Thus there was in Bryngelly a little girl of ten, a very clever and highly excitable child, Jane Llewellyn by name, born of parents of strict Calvinistic views.

As it chanced, some months before the opening of this story, a tub thumper, of high renown and considerable rude oratorical force, visited the place, and treated his hearers to a lively discourse on the horrors of Hell.
In the very front row, her eyes wide with fear, sat this poor little child between her parents, who listened to the Minister with much satisfaction, and a little way back sat Beatrice, who had come out of curiosity.
Presently the preacher, having dealt sufficiently in terrifying generalities, went on to practical illustrations, for, after the manner of his class, he was delivering an extemporary oration.

"Look at that child," he said, pointing to the little girl; "she looks innocent, does she not?
but if she does not find salvation, my brethren, I tell you that she is damned.

If she dies to-night, not having found salvation, she will go to _Hell_.

Her delicate little body will be tormented for ever and ever----" Here the unfortunate child fell forward with a shriek.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir," said Beatrice aloud.
She had been listening to all this ill-judged rant with growing indignation, and now, in her excitement, entirely forgot that she was in a place of worship.