She must have been much more so when she
was younger. In our town we were all formed upon recognised
patterns, and those who possessed any one mark of the pattern, had
all. The wine-merchant, for example, who went to church, eminently
respectable, Tory, by no means associating with the tradesfolk who
displayed their goods in the windows, knowing no "experience," and
who had never felt the outpouring of the Spirit, was a specimen of a
class like him. Another class was represented by the dissenting
ironmonger, deacon, presiding at prayer-meetings, strict Sabbatarian,
and believer in eternal punishments; while a third was set forth by
"Guffy," whose real name was unknown, who got drunk, unloaded barges,
assisted at the municipal elections, and was never once seen inside a
place of worship. These patterns had existed amongst us from the
dimmest antiquity, and were accepted as part of the eternal order of
things; so much so, that the deacon, although he professed to be sure
that nobody who had not been converted would escape the fire--and the
wine-merchant certainly had not been converted--was very far from
admitting to himself that the wine-merchant ought to be converted, or
that it would be proper to try and convert him.
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