He helped me, you don't know how much, and I was dreadful bad once.

I used to get drunk, Ethie--drunker'n a fool, and come hiccuppin' home with my clothes all tore and my hat smashed into nothin'." Andy's face was scarlet as he confessed to his past misdeeds, but without the least hesitation he went on: "Mr.Townsend found me one day in the ditch, and helped me up and got me into his room and prayed over me and talked to me, and never let me off from that time till the Saviour took me up, and now it's better than three years since I tasted a drop.

I don't taste it even at the sacrament, for fear what the taste might do, and I used to hold my nose to keep shut of the smell.

Mr.
Townsend knows I don't touch it, and God knows, too, and thinks I'm right, I'm sure, and gives me to drink of his precious blood just the same, for I feel light as air when I come from the altar.

If religion could make me, a fool and a drunkard, happy, it would do sights for you who know so much.