away if I ever played with my little birdie again, for God—the Ever-Lurking-Spy—always sees little boys when they do such naughty things. He curses them on earth, and—as. He never fails to write down what ever they do in His big book—He sends them to hell when they die, where they wriggle about with worms in ever consuming flames.
"With poodles?" I asked.
"Surely," quoth she.
Then to impress her words more firmly on my mind she showed me several pictures of sinners wallowing in the bottomless pit.
After that, I was sent supperless to bed, where—when I fell asleep—I raved feverishly the whole night, fancying that I was scampering as fast as I could, trying to escape grim Jehovah—running after me with a switch—and ever and anon, stumbling from giddy heights, then suddenly awaking to find myself in bed.
Terror-haunted, full of anguish, my heart bursting with contrition, motherless and almost fatherless, feeling in the Christian-like way I was brought up—that I was a dis-
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