"Sir," said the Squire, with great emphasis, fixing his eye on myself as he spoke, "it brings us lower, because, as we have stronger temptations to the love of life, we have greater reluctance to resign it. Here we are distinguished by greater possessions, occupy a more exalted station, and have a greater variety of enjoyments at our command; but we are not sure that we shall be even admitted into the kingdom of heaven when we die; and, for aught we know, the same fate may await us which befel a certain rich man, of whom we read in the Bible."
"That fact, Sir," I replied, "is calculated to excite a high degree of terror in the breast of a rich man, because it teaches us, that God does not continue the line of distinction between the rich and the poor beyond this life."
"The distinction, Sir, may be preserved, but it may be against us, as poor Lazarus was comforted, while the rich man was tormented. I have a servant, who works for me in my garden, on whom I often look with envy; and if I could attain that composure in prospect of death which he possesses, I would gladly exchange my mansion for his cottage."
"I presume, Sir, he is a religious man?"
"Yes, he is a religious man, and so am I; but he has the art of deriving consolation from his religion, while I can derive none from mine."
"But how is that? Is he a more learned or a more virtuous man than you are?"
"No, Sir; he is virtuous, and he is intelligent for a person in his rank of life; but he says he does not derive any consolation from his virtue."
"I presume, Sir, he is a man of prayer?"
"Yes, and so am I, though I use a form, and he prays extempore—so I have heard."
"I presume he attends a place of worship?"