"I'm afraid it's inherited, sister Margaret," said he. "They say he had a grand-uncle who died from the effects of drink, and that his grandfather, old Mr. Obershaw, had a great propensity that way, and that the only thing that saved him was his stinginess. Much as he loved liquor, he loved money more, and seldom drank it except at somebody else's expense." "Well, my child, let us not judge lest we be judged. Old Mr. Obershaw no doubt did a great many good deeds that we know nothing about, and as he is now in the hands of One who is all-wise and merciful, it does not become us to pass judgment on his memory. I don't see why it is that people are so censorious; I should think that after all the money that Mr. Obershaw spent in building that church and endowing it, that every sensible person would be convinced that he was a Christian, and I'm sure no one could find fault with the way in which the money he saved is being used, for there is not an institution, or a society, or object of any kind, that the Heaths don't give to." "That may all be, sister Margaret, and it's very praiseworthy, no doubt. All I said, or meant to say, was that I didn't think Jack Heath was so much to blame for drinking, as he inherited the propensity from his grandfather, who they say had the reputation of being a hard drinker." "Well, I suppose we shall all have to answer for ourselves," replied Mrs. Gildersleeve, reflectively. "And very likely it's his misfortune and not his fault." The worthy lady's capacity for forgiveness and charity was unbounded; far more ready, too, to defend than to censure, and she doubtless would have had a good word for Satan himself, had his sable majesty been captured and arraigned for judgment. VIII.