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 with me if you want to land me. Now, I've seen a deal of this sort of religion; I was bred up in it, and I can't stand it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world are to be left to uncovenanted mercies, and that sort of thing, which means in plain English to go to hell, and the other twentieth are to rejoice at it all, why—"

"Oh! but, Harry, they ain't, they don't," broke in Tom, really shocked. "Oh, how I wish Arthur hadn't gone! I'm such a fool about these things. But it's all you want, too, East; it is, indeed. It cuts both ways somehow, being confirmed and taking the Sacrament. It makes you feel on the side of all the good, and all the bad, too, of everybody in the world. Only there's some great, dark, strong power which is crushing you and everybody else. That's what Christ conquered, and we've got to fight. What a fool I am! I can't explain. If Arthur were only here!"

"I begin to get a glimmering of what you mean," said East.

"I say, now," said Tom, eagerly, "do you remember how we both hated Flashman?"

"Of course I do," said East; "I hate him still. What then?"

"Well, when I came to take the Sacrament I had a great struggle about that. I tried to put him out of my head; and, when I couldn't do that, I tried to think of him as evil, as something that the Lord who was loving me hated, and which I might hate, too. But it wouldn't do. I broke down: I believe Christ Himself br kebroke [sic] me down; and when the Doctor gave me the bread and wine, and leaned over me praying, I prayed for poor Flashman, as if it had been you or Arthur."

East buried his face in his hands on the table. Tom could feel the table tremble. At last he looked up, "Thank you again, Tom," said he; "you don't know what you may have done for me to-night. I think I see now how the right sort of sympathy with poor devils is got at."

"And you'll stop the Sacrament next time, won't you?" said Tom.

"Can I, before I'm confirmed?"