"
"Nothing is impossible to him that believes," said the deacon, finding
his tongue for a moment.
"Oh, I believe; there was no trouble about that: 'the devils also
believe,'--you remember that passage, I suppose? Finally, I began to
watch Sam closely, to see if perhaps he wasn't as much of a hypocrite,
on the sly, as some other people I know. He can't make much money on
the terms he has with Larry, no matter how much work reaches the shop.
I've passed his shop scores of times, early and late, and found him
always at work, except once or twice when I've seen him on his knees.
I've hung about his wretched home nights, to see if he did not sneak
out on thieving expeditions; I've asked store-keepers what he bought,
and have found that his family lived on the plainest food. That man is
a Christian, deacon. When I heard that he was to make an exhortation at
the meeting, I went there to listen--only for that purpose. But as he
talked I could not help recalling his mean, little, insignificant face
as I'd seen it again and again when I was a younger man, dropping into
justices' courts for a chance to get practice at pleading, and he was
up for fighting or stealing. It was the same face: nothing can ever
make his forehead any higher or broader, or put a chin where nature
left one off.
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