[Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think how he could tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears, and knows the secret thoughts of the heart, and all that we do, and yet that he had dared to do all the vile things he had done.]

Wife.—­Merciful!  What you call dat?

W.A.—­He is our Father and Maker, and He pities and spares us.

Wife.—­So then He never makee kill, never angry when you do wicked; then He no good Himself, or no great able.

W.A.—­Yes, yes, my dear, He is infinitely good and infinitely great, and able to punish too; and sometimes, to show His justice and vengeance, He lets fly His anger to destroy sinners and make examples; many are cut off in their sins.

Wife.—­But no makee kill you yet; then He tell you, maybe, that He no makee you kill:  so you makee the bargain with Him, you do bad thing, He no be angry at you when He be angry at other mans.

W.A.—­No, indeed, my sins are all presumptions upon His goodness; and He would be infinitely just if He destroyed me, as He has done other men.

Wife.—­Well, and yet no kill, no makee you dead:  what you say to Him for that?  You no tell Him thankee for all that too?

W.A.—­I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is true.

Wife.—­Why He no makee you much good better? you say He makee you.

W.A.—­He made me as He made all the world:  it is I have deformed myself and abused His goodness, and made myself an abominable wretch.

Wife.—­I wish you makee God know me.  I no makee Him angry—­I no do bad wicked thing.

[Here Will Atkins said his heart sunk within him to hear a poor untaught creature desire to be taught to know God, and he such a wicked wretch, that he could not say one word to her about God, but what the reproach of his own carriage would make most irrational to her to believe; nay, that already she had told him that she could not believe in God, because he, that was so wicked, was not destroyed.]

W.A.—­My dear, you mean, you wish I could teach you to know God, not God to know you; for He knows you already, and every thought in your heart.

Wife.—­Why, then, He know what I say to you now:  He know me wish to know Him.  How shall me know who makee me?

W.A.—­Poor creature, He must teach thee:  I cannot teach thee.  I will pray to Him to teach thee to know Him, and forgive me, that am unworthy to teach thee.

[The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to make her know God, and her wishing to know Him, that he said he fell down on his knees before her, and prayed to God to enlighten her mind with the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, and to pardon his sins, and accept of his being the unworthy instrument of instructing her in the principles of religion:  after which he sat down by her again, and their dialogue went on.  This was the time when we saw him kneel down and hold up his hands.]