Charlemont; Or, The Pride of the Village. a Tale of KentuckySimms, William Gilmore
General
Charlemont; Or, The Pride of the Village. a Tale of Kentucky
Simms, William Gilmore
Kentucky -- Fiction
“What you say, Alfred Stevens, is very new and very strange to me, and I
should think from what I already know of the evil which is sometimes put
in printed books, that there was indeed a spirit of malice at work in
this way, to help the progress and the conquests of Satan among our
blind and feeble race. But I am not prepared to believe that God has
left it to Satan to devise so fearful a scheme for prosecuting his evil
designs as that of making the demons of Ashdod and Assyria take the
names of mortal men, while teeming to follow mortal occupations. It
would be fearful tidings for our poor race were this so. But if so, is
it not seen that there is a difference in the shapes of these persons.
If either of these brothers who blasphemously call themselves John and
James, after the manner of the apostles, shall be in very truth and
certainty that Dagon of the Philistines whom Jehovah smote before his
altar, will he not be made fishlike from the waist downward, and will
this not be seen by his followers and some of the thousands whom
he daily perverts to his evil purposes and so leads to eternal
destruction?”
“It may be that it is permitted to such a demon to put on what shape he
thinks proper,” replied Stevens; “but even if it is not, yet this would
not be the subject of any difference--it would scarcely prevent the
prosecution of this evil purpose. You are to remember, Mr. Cross--”
“John Cross--plain John Cross, Alfred Stevens,” was the interruption of
the preacher.
“You are to remember,” Stevens resumed, “that when the heart is full
of sin, the eyes are full of blindness. The people who believe in these
evil beings are incapable of seeing their deformities.”
“That is true--a sad truth.”
“And, again,” continued Stevens, “there are devices of mere mortal art,
by which the deformities and defects of an individual may be concealed.
One of these brothers, I am told, is never to be seen except seated in
one position at the same desk, and this desk is so constructed, as
to hide his lower limbs in great part, while still enabling him to
prosecute his nefarious work.”
“It's clear enough, Brother Cross,” exclaimed the widow Cooper, now
thoroughly convinced--“it's clear enough that there's something that he
wants to hide. Lord help us! but these things are terrible.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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