It was sad to see a man of such intelligence and capacity defying public respect and opinion, and trampling upon every sense of right and propriety.  There is generally a reason, if we can only discover it, why people outrage public opinion, and break out of the stream and path of their fellow-men.

One Sunday evening, however, after a day spent as usual, in idling about and shooting little birds, our friend John was observed by a woman standing outside a church, under the window nearest to the pulpit.  He stood there, listening very attentively to the sermon, till it was over; and then, before the congregation could come out, he made off stealthily and hastily, to escape observation.  But passing near the woman who had been watching him, she heard him say, with a look of distress on his countenance, “It’s no use—­the devil’s sure to have me!  It doesn’t matter!”

This woman told me on Monday morning what she had seen and heard; so I determined to go at once and see the man.  It was not his dinner-time yet; but I thought I would have a little conversation with his wife before he came home.  To my surprise, however, I found him there.  “What, not working today, John?” I said.  “What’s the matter?”

“I ain’t very well,” he answered.  “I got no sleep last night; but I mean to work in the afternoon, for all that,” he continued, with an air of determination and defiance.

“What’s the matter?  Have you got anything on your mind?” I inquired.

“Mind?” he repeated, as if in contempt at the thought.  “There is not much that ever troubles my mind.”  He then went on to give me a long account of his bodily ailments.

“But do you never think about your soul, John?” I asked; “never think about another world and eternity?”

“Soul and eternity!  I don’t believe in either the one or the other of them!”

“Not believe you have a soul!  Come, John, I am sure you know better than that.”  And I went on to speak of the joys of heaven and the bitter torments of hell; of the love of God, who willeth not the death of the sinner, but rather that he should turn and live; and then I proceeded to tell him of the atonement which Jesus Christ finished on the cross, and that now there is pardon for the vilest sinner through the efficacy of the blood which has been shed once for all.

“You know, John,” I continued, “that I do not care to argue about these things.  There is mercy for you, if you will have it.  We can bring water to the horses, but we cannot make them drink.  My business is to put the way of pardon and salvation plainly before you; and after that, if you reject it, it will be your own fault if you perish.  Do you know how to get forgiveness of sins?”

He seemed very uneasy all the time I was speaking; and at length, after a pause, he looked me in the face with a hardened expression, and said, “There’s no pardon for me—­I know it.”

“That cannot be,” I said; “I do not believe it.”