Adventures in Contentment

"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.