"
"We deal with an enemy that never stays his hand at the cry of mercy,"
observed Meek Wolfe, "and though charity be the fruit of Christian
qualities, there is a duty greater than any which belongeth to earth. We
are no more than weak and feeble instruments in the hands of Providence,
and as such our minds should not be hardened to our inward promptings. If
evidence of better feeling could be found in the deeds of the heathen, we
might raise our hopes to the completion of things; but the Powers of
Darkness still rage in their hearts, and we are taught to believe that the
tree is known by its fruits."
Content signed to all to await his return, and left the room. In another
minute, he was seen leading his daughter into the centre of the circle.
The half-alarmed young woman clasped her swaddled boy to her bosom, as she
gazed timidly at the grave faces of the borderers; and her eye recoiled in
fear, when its hurried glance met the sunken, glazed, excited, and yet
equivocal-looking organ of the Reverend Mr. Wolfe.
"Thou hast said that the savage never hearkens to the cry of mercy,"
resumed Content; "here is living evidence that thou hast spoken in error.
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