Mr. Yorke “believed fully that there was such a thing as judgment to come. If it were otherwise, it would be difficult to imagine how all the scoundrels who seemed triumphant in this world, who broke innocent hearts with impunity, abused unmerited privileges, were a scandal to honourable callings, took the bread out of the mouths of the poor, brow-beat the humble, and truckled meanly to the rich and proud—were to be properly paid off, in such coin as they had earned. But,” he added, “whenever he got low-spirited about such like goings-on, and their seeming success in this mucky lump of a planet, he just reached down t’ owd book (pointing to a great Bible in the bookcase), opened it like at a chance, and he was sure to light of a verse blazing wi’ a blue brimstone low that set all straight. He knew,” he said, “where some folk war bound for, just as weel as if an angel, wi’ great white wings, had come in ower t’ door-stone and told him.”
“Sir,” said Mr. Helstone, collecting all his dignity. “Sir—the great knowledge of man is to know himself, and the bourne whither his own steps tend.”
“Ay, ay! you’ll recollect, Mr. Helstone, that Ignorance was carried away from the very gates of heaven, borne through the air, and thrust in at a door in the side of the hill which led down to hell.”
“Nor have I forgotten, Mr. Yorke, that Vain-Confidence, not seeing the way before him, fell into
