the last supper painting

the last supper painting
'No sight so sad as that of a naughty child,' he began, 'especially
a naughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?'
'They go to hell,' was my ready and orthodox answer.
'And what is hell? Can you tell me that?'
'A pit full of fire.'
'And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there
for ever?'
'No, sir.'
'What must you do to avoid it?'
I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was
objectionable: 'I must keep in good health, and not die.'
'How can you keep in good health? Children younger than you die
daily. I buried a little child of five years old only a day or two
since,- a good little child, whose soul is now in heaven. It is to
be feared the same could not be said of you were you to be called
hence.'
Not being in a condition to remove his doubt, I only cast my eyes
down on the two large feet planted on the rug, and sighed, wishing
myself far enough away.
the last supper painting