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“And so,” Gösta resumed, “"the pastor says to
the thief, ‘Do not steal!’ and to the evil man,
‘You must not beat your wife;’ and to the cripple, ‘You
must believe in God and not in the devil and in
goblins!’ But the thief answers, ‘Give me bread!’
and the evil man answers, ‘Make us rich, and we
will not quarrel;’ and the cripple says, ‘Teach me
better.’ But who can help them without money?”
“It is true, true every word,” cried the old man.
“They believed in God, but more in the devil, and
most in the witches of the hills and the gnomes in
the barns. All their rye was destroyed in the
brandy-still. There seemed no end to the misery. Want
reigned in most of the grey huts, and hidden sorrow
made the tongues of the women very sharp.
Discomfort drove the men to drunkenness. They
cannot manage their fields and cattle properly. They
distrust the squire and make game of the parson.
What could you do with them? What I spoke
to them from the pulpit they did not understand;
what I tried to teach them they would not believe—and
none to consult with, and none to help me
keep my courage up.”
“There are men who have borne it,” said Gösta.
“God’s mercy has been so great to some that they
have not returned from that life as broken men.
Their strength has sufficed; they have survived
the loneliness and poverty and hopelessness. They
have done the little good they could and have not
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