"But some one must sell liquor—"
"I don't see the necessity," interrupted Letty.
"And it is not the wholesale dealers who make the drunkards," pursued Mrs. Train. "It is those miserable little dram-sellers."
"Who supplies the dram-sellers?" asked John. "Is it any better for a man to furnish Weapons which he knows will be used for murder, than it is to do the murder himself?"
"Drinking is not murder," said Mrs. Train.
"Very commonly it is the worst kind of murder," replied John. "Do you remember poor Harry Welles? Would it not have been better for Harry to be killed at once than to run the career he did? The man who kills another has no more that he can do; he cannot hurt the soul of his victim, which may pass at once to God; but he who makes a man a drunkard helps to cast body and soul into hell!
"Can you think with any complacency of seeing at the left hand of God even one poor soul whom your money has helped to send into the place of torment? Suppose that Joe were ever so successful: would any income of capital compensate you for that sight? What will money be to you then? Remember what is said of him who offends one of God's little ones!"
"Then you think every one who deals in liquor is no better than a murderer?" said Mrs. Train. "I think you judge very uncharitably."
"I do not judge at all: it is God's word which judges," replied John. "But, to answer your remark: I do not see how the man who makes a living out of the sin and ruin of his neighbour is any better than a murderer. Is it not much worse to be the means of the soul's death than of the death of the body?"
"But a great many people in the best society both sell and drink liquor."