"Why, he is always talking about it, and giving away little books, and visiting the poor, and praying with them in their houses, and preaching to them in his chapel which he built for them. And some people say he can preach a better sarmunt than parson Cole, who is a regular Oxford man. His wife is a cleverish sort of a woman; she looked in here one day, and talked away at a fine rate about Jesus Christ and salvation by grace; and I have had main hard work ever since to keep my wife from running after this new sort of religion."
"Pray, farmer, have you ever seriously reflected on the worth of your soul?"
"Why, Sir, I have something else to reflect on."
"But have you any subject to reflect on of equal importance? Do you not know that your soul, when it leaves the body, will exist for ever in a state of happiness or misery?"
"So the parsons tell us, but they may be out in their judgment as well as other people. I don't believe all they say. I strike off one-half, and then there's plenty left."
"Do you ever think on the subject of death?"
"No, I don't like to think on such a gloomy subject."
"But why not, when you know you must die soon, and may die to-night?"
"I hope not, for I a'n't fit to die."
"And are you conscious that you are not fit to die, and yet neglect to think about it? Is it possible?"