“Mr. Hawes would tell me you are the scoundrel and he a zealous servant of morality and order; but these comparisons are out of place. I am now deferring not to the world's judgment but to a higher, in whose eye Mr. Hawes and you stand on a level—two unforgiven sinners; if not forgiven you will both perish everlastingly, and to be forgiven you must forgive. God is very forgiving—He forgives the best of us a thousand vile offenses. But He never forgives unconditionally. His terms are our repentance and our forgiveness of those who offend us one-millionth part as deeply as we offend Him. Therefore in praying against Hawes you have prayed against yourself. Give me your slate. No; take it yourself. Write—”
Robinson took his pencil with alacrity. He wrote a beautiful hand, and wanted to show off this accomplishment to his reverence.
“Forgive us our sins as we forgive them that trespass against us.'”
“It is down, sir.”
“Now particularize.”
“Particularize, your reverence?”
“Write under 'us' 'our' and 'we,' 'me',' my' and 'I'; respectively.”
“All right, sir.”
“Now under 'them' write 'Mr. Hawes.'”
“Ugh! Yes, your reverence, 'Mr. Hawes.'”