I listened with amazement and delight to the artless defence and severe rebuke of the woodman and his wife, and addressing them, said, "I am happy to hear you administer such a severe and just rebuke to this gentleman; and which, Sir," turning towards him, "I hope you will feel at the core of your heart, and that it will prevent your repeating elsewhere the act of meanness of which you have been guilty here--stealing a poor man's Bible, while eating his bread and cheese." "Do you, Sir, mean to insult me? I allow no one to do that with impunity." "Indeed, Sir! If speaking the truth, in a tone and style in which it ought to be spoken to a man in the attire and with the appearance of a gentleman, who enters a poor man's cottage, and, while feasting at his table, is mean enough to try to destroy his faith in his Bible, which is the well-spring of his happiness, be regarded by you as an insult, why, then, there is no alternative but to feel yourself insulted." He looked, but said no more, and tossing, rather unceremoniously, a half-crown piece on the table for the refreshment he had received, he left in high dudgeon, muttering to himself as he moved away. "These infidels, Sir," said the woodman, "in one thing are like the Pharisees of the New Testament; they won't go into the kingdom of heaven themselves, and they want to prevent others going there if they can. He began his infidel remarks before my children, but I sent them away, and told him that I would not let a child, if I knew it, get near an infected person." "I suppose you don't often meet with infidels." "More often, Sir, than I wish; for I generally find they are bad men--some bad in their habits, and all bad in their principles. The high-priest of their order lives up in yonder mansion, and he has many visitors. He used to come to our cottage sometimes, but he does not come now, as I offended him one day, by telling him that it was an act of meanness, as well as injustice, to try to cut off the stream of water from the poor families that live near it, for some miles in its course, and doing it to enrich his own meadows." "Well," said his wife, "we should pity them, and pray for them, and bless the Lord for making us to differ. It often pains my heart to think of a person living a few years in wealth and honour, and then passing into the eternal world to perish for ever. We have many troubles, yet some comforts. There, Sir," pointing to her Bible, "is our grand comforter; its precious promises speak peace to the soul, and take our hopes onwards to a better world, where the weary will enjoy rest for ever." I read the fourth chapter of Paul's Epistle to the Thessalonians, making a few comments on its last verse, adapted to the excited state of feeling occasioned by the death and burial of their little Jemima; and, after praying with them, I withdrew, yet promising to repeat my visit before my departure from Fairmount.