The hard, cold atheism of the man’s heart was smitten, rent, and displaced. For the first time, he was made to feel that the body’s death is but a process of transition in the soul’s life; that our trials here have reference to a future world; that what we love we become; that heavenly thoughts must be entertained and relished even here, if we would not have heaven’s occupations a weariness and a perplexity to us hereafter. For the first time, the awful consciousness came over him as a reality, that all his acts and thoughts were under the possible scrutiny of myriads of spiritual eyes, and, above them all, those Supreme eyes in whose sight even the stars are not pure,—how much less, then, man that is a worm! For the first time, he could read the Bible, and catch from its mystic words rich gleams of comforting truth. For the first time, he could feel the meaning of that abused and uncomprehended word, pardon; and he could dimly see the preciousness of Christ’s revelations of the Father’s compassion.
Return we to the interview between uncle and nephew. Having wiped his eyes and steadied his voice, the Colonel said: “Delancy Hyde Rusk, yer’ve got ter larn some things, and unlarn others. Fust of all, you’re not to swar, never no more.”
“What, Uncle D’lancy! Can’t I swar when I grow up? You swar, Uncle D’lancy!”
“I’m clean cured of it, nevvy. Ef ever you har me swar again, Delancy Hyde Rusk, you jes tell me of ’t, an’ I’ll put myself through a month’s course of hard-tack an’ water.”
“Can’t I say hell, Uncle D’lancy, nor damn?”
“You’re not ter use them words profanely, nevvy, unless you want that air back of yourn colored up with a rope’s end. Now look me straight in the face, Delancy Hyde Rusk, an’ tell me ef yer ever drink sperrits?”
“Wall, Uncle D’lancy, I promised the old woman—”
“Stop! Say you promised mother.”
“Wall, I promised mother I wouldn’t drink, and I haven’t.”
“Good! Now, nevvy, yer spoke jest now of the Yankees. What do yer mean by Yankees?”