“Chi! no;—suppose man see God, he must die one minute.” (He would die in a moment.)
“When you die won’t you see God?”
With great warmth, “I know no savvy. (I don’t know.) How should I know? Never mind. I no want to hear more for that palaver.” (I want no more talk on that subject.)
“What way?” (Why?)
“It no be your business, you come here for trade palaver.”
I knew—resumes Mr. Smith—it would be of no use pursuing the subject at that time, so I was silent, and it dropped for the moment.
In speaking of him dying, I had touched a very tender and disagreeable chord, for he looked very savage and sulky, and I saw by the rapid changes in his countenance that he was the subject of some intense internal emotion. At length he broke out, using most violent gesticulations, and exhibiting a most inhuman expression of countenance, “Suppose God was here, I must kill him, one minute!”
“You what? you kill God?” followed I, quite taken aback, and almost breathless with the novel and diabolical notion; “You kill God? why, you talk all some fool” (like a fool); “you cannot kill God; and suppose it possible that God could die, everything would cease to exist. He is the Spirit of the universe. But he can kill you.”
“I know I cannot kill him; but suppose I could kill him, I would.”
“Where does God live?”