But then, agin, I thought, what will become of the respectable church members who sell the fire that flames up in a man's soul, and ruins his life? What will become of them who lend their votes and their influence to make it right? They vote on Saturdays, to make the sale of this poison legal, and on Sundays go to church with their respectable families. And they expect to go right to heaven, of course; for they have improved all the means of grace. Hired costly pews, and give big charities—in money obtained by sellin' robberies, murders, broken hearts, ruined lives.
But the boy wanted an answer; and his eyes looked questioning but soft.
“Say, auntie, do you think we'll find him there, mamma and I? You know, that is what mamma cries so for,—she wants him so bad. And do you think he will stand just inside the gate, waiting for us? Say!”
But agin I thought of what it said,—
“No drunkard shall inherit eternal life.”
And agin I didn't know what to say, and I hurried him off to bed.
But, after he had gone, I spoke out entirely unbeknown to myself, and says,—
“I can't see through it.”
“You can't see through what?” says Josiah, who wus jest a comin' in.
“I can't see through it, why drunkards and murderers are punished, and them that make 'em drink and murder go free. I can't see through it.”