“Hope for you?” repeated the cold-hearted monster. “None whatever, and for none of your kind who come thus far. Pass on, make room for the thousands coming this way, the sound of whose tread you already hear.”
Looking at Mr. World she pitifully sobbed: “Why do you not help me? You have brought me here; plead my cause.”
“Alas, I cannot even plead my own!” He could say no more, for he took a longing glance backward, over the hills of time, where he could truly see, for the first time, the horrible depth of his folly.
Then came the monstrous creature again and sternly commanded them: “Tarry no more on this side of the river’s brink.”
Struggling with the real and imaginary imps near the Black River in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
They tasted the bitter fruits of opportunities lost, and felt the awful pangs of a soul without hope as their reluctant footsteps carried them on through the valley made dark by the shadow of their own deeds.
I then heard the discordant and agonizing wails of poor Miss Church-Member and her wretched companion; but the sounds fell harmoniously on the ears of Satan who listened to them chiming with the music of Hell, in its deathlike rhythm, as it reverberated forever from the depth beyond them, and from the throngs passing by.
Miss Church-Member could no longer hold fast to Mr. World. It took both arms to contend with the real and imaginary imps who stood grinning at her folly, and grievously tormented her from all sides.
“O mercy! mercy! Where am I?” she shrieked. “How can you be so heartless, Mr. World? Why not rid me of these fiends?”