During the evening of the day in which my body was interred, I was with my companion and mother, who proposed to visit the house of the parish minister. I wished not to go, for I was well satisfied of his feelings. I was about to say so, when my companion resumed: “We may not refuse crumbs when no more can be had. I see,” said she, “he will not pray without wrath or doubting; but it is all we can expect under his condition of mind. He is now waiting to call the family together for prayers.”
“Then we will not stay long,” I replied.
“No longer than you wish,” she rejoined.
It was a still night. As we neared the house, the work of reading a chapter was commenced by the servant of the house. She read, with hurried words, the chapter which was offered her.
“That seems to be an awful lesson of judgment against the unbelieving,” said the minister, with a sigh. “Oh! what would Paine give now, if he had made his peace with God? I fear he is lost forever.”
“And why do you think so?” said the servant.
“Because he was a very wicked man,” said the minister.
“Are not all men wicked,” she faintly uttered?
M. Yes: but you know there is a sin unto death, for which even Christians are not permitted to pray.
S. Did Paine commit that sin which is unto death?