"
Before a resolve so virtuous all impure spirits retire, taking off their
hats, and bowing down to the very ground, but apprehending Small Beer.
CHAPTER XXVIII
_Extracts from Jane Hardie's Diary._
_"March 3rd._--In my district again, the first time since my illness,
from which I am indeed but half recovered. Spoke faithfully to Mrs. B.
about her infidel husband: told her not to try and talk to him, but to
talk to God about him. Gave her my tract 'A quiet heart.' Came home
tired. Prayed to be used to sharpen the sickles of other reapers.
_"March 4th._--At St. Philip's to hear the Bishop. In the midst of an
excellent sermon on Gen. i. 2, he came out with the waters of baptism, to
my horror: he disclaimed the extravagant views some of them take, then
hankered after what he denied, and then partly unsaid _that_ too. While
the poor man was trimming his sails, I slunk behind a pillar in the
corner of my pew, and fell on my knees, and prayed (a) against the stream
of poison flowing on the congregation. Oh, I felt like Jeremiah in his
dungeon.
"In the evening papa forbade me to go to church again: said the wind was
too cold: I kissed him, and went up to my room and put my head between
the pillows not to hear the bells.
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