Among them was a man that professed to be a kind of Universalist preacher. He was a boss over a number of hands, and I was told was shrewd and fond of argument, and was doing much injury in propagating his opinions. Late one evening I called at his rooms. There was no one in but his wife. I conversed with her some time, and found her a pious Christian woman. I asked her about her husband. She burst into tears, and said he was a kind husband, but a wicked man; that he preached sometimes, and was a Universalist.
While I was urging her to labor and pray for his salvation, a fine-looking man, of a haughty mien and deportment, came in.
I arose and introduced myself, and asked if he was Mr. V----, the gentleman of the house. He replied that he was. I then told him I was a colporteur visiting from house to house, selling and giving books, and talking and praying with the people.
“Oh, I have heard of you about here for two or three days. I am a Universalist, sir; I don’t believe there is any such place as hell.” I replied that it would be well for many of us if that doctrine was true, and asked him how long he had been a Universalist. He said about eight years; that his mother had belonged to the orthodox, and taught him in his early years about a terrible place called hell, and that he knew no better till about eight years ago. That for three or four years after he heard the true doctrine of the salvation of all men, he was troubled with those foolish prejudices; but for the last four years he had never had a solitary _pang_ on that subject.
I replied that it was often hard to get rid of a mother’s instructions and prayers; that it had taken the devil four years to silence his conscience, and get them put to sleep.
“Do you feel confident,” I said, “that you are this moment prepared to enter heaven if you were to die?” “Yes,” said he, “as certain as I am that the sun rises and sets.” “Well,” said I, “is not this rather a toilsome world to live in?” “Yes,” said he, “it is, and I have a full share of it.” “Then,” said I, “why not cut your throat, and go right to heaven this evening?” “Oh,” said he, “I have my wife to provide for.” “Oh,” said I, “cut her throat, and take her along.” “Oh,” said he, “that would be wrong.” “No,” said I, “if your creed is right, it cannot be wrong; and even if it should, you would be done with all the consequences of the wrong as soon as you were dead.” He hung his head, and made no further reply. I told him I hoped that he had seen the fallacy of his belief, and would at once abandon such soul-destroying opinions. I sold him several books, and left him.