone with Ann Rutledge a few moments later, he said: "What did I tell you, Ann? I like Abe Lincoln all right, but I believe he is one of the worst sinners in this county. Why even those Wolf Creek rowdies that tried to break up the meeting believe in hell."
"Folks don't see things the same way," Ann asserted thoughtfully.