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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
102
"She
has
chosen
a
perfect
spot,"
I
thought
to
myself,
for
it
was
the
wildest
bit
of
forest
I
had
seen
anywhere
in
this
neighbourhood.
At
one
side,
not
far
off,
rose
a
huge
gray
rock,
partly
covered
on
one
side
with
moss,
and
round
about
were
oaks
and
a
few
ash
trees
of
a
poor
scrubby
sort
(else
they
would
long
ago
have
been
cut
out).
The
earth
underneath
was
soft
and
springy
with
leaf
mould.--
Mr.
Purdy
was
one
to
whom
silence
was
painful;
he
fidgeted
about,
evidently
bursting
with
talk,
and
yet
feeling
compelled
to
follow
his
own
injunction
of
silence.
Presently
he
reached
into
his
capacious
pocket
and
handed
me
a
little
paper-covered
booklet.
I
took
it,
curious,
and
read
the
title:
"Is
There
a
Hell?"
It
struck
me
humorously.
In
the
country
we
are
always--at
least
some
of
us
are--more
or
less
in
a
religious
ferment,
The
city
may
distract
itself
to
the
point
where
faith
is
unnecessary;
but
in
the
country
we
must,
perforce,
have
something
to
believe
in.
And
we
talk
about
it,
too!
I
read
the
title
aloud,
but
in
a
low
voice:
"Is
There
a
Hell?"
Then
I
asked:
"Do
you
really
want
to
know?"
"The
argument
is
all
there,"
he
replied.
"Well,"
I
said,
"I
can
tell
you
off-hand,
out
of
my
own
experience,
that
there
certainly
is
a
hell----"
He
turned
toward
me
with
evident
astonishment,
but
I
proceeded
with
tranquillity:
"Yes,
sir,
there's
no
doubt
about
it.
I've
been
near
enough
myself
several
times
to
smell
the
smoke.
It
isn't
around
here,"
I
said.
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