And then he talks
to him of the devil, an unpronouncible place, fire and brimstone, and
endless punishment. And assures him, if ever he hopes to be happy
hereafter, he must be wretched for the rest of his life; for the
evangelical rule is, that a man is never forgiven up to the last
minute when it can't be helped. Well, every man to his own trade.
Perhaps they are right and I am wrong. But my idea is you can coax,
but can't bully folks. You can win sinners, but you can't force them.
The door of the heart must be opened softly, and to do that you must
be the hinge and the lock.
Well, to get back to my story, and I hardly know where I left off, I
think the poor gall was speakin' of Indians in a way that indicated
she felt mortified at her descent, or that somehow or somehow else,
there was a sore spot there. Well, having my own thoughts about the
wounds of the heart and so on, as I have stated, I made up my mind I
must get at the secret by degrees, and see whether my theory of
treatment was right or not.
Sais I, "Miss, you say these sort of things are bartered at the
north-west for others of more use. There is one thing though I must
remark, they never were exchanged for anything half so beautiful."
"I am glad you like it," she said, "but look here;" and she took out
of her basket a pair of mocassins, the soles of which were of moose
leather, tanned and dressed like felt, and the upper part black
velvet, on which various patterns were worked with beads.
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