every side, standin' up or lying down, always burnin'! No water, no light, no mercy, no hope. And when a million million years are past, still burnin', and no nearer the end than at the beginnin'. Oh, how shall I bear it—how shall I bear it?"
And big drops of perspiration oozed from his forehead and rolled down his face, testifying to the anguish of his soul.
"I canna understand it—I canna understand it," he went on. "All this pain and suffering for His glory. What kind o' glory can it be, to bring folks into the world doomed afore-hand to eternal misery? to give 'em no chance o' repentance, an' then damn them for ever 'cause they don't repent! O Lord a mercy, excuse me, but I canna see no justice in it anywhere."
And once more Joe got up and began to pace up and down in front of the fire; but the thoughts would not leave him. "'Whom He did foreknow,'" he went on, "'them also He did predestinate.' Mighty queer, that a Father should love a part o' His fam'ly an' hate the rest. Create 'em only to burn 'em for ever an' ever ! An' what's the use o' the burnin'? That bangs me complete. If't was to burn away the dross an' leave the metal, I could understand it. I think sometimes there's jist a bit o' the right stuff in me; an' if hell would burn up the bad an' leave the good, an' give it a chance of some'at better, there 'ud be more justice in it, seems to me. But what am I a-sayin'? It shows as how I'm none o' the elect, to
