One time they
vow he is a dancin' master, and moves his feet so quick folks can't
see they are cloven, another time a music master, and teaches children
to open their mouths and not their nostrils in singing. Now he is a
tailor or milliner, and makes fashionable garments; and then a manager
of a theatre, which is the most awful place in the world; it is a
reflex of life, and the reflection is always worse than the original,
as a man's shadow is more dangerous than he is. But worst of all, they
solemnly affirm, for they don't swear, he comes sometimes in lawn
sleeves, and looks like a bishop, which is popery, or in the garb of
high churchmen, who are all Jesuits. Is it any wonder these cantin'
fellows pervert the understanding, sap the principles, corrupt the
heart, and destroy the happiness of so many? Poor dear old Minister
used to say, 'Sam, you must instruct your conscience; for an ignorant
or superstitious conscience is a snare to the unwary. If you think a
thing is wrong that is not, and do it, then you sin, because you are
doing what you believe in your heart to be wicked. It is the intention
that constitutes the crime.' Those sour crouts therefore, by creating
artificial and imitation sin in such abundance, make real sin of no
sort of consequence, and the world is so chock full of it, a fellow
gets careless at last and won't get out of its way, it's so much
trouble to pick his steps.
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