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LL AGE DIALOGUES. > 
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 
 
 MR. WORTHY AND FAMILY, MR. LOVEGOOD, 
 AND MR. MERRYMAN. 
 
 RACTER AND EXPERIENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN 
 MINISTER EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 
 AS Henry Little worth, from a variety of circum- 
 stances, was detained some weeks at Locksbury 
 on Mrs. Chipman's affairs ; a detail of other events, 
 during that interval," may not be unacceptable to the 
 reader. 
 
 There were a few serious and godly clergymen, 
 about the neighbourhood of Brookfield, who were 
 in the habit of associating together in rotation, at 
 each other's houses, for the purpose of mutual 
 edification in their sacred work. A meeting of this 
 sort was held at Mr. Lovegood's, during the time 
 when Mrs. Chipman's affairs were in agitation. 
 At these meetings one of the ministers always 
 preached in his turn. This office now fell to the 
 lot of Mr. Merryman ; and an admirable and affec- 
 ting sermon he preached, in some respects not less 
 suitable to his own experience than to that of Mrs. 
 Clupman, from the following text : " And such 
 were some of you ; but ye are washed, but ye are 
 
 Vol. LI. B 
 
 
... 
 
 sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name of the 
 Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." This 
 sermon was not less grateful to the mind of Mr. 
 Lovegood, than consolatory to the wounded con- 
 science of the unhappy Mrs. Chipman. They say 
 also, that the sermon was blessed to Mr. Guager, 
 the exciseman of the parish, who, being himself an 
 ignorant and giddy youth, and having heard that 
 Mr. Merr} man was, till of late, one of his own 
 stamp, was struck with his warm and affectionate 
 address from the abovementioned text, and that he 
 now lives to God, as being himself also, " alive 
 from the dead." Mr. Merry man, who was supposed 
 to have some secret inclination toward Miss Worthy, 
 after this meeting continued principally the guest of 
 Mr. Worthy for some days : a Sabbath intervening, 
 an exchange of labours was mutually agreed upon 
 between Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Merryman, while 
 such a friendly and Christian intercourse proved 
 of equal advantage to both their congregations. Mr. 
 Worthy found himself very happy with such a guest 
 in his house as his domestic chaplain; and if in deep 
 thought and contemplative religion, he was inferior 
 to Mr. Lovegood, yet he was possessed of a lively 
 zeal, which rendered him a very useful minister to 
 many of his neighbours. 
 
 Under a sanctified use of his natural vivacity and 
 constitutional courage, he was ever ready to impress 
 on others the same blessed truths, by the knowledge 
 of which, a change so glorious had been accom- 
 plished on his own mind. Thus, while at Mr. Wor- 
 thy's, he would go round his pleasure grounds, and 
 talk to all his labourers ; if he stepped into the 
 stable-yard, or into any of the neighbouring cot- 
 tages, he would have some instructive hints to drop 
 that he might leave a savour of the Gospel wherever 
 he went ; and this he did in such a cheerful and en- 
 
gagim 
 
 yle, as frequently rendered him very suc- 
 cessful in his attempts. 
 
 In the days of his ignorance he was lirfit, frothv, 
 and vain ; but as soon as he was made a partaker of 
 the Grace of God, -thoiurh he retained all that be- 
 longed to his natural disposition, yet he had cheerful- 
 ness without levity, and became not less profitable 
 than lovely and pleasant in his deportment. It is, 
 however, a very supposable event, that persons of such 
 natural vivacity should fall into some mistakes ; and 
 an instance of this kind was exhibited by Mr. Mer- 
 ryman during this visit. 
 
 One morninsr he called at Thomas Newman's, 
 with whose company and conduct he was much de- 
 lighted; while there, old Susan Dowdy, an honest 
 shoemaker's wife, called in with a pair of shoes for 
 Betty, and with others belonging to the children, 
 which had been carefully cobbled. Thomas being 
 remarkably laborious, could not live without his 
 rest ; and being as remarkably honest, he could not 
 rest if he was in debt : while, therefore, he was 
 preparing to pay the demand, Mr. Merryman very 
 affectionately discharged it for him. Upon the de- 
 parture of old Dowdy, Mr. Merryman having disco- 
 vered that she knew something of the blessed reali- 
 ties of the gospel, mentioned to Thomas, that his 
 next visit should be to see her and her husband: 
 " Ah," said Thomas, " I believe she is a precious 
 old dame; but it Avas Dowdy's money made the 
 match." Betty adjoins, " My dear, that is nothing 
 to us, all have a right to settle those matters as they 
 like best:" and Mr. Merryman being frequently 
 a little absent, dropped all further investigation of the 
 subject; 
 
 On the next day the promised visit took place. 
 As soon as Mr. Merryman entered the house, he 
 
saw an active young man most diligently occupied 
 at his stall; a young woman as industriously en- 
 gaged in the household affairs ; and the notable old 
 woman at her spinning wheel, with the spectacles 
 over her nose, pulling and tugging away as fast and 
 as hard as she could ; and her husband's grandfather 
 sitting in the chimney corner, quite decrepid with 
 age. Alas for Mr. Merryman ! he first began con- 
 versing with the husband's grandfather as the hus- 
 band of old Dowdy, next with the husband as with 
 her son, and then with the other young woman as a 
 daughter, though she happened to be old Dowdy's 
 daughter by a former marriage, still supposing 
 himself perfectly correct. The family kept silence, 
 not being willing to expose themselves^ and the 
 prayer with which he concluded his visit, was a dis- 
 tinct echo of all these unfortunate mistakes. 
 
 On the evening of the day at Mr. Worthy's he 
 gave the history of his visits ; the family knowing 
 the preposterous match which had taken place be- 
 tween old Dowdy and her young husband, joined 
 in a general laugh at the expence of Mr. Merry- 
 man's blunder, — a blunder not to be corrected 
 by any apology whatever. All, however, agreed, 
 that as good men do good, even by their innocent 
 mistakes, it might answer as an excellent reproof 
 to the parties concerned ; as all such preposterous 
 matches are very contrary to that decency and 
 propriety of conduct we should be careful to main- 
 tain in our social and relative connexions through 
 hie. 
 
 It will, however, at once be admitted, that such 
 blunders were no blemishes in the character of one, 
 whose natural simplicity and undisguised integrity, 
 and whose uncommon tenderness and humanity 
 were of late become so very conspicuous. Still, 
 
whatever Mr. Merrvman did, it was all done in his 
 own way. A specimen of this was exhibited during 
 his present visit to Mr. Worthy. 
 
 On the Thursday after the Sabbath he went on 
 business to Mapleton market. A bustle was created 
 by the anxiety of a cow, in attending upon her calf, 
 while driven about the market ; and, in the bustle, 
 a board, on which an old woman had placed her 
 oranges, and apples, and gingerbread, &c. was up- 
 set : a rabble of children attempted to avail them- 
 selves of this misfortune, and began a scramble for 
 her goods. Mr. Merrvman humanely considered 
 that her little all was then at stake, and that if she 
 was permitted to be robbed of her slender stock in 
 trade the calamity would be deeply felt : imme- 
 diately he snatched an oaken stick out of the hands 
 of a gaping peasant who stood by ; drove away 
 the unruly mob, and then gave his helping hand 
 to collect the poor woman's scattered commodities, 
 and to replace them on the board. He next. gave 
 the clown a sixpence, for the use of his cudgel, who 
 doff \l his hat and thanked his honour for his kind- 
 ness : another shilling he gave to the poor old wo- 
 man, as much of her barley-sugar was so broken 
 as to be unfit for sale. She then begged leave 
 to reward Mr. Merryman's kindness with one of 
 her best oranges, which he accepted ; gave her 
 another sixpence and departed ; she sending after 
 him a thousand blessings for the kind protection 
 she had received in the hour of her distress. Her 
 next inquiry was, who the young gentleman could 
 be who treated her with such kindness, and when 
 she was told that it was Mr. Merry man, the Rector 
 of Sandover, she remarked, that she was sure he 
 must be a good Christian-hearted gentleman ; that 
 she had heard many people say, that though he 
 
 B 2 
 
10 
 
 was a sad wicked black once, yet that of late he had 
 been wonderfully reformed, and that since then he 
 had become a brave man in the pulpit, and vowed 
 she would strive hard but that she would go and 
 hear him ; and, who knows, but that the old wo- 
 wan's heart having been softened by this kind event, 
 when she was able to put her resolution into effect, 
 the word of life she heard might become " the 
 power of God to the eternal salvation of her soul !" 
 
 Perhaps the reader may judge by another instance 
 of Mr. Merryman's way of doing good, what was 
 the real style and spirit of his character. 
 
 He was in the habit of giving an occasional visit 
 to Mr. Meek, and was, as we may naturally suppose, 
 registered among the list of his contributors, that 
 Mr. Meek might not suffer a state next to starvation, 
 from the cruelty and meanness of the redoubtable 
 Rector Fillpot. 
 
 On Mr. Merryman's return from this visit, when 
 he was within three miles of Sandover, he observed 
 a poor disbanded soldier, who could scarcely totter 
 along the road, sustaining the burden of a heavy 
 knapsack, although in a deep decline, and travelling 
 home for parochial relief. The few shillings which 
 were given him upon his discharge were now ex- 
 hausted ; and the weather being warm, he could 
 afford himself no better beverage than a draft of 
 w r ater from a ditch on the road. While he made this 
 attempt he fell down and had not power to arise. 
 Mr. Merryman at first supposed he might be intoxi- 
 cated, as he observed many passing by without tak- 
 ing the least notice of him : he thought, however, 
 he would ride up to him, and enquire into the real 
 state of the case, and as soon as he discovered him 
 to be the object of such commiseration, his heart 
 began to meit ; immediately, wiping the sympathe- 
 
11 
 
 tic tear which was preparing to start from his eye, 
 placed him upon his own beast, and lead him to San- 
 dover with the greatest attention and care. 
 
 If ever humanity road triumphant, it was on this 
 occasion ; when a youth who, till of late, had been 
 so dissipated and profane, having obtained mercy 
 himself, began to exemplify it in such kind abun- 
 dance to others. Thus, as Mr. Merry man's heart 
 was teeming with compassion all the time, the poor 
 soldier was beholding, with astonishment and sur- 
 prise, the tenderness and love of his myst kind con- 
 ductor, while so many others could pass by before 
 him, without shewing even a distant inclination to 
 give him the least relief. 
 
 As soon as they arrived at Sandover, Mr. Merry- 
 man provided the poor man a lodging in a decent 
 public-house, left him half a crown for his present 
 necessities, and promised on the next day to repeat 
 his visit. It was Mr. Merryman's intention to have 4 
 sent the poor soldier home to his ow r n connexions, 
 in style more consistent with humanity ; but this 
 was soon found to be entirely impracticable ; the 
 progress of his disease becoming very rapid. He 
 lived, however, a sufficient length of time to give 
 good evidence, that he was brought to deep repent- 
 ance under a sense of the evil of sin, his former life 
 having been dissolute ; and he died with an humble 
 confidence in u the grace and mercy of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ unto eternal liie." 
 
 This lovely instance of humanity exhibited by 
 Mr. Merry man, jtfi having thus turned footman to 
 the poor soldier, made a considerable talk : and bore 
 such an odd appearance, especially in the eyes of 
 the prudish and the 101 mui, though so near a resem- 
 blance of what our Lord applauded in the merciful 
 Samaritan, that it naturally subjected him to some 
 ridicule and contempt. Mr. Spiteful said, he always 
 
12 
 
 thought him a low mean fellow, and that he was 
 much fitter to be the helper of a groom in a stable- 
 yard than to mount the pulpit ; and Mr. Arch- 
 deacon Smoothtongued objection it seems was, that 
 it was a letting down of the dignity of the clerical 
 character, and that it was all affectation, and a sort 
 of Quixote righteousness, that all the orderly clergy 
 should be ashamed of; though, it is to be feared, 
 the archdeacon himself had no righteousness of any 
 sort whatever, while Mr. Merryman's own friends 
 and neighbours well knew the integrity of his heart. 
 All that he did, in his free and easy manner, ap- 
 peared lovely in their sight, especially when they 
 considered the principle of divine grace whereby 
 he was thus constrained to act 
 
 After the above observations and anecdotes, I 
 should suppose the reader might wish to know still 
 more of Mr. Merryman, and how it was that so 
 blessed a change had been wrought upon his mind ; 
 the following dialogue shall therefore eive the reader 
 the information he wishes to receive. 
 
 The decorations designed for the Golden Lion 
 hate aire tdy jpeen noticed ; and these having been 
 speedily accomplished, as the spring was now ad- 
 vancing, Mr. Worthy and family* Mr. Lovegood, 
 and Mr. Merryman, one week-day evening, walked 
 thither to examine their effects ; and in order to 
 give proper encouragement to the worthy publican, 
 ordered that tea should be brought out, the weather 
 being then remarkably fine and serene, under a 
 large spreading pear-tree. While Mr. Worthy's 
 gamekeeper was directed to bring a casting net, that 
 they might take some trout out of the meandering 
 brook, from whence the village is named, for the 
 use of the family, and as a present for Mr. Love- 
 good : during this innocent amusement, properly so 
 called, the following conversation took place. 
 
Merryman. Pray, Sir, have you heard how Mr. 
 Dolittle is after his fall ? it has been reported he is 
 not likely to recover. 
 
 Lovegood. O no, Sir, he was not so much bruised 
 as was reported : I arr> told he is already nearly 
 recovered, and that last Sunday afternoon he was at 
 church. 
 
 Merry m. To return thanks I suppose that he did 
 not break his neck by the terrible disaster— Well, 
 well, I dare not boast that I am not as other men ; I 
 am sure I must say, " by the grace of God I am what 
 I am, 5 ' If I had still been left to myself, I know 
 that I should have been in the thickest of them. I am 
 ashamed when I recollect, for near tw 7 o years after I 
 was ordained, what a disgrace I was to my profession. 
 
 Wor. Why I am afraid, Mr. Merryman, you ne- 
 ver was in the way of good till you heard Mr. Love- 
 good at the visitation. 
 
 Merrym. Indeed, Sir, from my childhood, I never 
 had any thing placed before me but what was calcu- 
 lated to feed the corrupt propensities of my heart. 
 My poor father had but a small fortune, with a large 
 family : and though he was in the lq|v line, he did 
 not get much by his profession ; for there were too 
 many lawyers in our town ; and they were in gene- 
 ral such greedy sharks that they stuck at nothing ; 
 so that people thought it necessary to submit to any 
 thing sooner than employ a lawyer. 
 
 Wor. I am afraid then you had but a bad exam- 
 ple at home. 
 
 Merrym. I cannot recollect that there was much 
 outward immorality practised in our house, except- 
 ing that my father was much given to swearing; 
 and he never went to. church, and my mother very 
 seldom. 
 
14 
 
 Loveg. How then did your father spend his time 
 on the Sunday ? 
 
 Merrt/m. Mostly in his office, and in his business ; 
 he did ail in his power to avoid the expence and trou- 
 ble of keeping a clerk. 
 
 JLovev. Was there then no outward skrn or cere- 
 mony kept up in your family, from which you might 
 gather the existence of a God ? 
 
 Merym. It grieves me to say, I was bred up in 
 perfect ignorance. We had not even with us the 
 decent form of asking a blessing over our meals. 
 
 Wbr. How then came your parents to think of 
 breeding you up to the church, as it is called? 
 
 Merry m. O, Sir, though it was my father's de- 
 sign to have educated me in his own profession ; yet, 
 from my infancy I never could fix on any thing. 
 And the dry study of the law was so contrary to my 
 natural inclinations, that my father could never get 
 me to submit to it at any rate. While I was fag- 
 ging at the office, I would make any excuse to go 
 and shoot the sparrows off the peas and fruit in the 
 garden. In the summer I would run away and shew 
 all possible tricks and fancies as an expert swimmer 
 and diver ; and in the winter, during a hard frost, 
 he could never keep me off the ice ; while I was as 
 proud and vain of my ability as a skaiter, as I was 
 gratified and pleased with the admiration of the 
 spectators. 
 
 JVor. But it must be acknowledged these are 
 among the more innocent of the diversions of youth, 
 though it is a difficult matter to correct young minds 
 in the excess of these pleasures : and when the incli- 
 nations are captivated by them, no wonder if such 
 should be given over to an idle and dissipated frame 
 of mind ail the days of their lives. 
 
 Merrym. I don't know that I first pursued these 
 
13 
 
 pleasures with what may be called an immoral de- 
 sign : but, from the unguarded levity of my mind, I 
 soon found that this disposition grew up with me, 
 and that I was entirely captivated and overcome by 
 them : so that after I was ordained, I am ashamed 
 to think, how much more I was wedded to my 
 sports than to the church : and though I did all in 
 my power to put on a little decency in not running 
 after them quite so eagerly on a Sunday as on a 
 week-day ; yet, notwithstanding the day, if I heard 
 of a hare, or a covey of partridges, being near my 
 house, I was sure to be after them. And as for skait- 
 ing, I was no sooner out of the church but I was on 
 the ice : and I remember one Sunday, while I was 
 skaiting, an old gentleman, who was a justice of 
 peace, though since dead, sent. a constable after me, 
 begging that I would not break the Sabbath, but 
 set a better example to my parishioners. As for 
 other idle amusements, such as cricket matches, 
 hunting and coursing, I was at all times a ringleader 
 in these sports. And after I had done with my out- 
 of-door diversions, the rest of my time was sure to 
 be spent at a playhouse, or in a ball or billiard room, 
 or at a card- table : even such a low paltry amuse- 
 ment as a puppet-shew, or a country wake or revel 
 would captivate ray attention, and draw me aside ; 
 I am quite ashamed of myself, to think how giddy 
 and foolish 1 have been. In short, I was captivated 
 by every vain amusement but those of cock-fighting 
 and buli-baiting ; these abominable exhibitions of 
 cruelty, even at that period, to me were very dis- 
 gusting. 
 
 Wor. But did it not strike you that hunting, and 
 especially horse-racing, were but very little less cruel 
 than bull-baiting or cock-fighting? 
 
 Merrym. Yes, thoughts of that sort would at 
 times occur ; but it was in my heart to " run with 
 
16 
 
 the multitude to do evil:" and I have since experi- 
 enced, that we know nothing of the real tenderness 
 which possesses the Christian, till the living power 
 of Christianity has been communicated to our hearts, 
 
 Loveg. Then you must have been sadly out of 
 your element when you got into orders. 
 
 Merry m. Indeed I was, excepting when I turned 
 soldier ; and got a captain's commission during the 
 war ; and when the salutary advice of the bishops 
 came out against us, to support, by our conduct and 
 advice, our excellent civil constitution, but not to turn 
 our black coats into red ones, I confess I very much 
 disliked it. For nothing but worldly motives was I 
 sent into the church, and while I hated my black 
 coat, I hated equally my contemptible inconsistency 
 all the time I wore a red one. 
 
 Wor. Alas, how much it is to be lamented, that 
 matters of such infinite importance should be given 
 over into such hands ! In this instance, what man 
 did as evil, God has overruled for good. But you 
 have not yet told us, while you was in such a 
 thoughtless state, how you came to think of the 
 church. 
 
 Merry m. Indeed, Sir, that never was a thought 
 of mine. But when my father and uncle, who had 
 the family estate, were together, he used to swear, 
 that I was so thoughtless and inattentive, that I 
 should never get my bread by law, physic, or trade, 
 and that I should be fit/or nothing but a parson. 
 My uncle, therefore, promised him, that if he 
 would send me to the University, as he had two 
 livings belonging to his estates, he would give me 
 one of them, provided none of his own children 
 chose to take orders, And as all my cousins were 
 much fonder of the sea and the army than of the 
 church, I was obliged to submit to the penalty of 
 being turned into a parson for the sake of a living. 
 
And when the living of Sandover became vacant, my 
 uncle gave it to old Mr. Mumble, who was between 
 seventy and eighty, on condition that I should be his 
 curate ; and I had not been his curate above nine 
 months before he died, and then my uncle presented 
 me with the living. 
 
 Wor. I thought it was common to put mini- 
 sters into possession of livings, on condition of a re- 
 signation. ._* 
 
 Merry m. Yes, but my father, as a lawyer, knew 
 that no liw whatsoever could compel any minister 
 to resign his living if he chose to keep it ; so he sup- 
 posed this was the safest way. 
 
 Wor. What terrible merchandise is made of il'Jt 
 souls of men by such a traffic, and how ruinous is it 
 in its consequences to real religion in the church ! 
 
 Merry m. I am sure this had nearly proved my 
 ruin ; for after this matter was determined upon, I 
 was to he packed oB to a public school, where every 
 thing like religion was as much out of the question as 
 it well could be, excepting that we were all compell- 
 ed to go to church on a Sunday. 
 
 Loveg. When I received the first rudiments of 
 my education at the free grammar school at Beachly, 
 we had never the least intimation given us, even in 
 a formal way, about religion : but in my time I found 
 it much worse at the University than at Beachly. 
 
 Merry m. I am sure the state of too many of the 
 clergy can never be wondered at, when we consider 
 the method of their education for the ministry ;— 
 though in those days I was so loose &nd wild that I 
 thought nothing about the matter. 
 
 Wor. Why I thought our Universities were in 
 general repute ; and that all, who applied, might 
 avail themselves of an excellent education : at least 
 I found it so when I was there. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, your remark is perfectly just; but I 
 
 Vol. II. C 
 
18 
 
 am sorry to add, at least as it was in my days, leaving 
 religion oat of the question. You are frowned upon if 
 you are over righteous, or over wicked ; but as to 
 real spiritual religion, though I confess I am but a 
 poor judge how matters Khen stood, yet I fear it is 
 very little thought of. I remember however that 
 there were some reproachful sneers circulated against 
 a few, that since then I have heard were really 
 serious ; but they were obliged to keep themselves 
 very close " for fear of the Philistines." But I must 
 confess that, though I was kept perfectly morSl and 
 attentive while at college, yet I knew nothing of real 
 spirituality till about three months after I was curate 
 of Abley. 
 
 Mrs. Worthy. I think, Sir, you have told us be- 
 fore now, that the first serious impressions you ever 
 felt, were when you began to try to make your own 
 sermons. 
 
 Loveg. Though I had my qualms when at college 
 that all was not right, yet it was in a great measure 
 so, Madam ; for as I was accustomed to make the 
 exercises for the boys at school, and was frequently 
 occupied in the same way at the University ; I 
 thought after all this, it would be quite scandalous 
 for me to go about to buy, beg, and borrow sermons 
 after I was admitted into orders. 
 
 Mrs. JVor. Dear sir, as your coming into these 
 parts was such a blessing to our family, and many 
 more besides ourselves, we should be glad if you 
 would proceed on a subject so interesting to us all. 
 
 Loveg. Why, Madam, when I began to try to com- 
 pose my own sermons, it came into my mind that I 
 should make them somewhat like the Bible : the 
 Bishop, when he ordained us, said we should not 
 always be preaching mere moral essays; but that at 
 times we should dwell on the evangelical truths of the 
 ^ible. 
 
19 « 
 
 Wor. Well, Sir, that was good advice. 
 
 Loveg. It proved excellent advice to me, for it 
 immediately set me on the study of the New Testa- 
 ment : but, alas, I soon found the spiritual eye was 
 wanting, whereby spiritual truths alone can be dis- 
 cerned : for as to many things I found in the gospels, 
 I had enough to do to make even them out ; but when 
 I came to the epistles, I soon discovered myself to be 
 quite out of my depth, as the few pre-conceived 
 notions I had' of religion seemed to be entirely con- 
 tradicted by them. And when I had procured some 
 of the fashionable commentators of the day, such as 
 Whitby, Locke, and Zachary Pearce, the late Bishop 
 of Rochester ; all I got from them confused me but 
 the more ; as it always struck me that the comment 
 contradicted the text, and that instead of explaining 
 matters, they seemed to be explaining them away* 
 Some things were to be confined to primitive times, 
 and others restricted to the Christians, as just coming 
 from under the Jewish dispensation : and much of 
 the Bible was to mean next to nothing, because 
 it was figurative and metaphorical ; but when I came 
 to look on Zachary Pearce 5 s comment on that strik- 
 ing passage, " One thing is needful ; " notwithstand- 
 ing all his learning, that did for him completely in 
 my esteem. 
 
 Wor. Why, what did he make of it ? 
 
 Loveg. That one dish was enough for supper. 
 
 Wor. Is it possible ? what a strange letting down 
 of such a fine expression ! 
 
 Merry m. $Yes, and I remember, with shame, in 
 our different carousings with each other, in our pro- 
 fane mirth, how we used to laugh at the interpreta- 
 tion, by saying, neither one dish, nor one bottle, 
 Mould be enough for us. 
 
 Loveg. Well, well, I bless God I could get no sa- 
 tisfaction from these lame interpreters. And one 
 
20 
 
 evening, how was I struck, when, seeking for a text, 
 my eves were fixed on those words of St. Paul, in his 
 epistle to the Colossians — " Ye are dead, and your 
 life is hid with Christ in God." For a time! could 
 make nothing of the expression, till others, Very 
 similar, forcibly entered my mind, about being 
 "crucified with Christ ; " being " dead and buried with 
 him ;" and of our " being risen with him ;" and then 
 that passage in our church catechism, as it relates to 
 what is required of all baptized Christians, " a death 
 unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness." It 
 struck me that I had been directed to instruct 
 children in a doctrine which was entirely unknown 
 to my own heart, and that I was a blind leader of 
 the blind. At that moment I fell down on my knees, 
 and wept excessively ; and prayed, I think, from the 
 bottom of my heart for the first time, that i might 
 not presume to continue to be the pretended in- 
 structor of the ignorant, while so ignorant myself. 
 
 Wor. I suppose, after this, the tenor of your 
 preaching was immediately altered. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, the change was still gradual. I knew 
 I was wrong, but 1 did not know how I could be set 
 right ; but herein the providence of God wonderfully 
 favoured me. 
 
 Merrym. I have often heard you explain the na- 
 ture of our conversion from sin to God ; but I never 
 heard you explain so particularly the nature of your 
 own conversion. — I wish you would proceed. 
 
 Loveg. When first I came to my curacy, I was 
 told that five or six people went regularly, Sunday 
 after Sunday, to hear the Rev. Mr. Slapdash, 
 who has a small living in those parts. He is an 
 animated bold preacher ; and is attended by a large 
 congregation ; and I never could hear but that his 
 zeal is tempered with prudence ; and that he is a 
 good man : and that, though he has a strong, ra- 
 
pid, hasty way of expressing himself, yet what he 
 delivers is entirely consistent with the sound truths 
 of the gospel. Still their absenting themselves from 
 the church gave considerable offence to the pride of 
 my heart, not knowing that it was my ignorance 
 which drove them at a distance. 
 
 One Sunday, however, these young men, con- 
 trary to their usual custom, stopt at home to hear 
 me. It was about the time when that text of scrip- 
 ture so impressed my mind. Ignorance of my Bible, 
 and consequently, unfitness for my office, intermixed 
 with other workings of corruption from the pride 
 and anger of my heart, on account of my dark pre- 
 conceived notions in religion, having been so con- 
 tradicted by the word of God, affected me not a lit- 
 tle. In this state of mind I was obliged to preach 
 as well as I could ; and I remember I was remarkably 
 low and affected on the Sunday these young men 
 stopt to hear me. And while I was preaching, I 
 saw them nodding and smiling, first at me, and then 
 at each other, in such an uncommon manner, that 1 
 could not conceive but that thev meant to be laurfi- 
 ing at me for my ignorance all the time 5 1 especially 
 as it was reported, that the man they went to hear, 
 was quite a madman. Upon this, I went the next 
 day, in order to converse with them on what I; con- 
 ceived to be their odd conduct at church ; my mind 
 being much perplexed, and my spirits very low 5 and 
 having determined to speak to them with much mild- 
 ness ; I no sooner began to open my mouth, but 
 tears started from my eyes. I told them they should 
 not have laughed at me before all the congregation, 
 on account of what they thought of my ignorance, 
 for that I did my best ; and that 1 hoped and prayed 
 to God, if I was not right, he would set me right. 
 
 Wor. Well, and v/hat effect had this upon the 
 young men ? 
 
 € & ir- :.'»■ , * 
 
22 
 
 Loveg. Why they were as much affected as my- 
 self at rny misconceptions of them. They told me 
 that their smiles and nods were the effect not of 
 sneering contempt, but of holy approbation and joy ; 
 for they were fully persuaded that I should soon be- 
 come a faithful minister of the Gospel: : and that as 
 they never went to church while young Mr. Wanton 
 was the curate, yet as they saw me so different from 
 him, and as it was reported that I was soon like to be 
 melancholy mad, they thought I might be under 
 some serious impressions respecting the state of my 
 soul : and if I continued to preach as I had done, 
 they should soon discontinue hearing Mr. Slapdash, 
 thoughjie was a very powerful and lively preacher, 
 as they called him, and a very good man. 
 
 Wor. Then you found these young men to be 
 truly serious and good. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, and two of them I found to be useful 
 and profitable companions to me, having good un- 
 derstandings, which they had well improved by 
 reading various religious authors among themselves : 
 and I was much struck before we parted, at the great 
 modesty with which they expressed themselves, 
 wishing I would but read some of their books which 
 they read among themselves, that they might have 
 my opinion how far I approved of them. They then 
 shewed me their little library ; and one of them par- 
 ticularly requested me to read the Pilgrim's Progress, 
 with very precious notes, which they said, by way of 
 recommending it, were written by a very learned 
 man, and which I was the more willing to do, as I re- 
 membered reading it as a novel when a child. Among 
 other books, I saw they had Brown's self-interpreting 
 Bible ; and as I began to be entirely sick of my old 
 commentators, I begged to borrow it. This they 
 very readily consented to; so I put the Pilgrim's 
 Progress in one pocket, and Boston's Four-fold State 
 
23 
 
 in the other, and went home ; and when I took my 
 leave of them, I was very much surprised at their 
 humble and affectionate farewell ; following me with 
 a thousand blessings, and thanking me most affection- 
 ately for my visit. Soon afterwards I found one of 
 them at my heels with Brown's Bible, which they 
 wished me to keep as long as I chose. 
 
 Wor. Well, this was a kind providence ; but how 
 did you seem to like your new authors ? did you 
 much admire their choice of books for you ? The 
 Pilgrim's Progress, I confess, is an inimitable drama, 
 and beautifully describes the state of the real Chris- 
 tian in his spiritual progress ; yet Bunyan, in the ge- 
 neral way, happens to be the humble treasure of di- 
 vinity in the poor man's cottage ; and I fear is not so 
 often to be found in the study of a contemplative 
 divine. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, if God had conferred on me the ho- 
 nour of being the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
 I should have been tempted to be the proudest man 
 upon earth. However, the simplicity and affection, 
 of the good people I went to see, led me to cast my 
 eyes over that book a second time, very much to my 
 profit. For on the same day I shut myself up in my 
 study, and began to read : page after page, my at- 
 tention was arrested : and as I pursued the subject, 
 light continued to break in upon my mind, while it 
 brought me upon my knees again and again. I now 
 began to see, somewhat clearly, the plan of the gos- 
 pel salvation alone by Jesus Christ. Every para- 
 graph I read was intermixed with a tear of thankful- 
 ness and surprise ; and night after night I was happy 
 to be sleepless, that I might pursue the pilgrims on 
 their road, as I now began to find I could travel 
 with them, while every step appeared plain before 
 me. 
 
 Wor. It is lovely work, when we tan read and 
 
24 
 
 meditate under such a frame of mind. I remember 
 how I used to hate to read the Bible, merely be- 
 cause I couicf not understand it ; but- as soon as I 
 couid enter into its meaning, I found no ibook like it 
 I remember, some time ago, in the library at my 
 house, I laid my hands upon a book written by Bishop 
 Patrick, called the Parable of the Pilgrim, but I found 
 it a heavy perfo: mance. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, Sir, I have heard *of it ; it is a large 
 Jumpy volume, though the bishop was a serious and 
 respectable man ; yet while Bunyan keeps you awake 
 Patrick lulls you asleep. 
 
 Merrym. It seems, then, that the tinker was a 
 wiser man than the bishop, 
 
 Loveg. Why no man gets either brains or grace 
 by education or title; many gifts of this sort we may 
 receive as the gifts of the God of nature, or of pro- 
 vidence ; but a sanctified use of these blessings 
 comes only from the God of grace. Bunyan was 
 certainty a very eminent man. Once, it seems, he 
 was very profligate, but afterwards not less serious : 
 and though he had none of the advantages of edu- 
 cation, yet he certainly had a very good natural* 
 understanding, a deep knowledge of the word of God 
 and of the human heart, and at the same time very 
 rich and chaste powers of invention. Such was the 
 character of the author of the Pilgrim's Progress ; 
 and to the last moment of my life, shall I bless God 
 for that book. 
 
 Merrym. But if this formerly wicked tinker be- 
 came so good a man, and such an excellent preacher 
 and writer, is it not to be lamented that some of our 
 present preachers were not turned into tinkers, pro- 
 vided we could get such another set of tinkers to be 
 turned into preachers? 
 
 War. I perceive Mr. Merryman will be Mr. Mery- 
 man still. But we interrupt Mr. Lovegood in his story. 
 
; 25 
 
 Loveg. Why, I bless God, that I immediately 
 found myself not less charmed with my Bible than 
 with the Pilgrim's Progress ; its glorious contents, 
 begun to open surprisingly to my mind, and the 
 truths which before displeased me, I not only could 
 receive without controversy, but with supreme ap- 
 probation and delight. 
 
 Mrs* JFor. You have also told us the great advan- 
 tage you received from Mrs. Goodworth, after you 
 became acquainted with her ; perhaps Mr. Merry- 
 man does not know that circumstance. 
 
 Merrym. Who was Mrs. Goodworth ? 
 
 Loveg. She was the aged widow of a dissenting 
 minister ; and when I first came into the parish, I 
 was told that she was such an ill-natured, cross- 
 grained, dissenting bigot, that she would sooner see 
 the church pulled down, than enter within the doors. 
 But a few days after my visit to the young men, 
 they went and informed her of the result of our con- 
 versation, and the next Sunday, to my great surprise, 
 I; found her added to the number of my congrega- 
 tion ; and as much delighted and affected as were the 
 young men the Sunday before. On the Monday I 
 thought it my duty to return the visit. I found the 
 old lady nursing her grandchildren : she took me in- 
 to a little back parlour, and immediately burst into 
 tears of joy, telling me, that, through the straitness 
 of her circumstances, she was obliged to live with 
 her married daughter ; mentioning how much it had 
 affected her, having been under the necessity of 
 leaving the means of grace, by living at a distance 
 from the meeting where her husband preached, and 
 that, though she could not go after the gospel, she 
 humbly trusted the gosptrl was now sent after her : 
 that she never kept from the church out of bigotry, 
 but only because she feared Mr. Wanton, my prede- 
 very impure, and consequently a very im 
 
26 ¥ 
 
 proper man to administer the word of life to others, 
 being himself " dead in trespasses and sins;" but 
 that now she not only meant to come to church, but 
 to sacrament also, if I would permit her. She then 
 asked me to go to prayer: this was new work to me, 
 and put me to the blush. However, as I had in pri- 
 vate lately found my way to a throne of grace, I did 
 not refuse, though, if it had not been for shame, I 
 should rather have put that office upon the old lady : 
 as I am sure I needed her prayers more than she did 
 mine. Thus we parted, she sending after me many 
 blessings, and prayers for my growth in grace, and 
 for my increase in divine knowledge. The next 
 time the communion was administered, she was with 
 us at the table ; and I well remember, when I gave 
 her the elements, how affectionately she looked up at 
 me, and wept so plentifully that she even bedewed 
 my hands with her tears. What a sweet proof was 
 this of the loving and uniting spirit of the gospel, a- 
 mong all who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity ! 
 
 Wor. I have no doubt, but your acquaintance \vith 
 the good old lady was very profitable. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir ; and still more so, as I got ac- 
 quainted with her library : for though she had sold 
 some of her husband's books, yet others of them she 
 had preserved. Among these, I found many of the 
 writings of Owen, Flavell, President Edwards, Gur- 
 nall's Christian in complete Armour, Archbishop 
 Usher on the Sum and Substance of the Christian Re- 
 ligion, Bishop Downham on Justification, Bishop 
 Hall's Works, and others ; these she used to call her 
 Sunday company ; and to these I had at all times 
 free access; and about three years _ afterwards, when 
 she found herself in dying circumstances, she gave 
 me several of them as keep-sakes. 
 
 Merry m. The loss of this good old lady must have 
 considerably affected you. 
 
27 
 
 Loveg. Yes; but then her death was so glorious ! 
 On my last visit she cried, " This is not dying; 
 believers never die: I am just going to enter the 
 presence chamber of my Lord. 5 ' And then she sung 
 with peculiar melody of heart that verse from Dr. 
 Watts, (whose hymns she frequently quoted in her 
 last sickness.) 
 
 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 
 
 On thy kind arms I fall ; 
 Be thou my strength and righteousness, 
 
 My Jesus and my all. 
 
 Then she would cry out, " O, this precious believ- 
 ing in the Son of God !" " Eye hath not seen, nor 
 ear heard, neither have entered the heart of man, the 
 things which God hath prepared for them that love 
 him ;" " He hath loved me, and given himself for 
 me;" and he sheds abroad this his most precious 
 love in my heart ; and I feel it like a warm coal of 
 living fire, while I am struggling in the cold arms of 
 death. Thus she went on, blessing and praising 
 God, and triumphing in the redeeming love of 
 Christ, to the latest moments of her life ; repeatedly 
 saying, " O death, where is thy sting ! O grave, 
 where is thy victory !" O, sir, it is a glorious sight 
 to see believers departing in the triumphs of faith, 
 and with " a hope full of immortality." 
 
 Wor. No doubt, but that your acquaintance with 
 all these good people proved a considerable help, 
 though they were inferior to you in point of educati- 
 onal knowledge. 
 
 Loveg. Yes; but I found myself much inferior to 
 them in point of experimental knowledge. No earth- 
 ly wibdom, however good in its place, will do as 
 a substitute for " that wisdom which is from above." 
 But I soon got acquainted with two very excellent 
 clergymen in those parts, and with a worthy dissent- 
 ing minister, whose name was Peaceful, and who 
 
28 
 
 was in the habit of calling on Mrs. Good worth, 
 though they all lived at some distance from us. 
 
 Wor. We should be glad if you would tell us how 
 that was brought about. N 
 
 o 
 
 Loveg. Why, sir, the next Sunday, only two of the 
 young men attended the church, and I suspect the^ 
 went over to Mr. Slapdash ; for, about a fortnight after, 
 I received an anonymous, though affectionate, letter, 
 signed " Faucis inter Clerum*," mentioning their 
 exceeding joy on the report which had been com- 
 municated to them, declaring at the same time, that 
 they sought my acquaintance from the purest mo- 
 tives of Christianity, and from a desire of cultivating 
 the most affectionate intimacy with all the spiritual 
 and evangelical ministers of their own community. 
 Interwoven in this letter, there was a great number 
 of very strong and animated expressions, warning 
 me against the fear of man ; and charging me to 
 preach the gospel, and the gospel only, faithfully, 
 and directly to the sinner's heart and conscience, 
 as far as divine light broke in upon my mind ; so 
 that it immediately struck me that Mr. Slapdash was 
 the principal composer of the letter. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, and there is no doubt but this 
 proved a gracious circumstance in your favour. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, it proved a gracious circumstance in- 
 deed^ for immediately I wrote an answer to their 
 truly affectionate letter, and, a few days after, Mr. 
 Slapdash came over to my lodgings ; and how the 
 dear man rejoiced over me to find me in such a frame 
 of mind ! Indeed, all things considered, he proved the 
 best, and most suitable companion I ever met with. 
 You know I am naturally timid ; Mr. Slapdash is al- 
 together Lutheran and bold, yet not less loving and 
 affectionate; and though, perhaps, every word he, 
 
 * From a few among the clergy. 
 
advances may not be within the severer rules of mo- 
 deration, yet I believe that his bold strokes and wild 
 notes are more serviceable for the good of his neigh- 
 bours, than, all the fine set music we may have about 
 the country besides. 
 
 Merry m. How long, sir, did you continue in that 
 curacy ? 
 
 Loveg* Not much more than four years ; for when 
 I began to be serious, and to preach the salvation of 
 Christ, my Rector was soon informed of it, and wrote 
 me several letters on my " new notions of religion," 
 as he called them, which brought on a long epistolary 
 correspondence : "but when he heard that I had preach- 
 ed a funeral sermon on the death of Mrs. Good worth, 
 and that I walked with Mr. Peaceful, as a brother 
 minister, to the grave, his patience was quite exhaust- 
 ed, and he gave me warning to quit* 
 
 Wor* Why, where could be the harm of that ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, my rector had imbibed all the strange, 
 wild, high- church notions of Mr* Baubeny and 
 others, in such an extravagant manner, that he sup- 
 posed I had been guilty of the most enormous crime, 
 in preaching a funeral sermon over one that had re- 
 ceived schismatical baptism, and had lived in schism 
 almost all the days of her life. 
 
 Merry m. Why, did not your preaching bring her 
 back again to the church ? 
 
 Loveg. Yes, but all that operated against me : he 
 supposed me to be at least half a schismatic myself, 
 since such a set schismatical people ran after me. 
 And again, he had heard from the neighbouring 
 clergy, that I drew away people from their regular 
 attendance at their own parish churches : thus, for 
 having a Jull church, and for bringing Dissenters to 
 the communion, I lost my curacy ; while other cler- 
 gymen are driving Churchmen to be Dissenters with- 
 out number. 
 
 Vol, XL D 
 
30 
 
 Wor. Well, though you have often told us what 
 a painful dismissal this was to you, when you were 
 compelled to leave a congregation so seriously im- 
 pressed, and being also the first fruits of your minis- 
 try ; yet it proved a happy event for us. ^ 
 
 Loveg. Sir, God's ways are not as our ways. 
 What man designs as evil, God frequently over-rules 
 for good ; and I bless his name, I was not sent there 
 but for gracious purposes. For after I had been in 
 my curacy about three years, I thought it a call in 
 providence, that I should marry the sister of one of 
 the young men who visited me, and who was a cre- 
 ditable farmer's daughter, having a small freehold of 
 his own ; so that I got in the parish of Abley, two of 
 the greatest blessings in life, a good wife, and the 
 knowledge of the gospel. 
 
 Merrym. It is a great mercy when we can leave 
 all things in the hands of God ; " he doeth all things 
 well." 
 
 Loveg. In many instances, I found this to be the 
 case ; for being thus dismissed from my curacy, the 
 pity of many was excited towards me ; though from 
 that hour to this, I never could discover who it was 
 that represented my case to the notice of the Chan- 
 cellor, when I received the presentation to the vica- 
 rage of this parish. All that I know is, that a short 
 letter was sent, asking me the question^ that as the 
 Chancellor had heard of my character and situation, 
 he wished to know if the living of Lower Brookfield 
 would be worth my acceptance. I was happy im- 
 mediately to embrace the kind offer. Our first 
 child was born about three weeks before this event 
 took place; and just when we began to harbour 
 unbelieving fears about how we could subsit upon 
 our scanty income, this merciful event in providence 
 took place. 
 
"31 
 
 ffior. Alas, Sir, the living of Brookfield it still but 
 a scanty maintenance for yourself and family. 
 
 Loveg. Why, Sir, my curacy was but fifty pounds 
 a year, so that the living of this parish has above 
 doubled my income, besides the privilege of being 
 independent in the discharge of my duty, which was 
 never the case while I was curate of Abley. My rec- 
 tor was always saying, that I was feeding my own 
 vanity, in affecting to be more abundant and zealous 
 than others ; and as this sort of conduct indirectly re- 
 flected upon the rest of the clergy, who were con- 
 tented to do no more than what was regularly expect- 
 ed from them, he could by no means allow his curate 
 to do more than others. 
 
 Merry m. Ah, Sir, it would have been well for me, 
 if m£ living had been no better than yours ; but as it 
 is, I suppose, "above three times the value, I found 
 myself quite at liberty to run after that which I liked 
 best. Thus, from the income of my living, which I 
 received for spiritual purposes, I could procure for 
 myself all that my carnal heart would wish to enjoy. 
 
 Wor. Weil, Sir, you now know the worth of the 
 gospel since you have felt its power ; and when our 
 hearts are converted to God, we shall dedicate our 
 property to his glory. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. But, Mr. Merryman, you have told us 
 enough of the worst part of your story, but nothing 
 of the best. 
 
 Merry m. Why madam, there has been with me 
 so much of the bad, and so little of the good, that I 
 am sorry to say you will soon hear all I have got to 
 advance on that subject. 
 
 Mrs. JVor. Had you then no serious impressions 
 before you heard our minister at the visitation ? 
 
 Merrym. Madam, till that time, I was acting as 
 the vainest puppy that ever lived ; always affecting 
 the easy air of the conceited gentleman, and as 
 
 
 / 
 
 . 
 
much ashamed of my professional character as I well 
 could be; yet I by no means found myself happy in 
 my light and frothy state of mind. 
 
 Loveg. No wonder that you were ashamed of yoiar 
 professional character, while you acted as you did. 
 
 Merrym. Yes, but while I was engaged in my of- 
 fice, many a stinging conviction was brought home to 
 my mind : for while I was reading the prayers, and 
 acknowledging sin in language in itself so humble and 
 just, saying that " I had done those things which I 
 ought not to have done, and that I had left undone 
 those things which I ought to have done, and that 
 there was no health in me ; " and that " God would not 
 despise the sighings of a contrite heart, or the desires 
 ojF such as are sorrowful : " I used to think what pro- 
 fane mockery and hypocrisy it all was ; how I was 
 ashamed of myself, when I considered what people 
 must think of me, while I was reading such prayers, 
 and leading such a life ! — But in nothing was I more 
 disgusted with myself, than by the frequent petitions 
 I was obliged to make use of for the grace, and influ- 
 ence, and inspiration of God's Holy Spirit ; especial- 
 ly while I used to her many of the clergy, who were 
 no better than myself, ridicule every idea of divine 
 influences ; and when I also had in the bundle of my 
 sermons that I had either bought, borrowed, or beg- 
 ged, three that were designed to expose such preten- 
 sions to divine operations as being* nothing better 
 than downright enthusiasm. In short, Sir, I could 
 neither bear my office, nor bear myself on account of 
 my office : and no one can tell what I used to feel 
 when I was under the necessity of administering the 
 sacrament. When I had to repeat these words, " the 
 remembrance of our sins is grievous unto us, and the 
 burden of them is intolerable ; " my conscience would 
 tell me that I was uttering before God an intolerable 
 lie, and was about to take the sacrament with this 
 abominable lie in my mouth. Then ag^in I was for- 
 
~33 
 
 cibly struck after the administration, while I was re- 
 peating these words ; " And here we offer and pre- 
 sent unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls^ and bo- 
 dies, to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice 
 unto thee ;" that directly after I had been receiving 
 the sacrament, I repeated the crime by mocking God 
 with another lie ; for that I knew in my conscience, 
 I had no design whatever to devote myself to the 
 glory of God, but to continue the same loose, wild 
 way of living as before. 
 
 JLoveg. Had you many who came to the sacra- 
 ment? 
 
 Merry m. Very few, Sir ; very few indeed : and 
 when I used to see some of these grave old people 
 come with their Week's Preparation books, I won- 
 dered what they could think of me, who had been 
 running after all the vain amusements within my 
 reach throughout all the week ; if they had any reflec- 
 tion, what must they think of me t but that I was a 
 mere hireling and a wolf? 
 
 Loveg. How 7 did you use to feel when you were 
 called to visit the sick ? 
 
 Merry m. Ah, Sir, it was but seldom that the peo- 
 ple thought it worth their while to send ^fter such a 
 giddy, dissipated youth as I th^n was. On these oc- 
 casions they naturally concluded, that prayers, mere- 
 ly said from the lips of such a light frothy chap, could 
 be of little avail in the solemn moments of their disso- 
 lution. But whenever I had an office of that sort to 
 perform, no one can tell how I abhorred the task. 
 However, I used to take out my little black service- 
 book, read a few prayers over as fast as I could, and 
 then off again to my sports. I remember once I had 
 the misfortune to be called to this office from the card- 
 table ; i accordingly put the deal in my pocket, and 
 went to my hated task ; and while I was taking out 
 my book and my handkerchief, all over perfume, to; 
 
 
34* 
 
 prevent the offensive smell of a sick chamber, (for I 
 had a deal of affected delicacy about me,) I whisk'd 
 out all the cards, while the nurse had to pick\hem 
 up again — and then I went to my devotions ! 
 
 JVor. It is a great mercy, that the wickedness and 
 enmity of your heart did not prevent your giving a 
 serious hearing to Mr. Lovcgood, w T hen he preached 
 the visitation sermon. 
 
 Merrym. Sir, in all my levity and wickedness, 
 while I could join with others in skits and jokes 
 against real religion, yet I had a sort of secret respect 
 fbr those who were truly serious and consistent : I 
 was convinced their characters were preferable to 
 mine. My principal mischief arose from a light and 
 trifling and frothy spirit, by which I was entirely 
 captivated, till my heart, I trust, was instructed to 
 know somewhat of the grace of God in truth. 
 
 Loveg. Well, I bless God, being of a more stu- 
 dious turn of mind I was kept from the same ex- 
 cess of vanity ; nor could I bear the company of the 
 more dissolute of the rest of our body^ but, if more 
 decent, I was not less ignorant of the way of salva- 
 tion revealed in the Bible, than yourself; and in our 
 neighbourhood there lived another clergyman, known 
 by the name of Mr. Soberman, who was very correct 
 and chaste in the whole of his deportment : we still 
 keep up a very friendly intercourse with each other ; 
 tiiough he always told me I had gone too far. I am 
 satisfied of this ; we should ever speak well of good 
 wherever we find it ; and I should be happy if, in every 
 country and in every line of life, men of such cha- 
 racters were more universally to be found. It would 
 be horrid indeed, if all the clergy were equally dis- 
 solute and profane. 
 
 Merrym. O, sir, it fell to my lot to be acquainted 
 with a sad sample of the worst men of every cha- 
 racter ! Some of these were professed libertine Deists, 
 and among the clergy themselves I found some De« 
 
ists in disguise- But what can be expected from the 
 church under present circumstances ? You know, sir, 
 at the time of our public ordinations, near the Uni- 
 versities, what scenes are exhibited, when a set of 
 such thoughtless youths take upon them this most 
 sacred office. If the world knew half our tricks, 
 how they would hate us for our hypocrisy ! 
 
 Wor. I confess, all who truly love the church can- 
 not but lament how ill she is served- But what was 
 it that so impressed your mind while you heard Mr. 
 Lovegood preach his visitation sermon ? 
 
 Merrym. Why, sir, when we heard that Mr. 
 Lovegood was to be the preacher, as we had been 
 informed of his character before, we were all atten- 
 tion, some out of envy, and others out of curiosity, 
 and a few perhaps out of good will ; but as I so 
 hated myself on account of my office, I thought I 
 had no right to blame others, whose lives were more 
 consistent than my own. So that, I confess, I at- 
 tended not only without any prejudice, but rather 
 with a strong prepossession upon my mind, that I 
 should hear somewhat well worthy of my attention. 
 
 Loveg. ( To Mr. Worthy) Sir, as we have done 
 tea, if I am to be made the subject of conversation, 
 I shall withdraw and desire Edward to take away his 
 tea equipage, and sit a little while with poor Mrs. 
 Chipman. I wish to put these few sheets into her 
 hands \lie reads the title page] " The Tempestuous 
 Soul calmed by Jesus Christ." 
 
 Mr. Lovegoodhaving thus withdrawn, the present 
 dialogue shall be concluded, that the reader's atten- 
 tion may have time to rest before he hears more of 
 Mr. Merry man, and of the gracious influences of the 
 gospel, which wrought so wonderfully on his mind, 
 and which produced such pleasing consequences on 
 his ministry and on the whole of his life and conver- 
 sation. 
 
36 
 
 DIALOGUE XIX. 
 
 THE SECOND PART OF THE SAME DIALOGUE 
 CONTINUED. 
 
 WITH 
 
 THE CHARACTER OF THREE SORTS OF MINISTERS, RE- 
 PRESENTED IN CONTRAST WITH EACH OTHER. 
 
 BEFORE Mr. Merryman favours us with a far- 
 ther narration on the subject of his experience, 
 perhaps it might not be unacceptable to my readers, 
 were they to be advertised, that there were two 
 other ministers in the same neighbourhood, nearly of 
 the same name as Mr. Slapdash, before-mentioned, 
 Mr. Slopdash, and Mr. Taplash. The character of 
 Mr. Slapdash has sufficiently appeared from the 
 former dialogue. Mr. Slopdash would frequently 
 boast that he was of the same family with Mr. Slap- 
 dash ; but, by all accounts, the relationship was very 
 distant indeed. It is charitably to be hoped that Mr. 
 Slopdash was a good man. But while Mr. Slapdash 
 had a mind warm and animated, the other was ve- 
 hement and rash, and would often insult his hearers 
 with gross personal reflections, which were too fre- 
 quently administered with great indiscretion ; and 
 this he called faithfulness. Mr. Slapdash could also 
 give hard slaps when needed ; . but, in general, they 
 were administered with discretion; and if at any 
 time, through the natural rapidity of his constitu- 
 tion, he failed, yet being possessed of the "-meek- 
 ness and gentleness that was in Christ/' his mistakes 
 were soon corrected. 
 
37, 
 
 Mr. Slopdash had a mind that was naturally low, 
 vulgar, and coarse. The sentiments of Mr. Slap- 
 dash, on the contrary, were elevated and pure. If 
 ever he descended, it was like the 'swallow, just to 
 dip the tip of his wings in the stream, and again 
 ascend. But Mr. Slopdash was quite the duck ; he 
 could go down into the filthy kennel of human cor- 
 ruption, and turn it up from the very bottom, and 
 then glory in his performance* Mr. Slapdash, after 
 he had taken his text, would for a while stick to it, 
 and give it a very just and correct interpretation ; 
 though, afterwards, from the warm and animated 
 frame of his mind, he would branch out, yet so as 
 to surprise his hearers, by a brilliancy of thought 
 peculiar to himself. His severer hearers would 
 blame him for these eccentricities, and call him a 
 rambling preacher; though still he was correct in his 
 divinity, and well intentioned in his design ; and in 
 all his ramblings he was still sure to keep upon holy 
 ground. 
 
 Mr. Slopdash, on the contrary, when he had taken 
 2 text, would not so much consider its sense, as its 
 sound; and would conceive himself wonderfully 
 clever if he could hit upon a meaning, the most pre- 
 posterous and absurd, by way of explaining a passage 
 the most perspicuous and plain. He once vociferated 
 for an hour on this text : " Behold, says Pharaoh's 
 baker, I had three white baskets on my head." 
 Gen. xl. 16. and from hence he proved the doctrine 
 of the Trinity, whereby he astonished his auditory 
 not a little, and pleased them hugely ; for they never 
 heard before, that the three baskets meant the three 
 person^ in the Trinity. 
 
 He also proved nearly the same doctrine from the 
 history of Esther ; that Ahasuerus was God the Fa- 
 ther, that Mordecai was God the Son, that Esther 
 was the Church, and that Human was the devil. As 
 
38 
 
 to myself, I rather doubt the justice of sthe interpre- 
 tation ; for, if we abide by it, that the devir was 
 hung, upwards of two thousand three hundred years 
 ago (though he certainly deserved it), it is impossible 
 to suppose, that such a wonderful deal of mischief 
 could have been done by a dead devil ever since. 
 It is, however, charitably to be concluded, that the 
 defects of Mr. Slopdash were not in his heart, but 
 in his head. His brains were unfortunately very ill 
 screwed together, though had they been screwed 
 too close, certainly many of his floating ideas would 
 have been terribly cramped; but, as it happened, 
 matters with him were in a very contrary extreme, 
 many of the screws in his brains being remarkably 
 loose. No wonder, therefore, that this shatter- 
 brained divine should, by the rattling and lax state 
 of his tongue, evidence so strongly, the loose state 
 of his brains. Mr. Siopdash was driven, with others 
 of the same mind, into this wild way of interpret- 
 ing the Scriptures, not only in the above instances, 
 but in a variety of others, equally as absurd, from 
 having admitted too slight notions of the necessity 
 of the practical and preceptive part of the Word of 
 God. Hence -he had almost run into the abominable 
 idea, urged by some Ranters of late and modern 
 times ; that " the law is no rule of life to a believer : ?? 
 but his mind was not altogether so vitiated, as to 
 admit a doctrine, so grossly blasphemous, against 
 the holiness of God. 
 
 There was another Mr. Slopdash, however, not far 
 distant, equally as ignorant, but of a much worse 
 disposition: with him neither Mr. Lovegood nor 
 Mr. Merry man could keep up the least possible con- 
 nexion, as his doctrine had, at all times, a secret 
 tendency to prove his hatred to holiness ; and his life 
 was no better than his doctrine. This, therefore, 
 rendered him a very dangerous .preacher \ while 
 
39 
 
 many were found, who, being as Ignorant as himself, 
 were eager to swallow down his insulting dogmas, 
 as if they were consistent with those pure and holy 
 truths which are revealed in the Word of God. 
 
 He once exemplified his horrid art, in thus per- 
 verting the Scriptures, while he made a preachment 
 from these words; " Before the cock crow, thou 
 shait deny me thrice.' 5 He actually misconstrued 
 this holy word of caution, or rather prophecy, given 
 by our Lord to his presumptuous disciple. Peter, 
 into an express command, " Thou shalt deny me;" 
 and thus proved that the law c6uld not be a rule of N 
 life to a believer. 
 
 I was told also, on another occasion, he exhibited 
 on this text: " It is better to dwell in a corner of 
 the house top, than with a brawling woman in a 
 wide house." First, he insisted upon it, that the 
 Proverbs are not to be considered in a moral, but a 
 gospel point of view. That the brawling woman, 
 was the Law ; and that dwelling in the corner of 
 the house, meant being shut up in the Church, and 
 there the Law could not brawl at us, as all in the 
 Church were in a justified state : but in regard to 
 those who were living in the wide house, these repre- 
 sented such as were living in the wide house of the 
 world, and they would hear the braxv lings of the 
 law, scolding them for their wickedness. So that 
 this Mr. Slopdash had no idea of the w iekedness he 
 was guilty of, in giving such a view of the just and 
 holy law, by comparing its most righteous sentence, 
 against our unrighteousness, to the brawling of an 
 angry woman. 
 
 If I have not already exhausted the reader's pa- 
 tience, he shall have some further evidence how this 
 man could pervert the wise book of Proverbs, into 
 language the most preposterous and absurd. " He 
 that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man : he that 
 
40 
 
 loveth wiiie and oil shall not be rich.'' Having 
 thrown aside the common-sense interpretation of 
 the passage, as directing us to avoid the love of 
 sinful pleasure, he insisted upon it, that the plea- 
 sure here meant was the pleasure of true godliness, 
 and that the wine and oil" meant the spiritual bless- 
 ings of the gospel : "he shall be a poor man" he ex- 
 pounded as meaning " poor in spirit ;" not rich 
 in his own esteem* After the same wild and fool- 
 ish way, he interpreted what Solomon says of the 
 four things that disquiet the earth : "A servant 
 when he reigneth ;" that is, said he, when we who 
 once were the servants of sin, reign with Christ: 
 " A fool when he is filled with meat," that he inter- 
 preted, as meaning, when we " fools becauseof trans- 
 gression," are filled with heavenly food* Perhaps it 
 would have suited as well, had he said, that it meant 
 himself, when his gaping admirers gave him a good 
 dinner for talking nonsense. " An odious woman, 
 when she is married," he says, was designed to repre- 
 sent the marriage of the odious sinner to Christ ; 
 and " A hand-maid, when she is heir to her mistress," 
 was to mean how we sinners are made heirs of God, 
 and joint heirs with Christ ! ! ! I am satisfied, after all 
 these instances, from the abovesaid Mr. Slopdash, 
 respecting his method of interpreting the Scriptures, 
 he will be quite contented if I suppress others, some 
 of them being even indecent, and all of them as 
 absurd and. preposterous as any of the former* And 
 indeed the other Mr. Slopdash, who w r as known to 
 Mr. Lovegood, tired his patience till it was quite 
 exhausted; while Mr. Merryman, for a longtime, 
 attempted to convince him of the impropriety and 
 absurdity of such interpretations of Scripture. But 
 as there is a certain degree of pride and posiavity 
 belonging to the whole of the tribe, ail Mr. Merry- 
 man got, was the pity of Mr. Slopdash, who always 
 conceited his own ignorance was superlative wisdom, 
 
41 
 
 and that the wisdom of others was to be accounted 
 their ignorance. 
 
 Through the sides of Mr. Slopdash, however, the 
 Rev. Mr. Taplash, minister of a little, gay, gossiping 
 town, in that neighbourhood, called Clack, would 
 make his most vehement attacks against Mr. Slap- 
 dash ; and, indeed, against every other minister, 
 who with unaffected simplicity, and godly sincerity, 
 preached the Gospel to the consciences of his hear- 
 ers. These he would charge as being all alike, sup- 
 posing that the follies of some were equally im- 
 putable to all ; and though he was a man of no 
 great consequence or worth, but in his own esteem ; 
 yet w 7 here truths are naturally disliked, any sort of a 
 witness will be readily admitted against them. 
 
 Elegance of composition, and a genteel delivery, 
 were all that Mr. Taplash could admire, which he 
 thought were wonderfully accomplished in himself, 
 while he wats dealing, with all possible affectation, 
 his flimsy, frippery, unsentimental harangues, as a 
 very acceptable treat, to those who could be gratified 
 wdth empty sounds, and a mere parade of words. 
 
 The orator, when he first made his appearance, 
 would be primmed and dressed up in the most finished 
 style ; not a hair would be found out of place on his 
 empty pate, on which the barber had been exercising 
 his occupation all the Sunday morning, and powder- 
 ed till as white as the driven snow. Thus elegantly 
 decorated, and smelling like a civet-cat, through an 
 abundance of perfumery, he would scent the air as 
 he passed. Then, with a most conceited skip, he 
 would step into the pulpit, as though stepping out 
 of a band-box ; and here he had not only to display 
 his elegant production, but his elegant self also ; 
 his delicate white hand, exhibiting his diamond ring, 
 while his richly-scented white handkerchief was un- 
 furled, and managed with remarkable dexteritv and 
 
 Vol. II. E 
 
42 
 
 art. His smelling-bottle was rfext occasionally pre- 
 sented to his nose, giving different opportunities to 
 display his sparkling ring. Thus having adjusted 
 the important business of the handkerchief, and the 
 smelling-bottle, he had next to take out his glass, 
 that he might reconnoitre the fair part of his audi- 
 tory, with whom he might have been gallanting, 
 and entertaining with his cheap talk, the day before; 
 and these, as soon as he could catch their eye, he 
 would favour with a simpering look and a graceful 
 nod. 
 
 Then as to his devotions : these were performed in 
 a remarkably gentleman-like manner; though the best 
 of it was, that they were no sooner begun than they 
 were ended : the same also may be said of his ser- 
 mons, they were special short; fifteen minutes, being 
 the full length of the sermon of a fashionable divine, 
 he never exceeded. While the ingredients of all 
 his compositions seemed to be nothing better than 
 flimsy declamations, and religious compliments, 
 he would be talking of " the reward we were to 
 receive, from the fair hand of our own virtuous con- 
 duct, which, at a very easy rate, we might secure to 
 ourselves, as our religion by no means secluded us 
 from innocent amusements;" doubtless referring to 
 the card-table, tlie ball-room, and the theatre, 
 u which we were all permitted to enjoy, in order 
 that we might return to the service of our Maker 
 with a greater relish and delight ;" and it is reported, 
 that he once actually composed a prayer for a reli- 
 gious young lady, on her confirmation, after she had 
 discharged her godfathers and godmothers from that 
 vow on her behalf; " to renounce the pomps and 
 vanities of this wicked world, and all the sinful lusts 
 of the flesh!" 
 
 Mr. Taplash, would also, at times, adorn his ha- 
 rangues with scraps of poetry, principally culled out 
 
of Shakespear's plays ; and at one time, after a very 
 tasty specimen of his elocution, in which he had been 
 displaying the rich repast conscious virtue brought 
 home to the pious mind, he thus concluded, with 
 the following verse out of Thomson : 
 
 m Come, then, expressive silence, muse her praise." 
 
 The orator stood as all astonished at the excellency 
 of his own harangue : gave a very elegant congee to 
 his auditory, and then most gracefully sat down. 
 
 A text of Scripture, or even the name of Christ, 
 could scarcely ever find admission into the sermons 
 of Mr. Taplash. In one of his fine moral harangues, 
 descanting upon the beauties of virtue, and the ex- 
 cellencies of a virtuous life, he thus addressed his 
 auditory, in a sentiment he had gathered from an 
 heathen orator: " Virtue, thou fairest of names, 
 w r hose enchanting power can sooth even the savage 
 breast! Virtue, I say, couldst thou come down 
 dressed in human shape, and in all thy beauteous 
 array, surely thy godlike appearance would win the 
 foulest heart, and all the world would at once adore 
 thee as a goddess supremely blessed ; and in them- 
 selves, also, not less supremely blessed, w r hen graced 
 with the influences of thy most tender and transport- 
 ing charms. O ! thou goddess, divinely glorious, 
 descend, and let us see thy lovely features, that we 
 may all adore !" 
 
 At once the buzz of universal applause was heard 
 throughout the congregation, as most grateful in- 
 cense, offered up to feast the pride and vanity of the 
 preacher. But soon afterwards, this very fine speech, 
 so very finely delivered, happened to meet with a 
 terrible mishap ; for a gentleman of property asked 
 Mr. Taplash, to lend his pulpit to old Mr. Blunt, a 
 worthy clergyman in that neighbourhood, which he 
 could not well refuse, though much against the grain. 
 
44 » 
 
 He having been informed of this fine speech, quoted 
 it almost verbatim as it was delivered ; then added, 
 " Virtue did once descend in human form, dressed in 
 the person of God our holy Redeemer, and adorned 
 in the perfection of excellence. And did the world 
 admire him for the beauties of his holiness, or adore 
 him for his lovely charms ? Just the reverse ; was 
 he not hated because he was lovely ? and was not the 
 cry against him, crucify him, crucify him ? and $id 
 they cease their vindictive cry, till they had put him 
 to death, even the ignominious death of the cross ? 55 
 Never was Mr. Taplash's smelling-bottle so much 
 needed as upon this occasion ; and he used it very 
 plentifully, while his pretty countenance at once red- 
 dened like the rose ; nor could the auditory tell what 
 they should think of themselves, that they could 
 be so led away by the weak harangues of Mr. Tap- 
 lash, which w r ere so easily refuted by the sound sense 
 of Mr. Blunt. 
 
 If ever Mr. Taplash appeared a little more than 
 commonly warmed and animated, it was when he 
 was preaching against fanatics and modern enthu- 
 siasts. On these occasions, he would be always de- 
 scanting on the powers of reason, whom he would 
 dress up as another of his goddesses ; that the Al- 
 mighty had given her sufficient powers for the re- 
 formation of mankind ; or if she should fail, con- 
 science would be called in to lend her aid, whom he 
 would call " the sacred monitor of the Deity — the 
 vicegerent of the Almighty in the human bosoni — the 
 mirror of merit, from whence we receive the con- 
 scious reward of every virtuous action." Such would 
 be some of his fulsome compliments to the corrupted 
 heart of man ; and such was the style of this wretched 
 fribble in a cassock. 
 
 And now the reader shall be left to determine 
 whether of the two is the more disgusting ; the ig- 
 
4c 
 
 norance and vulgarity of Mr. Slopdash, or the con- 
 ceitedness, pedantry, and puppyism of the genteel 
 and elegant Mr. Taplash. Having thus represented 
 these great characters before the reader, the dialogue 
 shall be now continued. 
 
 Worthy. Well, Mr. Merryman, as Mr. Love- 
 good is withdrawn, you may speak with the more 
 freedom ; how that good man hates praise, though 
 no person upon earth so well deserves it ! 
 
 Merryman. Why, Sir, the very style in which, he 
 mentioned his text, struck me not a little. You 
 know in what a grave and solemn manner he alwavs 
 reads the word of God. Iremember the text, " Watch 
 thou in all things ; do the work of an evangelist ; 
 make full proof of thy ministry." On that occasion, 
 he wisely judged it might be most advisable to read 
 his sermon ; though I always like him best when 
 he preaches from the fulness of his own heart ; 
 but he knew that extempore sermons are sure to give 
 offence to the clergy, especially in their present state. 
 That sermon he afterwards lent me for my private 
 perusal ; and what a sermon it was ! What a con- 
 trast he displayed between the carnal ministers of the 
 world, who neither know their Lord's voice, nor seek 
 to know it, and the spiritual and faithful ministers of 
 the gospel, as delineated in the word of God ! 
 
 Worthy. Directly as i began to read my Bible, I 
 was at once convinced, that the spirit and temper of 
 real Christianity were as opposite to the spirit of the 
 world as light is to darkness. And when that poor 
 dissipated. creature, Lord Rakish, gave me a call one 
 morning, and happened to find Mr. Lovegocd with 
 me, I remember his grand objection against the Bi- 
 ble was ; that it was impossible for human, nature to 
 
 • E 2 
 
46 
 
 come up to it. I well recollect Mr. Lovegood's 
 admirable answer : " So your lordship settles the mat- 
 ter, not by force of argument, but from what you feel 
 in yourself; the Bible must be wrong because yon feel 
 wrong," Immediately, Lord Rakish, said " Why 
 don't you think I should like to believe the Bible, if 
 I could, as well as yourself" ? Mr. Lovegood directly 
 answered, " Pardon me, my Lord, if I deny it; you, 
 and thousands more beside, love sin too well to be- 
 lieve the Bible." 
 
 Merryman. What an excellent remark \ But this 
 was nearly the same application he made in his visita- 
 tion sermon. That it was utterly impossible the 
 carnal world could love the holiness and spirituality 
 which existed in the real Christian ; as by the whole 
 tenor of his conduct, he appeared a living witness 
 against them who have a name to live and are dead ; 
 while all Christ's real disciples are not of the world, 
 for that God hath chosen them out of the world, 
 therefore the world hateth them. That conse- 
 quently, as far as the real ministers of Christ follow 
 the example of their holy Master, in life, and doc- 
 trine, they also must suffer the reproach of the 
 world with their suffering Redeemer. And that, 
 therefore, his disciples positively declared, " that 
 all they who live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer 
 persecution;" and that " living godly in Christ Je- 
 sus >" would ever draw down odium and persecu- 
 tion, at least of the tongue, (however, through divine 
 providence, religion was established and protected 
 by law,) where its real influences were not established 
 in the heart ; and that we should find it so, if we 
 made full proof of our ministry, or attended accord- 
 ing to the directions given in the ordination office. 
 u To be messengers, watchmen, and stewards of 
 the Lord ; to teach and premonish, to feed and 
 provide for the Lord's family ; to seek Christ's 
 
47 
 
 sheep who are dispersed abroad ; and for his chik 
 dren, who are in the midst of this naughty world, 
 that they may be saved through Christ for ever : " and 
 after he had given a large quotation from that most 
 excellent exhortation, I well remember the con- 
 temptuous sneer that passed between Mr. Spiteful 
 and old rector Guzzle on that occasion. 
 
 Worthy. No wonder at their sneers. We all know 
 the spirit and temper of Mr. Spiteful : and as for 
 rector Guzzle, I never heard him famed for any 
 thing, but that he w r as the greatest eater and hardest 
 drinker of any man about the country. But I thought 
 after I had read the sermon, Mr. Lovegood was the 
 most striking on that passage, " Do the work of an 
 evangelist." 
 
 Merryman. Indeed, sir, I had no conception at 
 first, that there could be any other evangelists than 
 the writers of the four Gospels. 
 
 Worthy. But he gave us all to understand, that 
 the work of an evangelist was to spread the Gospel. 
 And in what a full and concise manner he described 
 the leading sentiments of the Gospel preacher ! 
 
 Merryman. I remember well his weighty obser- 
 vations on the importance of the ministrj^ ; and I felt 
 every word as against myself, for my presumption 
 and wickedness, in taking upon me such an office, 
 and from such motives, while I was so perfectly care- 
 less ; living like a downright heathen, and yet daring 
 to assume the character of the minister of Christ. 
 What strong expressions he made use of, when cal- 
 culating the infinite value of but one immortal Spi- 
 rit ! That " all the vast revolutions of kingdoms and 
 empires were but for a time ; the wide-extended 
 splendor of the greatest of them, as once they ex- 
 isted, is now no more : not so the soul of the meanest 
 individual : being of infinite duration, it is of infinite 
 worth:" urging from this, that our doctrine should 
 
48 
 
 be the most pure, our example the most holy, and 
 our diligence the most assiduous and persevering, 
 
 Worthy* Do you recollect how he urged that part 
 of the text, " Watch thou in all things ?" 
 
 Merry man. Yes, I recollect enough to have cor- 
 vinced me, and many others, if they could have at- 
 tended to it, that our careless lives, and sacred office, 
 were the greatest contradiction to each other, and 
 in entire opposition to the word of God, which di- 
 rects us to " be instant in season, and out of sea- 
 " son; to make full proof of our ministry; 55 in 
 short, " to spend and be spent for Jesus Christ; 55 
 while, at the same time, the negligence of the gene- 
 rality of us was so evident and notorious. But what 
 striking observations he made on those words, " En- 
 dure afflictions ! 55 He at once met the objection he 
 supposed would be made, that this part of the text 
 must be confined to primitive times only; and that 
 now the profession of Christianity, since its esta- 
 blishment, was " attended with ease and honour*. 55 
 But I remember with what solemnity he asked the 
 question, " Is the carnal mind otherwise now, than 
 it was then, — Enmity against God ? Could age cure 
 the diseases of the human heart, which is described 
 as being deceitful above all things, and desperately 
 wicked? No wonder, therefore, if in every age we 
 exemplified, the justice of the charge, that we are 
 haters of God,; and v. hat could be expectedfrom such, 
 but that they should be haters of the godly ? He 
 further, I remember, pressed the point, by first quot- 
 ing the beatitudes, as in the fifth of Matthew ; ob- 
 
 * An expression of the late Bishop Warburton, when in the exertion 
 of his zeal against modern e?itbusiastsl Though a Bishop of a church 
 which so repeatedly insists on divine influences, yet like many others, he 
 entirely denied all divine influences whatever ; thus he completely reduced 
 Christianity to a system of deism, or of natural religion, as it is called;, 
 while he pretended to vindicate her sacred cause. 
 
49 
 
 serving what a fine epitome it was of the mind of 
 Christ, as it dwells in the heart of every true believer. 
 That the real Christian was poor in spirit ; and that 
 such only are of the kingdom of heaven: that he 
 was a holy mourner, under a sense of sin ; and that 
 such alone should be comforted : that he is found ^ 
 among the meek ; and that these only inherit earth 
 and heaven too : that they hungered and thirsted 
 after righteousness, or rather a holy conformity to 
 the will of God : that he was merciful ; and therefore 
 should obtain mercy : that he was pure in heart ; 
 therefore should see God : that he was a peace- 
 maker, and therefore should be numbered among the 
 children of God. He then made the comparison 
 between the high spirituality which belongs to the 
 real disciples of Christ, and the poor cold morality 
 so much talked of, though, after all, so little prac^ 
 tised among the people of the world. Then he 
 mentioned a variety of passages of the same import, 
 and concluded with this text : " Whatsoever ye do 
 in word and deed, do all in the name of the Lord Je- 
 sus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him." 
 Merryman. Till that hour, I never had the most 
 distant conception, what was meant by the Gospel, or 
 a Gospel preacher, any more than the horse I rode on 
 to the visitation. But I am sure all that he spoke was 
 true respecting the impurity and unholiness of man- 
 kind in general, and, indeed, of all as in a state of 
 nature. A deal too much have I already seen, 
 though yet so young ; and I have had proof enough, 
 what the Bible says is true, " that the whole world 
 Jieth in the wicked one." Almost all I have ever 
 met with, have been nearly of the same stamp, fol- 
 lowing what their corrupted hearts evidently liked 
 best ; " the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, 
 and the pride of life." I am sure all these were my 
 delights till I heard Mr. LovegoocL 
 
50 
 
 Worthy. But I remember, he as admirably shewed 
 how the evangelist, or e% 7 angelical minister, had also 
 to expatiate on the glories of the Gospel, as mani- 
 fested in our redemption by the blood of Christ, 
 our acceptance in his righteousness, and the sancti- 
 fication of our natures, by the operation of the Di- 
 vine Spirit. I think our excellent friend crowded too 
 many ideas into the same subject ; but, no wonder, 
 as it was most evidently his design to take that op- 
 portunity to give the most comprehensive view of 
 matters in his power. What he delivered, con- 
 tained sufficient substance for many a large volume. 
 
 Merryman. I really was no critic, while he was 
 pouring down the substance of such volumes of di- 
 vinity on my poor ignorant head and wicked heart ; 
 yet nothing so astonished me as my ignorance, ex- 
 cept my presumption, while he took the opportu- 
 nity, during the course of his sermon, to quote a 
 variety of awful passages against such a set of faith- 
 less hirelings. He produced several of them from 
 the 34th of Ezekiel, which I never forgot from that 
 hour to this. " Woe be to the shepherds of Israel, 
 that feed themselves. Should not the shepherds 
 feed the flock ? The diseased have ye not strength- 
 ened. Neither have ye healed that which was sick ; 
 neither have ye bound up that which was broken ; 
 neither have ye brought again that Which was driven 
 away ; neither have ye sought that which was lost ; 
 but with force and with cruelty have ye ruled them ; 
 and they were scattered because there is no shep- 
 herd, and they became meat for all the beasts of the 
 field, when they were scattered and none did search 
 and seek after them. Therefore thus saith the 
 Lord God, behold, I am against the shepherds, and 
 will require my flock at their hands, and cause them 
 to cease from feeding the flock; neither shall the 
 shepherds feed themselves any more, for I will deli- 
 
51 
 
 ver my flock from their mouth, that they may not 
 be meat for them.' 5 I remember, at the same time, 
 he introduced another passage from the same Pro- 
 phet, as belonging to the watchmen of Israel: 
 " When I say to the wicked, thou shalt surely die, 
 and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to 
 warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save his 
 life ; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity, 
 but his blood will I require at thine hand." 
 
 Worthy, Yes, and there is another passage, which 
 I remember to have read in his sermon, and which 
 he quoted from Isaiah. " His watchmen are blind; 
 they are all ignorant, they are all dumb dogs, they 
 cannot bark ; sleeping, lying down, loving to slum- 
 fc ber. Yea, they are greedy dogs, which can never 
 have enough : and they are shepherds that cannot 
 understand ; they all look to their own way, every 
 one for his own gain from his quarter." 
 
 Merry man. Yes, and I remember how he set forth 
 at the same time, the dreadful words pronounced by 
 our Lord against the Scribes and Pharisees, the false 
 teachers of the day, and against all such " evil men 
 and seducers, who are sure to wax worse and worse; " 
 and who run counter to the express command of 
 God. " We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus 
 the Lord, and ourselves, your servants, for Jesus's 
 sake." And I well remember what solemn counte- 
 nances appeared among the laity, though afterwards 
 he was so plentifully reprobated among the clergy, 
 for having exposed them in such a manner before all 
 the people. 
 
 Worthy. He expose them ! It had never been in 
 the power of Mr. Lovegood, or any one else, to have 
 exposed the clergy by such expressions, if they did 
 not expose themselves by their improper conduct. 
 It was, however, enough to make the ears of them 
 that heard it to tingle. 
 
Mcrryman. But the observations he made on the 
 last clause of his text, struck me, if possible, more 
 forcibly than any of the fQrmer. Cannot you re- 
 member, Sir, the weighty remarks which he made 
 on that passage in the text, " make full proof of thy 
 ministry;" how admirably he described the important 
 duties of the ministerial office, and that we were 
 commanded to " give ourselves wholly to it, that 
 our profiting might appear unto all men." Then 
 he asked how the man of fashion, as it is called, who 
 was only known to be a minister, by the colour of 
 his coat ; the covetous, the voluptuous, the negli- 
 gent, and the proud, could dare to register them- 
 selves among the ministers of a crucified Redeemer, 
 And that when it was the bounden duty of every 
 private Christian, u to give all diligence to make 
 his calling and election sure," and even " to work 
 out his salvation^ with fear and trembling," what 
 must the people think, when they see these minis- 
 ters, so much the reverse of what they themselves 
 are commanded to be, according to the common 
 standard of Christianity ?" Then he quoted that 
 passage from St. Peter, " Ye are a chosen genera- 
 tion, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar 
 people ; that ye should shew forth the praises of him 
 who hath called you out of darkness into his mar- 
 vellous light." 1 think I now see him, as he was 
 then in the pulpit ; he stopped, and made a solemn 
 pause, then added : " Holy brethren, such we are in 
 office, and such we .should be before God and man ; 
 what manner of persons ought we then to be, in all 
 holy conversation and godliness," to be the leaders 
 and instructors of a people so sacred in themselves, 
 and so highly devoted to God." 
 
 Worthy. I don't remember reading that passage in 
 the sermon ; but he told me, while he was delivering 
 it, some texts from the Scriptures struck him so for- 
 
, 53 
 
 cibly, that he introduced them, and gave a short com- 
 ment upon them ; and this made him preach a quar- 
 ter of an hour longer than he designed. 
 
 Merrym. Yes, I heard enough of the length of his 
 sermon, though I bless God it was not long to me. 
 The whole of it was but j ust an hour. But the ridicule 
 of almost all the clergy, both as it respects the length 
 of his sermon, and the holy warmth with which it 
 was delivered, shocked me exceedingly. 
 
 Wor. Ah, sir, had they been at a play-house 
 instead of a church, neither the length of the play, 
 nor the pathos of the actors, had given them the least 
 offence. The actor is allowed to represent imaginary 
 things, as though they were real ; while the minister 
 of the truths of God, is to be stigmatized as a mad- 
 man unless he represents real things as though they 
 were imaginary. 
 
 Merrym. Well, sir, and I don't suppose you thought 
 your worthy minister to blame, in going a little be- 
 yond the limits he designed, in making some addi- 
 tions to the written sermon he composed for the 
 visitation. For though I admire the tenderness of 
 his mind not to give offence, when it possibly could 
 "be avoided, by writing his sermon, as the truths he 
 then delivered would be deemed sufficiently offensive 
 among those who heard them ; yet I cannot conceive 
 Avhy speaking extempore from the pulpit, should give 
 more offence than at the bar, or in the senate, or in 
 any other public assembly. ' 
 
 Wor. If, indeed, it be required of a minister, 
 that he should be " apt to teach," why should we 
 not expect a feast as much from a public pleader in 
 the cause of religion, as a public pleader at the bar ? 
 The offence, therefore, taken at what is called ex- 
 tempore preaching, I suppose is principally found 
 to be among those who are exposed thereby, for un- 
 dertaking an office thev are so ill qualified to fill ; 
 
 Vol. II. F 
 
54 
 
 though I would speak with caution, as I by~rio 
 means suppose, that every minister is altogether un- 
 fit for his office, who cannot speak extempore, 
 
 Merrym, Weil, I found I was in a measure obli- 
 ged to commence an extempore preacher, before 
 ever I designed it ; for as soon as I became serious,* 
 none of my old sermons would do for me any lon- 
 ger ; nor were there any to be bought that would 
 suit my taste now : and my mind was so occupied, 
 after hearing Mr. Lovegood, that I was quite unfit 
 to sit down to compose any thing like a regular ser- 
 mon ; so that having written some thoughts as they 
 occurred to my mind, I explained them as well as I 
 could from my notes. 
 
 Wor. But what was the effect of the visitation 
 sermon, after you came from church, and attended 
 with your brethren at the dinner ? 
 
 Merrym. Sir, I was exceedingly shocked at the 
 profane ridicule which took place against Mr. Love- 
 good, almost from every quarter ; while Mr. Love- 
 good, Mr. Godliman, and poor old Mr. Meek, col- 
 lected together, in one corner of the room, to keep 
 each other in countenance. I was heartily glad, 
 however, to see, in the midst of all this contempt, 
 old Dr. Orderly, and Mr. Sedate his curate, come 
 up to him, and shake him by the hand, and thank 
 him for his sermon. Observing, that though perhaps 
 he could not entirely agree with him in all points of 
 divinity he had advanced ; j^et that he had shewn a 
 necessary and a well-timed zeal against the loose and 
 improper conduct of too many of their brethren. 
 This gave me encouragement to follow his example. 
 And when I told him, that one of the most dissipated 
 and negligent of the same order, begged to follow 
 the doctor's example, in thanking him, from the 
 bottom of my heart, for the just rebuke I had receiv- 
 ed from his lips ; and prayed that God would give 
 
5$ 
 
 me grace to remember it to my dying moments, a 
 tear began starting from my eye, and Mr. Lovegood, 
 Mr. Godliman, and Mr. Meek had enough to do to 
 stifle the feelings of their minds at the same time. 
 As to Mr. Lovegood, he was much more overcome 
 than myself : we went and stood together for a short 
 time, by a window in the room, and very little could 
 either of us say, while we mingled the sympathetic 
 tear with each other, as subsisting between those 
 who feel the joy of angels, when one poor sinner is 
 brought to repentance unto life. 
 
 Wor. Had our invaluable friend preached nothing 
 better than .a sort of a cold, formal, halfway sermon, 
 he had not given half the offence, nor yet would he 
 have done half the good ; truth can best defend itself 
 without the assistance of our low r cunning:, in at- 
 tempting to make it palatable to the carnal mind : 
 but the Bishop, it seems, was quite as much pleased 
 with his sermon as Dr. Orderly. 
 
 Merry m. I was very glad the bishop took so much 
 notice of him, though I heard that Rector Guzzle, 
 and Mr. Toper, his curate, and Rector Fillpot, who 
 sat close together, talking about nothing but good 
 eating and drinking, afterwards did all they could 
 to prejudice his lordship against him. It is reported 
 when Rector Guzzle said, " You see, my lord, these 
 modern preachers are all for grace :" the bishop re- 
 plied, " It is to be lamented that the clergy, in ge- 
 neral, have not more of that grace exhibited in their 
 lives and conduct, which Mr. Lovegood* has so well 
 recommended to their notice." Though I believe 
 he also agreed with Dr. Orderly, (who is much re- 
 spected by the bishop, and by every one else who 
 knows him,) that Mr. Lovegood rather went a little 
 too far* 
 
 IVor. Well, I confess I cannot see the eood of 
 that cold moderation which some admire. When 
 
56 
 
 the cause is of God, we cannot be too zealous in pro- 
 moting it. 
 
 Merry m. But zeal, in such a cause, is sure to be 
 charged as being the effect of madness. I heard of 
 a near relation of mine, who has some preferment in 
 Ireland, and who, but a little time ago, was quite as 
 dissipated as myself, and is now as zealous for the 
 cause of God as he once was for the cause of vanity 
 and nonsense ; when he was accused by one of his 
 " false brethren" to the bishop, as not only being 
 mad himself, but that he had bitten others of the 
 clergy also, received for answer, that if that was 
 madness, he hoped he would go on till he had bitten 
 every clergyman in his diocese. 
 
 Wor. I rather wonder that a greater variety of ob- 
 jectors did not enter the list against Mr, Lovegood's 
 faithful testimony on this occasion. 
 
 Merrym. Oh, sir, there was Mr. Flippant, a young 
 strippling, just in orders ; but he puts me too much 
 in mind of myself, how he went skipping and prating 
 about the room against Mr. Lovegood's sermon. He 
 came and asked me, among others, if had ever heard 
 such a ranting fool before ? I had sufficient Gourage 
 to^nswer : Oh, sir, I fear the charge of being rant- 
 ing fools may be more justly urged against us for 
 our wickedness, than against Mr. Lovegood for his 
 preaching 
 
 Mrs. Wor. It is of very little consequence what 
 such empty chaps have to say : but, I suppose, after 
 this you soon became intimate with Mr. Lovegood. 
 
 Merrym. Madam, I could not rest, as you may 
 suppose, till I had an interview with him. Directly, 
 therefore, as he moved from the dinner, I followed 
 him % my heart was so full that almost every word I 
 spoke to him was intermixed with tears of contrition 
 and remorse ; while he, with the greatest affection, 
 began to pour into my wounded conscience all the 
 
57 
 
 consolatory promises of the Gospel, observing what 
 a great mercy it was, that I was now convinced of 
 the folly and evil of my past life, and what a blessing 
 this might prove to hundreds besides, if, by die 
 gnjce of God, I continued in the same mind. When 
 we parted, Mr. Lovegood affectionately invited me 
 to see him. As it unfortunately happened, I was en- 
 gaged on a visit to Mr. Bluster, at Revel Hall ; Mr. 
 Lovegood advised me to send my excuse, as I could 
 bow say I was engaged on a business which demand- 
 ed my particular attention. So the time I meant for 
 Mr. Bluster I passed with Mr. Lovegood. 
 
 Wor. It proved a very favourable event, that im- 
 mediately as you found your need of an instructor, 
 you at once had one at hand so excellently well cal- 
 culated for your purpose. 
 
 Merry m. Indeed, Sir, it was; for you must think 
 what a situation I was in, when just emerging from 
 my ignorance, a mere babe in Christ, and in spiri- 
 tual knowledge, I found that I had to fill the place of 
 a father in God ; for such fathers, I apprehend, are 
 the only fit instructors of the children oi '-God.*- 
 • IVor. I fear there were very few who could pro- 
 perly be called the children of God, who needed 
 } 7 our instruction m that parish, so that the difficulty 
 could not be very considerable while you had to in- 
 struct others still more ignorant than yourself., 
 
 Merrym. True, sir, but then I- was perfectly igno- 
 rant how I was to set about that low office ol a spi- 
 
 . * It is;probabk that on this supposition the fears of Thomas Newman; 
 were excited, in dialogue the 6th, lest Mr. Lovegood should be promo- 
 ted from the vicarage of .Brookfield to the archbishoprick of Can erbury, - 
 • judging very, rightly how well he deserved, not only the title of the 
 right reverend, but even the most reverend Fa'her in God, both from the" 
 rich experienceof the Gospel on his o\yn heart, and having ho so ma- 
 ny around him, who were his spiritual children, and over whom he ac ed 
 in a manner so fatherly and so wise. Oh, that a Mr. Lovegood, inde- 
 pendent of-cvery- political principle, may never be wanting to {ill each 
 vacant bishopries in our land ! 
 
 F2 
 
58 
 
 ritual instructor : but by passing the two days I de- 
 signed for Mr. Bluster with Mr. Lovegood, he gave 
 me a clue for obtaining spiritual knowledge, which 
 afterwards proved a wonderful advantage to me. 
 He particularly advised me to read the first book of 
 Homilies ; to employ my time in modernizing the 
 language, and then read them over as sermons, to 
 my congregation. 
 
 Wor. Did you take the advice ? 
 
 Merry m. Sir, I have before told you I could think 
 of nothing but myself, and my ignorance directly as 
 I began to examine myself by the new views which 
 had been brought to my mind : and though I found 
 the book of Homilies exceedingly instructive, and 
 though I have loved the church of England ever 
 since, as in this land she is certainly the pillar and 
 ground of truth * ; yet I rather chose to follow that 
 part of Mr. Lovegood's advice, to attempt some in- 
 structive hints, as I read the lessons appointed for 
 the public service, and when I got into the pulpit, 
 I have before told you how I stammered out the 
 truth as well as I could. 
 
 Wor. I should suppose this change wrought on 
 your heart, was not a greater blessing to yourself 
 than a matter of astonishment to all the people at 
 Sandover. 
 
 Merrym. I bless God, many of my parishioners 
 were not less affected than myself, when I began 
 to tell them all, how grieved I was that I had been 
 leading them wrong, both by my example and doc- 
 trine ; and that now I hoped in God, that I should 
 
 * Mr. Merryman might not suppose from that observation, that no 
 blemishes could be found which vindicated the conduct of others in their 
 conscientious dissent from the established church ; though he laments 
 that there are any such dissenters to be found, as biame Mr. Merryman 
 and others, for their conscientious conformity to a church, notwithstand- 
 ing some defects, whose liturgy is so evangelical, and whose doctrines 
 are so sound. 
 
59 
 
 preach them better doctrine, and shew them a better 
 example ; and while I was thus talking to the peo- 
 ple, it is amazing how poor Sam Resolute, one of my 
 comrades in iniquity, was affected. I was in hopes 
 for some time that his heart had been truly chang- 
 ed ; but since then he has awfully declined. I hope, 
 however, he will yet be brought back, for I met with 
 him the other day, after he had been at a horse race, 
 and begged him to come into my house. He follow- 
 ed me like a criminal ; I plucked up courage, and 
 would go to prayer with him, and it is amazing how 
 he wept, and with what contrition he mentioned his 
 backsliding state. 
 
 Wor. People must have been filled with remark- 
 able astonishment at such a change. 
 
 Merrym. Why, sir, it was beyond expression curi- 
 ous what strange reports fled about the country con- 
 fcerning me. Some said, that the change was occa- 
 sioned by dejection of spirits, having met with a 
 heavy loss by gaming ; others found out that I had 
 been crossed in love ; some said that I had seen my 
 uncle's apparition, who died afyout six weeks be- 
 fore ; and others thought it was the effect of a fall 
 from my horse, when I was taken up for dead at 
 Gambleton races, whereby my scull had been nearly 
 fractured, and that now I was quite gone mad. In 
 short, it was so currently reported, that I was mad, 
 that young Ned Sparkish, one of my comrades in 
 vanity, actually came over to see me, and enquired 
 if it might not be necessary to consult a Physician, 
 to know what remedy might be necessaEy to heal the 
 cracked scull I met with on the horse course. 
 
 Miss Wor. Why, sir, I should'rather think it 
 might have been supposed your scull was quite as 
 much cracked when you were galloping after every 
 mad amusement, and when you pitied me and my 
 sisters, at Mr. Bluster's, that we were to be bred up 
 
60 
 
 in such a mopish manner, as that we were not to be 
 allowed to touch a card ; and as you expressed your- 
 self, that my father would as soon see the devil come 
 into the house as a dancing-master ; but I am sure, 
 what the grace of God has done upon your heart has 
 been a great blessing to me. 
 
 Merrym. Why, madam, who could tell you I 
 made such a speech as that? I confess, though I 
 have frequently expressed my pity that Mr. Worthy 
 should educate his daughters in such a mopish man- 
 ner, as I then thought it ; yet I don't think I ever 
 said your father " would as soon see the devil in his 
 house as a dancing-master." 
 
 Wor. [to his daughter~\ This, you know, my dear, 
 was a speech of Mr. Spiteful; and when he has 
 it in his power to exemplify the spleen of his heart 
 against any of the supporters of vital religion, he 
 never thinks it a crime to exaggerate. 
 
 Miss JVor. But sir, since you favoured me and my 
 sisters with the present of Mrs. Hannah More's book 
 on Female Education, we can very wiliingly give up 
 the silly amusement of dancing and card praying, 
 for the sake of the rational instructions we receive in 
 the room of them. I am sure, when I happened to be 
 with the Miss Giddys the other day, I was satisfied 
 no body need to envy them the privileges of their 
 sort of education. 
 
 Merrym. Why, my dear Miss Worth) r , through 
 the divine blessing, I now see how much it is to be 
 lamented, that the young women of* the present day 
 are turned out from their different boarding-schools 
 such mere baubles, fools, and playthings, that they 
 scarcely deserve to be esteemed as rational creatures ; 
 but I had no serious views of the evils of these things 
 till I became serious myself. 
 
 TVbr. Yes, and when you were half a madman, and 
 as thoughtless as you could be, you were then judged 
 
61 
 
 to be in your sober senses ; but when you became 
 " sober and temperate in all things," then you were 
 supposed to be a madman. We never know the 
 worth of our own minds till such time as we are 
 blessed with the grace and mind of Christ. 
 
 Merry m. I am sure the Spirit of God, in his di- 
 vine operation on the human mind, may well be 
 described as " the Spirit of wisdom and of under- 
 standing. 55 What a lovely sedateness and pleasant 
 calmness are they possessed of, who feel the re- 
 storation of u the kingdom of heaven within them," 
 which is beautifully described in Scripture as being 
 " righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy 
 Ghost! 55 
 
 Wor. Mr. Lovegood preached us two admirable 
 sermons, a few Sundays ago, on that subject, " The 
 peace of God which passeth all understanding shall 
 keep your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ. 55 — 
 But here is Edward coming ; I suppose it is with a 
 message from Mr. Lovegood, 
 
 Edw . Sir, will your honour want the best parlour 
 when you come in ? for a young gentleman and hi* 
 lady in a one-horse chair, and a servant with them 
 on horseback, stopt to read the poetry your honour 
 had put over the door,*- and have asked for a dish of 
 tea ; and say, if I can accommodate -them, they had 
 rather stop the evening with us than go two miles 
 farther to Mapleton. 
 
 Wor. O no, Edward, we shall be going home di- 
 rectly. 
 
 Edw. But I am afraid my accommodations are not 
 good enough for them ; for I am sure by their man- 
 ner they are real gentlefolk. 
 
 Mrs* Wor. Then you will find it still more easy 
 to accommodate them. You have all things, though 
 in a plain way, yet very clean and neat ; and if they 
 
 * See Dialogue 17th. 
 
m 
 
 want any thing you have not got, send to Trusty, 
 my housekeeper, and she will let you have it, 
 
 [For. Well, we will leave a couple of the largest 
 trout for your guests, and call on Mr. Lovegood ; and 
 we will go home and leave the house clear for your 
 visitants. 
 
 JEdw. Thank your honour and madam, for your 
 kindness. 
 
 Wor. Farewell, Edward. But be sure and send 
 if you want any thing. 
 
63 
 
 DIALOGUE XX. 
 
 BETWEEN MR. WORTHY, MR. LOVELY, AND 
 OTHERS. 
 
 THE CONTRAST ; OR, CONJUGAL HAPPINESS, FOUNDED ON 
 CHASTITY, FIDELITY, AND AFFECTION. 
 
 EDWARD goes to Brookfield-hali on the follow- 
 ing morning, after the arrival of his new guests, 
 while the family were at breakfast, and begs to speak 
 to Mr. Worthy. Edward is introduced. 
 
 Edw. Sir, your honour said, that I must call on 
 you if the gentleman and lady, who came to our 
 house yesterday evening, wanted any thing. They 
 want nothing but the liberty to walk in your ho- 
 nour's park ; and they are so pleased with the situa- 
 tion, and so well contented with our plain way of 
 accommodating them, that they mean to stop over 
 Sunday; for I made bold to tell them what a -won* 
 derfuljine man we had for the minister of our parish^ 
 and that it was he who made the verses your honour 
 had put over the door ; but I should be ashamed to 
 put them into our pew. 
 
 Wbr. Well, Edward, there will be no difficulty 
 on that score, for though we are pretty well crowd- 
 ed with Mr. Considerate's family and our own, yet 
 my daughters can sit with Mrs. Lovegood, and then 
 we shall have room for them. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. But do you want any thing for their 
 accommodation. 
 
 Edw. Nothing, madam, but Mrs. Trusty's receipt 
 with your leave to make some jellies ; the Lady is in a 
 very poor state of health, and he is so tender of her ! 
 They seem to be a most loving pair — Poor Mrs. 
 Chipman ! the sight of it quite cuts her to the heart ; 
 
64 
 
 she is always saying she might have been as happy 
 agtfthey are, if it had not been for her own folly, and 
 the evil consequences of sin. 
 
 Mrs. TVor. Trusty shall send some jellies to your 
 house directly. 
 
 TVor. Perhaps a little fruit also may be acceptable. 
 
 Edw. Why, the Lady Was asking if we had any, 
 and we gathered some cherries and strawberries for 
 them ; but it is not in our way to raise such dain- 
 ties as your honour has at the Hall. 
 
 TVor. I shall tell the gardener to send them a bas- 
 ket of fruit, and I shall call on you to-morrow, and 
 invite them to tea. 
 
 Edw. Thank your honour. The dear gentleman, 
 (and I 'am sure, by his kind and good behaviour, 
 he must be some downright gentleman ;) — He thinks 
 about nothing but his wire ; she is very sickly, and 
 he is sadly afraid he shall lose her. 
 
 TVor. I hope it is not another sir Charles and Lady 
 Dash's story. 
 
 Edw. O sir, their behaviour is so different, it can- 
 not be : — I am sure it cannot be. 
 
 TVor. Have you learnt the gentleman's name ? 
 
 Edw. Why, sir, when their servant sat down to 
 supper with us, I made bold to ask him — His name 
 is Lovely. He came from a place called Fairfield, 
 near Grediton. It is amazing what a character the 
 man gives his master and mistress, and what an affect- 
 ing story he tells about them ; I think there have 
 been nothing but affecting stories at our house of 
 late ; as how he married against the' consent of his 
 rich uncle ; and that he is very angry with him ; but 
 I Can scarcely tell your honour the rights of it. 
 
 [On the next day Mr. Worthy accomplished- his 
 hospitable design : as the weather proved lowering, 
 Mrs. Lovely continued the guest of Mrs. Worthy, 
 while Mr. Worthv and Mr. Lovtiv took a short 
 
65 
 
 walk about the gardens ; and, when seated in the 
 greenhouse, the following conversation took place.] 
 
 Wor. I am afraid you meet with homely accom- 
 modations at the Golden Lion, though I am satis- 
 fied the worthy landlord and his wife, will, in their 
 plain way, do their best to accommodate you. 
 
 Lovely. O, sir, we can never be more delighted 
 w T ith our accommodation than we are. As we passed 
 by we stopt to read the poetry : it struck us so ex- 
 ceedingly, that we thought we would gratify our 
 curiosity by going into the house ; we called for tea, 
 and we were so astonishingly pleased with the neat 
 and decent appearance of matters, that we at once 
 determined to stop short of Mapleton, where we in- 
 tended to have slept. Besides, we were so struck 
 with the enchanting scenery from the lovely situation 
 of the village, the neighbourhood being so beautifully 
 dressed by the taste you have displayed about your 
 own house and pleasure grounds, that we at once 
 determined to continue, at least, a few days in our 
 present quarters. 
 
 Wor. Have you a long journey then before you, 
 sir ? 
 
 Lovely. Oh, no sir, I am only taking easy jour- 
 neys from place to place, by the advice of our phy- 
 sician, to see if any thing can be done for the re- 
 covery of the health and spirits of that invaluable 
 creature, who has been my wife for about these six 
 months. We are under peculiar embarrassments, 
 \he hesitates and wipes his eyes, then adds^\ my re- 
 lations, some of whom are very affluent, are exceed- 
 ingly displeased at the marriage, and I am afraid I 
 shall lose the best of wives by the affliction. 
 
 Wor. I know, sir, how indelicate it is to ask you 
 questions of this sort, as it seems almost bordering 
 upon impertinence ; but may I suppose your only 
 crime has been, that you were captivated by a very 
 
 Vol. II. G 
 
66 
 
 amiable young woman, whose birth and education 
 were inferior to your own. 
 
 Lovely. O, sir, no apology is needed ; and our 
 minds have suffered so severely by this event, that it 
 will be a great indulgence to me, especially as I have 
 taken the liberty to enquire so much into your cha- 
 racter since I have been here, if you will allow me 
 to be more particular. 
 
 Wor. We cannot well leave our present retreat, as 
 it begins to rain, and whatever you communicate 
 shall be in confidence. 
 
 Lovely. Oh, no sir, no confidence is necessary. 
 The part, my dearest wife and I have acted, may be 
 published in every newspaper throughout the king- 
 dom, and it will never put us tothebiush. 
 
 Wor. Sir, after such a declaration of your honour- 
 able conduct, I cannot be less anxious to hear your 
 story than you are to relate it. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, before you can fully understand mat- 
 ters, I must first give you a short history of our fami- 
 ly connexions. My father has a small hereditary 
 estate, which clears him between five and six hun- 
 dred a year, and that he might increase his fortune, 
 he engaged with others in a large brewery. He 
 married a Miss Greedy, whose family is very rich, 
 but as it is the scheme of that family, like many 
 others, to hoard up all for the eldest son, her for- 
 tune was nothing greater than my father had a 
 right to expect, it being only three thousand pounds. 
 By that marriage my father had five children ; my 
 younger brother died almost an infant. So that 
 our family at present consists of myself and three 
 sisters ; two of these are creditably married, and for 
 this they have to thank my father, who being a 
 person of strict integrity, never saw it just to make 
 such a vast difference between his children; and 
 having thus, by care and attention, portioned off 
 my sisters with very decent fortunes, he tells me 
 
67 
 
 I have little to expect from him but the family 
 estate. 
 
 Wor. Well, Sir, I congratulate you in having a 
 father of such integrity and worth. I am surprised 
 that he should have been so displeased at your mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Lovely. He displeased at the marriage ! — no, dear 
 sir, it met with his highest approbation ; and he has 
 not a daughter of his own that lie can love better 
 than my dearest wife ; she was a creditable trades- 
 man's daughter, or rather in the mercantile line ; 
 well educated and brought into the family with her 
 eight hundred pounds on the day of her marriage. 
 But, O sir, if you did but know half her excellen- 
 cies, you would say she was the greatest fortune 
 imaginable in herself, inestimable beyond the value 
 of money. It has been the displeasure of my rich 
 uncle, my mother's brother, which has been the 
 cause of our perplexity. 
 
 Wor. What was that to him, if your marriage was 
 conducted with so much purity, chastity, and pro- 
 priety ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, it was greediness and family pride. I 
 have tainted the blood of the family by marrying 
 a tradesman's daughter, when I might have enriched 
 it by marrying the daughter of an Earl ; and my 
 mother unhappily joined with him in all his objec- 
 tions. 
 
 Wor. But you are not of his family after all ; and 
 how could you with your comparatively small for- 
 tune, and when even that was not to be yours till 
 after your father's death, support the daughter of an 
 Earl, in the extravagant style in which they generally 
 expect to live ! 
 
 Lovely. O sir, but he meant to make me his heir. 
 
 Wot. What then, had your uncle no children of 
 his own ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, he never was married for the sake of 
 
68 - 
 
 an offspring, but that he might enlarge his property. 
 He therefore availed himself of the folly of a rich 
 widow, who was fifteen years older than himself; 
 and when he had possessed himself of her fortune, 
 he treated her most cruelly. However, he had 
 plenty of children, as is supposed, by other women ; 
 for he is a most debauched character, and at the 
 same time a most extortionate miser, though he was 
 still fond of making a family show; and till lately he 
 meant to make a son he had, by a married woman, 
 in that neighbourhood, his heir ; as she was, as they 
 call it, better bred than most of the low women 
 with whom he had been connected : and the chil- 
 dren he had by these, being ashamed to own them, he 
 would have packed off to nurse, at the cheapest 
 rate possible ; and nothing rejoices him so much as 
 when he hears of the death of any of them. 
 
 Wor. How came he to alter his mind, and not 
 make the son you mention his heir ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, he bred him for that purpose, but in 
 so mean a way, and introduced him among such a 
 terrible set of low associates, that he turned out quite 
 a blackguard : and being educated under such large 
 expectations, he became also very extravagant : then 
 as his father was too covetous to give him remit- 
 tances equal to his extravagance, he got himself con- 
 nected with a set of swindlers, and that he might be 
 able to pay some gaming debts, he committed such 
 crimes, that he was obliged to leave the country, 
 or be sent to gaol ; my uncle therefore gave him fifty 
 pounds, and sent him to America, and there, it is 
 reported, lie died of the yellow fever. 
 
 Wor. What horrid evils are connected with such a 
 life of debauchery, that a man should be such a de- 
 testable brute thereby, as to be ashamed of his own 
 offspring, even so as to wish them dead! How different 
 the happy state of those children, whose existence is 
 their parents' boast and joy ; how I hate the low libi- 
 
69 
 
 dinous tricks of the present evil, adulterous genera- 
 tion ! 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I am sure it is impossible to detest them 
 worse than they deserve. My uncle, however, after 
 the death of this, his profligate bastard, as I was his 
 heir at law, began to think of adopting me as such. 
 My father could never bear the name of him ; yet 
 when he was frequently sending for me, he advised 
 me by no means to insult him by personal incivilities, 
 as his property, according to legitimate right, would 
 next be mine. As my uncle ordered me, I therefore 
 went to his house ; when the more I knew of him, 
 the more I was disgusted with him. 
 
 Wor. Were you obliged to live pretty constantly 
 with him then ? 
 
 Lovely. Not entirely so; for I was always striving 
 to make an excuse of absence ; and the argument, 
 which best succeeded with him, was about the brew- 
 ery ; that as my father farmed a good deal of his 
 own estate, he would be a considerable loser in the 
 brewery, unless I kept the accounts ; for he never 
 had but two objects in view, — by every means, how- 
 ever base some of those means might be, to enrich 
 the family, and to gratify his impure desires. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, this proved a just and providential 
 excuse, to be as little as possible with such a family. 
 
 Lovely. But, Sir, it was by this favourable turn to- 
 wards me, that a chain of events was produced, 
 which have proved the most perplexing and distress- 
 ful to myself and my dearest Ann.. 
 
 Wor. Really, sir, your history becomes so interest- 
 ing, that I am quite anxious to hear the result of it. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, before any expectation of being the 
 adopted heir to my uncle's estates had been made 
 known to me, a design of marriage had, in a great 
 jneasure, been settled between my self ai id rny dearest 
 wife ; and not less to the satisfaction of our parents 
 
 G 2 
 
70 
 
 than myself. All that he ever said, was " please your- 
 self, and you'll please me ; money is no object ; hap- 
 piness in the marriage state consists in something 
 better than money :" But when my uncle was deter- 
 mined to make me his heir, I was immediately to be 
 married to some woman with money, or blood, as 
 it is called. One of Lord Gambleton's daughters 
 was therefore immediately thought of, and though 
 his Lordship had considerably reduced his fortune 
 by his extravagance, yet as for want of' a male issue 
 they were co-heiresses, it was judged an excellent 
 match on my behalf; but a more worthless right 
 abominable never existed among the right honour - 
 ables : and thus betwen his Lordship's blood, and 
 my uncle's money, at all events I must be united to 
 this noble family. 
 
 Wor. O, this noble blood, and this love of money, 
 what mischief they create ! But how did you get 
 over the difficulty ? 
 
 Lovely. Why, sir, I knew that it would not be in 
 my power to deal with my uncle, but by gentle 
 means. When he proposed the match, I told him 
 the connexion I had in a measure formed with Miss 
 Commerce before he had mentioned his kind design 
 of making me his heir. He started, and said, " who 
 the Devil is Miss Commerce ?" When I told him 
 she was a respectable tradesman's daughter, he imme- 
 diately began swearing, after the mode of his general 
 conversation : " that he would never allow any of 
 
 his family to be united with such a set of d d 
 
 blackguards ;" calling me a low fellow, and saying, if 
 I would not see Lord Gamble ton's daughter, he 
 would adopt another heir ; and that he would have 
 nothing more to do with me ; and that he expected 
 I should first see how I liked the eldes f , as that might 
 prove the greatest advantage to mystlftind the family* 
 
 Wor. Really, .sir, you had a diiiicuity before you , 
 not easily to be surmounted. 
 
71 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I told him 1 could have no objection 
 against seeing any of Lord Gambleton's daughters, 
 but that I hoped he would put no restraint upon 
 my affection, as that might prove a source of mi- 
 sery to me, through life ; and so matters were 
 waved for the present, till I had time to consult my 
 parents. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, and I should hope your parents 
 did not advise you to sacrifice your affections for the 
 sake of money or blood. 
 
 Lovely. O, sir, my father behaved like a father, 
 but my mother was just the reverse. She was at 
 once struck with the proposal ; observed, what a 
 fine thing it would be, to have her son the acknow- 
 ledged heir of the family to which she originally 
 belonged, and to be united to such noble Blood ; and 
 that my present engagement with Miss Commerce 
 was not so far gone, but that I might break it off. 
 O, sir, what a hard task was this to myself, and the 
 dear creature to whom I am now so happily united ! 
 
 Wor. It must have been a hard task indeed ; but 
 how did you succeed in evading the difficulties of 
 this perplexing dilemma ? 
 
 Lovely. You must suppose, sir, I was under the 
 necessity of meeting with Lord Gambleton's family, 
 who came on purpose to visit my uncle ; and lady 
 Georgiana, being the eldest, was the first I was 
 ordered to notice, and who was introduced to me 
 accordingly ; and of course, I was obliged to be 
 very complaisant to her in return ; while, as I 
 suppose, she was directed to be more than com- 
 plaisant to me. I cannot express myself how much 
 I was disgusted, even at first sight, at the fulsome 
 forwardness of this paltry mess of noble blood, when 
 brought into competition with the excellent under- 
 standing, undisguised modesty, and unaffected sim- 
 plicity of my dearest Ann. 
 
If or. Sir, I confess you would have made a sacri- 
 fice much to your discredit, had you, contrary to 
 every just and generous feeling, given up for such 
 motives, an object so worthy of your affections. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, if I had not taken the liberty to en- 
 quire into your character, I should not have been so 
 happy in your approbation of my conduct ; I am sa- 
 tisfied it will therefore still meet with your approba- 
 tion, when you hear the result of these events. 
 
 IFor. Dear sir, I have now no doubt of it. 
 
 Lovely. After this wretched bit of forwardness, 
 ignorance, and self-conceit, was proposed to me, to 
 supplant my dearest Ann, for the sake of money and 
 blood, my uncle presently perceived how much I 
 was disgusted at her, and told me, (I shall not repeat 
 the disgustful oaths he made use of on this occasion,) 
 what a brewery blackguard I was, mot" to behave 
 more civilly to one of Lady Georgiana's rank ; that 
 if I married her, I might, if I pleased, keep the 
 other girl as my mistress ; and he was sure a sum of 
 money, which he was ready to advance, would ac- 
 complish his wishes and mine ; or that he had been 
 dreadfully mistaken in the disposition of women, as 
 far as ever he had to do with them. 
 
 Wor. Then your uncle supposed that all other 
 people were as unprincipled as himself; and that 
 every female character was of the same description 
 as those low 7 objects of his brutal desires with whom 
 he had been connected ; though I confess it scarcely 
 seems possible that you could have a stronger in- 
 ducement presented before you, - to behave dis- 
 honourably to the good lady, to whom it seems 
 you were so solemnly betrothed. 
 
 Lovely. Indeed, sir, it seemed next to nothing 
 to me, after a second interview with Lady Georgi- 
 ana, and Lord Gambieton's other two daughters: 
 for my uncle insisted upon it, that I should go with 
 
73 
 
 him to return the visit ; and, O, the horrid conver- 
 sation I there heard ! the worst that could be, from 
 a proud unprincipled Peer, and a worthless extor- 
 tionate miser. 
 
 Wor. 1 am afraid, Sir, I shall ask too much if I 
 request you to proceed. 
 
 Lovely. O no. Sir ; the Right Honourable had no- 
 thing to say, but that from his free living, according 
 to the rank of life he was obliged to fill, and through 
 some gaming debts, he had diminished his fortune ; 
 and that he could get no more from his tenants, as 
 he had racked up their rents to the utmost penny 
 he could demand ; and, therefore, as courtly favour 
 generally shone on noble blood, it might prove a 
 convenient match to both families. As for loving 
 one girl better than another, that they conceived to 
 be all nonsense : and though it seemed necessary 
 to propose the eldest first, yet if I proved rather 
 squeamish about Lady Georgiana, there was Lady 
 Augusta, and Lady Catharine, though there is scarce 
 a pin to chuse between them ; if any thing I think 
 the preference might have been given to the eldest, 
 but I am sure bad was the best. Still it was by no 
 means against their noble blood that I was disgusted ; 
 let people be as honourable in character and conduct 
 as they are by birth and title, and I would always 
 esteem them worthy of double honour ; but when 
 these three empty scraps of vanity were to be 
 brought into competition with my dearest Ann, I 
 confess they appeared the most odious creatures I 
 ever beheld. 
 
 Wor. I am sure, sir, that you, as a man of thought, 
 must have felt very severely on this occasion. You 
 cannot be ignorant of the style of education among 
 young persons of rank : look at the plain, honest, 
 country milk-maid ; next contrast her with the vain 
 baubles turned out, not only from the families of 
 
too many of the Right Honourables of the day, but 
 from most of our modern boarding schools : these 
 from being first mere babies, afterwards get some- 
 thing above it as they grow up towards child-hood ; 
 then they are sent to those destructive places of fe- 
 male education, where they are a second time redu- 
 ced almost to a state of baby-hood; and in this fool's 
 paradise, they seem happy to live through all their 
 lives, fifty times more offensive babies than if they 
 had never left their cradles. 
 
 Lovely, Yes, sir, and three such as these were then 
 presented before me, on account of money and blood, 
 to be preferred to the excellent and intelligent person 
 I now enjoy. 
 
 Wor. I should suppose, however, you must have 
 suffered much, before you could have been extricated 
 from these difficulties. 
 
 Lovely. Indeed, sir, no person could have been 
 called to a more severe contest than I have sustained, 
 between my affection, my judgment, and my worldly 
 interest; for my uncle's principles were perfectly li- 
 bertine. He would be ever saying, that " the end of 
 life is for every man to gratify himself, as suited best 
 with his natural appetites and dispositions." He 
 w r as perpetually reading heaps of French publications 
 on that subject : but here was my difficulty ; what 
 he liked best, I was to like best also, or else suffer 
 the vengeance of his high displeasure. He had fully 
 imbibed the sentiments belonging to their system of 
 mock liberty, that men should be left to live as they 
 list, without the least controul, 
 
 IVor. What government can subsist, where every 
 one is governed by his own abominable lusts and 
 passions? But your mother thus joining with your 
 uncle's views, must have been another very consider- 
 able impediment in your way. 
 
 Lovely. Indeed it was; for she began immediately 
 
75 
 
 to act so cruelly and disgustingly to my wife, that 
 she was soon obliged to discontinue all her visits to 
 our house, though before these golden promises were 
 made, it was a settled business that a marriage should 
 take place. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, under such circumstances as you 
 have related, neither your father nor your mother 
 ought to have refused their consent ; and, I am sure, 
 when they had once solemnly given it, they had no 
 right to retract it ; and on account of such motives 
 so improperly retracted, it would be equally unjust 
 in either of you to have renounced the pure and 
 chaste promises of a mutual connexion, which sub- 
 sisted between you. It were well, if both parents 
 and children would duly consider the proper limits 
 of their reciprocal duty towards each other ; but for 
 want of this, how frequently do children and parents 
 distract their own minds, and destroy the peace of 
 all connected with them ! But what was the result 
 of these matters ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, my uncle for once gained a victory 
 over his covetousness, by straining a point in con- 
 nexion with Lord Gambieton, to see if they could 
 not bribe her, by the promise of a thousand pounds, 
 provided she would be off from the engagement. 
 The accomplishment of this business was to be put 
 into the hands of my mother, and she the more 
 eagerly entered into it, as her head was filled with 
 a set of splendid dreams, that if they could blend 
 the two families into one, whether it might not be 
 possible to procure another patent of peerage, on 
 behalf of the female line, through which the noble 
 blood was still to flow ; and nothing pleased the pride 
 of my poor mother like the idea that her only son 
 might by this match wear a coronet ; and upon these 
 chimerical principles of happiness, we were called to 
 sacrifice our affections and solemn engagements witji 
 each other. 
 
7Vor. The feelings of both your minds, must have 
 been seriously disgusted by such base contrivances ; 
 and at the same time so artfully calculated to tempt 
 both of you to violate the solemn promises which 
 had subsisted between yourselves : but how did Mrs. 
 Lovely receive the proposal ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, the immediate answer my wife sent, 
 (for we were not then together,) was just what I 
 should have expected from the independent dignity, 
 chastity, and goodness of her mind : " That to paw 7 n 
 her affections for the lucre of gain, was so much be- 
 neath every feeling she possessed, that she at once 
 rejected it with entire disdain ; and that if they could 
 find a chapman in me, for the sake of such re- 
 wards to give her up, "after the most sacred promises 
 which had passed between us, she should ever esteem 
 it a most merciful deliverance to escape one of so 
 mean a mind ; and that it would be nothing with her, 
 whether I married any of Lord Gambleton's daugh- 
 ters, or any one else I might chuse to prefer, though 
 she herself had not the most distant idea, that I 
 could act a part so unfeeling, so ungenerous, and so 
 vile." Dear sir, who could not but admire a mind 
 replete with such dignity of thought, and with such 
 a generosity of heart ? 
 
 JVor. But, I hope, sir, that this spirited letter so 
 far settled matters, as that you got rid of these im- 
 portunities, that you might marry according to your 
 wish ? 
 
 Lovely. No, sir, my uncle still kept up his expec- 
 tations, that, either by craft or cruelty, they might 
 prevent our union ; and in order to accomplish this, 
 the next plan was to send me into the south-west of 
 Ireland, where he had an estate, that I might see after 
 his tenants, and collect some arrears of rent, with a 
 merciless, crafty, hard-hearted, wretch of a lawyer 
 at my elbow, to watch all my motions ; and with se- 
 cret instructions to try to debauch my morals and 
 
77 
 
 conduct as fast as he could ; but ill this, I thank God, 
 he could not succeed, and there I was ordered to con- 
 tinue till my uncle followed me, which, as he said, 
 would be in a few weeks. 
 
 By this plausible pretext, in first making me the 
 steward of what, according to his promise, I was after- 
 wards to possess, I conceived it my duty to follow 
 his directions. But this. was all done to try if possible 
 to break the heart of my dearest Ann. Being, how- 
 ever, suspicious of their designs, I made it a point to 
 call on her before I went, and after I had told her 
 the difficulties I had to encounter with,. I pledged 
 myself, in the most solemn manner, before her and 
 her parents, that, whatever might be the conse- 
 quence, we would unite for life. 
 
 Wor. Sir, I love you to my heart, for your fidelity. 
 
 Lovely. But, O, sir, I never shall forget what we 
 all felt on this occasion ; though what I did was 
 under a positive and deliberate determination, that I 
 had rather a thousand times support myself, as the 
 servant of my father's brewery, with such a wife, 
 than be united to the best of the three noble paltry 
 puppets that had been exhibited before me. 
 
 Wor. Were you obliged to be long absent on this 
 errand ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, my uncle kept me above three months 
 in suspense ; still making some frivolous excuse to 
 delay his coming. And, O ! what tricks and projects 
 to accomplish their designs of preventing our union ! 
 First, the letter-carrier, unknown to the post-master, 
 was bribed to bring all letters that passed between 
 my dear Ann and myself, to my uncle or my mother, 
 and these were opened and secreted from each of us. 
 
 One letter she was allowed to receive, written as 
 by my direction, though not in my hand ; stating 
 that I had employed one of my comrades in wicked- 
 ness, to correspond with one Mary Coleman, acom- 
 
 Vol. II. H 
 
78 
 
 mon strumpet, engaging to give her twenty pounds 
 a year for the maintenance of a bastard, they feigned 
 I had by her, as I was under the necessity to marry 
 Lady Georgiana Gambleton, from family circum- 
 stances; but still that my occasional visits should not 
 be wanting ; and this letter was supposed to have 
 been mis-sent and intercepted, and then conveyed 
 into the hands of that good little woman, that it 
 might be the cause of breaking off the match, or of 
 breaking her heart ; and indeed it had nearly accom- 
 plished the design. Nobody can tell the distracted 
 state of mind she was immediately thrown into, and 
 in which she continued, till the fraud was detected ; 
 and the contrary surprise of joy, when the plot was 
 discovered, was not less trying to her tender feelings, 
 than the deep grief she had before sustained. 
 
 Wor. What an infernal plan was this, to ruin the 
 peace of both your minds ! but could Mrs. Lov&y 
 for a moment believe all this ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, she knew not what to believe. Her 
 nights were sleepless ; and her mind was almost dis- 
 tracted. First, she could not account for my ap- 
 parent neglect, as our letters were intercepted : and 
 then my mother, being deep in the stratagem, was 
 directed to tell my dear Ann, that she had it from 
 my authority to inform her, that our connexion 
 could not take place, as circumstances were so al- 
 tered since I first became acquainted with her ; and 
 that still a large recompence for her disappointment 
 would be at her disposal, when she chose to accept 
 it : and these accumulated circumstances, at once 
 threw her on a bed of sickness, from which it was 
 expected she would never recover. 
 
 Wor. Indeed, if she believed half the stratagem, 
 replete with such dissimulation and craft, no won- 
 der that she should be completely overset by the 
 apparent cruelty of your conduct But how could 
 
79 
 
 they suppose that a plan of this sort should not very 
 speedily have been discovered ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, it seems they had other steps to pur* 
 sue, that their tricks and projects might not be dis- 
 closed. During my residence in Ireland, a reverend 
 gentleman was to be sent after me, known by the 
 name of Dr. Cringer, who was to take me out of 
 the way for several months, by conducting me the 
 tour of Europe, and to make me the accomplished 
 gentleman, by teaching me some of the modern 
 European languages. This gentleman was one of 
 Lord Gambleton's chaplains, and possessed a living 
 in his gift ; and since then I have discovered him to 
 be the meanest sycophant, and the merest toadeater 
 to his lordship that ever existed : however, this plot 
 discovered itself before it was fully accomplished. 
 
 Wor. I should be happy to hear how this took 
 place. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, while my dearest Ann was lying, as 
 it was supposed, on her death- bed, her father wrote 
 to my father to know what could be the crfuse of all 
 these strange circumstances; and why he should staffer 
 the loss of such an invaluable daughter by a conduct 
 so treacherous and unjust in me. Immediately both 
 our parents met on the occasion ; it would require 
 some hours to tell you the pains they took to inves- 
 tigate the stratagem ; but yet how speedily they 
 transmitted to me the discoveries they had made ! 
 
 TVor. You must have been considerably struck at 
 this discovery. 
 
 Lovely. Struck, sir ! nobody can tell what I felt 
 under the idea that the affectionate and generous 
 heart of that excellent creature was ready to break 
 through my supposed treachery, while I loved her 
 inexpressibly, and was so fully determined to be 
 faithful to my vows. 
 
 Wor. But I should hope, sir, your perplexities 
 
80 
 
 soon terminated with the discovery of these different 
 plots. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I made not a moment's hesitation to 
 travel directly from Ireland to Mr. Commerce's; and, 
 though I took all possible care that matters might be 
 so broken to my dear Ann, as that she might not be 
 too much overcome by the news of my arrival, and 
 by the consideration of the events, which made me 
 take the journey; yet, O, sir, what a meeting it was! 
 Her tender and affectionate frame was so overpow- 
 ered, especially during the first interview, as that 
 no words can sufficiently express what she, and, in- 
 deed, all of us, felt : we wept, and sobbed, and thus 
 sympathized with each other for some time, before 
 a single word could be spoken, on either side. At 
 length our affectionate parents retired from the room, 
 and when they returned, they informed us, that 
 they had both entered into a firm resolution, that 
 in order to put an end to all these detestable tricks 
 and cabals, we should never again separate from each 
 other till our marriage had actually taken place, for 
 that they cared nothing for all events and conse- 
 quences about large estates, and noble blood, as 
 they were determined to make us both happy by 
 an immediate union. — All this was kept an entire 
 secret from my mother and uncle ; and as soon as 
 my dear Ann was sufficiently recovered to be con- 
 veyed to Church, we were married accordingly; 
 and, O, sir, the tears of sympathy, of mutual af- 
 fection and joy, on that occasion, will never be for- 
 gotten ! 
 
 TFor. But, I suppose, this must have given consi- 
 derable offence to your uncle. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I did all in my power to soften mat- 
 ters, but in vain ; for, immediately after marriage, I 
 returned to the post at which my uncle had stationed . 
 me in Ireland ; and, though I had found that the 
 
81 
 
 worthless lawyer he sent with me, had informed 
 him of my elopement, yet, as he could only guess 
 at the cause, I had to reveal the event to my uncle 
 by letter. This I did with as much tenderness and 
 respect as circumstances would admit, assuring him, 
 that if I had displeased him by taking this step, yet 
 that, in every other point of view, I wished to ap- 
 pear respectful, obedient, and attentive to his com- 
 mands ; but, that I most humbly requested him, if 
 he still meant me as his heir, that he would dispense 
 with the European tour, at least, for the present ; as 
 duty and affection strongly called me to attend upon 
 the excellent young woman who was now become 
 my wife, and who possessed every possible qualifi- 
 cation to render herself a most highly respected cha- 
 racter, in every situation of life she might be called, 
 to fill. 
 
 Wor. You should have added, excepting that of 
 noble blood. But how did your uncle receive this 
 letter ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, his rage was inexpressible. He wrote, 
 me a few lines, filled with oaths, for my folly ; 
 charging me to leave his house in Ireland directly ; 
 and to undertake the office I held at my father's 
 brewery, as that was the most fit for me and the 
 shopkeeper'* s girl, I. had presumed to marry against 
 his consent. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, after all, it cannot be said you 
 have lost what you never had, though the sacrifice 
 you have made, of what you had in reversion, was 
 very great ; but, still you have gained the greatest 
 advantage to your character and conscience, and an 
 excellent wife into the bargain. 
 
 Lovely'. O, sir, I have a lull compensation for all 
 my losses and troubles; though she had not ;be sup- 
 posed advantages of the politer style of education 
 of the day, yet, having a very strong and retentive 
 
 II 2 
 
82. 
 
 mind, by her own diligence and attention, she has 
 provided for herself a fund of knowledge above most 
 of her sex. She is exceedingly well read in history, 
 and even in some branches of philosophy, especially 
 in astronomy ; the languages have, by no means, 
 escaped her notice : she is a perfect mistress of the 
 English, and writes an admirable letter; and all this 
 knowledge she acquired by her own industry, in the 
 midst of the hurry and bustle of the domestic con- 
 cerns of a large family, to which she always gave 
 the utmost attention ; at one time very diligent as 
 her father's scribe, and at another time not less atten- 
 tive to fill an active station, even behind the counter 
 when needed. 
 
 fflor. After such real accomplishments as these, 
 you had no great cause to lament the loss of what is 
 called a politer education. Had she been one of those 
 poor, paltry, affected, ignorant, conceited misses^ 
 turned out of our modern boarding schools, the loss 
 of such a flimsy bit of nonsense in female shape might 
 have easily been repaired. 
 
 Lovely. Yes, sir, but to me it appears as though 
 the world could not produce her equal ; she is one of 
 such an obliging mind and temper, that she never is 
 happy, but as she can make others happy ; while she 
 is blessed with a disposition the most serene, affec- 
 tionate and kind. I am sure, if I can but preserve 
 her life, I think I shall be the happiest man upon the 
 earth. [Lovely weeps.'] 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, as the principal cause of her per- 
 plexity existed no longer, let us hope that her health 
 will not only soon be restored ; but that the rage of 
 your uncle will, after awhile, subside, notwithstand- , 
 ing he has been disappointed in his projects. " The 
 hearts of all are in the hands of God. " 
 
 Lovely. Sir, these things are nothing to me : I pos- 
 sess ail I want in my dearest wife, though I heard 
 

 83 
 
 that my uncle should say to my mother, the other 
 day, that he could not but admire my honesty ; not- 
 withstanding I was such a fool, (with an oath,) in not 
 following his directions; and another event took 
 place soon after our marriage, which appeared to us 
 not less remarkable than unexpected. 
 
 Wor. What was that, Sir ? 
 
 Lovely. One of the former generation of the 
 Greedy s, a great-uncle of mine, still lives : he is 
 an old lawyer, and is now past eighty; though he 
 is covetous and mean, and mercenary to a proverb, 
 yet, soon after our marriage, he came to see us ; and 
 mentioned how sorry he was, that the match was 
 displeasing to my uncle, though he confessed he ap- 
 proved of it highly, as he believed my wife would 
 be a very prudent and saving woman ; and had I mar- 
 ried any of Lord Gamhieton's daughters, they might 
 have made me a spendthrift, and that he hated nothing 
 worse. Now as I must be very unhappy at home, 
 on account of my mother's displeasure ; and as my 
 wife's spirits and strength were much impaired by 
 what she had already sustained, he said he feared 
 her life was in danger ; and therefore had consulted 
 a physician for her, who had prescribed moderate 
 travelling, or a change of scene, without much 
 fatigue, as her disease was more in her mind than 
 her body ; and, therefore, he advised me to take 
 her, by slow journeys, from place to place, that her 
 health and spirits might be recruited. In order to 
 cover these expences, he begged my acceptance of 
 fifty pounds ; promising, at the same time, to leave 
 me all his property, provided he saw that I was a 
 frugal young man ; engaging also to do all in his 
 ■power to reconcile my mother to the match. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, though your great-uncle's dis- 
 position inclines him to be parsimonious and mean, 
 yet, in this respect, he behaved to you in a maimer 
 that was generous and kind. 
 
84 
 
 Lovely. Yes, sir, but the very next day he re- 
 pented of it ; and wrote to my father, telling him 
 that he must have interest for it while he lived, 
 though he still meant to appoint me his heir ; he 
 never was known before to do a single action, that 
 looked either generous or kind ; but having had 
 several sharp contests about money matters, with 
 my uncle, who had lately discarded me, they were 
 quite at variance; he seemed, therefore, to be willing 
 to take me up in opposition to him. Nor did my 
 uncle's way of living please my great-uncle at any 
 rate ; for though he would do any thing for money, 
 yet, at times, when among the great, from family 
 pride, he would be somewhat splendid and expen- 
 sive in his style of living ; and this always displeased 
 my great-uncle exceedingly. 
 
 Wor. Ah, sir, such are the clashings of interest, 
 found among the vices of mankind ! But the dis- 
 pleasure of your mother must have been the cause of 
 considerable concern to the whole of your family. 
 
 Lovely. O, Sir, it has entirely destroyed our fa- 
 mily happiness ; though it is my father who has 
 felt the most : he neither can find any happiness in 
 my mother as his wife, nor can I find any comfort 
 in her as a parent, while she hates my dearest Ann 
 as much as my father loves her ; and is living in 
 perpetual hopes of her death, that another effort 
 may be made, if possible, to get me in the mind to 
 relish some of this noble blood : so that, at present, 
 we are obliged to retire from home for the sake of 
 peace ; and all this is the more cutting, as it comes 
 from a mother, who once appeared to love me very 
 tenderly ; but, still she is my mother ; it is too pain- 
 ful for my recollection ! 
 
 Wor. I perceive then, dear sir, that you are al- 
 most under the necessity of a temporary banishment ; 
 and as travelling from place to place is very expen- 
 sive, do, sir, let me request the favour of you and 
 
85 
 
 Mrs. Lovely to pass some time -witli us at Brook- 
 field Hall. We are supposed to live in a salutary air ; 
 and you have your own little vehicle to take your- 
 self and Mrs. Lovely to different parts about the 
 country, for the sake of moderate exercise and air ; 
 you can travel about as you may like, and still make 
 my house your head-quarters. If you please, sir, 
 as the shower seems to be over, we will adjourn to* 
 the house, and settle it with Mrs. Lovely. I am 
 sure Mrs. Worthy and my daughters will be very 
 happy in her company ; Mrs. Lovely's want of 
 noble blood will be of no consequence at our house. 
 We are no great admirers of this commodity, as it is 
 in general found in its present degenerate state. 
 
 Lovely. Dear sir, what kindness and attention to 
 an entire stranger ! But as to support, both my father 
 and my wife's father are determined to join in all 
 that is necessary to assist during our present perplexi- 
 ties ; and, though we suppose we must retire, for 
 the sake of peace, into some little country cot, at a 
 distance from my mother, till matters may soften; 
 yet, should it please God to restore her health, a very 
 little will make us comfortable, as we are so happy 
 with each other. But I am sure, sir, Mrs. Lovely 
 will be quite overcome by your most kind and affec- 
 tionate attention to our situation. 
 
 Wor. O, sir, don't mention any thing about these 
 matters. I don't know what comfort there can be 
 in life, but as we act for the mutual good of each 
 other. True Christianity is sure to produce real po- 
 liteness without the assistance of the affectatioxf of 
 the world. We are commanded to " be given to 
 hospitality," and to "be pitiful and courteous." I 
 must, therefore, insist upon it, that you allow me, 
 without any further ceremony, to make you and 
 Mrs. Lovely our guests, while you continue in these 
 parts. [To a day labourer."] Here, John, go directly 
 to the Golden Lion, and ask for Mr. Lovely's ser- 
 
86 
 
 vant, and tell him to bring his master's horses and 
 carriage, and all their packages, immediately to my 
 house. 
 
 Lovely. Oh, dear sir, this is quite too much ! 
 — I am afraid my poor dear wife will feel herself 
 entirely thrown out of that humble contemplative 
 state of retirement we wish to enjoy, by her being 
 introduced into your house. 
 
 Wor. O, Mrs. Lovely will find just the contrary, 
 within half an hour after she has really commenced 
 our guest : we have nothing to do with the fulsome 
 formal parade of the world at our house. \To the 
 labour er.~\ Why don't you go, John? 
 
 John. An't please your honour, I'll go directly. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, if you insist upon such an extraordi- 
 nary act of hospitality, I should be glad to go with 
 him, as I have some matters to settle with my ser- 
 vant on this remove. 
 
 fVor. Well, sir, then I shall go to the house, and 
 tell Mrs. Worthy and Mrs. Lovely how we have set- 
 tled matters, and shall expect your speedy return. 
 
 Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovely immediately sepa- 
 rated ; but as there are still a variety of events which 
 may require an abridgement to prevent repetition, 
 the reader will excuse the dress of dialogue, while 
 he is further informed, that Mr. Worthy accord- 
 ingly went home, and in the fulness of his benevo- 
 lent heart received Mrs. Lovely rather too abruptly 
 for the tender feelings of her delicate and senti- 
 mental mind; telling her that he had heard every 
 circumstance respecting them ; and that he was 
 quite in raptures at the fidelity and integrity of Mr. 
 Lovely's conduct ; and begged their acceptance of 
 every token in his power of their hospitality and 
 esteem. He insisted upon it that they should be their 
 guests, at least, for some days ; and that, after they 
 had received a short sample of their sincere and 
 
St 
 
 sympathetic regard, they should judge for themselves, 
 how long they might further favour them with their 
 company. 
 
 This so won upon the mind of Mrs. Lovely, that 
 she could scarcely support herself under the strong 
 impressions of gratitude she felt from this instance 
 of truly Christian benevolence. Her husband just 
 then came in, and found her scarcely able to speak, 
 and in tears, from the influence this had upon her 
 most grateful and affectionate disposition. 
 
 The cause of this was immediately explained to 
 him. Let the reader's imagination next describe 
 the feelings of this very sincere and affectionate 
 youth ; thus engaged in wiping away each tear as it 
 dropt from her eye, while he had enough to do to 
 quell the like sympathetic tear as it involuntarily 
 forced itself through the same sluices of his affection : 
 
 o 
 
 and then let him judge whether Mr. Lovely would 
 have been a happier man, had he neglected one of 
 such a mind, for the sake of either of the three un- 
 sentimental baubles, whichever it might have been, 
 that, through the mere pride and covetousness of 
 the parties, was designed to have been entailed upon 
 him. 
 
 Thus Mr. and Mrs. Lovely commenced the guests 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Worthy, while the honest landlord 
 of the Golden Lion parted with them with consi- 
 derable regret. They could not, however, help re- 
 marking, in the course of the evening's conversation, 
 how very orderly all their little matters were con- 
 ducted at the public house, and that it was the first 
 house they ever remembered of that sort in which 
 they heard the private voice of family prayer. 
 
 In the course of the evening conversation, Mr, 
 Lovely started some queries concerning a young 
 woman, who appeared quite of a dejected turn* of 
 mind, and asked whether it was from some deep af- 
 fliction, or, it should rather appear, from some melan- 
 
88 ±/ s % 
 
 dioly derangement. But when Mr. Worthy begaft 
 to tell the story of Mrs. Chipman, as ithas been be- 
 fore related to the reader, it was soon foun<;l too 
 strong a contrast of what had passed between Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lovely, for their tender minds to bear, 
 especially as related to the feelings of Mrs. Chipman, 
 since she had been made sensible of the evil conse- 
 quences of sin. The conversation, therefore, took 
 another turn. Mrs. Worthy made some enquiries 
 into the family of the Lovelys, as her mother used 
 to claim relationship to some of that name. By this 
 means they discovered that there was no very distant 
 relationship between the Worthys and the Lovelys, 
 though they were very glad it was not on the side of 
 the Greedy s. Mr. Lovely also had to console him- 
 self with a hope, that an intermixture into that fa- 
 mily might ultimately be of no great harm to the 
 next generation, as his grandfather was too much 
 the other way, and had suffered considerably, by 
 lending large sums of money to some, in being se- 
 curity lor others, and liberal upon all occasions, so 
 that his fortune had been much injured by his gene- 
 rosity. 
 
 Upon this discovery, the easy and affectionate ap- 
 pellation of cousin , was at once adopted, and the con- 
 versation became familiar ; soon after which, the 
 day was terminated by supper, and prayer. The day 
 following being the sabbath, the reader may expe<i 
 another dialogue, as the result of that day's exer- 
 cises. And if this dialogue be now in the hands of 
 those wbo retire to their rest, without first dedicat- 
 ing themselves to God, by family prayer ; while 
 they conclude the evening by reading this little 
 dramatic attempt, may this laudable custom, so se- 
 riously attended to at Brookfield Hall, excite my 
 kind readers also to break through the uiled bur- 
 ners of sloth and shame ; and, ere they c ose their 
 eyes in sleep," may they close the day with God ! 
 
89 
 
 DIALOGUE XXI. 
 
 BETWEEN THE LOVELYS AND THE FAMILY OF 
 BROOKFIELD HALL. 
 
 THE CLAIMS OF SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED, 
 
 THE following day being Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lovely attended the family to Brookfteld Church. 
 The pleasing sight of so large and devout a congre- 
 gation, collected from every quarter, and the holy 
 reverence with which the service was conducted, 
 surprised them not a little. Mr. Lovegood's ser- 
 mon was from that text; " Our light affliction, 
 which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far 
 more exceeding and eternal weight of glory :" and, 
 though they both felt the itxt suitable and desirable, 
 as it related to their own situation ; yet the applica- 
 tion, at first, rather surprised them, that w T e were 
 all sinners before God; and that chastisement was- 
 needed to detect the latent venom of corrupted na- 
 ture, however it might be cloaked from cur view, 
 Jj>v the favourable circumstance of a good disposi- 
 Tioti, and a life of strict morality : that though we 
 should esteem every good we enjoy as " the gift of 
 God," and hold such gifts in due estimation, , as they, 
 at least, prevent an abundance of evil ; yet. the real 
 good which made us meet for heaven arose from 
 another source : and, though he believed that where 
 there was a high degree of morality, or uprightness 
 before man, (as even so much as this was of uncom- 
 mon growth,) he humbly trusted that there might be 
 Vol. II. I P 
 
90 
 
 the seeds of the divine principle secretly implanted ; 
 yet, after all it is " the grace of God that bringeth 
 salvation, and which teacheth us to deny ungodli- 
 ness and worldly lusts ; and to live soberly, righte- 
 ously, and godly in this present world." And in 
 Mr. Lovegood's application of his sermon, though he 
 cautiously avoided an indiscriminate charge against 
 all good, as though it were evil, because we our- 
 selves are so ; yet, he still urged that there was no- 
 thing good in us, but what was blended with evil. 
 He appealed to the consciences of his hearers, if 
 all of them had not found, more or less, some 
 unwarrantable murmurings and repinings against 
 God, during sharp and heavy afflictions ; until their 
 hearts, under the influence of divine grace, were 
 duly humbled to acknowledge their own sinfulness 
 in his sight. He then brought the instance of holy 
 Job, how he, for a time, was found in rebellion against 
 the correcting hand of God, till he was better in- 
 structed by a deeper knowledge of his holiness to 
 cry in humble submission, " Behold, I am vile." 
 
 These considerations brought to Mrs. Lovely's 
 recollection the many unwarrantable reflections 
 which had passed her own mind during her afflic- 
 tions, though she thought little of them for the mo- 
 ment ; yet now, for the first time, her conscience 
 began to recoil at them, as being a proof of the in- 
 bred corruption of her nature, of which before she 
 had scarcely the most distant conception. She had 
 ' frequently been reflecting upon the native goodness 
 of her heart, praising herself rather than God, that 
 she was naturally so much better than the rest of 
 mankind ; and wondered how a merciful God should 
 permit her to be so afflicted, while many, so far her 
 inferiors in all the principles' of virtue and morality, 
 were prosperous. 
 
91 
 
 Under these dark conceptions of her own heart, 
 she would be arguing with Job in his unhumbled 
 days, " that she was clean and without transgres- 
 sion ; that she was innocent, and that there was 
 no iniquity in her ; but that God yet found occasion 
 against her, and counted her for his enemy." A 
 very few reflections, however, of this sort, forced 
 the penitential tear from her eye, and laid her 
 humbled heart in the dust before God. Instead of 
 " entering into judgment with God," she could now 
 cry, " Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O 
 Lord, for in thy sight shall no flesh living be justi- 
 fied." 
 
 At the sight of this, Mr. Lovely was not a little 
 affected, as he greatly feared that these strong im- 
 pressions might be attended with such consequences, 
 that her delicate frame might sustain fresh injury 
 thereby. After their return from church, they re- 
 tired to a private seat in the pleasure ground for a 
 short time before the dinner w r as placed on the table, 
 and the following conversation took place. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. My dear, what a wonderful sermon 
 we have been hearing this day ! If these things be 
 true, I fear we are both wrong. 
 
 Lovely. Wrong, my dear — How can we be wrong? 
 What harm have we done ! If we are not right, the 
 Lord have mercy upon thousands ! 
 
 Mrs. Levely. Though I dare not say that I can 
 accuse myself of any gross immoralities, yet you 
 cannot conceive what proud, angry, and rebellious 
 thoughts I have secretly had against God, during our 
 affliction. I never had the most distant idea till this 
 day; what an evil state we must be in, when such a 
 
92 
 
 tribe of evil thoughts are to be found in our hearts : 
 but I hope and I believe your heart is not so bad as 
 mine. 
 
 Lovely, O, my dear love, we must not suppose 
 that the Almighty will eternally condemn us for a 
 few bad thoughts : you know that " his mercies are 
 over all his works," and that " he will not be ex- 
 treme to mark iniquity." 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. O, no; it is not that I fear I shall 
 be eternally condemned for my bad thoughts; but I 
 find and feel myself such a sinner because I have 
 them. Why should I for a moment have harboured 
 such evil conceptions against God, when he so justly 
 punishes me as a sinner, and still so mercifully pu- 
 nishes me for my good ? In what a fine manner Mr. 
 Lovegood explained that text, " Whom the Lord 
 loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every one whom 
 he receiveth." But did you ever see such a serious 
 and devout congregation before ? No wonder that 
 even the public house shouid have been so reformed 
 under such an excellent minister. And what a 
 charming family the Worthy s are, and how truly 
 pious. I am afraid we cannot say we are like them. 
 - — I am sure, I am not. 
 
 Lovely. O, my dearest Ann, I am much afnid lest 
 your unjust notions against the native purity and good- 
 ness of your heart should so perplex you, as to de- 
 prive you of all the consolation you have a right to 
 claim "to yourself. But however you may think of 
 Mr. Lovegood's sermon, it by no means struck me 
 as being so super-excellent. First, I have no great 
 opinion of your extemporaneous preachers. I can 
 very readily give up aii these for the sake of hearing 
 a minister upon some good grave moral subject, who 
 has properly and carefully corrected his sermon be- 
 fore he preaches it. And then I think what he said 
 had rather a tendency to make the Almighty a hard 
 
93 
 
 task -master. He certainly is a man of ability, and 
 I don't doubt but that he has a very good heart, and 
 I dare say his stern way of preaching has done a great 
 deal of good among the common people; but in one 
 part of his sermon he seemed to preach to us as if 
 we were all a pack of heathens.. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. To be sure, he made some very 
 strong remarks in shewing what a great difference 
 there is between Christianity as it is revealed in the 
 Bible, and as it is practised by the people of the 
 world ; but I cannot help thinking there was a deal of 
 truth in what he said. I fear lest I should be found, 
 after all, nothing better than a mere " whited sepul 
 chre," in the sight of God. 
 
 Lovely. My dear creature, how can you for a 
 moment admit such a preposterous thought ! I won- 
 der you can so overlook your own goodness : though 
 I am quite delighted with Mr. Worthy's hospitality, 
 yet I am very sorry that Mr. Lovegood ? s sermon 
 should have left such a strange impression on your 
 mind ; and I am sure such dreary notions against 
 yourself are not only the most inconsistent and ..un- 
 just; but, I fear also, lest they should so prey upon 
 your thoughts, as to be injurious to your constitu- 
 tion, uniess you can muster up proper resolution to 
 resist them. Will you allow me, my dearest life, to 
 request you not to think of going to church again 
 this afternoon ? You could scarcely bear the crowd 
 which was there this morning: ycu were ■' almost 
 ready to faint half the time ; and I am sure his no- 
 tions in religion will never do for you : at least, in 
 my opinion, you have unhappily misapplied them, 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. I thank you very kindly for your ad- . 
 vice: but what shall 1 do ? If I grieve'you by again - 
 going to church, I fear I shall as much grieve'and 
 perplex my own mind in staying at home. 
 
 Lovely. Q } mv dear, Til stay at home with you 5 
 
 I 2 
 
94 
 
 and read some of the Saturday's papers of the 
 Spectator ; you know they are all upon moral sub- 
 jects ; or one of Dr. Blair's sermons, if Mr. Worthy 
 has got them. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Indeed, my dear, I never could read 
 either in those papers, or in Blair's sermons, any 
 thing like so interesting as what I have heard this 
 day from Mr. Lovegood. I think you a little mis- 
 understand him : perhaps when you have heard him 
 again, you may be better pleased with him. With 
 your leave, I am exceedingly desirous to hear him a 
 second time ; but if I should grieve you by acting 
 against your kind advice, it will equally be the cause 
 of grief to me. 
 
 During this short conversation, the dinner-bell 
 summoned them into the parlour, to the family 
 meal, which, on a Sunday, at Brookfield hall, is 
 very plain, but plentiful : and served at an early 
 hour, that their second attendance on divine service 
 might not be interrupted. During the meal, Mr. 
 and Mrs. and the eldest Miss Worthy, who of late 
 had become very serious, made such remarks on the 
 sermon as were widely different from those dreary 
 notions of real religion which Mr. Lovely began, 
 from misconception, to entertain.. He discovered 
 that Sunday, at Brookfield Hall, though the most 
 solemn, was the happiest day of all the seven ; and 
 that they could quote different passages of the ser- 
 mon which they heard from their excellent mini- 
 ster with supreme approbation and delight. This 
 staggered his prejudices, though it did not remove 
 them. Soon after dinner the cheerful voice of praise 
 was heard at a distance from the children of the 
 Sunday school, who were kindly accommodated with 
 Mr. Worthy's laundry, as a school room. This at 
 once attracted the ear of Mrs. Lovely ; and, after 
 some enquiries were made respecting that instiiu- 
 
95 
 
 tion, she looked at her husband, and dropt a tear. 
 He, seeing the agitation of her spirits, requested 
 her to walk out, and the conversation on the same 
 subject thus recommenced. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Will you, my dear, indulge me 
 with the privilege of attending at church again this 
 afternoon? Surely the religion which makes this ex- 
 cellent family so happy can never make us misera- 
 ble. When I heard the song of praise from the voices 
 of those, poor children, how did I wish that I could 
 but transform myself into one of their number, that I 
 might attend again at church without grieving you ! 
 
 Lovely. You know that my advice is from the 
 purest principles of affection ; but if you cannot be 
 happy unless you again go to church, I shall say 
 no more. Only, my dearest creature, for my sake 
 and your own sake, be on your guard that Mr. 
 Lovegood's harsh doctrine may not injure your health, 
 I cannot bear to hear you call yourself " a whited 
 sepulchre," and that you should have such unjust no- 
 tions of the supposed badness of your heart, when I 
 am sure you have given sufficient evidence that it is 
 so virtuous and good ; and, indeed, I think we have 
 neither of us been so remiss in any part of our duty, 
 as to be registered among the most unworthy and 
 negligent of mankind. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. I am afraid, if we have been atten- 
 tive to the lesser duties between man and man, we 
 huve been too remiss in the still more important 
 duty, required of us in our love and service of God. 
 Can't you . remember that was one of Mr. Love- 
 good's observations during the sermon ? 
 
 Lovely. Now, upon this principle alone it is I 
 ground my objection against your attendance. I 
 confess the Worthy s are a very cheerful and happy 
 
96 
 
 family ; but, however Mr. Lovegood's notions may 
 do them no harm, yet as your afflictions have much 
 sunk your spirits, his strong notions of religion may 
 not be so suitable to you as to them ; and this makes 
 jne think, notwithstanding their kindness, that our 
 visit to this place, for your sake, must be short ; as 
 I fear these new dreary sentiments respecting your- 
 self may hurt your health. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Oh, my dear, with your leave I 
 hope we shall continue here, at least, for a few days, 
 according to the most hospitable and affectionate in- 
 vitation of the family. Indeed it would be quite rude 
 to do otherwise ; it would look as though we had 
 taken some disgust, while at the same time their, 
 kindness is inexpressible. And did you not mind 
 what a heaped dishful of slices of bread and meat 
 was sent out to these poor children? And Mrs. 
 Worthy told me, that it was the constant custom 
 to cut up a large joint, and some other fragments, 
 that each child might have his Sunday's repast as 
 w ell as his schooling : and 1 am told that the chil- 
 dren and all their parents are brought into the 
 laundry every Monday evening, and examined and 
 instructed by Mr. Lovegocd ; and that once a quar- 
 ter he has them publicly in the chinch, and makes 
 a sermon on purpose for them, and then afterwards 
 gives ail the parents a id children a supper together, 
 in the servants' hall. O, my dear, do let me beseech 
 you to stop a few days in these parts, that we may 
 know more of this excellent family ; and let us 
 get acquainted with Mr. Lovegood. Mrs. Worthy 
 says, he always dines at their house on the Monday, 
 when he comes to instruct the children and their 
 parents ; and she says, he is a cheerful man, though 
 he is so very religious ; and, if ever your Uncle, or 
 old Mr. Greedy, should leave you his fortune, we 
 shall have plenty for our poor neighbours as well as 
 
97 
 
 ourselves ; and I am sure we cannot meet with better 
 instructors, how we should act for the good of others 
 than as we take pattern from what is now before us. 
 
 Lovely. How can you, my clear life, think your- 
 self " a whited sepulchre, 55 when you are so full of 
 charitable purposes and good designs ? 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. O, it is on account of the intermix- 
 ture of evil I still feel. I am ashamed to say what I 
 feel. Why should I have such bad thoughts ! But 
 the bells are ringing for church. I seem quite revived 
 at the thoughts, that your objections are removed ; 
 for you cannot but have observed the most pleasant 
 conversation of the family, and the creditable, com- 
 fortable, orderly way in which they live. Surely the 
 religion, which has done them so much good, can 
 never do us any harm. O, do, my dear George, O, 
 do, let me go to church, and let me request you to 
 come with me ! 
 
 Lovely. My dear, you quite disarm me, and while 
 I submit, I confess I rather go with you to guard you 
 against some mistaken impressions which you have 
 already imbibed, than by shewing my approbation 
 of your zeal However, I'll go with you, having 
 already fortified my own mind against all the wrong , 
 notions we heard this morning : I have only to re- 
 quest you for your own peace, — :Be upon your 
 guard. 
 
 After this conversation they immediately returned, 
 and went to church with the family. Mr. Lovegood 
 on that afternoon, preached a more awiul sermon 
 than usual, on the parable of the Ten Virgins ; ob- 
 serving what a remarkable similarity subsisted for a 
 while between such as were wise, and others who 
 were Foolish, till the day of trial made known the 
 difference between them. That the lamp of a pro- 
 
98 
 
 fession may give a splendid light for a while, but at 
 length it may go out in everlasting darkness. That 
 the grace of God may be so nearly imitated by natu- 
 ral gifts and outward advantages, as that many per- 
 sons may " have a name to live and yet be dead." 
 He first mentioned some who might have u the 
 form of godliness and deny the power." He asked 
 his formal hearers if they had ever examined their 
 hearts by that expression, " The power of God" 
 He remarked its emphatic meaning, — how different 
 from a mere mechanical form ! that though he by no 
 means condemned forms of prayer, for that we had 
 them in our psalms and hymns, and in the word of 
 God itself; yet, that these would not cover the sin 
 of those who were merely formal in prayer. That the 
 best and most spiritual forms of prayer, if not of- 
 fered up from a heart which was spiritual, were but 
 an abomination : for that God thus complained of 
 his own Israel : " This people djraweth near to 
 me with their lips, while their hearts are far from 
 me." He observed further on the same subject, 
 that forms of prayer could never create, though they 
 might lead, devotion : and that as we advanced in 
 the spiritual life, we should be constrained to extend 
 the wings of devotion, and not merely confine cur- 
 selves to such directories, as once we needed, in the 
 earlier part of the divine life : but that as our spirits 
 " grew up into God in all things," we should find 
 that the fervor of holy prayer would require to be 
 released from the cold and frigid business of a form; 
 especially when we retired into the closet, that we 
 might " pray with all prayer and supplication in 
 the spirit." 
 
 .: He then discoursed on reading the Bible ; at- 
 tending public worship, and frequenting the Lord's 
 table ; shewing that as these were the means of grace 
 we might expect good from them ; yet, that it was 
 
99 
 
 possible to give a very diligent attendance on all 
 these things in a formal customary manner with our 
 lips, without the oil of grace: that the question was 
 not so much what we did, but that we should examine 
 the motive why we did it : that the true worship- 
 pers of God, whose services were acceptable, were 
 only they who " worshipped God in spirit and in 
 truth." He then made some remarks on a living 
 faith which ever united to Christ, and by which 
 union alone " the oil of grace" w r as communicated 
 to our hearts, and distilled itself throughout all our 
 actions : that a mere dead faith made a professor ; 
 but, that it was a living faith that made a possessor of 
 the grace of God in deed and in truth. 
 
 He next went on the business of rectifying another 
 mistake, that " the oil of grace" consisted in our 
 being blessed with good natural dispositions. He 
 observed, that even among the brutes, though of 
 the same kind, some of them had their good dispo- 
 sitions, and proved naturally manageable and kind, 
 while others of them were sulky and perverse ; and 
 that this mere diversity of disposition w r as equally 
 conspicuous in the human race ; and, consequently, 
 a mere good disposition, how r ever excellent in its 
 place, which might be found in a brute, as well as 
 in- the human race, could never be called " the oil 
 of grace ; " That these sweet-blooded sinners were too 
 frequently found among the most negligent and pro- 
 fane before God ; yet, in their way, affectionate and 
 kind towards others of their fellow sinners, while all 
 of them were equally at a distance from the holy 
 spiritual mind belonging to those who are truly " in 
 Christ Jesus." 
 
 Having thus warned his hearers against supposing 
 that a mere good disposition, however good in its 
 place, was of the nature of divine grace, he next 
 shewed that a life of the strictest morality might 
 
 L.«f or 
 
100 
 
 exist when " the oil of grace" was still wanting. — 
 Mr. Lovegdod boldly said, that an Atheist might be 
 a moral maa as well as a Christian*; and, that the 
 morality of most men was in general little better 
 than negative, consisting much more in what people 
 did not do, than in what they really did : and that 
 any man, from self-interested motives, would, for 
 the sake of his own ease and comfort, attend to the 
 common rules of morality, as all those who violated 
 them were guilty of the grossest acts of f Uy against 
 their own interest. That a man of unjust and knav- 
 ish principles was sooner or later sure to suffer for 
 his own folly. That the man of passion and re- 
 venge would certainly entail much greater suffer- 
 ings on himself than what others had felt from him, 
 by the mad violence of his anger.. In short, if a 
 man did but consult his own health or interest, he 
 would be moral : and that, however highly advan- 
 tageous a strict attention to the rules of morality 
 would prove to the good of society, yet, that real 
 Christians, who were blessed with the " oil of 
 grace," had much higher motives to go by T than 
 such as were to be found among mere moralists. 
 On these things, he afterwards so well expatiated, 
 that it puzzled Mr. Lovely's mind not a little : on 
 the one hand, he felt himself half angry, hat ail his 
 religious props were knocked from under him, while 
 he found it a considerable difficulty to deny the 
 truth of what he had heard. Bui when he perceived, 
 that Mrs. Lovely was still more seriously impressed 
 
 * It is probable Mr. Lovegood borrowed this expression from a fa- 
 mous charge, the present bishop of St. Asaph deliver*, d, when bishop of 
 St. David's : it is possible also, that his lordship may know, that even a 
 professedly Christian bishop may be less than moral, as well as an Athe- 
 ist; witness many of the bishops of Rome. The conclusion, therefore, 
 is, that such a man, notwithstanding his zeal, and the high office he may- 
 fill in the Christian Church, is, not only less than a Christian, but worse 
 than an Atheist, 
 
101 
 
 under a further discovery of her defective righte- 
 ousness, and began again to express the anxiety of 
 her mind, after her second return from church, how 
 much both of them had fallen short of the sacred 
 standard of real Christianity ; he was still more 
 highly incensed against the harsh doctrine of Mr. 
 Lovegood, which had so discomposed the mind of 
 his dearest Ann. Even the blessed tears of repent- 
 ance, as they trickled from her eye, pierced him to 
 the heart, while he heard with astonishment that 
 one of so pure a mind, in his esteem, should still ac- 
 knowledge herself such an unworthy sinner in the 
 sight of God. Matters, however, thus passed till 
 the next day. The reader is therefore requested to 
 suspend his curiosity till the morrow ; and, after a 
 night's rest, the subject will be resumed. 
 
 Vol. II. 
 
102 
 
 DIALOGUE XXII. 
 
 BETWEEN THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS, 
 MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE LOVELYS. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 FROM THE BOOK OF JOB. 
 
 ON the morrow, Mr. Lovegood attended on his 
 customary visit. Mr. Worthy having intro- 
 duced his guests to each other, it was observable, 
 that Mr. Lovely received the address of Mr. Love- 
 good with a degree of coldness and formality, very 
 contrary to that which belonged to the natural sweet- 
 ness of his disposition : and after dinner the follow- 
 ing conversation took place. [Mrs. Lovely appears 
 rather fainty and weak. ] 
 
 Lovely. 1 told you, my dear, that going to church 
 yesterday afternoon would be too much for you. 
 £ To Mr. Lovegood."] And, sir, I must be free to tell 
 you, that your doctrine is too severe and harsh for 
 my delicate and tender wife ; though I am sure, sir, 
 you mean it for the best, and I should be glad, if all 
 the clergy followed your good example. 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, sir, it was not my design to have 
 advanced any thing that was improperly harsh and 
 severe ; and if I have been guilty of such a mistake, 
 I wish to be opeil to conviction, and shall be quite 
 ready to retract it. 
 
 Lovely. Why, Sir, you must allow me the liberty 
 to say, I never heard any Divine but yourself make 
 
103 
 
 so free with the character of Job, as you did in 
 your morning sermon ; certainly he was a very holy 
 man. 
 
 Loveg. Dear sir, did I in any wise deny it? though 
 for a while he had such strange apprehensions and 
 misconceptions of God. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, Dr. Nescience *, the minister of our 
 parish, gave us a very different character of the 
 
 * Learned men should have learned names. No wonder then that Dr. 
 Nescience has his name from a Latin derivation, though in plain English, 
 Dr. Know-nothing ; all my other names I believe my readers can pretty 
 well comprehend without understanding Latin. A facetious old clergy- 
 man, Dr. Burton, Vice provost of Eton, when I was at that school; 
 par sed some neat sarcasms upon a person of a very ignorant and pedantic 
 character, recommending him to an uncle of mine, as being a gentleman 
 of great nesc'ence. The person began bowing and scraping ; supposing 
 the Doctor had passed upon him some very high compliment ; the Doc- 
 tor, therefore, heightened the compliment, by observing, that he could 
 not say too much of him on thar subject ; for that he knew him to be a 
 man of great Nescience, of 'very great Nescience indeed; and nothing fur- 
 ther was discovered oy the pedant, ihan that the highest compliment w T as 
 passed upon him j and, it is probable, our present Doctor was one of the 
 same family. 
 
 Dr. Nescience, it seems, procured his Doctor's degree, not from his 
 own University at Cambridge, where, had he made such an atttmpf, his 
 knowledge had been well sif L ed, and his ignorance thoroughly exposed : 
 from Cambridge therefore he received no higher honour, than thar of the 
 first degree of a Bachelor of Arts : but he came at his Doctor ship by a 
 much shorter cut, from one of the famous Universities in the North of Scot- 
 land ; and in order rhat he might obtain this high literary honour, ? testi- 
 monial of his learning being needed, this he procured to be signed by three 
 reverend gendemen of the same redoubtable order of Doctors ; Dr. Num- 
 scull, Dr. Papscull, and Dr. Loggerhead. 
 
 This information, however, as it respects Dr. Nescience, and by what' 
 means he obtained the high honour of being called the Doctor, reflects not 
 the least discredit on Dissenters, nor yet on some others cf real erudition, 
 where there are unhappy barriers in their way, to procure such degrees 
 in a more creditable line ; but Dr. Nescience, and the rest of his frater- 
 nity of the same order, have found out this, as the ready way to look big, 
 with a little, or even no learning. Before he procured his degree, he was 
 denominated the Utile Rector ; but now he found himself upon the pe- 
 destal of this Scotch Diploma, he had the satisfaction of being called the 
 little Doctor ; and the satisfaction, also, of several sharp curtain lectures 
 from his wife ; this famous honour having cost him not less than £10. 
 She oftentimes reminding him, for his extravagance, of the old proverb, 
 
104 
 
 life of Job, when he preached upon that text, " My 
 righteousness I hold fast, and will not let it go ; my 
 heart shall not reproach me, as long as I live." The 
 Doctor told us, that it was his own righteousness 
 which was his confidence, and that thereby he ob- 
 tained the reward of heaven, 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. But you know, my dear, neither you 
 nor I have any great opinion of the little Doctor or 
 his curate, Mr. Flimsey: we have both observed, 
 while they seem to be aiming at something, they can 
 make nothing out of it. But don't you think you 
 have a little misunderstood Mr. Lovegood ? [To Mr. 
 Lovegood'] Sir, it might be much to the satisfac- 
 tion of myself and my husband, if you would explain 
 yourself more fully on that subject. 
 
 Loveg. Dear sir, there is no doubt of the integrity 
 and uprightness of Job : but while he was righteous, 
 he was also self-righteous. There was his crime ; 
 and this rendered him proud and angry before God. 
 
 Lovely. Proud and angry — Why, was not he the 
 most patient man upon earth ? 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir, but his great patience awfully 
 failed him, till, by divine mercy, it was restored. 
 We have proof enough of this, when notwithstand- 
 ing his very deep afflictions during the seven days 
 and nights he passed in meek and holy submission, 
 under the deepest afflictions, he afterwards could 
 curse the day in which he was born. If you read 
 that chapter, sir, you will be as much struck at his 
 rebellion at one time, as at his patience at another. 
 
 A fool and his money are soon parted ; he contrived, however, in a measure, 
 to quiet her mind, under the idea that the loss of the money would soon be 
 recovered, as he was going to turn author, by re-publishing three famous 
 novels ; Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Killer, and Old Mother Goose's 
 Tales. These he meant to enrich with certain annotations, lucubrations, 
 and remarks of his own composing ; and he had no doubt but that his 
 Doctor's degree would wonderfully quicken the sale of the publication. 
 
105 
 
 Lovely. But if he did wrong in this, yet in other 
 respects he was doubtless a very righteous man. 
 
 Loveg. Certainly so, sir; and, before man, no one 
 had a greater rierht to vindicate himself against the 
 accusations of his three friends, who certainly mis- 
 took his case : they concluded him, very unjustly, to 
 be an arrant hypocrite, and that God had detected 
 him, and therefore he was severely punishing him 
 for his crimes. As far as human righteousness went, 
 he might venture to say, u he would hold it fast, 
 and would not let it go ;" and no doubt, but that 
 with the greatest justice he could further add, as it 
 respected the great and upright character he sustained; 
 u When the ear heard me, then it blessed me ; and 
 when the eye saw me, it gave witness unto me ; be- 
 cause I delivered the poor that cried, and the iather- 
 less, and him that had no helper; the blessing of 
 him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I 
 caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. I put on 
 righteousness, and it clothed me, and my judgment 
 was as a robe and a diadem : I was eyes to the/blind, 
 and feet was L to the lame. I was a father to the poor,, 
 and the cause which I knew not I searched out" 
 
 Lovely. Why, sir, was it possible for any one to 
 do more to deserve the character of a righteous man, 
 than he did? Could he be a good man and a bad vadn 
 at the same time, sir ? I cannot think we are called 
 to renounce our .integrity., 
 
 Wori. Really, sir, you and I have been stumbling 
 upon the very same " stone of stumbling, and rock 
 of offence;" I was as proud as ever Job was, of my 
 righteousness., when I only looked at the surface of my 
 character, as it appeared: before man; audi tuo.ught 
 Mr. Lovegood brought strange thingii to my cars, 
 when I heard him asiert, from the Bible, that ■" there 
 was none righteous, no not one. 5 ' 
 
 Loveg\ :&ir, Job did not know how much he scl 
 
 K2. 
 
106 ' 
 
 of the latent Pharisee in his heart, whereby he was 
 led to " trust in himself, that he was righteous," 
 like the Pharisees of old, though in other respects 
 he was by no means of their hypocritical cast. 
 
 Lovely. Why, how can another be righteous for 
 us? 
 
 Loveg. Dear sir, you do not understand me ; he 
 was rather led to applaud the goodness of his own 
 heart on account of these things, while he forgot to 
 give glory to him, " from whom all holy desires, all 
 good counsels, and all just works, do proceed : " * or, if 
 you please, to give it you in other words, it shculd 
 appear that he was more bent upon trusting in his own 
 righteousness, than in God who made him righteous; 
 for, respecting the best of men, it may be said, 
 as Eliphaz replied to Job, " What is man that he 
 should be clean ; and he that is born of a woman, 
 that he should be righteous ? Behold he putteth no 
 trust in his saints ; yea, the heavens are not clean in 
 his sight. How much more abominable and filthy is 
 man, which drinketh in iniquity like water?" And 
 again, " Can man be profitable unto God, as he that 
 is wise may be profitable unto himself? Is it any 
 pleasure to the Almighty that thou art righteous ; 
 or is it gain to him, that thou makest thy way per- 
 fect ? "j Nor can we conceive a more striking query 
 than that which we find in the same book. " How 
 can man be justified with God ; and how can he be 
 clean that is born of a woman? Behold, look even 
 to the moon, and it shineth not : yea, the stars are 
 not pure in his sight ; how much less man that is a 
 worm, and the son of man that is a worm?" J 
 
 Lovely. But, really, sir, though I confess I am no 
 divine, don't you think that Job's friends went too far 
 in speaking against the merit of his righteousness? 
 
 * Common Prayer Book. + Job xxii. 2, 3. % Job xr?. 4, 5, & 
 
lor 
 
 Loveg. I have already said, that they went much 
 too far, while they accused him of hypocrisy and 
 wickedness; yet we shall find that God himself ter- 
 minated the controversy, by shewing Job, not only 
 the folly of the supposed merit of his righteousness, 
 but also the sinfulness of those proud thoughts, which 
 must be brought down, as it were, by force of arms. 
 Do, sir, let me remind you of that passage in St. Paul 
 to the Corinthians : " For the weapons of our war* 
 fare are not carnal, but mighty through Gcd, to the 
 pulling down of strong holds ; casting down imagi- 
 nations, (or vain reasonings,) and every high thing 
 that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and 
 bringing into captivity every thought unto the obedi- 
 ence of Christ." 
 
 Lovely. Sir, these are very strong words; are you 
 sure you have quoted them correctly? though, I dare 
 say, you have done so to the best of your recollec- 
 tion. 
 
 Loveg. I believe, sir, I am perfectly exact ; but 
 while we further investigate the book of Job, I will 
 consult my pocket Bible, and we shall then go on 
 certain ground. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Did I not tell you, my dear George, 
 that Mr. Lovegood could well explain himself on 
 these points ? you see how he makes the Bible his 
 constant study. 
 
 Lovely. My dear, I am quite ready to hear what 
 Mr. Lovegood has to say, though I much fear lest 
 his religion should do you harm. 
 
 Loveg. [ With his Bible in his hand.~\ Dear sir, the 
 religion of this book can never do us any harm ; and 
 if you w 7 ill allow me to continue my observations on 
 the book of Job, that should be first noticed which is 
 said in the beginning of the thirty-second chapter 
 of that book: " So these three men ceased to 
 
108 
 
 answer job, because he was righteous in his own 
 eyes;" and Elihu being sent of God to settle the 
 controversy, thus charges Job for his presumptuous - 
 thoughts before God. " Surely thou hast spoken 
 in mine hearing, and I have heard the voice of thy 
 words, saying, I am clean without transgression; I am 
 innocent ; neither is there iniquity in me. Behold, 
 he findeth occasion against me; he counteth me for 
 his enemy. He putteth my feet in the stocks, he 
 marketh all my paths. Behold, in this thou art not 
 just: I will answer thee, that God is greater than 
 man. Why doest thou strive against him ? for he 
 giveth not account of any of his matters ?"* In the 
 thirty-fourth chapter, also, we find him reproved 
 for die same sort of pride and rebellion : " Job hath 
 said, I am righteous, and God hath taken away my 
 judgment. What man is like Job, who drinketh up- 
 scorning like water ? who goeth in company, (at 
 least in his conversation,) with the workers of ini- 
 quity, and walketh with wicked men. For he hath 
 said, it profiteth a man nothing, that he should de- 
 light himself with God." So that Elihu is, as it 
 were, obliged to vindicate the cause of God against 
 the profane suggestions of Job, by saying, " Far be 
 it from God, that he should do wickedness, and from 
 the Almighty that he should commit iniquity : yea, 
 surely God will not do wickedly, neither will the 
 Almighty pervert judgment ; for that Job had spoken 
 without knowledge, and his words were without 
 wisdom." It is the desire therefore of Elihu, " that. 
 Job may be tried unto the end, because of his an- 
 swers for wicked men : for he addeth rebellion unto 
 his sin, and clappeth his hands against us, and mill- 
 tiplieth his words against God. ?> 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. See, my dear, how plainly Mr. 
 Lovegood makes it out what sinners we all are,, on 
 account of such wicked thoughts. 
 
 * Job xxxiii. S— 3JL 
 
109 
 
 Lovely. Why, I confess, the subject never struck 
 me in this light so forcibly before; but I am un- 
 willing to give up the point even yet : I wish to take 
 some time to consider for myself ; and, with Mr- 
 Lovegood's leave, to consult with other divines on 
 the subject. 
 
 Loveg. By all means, dear sir, truth never suffers 
 by investigation. But even in the next chapter you 
 will find a deal more of the same proud language 
 charged on Job, as uttered against God. " Thou saidst 
 (said he) my righteousness is more than God's;" 
 therefore he adds, " What advantage will it be to 
 me, and what profit shall I have if I be cleansed 
 from my sin?" FJihu, therefore asks Job the ques- 
 tion, " If thou be righteous, what givest thou him ; 
 or what receiveth he at thine hand ? Thy wicked- 
 ness may hurt a man as thou art, and thy righteous- 
 ness may profit the son of man :" thus, he concludes, 
 that " Job opened his mouth in vain, and multi- 
 plied his words without knowledge." And, sir, if 
 I have not tired you with the number of my quota- 
 tions, you may see further what was the design of 
 God in this controversy with Job, " that he might 
 withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride 
 from man ;" he therefore humbled him by sickness, 
 and a variety of the most severe dispensations in pro- 
 vidence, that he might further be convinced of the 
 sinfulness of his heart ; for " If any man say I have 
 sinned, and perverted that which was right, and it 
 profiteth me not ; he will deliver his soul from go- 
 ing into the pit, and his life shall see the light ; for 
 all these things worketh God oftentimes with man, 
 to bring back his soul from the pit, and to be en- 
 lightened with the light of the living." How wise 
 and applicable was therefore the advice of Elihu? 
 Surely, it is meet to be said unto God, " I have 
 borne chastisement, I will not offend any more ; 
 
that which I see not, teach thou me : if I have done 
 ink] u it y, I will do so no more." 
 
 Wor. Indeed, Mr. Level v, I think vou would 
 find it truly profitable, if you would attend a little 
 more closely to the experience of Job. The speech 
 of Elihu always struck me, as containing some of 
 the most strong and conclusive arguments against 
 the proud and vain conceit that any of us can be 
 righteous before God. What arguments he de- 
 duces from the purity of God, the infinity of his 
 wisdom, the dignity and majesty of his existence, 
 to shew man the emptiness and folly of all he does, 
 and to lay him in the dust, that he may be sensible 
 what a poor unprofitable creature he is in every 
 point of view, and that " in his best estate, he is al- 
 together vanity." 
 
 Lovely. But, did not God, after all this, turn the 
 captivity of Job, and make the latter end of his life 
 more glorious than the former, as a proper reward 
 for ins integrity, humility, and patience ? 
 
 jLoveg\ No, verily, my good sir, God never gave 
 him a reward for his goodness ; though he merci- 
 fully restored him by his mere grace and forgiving 
 love, even alter all the hard and presumptuous 
 thoughts he had uttered against him : but not till 
 after he had cast him down from the hfgh pinnacle 
 of his pride, into the valley of humiliation, where 
 we all, either sooner or later, must be brought to 
 lie. .And there, it you read with attention that most 
 instructive and remarkable histon r , you will find 
 how God himself condescended to deal with him,, 
 till he made him to lie in the dust, and then he was 
 first constrained to cry, " Behold I am vile; what 
 shall I answer thee ? I will lay my hand upon my 
 mouth : once have I spoken, but I will not an- 
 swer; yea, twice; but I will proceed no further." 
 And let me request you to consider the solemn con- 
 
Ill 
 
 elusion of the controversy: ci I have heard of thee 
 by the hearing of the ear ; but now mine eye seeth 
 thee. Wherefore, I abhor myself, and repent in 
 dust and ashes." 
 
 Worthy. My dear Mr. Lovely^ I have heard Mr. 
 Lovegood frequently remark what a mistaken book 
 this has been, among all those who have not been 
 sufSciently attentive to this blessed portion of holy 
 writ ; and that no part of the word of God can be 
 better calculated to humble the pride of man, and to 
 produce in us a deep sense of our own unworthiness : 
 so as that we may be brought to accept salvation , 
 where alone it can be found, in the person of our 
 blessed Saviour, who lived and died to justify the 
 ungodly. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. O my dear, sure you must be con- 
 vinced what Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Worthy have 
 been saying is all true : as to myself, I must confess 
 what a proud, blasphemous, and rebellious wretch 
 I have been. O, that the Lord, for Christ's sake, 
 would have mercy upon me ! [ She drops a tear. ] 
 
 Mr. Lovely. [To Mr. Lovegood.'] Sir, I must re- 
 quest you to drop this subject ; you see my wife can- 
 not bear it ; her mind is much too tender to sustain 
 the shock of your harsh religion; besides, sir, I can- 
 not admit the doctrines you have advanced, till I 
 have examined matters more closely for myself : 
 [to Mr. Worthy.'] and I believe, sir, with your leave, 
 it will be necessary for my wife to recreate her spirits 
 by a short walk in your pleasure ground. 
 
 They accordingly submit, and the parties retire. 
 Between the Lovelys, the conversation took the 
 same turn as before : he continuing to plead the ne- 
 cessity of her non-attendance on Mr. Lovegood's 
 
112 
 
 ministry, for the sake of her health ; and she repeat- 
 ing her most anxious wishes to hear more of those 
 things, which, though they had forced some tears 
 from her eyes, yet she was satisfied were well cal- 
 culated to do infinite good to her heart. Mr. Love- 
 ly still finding it necessary to submit to her impor- 
 tunate desires, they returned, and attended with 
 the rest of the family to the meeting of the poor 
 children. Mr. Lovegood's method with the chil- 
 dren was at all times the most tender and engaging ; 
 but, now% in his exhortation, especially as he had 
 found a poor child that had lately been impressed 
 under the evil of sin, he made it a point to bring 
 forward, in sweet abundance, those precious pro- 
 mises of the Gospel, which might be best calcu- 
 lated to cheer the heart of Mrs. Lovely, under the 
 new discovery of her sinful state ; and this had so 
 far the defied effect, that the gloomy apprehen- 
 sions of Mr. Lovely again, in a measure, seemed to 
 subside, and a degree of cheerfulness took place, 
 which continued through the evening of the day. 
 
 Mr. Lovely's mind, however, continued to be so 
 exercised upon the subject, that he was not only 
 determined to dispute every inch of ground with 
 Mr. Lovegood ; but provide himself with such ma- 
 terials as he conceived would be best calculated to 
 make him a successful combatant. He accordingly 
 went the next morning to Mapleton, and enquired 
 where there wasabook-seilerVshop; he was recom- 
 mended of course to Mr. Wisehead ; and asked him 
 if he had any books of good sound divinity ? Mr. 
 Wisehead would have put into his hands many of 
 the books of the modern Socinians, and, among 
 others, he requested him to read zt few pages of 
 Priestley on Necessity. Mr. Lovely then asked Mr. 
 Wisehead if ihat was not an abridgement of Hobbs, 
 Spinoza, and other infidel philosophers. Upon this 
 
113 
 
 some conversation took place between Mr. Wise- 
 head and Mr. Lovely, who was much more shocked 
 at the horrid extremes of the Socinians, than ever he 
 could be at the dreary notions of fylr. Lovegood. 
 Finding, however, that he could make nothing out 
 from this quarter, he next enquired about the mi- 
 nister of the parish, whether he thought it would 
 be deemed impertinent, if- he went to consult him 
 as a divine. Mr. Wisehead observed, that he sup- 
 posed Mr. Dolittle might give him a kind reception \ 
 and that he was sure to find him at home, as he was 
 but just recovering from a fall from his horse ; but 
 that there was a Dr. Dronish, the dissenting minister, 
 whom he attended, who was looked upon to be a 
 very able and rational divine. Mr. Lovely thanked 
 him for his information ; but that if the Dr. was an 
 admirer of the same sort of divinity as was to be 
 found in his shop, he had rather go the regular way 
 to work, and consult the minister of the parish. 
 Having thus resolved, he purchased nothing more 
 than a flimsy sermon of Mr. Archdeacon Smooth- 
 tongue's, shewing that all the austere texts in the 
 Bible ought to be confined to primitive times, as 
 they were not fit for the present day,, and took his 
 leave of Mr. Wisehead, and resorted to Mr. Do- 
 little's. 
 
 He first introduced himself as a traveller ; men- 
 tioned his kind entertainment at Mr. Worthy's, and 
 then began telling him how his mind had been un- 
 hinged and puzzled by the preaching of Mr. Love- 
 good. Dolittle immediately interrupts, by say- 
 ing, — " What did you go to hear that mad fellow 
 for?" — "Sir," said Mr. Lovely, " I always love to 
 go to the parish church of a Sunday ; and his divi- 
 nity struck both me and my wife, as being, very 
 different from what we commonly hear. I should 
 be glad, sir, if you would but explain some matters 
 
 Vol. II. L 
 
114 
 
 to mc ; I come, with your leave to consult you as 
 a divine. 55 — cc I explain matters! 55 says Belittle : 
 " what have you to do with such abstruse notions 
 in religion as he preaches ? You are not the first 
 person that has had his brains turned by going after 
 the ranting nonsense preached by that good-for-no- 
 thing designing fellow. 5 5 — [Lovely adjoins:'] ' ' Why, 
 sir, Mr. Lovegcod, in my opinion, is neither a mad 
 man, nor a bad man ; but, I confess, I at least ex- 
 pected a civil answer to a civil question. 55 — Doiittle 
 answers; " Sir, to tell you the truth, when people 
 come canting and talking about their souls, I always 
 suspect they come with some design ; and I am sure 
 they do if they come from that quarter. None of 
 my parishioners ever come to me with such whining 
 tales. I tell them their duty of a Sunday ; and if 
 ihey practise it, that is enough for them ; and it 
 will be enough for you : and so you may go away 
 and mind your business ; for I expect, sir, you are 
 upon the catch ; but you shall get nothing out of 
 me. 55 This coarse reception was quite like a thun- 
 der-clap to the mild and amiable Mr. Lovely, and 
 made him glad to escape from the presence of the 
 enraged Rector as fast as he could 
 
 These rebuffs, however, did not damp the in- 
 quisitive zeal of Mr. Lovely after truth ; and while 
 he could start many objections against Mr. Love- 
 good 5 s doctrines, yet he had some serious misgiv- 
 ings that all might not be right notwithstanding. 
 This visit, however, had this good effect ; the con- 
 trast between the bluntness and ignorance of Rec- 
 tor Doiittle, and the meek, humble, and affectionate 
 conduct of Mr. Lovegood, made Mr. Lovely, after- 
 wards, receive with greater candour and modera- 
 tion whatever he had to advance on these important 
 subjects. 
 
 Another circumstance, however occurred, which 
 
115 
 
 also gave a still more favourable turn to his prejudices. 
 Though Mr. Merrvman had left Brookfield Hall, 
 Oil the previous Saturday, yet he returned thither 
 on the Wednesday. An attractive load-stone, in 
 the person of Miss Worthy, was supposed to be 
 the cause of these frequent communications; aiub 
 the reader will have no reason to doubt, but that 
 the result of this courtship will be as honourable, 
 correct, and good, as the parties are themselves. 
 There are few living, of a more amiable, pleasant, 
 and excellent turn of mind, than Mr. Merryman, 
 since he has known the grace of Gcd in truth ; 
 ^vhile every year, Mr. Lovegood has the uncommon 
 satisfaction to see his beloved son in the gospel grow 
 in tverj good word and work. 
 
 No wonder that one of such amiable temper and 
 manners soon stole into the good graces of the 
 L jveiys. Mr. Lovely especially admired his great 
 candour and liberality, in speaking about that wor- 
 thy old clergyman Doctor Orderly, though he had 
 been holding a long controversy with him on condi- 
 tional justification; admiring that a difference in 
 sentiment could not prevent him from speaking 
 very largely of the Doctor's temper, diligent dis- 
 charge of his duty, liberality and great attention to 
 the poor ; that while his dignified priestly appear- 
 ance would rather alarm them, yet his humble de- 
 portment would still allure them ; that, by the very 
 respectable regularity of his conduct, he had got the 
 character, among others, of a precise old fool, and 
 especially from the following circumstance, which- 
 had recently taken place. 
 
 While Mr. Sedate his curate, was on a visit at a 
 distance, to see his friends, the doctor was unex- 
 pectedly taken ill, when his presence was needed to 
 attend the funeral of one who died of a mortifica- 
 tion. A speedy interment being necessary, the Doc- 
 
116 
 
 tor was in much perplexity to know who should 
 perform this ofice; it was hinted to him that the 
 Rev. Mr. Jackadandy, a neighbouring clergyman, 
 would be glad to do that service for him. This the 
 Doctor instantly resisted, saying he would sooner 
 die than that the sacred offices of the church should 
 suffer the disgrace of being performed by such cox- 
 combs in divinity. The Doctor accordingly, dressed 
 like an old woman, in his morning gown, with his 
 handkerchief about his head, staggered out of his 
 chamber and performed the office. * 
 
 The reader will naturally suppose, that on the 
 Wednesday evening lecture, Mr. Lovegood would 
 avail himself of the assistance of Mr. Merrvman, and 
 a previous hint having been given him respecting 
 the state of the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, he 
 preached a very appropriate sermon on the following 
 text, — " Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all 
 her paths are peace;" and all the family returned 
 from the church serious, yet cheerful and happy. 
 This gave Mrs. Lovely a further opportunity of ob- 
 viating her husband's objection, as it respected the 
 melancholy consequences of real religion. Mr. 
 Merry man is always cheerful, and now she was 
 cheerful too ; and though, at times, she would still 
 drop the penitential tear ; yet, as she was in the way 
 of hearing so much of these generous promises, 
 which are so freely held forth in the word of God, 
 
 * If the reader wishes for a further description of the race of these 
 jftsm/o-spiritual monkies in holy orders, they are generally to be known by 
 Uieir loose and vain affectation, especially in their dress. They are the 
 fools of fashion ; and, as they now dress, you would rather suppose them 
 to be a set of jockies in half-mourning. The present Mr. Jackadandy 
 always appears stufted out with such an abundance of wadding about his 
 neckcloth and collar, that he reminds you cf a pouting pigeon. His 
 coat behind is cut quite short like a soldier's jacket, while he never ap- 
 pears but in his short boots, over his coloured stockings, whisking about 
 his little cane with amazing dexterity like a magic wand ; and as scon as 
 the fashion changes, there is no doubt but that he will be the same dap- 
 
* . fir 
 
 her mind seemed to be much more allured by the 
 gospel, than alarmed by the law ; and this made 
 Mr. Lovely less anxious to move his quarters. 
 
 On the next evening* however, at family prayer, 
 Mr. Merryman read the third chapter of the epistle 
 to the Romans, which so decidedly settles the point 
 of our justification, alone "through the redemption 
 which is in Christ, 55 that Mr. Merryman supposed he 
 had a right to say, some people were more in danger 
 from their good works than their bad ones, if they 
 were tempted to make them a matter of their confi- 
 dence before God. 
 
 After the family service, it appeared that this 
 speech considerably offended the self-righteous views 
 of Mr. Lovely. He thought it very add, that the 
 Almighty should require nothing of us in point of 
 justification; and that, if such sentiments were just, 
 good people had no better chance for heaven than 
 bad ones ; that, though we certainly ought, in a 
 measure, to trust in our Saviour's merits, yet, it 
 still seemed very strange to him, that nothing should 
 be required of us to entitle ourselves to those merits. 
 Thus the conversation on the same subject recom- 
 menced, while Mr, Merryman very properly begged 
 that the Bible itself, without any forced commentary 
 whatever, might settle the point. The same -apos- 
 
 per Jackadandy in the next extreme, ,should the jacket or coat grow into 
 such a size as to be turned into a petticoat. 
 
 One observation further, as it respects the furniture of ^he pates of 
 these Jackadandys. Their studies are mostly confined 1:0 the paltry, loose 
 periodical publications of the day 1 out of these they pick and cull dif- 
 ferent passages, and these, with awkard impertinence, they retail as 
 their own. As for the study of divinity, how far that claims any share 
 of their attention is easily settled. When one of them, being under ex- 
 amination for orders, was asked, Who is the mediator between God and 
 man ? he profoundly answered, it was His Grace the Lord Archbishop of 
 Canterbury- Can any one wonder that the grave and respectable Dr. 
 Orderly should be so disgusted at such a Jackadandy, as not to permit; 
 him even to bury the dead ? 
 
 l 2 
 
tie was, therefore, referred to, to make good his 
 own conclusion, that a man is justified by faith only 
 without the deeds of the law : while Mr. Lovely was 
 not a little surprised to find in the fourth chapter, 
 that the justification of the person of Abraham was 
 by faith only in the righteousness of Christ, which 
 was accounted, reckoned, or imputed * to all them 
 that believe ; and that the works of Abraham, as 
 mentioned by St. James, were not to justify his per- 
 son before God, but his faith before man ; because if it 
 were otherwise to be interpreted, it would be utterly 
 impracticable to reconcile St. Paul and St. James 
 to each other ; and equally impossible ihat we could 
 be justified by the faith of the Gospel only, as St. Paul 
 declares, in order " that we may have peace with God 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 Thus the perplexity of Mr. Lovely was very con- 
 siderable, while the conversation was highly satis- 
 factory to the feelings of Mrs. Lovely, who almost 
 shocked the formality of her amiable husband by 
 saying, that all she did was intermixed with sin, and 
 that she felt her need of mercy as much as the vilest 
 .Magdalen on the earth. 
 
 Mr. Lovely, however, finding, himself hard press- 
 ed,, begged for quarter : he requested to know, as 
 Dr. Orderly was such an excellent man, and seem- 
 ed to be more of his way of thinking, whether he 
 could not contrive so as to have an interview with 
 him. The hospitable and friendly Mr. Merry man 
 immediately observed, that he did not doubt it ; 
 that he and the worthy Dr. were on very friendly 
 terms ; and that, as his living was but about six 
 miles from his house, he was sure the Dr. would treat 
 him as a gentleman and a Christian. But as he was 
 always much engaged in composing fresh sermons 
 for his congregation, he did not love to be inter- 
 
 * These three expressions are all the same in the original Greek- 
 
119 
 
 rupted towards the latter end of the week ; that he 
 could as yet give Mr. Lovely nothing better than 
 bachelor's fare, though he hoped to see better days* 
 (casting a wishful look at Miss Worthy) but that 
 still he would do his best. 
 
 This generous conduct and affectionate familiarity 
 still more interested the LoveiyS in the favour of 
 Mr. Merryman. A promise was given that they 
 would make an excursion to Sandover ; the result of 
 which will soon be communicated to the reader. 
 
12(P 
 
 DIALOGUE XXIII. 
 
 BETWEEN MR. WORTHY, MR. LOVEGOOD, FAR- 
 MER LITTLEWORTH, HENRY, AND OTHERS. 
 
 THE STORY OF MRS. CHIPMAN RESUMED. 
 
 Containing an Account of the Return of Heiiry Lit- 
 tie-worthy and the happy Death of Mr. Chapman. 
 
 DURING the absence of the Lovelys, while on 
 their visit to Mr. Menyman, Henry Littleworth 
 returned. The result of this visit shall now be 
 brought forward? 
 
 Farmer Littleworth. [To his wife.] Why, Dame, 
 here is old Nelly Trot, the letter-carrier; she has 
 brought a letter from Mapleton, and it is from Har- 
 ry. Dear child, I hope he is coming home. It ap- 
 pears to me as if he had been gone a longful time. 
 [To Miss Nancy.] Nancy, my child, pay the post- 
 age, and give poor Nelly a cup of drink. 
 
 Miss Nancy. Nelly, what does the letter come to ? 
 
 Nelly. Eight-pence, Miss- 
 
 Mrs. Littlew. Eight-pence! why, it is just double 
 since this French war. 
 
 - Farmer. Never mind, dame, the Lord be thanked ! 
 better pay a few more taxes than be governed by 
 JBonypart, and the French folk ; but, come in, and 
 let us read the letter. [The Farmer puts on his 
 spectacles and reads it.] 
 
 " MY MOST DEAR FATHER, 
 
 " Through the great. mercy of God, all the 
 designs of my journey to Logksbury Have been 
 
121 
 
 fully answered. Mr. Chipman resigned his sou! in- 
 to the hands of God on Wednesday last. What 
 blessed things he said during his sickness, and what 
 a glorious end he made of it ! I was with him in 
 the solemn moments of his departure. When he 
 felt himself going he took me by the hand and 
 kissed it, and then said, God bless you a thousand 
 times for your attention to my precious souk I said 
 to him, dear sir, you are just going i to be dissolved 
 and to be with Christ;' then he stammered out, 
 word after word, ' Our light afflictions, which are 
 but for a moment, work out for us a far piore exceed- 
 ing and eternal weight of glory. 5 Immediately he 
 closed his eyes, appealed vzryjainty, squeezed my 
 hand, and then said, 4 God is come ; 5 fetched a long 
 siQ;h, and breathed no more. Mr. Reader was also 
 standing at the- bed- side ; and when he perceived his 
 son-in-law was going, fell down on his knees, and of- 
 fered up a secret prayer ; and, after he found he was 
 dead, while a plentiful shower of tears were running 
 down his cheeks, he kissed his corpse, and said, 
 ■ Oh, that my poor unfortunate daughter should 
 have been the death of that most worthy man. y Oh, 
 my dear father, what scenes I have beheld since I left 
 your house on this occasion ! but be sure don't tell 
 Mrs. Chipman what Mr. Reader said when her hus- 
 band died. And I think it will be best not to inform 
 her of any thing about his death, till after my return, 
 for then I can first tell her what a blessed state of mind 
 he was brought into before he died, which may be 
 the most likely way of preserving her heart from be- 
 ing broken by the death of her husband, through her 
 unfaithful conduct. 
 
 " Oh my dear parents, how rejoiced I am, that 
 my base conduct had not the same effects on you as 
 Mrs. Chipman's elopement has had on her poor hus- 
 band : and what a mercy it is, dear Father, that your 
 
122 
 
 once profligate son should now be employed on an 
 errand, in which he has had the honour of conveying 
 the news of the same salvation he has felt on his own 
 heart, to others that were once as ignorant, if not as 
 wicked, as himself." 
 
 [Here the Farmer takes off his spectacles, and 
 weeps, and cries, " O this child, this sweet child ! 
 see what the grace of God can do i The Lord be 
 praised ! O what would I give, if Polly and Patty 
 were but like my dear Hairy !"] 
 
 Mrs. Littlcw. Master, your spirits are so affected, 
 had I not better pour you out a glass of currant 
 wine ? 
 
 Far. No, I thank you, dame. Harry's iettter 
 is but a short one, I'll read the rest of it. [The 
 spectacles are again mounted, and the Farmer pro- 
 ceeds with the letter.] 
 
 " As the end of my coming to this place is now 
 accomplished, and as I have already been above a 
 month from home, I wish to return as soon as cir- 
 cumstances will allow ; but Mr. Reader is so very 
 anxious that I should stop over the funeral, and help 
 him to settle his son's affairs, that I cannot resist 
 his importunate request. I fear, therefore, I shall 
 not be at home till next Friday, or Saturday se'n- 
 night; though, indeed, if I were to stop in these parts * 
 another Sabbath after the next, I think my patience \ 
 would be quite exhausted. You cannot conceive, 
 my dear Father, what a difference there is between 
 the sermons of Mr. Fribble and Mr. Lovegocd. 
 Blessed be God, I never was made so thankful for 
 the preaching of the word of life, as since I have for 
 a season been deprived of it. At times it quite af- 
 fects me, that the people in these parts should hear 
 no more of the Gospel, and sometimes hardly as 
 much as might be expected from a mere Heathen 
 philosopher,- As I hope, with the Lord's blessing. 
 
123 
 
 to see you again so soon, I need only, for the present,, 
 add, that, when you have time, it might not be 
 amiss if you could ride down to Mr. Lovegood, and 
 consult him about the' best plan of laying before 
 Mrs. Chipman her family affairs : and in this, and in 
 every concern, may the Lord give us wisdom and 
 grace to act as shall be most consistent with his 
 glory ! With my kind love to my sisters, and most 
 affectionate duty to you, dear Father and Mother, 
 I am, 
 
 Your most dutiful and loving son, 
 
 Henry Littleworth." 
 
 The Farmer, according to his son's advice, went 
 to Mr. Lovegood to consult him. Mr. Lovegood* 
 was of opinion that Mr. Worthy would be glad still 
 further to interest himself on this business. It was 
 therefore agreed, that directly as Mr. Henry came 
 home they should all go together to Brookfield Hall, 
 and that Mr. Lovegood should give Mr. Worthy 
 previous notice of their intentions. 
 
 Henry returned on the Friday eve, as he men- 
 tioned in his letter. We pass by ail the affectionate 
 intercourse between his own relatives on his arrival, 
 and record the conversation which took place on the 
 Saturday morning, according to appointment. 
 
 Farmer Littleworth, Henry, and Mr. Lovegood 
 are introduced. 
 
 Worthy. How do you all do ? Come in, Mr. Lit- 
 tleworth, I wish you joy on your son's return. 
 
 Farmer. Thank your honour; but it seems as if he 
 had been gone for an age. Harry and I never loved 
 one another as we do now, till we both were taught 
 to love the Lord. \to Henry'] Jy'nt it so, mv dear 
 child ? 
 
124 
 
 Henry. Ah, father, I hope we shall both have 
 eternal reason to bless God for his love. This sets 
 all right between parents and children, and ail the 
 world, if all was wrong before., 
 
 Wor. Well, let us all sit down, and then Mr. 
 Henry will inform us what passed at Loeksbury, that 
 we may know how to act. 
 
 Henry. Though I have already been telling my 
 , father about matters ; yet, for the sake of your in- 
 formation, sir, I had better relate things from the be- 
 ginning. 
 
 Wor. I wish you would, Mr. Henry. - By what 
 we have heard from the letters vou sent to vour fa- 
 ther, 1 expect it will be a very interesting narra- 
 tion. 
 
 Henry. Whw, sir, as soon as I came to Locks- 
 bury, I first called on Mr. Reader, told him who I 
 was, and on what errand I came, and then gave him 
 Mr. Lovegood's letter, and the three books. While 
 he read -the letter, he appeared very much affected in- 
 deed; and after he had finished it, he cried, " What 
 would I give to know the writer of this letter ! What 
 a good man, and a good preacher he must be, to 
 have wrought such a reformation on my poor daugh- 
 ter ! And what a character Mr. Worthy must be, 
 to take so ktnd a part on behalf of that unfortunate 
 girl !" After some other conversation, he observed, 
 \jo Mr. Lovegood'] that your notions in religion 
 were till of late, widely different from his ; but that 
 he conceived the reason was, that he had been much 
 more engaged in studying the works of man, than 
 the word 01 God. 
 
 Loveg. After that declaration, I think you had 
 better not have given him the bocks which were 
 sent for his acceptance. 
 
 Henry. Why, I could not do otherwise, as they 
 were mentioned in. the letter ; but I said he was to 
 
125 
 
 judge of those books, only by the word of God, and 
 not of the word of God bv them. 
 
 Wor. Did you go to see poor Mr. Chipman, the 
 same day you had the first interview with Mr. 
 Reader ? 
 
 Henry. No, sir ; Mr. Reader said, after he had 
 dismissed his school, he would prepare his son's mind 
 for the visit on the next day. And so he took Mrs. 
 Chipman's letter, and that which you, sir, [to Mr. 
 .Lovegood,"] wrote to him, that,he might read them 
 before I saw him. 
 
 Loveg. This was a prudent step ; but what was 
 the result ? 
 
 Henry. O, sir, the condition poor Mr. Reader 
 was in, on his return that evening, can never be 
 expressed. He told me the grief of his son-in-law 
 was so strong, that he could not leave the house 
 till near midnight. Mr. Chipman's perpetual cry 
 was, " Oh, that my dear Jemima had known Mr. 
 Lovegood before she had met with that horrid pro- 
 fiigate^ who seduced her !" — It was very affecting to 
 see an old grey-headed man, crying, sobbing, and 
 sighing, under such a calamity. 
 
 Wor. After this, I suppose the next day you 
 visited Mr. Chipman ? 
 
 Henry. Yes, sir; but before we went to bed, I 
 plucked up courage and said, " Sir, is it not time to 
 go to family prayer? 55 He blushed exceedingly and 
 thea answered, cc I generally pray by my self ';" and 
 then added : " But if what Mr. Lovegood says be 
 true, I fear I never prayed in all my Hie. " And being 
 so young in years, and so much younger still in grace, 
 I thought it would look too forward in me to pro- 
 pose prayer myself. I am afraid I was once much 
 more bold as a sailor, than I am now as a Christian. 
 After this Mr. Reader shewed me to my bed, which 
 
 Vol. IL M 
 
 o 
 
126 
 
 he had kindly provided for me, and tne next day I 
 went and visited Mr. Chipman. 
 
 Wor. Poor man ! and how did you find him ? 
 
 Henry. ^ O, sir, there I saw one that was but a 
 little while before a fine personable young man, 
 literally dying of a broken heart, and reduced to a 
 skeleton, in the last stage of a rapid consumption, 
 with his hands twisted in each other, and his eyes 
 running down with tears. Then he cried, " Oh ! 
 that unfeeling wretch, who could take such a cruel 
 advantage on my poor thoughtless wife ! What a 
 treasure I once thought I possessed in her ! Well, 
 well, I thank God that she is a penitent ; and the 
 Lord make me a penitent too ! For though I have 
 been kept from all outward acts of injustice between 
 man and man ; yet now I see, by Mr. Lovegood's 
 letters, and by some closer attention to my Bible, 
 that I had need of mercy before God, as bad as 
 if I had been the biggest reprobate upon earth. 5 ' 
 And seeing them both so very humble, I took cou- 
 rage, and asked them if I should go to prayer, and 
 .they immediately consented. 
 
 JLoveg. And how did they seem after prayer ? 
 
 Henry. Oh, sir, all the time we were at prayer, 
 poor Mr. Chipman did nothing but sob and cry, 
 till I was almost as much overcome as himself; and 
 Mr. Reader was quite as much affected as either of 
 us. I humbly trust, sir, through the mercy of God, 
 it was prayer indeed. 
 
 Farmer. \To Mr. Lovegood.'] And what a mercy 
 it is, that my dear child can make such a distinguish- 
 ment between real prayer and sham prayer. The 
 Lord be praised ! 
 
 Loveg. Well, but Mr. Little worth, with your 
 leave, we should be glad if your son would continue 
 the story. 
 
127 . 
 
 Henry. After prayer, I talked to them from my 
 Own experience as well as I could ; what wicked 
 hearts we all have, and how 7 we all sin, at least by 
 our short-comings, every moment we live ; and 
 then I went on telling them of the glorious salva- 
 tion of. our blessed Redeemer, and the need there 
 was that our hearts should be changed, or that we 
 must be regenerate and made new creatures in Christ, 
 before we could be taken to glory. And I remember 
 it was just then, that Mr. Reader said, it was but 
 the other day he thought it all nonsense to talk 
 about a change of heart, if we were but moral ; but 
 that now he shuddered at his own ignorance. 
 
 Loveg. All this was blessed teaching. The first 
 work of the Divine Spirit is to convince a man of 
 sin : we know 7 nothing, till we know that " we are 
 vile. 55 ~ 
 
 Henry. Yes, sir, and Mr. Reader seemed to be 
 convinced of this, for he said to me, " I seem to' 
 have been doing ail my life, and have done nothing 
 right after all. 55 
 
 Loveg. Well, well ; this knowledge must have 
 been not less profitable than it was painful. 
 
 Henry. He even went so far as to say, that no- 
 thing shocked him so much as what he once fancied 
 was his righteousness. He was thoroughly con- 
 vinced, that even his prayers were but mere farce 
 and form ; and that, as of late he had been seriously 
 reading over the Church Prayers, he now saw he had* 
 been saying a thousand times with his lips, what he 
 had never felt in his heart. 
 
 Loveg. Nothing but a knowledge of our misery 
 will ever prompt us to seek for mercy. How dif- 
 ferent the language of Mr. Reader now, to what it 
 was when our correspondence first commenced ! 
 But as it seems by your letters to your father, the 
 family would not let you leave them till after Mr. 
 
128 
 
 Chipman's death, ycu can tell us further of the good 
 man's experience before his departure. 
 
 Henry. Why, sir, I first advised him to withdraw 
 all his thoughts from the calamities he had suffered 
 by the seduction of Mrs. Chipman, as all those tem- 
 poral connexions would soon be dissolved by death. 
 
 Loveg. That was good advice. Was he able to 
 follow- it ? 
 
 Henry. In a great measure he was. Mr. Reader 
 and I went to see him every day, and sometimes 
 oftener. He was never happy but when one of us 
 was with him. Sometimes we went together ; and 
 at other times we would take it bv turns. And 
 when Mr. Reader was with him, as well as I could, 
 I used to attend on his scholars ; for Mr. Chipman 
 was always complaining of his ignorance, and beg- 
 ging us to read to him, when his strength would in 
 any measure enable him to attend. He in general 
 used to engage his father to read out of Beveridge's 
 Private Thoughts ; but when I was with him, he 
 would scarce suffer me to take up any other book 
 but the Bible. 
 
 Wor. I suppose, to speak the truth, you could 
 tell him the meaning of it a little better than his fa- 
 ther ? 
 
 Henry. Why, sir, I did it according to the best 
 of my poor little ability ; but it is amazing what 
 questions he would ask at one time, and what sur- 
 prise he discovered at the plain reading of the word 
 of God at another : and the nearer he drew to . his 
 end, how delighted he seemed to be with the gra- 
 cious promises of redemption and pardon through 
 Jesus Christ, crying, "Nothing but mercy will now 
 do for me." Then he mentioned those words in 
 St. J ude, " looking for the mercy of our Lord 
 Jesus unto eternal life." 
 
 fcaveg: It is happy for us when we are brought 
 
1M- - - 
 
 to that blessed peine, Christ on his mercy -seat must 
 be all our hope. 
 
 Heft. How he was delighted with such texts as 
 these : " Come unto me, all ye that are weary and 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest."— " Behold 
 the lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the 
 world."—" Wherefore he is able to save to the ut- 
 termost, them that come unto God by him ; seeing 
 he ever liveth to make intercession for us."* — " Ye 
 are complete in him." And when I was reading 
 that text, " That we may present every man perfect 
 in Christ Jesus," I remember how he cried, " Blessed 
 be God, I snail soon be presented perfect in Christ 
 Jesus !" Then he said," Mr. Littleworth, do I quote 
 that text aright"—" Who shall lay any thing to 
 the charge of God's elect ; it is God that justified'!, 
 who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, 
 yea, rather, that is risen again, who is even at the 
 right hand of God, who alsomaketb intercession for 
 us ?" And then he added the other part of the text, 
 " For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life ? 
 nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things 
 present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth. 
 nor any other creature shall be able to separate us 
 from the, love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 
 Lord." I remember he talked in this maimer about 
 ten days before his death. 
 
 JLoveg. Why then, it should appear, that as the 
 strength of his body decreased* his faith and cbilfi- 
 dence in God increased, 
 
 lien. Indeed, sir, it did ; for often when I 
 asked him a question, he would direct! v answer it 
 by a quotation from Scripture, Once, when I asked 
 him how. he was, he answered, " The peace of God, 
 which passeth all understanding, keeps my heart and 
 mind through Jesus Christ." Then he paused and 
 said, " Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose 
 
 M 2 
 
loO 
 
 m«*id is staid on thee, because hetrusteth in thee :" 
 lie is " my resting place," and " his rest is glo- 
 rious." 
 
 If or. It is really surprising how well he recol- 
 lected the Scriptures. 
 
 Hen. Why, as soon as he recovered from his 
 fever, he began asking for his Bible ; and from the 
 first of his visitation, he was ever seeking after some- 
 thing he was satisfied was still wanting. Mr. 
 Fribble brought him Pope's Essay on Man, and re- 
 commended him to say his Universal Prayer, think- 
 ing that would do him good. 
 
 JLoveg. Good ! What good could he get from such 
 heathenish trash ? What poor sinner could ever find 
 out salvation by Christ, by reading such divinity, if 
 it deserves the name ? 
 
 Hen. Indeed, when I was with him, there was 
 very little danger of his being captivated with such . 
 books ; for when I once told him that he liked the 
 old book best, he cried, " Old book! why every 
 letter of it is new to me. How ashamed I am of 
 myself, that I have so much neglected it till now ; 
 but, Oh, what grace and mercy, that God, at the 
 eleventh hour of my short life, should have made it 
 such a delightful book to my soul ; though I never 
 knew its real meaning till after Mr. Lovegood had 
 corresponded with my father." Towards the conclu- 
 sion of his illness, he grew so spiritual, that he 
 seemed almost always in prayer, or engaged in 
 quoting some promises of the Gospel, so that it 
 was with some difficulty we could get him to settle 
 his family affairs. 
 
 War. And how did you settle that difficulty, Mr. 
 Henry ? 
 
 Hen. Why, sir, it was mostly done by Mr. 
 Reader and myself. The old gentleman is half 'a 
 lawyer, and is often consulted on law occasions > and 
 
131 
 
 Mr: Chipman left that matter entirely with him : 
 he only desired it might . be mentioned, that he 
 forgave his wife irom the bottom of his soul ; that, 
 as he trusted her repentance was sincere, she ought 
 not to think of a second marriage, while their only 
 child, and still an infant, demanded the utmost of 
 her attention and care. That, though he would 
 .wish to leave it under guardians yet he recom- 
 mended it to the guardians to intrust it to the 
 mother so long as she did her duty by it ; that what 
 little property he might have realized by his busi- 
 ness, should be preserved for the child ; but that 
 under the direction of the guardians, the interest 
 might belong to his wife for her maintenance, and 
 for the education of the child ; and Mr. Reader and 
 I settled his accounts as well as we could. 
 
 Wor. This was very just and fair, and w r e shall all 
 act in the same upright manner, while we are under 
 the influence of Divine Grace. 
 
 Farmer. But, Harry, my child, I w T ould rather 
 hear you go on, and tell us. how the good man died; 
 it is mighty moving to me, to hear what precious 
 things he was able to speak. Blessed be God, at 
 times, I know something of the same experience ; 
 though, at other tii/.es, I feel myself sadly tosticated 
 by the devil and my wicked heart ; yet I think, by the 
 blessing of God, I feel I hate sin a thousand times 
 worse than I hate a toad. 
 
 Henry. Well, then, father, we'll go on with the 
 rest of it. Poor Mr. Chipman, a few days before 
 his death, had strong fainting fits, and was entirely 
 confined to his bed. After one of these fits, he cried, 
 " though my flesh and my heart faileth, yet God is 
 the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever- 
 more." And when I observed that he appeared very 
 fainty, he directly answered, " For this cause I faint 
 not ; for though my outward man perish, yet the in- 
 
132 
 
 ward man is renewed day by day." And then again, 
 after he had been discharging a deal of corruption 
 from his lungs, and looking at his hands and arms, 
 now worn away to mere skin and bones, he cried. 
 " This corruptible shall put on incorruption ; and 
 this mortal shall put on immortality. Then shall be 
 brought to pass the saying that is written : Death is 
 swallowed up in victory." I am sure that I have gi- 
 ven up my precious soul into the hands of my dear 
 Redeemer : and though I seem to feel myself the 
 poorest sinner that ever lived, yet now through him 
 I can sing, " O, death, where is thy sting ! O, grave, 
 where is thy victory ! The sting of death is sin ; and 
 the strength of sin is the law : but thanks be to God, 
 that ffiveth us the victory through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord." 
 
 I.oveg. He seemed to be made of " a quick un- 
 derstanding in the fear of the Lord," while his me- 
 mory was preserved wonderfully retentive and cor- 
 rect. 
 
 Jlenrij. Sir, he was always asking me to point him 
 out those parts of Scripture, which I thought were 
 most applicable to his state, as a dying man ; and 
 those chapters or psalms he would be perpetually 
 reading, as long as he was able, while his poor head 
 was tottering upon his shoulders, through weakness 
 all the time. He was particularly delighted with 
 the gospel of St. John. Once I remember he said, 
 " How little have I known, till of late, what our bles- 
 sed Saviour could mean by saying that he was M the 
 bread of life," and " the living bread which came 
 down from heaven ;" but now it is explained to me 
 by what our Lord said, " He that eateth my flesh 
 and drink eth my blood, dweileth in me and I in him ; " 
 and, " whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, 
 hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last 
 day;" and my soul can truly cry, u Thy fiesh is 
 
133 
 
 meat indeed, and thy blood is drmk indeed. " He was 
 also peculiarly delighted with the fourteenth chapter, 
 about our Lord's having gone before to prepare many 
 mansions for his people. And I remember while he 
 was talking on that subject, with what a rapture he 
 brought forward that text, u We know that if our 
 earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
 have a building of God, an house not made x with 
 hands, eternal in the heavens." Then he repeated 
 the first verse of a hymn I had frequently read to 
 him, and with which he was wonderfully delighted, 
 Loveg. What was the hymn, Mr. Henry ? 
 
 Henry. Jesus, thy blood and righteousness 
 
 My beauties are, my glorious dress ; t 
 
 'Midst flaming worlds, in these array'd, 
 With joy shall I lift up my head. 
 
 Then he repeated these words : 
 
 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 
 
 On thy kind arms I fall ; 
 Be thou my strength and righteousness, 
 
 My Jesus and my all. 
 
 Farmer. \To Henry. ~\ But I thought, my child, 
 you told me he was most delighted at that hymn our 
 minister put out, at the funeral of good old Edward 
 Heaven, the Taylor: yfh&t&.brave christian for sure 
 he was ! 
 
 When we behold the heavenly state, 
 The rest that doth thy saints await ! 
 What streams of comfort fill the soul, 
 What floods of bliss around us roll ! 
 
 Above the world by faith we rise, 
 And taste the joys above the skies ; 
 With angels feast, with angels join, 
 In hymns immortal and divine. 
 
 On wings of love still upward borne, 
 Downward we look with holy scorn ; 
 The pains and pleasures of this life, 
 Afford us neither joy nor grief. 
 
134 
 
 \The Farmer heskates~] — There, now, if I have 
 not fagot how it goes on! I am afraid I am too 
 near a-kinto the old man, Master Banyan calls Mr. 
 Forget- good. 
 
 Hani). I chink I can recollect them, father ; it is 
 amazing what e heave!) seemed to be upon Mr. Chip- 
 man's countenance whenever he repeated them. 
 
 While we enjoy this blissful sight, 
 With hearts o'erwhelm'd wirh sweet delight ; 
 We long to reach hat heav'nty shore, 
 And see this evil world no more. 
 
 O how we dread to sin again ! 
 'Tis sin alone that gives us pain t 
 We wish to melt in tears of- blood, 
 
 But what are all these tastes, of love, 
 To those we shall enjoy above ? 
 Just as a drop to all the sea ; 
 A moment to eternity ! 
 
 Wor* No wonder that he felt himself so delighted 
 with a hymn, so suitable to his state ; but did he con- 
 tinue in the same happy frame of mind till his death ? 
 
 Henry. Why, I once remember he sighed two or 
 three times, and seemed a little dejected. — I remind- 
 ed him of that text, " When the enemy cometh .in 
 like a flood, the spirit of the Lord lifteth up a 
 standard against him." He directly said, " Why 
 should I fear, God is love : he hath loved me, and 
 given himself for me. He'll never leave me; he'll 
 never forsake me." I can't recollect half the good 
 things he said, but I never shall forget the two last 
 visits Mr. Reader and I paid him on the last day of 
 his life. 
 
 Loveg. It is very confirming to hear of the tes- 
 timony of dying- believers in the Lord Jesus : as I 
 mean to make some improvement of this event from 
 the pulpit. I should 'be glad of further particulars. 
 
135 
 
 Henry. We were not a little surprised on the morn- 
 ing visit, at his first requesting Mr. Fribble should 
 be immediately sent for, and that lie might be de- 
 sired to come while we were there ; and according 
 to his wish, he was sent for directly. He then gave 
 me the reason for the request, in some such broken 
 language as this. . As an instrument in the hands of 
 God, how are we indebted to Mr. Lovegood for all 
 we know? " It is. the dying wish of my heart that 
 he may be invited to our town ; and I have no other 
 desire to speak to Mr. Fribble, than to beseech him 
 to lend the pulpit on that occasion to Mr. Lovegood ; 
 and I hope it will be no injury to my poor penitent 
 wife, and my dear child, if I leave him ten pounds 
 to pay the expences of the journey. Mr. Reader 
 not only approved the plan, but mentioned how 
 glad lie should be to receive him into his house as a 
 guest; adding, that till he had corresponded with 
 Mr. Lovegood, though he had so often read his 
 Bible as a school-master, he never understood it as a 
 Christian. 
 
 Farmer. How in the days of my ignorance did I 
 admire our Rector Mr. Dolittle, for two sermons he 
 used to preach against modern 'Thusists, and ashoxv 
 it was impossible for any one to understand the Bi- 
 ble, unless they had been at the Univarsity % but I 
 did not know that text in those days: "I 'thank 
 thee, O father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou 
 hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and 
 revealed them unto babes !" 
 
 IVor. Why, really Mr. Reader's remark was a 
 very excellent one, spiritual truths can only be 
 spiritually discerned: the Bible is a most delightful 
 and surprising book to those who are under the illu- 
 minating grace of the Gospel. 
 
 Henry. Oh, sir, the old gentleman has told me, 
 that he could scarcely attend to the younger class 
 
136 
 
 ef his scholars, through perpetual surprise how he 
 coukl be so ignorant with that bock of knowledge in 
 his hands. But before Mr. Fribble came, I read him 
 the twenty-third psalm, for I knew he wanted some- 
 thing short and sweet ; and how he was delighted 
 with that passage, " Yea, though I walk through 
 the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no 
 evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff 
 they comfort me!" Though he seemed for a time 
 quite revived, while he was mentioning that you, 
 sir, [to Mr. Lovegood.'~\ should be requested to visit 
 Locksbury, yet as after that he seemed quite languid, 
 I proposed that we should have a few words of pray- 
 er, and begged Mr. Reader would perform that of- 
 fice, at the request of his dying son-in-law ; and it 
 could scarcely be called prayer after all. 
 
 Lovcg. No wonder at his hesitation on that occa- 
 sion. 
 
 Henry, O, Sir, how the good old man stammered 
 and wept while he prayed ! and I remarked that al- 
 most every word he made use" of, was from his re- 
 collection of some Scripture expression; and his 
 feelings w 7 ere so strong, that he could scarcely utter 
 those words, which he adopted and converted into 
 the language of prayer, " Father, I will that they 
 whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, 
 that they may behold my glory," And after the 
 prayer was ended, I was astonished to hear how well 
 Mr. Chipman recollected that passage also; . " We 
 all, with open face, beholding, as in a glass, the 
 glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image 
 from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the 
 Lord;" and with what an ecstacy of joy he quoted 
 them. Just then, Mr. Fribble came in, saying, that 
 though he was willing to perform his duty accord- 
 ing to Mr. Chipman's request, and therefore came 
 directly as he was called ; yet as he was engaged to 
 
137 
 
 a card party, which he was obliged abruptly to 
 leave, he was rather in a hurry, Mr. Chlpman said, 
 that he did not send for him for his prayers ; but, 
 as a dying man, to request him, that the minister 
 who had done so much good to his once beloved, 
 but now unhappy wife, might have the use of his 
 pulpit to preach his funeral sermon ; as it was ac- 
 knowledged by all that their own parish was notori- 
 ously wicked. 
 
 Loveg. Did he acquiesce ? 
 
 Henry. Directly, sir, without 'the least hesitation, 
 for he hates preaching as much as you love it : and 
 again, he is under obligations to Mr. Reader, for , 
 he used to make almost all his sermons for him ; s 
 though he now begins to complain of them, as being 
 written in too strict a style for his congregation. 
 
 Loveg. Why, Mr. Reader, in one of his letters, 
 honestly told me, that he was in the habit of com- 
 posing and transcribing sermons for many of the 
 clergy about those parts ; and as the price of them 
 was five shillings each, it generally produced him an 
 income of between twenty and thirty pounds a year ; 
 for though Dr. Ti usler's loose copper-plate sermons 
 were considerably cheaper, yet Mr. Reader's were 
 much less likely to be detected :* : he wrote to me, 
 therefore, to, know how far I judged it to be a law- 
 ful occupation ; and without the least hesitation I 
 told him by all means to continue it; only to write 
 consistently with the plan of the Gospel ; as not only 
 
 * An egregious blunder of this sort once happened even in the famous 
 University of Cambridge, at what is commonly called the Sound Church : 
 the Dr. lias a notable sermon onjthese words, " See that ye fail not out by 
 the way." Arid so it fell out that it was preached by different ministers 
 three Sundays running. The clerk on the fourth Sunday admonished the 
 preacher not to give them a fourth edition of " See that ye fall nor out by 
 the way," for that the parish was all very "peace able. The reply was, that 
 he had no other in his poc* et, sc that the people must have that or none. - 
 The Reader would not dispu e the probability of this anecdote if he knew 
 after what sore of a fashion the churches in and about the neighhour- 
 hood of the universities are unfortunately -served. ■•« \ 
 
 Vol. II. ' N 
 
138 
 
 the clergy themselves, but many of their hearers* 
 might hear those truths thereby, which they proba- 
 bly might not meet with, should he discontinue his 
 occupation — * 
 
 Wor. Of sermon-maker-general, I suppose we 
 may call it, to the learned clergy in those parts. But 
 what a strange jumble this .must make among them 
 all, if they still continue their old sermons, and the 
 sermons Mr. Reader will compose, since his mind has 
 been so much better instructed in the knowledge of 
 his Bible. 
 
 Farmer. To my mind, the parsons in the pulpits 
 will be like the weathercoks on the steeples, Sun- 
 day after Sunday, and the people won't know which 
 way the wind is to blow next. But I am afraid, at 
 this rate, Mr. Reader will soon lose his custom. 
 
 Henry. Why, father, I believe he has lost some of 
 his custom already ; but after all this, I thought Mr. 
 Lovegood's preaching at Locksbury would have been 
 quite knocked aside. 
 
 Wor. How so, Mr. Henry ? 
 
 Henry. Why, sir, Mr. Fribble continued to ask 
 Mr. Chipman, " if he wished him to say prayers to 
 him ?" To which I replied, " Through the Divine 
 blessing, we have been at prayers already ;" and I 
 had the impudence to say, that the ladies would be 
 disappointed of his company at cards, if we detained 
 him to say his prayers. And when Mr. Chipman 
 said, " That to hear another say prayers was no ob- 
 ject to him, since his poor vile heart had been taught 
 " to pray with ali prayer and supplication in the 
 Spirit" But, alas! this language was quite out of 
 the depth of Mr. Fribbled knowledge ; and he im- 
 mediately said, that tie perceived, Mr. Chipman's 
 mind quite rambled, for that he had never heard of 
 such a distinction before, between praying and say- 
 ing of prayers ; but that if his mind was better on the 
 
morrow, and if he then wished to see him, he would 
 call, and say prayers to him with all his heart. 
 
 JLoveg. What a terrible calamity when such paltry 
 things are entrusted with the care of immortal souls ! 
 
 Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.~\ I hope, sir, you will 
 esteem this a call in Providence, to pay a \dsit to 
 Locksbury ; though, for ourselves, we shall be sorry 
 for your absence. 
 
 JLoveg. If I could get my church well served dur- 
 ing my absence, as this seems a providential call, I 
 should esteem it my duty to obey ; but I shall be 
 able to determine better after I have heard the con- 
 clusion of Mr. Henry's story. 
 
 Henry. Why, sir, soon after this visit we went 
 home to attend on the school, for I was quite Mr, 
 Reader's usher, and in the evening, about six o'clock, 
 we were sent for in great haste, with the information 
 that Mr. Chipman was dying. Immediately we both 
 went, and found him in the agonies of death. He 
 seemed at first to take but little notice of us, as his 
 eyes were in a measure fixed, but we could hear him 
 distinctly say, "Lord, let me now depart in peace, 
 for mine eyes have seen thy salvation !" then added 
 several times, " Precious salvation, precious salva- 
 tion ; O ! precious salvation." And then [to Farmer 
 Littletvorth~\ father, y u know how I told you he took 
 hold of my hand, and uttered these words, "Our 
 light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work 
 out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
 of glory." And how much affected Mr. Reader was 
 after he saw that he was dead. 
 
 Wor. Well, well ; the race was but short, though 
 the result was glorious. But how must we break 
 these matters to the poor widow ? Though I hope 
 she will feel the less concerning her husband's death, 
 as she has for some time given up all hopes of his 
 recoverv. 
 
140 
 
 _ Loveg. Indeed, sir, I still fear she will feel exces- 
 sively, as it was evidently through her misconduct 
 that her husband was brought to the grave. 
 
 Wor. As Mrs. Chipman must be informed of the 
 event, I know not what we can do 'better than that 
 you, Mr. Lovegood, and Mr. Henry Littleworth, 
 should call upon her, and attempt to Soften matters, 
 by telling her the happy state of Mr. Chipman's mind 
 previous to his death. 
 
 Loveg. I know of no other plan that can be adopt- 
 ed. But I'll write her a few lines this evening pre- 
 paring her mind for the result, and to-morrow morn- 
 ing Mr. Henry will call upon her, though I really 
 fear what will be the consequence, from the present 
 state of her mind. 
 
 Wor. \ToMr. Lovegood.~\ I have a great inclina- 
 tion to desire my eldest daughter to attend you; 
 if she should join hands with Mr. Merryman, she 
 will be frequently called on for such visits. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, this would be a desirable event, not 
 only as Miss Worthy is so truly serious ; but as it 
 will be a sort of evidence, how much you pity and 
 feel for the poor afflicted widow. 
 
 [Thus matters were settled — The parties met ac- 
 cordingly, but from the distant hint dropt in Mr. 
 Lovegood's note, the first salutation was, " Oh ! he 
 is dead, he is dead! I am sure he is dead !" while 
 she cried and sobbed inexpressibly ; exclaiming a- 
 gainst herself as the vilest of prostitutes, and as hav- 
 ing murdered the best of husbands. Every attempt 
 to soften her grief from the narration of the blessed 
 effects produced both on her husband and her father, 
 though through her misconduct, was of no avail. Her 
 nights were sleepless, and her days were spent in dis- 
 tracted grief, till a total derangement took place. 
 Under that disease she was racked with the idea 
 that Sir Charles Dash was coming again, to demand 
 
141 
 
 her as his prostitute ; while with screams and exe- 
 crations, she would mention her utter abhorrence 
 of the man. Then she would suppose that she was 
 forced by a thousand infernal spirits to go, that she 
 might be tormented with the damned, together with 
 that monster of iniquity. Then her distracted mind 
 would depict before her, the spectre of her reverend 
 and aged father, beholding her with the frown of 
 indignant detestation and abhorrence, as being the 
 most unnatural monster that ever existed. Then the 
 poor child was next on her imagination, she was sure 
 he was starved to death ; crying out against herself, 
 that she was worse than a tiger, for tigers loved their 
 young. As to her husband, his murdered, emacia- 
 ted apparition continually haunted her; and she fan- 
 cied that all the people at Locksbury hissed at her,, 
 and cursed her whenever they -saw her. 
 
 In this deranged state, she would make such 
 speeches to these different characters, ,as were truly 
 surprising, though highly romantic ; sometimes she 
 would speak profanely ; but ill general, piously and 
 penitently in a high degree. 
 
 In this state of mind Mrs. Chipman continued for 
 six weeks, when afterwards, throqgh divine mercy, 
 being restored ; she appeared like that object of our 
 Lord's mercy, out of which the legion of devils were 
 ■cast, " Sitting at Jesus's feet, clothed, and in his 
 right mind. " 
 
 -From -this circumstance, the reader will naturally 
 conclude, that as yet he cannot hear the termination 
 of her history, which in due time will be brought 
 forward. 
 
 During that interval, a continuation of the narra- 
 tion, as it respects the Love3ys ? together wi*h some- 
 other events, intewoven. with the subject, ^ bf,T I 
 trust, not unacceptable to the reader."] 
 
 M .2 
 
142 
 DIALOGUE XXIV 
 
 BETWEEN THE LOVELYS, THE WORTHYS,MR. 
 LOVEGOOD, AND MR. CONSIDERATE. 
 
 6N THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION, AND ON DR. OR- 
 
 AFTER the Lovelys had continued above a week 
 at Mr. Menyman's they returned to Brookfield- 
 Hall, and were again received with the accustomed 
 hospitality of the house. It is with some regret, that, 
 for the sake of brevity, the conversation of Mr. 
 Merryman, Dr. Orderly, and the Lovelys, while at 
 Sandover, must be omitted ; though from a certain 
 congeniality of mind subsisting between Mr. Lovely 
 and Mr. Merryman, it might have proved entertain- 
 ing and good. The substance, however, of what 
 then passed, will be found in the conversation which 
 took place at Brookfieid-Hall on the return of the 
 Lovelys from Sandover. 
 
 On the next evening they retired to the menagery 
 for their tea, where a variety of the feathered tribe 
 came around them, giving a sweet resemblance of 
 the fearless state of creation, before the human race 
 themselves, with other creatures, became ferocious, 
 by the fall. Mr. Lovegood, and the family of the 
 Considerates, from Mapleton, were also of the 
 party. 
 
 JVor. \ToMr. Lovely, .] lam very happy, Sir, to 
 see Mrs. Lovely look so much better, and that she 
 appears so cheerful after her excursion to Sandover. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, it is impossible to be otherwise than 
 happy with Mr. Merry man; he is to be sure a most 
 
143 
 
 pleasant and engaging creature : and he is almost 
 adored among his neighbour,, though he tells us he 
 was very vicious, \_To Mr. Lovegood."] till after he 
 was reformed by your preaching, sir. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, had it been merely by my preach- 
 ing, others who heard the same, might have been 
 reformed m well as Mr. Merry man: but a work of 
 that sort couid never have been accomplished, had 
 even Paul planted, and Apoilos watered, unless God 
 had given the increase." 
 
 Lovely. Yes, sir ; but I suppose there must have 
 been within him some of the native powers of inherent 
 virtue, which were in a measure buried by depraved 
 habits and bad examples, and which were afterwards 
 excited in him by your zealous preaching ; whereby 
 through the grace of God, in conjunction with his good 
 resolutions, he was enabled to reform. 
 
 Loveg, Surely, sir, you have not imported these 
 strange, dark, mixed, notions of human goodness and 
 Divine Grace from Sandover. 
 
 Lovely. Oh, no sir, but Mr. Merryman, (and I 
 greatly admire his liberal and candid disposition,) 
 when I told him that I and my wife should like to 
 have an interview with Dr. Orderly, gave us a letter 
 of recommendation to him : and I'll assure you, sir, 
 we met with very different treatment from the doctor r 
 from what I received from Mr. Dolktle. 
 
 Loveg. O, sir, the Doctor is a most excellent cha- 
 racter ; there are few like him in the present day. It 
 seems some years ago, there were many others of 
 the same family scattered up and down the country, 
 but there has been a sad mortality among them ; and 
 the present generation is very thin. 
 
 Wor. Were not Mr. Regular, and Mr. Decent, 
 and old Dr. Decorum of the some family ? 
 
 Lovely. Yes, sir, I have heard the Doctor mention 
 the names of those divines ; but hfi says that too many 
 
144 
 
 6f the present generation who have succeeded them, 
 though they are very anxious to keep up the family 
 names, are but a spurious breed, and not worthy to 
 be compared to the former. Now, sir, I hope you 
 cannot be surprised that I should be influenced by the 
 religion of so good a man. I think you are going 
 too tar one way, and I was going too much the other : 
 and the good Doctor has told me of a middle way, 
 and I seem to like that best. 
 
 Wor. Ah ! sir, I travelled that middle way once, 
 till I found it no way at all. In short, when I was 
 in it I was bewildered as in a labyrinth, and I thought 
 I should never have got out of it. 
 
 Lovely. Really, sir, I think the Doctor intermixed 
 faith and works together in a very judicious manner. 
 
 Loveg. I am afraid while the Doctor was making 
 aip his mixture, he sadly contradicted the language of 
 St. Paul : " If by grace, then it is no more of works; 
 otherwise grace is no more grace: but if it be of 
 works, then it is no more grace ; otherwise work is 
 no more work." So that it should appear, as though 
 the Apostle was not quite so fond of mixtures as the 
 Doctor. 
 
 Lovely. But, sir, before you find fault with the 
 Doctor's notions give me leave to state them to the 
 best of my recollection. .Now I remember he said, 
 that God had made two covenants with man, the co- 
 venant of w r orks and the covenant of grace ; that 
 man bv the fall broke the covenant of works ; that 
 .afterwards God entered into another covenant with 
 man, called the covenant of grace : now I think, sir, 
 xis far as this, the Doctor agrees with you and Mr. 
 Merry man, 
 
 Loveg. Not altogether, sir, if the Doctor supposes 
 God entered into covenant with man in his fallen 
 estate. It never can be admitted, that ;God, the eter- 
 !mISGvereign ? -could eater iftto such a -covenant with 
 
145 
 
 t 
 
 a set of rebels. The covenant was not made between 
 God and fallen man, but between God the Father, 
 and God the Son, even the man Christ Jesus, who 
 became the substitute for our sinful race ; or, to give 
 it you directly in Bible language, he became "'the 
 Surety of a better testament," or, " the Mediator 
 ■of a better covenant, established upon better pro- 
 mises." Thus " he suffered the just for the unjust, 
 that he might bring us to God." 
 
 Lovely. But, sir, were there not certain terms and 
 conditions required of man, whereby he might qua- 
 lify himself for the merits of our Saviour ! And — 
 [Lovegood interrupts.'] 
 
 Loveg. Before you proceed any further, I beg to 
 ask, which will require most, — To qualify ourselves 
 
 r heaven, or for Christ? 
 
 Lovely. Really, sir, this is a new question to me ; 
 
 1 wish you to explain yourself. 
 
 Loveg. Which is of greater importance, the man 
 who builds the house, or the house itself? I suppose 
 you immediately answer, the man who builds the 
 house. If so, without qualifying ourselves for the 
 merits of Christ, we can as well qualify ourselves 
 for heaven itself, and this will put Christ and his 
 great salvation completely out of the question ; for 
 if we can merit the greater we can certainly merit 
 the less. 
 
 Lovely. But, sir, the worthy Doctor as much dis- 
 claims the term merit as yourself; he gave me one 
 of his sermons to read, which he composed on pur- 
 pose, against the merit of works. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir, and 1 am persuaded the worthy 
 Doctor has too much humility and goodness to ad- 
 mit the conclusion, which must necessarily be drawn 
 from his mistaken notions of conditional justifica- 
 tion. But if on certain terms and conditions I per- 
 form the task proposed for the sake of a reward, how- 
 
146 
 
 ever low those terms may be, I then can claim what 
 the promiser has no longer a right to deny. And 
 this brings matters as near to the point of merit as 
 one point can be brought to another; and whiie the 
 Doctor has too much decided humility to admit the 
 conclusion of his own doctrine, yet thousands and 
 tens of thousands, by the same doctrine, have fallen 
 into the like snare ; and the merit of righteousness 
 is the common claim of all, even very frequently 
 of the most unrighteous, throughout all the world. 
 
 Lovely. I wish the Doctor were here to answer for 
 hims 
 
 se 
 
 14* 
 
 Wor. I wish he were ; for we all respect him very 
 highly. 
 
 Consid. I am sure I do, — though I never saw 
 him but once or twice, as he passed by our house 
 in Mapleton ; yet he wrote me such a kind and 
 tender letter on behalf of a poor woman who was a 
 parishioner with us, requesting me that 1 would in- 
 terest myself with the corpora don to put her into 
 one of our alms houses ; and niter I had succeeded, 
 the poor woman told me what a many shillings and 
 half-crowns the Doctor had given her, so that I have 
 loved him ever since. 
 
 Lovely. Then allow me to plead a little further 
 for the Doctor's religion, since you all acknowledge 
 he is so good a man. He does not say that we can 
 merit heaven, as I have before observed ; but that 
 faith and repentance are only the mild and moderate 
 terms required by the new law of the gospel, where- 
 by we, through grace, avail ourselves of the merits 
 of Christ, provided we properly perform them. 
 
 Iaoveg. I believe, sir, you will discover that the 
 mixture you are now attempting, will be found 
 equally as difficult, as a mixture between oil and 
 water. For first, I beg leave to ask, can the Bible 
 give us the character of a more exalted Christian, 
 
UT * 
 
 than what is comprehended in that of a penitent 
 believer ? Is not this the character of the real peni- 
 tent, that he hates all sin, and renounces it? And 
 who is the believer ? Why, one who lives in holy 
 friendship with God, through the redemption that 
 is in Christ, and consequently pants to be dedicated 
 to his glory. Is then a man, who thus repents and 
 believes, a good man, and in a state of salvation, or 
 a bad man and in a state of condemnation ? 
 
 Lovely. O, sir, penitent believers are certainly in 
 a state of salvation. 
 
 Loveg. Then how can faith and repentance be 
 the conditions of our salvation, when all that have 
 these graces are saved already ? 
 
 Lovely. Is it not possible for a person to have these 
 graces in order to his salvation ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, it is utterly impossible, unless you 
 turn all things up- side down ; and unless you can 
 make the effect produce the cause. Now these graces 
 are the effect of our salvation, they cannot therefore 
 be the cause of it ; any more than motion, which is 
 the effect of life, can be said to be the cause why w r e 
 live or move : and so Bishop Beveridge settles the 
 matter : " How can I do good works in order to my 
 justification, when I can do no good works till after I 
 am justified ?" To make out all these strange contra- 
 dictory suppositions, we must conclude that a man 
 must have grace and yet no grace ; and that he must 
 be a believer and an unbeliever at the same time. 
 " For he that believeth hath everlasting life. While 
 he alone, that believeth not, is condemned already, 
 and the wrath of God abideth on him." Suppose a 
 physician should say, " I'll come and heal you on 
 this condition, provided you first heal yourself." — 
 Now Christ is the physician of souls, and penitent 
 believers are actually and completely healed : and 
 if faith and repentance were the terms and con- 
 
148 
 
 ditions on their parts, they first heal themselves, 
 and then come to Christ to lie healed. And if this* 
 doctrine be true, the need of salvation bv Christ is 
 entirely put out of the question. [Mr. Lovely he- 
 skates exceedingly.'] 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Mlj dear George, I am sorry to see 
 you so perplexed for an answer : but you cannot tell 
 what I felt while the Doctor was explaining what 
 you and I were to do, that we might obtain the mer- 
 cies of our Saviour. I .nought if that doctrine were 
 consistent with the Bible, I had a task before me 
 which, independent of the grace of God, I should 
 never be abie to perform. But then I thought of 
 these words in our Common Prayer Book : " Because 
 through the weakness of cur mortal nature we can 
 do no good thing without thee, grant us the help of 
 thy grace, that in keeping thy commandments we 
 may please thee. 55 [Lovely still continues silent. ~\ 
 
 Loveg. But, sir, with 3 our leave, I have some 
 other questions to ask. What are your pews con- 
 cerning human depravity? 
 
 Lovely. Oh, sir, from the general bent of the ha- 
 bits and inclinations of mankind, we are certainly 
 very depraved. 
 
 Loveg. Dear sir, allow me to press the point a 
 little further. Do you conceive that we are totally, 
 or only partially depraved ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, it evidently appears that some men 
 are naturally less vicious than others. 
 
 Loveg. Then allow nfe next to ask, how are we to 
 make out these queries, ." Who maketh thee to 
 differ?" and again, " What is there which thou hast 
 not received?" andjif received, " tVhy ytt boa^test 
 thou ?" for the same apostie says, " By die grace of 
 God I am what I am;" and yet you have attempted, 
 to make it out, that there is something in man, that 
 fallen creature, which makes the diiieience. Dear 
 
149 
 
 sir, what are we to think of ourselves when we pre- 
 tend to goby the Bible, and yet so grossly contradict it. 
 
 Lovely. Why, sir, I am quite astonished that you 
 should controvert the point, that it is divine grace 
 w r orking with our good desires. 
 
 Loveg. But from whence are we to get those good 
 desires but from divine grace ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, Dr. Orderly supposes there is uni- 
 versal grace given to all, and that they who improve 
 it will entitle themselves to the merits of our Savi- 
 our ; and that others, who reject this universal grace, 
 will be punished for their unbelief. 
 
 Loveg. Then you admit that mankind are not 
 totally, but partially fallen; and, according to this 
 principle, the less corrupted will accept this univer- 
 sal grace, and the more corrupted will reject it ; and 
 then another of the apostle's queries is at an end. 
 " Where is boasting then? it is excluded. By 
 what law ? Of works, nay, but by the law of faith. 5 ' 
 For according to your doctrine, dear sir, the law of 
 works must be the first turning hinge of our salvation : 
 for all depends upon how we will and what we do, 
 before the grace of God can have any efficacy upon 
 the heart : so that the salvation of a single soul is a 
 matter of mere chance, as it rests entirely on the crea- 
 ture's will ; and the sovereignty and fore- knowledge 
 of God are totally at an end. Sir, this is strange doc- 
 trine. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I confess it is not in my power to follow 
 you through such a labyrinth of abstruse arguments ; 
 I have not accustomed myself to such metaphysical 
 descriptions. But as you are so fond of quoting 
 Scripture, I think I can venture to meet you on that 
 ground. I remember the Doctor observed to me that 
 there was a little word of great importance, which 
 stood wonderfully in the way of your notions in re- 
 ligion, the word was if. And I recollect he brought 
 
 Vol. II. O 
 
150 
 
 forward these words — " If thou canst believe, all 
 these things are possible to him that belie veth :" and 
 " If ye beiieve not that I am he, ye shall die in your 
 sins: 5? and then again, sir, about repentance, is it 
 not said, " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise 
 perish?" In short, sir, are not faith and repentance 
 universally set forth as the terms whereby we are ac- 
 cepted ? and were not all the promises given to the 
 Jews continually upon the terms of their obedience ? 
 Loveg. Indeed, sir, while you have already con- 
 fessed that every penitent believer is a good man, 
 I cannot see, as I have before observed, how he can 
 be a good man and a bad man at the same time. But 
 there are Ifs of very different significations ; the 
 conditional z/*and the descriptive if: while the vaunt- 
 ing conditional ifccxxx demand payment for what has 
 been performed; the humble descriptive //"describes 
 the character of the good man, but gives God the" 
 glory. It is, therefore, very true, sir, ifwt repent, 
 i/we believe, z/Ve love God, if we are of a forgiving 
 temper, if we have pure hearts and clean hands ; in 
 short, if we be found in all holy obedience to the 
 laws of God, we may assuredly expect to be received 
 into glory : though I think, sir, after you have 
 read the Bible a little more attentively, you will 
 discover that what you now suppose to be conditions, 
 which are to be performed by us, are rather to be 
 looked upon as mere gifts or graces bestowed by 
 the hand of divine mercy upon us ; and if these 
 good things be gifts on his part, they no longer can 
 be called conditions on our part. 
 
 Lovely. Why, sir, are we not commanded to do 
 all these things ; and does it not rest with us to do 
 them, or not to do them, according to our own 
 choice ? 
 
 Consid. Sir, I heard Mr. Lovegood say not long 
 ago, that " if we, through the corruption of our 
 
151 
 
 own hearts, had lost all will and inclination to obey, 
 God could never lose, nor renounce, his right to com- 
 mand." The law is, and must be, eternal in its 
 demands, notwithstanding the corruptions of human 
 nature ; yea, and that the " law was even added be- 
 cause of transgression," 
 
 Lovely. But surely, sir, we have yet further 
 proof from the Bible itself of God's respect to man's 
 goodness, in order to his being justified by the 
 merits of our Saviour. I remember what an excel- 
 lent use the Doctor made of the account of Corne- 
 lius's conversion; how, that before ever he was 
 a believer, he was " a devout man, and one that 
 feared God with all his house;" that, " he gave much 
 alms to the people, and prayed to God always." 
 And observe, sir, that it is said " his alms are come 
 up for a memorial before God;" and that " his 
 alms were had in remembrance in the sight of God." 
 Nay, further, sir, it is actually said, that, "in every 
 nation he that feareth God and worketh righteous- 
 ness is accepted of him." 
 
 jLoveg. But, sir, even the chapter you refer to, gives 
 up the point for which you unhappily contend. Was 
 it not found necessary that Peter should be instructed 
 by an immediate revelation, to tell even this good 
 Cornelius " words whereby he and all his house 
 should be saved?" and he went accordingly, " preach- 
 ing peace by Jesus Christ," and not by Cornelius's 
 righteousness ; testifying at the same time that u to 
 him g*ce all the prophets witness, that through his 
 name whosoever believeth on him shall receive re- 
 mission of sins. " It is a pity, dear sir, that you should 
 make one end of the same story contradict the other ; 
 let it only be acknowledged, that all the good things 
 he possessed, and good things they certainly were, 
 yet all the gifts of divine grace previous to a still 
 further manifestation of that pardon and mercy we 
 
152 
 
 all need and receive through Christ alone ; and mat- 
 ters are at once settled between us ! The invariable 
 rule we should at all times go by, in the interpreta- 
 tion of the Scriptures, is to make them speak consis- 
 tently with themselves. Do you, therefore, think you 
 have proved your point against other express declara- 
 tions of Scripture, that "by the deeds of the law 
 shall no flesh living be justified ;" that " the righte- 
 ousness of God without the law is manifested;" that 
 a man is not justified by the works of the law, but 
 by the faith of Jesus Christ ; while the apostle fur- 
 ther gives this reason why Israel had not attained to 
 the law of righteousness, " because they sought it 
 not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law ;'" 
 and again, " they being ignorant of God's righte- 
 ousness, and going about to establish their own 
 righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto 
 the righteousness of God, for Christ is the end of the 
 law 7 for righteousness, unto every one that belie veth." 
 
 Lovely. Dear sir, I again remark, you seem quite 
 to misunderstand me. Our good works are not to be 
 esteemed as the meritorious cause of our salvation, 
 but only the conditional cause. Is it not said, " Ask, 
 and ye shall have ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, 
 and it shall be opened unto you ?" And was it not 
 proposed, even to that wicked man, Simon Magus, 
 that he should pray that the wickedness of his heart 
 might be forgiven? and were not all these condi- 
 tions ? 
 
 Loveg. I wish I did misunderstand you, sir ; but 
 if works are to be in any wise the cause, and especi- 
 ally, as you seem to represent them, tht first moving 
 cause, whereby wejirst move God himself to shew us 
 his mercy ; the second covenant which you have ad- 
 mitted to'be the covenant of grace, is quite as much 
 the covenant of works as the former ; and then what 
 Saint Paul said about being " found in Christ, not 
 
153 
 
 having on his own righteousness, which is of the law, 
 but that which is through the faith of Christ, the 
 righteousness which is of God, by faith, 55 is put quite 
 out of the question. 
 
 Lovely. Really, sir, I confess you puzzle me : 
 though I still think, if I were better read in the 
 Scriptures, I could confute you. 
 
 Loveg. Would you, then, attempt a further dis- 
 cussion on this point, by bringing forward the histo- 
 ries of the Publican, Zaccheus, the thief on the cross, 
 and the Philippian jailor, who was converted by the 
 power of the Gospel, the moment when he was go- 
 ing to commit an act of suicide. What were the 
 conditions of good they performed in order to their 
 salvation ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, might it not still be true, that divine 
 grace met with some latent good? 
 
 Loveg. An observation of that sort has passed us 
 already : but, it has been answered by St. Paul, 
 " Inme, that is, in my flesh, dwelleth no good thing." 
 And the apostle's own experience is still more to the 
 point than any of the former. He was " a persecutor, 
 injurious,' 5 — " exceeding mad against the believers in 
 Christ;" he w T as not only " a blasphemer" himself, 
 but " compelled others to blaspheme also ;" he 
 " persecuted them even unto strange cities*" and 
 wherever he could meet with them it w r as his glory 
 " to put them to death ;" such was his conduct to-, 
 wards Stephen ; for we are told, that " he consented 
 to his death, and that he made havock of the church, 
 ente iag into every house, and haling men and wo- 
 men, committed them to prison." Yes, and while he 
 was " breathing out threatening and slausrhteV 
 against the disciples of the Lord," .having availed 
 himself of a commission from the chiei' priest, that 
 he might bring all he could meet with, " either 
 men or women, bound to Jerusalem ;" it was even 
 
 O 2 
 
at the very moment, when he was determined upon 
 the practice of his most bloody designs, that divine 
 mercy met with him and saved him. I have heard, 
 indeed, of some who could find out an argument 
 even from this, to prop up the cause of their con- 
 ditional salvation because Paul did this " ignorant- 
 ly and in unbelief:" here then matters turn right 
 about, and ignorance and unbelief 'are the terms of sal- 
 vation. At one time it is only faith and repentance, 
 then good works at large, glossed over by the 
 term u evangelical obedience/' Paul, however, gives 
 another reason, widely different from any of the 
 former: " For this cause I obtained mercy, that 
 in me first, (or as it more correctly means, the chief) 
 of sinners, Jesus Christ might shew T forth all long- 
 suffering for a pattern to them that should believe on 
 him to life everlasting. 5 ' 
 
 Lovely, Sir, I feel I am not sufficiently acquainted 
 with these points to argue with you as I could wish, 
 but I don't think we differ so much as once we did. 
 
 Loveg. Dear sir, matters are at once brought to the 
 point we both wish, if we can but admit, according 
 to the doctrine of St. James, (who is oftentimes put 
 in direct opposition to St. Paul,) that " every good 
 and perfect gift is. from above, and cometh down 
 from the Father of Lights, with whom is no vari- 
 ableness, neither shadow of turning." Consequent- 
 ly, what you call conditions required of us, I call 
 gifts bestowed by him. Repentance is his gift, 
 " Christ is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give 
 repentance." Faith is said " not to be of ourselves, 
 but the gift of God, and of the operation of God." 
 And when you talk of the conditional covenant 
 binder the Old Testament dispensation, should you 
 not rather think of another covenant made with 
 man in the person of Christ, settled " upon surer 
 promises, aad fixed upon a firmer foundation?" 
 
155 
 
 And in order to decide the controversy, let us make 
 an immediate reference to the word of God. " But 
 now hath he obtained a more excellent ministry, 
 by how much also he is the mediator of a better 
 covenant, which was established upon better pro- 
 mises. For if that first covenant had been fault- 
 less, then should no place have been sought for the 
 second : For finding fault with them, he saith, Be- 
 hold, the days come, saith the Lord, when I will 
 make a new covenant with the house of Israel and 
 with the house of Judah ; not according to the co- 
 venant that I made with their fathers in the day when 
 I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land 
 of Egypt ; because they continued not in my cove- 
 nant, and I regarded them not, saith the Lord ; for 
 this is the covenant that I will make with the house 
 of Israel after those days, saith the Lord : I will put 
 my law r s into their mind, and write them in their 
 hearts : and I will be to them a God, and they shall 
 be to me a people : and they shall not teach every 
 man his neighbour, and every man his brother, 
 saying, Know the Lord ; for all shall know me from 
 the least to the greatest. For I will be merciful to 
 their unrighteousness, and their sins and their ini- 
 quities will I remember no more. In that he saith, 
 a new covenant^ he hath made the first old, now T that 
 which decayeth and waxeth old is ready to vanish 
 away." Heb. viii. 6 — 13. 
 
 Cemid. Sir, I am afraid, that all your mistakes 
 arise from a denial of the total depravity of the hu- 
 man race. I just argued as you now do, till I was 
 convinced, " that in me, that is in my flesh, there 
 dwelleth no good thing." I was very unwilling 
 to submit to the awful truth, that God, since the 
 fall, had totally withdrawn himself from man : and 
 that, consequently, " every imagination of the 
 thoughts of his heart is only evil (and that also) 
 
156 
 
 continually;" so that as there is no good in man, 
 no good can come from man, but as implanted 
 there by divine grace ; but when I thought myself 
 to be only in this half-way fallen state, I was very 
 contented with the same sort of half- way salvation, 
 which the worthy Doctor has so zealously recom- 
 mended to you. 
 
 Lovely. Really, sir, your notions appear very 
 gloomy : though Ave are greatly depraved, yet, does 
 the law make no allowance for us in our lapsed state ? 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Now, my dear, I suppose you are 
 thinking of what the Doctor called his milder law, 
 which is lowered down to be made mere suitable 
 to us in our corrupted state ; and that God would 
 now accept a sincere instead of a perfect obedience ; 
 and that, therefore, he would put up with " the inno- 
 cent infirmities, incident to flesh and blood."* 
 
 Lcveg. Why, madam, was it possible the good 
 Doctor could make use of such expressions ? They 
 had better suited the lips of a downright Antino- 
 mian. Could he suppose, that an infinitely holy 
 God could retract the law given, and so strongly 
 confirmed also, even under the New Testament dis- 
 pensation, to " love him with all our hearts;" or, 
 as it is expressed, " with aperfect heart ;" and thus 
 flatly contradict his own word ? Did you not mis- 
 take the Doctor, madam ? 
 
 * This filthy antinomian expression I well remember to have contro- 
 verted many years ago, as I found it in one of the late Mr. Fletcher's 
 checks to antincmianism ; the great advocate, (to say the best) of the 
 double-reiined semi-pelagianism of the day : so inconsistent are these 
 writers with themselves. This old heresy, (whose proper nest is popery,) 
 has been revived in modern days under the name of arminianism, and 
 the reader is requested to weigh the subject, whether their antinomianism 
 be not a thousand times worse than what they wamcnly charge on others. 
 I ask, whatever good may be found among individuals, yet what have 
 these modern prevailing notions in general produced throughout all 
 Christendom ? A system of infidelity has polluted the understandings 
 and therefore it is no wonder, when they talk of the fruits of righteous- 
 ness, that their fruits are found to be as the apples of Sodom. 
 
157 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. I really so understood him, sir. 
 
 Loveg. Why, then you must have understood 
 him that this milder law can be nothing better than 
 a mere nose of wax ; that every one is to obey as 
 well as he can, provided he does it sincerely. And, 
 that though I do not love God with all my hearty 
 yet I still love him, though partially, yet sincerely. 
 Suppose the thief should say, though I am but 
 partially honest, yet I am sincerely so ; and another 
 should add, though I am but partially chaste, yet 
 I am sincerely so ; while all of them might say, all 
 circumstances being taken into consideration, I 
 could not be otherwise, for I did as well as I could. 
 And, again, as God has made a new law to put up 
 with such innocent infirmities, they are no longer 
 transgressions, because they are not only not forbid- 
 den, but are even become allowable, according to 
 the terms of this new law. Now " where there is 
 no law there is no transgression : 5 ' therefore we are 
 to believe, that it is now revealed from God himself, 
 that the law is only partial, and not perfect ; and a 
 partial law allows a partial transgression, provided I 
 transgress sincerely ; and, consequently, I give per-, 
 feet obedience by an imperfect obedience, because 
 imperfect obedience alone is required ; and, there- 
 fore, if I love God, and pray to him, and believe in 
 him very imperfectly, yet if I do it as sincerely as 
 1 can, God will overlook all the rest. 
 
 But let us undress these terms a little further, 
 that we may more fully detect their loose Antino- 
 mian ambiguity. What is imperfect must have in 
 it, in a moral point of view, the sin of omission or of 
 commission ; so that what some call an imperfect 
 action, I'll venture to call an unrighteous one. And 
 then I can claim the highest reward that can be de- 
 manded, as we have before observed, even by Christ 
 himself, for my unrighteous obedience : and as " all 
 
158 
 
 unrighteousness is sin," by my sinful obedience. — 
 Sinful obedience ! Sir, did you ever hear such con- 
 tradiction in terms before ? To dream of salvation 
 by such a law, must be a dream indeed; and, after 
 aft, Is it a law ? What does it define ? Can we con- 
 ceive a looser guide ? We must obey as well as we 
 can, and the conclusion is dreadful. Faicwel Christ 
 and his Gospel ; for if I obey this new imperfect 
 law, while the old perfect law is abolished thereby, 
 there is no doubt but that I may be justilied by it, 
 and then the apostle's conclusion is at an end : " If 
 there had been a law given which could have given 
 life, verily righteousness should have been by that 
 law." 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I wish I was sufficiently master of 
 the subject, as Dr. Orderly seems to be ; but I re- 
 member well what an admirable use he made of our 
 Lord's sermon on the Mount, that it was all on moral 
 duties, but 
 
 Loveg. {interrupts ] Not on moral duties, dear 
 sir, but on those highly spiritual principles belong- 
 ing to the real followers of Christ, as far different 
 from the morality of the mere man of the world as 
 heaven is above the earth. The morality (if it must 
 be so called) of that sermon amounts to this, that 
 the real Christian is mortified to every vile passion 
 and most completely devoted to God. 
 
 Lovely. Yes, sir, I remember the Doctor admitted 
 what you say ; but then he observed how strongly 
 our Saviour urged those words, "Not every one 
 that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeththe will of my 
 father which is m heaven." And that k is not only 
 hearing our Lord's words but doing them that en- 
 titles us to the character of the Christian. 1 know 
 
 not how to give up conditions. 
 
 Loveg. Dear sir, lias not all this been answered 
 
15'9 
 
 before f While the fruits of righteousness describe 
 the Christian, is this to pass for proof that these are 
 the conditions of his Christianity ? But it is a pity 
 the Doctor had not taken the whole of our Lord's 
 sermon on the Mount, out of which you quoted that 
 passage, into more close consideration ; he would not 
 have found any thing of his mild, lax, new r law r in 
 these chapters, allowing a little sin, though in the 
 very nature of things unallowable ; only because in 
 our corrupted state we have an inclination to prac- 
 tise it. Had he examined his new law by that ser- 
 mon, he would have found the anger of the heart, 
 the impurity of the heart, the covetousness of the 
 heart, bring us as much under the sentence of con- 
 demnation by that law which commands us to be 
 pure in heart, that we may see God, as if we had 
 actually transgressed. So that after all, this reme- 
 dial law is nothing more than the old heresy of the 
 Scribes and Pharisees newly revived ; and it is aw- 
 fully said, " Whosoever shall break one of these 
 least commandments, and teach men so, he shall 
 be called the least in the kingdom of heaven ;" and 
 nothing can bring all these things more decidedly 
 to the point than what our Lord says in the same 
 sermon, " Be ye perfect, as your Father who is in 
 heaven is perfect." It is a dangerous business to 
 preach up a doctrine that has such a direct tendency 
 to teach us to violate God's most holy law, which 
 must be as eternal and as unchangeable as God 
 himself. 
 
 Wor. I am sorry Dr. Orderly should suppose that 
 Christ came down from heaven to abrogate the 
 perfect law of his Father, and to set up an imperfect 
 one in the room of it. Did not our Lord say just 
 the contrary, in the very same sermon, when he de- 
 clared " he came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil 
 
160 
 
 it ;" and that " not even one jot or tittle of it should 
 pass away till all was fulfilled ?" 
 
 Consul. Sir, as a further illustration of your re- 
 marks, we are to -suppose that there was once a 
 long measure of obedience fully defined, that we 
 should love God perfectly ; but that now an inde- 
 finite short one is to be introduced in its place ; and 
 that a part , be it more or less, is to pass for the 
 whole. So, as it respects the payment of debts, full- 
 weight money was once demanded ; but according to 
 this new law, it is as lawful to pay in short- weight 
 money, provided we pay as well as we can. So 
 that whether it be a half, or a quarter, or even less 
 still, if the law allows it, I perfectly fulfil the terms 
 of such a law, by my imperfect payment. Thus, 
 while the old law condemns our corruptions, and 
 demands perfect obedience, the new law makes a 
 sort of an undefined composition between us and 
 God ; and, I am sure, while this new Iaw r thus com- 
 pounds for the sins of man, there can be no need of 
 salvation by the Gospel. It is, however, a strange 
 way of talking, to suppose a man pays his rent per- 
 fectly ', though he pays it but partially, provided lie 
 pa\b it sincerely, and as well as he can. 
 
 Lovely. Oh, sir, the Doctor did not mean to go so 
 far as this. 
 
 JLoveg. I am persuaded, sir, he did not ; but he ill 
 conceives of the evil consequences of his own doc- 
 trine. Every expression which has a tendency to 
 withdraw our minds from the purity of God's law, 
 must also prove equally subversive of the Gospel of 
 Christ; and we may easily judge what an unhaiiowed 
 influence this must produce on the hearts of men. 
 But pray, sir, did toe Doctor shew you any part of 
 the Scriptures winch settles this point? 1 should 
 have supposed that a doctrine, so very essential in 
 itself, w ould have been very plainly revealed. 
 
161 
 
 Lovely. Sir, his references were rather genera! 
 than particular. 
 
 Loveg. I should suppose that such general refer- 
 ences would best suit the cause. But did he not call 
 this new- invented law by the name of the remedial 
 law ? 
 
 Lovely. I think that was the term he gave it. 
 
 Lovep\ No wonder that an unscriptural name was 
 wanted for such an unscriptural doctrine ; * and I 
 suppose the inventors of that phrase took it from 
 the "word remedy. A fine law truly, a remedy for 
 man's corruptions, by allowing a partial practice of 
 them ! Pray, sir, what would you think, if the laws. 
 of the country were as badly framed as these slip- 
 posed modern laws of God ; if the laws against theft; 
 violence, and adultery, were to be u made easy for 
 the practice of the present age ; 5? f and if a little lati- 
 tude were to be given as a remedy on all these occa- 
 sions, what would be the result of it ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I am sure the Doctor never meant 
 to encourage such immoralities. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, though the purity of his intentions is 
 indubitable, yet, what have been the consequences 
 of such sort of doctrines ? Why, a system of lax mo- 
 rality has been introduced, in the room of genuine 
 Christianity. People thereby have been rendered 
 careless and secure, in a state of mind far inferior to 
 what is demanded in the word of God. In short, 
 preaching up the merit of good works has produced 
 
 * I am aware of an objection on this score, as it relates to the word 
 Trinity. Some will ask the question, in what part of Scripture is that to 
 be found ? I answer, no where ; its utility alone exists in superseding 
 the need of long circumlocuitous expressions, that have been denned a 
 thousand times over : though others have followed their example in call- 
 ing themselves Unitarians, in contradistinction to Trinitarians, while they 
 know that every Trinitarian is as much an Unitarian as themselves, 
 
 •f See the title-page of the ?:ew Whole Duty of Man. 
 
 Vol. II. P 
 
162 
 
 nothing but the practice of bad ones. Such has been 
 the case ever since the old standard doctrines of the 
 Bible and of the Church of England have been ne- 
 glected ; the Churches themselves, in most places, 
 have been shamefully forsaken ; and, white the or- 
 dinances of the Sabbath and of the sanctuary have 
 been thus thrown aside, we cannot wonder at the 
 abounding wickedness of the day. 
 
 Lovely. But, sir, the Doctor's church is very de- 
 cently filled, though not so crowded as yours. 
 
 Loveg. I have heard it is, sir, and I am happy that 
 the people give that token of their esteem for such a 
 respectable character. But, look into other churches, 
 where the same sort of doctrine, or very nearly so, is 
 preached by other clergy, much less respectable than 
 himself. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, the Doctor is as much displeased at 
 the careless lives of the clergy as you can be. You 
 never see him out of temper, but when he is speaking 
 about some of them, in his own neighbourhood ; and 
 I 5 11 assure you, sir, he never speaks of you, or Mr. 
 Ivlerryman, and some other clergy, of your acquaint- 
 ance, but in terms of high repect ; though, in some 
 instances, he thinks you are mistaken in your doc- 
 trines, and from the same principle that you object 
 to his, that they have a tendency to make men lax 
 in their morals : though, at the same time, he is not 
 a little astonished that there has been such a reforma- 
 tion accomplished in your parish ; and he is quite 
 surprized to see what a good man Mr. Merryman 
 has been made by your preaching. 
 
 Wor. But, sir, will you tell us plainly, if we ask 
 the question, have there been any instances of the 
 influence of the Doctor's preaching on the hearts of 
 his t carers, similar to those which, through the bles- 
 sing of God, have been exemplified among others 
 
163 
 
 who preach salvation by the entire mercies of Christ 
 to a ruined world? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, the Doctor laments that circumstance 
 exceedingly. He says, he has had the satisfaction of 
 keeping and confirming the good in the habits of 
 virtue ; but, even with tears, he acknowledged, that 
 -as yet he did not know that he had reclaimed any 
 that were really vicious from the error of their ways ; 
 though he thinks he knows a few instances of some 
 that are less vicious than formerly. 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, Mr. Lovely, both you and the 
 Doctor are strangely mistaken, if you suppose that 
 the doctrines we preach, when properly understood, 
 can, in anywise have an immoral tendency upon our 
 hearers. For, in regard to repentance, which you 
 call one of the conditions of our salvation, and which 
 consequently must be left, in a great measure, to 
 corrupted man to perform, as by himself; yet we, on 
 the contrary, believe, according to our excellent li- 
 turgy, that -it is God who " creates in us a new and 
 contrite heart ! " and again, while we believe we are, 
 by the Spirit of God, made to abhor that which is 
 evil ; under such sensations, we are satisfied it will be 
 impossible for any of us to live in it, — the existence of 
 sin being the only hell we feel or fear. In short, sir, 
 we believe that repentance is regeneration; it means 
 a change of mind, and it is impossible that a man can 
 live in sin when thus by the grace of God he is ut- 
 terly set against it. 
 
 So in regard to believing, which you suppose to be 
 another condition, which is to be performed by us. 
 As we are persuaded that none but humble penitents. 
 will be true believers, so none but such will fly from 
 sin to Christ ; and no one can fiy from sin, that he 
 may live in it, any more than a man can fly from the 
 plague, that he may catch it. Again, sir, while you 
 conceive it to be a condition that rests with as, we 
 
164 
 
 conceive it to be a grace of the Holy Spirit wrought 
 in as ; and that such a faith must purify the heart, a$ 
 thereby we are united to Christ; and, while we thus 
 11 abide in him, and he in us, we shall bring forth 
 much fruit." Read the fifteenth, of St. John's Gos- 
 pel, sir, at your leisure, and that will tell you what 
 we mean by faith. 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I never thought that you meant to 
 preach faith without works ; but as for me, I confess 
 
 I thought that, 1 confess, I scarcely know what I 
 
 thought ; but I cannot stand my ground. If I am 
 w T rong, the Lord have mercy upon me, and set me 
 right ! But, I must acknowledge, if we are such 
 fallen creatures as you say the Bible represents us to 
 be, I cannot see how ever we can repent or believe 
 while our natures are so depraved. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Oh, my dear George, how glad lam 
 to hear 3011 say so ! Do you not remember how much 
 the Doctor himself seemed to be perplexed when I 
 asked, what they who felt their hearts so hardened 
 and unbelieving must do, and who still wished to be 
 changed? and he answered, they should pray to 
 God for his grace ; and then you know I saicl, that if 
 God is to give us these graces, we can't bring them 
 to him, till we first receive them from him. 
 
 Wor. Why, we had it from good authority, that 
 when the Doctor was ill the other day, and he refus- 
 ed the assistance of Mr. Jackadandy ; when it was 
 thought he would die, he was obliged to give up all 
 his hopes of conditional salvation. For that he had 
 performed these supposed conditions so ill, that his 
 sins of omission, like those of St. Augustin, were 
 more frightful in his sight than those of commis- 
 sion. 
 
 Lovely. \To his wife.'] My dear, I fear I spoke too 
 hastily to you when you mentioned your concern, 
 alter you had first heard Mr. Lovegocd. I mean to 
 
165 
 
 think more seriously about these matters. I hope 
 you'll forgive me ; and, if I can't think quite as you 
 do, I'll never oppose you any more. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Oh, my dearest George !-^-[She 
 weeps — he weeps — they all weep — -and while these 
 sympathetic tears interrupt the continuation of the 
 dialogue, the concluding narration of the history of 
 this faithful and affectionate pair must necessarily he 
 deferred. ^ 
 
 P 2 
 
166 
 
 DIALOGUE XXV 
 
 BETWEEN MR. WORTHY AND MR. FREE, 
 
 A Friend of the Family of the Lcvelvs. 
 
 CONTAINING THE CHARACTER OF ALDERMAN GREEDY, 
 OF GREDITON. 
 
 THE Lovelys were in the habit of making excur- 
 sions about that neighbourhood, that they might 
 entertain themselves with the scenery of the coun- 
 try. One morning they went to see a beautiful ro- 
 mantic waterfal, which, being at some distance, occu- 
 pied them the whole of the day, 
 
 A gentleman of an easy and liberal mind, whose 
 name is Free, an old friend of the family of the 
 Lovelys, had lately come into that neighbourhood. 
 He accidentally hearing that young Mr. Lovely was 
 recently married, and that he was hospitably enter- 
 tained at Mr. Worthy's, came over to see him ; 
 but, unfortunately, on the very day on which he 
 went to see the waterfal. The reader, however, 
 by this event, will gain more information respecting 
 the family of the Greedys, especially of the great un- 
 cle, than otherwise might have been the case. 
 
 Mr. Worthy, therefore, with his usual hospitality, 
 insisted upon it Mr. Free should be detained that 
 day at Brook field Hall, that he might not be disap- 
 pointed of his errand. 
 
167 
 
 Mr. Free having been thus hospitably invited to 
 the house, after some introductory conversation, the 
 following dialogue took place. 
 
 Wor. Have you long known the family of the 
 Loveiys, sir ? 
 
 Free, Sir, Mr. Lovely's father and I were school- 
 fellows, and we have been in the habits of intimacy 
 ever since : we were also near neighbours till about 
 five j T ears ago. 
 
 Wor. Then I suppose you lived somewhere near 
 Grediton ? 
 
 Free. Yes, sir, much too near for the good of my 
 health. * The air of that place never agreed with my 
 constitution. Our house was situated about half- 
 way between Grediton and Fairfield, the abode of 
 Mr. Lovely. 
 
 Wor. I should suppose, from what young Mr. 
 Lovely says of his father, that he is a person of a very 
 respectable character. 
 
 Free. Very much so indeed, sir, though he mar- 
 ried into a shocking family. 
 
 Wor. Yes, by his account, the family of the 
 Greedys are a sad set ; his uncle has used him most 
 cruelly on account of his marriage. 
 
 Free. Indeed, sir, the conduce of his uncle in that 
 business was not less treacherous and unjust, than 
 the behaviour of Mr. George Lovely was generous 
 and fair. He quite takes after his father. He is of 
 an excellent disposition. 
 
 Wor. But it seems his uncle is determined to cut 
 him off from every penny, pn account of his marri- 
 age, though he is his heir at law. 
 
 Free. . So he gives it out. But I should not won- 
 der, when his rage is abated, though he is of a very 
 
168 
 
 revengeful and malicious turn of mind, if he leaves 
 him every farthing. I know all the family well — 
 they are a strange set, 
 
 WoTk I am afraid his mother is quite a Greedy y 
 though he says nothing to us about her. 
 
 Free. Indeed, sir, she is entirely one of the family ; 
 she is always aiming at that which is covetous and 
 mean, while her husband is just the reverse. 
 
 Wor. It is bad work when the disposition of the 
 husband and wife are so contrary to each other : but 
 he talks of a very rich, old great uncle, a lawyer, 
 and one of the aldermen of Grediton, who as highly 
 approves of the match as the other uncle opposes it. 
 Though I don't like to ask the young people any 
 questions about their rich relations, as it always 
 brings some painful reflections to their mind ; yet 
 Mrs. Lovely has mentioned several things to Mrs. 
 Worthy respecting his astonishing covetousness. By 
 what we can gather, he must be one of the most re- 
 markable misers that ever existed. 
 
 Free. I should suppose if you could search the 
 kingdom over you would not find his equal : and he 
 is not less wicked than mean. 
 
 Wor. I should suppose his character, as a miser, is 
 almost as complete as it could be. While the pro- 
 digal, like him in the Gospel, spends all in mad and 
 riotous living, till he becomes a mere pensioner up- 
 on the hogs ; this miser, it seems, though he ieeds 
 on the imaginary idea of his wealth, sustains the real 
 evils of one in abject poverty* 
 
 Free. As a lawyer, nobody knows better how to 
 turn the pockets of others inside out, that he may fill 
 his own. 
 
 Wor. The profession of the law turns in well for 
 those who can get rid of conscience and principle in 
 their profession. 
 
 Free. Sir, from his childhood he was educated in 
 
. 169 
 
 all its subterfuges and chicanery ; the practice of 
 which, for some years, proved considerably to his 
 advantage : but as he made it a point to click at no- 
 thing, provided he could s;erve himself, rather than 
 his client, he had but little business after a while, 
 except among those of his own sort. 
 
 Wor. In this respect, it seems he was rather too 
 roguish for his own interest 
 
 Free, Rather so: but their he procured for him- 
 self some excellent pickings through life, by being 
 agent for the corporation to which he belonged. 
 
 Wor. I am told he is immensly rich. Had he 
 much to begin with ? 
 
 Free. His private fortune, as one of the younger 
 branches of a wealthy family, was no more than 
 two thousand pounds, and from this comparatively 
 small sum, either by his hoardings as a miser, or 
 by his gettings as a lawyer, he is now supposed to 
 be worth thirty times that sum. 
 
 Wor. It seems, he was never married* 
 
 Free. Report says, he never thought of marrying 
 but once, and that was to a rich widow, who was 
 nearly as frugal as himself. The marriage articles 
 were accordingly drawn out by himself : But when 
 he came to lecture her on his methods of ceconomy, 
 and especially that he could never allow but one sheet 
 to the bed, as laying upon the blankets is the most 
 wholesome, she begged to be off. Upon this he 
 threatened to prosecute her for a breach of contract, 
 and thereby picked her pocket of two hundred 
 pounds. 
 
 Wor. What a strange trick ! But all this was no 
 great sum to begin with, if what Mr. George Lovely 
 says be true, that he is now worth upwards of three 
 thousand pounds a year. 
 
 Free. Sir, I don't doubt it. Hoarding and saving 
 are all his delight. He is an excellent arithmeti- - 
 
170 
 
 clan ; and this talent he alwavs exercises in the old 
 proverb, " A penny saved is a penny got." He was 
 so well acquainted with the consequences of interest 
 and compound interest, that, report says, he it was 
 who recommended that plan to the late prime mi- 
 nister to pay off the national debt ; and as, on that 
 occasion, he feigned himself a man of poverty, he 
 got a good slice of the secret service money for his 
 advice, as another addition to his useless hoard. 
 
 JFor. As to his personal expences, it seems, he is 
 stingy beyond any thing. 
 
 Free. Sir, report says, he were the same suit of 
 clothes, of a dark grey mixture, for full fourteen 
 years ; and which most people remembered from 
 childhood : so that he was known by the name of the 
 grey alderman. And as he was under the necessity 
 of appearing decent, that he might pick up a few 
 of those precious things called guineas, which he 
 was in the habit of receiving, upon being consulted 
 for his advice ; and when he appeared abroad upon 
 his business, it is said, that to keep his best suit in a 
 state of proper preservation, he adhered strictly to 
 the following rules. — First, he never wore them but 
 as he was professionally consulted ; and then, if at 
 home, when any came for his advice, he would slip 
 off his morning gown and put on his coat and waist- 
 coat, and next cover his old patched tattered small 
 clothes with a silk handkerchief, which was alwavs 
 at hand for that purpose. 
 
 Secondly. As soon as he had given his advice, 
 these clothes were immediately slipt off, and return- 
 ed to the chest, that they might be preserved from 
 dust, wind, and weather, till wanted again. 
 
 Thirdly. Whenever he was called abroad, and 
 when seated in an elbow chair, in these clothes, he 
 would always sit like a trussed turkey, with his arms 
 close to his body, that he might not damage the el- 
 
171 
 
 bows by any wasteful rubs : the same care he also 
 took not to lean back, but sat as upright as a dart, 
 that the shoulder bones might not have the same ef- 
 fect on the back of his coat. 
 
 Wor. What an astonishing instance of frugality 
 and care ! 
 
 Free. Yes, sir, and his old morning gown was an- 
 other piece of curious antiquity, the real age of 
 which could never be correctly ascertained. It was 
 originally fabricated out of some old curtains he 
 bought as a bargain, at a sale, and designed as hang- 
 ings for his bed.* But having discovered that these 
 would be unwholesome, as they were likely to prevent 
 the free circulation of the air, they were by himself, 
 who, for the same frugal purposes, had pretty well 
 learnt the use of the needle, transmogrified into this 
 morning gown. His wig also was another piece of 
 valuable antiquity, which had been in existence up- 
 wards of nine years, and which gave him a very 
 respectable and alderman-like appearance. This 
 also was worn with the same frugality and oeconomy, 
 and, when done with, returned into its band-box, 
 with remarkable care, when its place would be sup- 
 plied by an old Welsh wig, which he luckily procur- 
 ed for a bad debt, together with some sheets and 
 blankets which he claimed in lieu of lees, from the 
 executors of an old man, who died a few pounds in 
 his debt, leaving his grand-daughter behind him, to 
 execrate such a rapacious wretch ; who could de- 
 prive her thereby of the small gratuities she ex- 
 pected for her attendance, and not even leave her a 
 sufficiency to carry her grandfather with decency to 
 the grave. 
 
 Wor. What a horrid wretch ! and is he as frugal 
 in his house-keeping as in his clothing ? 
 
 Free. Sir, he ever insists upon it, that if people 
 are troubled with rats or mice, it is their own fault ; 
 
172 
 
 for that it is a sure proof they keep too good a house; 
 that, as he has never been pe-tered with such sort of 
 
 aders, he has ever saved himself the expence of 
 ing a cat ; so that if ever a rat, cr a mouse, 
 through mistake, should steal into his premises, one 
 could almost feign to oneself the idea, how they 
 >tand with tears in their eyes lamenting their 
 sad mistake, that ever they should have found the 
 unfortunate hole into that horrid land of famine ! 
 
 Wor* Xo doubt then but his housekeeping was all 
 of a piece, if ruts and mice were so alarmed at the 
 sight of it. 
 
 Free. He was in the habit of remarking that his 
 
 expences dmself and an old woman, who oc 
 
 ly waits on him, formerly amounted to at 
 
 :e a day ; but that of late they had beep 
 
 doubled. The common black tea he preier- 
 
 ... g the most whoic^oiiie ; for where he can 
 
 >enny he wondei/iUiiy studies die vcholesomes; 
 
 :.e and watei he adopts as his bevei ge, on 
 
 ...count ; though, now and ows 
 
 :i small beer, as a treat between him 
 
 or. It is a wonder he has not starved himself to 
 
 . Sir, from the same principles he never al- 
 3 the use cf mustard, pepper, ciiidse:,:, 
 
 ;v are very expensive .irticlcs, and stimu- 
 lus to eat more than nature 
 res : wh little scraps he buys at the m« 
 
 are pretty hi atec before they ape 
 
 - give. Som even 
 
 a little poultry, provided it has 
 been rendered cheap through an utimely death. 
 Wor. I never herd of such a filthy oid hog in all 
 
 fcj sir, this strange old ceconomist, after all, 
 
173 
 
 while he is thus frugal, at his own table, can be vora,^ 
 cious enough while he enjoys his repast at the tables 
 of others ; and, though he always says, it is a sure 
 sign a man is a toper when he can uncork the bottle 
 for his own indulgence ; yet, at the table of others, 
 the pop of an uncorking bottle is not less pfeasant to 
 his ears than the taste of the wine is grateful to his 
 palate. 
 
 War. Such curious instances of astonishing fruga- 
 lity and meanness, I think, I never heard of before. 
 
 Free. Sir, I can give you other instances of the 
 same sort ; whenever he attends any of the corpora- 
 tion feasts, made at the public expence, they say, he 
 Will not only half-starve himself the day before, that 
 he may then satisfy his voracious appetite with as 
 much as ever it will dispense with ; but afterwards, 
 if he sees any thing that is moveable, such as biscuits, 
 oranges, apples, almonds, and raisins, dried sweet 
 meats, and other such rarities, these will find their 
 way into his pockets in considerable abundance* 
 
 Wor. I wonder he is not ashamed of himself, - 
 
 Free. Shame, sir! why there is no shame in him. 
 For though the town is filled with misers, yet he is 
 so much worse than the worst of them, that he is the 
 butt of general ridicule and contempt among them 
 all. On one of these occasions an artful wag cut a 
 hole in his pocket, whereby his intended hoard was 
 found scattered about the room as fast as he could 
 pocket it. At another time, he was treated with the 
 intermixture of a nearly tasteless powder of a certain 
 root that acts as a powerful cathartic, which they 
 say had a very seasonable effect after a most plen- 
 tiful repast. I am really, sir, almost ashamed to tell 
 you these strange stories, but that you may under- 
 stand how- he would submit to any thing sooner than 
 forego the advantages resulting from his covetous 
 pranks. 
 
 Vol. II. Q 
 
174 
 
 Wor. Was ever such a creature heard of before? 
 He surely never could find it in his heart to ask a 
 friend to partake of a meal with him : if he begrudged 
 himself, .he certainly begrudged his friends. 
 
 Free. He now and then would invite a person to 
 his table, and give them a dinner, but never unless 
 under the expectation of securing their custom, or 
 for some other lucrative motive. On one of these 
 occasions he treated his guest with a roasting pig, 
 which unfortunately lost its life by being overlaid 
 by the sow, and which was not discovered till 
 above a day after its death. And then it proved so 
 rich a repast to his guest, that it made him so very 
 ill, that he thought it necessary to employ Mr. 
 Greedy to alter his will, lest he should die ; whereby 
 he not only procured a couple of guineas for him- 
 self, but another guinea for a physician, who was 
 nearly as covetous as himself, that he might obtain 
 a proper recipe to dislodge the portion oi the above- 
 said pig, which had made him so ill. 
 
 On the next market day, however, as report says, 
 Mr. Greedy had the misfortune to be well paid off 
 in return. For having agreed on the purchase of 
 the dead pig for a shilling, the woman who sold 
 it called after him, while he w 7 as seeking for his 
 cheap bargains, as an old rascal, for that he had put 
 her off with a bad shilling for her dead pig, on the 
 last market day, and demanded a good one in re- 
 turn. This he refused : upon which the woman 
 becoming clamorous, the rest of the market-women 
 joined in the uproar. They next helped her to 
 seize him, and immediately they all surrounded 
 him, treating him with a variety of such lan- 
 guage as they are accustomed to use on the like oc- 
 casions, threatening to drag him directly to justice 
 if he did not exchange the bad shilling for a good 
 one ; while he, sadly against his will, that he might 
 
175 
 
 get out of the hobble, submitted to their demands* _ 
 Thus he procured his escape, though he had still to 
 run the gauntlet through the market, each calling 
 after him; while one asked him what he would 
 give, the next market day, for a dead turkey ; an- 
 other offered him an old gander that had been killed 
 by. a fox ; and a third presented him with the cheap 
 offer of some stinking fish. It is not to be wondered 
 at, that this treatment kept him out of the market for 
 above a twelvemonth afterward ; nor could he dare, 
 ever after that time, to appear but quite at the fag 
 end of the day, when he might avail himself of cheap 
 bargains, without running the risk of such another 
 rencontre. 
 
 Wor. Well, in all my life I never heard of such a 
 creature. No wonder that, whenever his name is 
 mentioned, Mr. Lovely is silent, and shakes his head. 
 But the old women in the market treated him just as 
 he deserved. 
 
 Free. Sir, I can recollect a few more anecdotes, 
 out of a vast abundance, which might be produced, 
 concerning this most contemptible miser. He is so 
 covetous, that he scarcely ever can afford to buy a 
 piece of soap for the purpose of washing himself. 
 
 Wor. A nasty old fellow ! one would think he 
 would be poisoned by his own filthiness.. 
 
 Free. Really, sir, notwithstanding this, when you 
 see him out of doors, he, in general, looks clean 
 and wholesome. But he will boast how he keeps 
 his skin clean, by merely rubbing himself with a 
 coarse dry cloth, which he observes, not only has 
 the salubrious effects of a flesh brush, but saves him 
 the expence of soap. 
 
 Wor. Was it possible that he could go beyond all 
 this? ' 
 
 Free. Sir, he is the same man throughout. Once 
 he had nearly suffered the penalty of fifty pounds 
 
176 
 
 for making his own tallow candles ; not only that 
 he might evade the. duty on his own account, but 
 that he might also make an advantageous swap of a 
 part of his stock for his black tea and brown sugar, 
 at a neighbouring chandler's shop. 
 
 Wor. Had the penalty been levied, I should sup- 
 pose that the loss of the money might have broken 
 his heart. But if he was the manufacturer of his 
 own candles, I suppose he could afford himself a 
 little light. / 
 
 Free. Sir, I have been told, though he makes his 
 own candles, yet he uses them very sparingly ; for 
 first, he never burns but one at a time, as he has 
 discovered that a strong light is prejudicial to his . 
 eyes ; and also that it is a sin to burn out day light. 
 His employment, therefore, during twilight, they 
 say, is to knit his own stockings, which, from the 
 same frugal motives, he has learnt to accomplish in 
 a most dexterous manner. 
 
 Wor< Have you any more stories to tell of this 
 curious muck- worm? 
 
 Free. At one time he had nearly lost his life by 
 suffocation from the fumes of brimstone, having 
 commenced the manufacturer of his own matches, 
 under a discovery that he could make many more 
 matches for a farthing than he could purchase for a 
 halfpenny : and at another time, his life was in great 
 danger from his having been shot at, under a sup- 
 position that one moonshiny night he was robbing 
 a rabbit warren; when the fact was, that he was only 
 engaged in picking up the excrements of the sheep, 
 #nd other cattle, that he might enrich his own 
 garden, by depriving a neighbouring common of 
 its manure. Such are some of the contrivances of 
 this miserable creature, that he may have plenty of 
 ready money, for purposes not less villanous than 
 tfaev are mean, 
 
Won It seldom happens, but where a deal of co~ 
 vetousness exists, cruelty and villany are sure to be 
 connected with it. 
 
 Free. I am sure it is the case with that crafty 
 old harpy, for every thing he does is with air eye to 
 his own interest. It is looked upon as a remarkable 
 instance of extravagance, at least in him, to give 
 sixpence a week to a public news-room; but it is 
 with a design that he may learn from the different 
 advertisements, what is to be sold by the thought- 
 less and necessitous of every description. And 
 from this principle he is become a considerable land- 
 jobber, whereby he has made several advantageous 
 purchases of different estates. Some he sells again, 
 others he has in his own possession. 
 
 JVor. What a long headed fellow he must be— 
 and what a character he must have among all that 
 know him! 
 
 Free. He cares nothing about character; for he 
 will oftentimes tell of his covetous pranks for the. 
 diversion of others, in a measure, of the same stamp 
 with himself. I remember one of them was, that, 
 hearing, by the papers, an estate was to be sold not 
 far from Credit on, and that London was to be the 
 place of sale; he first contrived to get himself sub- 
 poenaed to attend a trial, at an assize in the town 
 through which he must necessarily pass. As his de- 
 parture from home, being a professional man, might 
 prove a considerable loss to him, the charge he rtiadfe 
 was so high, that it completely paid his st.ge- 
 coach expences, during a journey of near four hun- 
 dred miies, before he accomplished his return. He 
 not only ! 1 /ed at free cost while he was upon the busi- 
 ness of the trial, but when there pocketed sufficient 
 prog to take hint to London. Chi his arrival \here 
 he entered the auction-room as early a > he could} 
 and this being plentifully provided vvi 
 
 2 
 
If '8 
 
 wine, and other good commodities of the same sort, 
 being sharp set, after his long journey, he first made 
 a most plentiful meal, and next loaded his pockets 
 with a quantity sufficient to furnish him with pro- 
 visions for his return, that he might not be at the 
 expence of eating at an inn. The whole of his tra- 
 velling expences amounting but to fifteen-pence for 
 a little gin and water, or small beer, after so long a 
 journey, and after having purchased an estate amount- 
 ing to near three hundred pounds a year. 
 
 Wor. Sir, if I had the least reason to doubt your 
 veracity, I should at once say it is impossible. But 
 when covetousness is thus reduced to a system, al- 
 most any thing may be credited, that the wretched 
 system may be abided by. I am afraid he was a hor- 
 rid extortionate landlord. 
 
 Free. Why, sir, after all, for I know a deal of the 
 family, this wretched cormorant, who never got 
 fat by all he devoured, does not over-rate his te- 
 nants; but this is all from the same principle, that 
 they may not beggar his estates. 
 
 Wor. Why, I find all my tenants, as they ^re 
 used well, pay well. That mercenary landlord, who 
 oppresses his tenants, is generally served as he de- 
 serves — they beggar his land, and break in his 
 debt. 
 
 Free. Ah, sir, without flattery, your name as a 
 landlord, will live a long time after you are dead. 
 As far as this, however, old alderman Greedy fol- 
 lows your example. But if any of them are in ar- 
 rears, or should, perchance, through misfortune fail 
 in his debt, he directly becomes to them the most 
 oppressive vulture that ever lived. The cry of the 
 widow and the orphan never reaches his callous 
 heart ; the accomplishment of their ruin is sure to 
 take place, sooner than he will miss by lenity what 
 'he can extort by law. 
 
179 
 
 Wor. Why, of the two, one should rather sup- 
 pose he was a greater monster of iniquity than the 
 possessor of the family estate at Grediton Hail. 
 
 Free. Sir, in point of principle, the one is as bad 
 as the other. But in regard to mere covetousness, 
 so far as it relates to the art of saving, the old alder- 
 man far exceeds him. As to usury, it is his supreme 
 delight, so far as he can evade the lash of the law. 
 The extravagant spendthrift he is sure to deal with, 
 if t he can cover himself by collateral security from 
 the most distant danger of a loss, and these may de- 
 pend upon paying most severely for their folly. — -A 
 sinking tradesman is also sure to get money from 
 him, provided he can procure a bond in judgment 
 for himself; for it is no matter with him who is 
 cheated, provided he is benefited. 
 
 Wor. A bond in judgment ! yes, those rascally in- 
 struments of legal process might do well enough for 
 him, while they entirely sweep away the property of 
 other creditors who may have an equal claim. But 
 can a man of character or conscience bear to possess 
 such diabolical instruments of law for a moment ? 
 
 Free. No matter for all this or ten times more ; 
 these miserable characters would strike his rapacious 
 eye with infernal delight : like a complete vulture, 
 as sure as he could seize them in his talons, he would 
 hold them fast, till they became entirely subject 
 to his mercy; a grain of which he never pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 Wor. What horrid mischief the love of money 
 does to the human mind ! 
 
 Free. Why, sir, the mind of lawyer Greedy is 
 scarcely human. Cruel as the spider when the help- 
 less fly is entangled in his web, which he is sure never 
 to leave till he finishes his existence by sucking his 
 blood ; so this unfeeling fiend in human shape, who 
 cares for no one but himself, when he has these un- 
 wary sufferers safely toiled in those cruel iustru- 
 
* k 180 
 
 -merits of law, tortures them at his pleasure ; and, 
 while there is any blood in them, being as crafty as 
 he is cruel, he is sure to find it out ! 
 
 JVor. What a monster of a man ! 
 
 Free. Sir, he is one who knows no interest but 
 what centres in himself. If ever he appears generous 
 it is only with some feigned design. He had been 
 a bearable character, were he merely covetotfs for 
 himself; but his covetousness urges him on to every 
 thing that is wicked and unjust, while, at the 
 same time, he is one of those long-headed crafty- 
 minded fellows, that scarcely ever expose themselves 
 to the lash of the law : but under the cover of the 
 law he will act a part the most villanous and un- 
 just: 
 
 JVor. It seems he is of a great age. 
 
 Free. Yes, sir ; but the last time I was informed 
 about him, I heard he was as keen after money as ever, 
 grasping after the world as eagerly as if he was never 
 to leave it. 
 
 JVor. One would suppose that it is scarcely pos * 
 sibie a single drop of the blood of the Greedy s could 
 be found in young Mr. Lovely ; he seems to be of 
 such a beautiful turn of mind. But he has the satis- 
 faction of it within himself. As to such wretched 
 creatures as the alderman, it is a righteous judgment 
 of God, that everv evil should be attended with its 
 own punishment. 
 
 Free. I have that opinion of Mr. George Lovely v 
 that, if ever he possesses any part of the lamily pro- 
 perty, he will be a shining character. I hope, sir, 
 his tender delicate wife is upon the recovery, since 
 they have been so hospitably received in your delight- 
 ful place; The scenery is very enchanting. 
 
 Wor. Yes, sir, she is considerably better. 
 
 Free. I am sure, if she recovers her health any 
 where, no place can be better calculated than this 
 for the purpose. 
 
181 
 
 VFor. Yes, sir, the kind providence of God has fa- 
 voured us with a pleasant situation* If you are not 
 too much tired after your ride, perhaps you would 
 like a w^alk ; for you must not leave me till you 
 have seen the Lovelys. 
 
 The proposal was agreed to. As the conversation 
 only turned upon the beautiful prospects, and the 
 elegant, yet romantic views about BrookfiekPHall, 
 it need not be repeated. I should judge, however, 
 some of my readers may suppose I have reported 
 what has been sufficient to startle their credulity, 
 respecting the remarkable covetousness of the old 
 Grediton alderman. Should it also be suspected 
 that I may have blended two or three known cha- 
 racters into one, the reader shall enjoy his own con- 
 jecture. After all, let him remember the w r ell au- 
 thenticated characters of the late Mr. Elwes (though 
 for many years in parliament for Berkshire :) the 
 famous Baron D'Aguilar, belonging to the Starva- 
 tion Farm Yard, near Islington : that filthy old 
 (Economist, Daniel Dancer, Esq. late of Pinner, in 
 Middlesex ; who, at times, literally lived on carrion, 
 and actually died in a sack about nine years ago, 
 though worth three thousand pounds annually ; his 
 sister also being just such another (Economist as 
 himself: and that a living witness of the same sort 
 of unaccountable (Economy still exists, in the keeper 
 of the dirty -warehouse, in Leadenhali street : and 
 then I believe it will be acknowledged, that the 
 character of the miser, as exemplified in the Gredi- 
 ton alderman, is by no means caricatured, the ge- 
 neral conduct of others of the same tribe beinc: 
 brought into consideration. 
 
 Let the present subject be concluded, with a re- 
 mark of the inimitable Bishop Hail. — " The cp- 
 
182 
 
 vetous man Is like the spicier ; he does nothing but 
 lay his nets to catch every fly, gaping only for a 
 booty of gain ; so yet more, in that whilst he makes 
 nets for these flies, he consumeth his own bowels, 
 so that which is his life is his death ; and yet he is 
 least to be pitied, because he makes himself misera- 
 ble ; like wicked Ahab, the sight of another's vine- 
 yard turns him sick at heart ; he wants it for himself. 
 He hates his neighbours as bad as he is hated by 
 them, and would .sell his best friend, if he had one, 
 for a groat. He pines his body that he may damn 
 his soul; and whenever disappointed of his fexpected 
 gain, through the accursed discontent of his mind, 
 he would dispatch himself, but that he is loath to 
 castaway money on a cord.' 5 
 
%m 
 
 DIALOGUE XXVI. 
 
 BETWEEN THE LOVELYS, THE FAMILY OF THE 
 WORTHYS, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 
 
 CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THEIR DEPARTURE FROM 
 BROOKFIELD HALL. 
 
 ABOUT ten days after the event of the former 
 dialogue, the Lovelys still continued at Brook- 
 field Hall. Their design was to have provided for 
 themselves some little retired cot in the village, and 
 having fixed upon one that suited their taste, they 
 were about to fit it up in the style of those who find 
 much happiness in a little, provided they are blessed 
 with happiness in themselves ; while this step was 
 not less satisfactory to the Worthys, who did all in 
 their power to forward their design. The only con- 
 ditions were, that as Mr. Lovely was not as yet 
 thoroughly settled respecting the divinity of the 
 respectable Dr. Orderly, he might now-and-then 
 attend his church on die Sabbath-day. Even as 
 yet Mr. Lovely seemed scarcely beaten out of all 
 his strong holds of confidence in himself; for, to 
 the very last week of his continuance in those parts, 
 he was somewhat inclined to keep up his opposi- 
 tion to the Gospel 'way of salvation by Jesus Christ ; 
 and, therefore, tried if he could not do more by 
 his pen in his chamber than he could by conver- 
 sation. All this he intended for the perusal of 
 Mr. Lovegood ; yet the more he studied the Bible, 
 to make it compatible with his own sentiments, the 
 more he was contused ; and the more he wrote the 
 
184 
 
 less he liked it ; till at length he -was obliged t© 
 commit all his writings to the flames, and soon be- 
 came as humble and as lowly as a child ; while he 
 could scarce speak against his stout opposition to 
 these things to. Mrs. Lovely without a tear starting 
 from his eye, that ever he should have given her a 
 moment's grief on that subject ; intermixed with 
 holy gratitude, that now the silken cords of Gospel 
 love had united them still more than ever in heart 
 and affection to each other, through the powerful 
 influences of that love which makes us all one in 
 Christ Jesus. 
 
 Mr. Lovegood's mind, at the same time, was led 
 out in great thankfulness for these fresh instances 
 of divine mercy, manifested through him as a mi- 
 nister of the word of life. But, alas, very soon af- 
 ter this an unexpected summons to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lovely made a separation immediately necessary. 
 The post, with the tidings of his great uncle's dan- 
 gerous illness, reached Brookneld on the evening 
 of the Sunday ; and Mr. Lovegood was sent to that 
 evening, to breakfast with the family on the Mon- 
 day morning, that he might be with them at the 
 time of their departure. Such an interesting and 
 sympathetic union had now taken place between 
 all parties as rendered this last interview very af- 
 fecting. The reader, therefore, must expect the 
 language to be very broken. 
 
 Lovely. [ With his eyes embossed with tears, to Mr. 
 Worthy. ,] Dear sir, what shall I say to you for ail 
 the great love and kindness with which you have fa- 
 voured us poor outcast strangers, since we have been 
 in these parts ? 
 
 Wo?\ Say, sir; why, nothing. — Don't you think 
 our pleasure has been as great as yours, in being fa- 
 voured with you and Mrs. Lovely as our guests ? 
 
 Lovely. Sir, I cannot teii how perverse and un- 
 
185 
 
 kind I seem to have been in holding such arguments 
 against you and Mr. Lovegood, upon matters, I now 
 find, I so ill understood. 
 
 JVor. Dear sir, you could not have been more 
 perverse than I was, till the grace of God, accom- 
 panying his truth, compelled me to yield. At one 
 time I was so exasperated against Mr. Lovegood, 
 when he first came to be our vicar, that I had a great 
 inclination to write to the bishop against him ; while 
 at another time I found I had more to blame in my- 
 self than in Mr. Lovegood's preaching. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. My dear George, don't be grieved; 
 for I know you did not mean to offend Mr. Worthy, 
 Mr. Lovegood, or any one else by what you said ; 
 and you have often told me so of late; though I 
 was, at times, exceedingly sorry to hear you argue so 
 strenuously for what I then thought you would soon 
 acknowledge to be wrone;. 
 
 Lovely. Yes, my dear, I was wrong ; I am now 
 convinced I was wrong. I am ashamed that 1 have 
 been such a strenuous advocate for such a cause ; 
 and I am grieved at the perverseness with which I 
 carried it on ; but still I would not but have visited 
 Brookiield for ail the world. 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, my dear sir, these controversial 
 conversations, if they deserve that name, as they have 
 been carried on between us, have affected us in a 
 very different point of view. We were happy to find 
 you so inquisitive upon the subject, and that you 
 were so determined to feel your ground every step 
 you trod : it is nothing better than a mark of folly 
 and hypocrisy to yield without conviction. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Why then, dear sir, I am afraid I 
 may not be right ; for 1 plainly saw, what a state of 
 ignorance I was in from the very first time I heard 
 you preach. 
 
 Loveg. My dear madam, you must not admit 
 
 Vol. II. R 
 
186 
 
 such a thought for a moment. Was not Lydia y s 
 heart opened by the Lord the instant she heard the 
 preaching of Paul at Philippi ? I have known some 
 who have drawn the most terrible conclusions against 
 themselves, because they have not felt all those hor- 
 rors of mind, which some may unguardedly speak of, 
 under the first discovery of the evils of their hearts, 
 while, after all, nothing but love converts the soul, 
 and constrains us to obey. 
 
 Lovely. Well, well ; what a providence it was that 
 when we designed to have travelled to Ruckford, we 
 should have missed our way so as to take the road to 
 Mapleton ! But I now trust it was, that we might 
 find our way, to be brought to see what we never 
 might have known, had it not been for this merciful 
 event. Dear sir, let me again ask, what return can 
 I ever make to yourself and family for all your un- 
 common hospitality and kindness ? 
 ^JFor. Sir, it is all settled, if you give us a promise 
 that you will repeat your visit as speedily as you can. 
 
 Mrs, and Miss Wor. And we must insist upon it 
 that you bring Mrs. Lovely with you. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. O madam, to my latest moments, 
 and 1 trust to all eternity, I never shall be able to 
 express the gratitude of my heart for the mercies of 
 this visit. 
 
 Lovely. Ah, madam, my dear wife will never 
 start any objection against that proposal. We were 
 obliged to surmount many difficulties before our 
 union could be accomplished, and now we feel 
 doubly united I cannot doubt but that the reli- 
 gion of the Bible will make us the happiest pair 
 upon earth. [To Mrs. Lovely, taking her by the 
 handr\ My dear, you were right and I was wrong. 
 Forgive me that Thave contradicted you so often ; 
 I am sorry for it. [He stifles his grief ] and addresses 
 Mr. Lovegood.~] Dear sir, I bless God a thousand 
 times that ever I knew you. At first, I confess, I 
 
187 
 
 was very angry with you, because the mind of my 
 dear wife was so much discomposed by what you 
 said. When I think of my inconsiderate conduct it 
 cuts me to the heart. Impute it to my ignorance 
 and forgive me. But I can assure you, I never 
 parted with one I loved so much, since I have seen 
 into the pride and presumption. of my wicked heart. 
 [Mr. Ijovegoody quite overcome by the address, could 
 make no answer, but retired out of the roorn.~\ 
 
 Wor. [To Lovely.^ Sir, your conversation acts 
 too powerfully on the feelings of that good man. 
 
 Lovely. Yes, sir. And it was but a little time 
 ago, that I was jealous and suspicious of every word 
 he said. And what pains I took to persuade my 
 dear wife to leave your house, that I might have 
 her at a distance from hearing those blessed truths, 
 which I now leave with such regret ? But I can- 
 not express what I feel in being deprived of such an 
 instructor, just as I have discovered how ignorant 
 and ill -instructed I have been all the days of my 
 life. This painful circumstance affects me more 
 than I can express. And what a scene will be ex- 
 hibited before me if I find my old uncle on this side 
 of the eternal world, while I feel myself so incapable 
 of instructing him, and he at the same time so unfit 
 to die ! 
 
 ^ Wor. Oh, sir, as your servant is to follow you 
 with your vehicle, he will have room to carry with 
 him some of the publications of our good old divines, 
 such as Hall, Davenant, Usher, Leighton, and other 
 excellent bishops, who were the reaf advocates of the 
 doctrines of the reformation, and others, not less 
 eminent, though less dignified : and let these, dear 
 sir, be your instructors till we see you again : go 
 
 into my library, and pick you out a good lot of 
 them — But I am sorry you have cause to apprehend 
 so much, as it respects the state of your uncle's 
 mind. 
 
188 
 
 Lovely. Oh, sir, I should be ashamed to tell all I 
 know or think of him. [To his rvife.'] My dear 
 creature, what shall we say to him, should we find 
 him alive ? Oh what would I give, if that dear man, 
 who has now left the room, could but go with us ! 
 
 TVor. Why, sir, though we are always very sorry 
 to part with Mr. Lovegood ; yet, for the good of 
 others, I should suppose such an event is by no 
 means impracticable ; and I dare say, if Mr. Love- 
 good can but procure the assistance of Mr. Good- 
 man, who is at present disengaged, having been 
 turned ouL of his curacy by his rector, he, on his 
 own part, will have no objection. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Dear sir, what a joy it would be 
 to us both, to be favoured with such a companion ! 
 As we are all of us but slender, and as we must tra- 
 vel post, we shall find quite sufficient room in the 
 chaise. 
 
 Lovely. Oh sir, if this plan can but be accom- 
 plished, how happy it would make us ! Perhaps 
 Mr. Saveall, the rector of Grediton might lend him 
 his pulpit. I cannot think there are a set of people 
 upon the earth that want such preaching more than 
 them : the town is full of the most wretched worldly- 
 minded misers that ever existed : excepting my dear 
 wife's father, and a very few more, they are almost 
 all alike. 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. Why you know, my dear, if Mr. 
 Saveall won't let Mr. Lovegood preach, your father 
 may succeed with Doctor Nescience, though he 
 would not have so large a congregation in the village 
 of Fairfield. But, oh, how happy should I be, if the 
 people in our parts were but to hear what we have 
 heard since our visit to Brookfieid ! 
 
 Lovely: Ah, my dear, instead of talking about 
 getting pulpits for Mr. Lovegood-, we must first see 
 if we can get Lim to go with us. We shall have no 
 time to accomplish such a plan, unless we set about 
 
189 
 
 it directly ; for though the days are long, yet we 
 have a journey of above sixty miles before us. 
 
 Wor. Then, sir, we must make the more speed, 
 that we may see what can be done ; perhaps we may 
 settle matters in less time than you. think for. [J4r. 
 Lovegood is again immediately called in. ] 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Come, sir, wipe your eyes, and hear 
 the proposal we have to make to you. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I cannot stand it, if Mr. Lovely ad- 
 dresses me in such a manner. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir ; but he is going to address you 
 on another subject, and in another manner. 
 
 Lovely. Will you, my dear sir, go with us to Gre- 
 diton ? 
 
 Mrs. Lovely. O, dear sir ! dont say No. I beseech 
 you, come with us! 
 
 Mr. Loveg. But what must I do about my church? 
 And then there is poor Mrs. Lovegood, and her 
 little ones. 
 
 Wor. Oh, sir ! there is Mr. Goodman, I dare say 
 he is still disengaged ; I'll send a note to him, if 
 you'll write it, and order a man and horse to go with 
 it to Mapleton directly. And as to Mrs. Lovegood, 
 w r e'll be sure to pay her due attendance till your re- 
 turn. Nothing can make these dear young people 
 so happy, as to be favoured with your company. 
 
 Loveg. Really, sir, such a hasty proposal quite 
 staggers me. I feel much inclined to go, but I wish 
 to consider a little. 
 
 Wor. O, sir, for the present you must put consi- 
 deration quite out of the question. These dear 
 young people will want a friend and an adviser with 
 them, and there is no one that can do so well — But I 
 must not say too much before your face. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, you know I cannot be absent above a 
 week or ten days. 
 
 Wor. [To Mr. Lovely. ~\ Sir, that Mr. Lovegood 
 may not interrupt time by his talk, you write a note 
 
 R 2 
 
190 
 
 directly to Mr. Goodman, and request him, in the 
 name of all of us, to serve Mr. Lovegood's church next 
 Sunday : you know him, as he dined with us on Fri- 
 day last, but be sure take care you don't direct it to 
 Mr. Doiittle, or Mr. Spiteful. [They all smile.] 
 
 JLoveg. Dear, sir, you press matters very close 
 upon me ; but will it be worth while to take so long 
 a journey for so short a time? 
 
 Wor. Why suppose you were to be absent two 
 Sundays instead of one, if Mr. Goodman can supply 
 ibr you ; though we are sorry to part with you, yet 
 you n'ever can do good but at one place at the same 
 time. If I had your old honest friend Mr. Slapdash 
 here, I should not have had half the trouble to have 
 persuaded him to take the same journey, under the 
 same providential calls. 
 
 Loveg. Ah, Mr. Slapdash! dear honest man, I 
 know how I want his constitutional zeal. 
 
 Wor. Then borrow some of mine ; you know, at 
 times, a rapid fit overtakes me. Come, come, go 
 home directly to Mrs. Lovegood, pack up your little 
 matters, and by that time my servant will have re- 
 turned with an answer, and depend upon it that all 
 is right in a way of providence, if Mr. Goodman can 
 supply for you till your return : if he cannot, I shall 
 agree with you, that your parochial situation provi- 
 dentially prevents the journey. 
 
 Lovely s. [Both together.'] Oh do, do, dear sir, go 
 home directly, and prepare for the journey ; we 
 don't care if we travel all night, if we can but have 
 you with us. 
 
 Loveg. Well, well, I find I must submit. I'llgohome, 
 and return as soon as I can. The Lord direct us ! 
 
 The dialogue shall conclude with a copy of Mr. 
 Lpvely's note to Mr. Goodman : 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 * c If you can shew the greatest instance of your tru- 
 
191 
 
 ly christian affection to a poor bewildered youth, who 
 begins to find his way out of a labyrinth of errors, 
 through the blessing of God on Mr: LovegoocPs 
 preaching and conversation, may I humbly request 
 you to serve his church for him while he favours me 
 with his presence and pious advice to Grediton, where 
 I am called immediately to attend, by a letter di- 
 rected to be written to me by the dying request of 
 my great uncle. Dear sir, accept this small token * 
 of respect, as you have suffered so much from your 
 virtuous and steady conduct on behalf of our blessed 
 Redeemer's Gospel, 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 With real esteem, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 and humble servant, 
 GEORGE LOVELY." 
 
 Matters were thus speedily settled, Mr. Goodman 
 engaged to supply for Mr. Lovegood, whereby he 
 seemed fully satisfied that he should take the jour- 
 ney. This greatly softened many painful sensations 
 respecting the separation. A few sympathetic tears 
 were indeed dropt between Mrs. Lovely and Miss 
 Worthy, who began to feel themselves as much 
 united as though they had been sisters ; and after all 
 things were thus completely settled, a very appro- 
 priate prayer was offered up, and the following part- 
 ing hymn was sung, which Mr. Lovegood, being 
 possessed of a ready knack of rhyming, gave out as 
 an extempore production on this occasion : 
 
 Holy Saviour ! Israel's guide ! 
 Thee we trust, and none beside : 
 Never let us run astray 
 From thyself, the living way. 
 
 * The present was a two-pound note. 
 
192 
 
 CalPd by thine unerring hand, 
 We would bend to thy command ; 
 Let our willing hearts fulfil 
 All wejknow to be thy will. 
 
 Guarded by the cheerful light 
 Of thy beams, divinely bright, 
 May we tread the paths of peace, 
 Till we reach the realms of bliss ! 
 
 O'er our souls divinely move, 
 Shelter us, thou God cf love : 
 Underneath thy wings may we 
 Love, and serve, and worship thee.. 
 
 Let thy providence direct, ^ 
 Let thy powerful arm protect : 
 Thus our gracious Leader be, 
 While we humbly follow thee. 
 
 Soon after this the chaise drove to the door ; ho- 
 nest Edward, of the Golden Lion, came up with it, 
 that he might take his last farewel of this most plea- 
 sant pair, thanking God that ever he should have 
 been favoured with such guests, and sending after 
 them a thousand blessings wherever they might go. 
 The final salutation between the families next took 
 place, intermixed with many tears ; after which the 
 chaise drove off with its most valuable contents, 
 leaving the writer a little respite till Mr. Lovegood's 
 return from Grediton, when a further narration of 
 events may be expected by the reader. 
 
193 
 
 DIALOGUE XXVII. 
 
 BETWEEN MR. MERRYMAN, MR. LOVEGrOOD* 
 AND THE FAMILY OF ■ THE WORTHYS. 
 
 CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE AWFUL DEATH OF 
 MR. GREEDY, GREAT UNCLE OF MR. LOVELY. 
 
 AN absence of about ten days engaged Mr. Love- 
 good's attention before his return from his ex- 
 cursion with the Lovely s, and, on the morning after 
 his return, he called at Brookfield Hall. 
 \Mr. Worthy meets Mr. Lovegood at the Hall door. ~\ 
 
 JVor. How do you do, my dear sir ? You are wel- 
 come home. Come in ; we have no one in the 
 breakfast room but mv wife and daughter, and Mr. 
 Merryman ; and I am sure they will be all glad to see 
 you. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I hope you are all well. 
 
 Wor. All well, I thank you, sir; but we are a 
 little busy in settling matters previous to the mar- 
 riage of my daughter. Mr. Merryman won't be 
 contented any longer without her. In regard to 
 worldly circumstances, she misiit have met with a 
 more eligible match ; but we shall not thwart the 
 young people in their inclinations. My daughter 
 seems quite in love with him ; in short, we are all in 
 love with him. He is an excellent young man. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, it is very kind of you and Mrs. Wor- 
 thy, not to throw any impediment in their way ; I 
 
194 
 
 have no doubt but that they will be very happy to- 
 gether. 
 
 Wor. Between friends, I don't suppose he will 
 leave our house till he has taken my daughter with 
 him, so that, in a day or two, you will have that of- 
 fice to perform. \They enter the breakfast-room.^ 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Weil, Sir, we are all happy to see you 
 back again : but how did you leave those charming 
 creatures, the Lovely s ? 
 
 Loveg. O, madam! they have been uncommonly 
 agitated by their great uncle's death. 
 
 Wor. Did you find him alive when you arrived? 
 
 Loveg. Madam, he lived four days after we came 
 there. 
 
 Wor. Then you can tell us something about him. 
 
 Loveg. The very recollection of what I have seen 
 and heard, makes me tremble; the horrors of his 
 conscience were inexpressible. 
 
 * Merry m. I should rather have supposed that he 
 would have left the world stupified and senseless, 
 through his great age and weakness. 
 
 Loveg. His faculties seemed to be very little im- 
 paired, indeed ; but the dreadful state of his mind 
 was beyond description. 
 
 Wor. What, was that the case during all his ill- 
 ness? 
 
 Loveg. By what I could learn, he had been very 
 low and dejected for above a month ; though he lived 
 in such a wretched mean way, that no one thought 
 it worth their while to enquire after him, or come to 
 see him. 
 
 Merry m. How then could you get any informa- 
 tion respecting the state of his mind ? 
 
 Loveg. All that we could know about him was 
 from the Doctor, and a poor old woman who waited 
 upon him ; but we had sufficient specimens of the 
 
155 
 
 horrid state of his mind during the four last days of 
 his life. 
 
 Wor. I suppose you called on him directly as you 
 arrived. 
 
 Loveg. No, sir ; we first went to Mr. Commerce, 
 Mrs. Lovely's fflther, who seems to me to be almost 
 the only respectable person in the town. 
 
 Wor. What sort of a town is it then ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I hope there is not such another town 
 to be found : It is filled with the most contemptible 
 set of misers that ever lived. There are in it very 
 large families of the Pinchpoors, the Gripelands, and 
 the Graspalls; the Sharpers, the Closefists, the 
 Hoarders, the Trickers, the Sells, the Squeezers, 
 the Grinders, the Scrapers, the Skinflints, and the 
 Pennymans, the rule of whose family is never to 
 spend a penny if they can save it ; the whole town, 
 almost, has been in the possession of the Greedys for 
 some centuries. In old writings, it was, it "seems, 
 originally called Greedytown, only the inhabitants 
 have softened the name ; and what is still more curi- 
 ous, the family of the Savealls, who are very nume- 
 rous indeed in that town, first got possession of the 
 living so long ago as when such multitudes of mini- 
 sters were ejected from their livings, in the reign of 
 Charles the Second; and so it has been contrived, 
 that the living has continued in the same family ever 
 since. 
 
 Merry m. What a horrid condition the people must 
 be in, while under the care of such a minister ! 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, they are wonderfully pleased with 
 him ; his sort of sermons just suit their taste ; he is 
 always expatiating on the evils of extravagance, on 
 the virtues of forecast and frugality, and on the ex- 
 cellencies and necessity of good economy. 
 
 Wor. How can Mr. Commerce bear to live with 
 such a set ? 
 
196 
 
 JLoveg. Sir, he is very glad he has it to say that 
 his family are not among the natives of the town, 
 though there is some reason to apprehend that he 
 has caught, at least, a little of the contagion belong- 
 ing to the place, (to Mr. Worthy,) I think, Sir, it 
 would kill you, if you were to attempt to live there 
 for a month, it is situated in such a sad cold barren 
 spot ; and though very large, as you may suppose 
 from the families that live in it, yet it is a miserable, 
 mean, dirty looking place. Mr. Lovely's father, • 
 though Fairfield, where he lives, is above six miles 
 from Grediton, can scarcely bear his house while the 
 wind sits that way, it is so very offensive to his con- 
 stitution. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Did Mr. Lovely spend no time at his 
 great uncle's house while you were at Grediton ? 
 
 JLoveg. Why, madam, it is impossible to describe 
 the miserable mean way in which he lived. The 
 bed on which he died, and all the furniture of the 
 room, could not, I am satisfied, have been worth 
 twenty shillings : we were obliged to live entirely 
 with Mr. Commerce. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. But we w r antto know how you got an 
 interview with him. 
 
 Loveg. (Jli, madam, it was with great difficulty, 
 indeed ; for his nephew, the Esquire, as he is called, 
 who lives at Grediton House, the old family seat, 
 about a mile and a half from the town, sent Mr. 
 Quirk, his lawyer, to tell him that, as he was soon 
 likely to die, he wished to die in peace with him. 
 And this was all with a design to get his money 
 from him ; for he was to remind the old man that he 
 was next akin. 
 
 Wor. These tricks are just what I should expect 
 from such a set. 
 
 Loveg. But here, sir, there w 7 as trick upon trick, 
 for before Mr. Quirk performed his oiiice for his 
 
197 
 
 client, he first began tampering with. Mr. Lovely, 
 telling him his errand ; and that if he would only 
 give him a thousand pounds, the will should bejnade 
 entirely in his favour. 
 
 Merry m. I'll engage for it, Mr. Lovely would 
 never submit to such a detestable design. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, before Mr. Lovely went to his great 
 uncle's he told me of the proposal; and we both 
 agreed that such a transaction, for the sake of mo- 
 ney, might justly be deemed a scandalous juggle. 
 
 War. That amiable youth, I believe, would rather 
 suffer any thing than submit to any action which was 
 dirty and unjust; so that here it should appear he was 
 likely to have another sacrifice to make, nearly as 
 costly as the former. 
 
 Loveg. Oh no, sir ; this w r as only a trick of Mr. 
 Quirk's ; for the old man, having had several sharp 
 contests with his nephew, the Esquire, about money 
 matters, was ever determined to make Mr. Lovely 
 his heir. However, I advised Mr. Lovely by no 
 means to suffer Mr. Quirk to go alone to his great 
 uncle, that he might prevent any underhand deal- 
 ings ; so they went both of them together, and Mr. 
 Lovely told me as soon as they entered the room he 
 groaned inexpressibly, and cried — " Oh, nephew ! I 
 must die, I know I must die : and oh, that dreadful 
 moment !" Mr. Quirk then interrupted him, and said 
 Sir, I am come with your nephew, Mr. Greedy 's re- 
 spects, that he hopes you have forgiven him, and 
 that you die in peace with him ; and it is to be hop- 
 ed, sir, according to these principles of mutual for- 
 giveness, you have settled your affairs. He took 
 him up very hastily, and said, ' ' What do you ask me 
 that question for?" Mr. Quirk made answer, that he 
 only wished to remind him, that his nephew was 
 nearer akin than Mr. Lovely. Immediately, though 
 
 Vol. II. S 
 
198 
 
 quite in despair, he swore at him several times, call- 
 ing him rascal, and said that he should leave all to 
 vouno- George. 
 
 Merrym. Could the lawyer stand all this ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he immediately retired, and Mr. 
 Lovely and the old woman were left in the room 
 alone, while he continued cursing the designs of the 
 lawyer in the profanest manner. 
 
 Wor. Was this pi ofane way of talk what he in ge- 
 neral accustomed himseii to? 
 
 Loveg. When he was in a passion, he would at 
 times be very reprobate ; but in general he did not 
 adopt this infernal language. It was, however, a 
 most awful circumstance, that, when the horrors of 
 his conscience were the most dreadful, his language 
 would be the most profane. 
 
 Wor. I fear, then, it was a difficult matter for you 
 to get an introduction to him. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, Mr. Lovely first opened the business 
 by saying, he would wish to introduce to him a cler- 
 gyman of his acquaintance, as he appeared near 
 death. He cried, " What good can such men do for 
 me, many of whom are as wicked as myself?" Mr; 
 Lovely then pleaded for my admission, as being one 
 of a different character; and then he cried, " O 
 God ! could I find the man, though at the distance 
 of a thousand miles, who could quell the hell I feel 
 within, how giadly would I send for him J " Mr. Love- 
 ly kindly answ ered — Sir, if any man upon earth can 
 relieve the agonies of your mind, it is the minister 
 that I now wislryou to see ; and, in consequence of 
 this, I was admitted to see him. 
 
 Wor. I fear it was an awful sight. 
 
 Loveg. The most awful I ever saw. His first 
 speech was — " Sir, if there be an eternal world, you 
 see a wretch sinking into eternal woe." He appeal'- 
 
199 
 
 Gd almost distracted with despair ; the stare of his 
 eyes was most dreadful. 
 
 JVor. How could you answer him in such a state ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, the only remedy you know that can 
 be applied, is the gospel. I told him that all the 
 free mercies of redemption were revealed to penitent 
 believers in the Lord Jesus, and that even these 
 graces, whereby sinners are brought to Christ, are 
 the entire gift of God : and that Jesus Christ had in 
 his heart compassion to the vilest of our race. 
 
 Merry m. And what was his answer ? 
 
 Loveg. He cried—" I have for a long time been 
 endeavouring to think there never was such a person 
 as Jesus Christ ; or that he was some enthusiastical 
 impostor of the day ; for oh, how I have hated his doe- 
 trine, and that of his disciples !"■ Then he paused, 
 and stammered out, from the best of his recollection, 
 these passages from scripture, " Do unto others, as 
 ye would they should do unto you. " — " Love not the 
 world, nor the things that are in the world."—" Co- 
 vetousness, which is idolatry. 5 ' — " If a man see his 
 brother in need, and shut up his bowels of compas- 
 sion, how dwelleth the love of God in him !" He 
 then cried, " O God ! What shall I do, when I am 
 called to stand before such a judge." 
 
 IVor. I fear, then, he had been hardened in his 
 wickedness by the infidel system of the day. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I b- iieve he attempted to stand by it as 
 long as he could : but then, like Voltaire, D'Alem- 
 bert, and many others, he was obliged to give up all 
 his infidel principles before he died. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Well, well ; God give us a religion 
 which will do to live by ; and that will prove the best 
 to die by ! 
 
 Loveg. True, dear madam ; but, from what I 
 could find, he was not a Deist, though I believe, 
 
200 
 
 like all those " who chuse darkness rather than light 
 because their deeds are evil, 5 ' he tried, to the utmost 
 of his power, to be one. 
 
 Merrym. In that respect I was quite like him when 
 I was living in sin ; I could never bear to believe that 
 the Bible was true, and I have wished it false a thou- 
 sand times. 
 
 Loveg. I remember a remark of his on this very 
 subject, which made me shudder. He cried, in his 
 most reprobate language : " How could I fc>£ such 
 a fool, to believe the Bible was lake, only be- 
 cause it threatens eternal damnation against such 
 hard-hearted monsters as myself !" And at another 
 time, he cried — " How must I be hated of Christ, 
 who preached and recommended nothing but mercy, 
 while throughout all my life I have been as cruel as 
 the Devil himself ! " And when I again attempted to 
 tell him of the infinite ability of Christ " to save to 
 the uttermost, 55 he shook \m head, and said, " I have 
 ever hated him, and loved nobody but myself; and 
 now I shall be eternally hated by him." At another 
 time, he cried, " I have lived on earth to starve my 
 body, and oppress the poor, for which I am now go- 
 ing to receive the eternal damnation of my soul." 
 
 Wor. What a proof is this of the hnpoitance of 
 those words, " What shall it profit a man, ii he shall 
 gain the whole world and lose his own soui ; or v, hat 
 shall a man give in exchange for his soul !" 
 
 Loveg. He was made to feel the sting of those 
 words inexpressibly ; v for he said, among other things, 
 f> though there was a time when 1 had almost as soon 
 have parted with my life as my money; vet! oh! 
 what would I not now give, it I could but purchase 
 a short respite from the grave !— lam going, I ieell 
 am going, and I know not where : but, by grasping 
 after earth, I have lost heaven, and must lose them 
 bodi eternally." 
 
201 
 
 Merry m. What a horrid witness this poor wretch- 
 ed creature bore against himself! 
 
 Loveg. The most horrid that can be conceived. 
 Once, it seems, after he had lain some time as in a 
 slumber, though intermixed with sad' ana heavy 
 groans, he was asked if his sleep had not done him 
 some good? He immediately cried — " What rest 
 could I find in sleep, while all the time I thought I 
 was cast u into outer darkness, to be tortured with 
 Devils and damned spirits, where there shall be weep- 
 ing and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, — where the 
 worm dieth not, and where the fire is not quenched. " 
 O, that pit of hell ! I thought I was falling in it, and 
 that I should be falling to all eternity, because it is 
 the pit that is bottomless. Oh that I could but be- 
 lieve what some have said, " Death is an eternal 
 sleep. " 
 
 Wor. What then, could you get him to receive 
 no word of consolation ? 
 
 Loveg. Every word I attempted to put into his 
 mind by way of consolation, he would immediately 
 turn against himself. When I said that though Christ 
 was a tremendous judge to the wicked, yet to the 
 penitent, he would be a most merciful and gracious 
 mediator. He immediately cried u I a penitent! 
 No, my heart is as hard as a stone : I dread Hell, but 
 I cannot repent of sin." " I shall have thousands to 
 witness against me." Then he stammered out — " I 
 was hungered, and ye gave rue no meat : I was 
 thirsty, and ye gave me no drink : I w r as a stranger, 
 and ye took me not in.: naked, and ye clothed 
 me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not." 
 What, then, can screen me from the sentence 1 shall 
 hear so soon : " Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
 everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and Ills an- 
 gels?" 
 
 Mrs. [For. How awfullv he bore witness against 
 
 S 2 
 
202 
 
 himself. But it is remarkable that he should have 
 been able to quote the Scriptures so correctly ; one 
 would have thought that his wickedness would have 
 kept him from reading the Bible. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, madam ! many as wicked as the old 
 Alderman will read the Scriptures if it be only for 
 the sake of turning them into ridicule : but he was to- 
 lerably regular at his church, for that cost him no- 
 thing, and thereby he kept up appearances : and you 
 know there is a deal of Scripture read in our church 
 service : and there he would sit in his Alderman's 
 gown as demure and apparently as devout as if he 
 had been the best christian in the parish. 
 
 Wor. I suppose the Rector would highly compli- 
 ment him on this account. 
 
 Loveg. Mr. Saveall would be frequently saying he 
 was a very good churchman, though a little too mean. 
 
 Wor. Would he suffer you to go to prayer with 
 him before you left him. 
 
 Loveg. Though he seemed to abhor the thoughts 
 of prayer, yet we were determined not to leave the 
 room without it. But how awfully he interrupted 
 us by his screams and exclamations, crying, " O 
 God, what I feel ! I feel Hell already ; the wrath of 
 God abidethon me." So that it appeared in vain to 
 attempt to pray with him. 
 
 . Merry m. What a hopless case ! How could you 
 and Mr. Lovely bear such an awful sight ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, poor Mr. Lovely was almost overset 
 by it, as well as myself. However, after this we de- 
 parted, and repeated our visit the next day. 
 
 Wor. Did he still continue in the same horrid 
 frame of mind? 
 
 Loveg. Not in the least better, and worse he could 
 not be. When his nephew asked him if he had had 
 any sleep, he immediately cried — " Sleep ! how can I 
 sleep, while I have the cries of Farmer Needy 5 s widow 
 
203 
 
 in my ears ; when it was almost but the other day 
 that I stript her of all she had, by enforcing a bond 
 in judgment against her? and what mercy can I ex- 
 pect from God, while I could harden my heart 
 against the widow's cries ; and while her poor daugh- 
 ter was upon her knees, with four of her children, 
 and another at her breast, begging for mercy, as it 
 was her father's long illness, and other misfortunes, 
 and by no means their own neglect, that had plung- 
 ed them into poverty ?" — He paused, and added, yes, 
 I believe I did sleep for about half an hour, and then 
 I thought 1 was the rich man in Hell, lifting up my 
 eyes in eternal torments, crying for a drop of water 
 to cool the tip of my tongue : and while I thought 
 how grievously I was tormented in that flame, I 
 awoke," — It seems scarcely possible that any one 
 could live in a more dreadful state of despair. 
 
 Wor. I should suppose these keen and cutting re- 
 flections against himself arose from many other in- 
 stances of his oppressive conduct, besides that which 
 you have mentioned before. 
 
 Loveg. O, sir; he began repeating several of 
 them. One, I remember was, that when a man, 
 though but in poor circumstances, left him in his 
 will five pounds for some law expences, he being 
 the maker of the will, inserted, in the room of it 
 fifty pounds. Thus the man, being too far gone 
 through illness to attend to his tricks, gave away half 
 as much as he had in the world, from his poor rela- 
 tions. But how terribly he cried out on account of 
 his cruel conduct against one Isaac Careful, a tenant 
 of his, whom he sent to gaol because he would not 
 give up a few trifling leaseholds which were settled 
 upon his wife and children, though he oniy was re^ 
 duced to poverty by a loss through fire, and was in 
 himself a verv industrious man? 
 
204 
 
 Wor. How could Mr. Lovely bear to hear him 
 relate his horrid tricks ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I never saw a poor youth so agitated 
 in my life- His dreadful cries, at intervals, against 
 himself, and concerning the agonies of his conscience, 
 were most tremendous. When I once said, sir, 
 yet there may be hope; he cried, " O God! (which 
 was his common exclamation,) it is impossible — I 
 am sure it is impossible — and I am as sure to be m 
 Hell as if I was there already ; and the smoke of my 
 torment will be ascending up for ever and ever. " Just 
 about that time the nurse stirred the fire ; and as it 
 began to blaze, he cried — " What would I give, 
 if I might but burn on that fire for ten thousand 
 years, so as to escape the eternal damnation of my 
 soui ! 
 
 Miss Wor. Dear sir ! his expressions are so un- 
 commonlv dreadful, that I fear I must quit the room 
 if I hear any more of them, it makes me so nervous. 
 
 Merrym. Why, my dear Miss Worthy, we may 
 profit by these alarming lessons, as well as by others 
 which are grateful and pleasing. What a wonderful 
 contrast between the death of poor Mr. Chipman, 
 and that of this old miser ! 
 
 Wor. Well, for the sake of my daughter, and in- 
 deed on account of all our feelings, I shall only ask if 
 he said any thing better in his last moments before 
 his dissolution. 
 
 Lav eg. Sir, I was not then in the room, but it 
 seems for the two last days he was in a measure 
 senseless : ' still he groaned horribly, frequently add- 
 ing that most profane expression, which wq so 
 commonly hear > — " D — n it, that ever I was 
 born!" and when the nurse, who attended him, a 
 little aroused him, by wiping the phlegm from his 
 mouth which prevented his breathing, he used the 
 
205 
 
 same horrible expression, adding, u — what are 
 you at?" Soon afterwards he died; and these, it 
 ssems, were the last words he ever uttered in life. 
 Oh, what horrid expressions for a dying man ! It is 
 enough to chill one's very blood. 
 
 Wor. Was Mr. Lovely with him when he died ? 
 
 Loveg. No, sir ; his uncle's language was so dread- 
 ful and profane, that he quite swore him out of the 
 room. What lie said was -afterwards reported to 
 him by the nurse he sent to attend hini. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Had he any desire to see Mrs. Lovely? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he asked for her several times, but we 
 always made an excuse for her, saying her nerves 
 were too weak to see him, unless he should get a 
 little better, or should be more composed. 
 
 Merry m. Well, I am sure we have heard enough 
 of Mr. Greedy ; it is high time that we should now 
 hear something of the Lovely s. \Enter servant. ~\ 
 
 Servant. Sir, Farmer Till has brought the horse, 
 if your honour would choose to look at him, 
 
 Wor. [7b Mr. Alerryman."] Why, sir, as you are 
 about to take my daughter away with you, I thought 
 I would buy her a horse, that you may have no ex- 
 case for not riding over frequently from Sandover, 
 when you are settled there. 
 
 Merrym. Sir, you are exceeding kind ; but we 
 should mostly come over in our one-horse chaise. 
 
 Wor. Yes, but exercise on horseback is both plea- 
 sant and healthy. I would have my daughter keep 
 on horseback as much as she can. I must request 
 you, Mr. Merryman, to come and see how you like 
 the horse ; I suppose in your gay days you used to 
 attend much to the make and shape of a horse. 
 
 Merrym. Ah, sir, much more than ever I did to 
 the meaning of my Bible. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, we will not keep the farmer wait- 
 
206 
 
 ing : we may as well all go and take a view of the 
 horse, and resume the subject on our rettirn. Besides, 
 I think we all need a little relaxation after this dread- 
 ful account of old Greedy 's death. 
 
 As Mr. Merryman's observations on the horse, 
 relating to its beauties, its defects, its gift of move- 
 ing, its price, Sec. would be very uninteresting, the 
 subject will be discontinued till the next Dialogue, 
 when a much a more pleasing narration will be pre- 
 sented to the reader. 
 
297 
 
 DIALOGUE XXVIII. 
 
 BETWEEN MR. LQVEGOOD, MR. MERRYMAN, 
 AND THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS. 
 
 BENEVOLENCE AND HUMANITY DISPLAYED IN THE PER- 
 SON AND CHARACTER OF MR. LOVELY, WITH THE CHA- 
 RACTER OF DOCTOR NESCIENCE. 
 
 THE horse-dealing business having been settled, 
 the family returned, and the Dialogue recom- 
 menced. 
 
 Worthy. I suppose the old miserly uncle left the 
 Loveiys a fine penny. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, they say he has hoarded up for him 
 full three thousand pounds a year. ** 
 
 JVor. Is it possible ? 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir ; and his original fortune was but 
 two thousand pounds, which he had when he first 
 came of age ; and an old aunt (a Mrs. Pincher, it 
 seems) soon afterwards left him another thousand 
 pounds, all the rest he has been accumulating by 
 hoarding interest upon interest, by his profession, by 
 procuring for himself legacies, where he thought 
 they would answer his end better than his fees, and 
 a hundred dirty tricks besides. He was the most 
 complete money -jobber in the kingdom. 
 
208 
 
 Miss Wor. Poor honest Thomas Newman is a 
 much richer man than old lawyer Greedy ever was. 
 
 Merry m. And I really think he keeps a better 
 house. 
 
 Loveg. I am sure he keeps a cleaner house : it is a 
 good old proverb, " Cleanliness is next to godliness. " 
 How that filthy old creature could live so long, and 
 in so mi£h dirt and poverty, is a matter of surprise to 
 me ; for he had turned eighty-one before he died. 
 
 Wor. Well, I can suppose he might have died 
 worth all that property, when one considers what a 
 length of time he had to make his hoard ; for it 
 seems he was always getting and saving, and never 
 spending. But I had much rather hear how Mr. 
 Lovely is like to spend it, than how that wretched 
 miser contrived to get it. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, the old man left a very correct sche- 
 dule of his possessions behind him, which Mr. Quirk 
 artfully wanted to secrete. I immediately advised 
 him to send for one honest lawyer, who lives a few 
 miles out of that town, — Mr. Justice ; for I am sure 
 the Grediton lawyers are such a set as I never heard 
 of before ; they w r ere mostly tutored under old Gree- 
 dy ; and I believe Mr. Justice vail prove 'a very up- 
 right agent to that excellent young man. 
 
 Wor. Well, well, there are good and bad of all 
 professions. But that amiable youth must feel this 
 an astonishing reverse of fortune. 
 
 Loveg. Y^s, sir ; and, by the grace of God, I have 
 a good hope, he will be enabled to carry this full cup 
 of worldly prosperity with an even and a cautious 
 hand. Before he opened his uncle's will, he begged 
 I would go to prayer. The will contained nothing 
 but that his nephew was to possess ail, with no other 
 legacy than a pitiful five pounds a year to the old 
 woman (one Betty Farthing) who occasionally waited 
 upon him ; allowing but fifteen pounds for his fu • 
 
269 
 
 nerai; which he thought might be sufficient, as he 
 had preserved two large oaken planks from a car- 
 penter by way of fees, out of which he directed his 
 coffin should be made, and that his old morning, 
 gown should save the expence of a shroud: so 
 that his covetous purposes followed him to the very 
 grave. 
 
 Merrym. How could Mr. Lovely follow his direc- 
 tions, as it respected the abominable mean way of his 
 interment ? 
 
 JLoveg. Oh, sir, he ordered the oaken boards to be 
 nailed together, and made into a decent coffin, sent 
 for an undertaker, told him that though only fifteen 
 pounds were allowed for the funeral ; yet that he 
 should make him a present of fifteen more, if it was 
 necessary, for his own trouble, provided lie would see 
 to a plain, decent, but not mean interment of his 
 uncle; as he must directly go to his father's at Fair- 
 rield, and should not himself attend the funeral. 
 Thus matters were understood and settled between 
 the undertaker and Mr. Lovely, and the old miser 
 was decently interred, if you can call it a decent bu- 
 siness, when there was such an horrid uproar made, 
 while the bearers carried him to the grave. 
 
 Merrym. Astonishing ! Did they insult the corpse 
 of the old man while they carried it to the church- 
 yard, and among a set of people so much like him- 
 self? 
 
 IjQveg. Several insulting speeches were actually 
 thrown out, even by the miserable inhabitants of 
 that place, as the funeral went along. One cried, 
 " The Devil has been grinding him before now, for 
 grinding the face of the poor.' 5 Another exclaimed, 
 " The Devil has sent for his beloved son, old Greedy, 
 and that he had got him at last :" and many more: 
 such speeches were made. 
 
 Merrym. It must have been rather a painful ch% 
 
 Vol. II. T 
 
210 
 
 cumstance to Mr. Lovely, to possess a fortune pro- 
 cured by such abominable means. 
 
 Loveg. Though I believe the old lawyer's plan was 
 to get money by all means, whether fair or foul ; yet 
 what was obtained by oppression andwTong was but 
 an inconsiderable part, when compared to what he 
 had accumulated by the mere art of hoarding. But 
 directly as he had run over the schedule of his uncle's 
 affairs, he cried, " Blessed be God, I find I shall 
 have quite enough to make restitution where needed, 
 to assist the poor, to shew some tokens of respect to 
 my relations, and to enjoy all the comforts and con- 
 veniences of life I could wish for my dearest Ann 
 and myself: and O, may I spend the rest to the 
 glory of God!" 
 
 Merrym. Restitution was therefore, it seems, the 
 first thing he thought of. 
 
 Loveg. Yes ; and the first thing he practised. He 
 is a youth of a most admirable mind ; for the first 
 action was to restore the fifty pounds procured by the 
 will of the poor man, fraudulently made by his un- 
 cle ; and though he found the surviving family had 
 risen since then, which was full twelve years ago, 
 into very decent circumstances, yet nothing would 
 content Mr. Lovely, till he had made restitution ; as 
 he said he never could be happy to retain that sum 
 in his possession which he had no right to call his 
 own. 
 
 Wor. This was a noble beginning ! 
 
 Loveg. But the next action was more noble still ; 
 for he could not rest till he had found out the family 
 of the Needy s, which the uncle Jhad so cruelly ruined* 
 about four years before his death ; and he found that 
 they were removed from the parish of Grediton into 
 their own parish, by one of the overseers, whose name 
 was Pinchpoor ; lest they should become chargeable 
 fo them, after the vile old miser had stript them of 
 
211 
 
 their all. Mr. Lovely went and enquired of Mr. 
 Pinchpoor about them, and found that he had sent 
 them into the neighbouring parish of Starvington. 
 The family, consisting of the mother, her daughter, 
 her husband, and five small children, harboured in a 
 miserable cottage, though in as good a plight as could 
 be expected, their great poverty being taken into 
 consideration; almost all their subsistence arising 
 from the earnings of the husband, who was now only 
 a day-labourer, the spinning of the children, and the 
 parish scanty allowance of eighteen pence a week to 
 the poor widow. % 
 
 Merrym. Oh, this was charming ! and I'll warrant 
 he relieved them liberally. Did he take you with 
 him on this errand ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he would go no where without me. 
 He is become astonishingly -affectionate ; and it was, I 
 think, one of the most impressive scenes I ever be- 
 held. When" he first came into the house and saw 
 their poverty, he gave half a crown each to three of 
 the poor children, who were then at home ; and as 
 he was entirely unknown to them, he asked the 
 question as though he was ignorant of it himself, 
 how they came to be driven out of their little farm 
 after the husband's death ; and a dreadful story it 
 was : for it appeared, that while the mere loan of a 
 few pounds, during the hours of their calamity, 
 might have kept them up, the miser's hard hand of 
 oppression completely threw them down. After Mr. 
 Lovely had heard their tale, he stifled his grief, 
 called me out, and gave vent to the feelings of his 
 mind; while he wept plentifully over the miseries of 
 the family his uncle had brought to ruin. After he 
 had consulted with me on the most eligible way of 
 their relief, he returned, He then told them who he 
 was, and that he was now possessed of ail his great 
 uncle's property ; tfyat he was quite grieved zX heart 
 
212 
 
 on account of what had past, and was now deter- 
 mined to wipe the tear from the widow's eye, while 
 he should esteem it a call in providence to superin- 
 tend the good of the family as a father and a friend : 
 and then a second time he began to weep. Imme- 
 diately he took ten guineas put of his pocket for their 
 present wants, arid promised them half a guinea a 
 week till he could provide better for them in seme 
 little farm that might belong to him, as soon as there 
 was a vacancy, provided they proved industrious 
 and worthy of his attention. 
 
 Merrym. Sir, co^d you stand all this ? 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, sir, I could not ; my spirits were 
 so overcome by it, that I was obliged to leave the 
 house a second time ; and while I was giving way to 
 my feelings, in came the honest man fi om^his day- 
 labour. He was not only much surprised to see me 
 so affected at the door of the cottage ; but when he 
 came in, he had to behold his wife and children sur- 
 rounding Mr. Lovely as in an ecstacy, and the old 
 woman in tears, and on her knees, blessing God for 
 such unexpected mercies. He wondered for awhile 
 what could be the cause. At one time he thought 
 that some cruel bailiff had entered the house on ac- 
 count of a few trifling debts, which had remained 
 on his wife's father's account ; but when he began 
 to hear the true story, who Mr. Lovely was, and on 
 what errand he came, with his eyes lifted up, and 
 his hands clasped together, he stood quite motion- 
 less. Just then I returned into the house — I never 
 saw such a scene in all my life. 
 
 IFor. This I call the luxury of doing good. It 
 may easily be decided who felt the greatest happiness, 
 the, old miser in grasping after this money, or the ne- 
 phew in giving it away. 
 
 Loveg. Ah, sir, but his most delightful conduct 
 towards the man his great uncle sent to gaol, poor 
 
213 
 
 Isaac Careful, because he would not resign the pro- 
 perty of his wife and children, was, if possible, still 
 more affecting and noble. 
 
 Miss JVor. Oh, dear sir, do let us hear it. 
 
 Loveg. Why, madam, the anxiety of his mind, on 
 that occasion, was beyond all expression. The day 
 after the funeral he ordered two post-chaises ; he 
 and Mrs. Lovelv went in one chaise, I and Mr. Jus- 
 tice in the other, to the county gaol, ten miles from 
 Grediton. Mr. Justice was directed to enter into con- 
 versation with him, while Mr. and Mrs. Lovely sat 
 by as entire strangers. After he had heard but a 
 part of the story, he cried — Oh, Mr. Justice, let me 
 hear no more : he must be discharged immediately. 
 The man cried, What can all this mean ? Why, re- 
 plied Mr. Justice, it means that Mr. Lovely, who 
 possesses the late Mr. Greedy ? s fortune, will hayeyou 
 discharged directly, that you may see your wife and 
 family before sun-set. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Oh, what delightful tidings to a poor 
 prisoner, confined at a distance from his wife arid 
 family ! surely he must have been quite overcome 
 by it! 
 
 Loveg. For a while it entirely overset him. For 
 immediately he fixed his eyes on Mr. Lovely, and 
 almost directly afterwards quite fainted away with 
 surprise and joy, and it was some time before he : 
 recovered, Mr. Lovely next gave the keeper five 
 guineas, to be distributed among the most neces- 
 sitous of the prisoners, begging, at the same time, 
 that I might be permitted to drop among them a word 
 of exhortation, for their general good. This ofiice 
 I performed with a considerable degree of difficu y, 
 being so much affected at the scene which was b;i re 
 me ; nor were most of my miserable hearers le;>: 5 , f- 
 iected than ourselves: and while I was offering- up a. 
 
 T 2 
 
214 
 
 concluding prayer, especially for the p6or man who 
 Was the object of such providential mercy from the 
 kind hand of Mr. Lovely ; spiritualizing it at the same 
 time, that every poor prisoner might seek for the 
 gracious and delivering mercy of our Lord Jesus unto 
 eternal life : and it is amazing what a many tears were 
 shed among them. 
 
 JVor. Nothing melts and conquers like love ! 
 
 JLoveg. That has been proved to us by the love of 
 Christ. But, oh, to see the countenance of the poor 
 prisoner just brought again to the enjoyment of his 
 liberty by that most delightful young man, as he 
 walked from the prison to the inn, and the attention 
 of Mr. Lovely in first ordering him such a meal as he 
 had not tasted for many a long day before ; and then 
 sending to a ready-made clothes shop, that his pre- 
 sent garments might be changed for a decent suit. 
 Oh, sir ! how he looked ; how he wept ; how he re- 
 joiced ; how he talked, during all these most pleasing 
 and generous circumstances on his behalf! 
 
 Mcrrym. Blessed God ! what a delightful scene 
 was this ! But it seems you all made quick w T ork of 
 the business, if, according to promise, the poor man 
 was with his wife and family by sun-set. 
 
 JLoveg. Sir, you know the days aie yet long, and 
 all matters were settled for our return in about two 
 hours and a half ; and then we drove off with this rich 
 booty of humanity, so well calculated to feast the 
 mind of this admirable youth. Mr. and Mrs. Lovely 
 took me with them in their chaise, and Mr. Justice 
 and the poor man followed in the other. 
 
 Wor. [_To Mrs. Worthy.] My dear, what makes 
 you weep ? 
 
 Mrs Wor. As a mother and a parent myself, hew 
 it strikes me, what must poor CarefuPs wile have felt 
 binder such an interposition of divine providence : 
 
215 
 
 Oh, how delightfully surprised she must have been 
 on his unexpected arrival ! was it not quite too much 
 for her ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, madam, that matter was left to me, 
 to soften as well as I could ; but still the consequences 
 were attended with very powerful effects. 
 
 Wor. Come, my dear, wipe your eyes ! let us see 
 if we cannot attend to them. How did you break 
 matters to the family ? 
 
 Loveg. I first went to their house, which is near a 
 mile from Grediton, made an excuse for taking the 
 liberty to rest myself, as the day had been very hot ; 
 then I began talking to them about the death qf old 
 lawyer Greedy. At once the woman began in the 
 severest language, execrating his horrid memory, 
 and especially his cruelty against them. 1 endea- 
 voured to correct her vehemence ; and then asked 
 her if she had heard of young Mr. Lovely, who had 
 succeeded to all his wealth. She immediatelv cried. 
 Yes, she had heard he was a very gc>od sort of a 
 young gentleman, and that she was advised to pre- 
 sent a petition to him on the behalf of herself and 
 family, if she could get any one to draw it up, that 
 her poor husband might be released from gaol. I told 
 her she need not do that, as he was released already. 
 She. said, " Surely you joke." I answered, " It is 
 bo joke ; but ii you will promise me to be mild and 
 calm, as all earthly blessings are uncertain, I could 
 tell you the particulars of that joyful event." And 
 when I came to relate that part of the story, how 
 Mr. Lovely himself had even gone to bring her hus- 
 band that day out of gaol, and that he was now at 
 Grediton, at the sign of the Three Misers, -the prin- 
 cipal inn in that town, and he would be with her in 
 about an hour, the transport of her joy was exces- 
 sive. 
 
216 
 
 Jiiss TVoi\ How could the poor woman support 
 herself under such happy and unexpected news ? 
 
 Loveg. Oh madam, she was all ecstacy : at one 
 time she was upon her knees ; then her hands were 
 lifted up with surprise ; then she ran hither and thi- 
 ther about the house like one distracted. Immedi- 
 ately she begged, above all things, that she might 
 go directly to see her husband, and bring him 
 home ; and I found her raptures were so great, that 
 it was impossible to keep her back, and two of the 
 children were as eagerjy determined to attend her. 
 
 Merry m. What a meeting that must have been ! 
 
 Loveg, A meeting, indeed ! much more affecting 
 than the former. The woman ran into the inn like 
 one distracted. As to conversation, it was all inter- 
 rupted by the vehemence of excessive joy between 
 them both, and the two eldest children. For it seerns 
 the family, though in a poor way, lived very happy 
 together till old Greedy sent the poor man to gaol, 
 because he did not choose to resign the property of 
 his wife and children into his rapacious hands. 
 
 TFor. Had they nothing to say to their kind de- 
 liverer ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, the dear young man could not stand 
 it any longer ; he was so affected at these delightful 
 consequences of his benevolence, that he ran out of 
 the room almost directly ; especially when they be- 
 gan personally to thank him for his immediate and 
 great attention to their misery ; he therefore called 
 me out, and took a twenty-pound bank note from his 
 old uncle's hoard, telling me to give it them for their 
 immediate necessities ; and as the scene was too 
 much for him, he begged they would go home for 
 the present, and that he should send to inquire after 
 them on some future day. 
 
 JFor. I'll engage for it, such a scene as that had 
 
217 
 
 not been exhibited in that inn before, for many a long 
 day. 
 
 ~Loyeg. Oh, sir, Mr. Hoarder himself, the land- 
 lord of the Three Misers, though one of the real na- 
 tives of the town, for once felt so much of the tender 
 emotions of humanity, that he could not help drop- 
 ping a tear with others ; and what was more asto- 
 nishing still, could even call the family into the 
 kitchen, and give them a good dinner without any 
 charge, though Mr. Lovely had before ordered them 
 a dinner' on his own account. 
 
 Wor. That wretch has a hard heart whose eye ne- 
 ver started the tear of compassion over human woe ! 
 
 Loveg. True, sir; but there are many such wretches 
 in the world, especially at Grediton. 
 
 Miss TVor. Oh, me ! what a delightful sight this 
 must have been, and yet how affecting ! 
 
 TVor. [To his daughter, ,] My dear Eliza, may you 
 and your dear intended, who is now with us, live to 
 see many such delightful sights exhibited towards 
 numbers of our fellow creatures ! I shall be very 
 glad to help you out on all such occasions as far as 
 my fortune will allow ; and it is not wise to go be- 
 yond it, even in doing good. 
 
 Loveg. Ah, dear young Mr. Lovely, I wish he 
 was here to take your wise hint, and not go fester 
 than he can hold on ; for directly as he had opened 
 the will, and found what he was worth, he cried \ 
 " And why should I have all, and my dear sisters have 
 nothing, who are as near akin as myself — I'll send 
 each of them a thousand pounds. My uncle's will 
 was not a just one." I immediately added, "Probably 
 not, dear sir ; but then it will be publickly known 
 that he has left you in possession of all his large 
 hoard ; and while you live, the public will expect 
 from you what is suitable to such a fortune; let me 
 give you my advice — do not spend the capital, but 
 
218 
 
 be liberal with the product ; and at all times be fru- 
 gal at home, that you may be liberal abroad. Thus, 
 dear sir, you will had it in your. power to be liberal 
 all the days of your life." I urged also, that all of 
 his sisters were in decent circumstances, and that 
 two of them, who were married* were even affluent ; 
 that if, by an}' reverse of fortune, his liberal designs 
 should be found necessary, it would then become him 
 to assist with a generosity equal to his fortune. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, this was good advice, did he act 
 upon it ? 
 
 Loveg. He said he was determined to present them 
 with a thousand pounds, to be divided between 
 them as a compliment for mourning, and that he 
 would take other matters into further consideration ; 
 though since then I have found he sent each ox them 
 a thousand pounds : but, oh, the heaps of applications 
 he had from almost every quaiter, alter these lew in- 
 stances of his liberal spirit had got wind. 
 
 Wor. Alas, alas, as soon as a man of generosity is 
 found, what wretched ha; pie- lie is sure to have, alter 
 him! Direetiy when he has relieved the really ne- 
 cessitous, mul of the hypocritical and worth- 
 less will be 't fiiid m out, that they m; y pur- 
 take of tl ty he preserves for others ; and it is 
 a thousand times better to submit to imposition than 
 relax in our generosity. But what did he do with 
 these applicants ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I advised him to refer them all to his 
 agent; and notwithstanding most of them were very 
 futile, having nothing to complain of but hard bar- 
 gains, yet he parted with pot less than eight hundred 
 pounds to satisfy their demands. 
 
 JVor. I fear this delightful young man will be 
 sadly taken in, unless he is upon his guard. 
 
 Loveg. Why soon after he had given away fifty 
 pounds to one family, he found he was completely 
 
219 
 
 swindled out of it; and I was scarcely sorry for it, as 
 it may teach him a good lesson ; he thinks all the 
 world are as upright as himself. 
 
 Wor. I believe, with you, this might prove a good 
 lesson to this sweet-minded youth : how happy 
 should I be if he lived nearer to these parts, that I 
 might give him the best advice in my power ! 
 
 Loveg. Sir, his wishes thoroughly correspond with 
 yours. 
 
 Mrs. War. I am sure they thoroughly correspond 
 with mine. 
 
 Loveg. Why, madam, he says the air of Grediton 
 will never agree with his constitution ; he exceed- 
 ingly longs to find a habitation somewhere near these 
 parts, especially while his father lives ; though his 
 mother seems somewhat more reconciled to him, 
 since his old uncle has left him such a large portion 
 of money and estates. 
 
 Merrym. But, sir, could Mr. Lovely prevail on 
 Mr. Suveail to lend you the pulpit for the Sunday ? 
 
 Loveg. Oh no, sir ; there was plenty of objec- 
 tions started against that attempt. First, he said, he 
 did not see the use of paying another for doing his 
 duty for him, as he could do it himself. And when 
 that difficulty was obviated, that no money would 
 be needed; the next was, that " it was very wrong 
 to encourage a modern set of ministers to do duty for 
 nothing, when " the labourer is worthy of his hire." 
 
 Merrym. Yes ; and that is the way these hirelings 
 pervert the word of God. He forgot to quote how 
 happy Paul and the rest of the Apostles were, when 
 they had it in their power to preach Christ, without 
 being burdensome to the people. 
 
 Wor. Ah, that doctrine stands in a part of the 
 Bible they don't want to read. But what other ob- 
 jections could he have ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, that I could be so weak as to go 
 
2.20 
 
 gadding about with that young man who was so 
 foolish as to spatter about his money, which Mr. 
 Alderman Greedy had collected together with so 
 much frugality ; and that this was bringing a sad 
 disgrace on the memory of the worthy Alderman, 
 who was the father of the corporation ; though he 
 rather thought, in some instances of frugality, he 
 might have overshot the mark. And further, thai at 
 & private meeting of the corporation over a di- 
 spirits, sheep's trotters, and other such rarities, 
 (though while they could feast themselves at the 
 public expence they were liberal enough:) Mr. Fru- 
 gal, the present mayor, agreed thai Mr. Lovely's 
 conduct was an unpardonable offence. Alderman 
 Stingey was also of the same opinion, and Mr. Close- 
 fist, the town-cierk, entirely agreed wiih them ; 
 though Mr. Closefist, at times, it\seems, affects even 
 to be generous, and boasts of his numerous applica- 
 tions ; and now and then gives away a trifle ; as he 
 finds it for his interest to be liberal, that thereby he 
 may net only avail himself of the custom of the 
 people of the town, but take in those also that are 
 not among its original natives. He is of the iarniiy 
 oi the Longheads, and is himself supposed to be one 
 of the most long-headed of any of that famous fa- 
 miiy : he is a poor, thin-looking fellow, anu seems 
 to be made up of nothing but low cunning and mean 
 designs. 
 
 Wor. What a strange set of them they all are ? 
 However, between them all, it seems you were to be 
 kept out of the puipit. I wonder you were not al- 
 most determined to act like our good olci reformation 
 bishops, and preach out in the street, upon this text, 
 " Ye cannot serve God and mammon. 55 
 
 Loveg. I don 5 t know what my dear honest friend 
 Mr. Si pdash might have done, had he been in my 
 situation. 
 
221 
 
 Merry m. I am sure you shewed very little of your 
 constitutional timidity when you preached your vi- 
 sitation sermon ; but it is a terrible calamity, that 
 people should be left in such a state, and with such 
 a teacher, to keep them all quiet and contented in 
 their sins. 
 
 Loveg. Why, Mr. Lovely atone time thought of 
 hinting it to Mr. Saveall, that if he would let Mr. 
 Goodman be the curate, he would secretly pay the 
 salary for him ; but his pride and enmity will never 
 let him submit to that. At another time he thought 
 of building them a chapel, and sending some good 
 man to preach among them ; but it is a sad soil for 
 the gospel ; the cares of the world would be very 
 apt to choke the seed in that tow T n. 
 
 Merrym. Did you preach no where on the Sun- 
 day ? 
 
 Loveg. Oh yes, sir, I went to Fairfield with Mr. 
 Lovely to see his father, who seems to be one of a 
 very excellent mind and temper, and he obtained 
 leave of the pulpit from Dr. Nescience at a word ; 
 for it seems they at once put me into his good graces 
 by saying I was a man of learning, and this pleased 
 him hugely. Poor thing ! he happens to be one of 
 the most stupid, conceited pedants I ever met with 
 in my life. 
 
 Wor. -Had you an interview with him ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, Mr. Lovely's father invited him to 
 sup with us ; and at once he began saying how de- 
 lighted he was to be acquainted with men of learn - 
 ing, and how glad he should be if I had but time to 
 see some of his animadversasions, as he called them, 
 on the book of Tobit, and on Beii and the Dragon, 
 which he meant to publish ; but that now the world 
 was grown so ignorant that he could find no printer 
 who would venture to undertake the work. 
 
 Wor. Why to be sure the little Doctor is half mad. 
 
 Vol. II. U 
 
222 
 
 Loveg. Quite so, I should rather apprehend, if 
 what some have observed be true, " A little learning 
 makes a man mad, while a deal of it will bring him 
 back again into his senses." But with what^asto- 
 nishing rapidity he ran on, with his curious ex- 
 pressions, and hard words ! many of which he mur- 
 dered as bad^as the former. However, in the course 
 of his conversation, I found he had been a great stu- 
 dent in all the whimsical nonsense that had found its 
 way into the world through the crazy brains of Ja- 
 cob Behmen, Count Swedenburgh, and others, by 
 which means he had almost been deprived of the 
 small share of sense that nature had bestowed upon 
 him. And one night, they say, while he was sitting 
 up, reading these visionary authors, he was over- 
 taken with the cramp, upon which he immediately 
 ran up stairs to Mrs. Nescience, crying that he was 
 sure he was bewitched. 
 
 Wor. How in the world could you answer this 
 whimsical Doctor ? 
 
 * Loveg. Sir, it was impossible to answer him ; down- 
 right nonsense never can be answered ; so that I did 
 nothing but hum and hah, and say yes, and no, 
 while Mr. Lovely did all in his power to put another 
 turn upon the conversation. 
 
 Merrym. But, sir, how did it fare with you on the 
 Sunday ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, during the summer months it seems 
 they have two sermons, and I thought I should have 
 been permitted to preach them both ; but after he 
 had heard my morning sermon, urging the necessity 
 of a divine change, and recommending, according to 
 the best of my ability, the need of a personal appli- 
 cation to our Lord Jesus Christ, that this blessed work 
 might be accomplished through the operation of 
 his Holy Spirit ; the little Doctor skipt about in his 
 gown and cassock like '& jampi?ig joan, saying, that 
 
223 
 
 with my leave, he should preach in the afternoon, 
 and that he was sure he could confute all I had said 
 in the morning ; for that Jie could not bear to hear the 
 true religion he preached contradicted before all 
 the people. 
 
 JVor. You were under the necessity, consequently, 
 of giving up the point. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir ; I told him I should be open to 
 conviction, and said how willing I should be to- read 
 prayers for him, as, in reading them, I was satisfied 
 I should neither wound my conscience, nor contra- 
 dict my sermon. , * 
 
 Merr. And what sort of a sermon did he give you? 
 < Loveg. Oh, sir, Mr. Lovely's father remembers 
 that the little doctor had given it them three or four 
 times before. 
 
 If or. What was the substance of it ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, first he began stammering and stut- 
 tering over a few lines, which he went home pur- 
 posely to compose, by way of prefixing a few new 
 thoughts as a preface to his old sermon ; and though 
 these were written down, yet he was so terribly out 
 of temper from what he had heard in the morning, 
 that he appeared much more like a man bewitched 
 than when he was seized with the cramp. 
 
 Wor. Do let us hear the drift of the Doctor's ser- 
 mon. I'll warrant it was a curious performance. 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, sir, it was. He first pretended 
 to prove that we were all made Christian's by bap- 
 tism. Then that we were confirmed in our Chris- 
 tianity, when we were confirmed by the bishop. 
 And lastly, we were perfected in our Christianity 
 by receiving the holy sacrament : and this, he said, 
 was better than the strange notions that some people 
 were fond of preaching up about regeneration and 
 inspiration, which, he said, must be all false doc- 
 trine; because that, if we were inspired, we could 
 
224 
 
 work miracles; making no difference between the 
 extraordinary operations of the divine Spirit, and the 
 implantation of the divine nature, which must exist 
 in every real Christian to the latest ages of the 
 
 world. 
 
 Merrym. One wonders that people can be so ig- 
 norant as to suppose that a mere outward ordinance, 
 however good in its place, will do as a substitute 
 for that new and divine nature mentioned so fre- 
 quently in the word of God. 
 
 Loveg. Why, sir, I was told by Mr. Lovely, that 
 when the Doctor had to preach the visitation sermon 
 before the bishop, he outdid all the nonsense that 
 ever was exhibited before in a pulpit, 
 
 Merrym. What was the specimen of divinity he 
 exhibited on that occasion ? 
 
 Loveg. It may be necessary that you should first 
 hear the text before I tell you the application of it : 
 " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual bless- 
 ings in heavenly places in Christ." Eph. i. 3. 
 
 Merrym. In the name of wonder, and of common 
 sense, what could he, what could any man make out 
 from that text, but to exemplify the high state of 
 spirituality to which believers are called by the 
 grace and spirit of the gospel ? 
 
 Loveg. In these instances, I believe wonders will 
 never cease ; ; for he fast profoundly remarked, that the 
 clergy were the people who were " sitting in hea- 
 venly places in Christ ; 5 ? and then observed, that their 
 office itself so operated upon them, that if they were 
 bad men before they were in holy orders, yet when once 
 they were promoted to one of these heavenly places hi 
 Christ Jesus, they mm! be made good in course. 
 
 Merrym. What by a sort of spiritual legerdemain, 
 I suppose ; however, that was not the case with me. 
 But how did he prove this egregious nonsense ? 
 
JLoveg. You Know there is no proving nonsense ; 
 but first he observed that the clergy, when they chris- 
 tenened the children, could not but be reminded of 
 their own baptismal vows thereby, and that pre- 
 vented their breaking them : that visiting the sick, 
 and burying the dead, would also remind them of 
 their mortality ; and that would render it impossible 
 for them to lead wicked lives ; and as to administer- 
 ing the holy sacrament, that could not but operate 
 as a charm to make them holy too ; and that reading 
 the prayers and lessons, as appointed in the service 
 of the church, must remind them of their duty, and 
 direct them in the practice of it ; and thus they were 
 all, from their mere office, made good. 
 
 Merrym. Is it possible that he could believe his 
 own nonsense, when so directly contrary to matters 
 of fact? 
 
 JLoveg. Whether he, or others believed it I cannot 
 tell ; so, however, it seems he preached : and though 
 the Doctor has the misfortune to be a remarkably 
 high churchman, insomuch, that when he came to 
 consider the religion of the country from whence 
 he purchased his diploma, he could scarce sleep for 
 three nights together, on account of the evils he ap- 
 prehended from his Presbyterian degree; yet, when 
 he preached his famous visitation sermon, he was li- 
 beral in the extreme ; for though he said it was cer- 
 tain that the religion of the established clergy was 
 the best that could be, and must therefore make 
 them the best men ; yet lie supposed the religion of 
 the Dissenting clergy made them good also, though 
 it could not be admitted that it made them so good 
 as themselves. * 
 
 JVor. What contemptible, popish trash ! but I 
 
 * This is an epitome of a sermon which the author positively heard 
 at a visitation, 
 
 U 2 ' 
 
wish you would tell us something better worth our 
 hearing than this strange nonsense. How did you 
 finish the day ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, young Mr. Lovely begged I might do 
 with them as I do at your house, expound a chapter, 
 and give them a prayer ; and I trust it was not with- 
 out the divine blessing. The only person who ap- 
 peared dissatisfied, as it was new work to them all, 
 was the old lady. She is terribly afraid I shall make 
 her son " righteous over much;" and has strange 
 apprehensions, if that be the case, he will squander 
 away all his money, by giving it among the poor. 
 
 Wor. She has quite the family failing then. 
 
 Loveg. I fear she and Mr. Lovely's father though 
 married, w T ere never matched ; she is perpetually tor- 
 menting the servants about wearing out mops too 
 fast, drinking too much small beer, and wasting the 
 brown sugar ; spending so much for provisions on 
 the dogs and cats, suffering themselves to be cheated 
 by purchasing such small half-penny-worths of sand ; 
 so that her maid-servants are seldom with her longer 
 than when they have seen about two or three full 
 moons, and then they are off; but as to Mr. Love- 
 ly's father, all these poor cast-offs gave him the 
 best of characters wherever they went. 
 
 Mrs. JVor. No wonder that Mrs. Lovely should 
 keep back from going with her husband to see such 
 a mother-in-law, though they loved each other so 
 much. 
 
 JVor. I suppose he returned on the Monday ? 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir ; and on the Wednesday, when I 
 had engaged to return, Mr. Lovely requested me to 
 accept fifty pounds for my travelling expences. I 
 immediately told him that I should feel like a down- 
 right Gehazi, Elisha's mercenary servant, if I ac- 
 cepted more than was necessary to bring me back 
 to my own door ; he, however, would not let me go 
 
227 
 
 away with less than twenty pounds, and before my 
 arrival the other thirty were sent, in a most affection- 
 ate letter, as a present to Mrs. Lovegood, with a hope 
 soon to meet again. 
 
 After this, Mr. Lovegood further related a con- 
 versation he had on his return in the stage to Brook- 
 field, with old Dame Gossiper, who was very re- 
 ligious in her way, and who hoped to be saved by 
 the help of " her church, her parson, and her good 
 God:" but as the writer has scarcely anytime to 
 compose these Dialogues, except in the evenings of 
 the day when all is silent, he wishes to drop a con- 
 versation somewhat less interesting, while nature de- 
 mands its accustomed rest. 
 
228 
 
 DIALOGUE XXIX. 
 
 BETWEEN MR. WORTHY AND FAMILY, MR. CON- 
 SIDERATE, AND THOMAS NEWMAN. 
 
 THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. 
 
 ACCORDING to the hint given in the former 
 Dialogue, the reader must now be informed, 
 that two days after Mr. Lovegood's return from the 
 Lovelys, the intended union between Mr. Merry- 
 man and Miss Worthy took place. As the reporter 
 of these events was not at the wedding, much infor- 
 mation from him cannot be expected on that sub- 
 ject. From the feelings of female delicacy, it was 
 the wish of Miss Worthy that the marriage should 
 be solemnized with all possible secrecy ; and in or- 
 der to accomplish this, the family went to the church 
 with Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovegood, apparently 
 with a design to see about some alterations which 
 were making in Mr. Worthy's pew, and some other 
 accommodations, that the poor might be better 
 seated, who so plentifully crowd the aisles. And 
 while the carpenters were gone to their breakfast, 
 old Andrew Snuffle, the clerk, was ordered to attend 
 at a moment's warning, and then the marriage cere- 
 mony was performed. They next retired to Brook - 
 field Hall, when a very appropriate prayer for a 
 blessing on the union was offered up by Mr. Love- 
 good. 
 
 Though this event was thus performed in secret, 
 
229 
 
 yet it was not the wish of the family that it should be 
 kept a secret. Old Andrew went directly to the 
 ringers, who began gingling the bells as well as they 
 could; though one of them being cracked, and 
 another of them having lately lost its clapper, the 
 music of the steeple was but a coarse exhibition of 
 the people's joy. Seldom had Mr. Lovegood an ill 
 word from any of his parishioners ; but on this event 
 the ringers were almost angry with him for having 
 opposed the repair of the ring of bells; but he well 
 knew, that this sort of music was frequently a temp- 
 tation to a disorderly conduct. Mr. Worthy, also, 
 was of the same opinion, being entirely satisfied that 
 a better set of bells could never be wanted to call 
 the people to public worship, while the best bell in the 
 church, (referring to the pulpit,) was so thoroughly 
 sound, and had in it such an excellent clapper, to 
 charm the ears and hearts of all who had grace to at- 
 tend on its melodious sound. 
 
 Mr. Worthy, therefore, having sent to the ring- 
 er;- the accustomed compliment, requesting them, 
 and the rest of the inhabitants of the village, to ab- 
 stain from all riotous mirth on that happy event, 
 especially as the^ bride and bridegroom were going 
 off for Sandover directly ; and that if they would 
 wait their return in about a fortnight, when they 
 were to come and pass a few days at Brookfield 
 Hall, he would then, ou the condition of their or- 
 derly behaviour, invite them to partake of a marri- 
 age feast at his own house. A word frpm Mr. Wor- 
 thy was always a law throughout the village. Ma- 
 ny cheerful blessings were pronounced on the union, 
 all having one and the same wish, that the family of 
 the Worthys might be built up in all its collateral 
 branches ; and that from age to age they might be a 
 blessing to the country, wherever " the bounds of 
 their habitations might be fixed." 
 
230 
 
 Though the precise time of this intended union 
 was known to none at Sandover but Mr. Merryman's 
 servants, yet immediately on their arrival, though 
 in the evening of the day, the event soon transpired 
 through all the neighbourhood : and Mr. Merryman 
 had scarcely finished his family prayer, when they 
 were saluted with the following hymn, accompanied 
 with instrumental music, and sung hy some of his 
 affectionate parishioners, in the court-yard of his 
 rectory house. 
 
 THE HYMN. 
 
 In Paradise the joy began, 
 When male and female both were one ; 
 Their hears entwin'd in mutual love, 
 Their mutual joy was love alone. 
 
 But, ah ! lamented be the day, 
 When man forsook the God of love ; 
 Till Christ the second Adam came, 
 And brought salvation from above. 
 
 Invited to the marriage feast, 
 The Holy Saviour grac'd the day ; 
 There his firs', miracle he wrought, 
 That hence he might his power display. 
 
 Let this fond pair, enrich'd with grace, 
 Like clusters rich from Canaan's vine, 
 Be bless'd wirh all his love and pow'r, 
 Who tum'dthe water into wine. 
 
 Witness their marriage, dearest Lord, 
 Emblem of thy uniting grace ; 
 One with each other, one with thee, 
 For ever bless them, " Prince of Peace." 
 
 Upon the bridal pair look down, 
 Who now have plighted hearts and hands ; 
 Their union with thy favour crown, 
 And bless, O bless, the nuptial bands. 
 
 With gifts and grace their hearts endow, 
 Of all rich dowries far the besr : 
 Their substance bless, and peace bestow, 
 ^nd that shall sweeten all the rest. 
 
231 
 
 True helpmates in the heavily road, 
 O may they tread the paths of life ! 
 Those peaceful paths so far remote, . 
 From all the rugged ways of strife. 
 
 As Isaac and Rebecca gave 
 A pattern mild, and chaste, and kind, 
 So may this new-met couple live 
 As one, in constant union join'd. 
 
 Many were inquisitive to know from whence 
 these good people procured their poetry, while some 
 were of opinion that it was the production of Mr. 
 Lovegoocf, written on a former marriage occasion, 
 and which had got into circulation by having been 
 transcribed by different persons : yet others judged 
 that it was somewhat below the general pitch of his 
 poetry, and that it might more probably have been 
 the production of a Mrs. Rhymer, who lived in those 
 parts, and to w r hom Mr. Merryman's ministry had 
 been made very useful. But that we may deal upon 
 uncertainties and conjectures no longer, the reader 
 shall have other particulars in a dialogue, which 
 took place between Mr. Worthy and family, and 
 our old favourite Thomas Newman, who had been 
 to Sandover with his eldest daughter Betty, the day 
 after the marriage, that she might attend as a ser- 
 vant on Mrs. Merryman ; and where Thomas him- 
 self had been detained, that he might help Mr. Mer- 
 ryman with a little of his advice, as it respected the 
 management of his glebe, and some other little 
 husbandry concerns, which he now found necessary 
 to undertake upon his settlement in a family way. 
 
 [Thomas is introduced.'] 
 
 T/io. Your servant, your honour; Ihave a letter 
 to your honour, from Madam Merryman. 
 
232 
 
 \_Mr. Worthy reads the letter, and hands it to Mrs. 
 Worthy.'] 
 
 Wor. Well, Thomas, I perceive my daughter and 
 her husband are very well — sit down, I want to have 
 some conversation with you about them. 
 
 Tho. With your honour's leave, I had rather 
 stand. I should be ashamed to sit down before your 
 honour. 
 
 Wor. Nay, nay, Thomas, you must sit down : I 
 shall have many questions to ask, and you must be 
 tired ; for you have had a long walk from Sandover. 
 
 [After much persuasion, Thomas sits down at a 
 modest distance from his honour ; for Thomas reads 
 his Bible, and that directs him to " give honour to 
 whom honour is due;" while the truly honourable 
 Mr. Worthy is as wisely instructed to " condescend 
 to men of low estate.' 5 ] 
 
 Wor. Well, and what do the people of Sandover 
 think of Mr. Merry man, for having taken my daugh- 
 ter away from me ? 
 
 Tho. Ah, dear, your honour ! why the people at 
 Sandover are delighted to admiration at the match. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. I am glad they are, Thomas ; I am 
 thoroughly persuaded my daughter will do all in 
 her power to make a good wife, and a good minis- 
 ter's wife. 
 
 Tho. Why, Madam, the very day after her mar- 
 riage, she went with that dear gentleman, andjfor 
 sure he is a precious soul! and visited ever so many 
 poor folk about the parish, and gave something 
 wherever she went. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. She told us, that she should want no 
 fine wedding clothes in 9'oins; to Sandover ; and that 
 she had rather, when she came there, lay out that 
 money among the poor, that she might put a little 
 decent clothing on their backs who needed it most. 
 
 Tho. Why, madam, I never saw a people so hap- 
 
233 
 
 py 111 all my born days, as the people at Sandover 
 were, when they saw such a humble good young 
 lady walking about in such a plain way and dress ; 
 while some foolish proud folk supposed that your 
 honour would have sent her home in a coach and six, 
 and that there should have been bondfires, and nobody 
 knows what fine things besides. 
 
 JVor. Indeed, Thomas, had we acted such a part, 
 the old proverb had been true against us, " A fool 
 and his money are soon parted." But I hope my 
 daughter will prove a very useful helpmate to that 
 good young minister. 
 
 Tho. 'Las, your honour, you cannot tell how they 
 talk of Mr. Merry man all the parish over, and what 
 stories the people tell of his humble and good na- 
 tured ways : though 'squire Wild, that lives in his 
 parish, never comes to hear him ; but orders that his 
 pew should be locked up, that none of the poor 
 people who come from far should go into his pew : 
 and so good Mr. Merry man has ordered a pair of 
 steps to be made, that people may get over into the 
 'squire's pew, because he did not chuse to break 
 the lock : but he says nobody has a right to lock 
 up their pews, if they won't come there themselves. 
 And so the people can get over very well, and then 
 the rest of the poor people sit upon the steps. 'Squire 
 Wild was great enough with Mr. Merryman, while 
 they were all living together in the same wicked way ; 
 and now and then he would come to church, hut 
 he would do nothingbut laugh and jeer with Madam 
 Wild and his daughters all the time ; and now he 
 says every thing that he can think of against Mr. 
 Merryman, poor dear young gentleman ! 
 
 Wor. That is not at all to be wondered at, Tho- 
 mas, while " the carnal mind is enmity against 
 God." But Mr. Merryman is quite in the right of 
 it; no family should lock up a pew if they don't 
 Vol. II. - X 
 
234 
 
 fill it themselves ; tho' he does very wisely in oppos- 
 ing bad measures with as much mildness as he can. 
 But did not the people want to be feasted upon the 
 occasion ? 
 
 Tho. Oh no, your'honour ; Mr. Merryman said 
 he should make no feast but for the poor : and so 
 he sent five guineas to the bakers, to be given away 
 among such poor, as he and the overseers might 
 think fit. 
 
 JVor. Only five guineas, Thomas ! 
 
 Tho. Why, your honour, I thought that was a 
 desperate big sum ; but then he ordered five guineas 
 more to be sent to the butchers, that a bit of meat 
 might be given to every poor man thai was to have 
 the loaf of bread. His heart is wonderfully set on 
 doing good. 
 
 Wor. Why, Thomas, the only proof that we are 
 good is, when we are enabled by the grace of God 
 to do good : every tree is known alone by its fruits. 
 But M \ Merryman tells us he kept you all Friday 
 and Saturday talking about his little husbandry af- 
 fairs, and that he would make you stop over the 
 Sunday : how did poor Betty do without you all 
 the time ? 
 
 Tho. Why, to be sure, Betty and I never were so 
 long away from each other since we have been mar- 
 ried, and now it is fifteen years, come a fortnight 
 after next Mapleton fair day. It seemed to us a 
 longful time to be apart ; and we both of us found 
 it desperate hard work to part with our poor daugh- 
 ter ; but there she is gone to a charming place ; and 
 young Madam Merryman takes to her wonderfully. 
 The Lord bless the child, and give her grace ! 
 
 Wor. Aye, Thomas, that sets ail right, and keeps 
 all right : but how r is it that you cannot bear to part 
 with your children, when you have so many of 
 them? 
 
235 
 
 Tho. The Lord be praised, we have none too ma- 
 ny ! Betty and I have always noticed it, the more 
 we have of them, the more the Lord blesses us. 
 Whenever we seem to be a little sharp run, one good 
 body or another, besides your honour, is always 
 sending us something : we want nothing but thank- 
 ful hearts. 
 
 Wor. Why, as Mr. Lovely's great uncle has left 
 him his fortune, he talks of taking your eldest son 
 Thomas ofif your hands. 
 
 Tho. To be sure, it is very kind of the young gen- 
 tleman. Edward, of the Golden Lion, has told me 
 a deal about him. But it will be a desperate hard 
 gripe for me and Betty to part with him. How 
 ■movingly he talked about a sermon our minister 
 preached a few Sundays ago upon the wise and fool- 
 ish virgins !* Dear child, he was quite in tears while 
 he was saying how much afraid he was, lest he should 
 be among the foolish virgins ; and Betty and I were 
 as much overcome at his talk as himself. 
 
 Wor. Well, Thomas, this should give you encou- 
 ragement to bring up your children " in the nurture 
 and admonition of the Lord." 
 
 Tho. Why PU assure your honour, that Betty, 
 M r ho is gone to live with Madam Merryman, is a 
 very pretty spirited child ; though little Sammy is a 
 mighty stomachful boy ; but by the Lord's blessing, 
 -he may get better as he gets older. 
 
 Wor. But, Thomas, if Mr. Lovely should ever 
 chuse to take your son, you must not object to it. 
 I have no doubt but it will be the making of him, if 
 he turns out well. 
 
 Tho. Oh no; if the young 'squire should chaise to 
 
 take him ; I shall be sure to follow your h tour's 
 
 i 
 
 * This must certainly have been the same sermon that so much offend- 
 ed Mr. Lovely, see Dialogue XXL 
 
236 
 
 advice, and let him go ; though they say he lives 
 a desperate way oft', almost half as far as London. 
 
 Mrs. JFor. But, Thomas, how did you like Mr. 
 Merryman on the Sunday ?- 
 
 Tho. Like him, madam ! Who could but chuse 
 to like him : excepting Mr. Lovegood, I think he 
 must be one of the finest men in all the world. 
 
 Wor. I suppose there was a fine croud to see Mr. 
 Merryman bring his bride to church for the first 
 time. 
 
 Tho. Why your honour knows it is always crowd- 
 eel ; for rector Grumble, of the next parish, has been 
 preaching such scolding sermons against modern 
 'thusists, that he has driven all the people away. 
 Some of them go off to a dissenting meeting, where 
 they say a very good man preaches, and a great 
 many more of them come to Mr. Merry man's church; 
 and yet Rector Grumble keeps scolding at the empty 
 pews as bad as ever. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. I hope Mr. Merryman does not scold 
 in return. 
 
 Tho. He scold, dear gentleman ! It would be a 
 hard matter to set him a scolding. He has a sweet 
 loving heart of his own, since it has been changed 
 by the grace of God ; but to be sure the church was 
 wonderfully crowded. I am sure it was tnighty mov? 
 ing : I never was so affected in all my bom days. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. What was so moving, Thomas ? 
 
 Tho. Why, madam, there was such a wonderful 
 fine garland "placed over the gate of the church 
 yard, and on one side of it, there was a writing in 
 great large letters, " God bless the happy pair!" 
 and on the other side, ■" Long live the family of the 
 Worthy s !" and then, your honour, there was over 
 the garland a painting like two hands taking hold 
 of each other, and holding two hearts joined toge- 
 1 ther ; and out of the two hearts there was 5 a flame 
 
-237 
 
 of fire,, and in- that flame, there was 
 these words, " God is love." And 
 Merry man. and his lady came into tl : 
 fingers struck up such a charming pne rrj urn, 1 
 don't think Mr. Lovegood could have made a bet- 
 ter. 
 
 Wor, Whj^ perhaps Mr. Lovegood did make it, 
 Thomas, for he waa in the secrerabout the marri- 
 age : but we have seen a copy oi i . 
 
 Tho. It was the same hymn, your honour, that they 
 sung in the court yard the night Mr. Merry man and 
 madam came home. And then the singers would 
 have me with them, to help them to pitch the tune ; 
 but instead of singing, 'las! your honour, the sight 
 of it so much affected me, in seeing the people stand 
 up, as though they were all praying for a blessing on 
 them at the same time, it made me quite cry for joy : 
 if it had been king George, and queen Charlotte, the 
 people could not have given them more honour. 
 The Lord grant that they mav be as happv as Betty 
 and I ! 
 
 Mrs. Wor. I should suppose all this love and af- 
 fection from the good people was enough to overset 
 my daughter. 
 
 Tho. Why, madam, I heard when she came into 
 her pew, she was so overcome, that she had almost 
 swounded away. 
 
 Wor. Well, Thomas, I have put my daughter 
 into very good hands ; and what is best of all, I 
 trust they are both in the hands of the Lord. 
 
 Tho. Ah, but your honour knows that he was not 
 in the hands of the Lord before he heard our dear 
 minister at the visitation, and when he was running 
 after all sorts of romancing nonsenses. And now 
 there are some folk who can scarcely help making 
 their sports at him, though he lives such a different 
 life from what he did in his wicked unregenerate. 
 days. 
 
238 
 
 JVor. Why has any one been laughing at him of 
 late ? 
 
 Tho. Why they say old Mr. Quibble, the law- 
 yer, met him the other day, >vhi!e he was carrying 
 a poor old woman's basket on his horse, because she 
 appeared so weak that she could not carry it herself, 
 while she was walking along the road to market ; 
 and there lawyer Quibble, tbey say, made such a 
 jeering and joking at him for it, when he was at 
 'squire Wild's. But such'sort of hard-hearted law- 
 yers have no conceivance what the tender-hearted 
 ministers of Christ feel, when they see their fellow 
 creatures in such distress. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Well, well, Thomas, we sha'nt be 
 ashamed of our son-in-law for such easy, good-na- 
 tured tricks as these ; but did he not want to trans- 
 port you and your family from Brookfield, to be his 
 bailiff. 
 
 Tho. Why, madam, I never can think, wicked 
 sinner as I am in heart, that I deserve to be trans- 
 ported. Mr. Merryman, I am sure, never thought 
 to have me transported : and I have heard of bam- 
 bailiffs that arrest people for debt, but I am sure I 
 should not like such an office as that : I think, ma- 
 dam, for want of learning, I have a misconceivance 
 of what you mean. 
 
 Wor. Why, Thomas, I am sorry you should mis- 
 understand Mrs. Worthy.. What she means, by trans* 
 portation, is your removal from Brookfield to Sand- 
 over, to overlook my son-in-law's affairs, and you 
 know people call Feigning, my steward, a bailiff. 
 
 Tho. Well, I thought it was only a nickname the 
 folk give him, because, as people say, he is so cun- 
 ning in feathering his own nest out of what belongs 
 to your honour : but I hope madam and your ho- 
 nour will pardon me, that I did not properly under- 
 stand you ; but I am not fit to talk to gentlefolk, be- 
 cause they put their xvords oat in a different manner 
 
239 
 
 to what we countrified people do. But, thank the 
 Lord, I can understand Mr. Lovegood's sermons, 
 though he is such a learned man, from the top to the 
 bottom. 
 
 Wor. Why it is, Thomas, because Mr. Lovegood 
 follows the apostle's direction, to " use great plain- 
 ness of speech." But what have people to say against 
 Feigning, my bailiff? 
 
 Tho. Why people will say, though he makes such 
 a main bustle about religion to please your honour, 
 that he is na better than he should be : the Lord 
 knows his heart, but it is no concernment of mine. 
 
 Airs. Wor. But, Thomas, why won't you go and 
 live with my son-in-law ? I am sure he would be ve- 
 ry kind to you. t 
 
 Tho. Ah, madam, that I am sure he would ; but 
 then there is my dear old master, and my mistress. 
 Sometimes I hope the Lord will change her heart, 
 for she is wonderfully different to w 7 hat she w r as. 
 And then there is Master Henry, and Miss Nancy, 
 and it is to admiration how kind they all behave -to- 
 me and Betty : and then there is our dear minister. 
 Why madam, I never can think of leaving Brook- 
 field parish, while he preaches in the church. 
 
 Wor. Oh no, Thomas, we must not part with 
 you. I believe we shall have some church preferment 
 for you by and by. It is much more likely that 
 j you should be clerk of the parish, than that Mr. 
 Lovegood should bearchbishop of Canterbury*. I be- 
 lieve we must soon put off poor old Andrew Snuffle 
 with a pension. He makes sad blunders, and you 
 know he frequently puts our minister out shocking- 
 ly : at times he cries Amen in the middle of a prayer ; 
 and when my daughter was married, he mistook the 
 business, and began answering to the office of the 
 churching of women. 
 
 * See Dialogue VI. p. 99. 
 
240 
 
 Tho. Ah, poor Andrew ! his hearing is very bad; 
 and his eyes are got very dim : but how shall such a 
 poor creature as I am stand up in such a place ? I 
 wish I could read as well as Betty. > 
 [Servant enters.'] 
 
 Sero. Sir, Mr. and Miss Considerate are come to 
 ■vwait upon you. 
 
 [ They enter, and Thomas retires, after returning 
 many thanks far having received half a crown^ and an 
 order to he well fed in the kite hen. ~\ 
 
 Consid. Sir, I am come with my daughter to wait 
 upon you with our hearty congratulations on the 
 happy marriage, which has taken place in your 
 family. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Worthy. We heartily thank you, sir; 
 pray be seated. Is Mrs. Considerate well ? 
 
 Consid. Very well, I thank you, sir : but it un- 
 fortunately happens to be washing week ; and this 
 is a season of great importance in little families : 
 she supposes, therefore, as my daughter came with 
 me, that her superintendance would be needed at 
 home ; otherwise she would have walked with us. 
 She means, however, very soon to pay her respects 
 to you on this happy event. 
 
 Wor. Mrs. Considerate has at all times been a 
 notable Martha. 
 
 Consid. Yes, sir, and since she has become a truly 
 spiritual Mary, she has continued not less a notable^ 
 Martha. She is always frugal and industrious, 
 though never mean ; while she is prudent and sav- 
 ing, she is just and generous and kind. 
 
 Wor. Sir, it is your mercy to have such a wife. 
 
 donsid. Sir, a wife is either the best or the worst 
 piece of furniture a man can possibly possess. 
 
 Wor. Her character, we have frequently heard, 
 is that of a most liberal' economist : by all accounts, 
 I don't know what her poor neighbours would do 
 
241 
 
 without her. It is said she can make -the richest 
 caudle, and cook the best broth, and patch up the 
 greatest quantity of old clothes, at the cheapest rate, 
 of any person in the parish, for the good of her poor 
 neighbours. 
 
 Consid. Indeed, Sir, she can ; though by her ilota- 
 bleness she coaxes many a shilling out of my pocket; 
 but while she is such a conscientious, yet generous 
 economist, I lose nothing by all she gives ; and what 
 ever she does, is done with so much cheerfulness! 
 I never saw her melancholy but once^ and that was 
 enough to make us both melancholy, when we lost 
 our two dear sons by the same event, when they were 
 both drowned in the river. 
 
 Mrs. IVor. Ah, dear sir, though we were not ac- 
 quainted with each other in those days, yet we sin- 
 cerely sympathized with you. 
 
 Consid Oh, Madam, it was enough to break our 
 hearts ; two more promising children never lived ; 
 and surely never were two brothers known to be 
 more affectionately fond of each other. Indeed this 
 was the cause of the catastrophe ; for my eldest 
 son, seeing his younger brother had got out of his 
 depth, and was crying for help, unfortunately plung- 
 ed in after him with all his clothes on; and was 
 carried down the stream with him, when they both 
 sunk together in a deep hole, under some willows 
 that overhung the bank. To see two such lovely, 
 alert children, that had left my house but an hour 
 before, full of all that vivacity and life which belongs 
 to youth, brought home breathless, and stretched on 
 the same board — Oh, sir ! — [Mr. Considerate xveeps. ] 
 
 Wor. But it seems, sir, it was that calamity which 
 first brought Mrs. Considerate to seek after the con- 
 solation of the Gospel, 
 
 Consid. Yes, sir, I trust this heavy judgment has 
 been overruled in muchmercv to us both; for while 
 
242 
 
 we still continued very much dejected by our loss, 
 our kind neighbours did ail they could in their way 
 to revive our spirits, by inviting us to their tea-ta- 
 bles, and their card parties; but, alas ! in vain. We 
 did not then know, under the loss of both our beloved 
 Isaacs, as we had no other child left but our daughter, 
 that we wanted an Abraham's faith to support us. 
 
 War. Ah, sir, we get but poor consolatita from 
 any other quarter ; it requires more than is to be 
 found in nature, under such circumstances, meekly 
 to say, " Thy will be done. 55 
 
 CcnsicL Why, sir, for a time I foolishly thought I 
 could console my mind from natural reasons and 
 moral philosophy; and it was just then Mr. Love- 
 good sent ue that excellent little treatise upon af- 
 fliction*, entitled " Correction, Instruction: or the 
 Rod and the Word :" together with a conso- 
 latory letter, written with such modesty, tenderness, 
 and humility, as very much captivated my wife 
 and daughter, while I had too good an opinion of 
 my own understanding, to suppose I needed any in- 
 struction from him ; yet I could not but at the same 
 time love and admire his design. 
 
 Wor. But I think, sir, it was this event that first 
 brought Mrs. Considerate and your daughter to 
 Brookfield church. 
 
 Comid. Yes, sir, and I found they were soon in- 
 structed in the lesson of meek and humble sub- 
 mission to the will of God, which I had still to learn ; 
 and it was along time before shame would let me go 
 with them, though I never opposed. Well, sir; 
 though it has been the will of God to deprive me of 
 my future expectations by taking from me two such 
 dear children, yet may your daughter, and newly - 
 
 * Written by Mr. Thomas Case, one of the ejected ministers, and re* 
 commended by Dr. Manto», of which a new edition is just published. 
 
243 
 
 adopted son, long live to be a blessing to their neigh- 
 bourhood! I really trust this will prove a happy 
 event to many, though it is probable Mrs. Merry man, ■ 
 from her situation in life, might in some respects 
 Ijave formed a more advantageous connexion for 
 herself. 
 
 Wor. Why, we esteem it a very happy connexion 
 when the best side of the question is taken into con- 
 sideration ; for, between friends, my daughter had 
 a very handsome offer from young Mr. Gay ; and I 
 was highly pleased with her conduct on this occasion. 
 The moral character of Gay is quite unexceptionable, 
 his fortune is ample, and in many respects he is a 
 very desirable young man : but then his connexions 
 are quite in the world, and he himself is not averse to 
 what are called the innocent amusements of life. 
 , Miss Consid. Yes, sir, she was pleased to give me 
 a hint that she had received so en a proposal ; but 
 said, however in other respects she might like him, 
 yet, as it regarded religious matters, she thought 
 they never could be happy with each other. 
 
 Wor. Why we perceived that for some days there 
 was a strong struggle upon her mind, till she broke 
 it to us, with a full determination not to attend to 
 it : and for a considerable time we have discovered a 
 much stronger bias towards Mr. Merry man. 
 
 Consid. Sir, I think no body can wonder at that : 
 since he has been blessed with the grace of God, he 
 is become a very amiable youth. All that know 
 him, one would think, would cry concerning him,* 
 " What hath God wrought !" 
 
 Wor. This made us determine to leave the young 
 people to the leadings of their own minds. What 
 she loses in point of affluence, I am satisfied, by the 
 blessing of God, she will gain in point of happiness. 
 
 Consid. Sir, if God preserve their lives, I have 
 no doubt but that the union will be attended with 
 
244 
 
 his blessing. We have nothing. to do but to follow 
 the wise rules which we find in our Bibles, and that 
 will assuredly prove the ready way to happiness. 
 When people are unequally yoked in any connex- 
 ions in life, especially in the marriage- state, they 
 may depend upon it, they will make themselves mi- 
 serable through life. I cannot but think that Miss 
 Worthy has acted a part, as you observe, highly com- 
 mendable to her character. If she should be the less 
 affluent, I am sure she will be a thousand times more 
 happy with Mr. Merryman, than ever she could have 
 been with Mr. Gay. 
 
 JVor. She will doubtless be called to move in a 
 more humble sphere ; yet therein she will be much 
 more likely to be protected and preserved. Thomas 
 Newman, who just left the room as you came in, 
 has been giving us a very pleasing narration how 
 they were both received at Sandover on the daj r of 
 their marriage. 
 
 ConsicL Ah, sir, I have heard all about it. The 
 people of Sandover think themselves very happy on 
 the occasion, though Mr. Spiteful, of Mapleton, goes 
 about from house to house, railing at the match like, 
 a madman. 
 
 Wor. What is that to him ? 
 
 Consid. True, sir, but I think he would burst, if he 
 had not now and then an opportunity to vent his 
 spleen ; he has got hold of the old stale cry, which 
 is indeed promiscuously levelled against all religious 
 people, that Mr. Merryman is a Jacobin,- and is con- 
 triving all he can to overturn the church and state ; 
 and that all the canting tribe, round about the coun- 
 try, are secretly combined together in the same plot, 
 by Sunday schools, and other religious exertions ; 
 while our present rulers have no greater enemies 
 against their measures than himself and his comrades. 
 
 IVor. I don't believe their is a man living more 
 
245 
 
 attached to the government of his country than Mr. 
 Merry man. But let Mr. Spiteful rail on, for nobody 
 believes him ; I question if he believes himself: such 
 persons can do no harm, but as they do harm to 
 themselves. 
 
 Consid. But, sir, did you hear what a fine speech 
 poor Thomas Newman made use of to him, when 
 he took it into his head to banter the poor man while 
 he had some of his master's cattle to attend to at the 
 last Mapleton fair ? 
 
 JVor: What was that, sir ? 
 
 Consid. Why, sir, Farmer Snakish and Mr. Spite- 
 ful, who are cousins german, came both of them to- 
 gether to the open green, where you know the fair 
 for cattle is kept, and seeing poor Thomas, who 
 was there attending upon the sale of his master's 
 property, they came up to him, and began talking 
 about the price of cattle ; but more with a design to 
 banter him, than to deal with him. They next be- 
 gan sneering at Thomas about his young master, 
 how he came to run away from home so soon after 
 his miraculous conversion, and whether it was not 
 after some of his old wicked tricks. 
 
 Wor. What could they mean by that ? 
 
 Consid. O, sir, that was their way of interpreting 
 Mr. Henry Littleworth's design in his journey to 
 Locksbury, on Mrs. Chipman's affairs. After this 
 they began with their insulting speeches against Mr. 
 Lovegood, laughing at Mrs. Chipman's miraculous 
 conversion, and insinuating as though it was only a 
 trick between her and Mr. Lovegood. Then they 
 began making their bitter remarks orr Mr. Merry man, 
 saying that the top and bottom of his conversion ap- 
 peared now to be nothing but craft, that he might 
 contrive to get your daughter for his wife. Thomas 
 replied, that he was well persuaded such a conversion 
 could never hare been accomplished but bv the great 
 
 Vol. II. Y 
 
246 
 
 God himself ; adding that it would be a greater mira- 
 cle still, if God would convert either of them. Upon 
 this old Spiteful cried, " The great God ! What do 
 you know of the great God ? I suppose Parson Love- 
 good has made you so wise, that you can tell us how 
 great God is, and how little God is, and all about it." 
 
 War. To say the least of it, this sort of banter was 
 horridly profane. 
 
 Consid. But Thomas's answer was as remarkably 
 to the purpose. He paused, and said, " Yes, sir, I 
 can tell you, both how great God is, and how little 
 God is." Spiteful cried — " Ah, I thought Lovegood 
 had made a clever fellow of you : but let us hear 
 it." Thomas answered " Though he is so great, 
 thaUeven the heaven of heavens cannot contain him, 
 being the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eter- 
 nity, and who dwelleth in the light, which no man 
 can approach unto, and which no man hath seen 
 nor can see : yet he is so little, that he can dwell in 
 the hearts of the humble and the contrite ; and take 
 up his gracious abode, even in such a poor unworthy 
 sinner as myself." 
 
 While Mr. Considerate and Mr. Worthy were 
 thus in conversation, Lord Rakish 's carriage drove 
 up to the door. Mr. Worthy rang the bell immedi- 
 ately, and ordered his boots, that he might appear as 
 if he were going out, that his Lordship might think 
 it necessary to shorten his visit. Mr. Considerate 
 was very glad to make his escape from the interview, 
 while the poor flimsy conversation of his Lordship 
 would be as uninteresting to the reader to peruse, as 
 it would be unpleasant for the writer to relate. Nor 
 has he time to give a minute account oi what took 
 place at the premised marriage-feast at Brookfieid 
 Hall. Let it suffice, that it was conducted with all 
 
247 
 
 that liberality, yet decency and sobriety, which are 
 the standing order of the house. Some very appro- 
 priate hymns were sung ; an exhortation was given 
 by Mr. Lovegood, principally upon the duties of the 
 marriage state : while he still kept up his constant 
 rule, never to expatiate upon moral duties, but upon 
 gospel principles. Thus the writer concludes the 
 present Dialogue with an additional request to his 
 younger readers, that, whenever they may be called 
 in providence into the marriage state, they would not 
 forget at least to take this leaf out of his book ; that 
 their marriage may be conducted with the like so- 
 lemnity, and equally in the fear of God. 
 
248 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXI. 
 
 BETWEEN MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE FAMILY 
 OF THE WORT HYS. 
 
 GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF THE MINISTERIAL CHARACTERS 
 OF MR. DELIBERATE, AND MR. LEGAL-DEFINITION: TO- 
 GETHER WITH A FURTHER NARRATION OF THE AFFAIRS 
 OF MRS. CHIPMAN, AND THE RESULT OF MR. LOVEGOOD's 
 VISIT TO LOCKSBURY. 
 
 THE reader will remember, that he has been twice 
 interrupted in the narration of the affairs of the 
 unhappy Mrs. Chipman. It has been thought most 
 advisable to attend to the chronology of events, ra- 
 ther than regularly to detail each subject by itself. 
 Whatever is done by Providence, has in it abundant- 
 ly more beauty of design, than that which is dressed 
 by art. To refresh the reader's memory, he is re- 
 quested to recollect the conclusion of Dialogue the 
 Twenty-third: he will there find Mrs. Chipman was 
 left perfectly deranged, in which state she continued 
 for full six weeks. 
 
 After her recovery, she was still bent upon the 
 idea, that she could never more make her appear- 
 ance at Locksbury, where her notorious conduct 
 had rendered her the object of universal disgust. 
 She wished rather to keep a school where she was ; 
 but still the yearnings of a mother's bowels over 
 the fatherless and forsaken child, would not suffer 
 her to be happy, till she had it under her imme- 
 diate care. Mr. Reader, however, was as unwil- 
 ling to part with his grandchild, as his daughter 
 
249 
 
 was to live without it; and other circumstances 
 turning up in Providence, demanded that Mrs. Chip- 
 man should forego her feelings, and return to her 
 •native home. Mr. Chipman had a younger brother ; 
 an attentive decent young man. The neighbour- 
 hood advised, that the business should not be dropt ; 
 and Mr. Reader agreed that the deceased brother's 
 property should be continued in- the business, provi- 
 ded his daughter, for the sake of the child, should 
 be a partner in the concern. Matters being thus set- 
 tled, she had no other alternative, than to leave 
 Brookfield, and undertake the charge of the part- 
 nership assigned to her care. 
 
 Her father, therefore, wrote to her after her re- 
 covery, begging her to submit to the plan ; persuad- 
 ing himself that their happiness with each other, 
 being now founded on the solid basis of their union 
 with Christ, and consequently on the best, of princi- 
 ples, would be far superior to what can be enjoyed 
 from mere natural affection, independent of the 
 loving influences which are experienced in the hearts 
 of all those who " love the Lord Jesus in sincerity." 
 
 Mr. Reader at the same time strongly urged, that 
 Mr, Lovegood should attend her, in order that he 
 might accept Mr. Fribble's offer of the pulpit, that 
 his neighbours might have an opportunity of hear- 
 ing the same glorious truths, whereby such wonders 
 of grace had been felt, not only or the heart of his 
 daughter and her husband, but he humbly trusted 
 on his own heart also. Mr. Worthy was equally 
 desirous that Mr. Lovegood -should attend the- call, 
 though his congregation at all times parted with, 
 him with much regret ; while Mr. Lovegood felt 
 himself more at liberty to a seconclexcursion, though 
 so speedily after the former, under the consideration 
 that a serious clergyman, Mr. Deliberate, was then 
 upon a visit in that neighbourhood. Perceiv- 
 
 Y 2 
 
2o0 
 
 ing, therefore, that he should not leave his beloved 
 flock under the care of Mr. John Nokes, or Mr. 
 Thomas Styles, provided he was but in holy orders ; 
 he concluded it was again the call of Providence, 
 that he should make this second excursion from his 
 congregation and family. One Sunday's absence 
 only he allowed himself for this journey. From 
 this, his domestic disposition, many have lamented 
 that one of the best of ministers has been prevented 
 from shining among others, equal to the full lustre of 
 that character, which he ever appeared to possess in 
 the retired situation he filled with such dimity and 
 devotedness of heart. Matters being thus settled, 
 Mrs. Chipman, with many tears and the strongest 
 expressions of gratitude and thankfulness to her kind 
 benefactors, departed from Brookfield, in one of the 
 stages which goes within a short distance of Locks- 
 bury, attended by Mr. Lovegood — giving leave for 
 Mr. Spiteiiil to say, that Lovegood had left the coun- 
 try, and was gone nobody knows where, with the 
 woman he had so marvellously converted ; insinuat- 
 ing much, but saying little. Such were the speeches 
 of this wretched creature, himself being such a mi- 
 serable composition of wrath, craft, and spleen. 
 
 Mr. Lovegood's journey, to and from Locksbury, 
 occupied near a fortnight of his time. The reader 
 shall be acquainted with the result of this visit in 
 the conversation which took place between him and 
 the family of the Worthys at Brookfield Hall on his 
 return. 
 
 Wor. Well, sir, we are glad to see you home 
 again, though we had two very judicious sermons 
 from Mr. Deliberate : He is a serious and solid di- 
 vkie, yet I wish he was not so remarkably dry and 
 formal. 
 
251 
 
 Mrs. Wor. His sermons may be good ones, but I 
 cannot admire, for myself, such a formal, cold, 
 systematic method of preaching. 
 
 Loveg. Mr. Deliberate is an excellent chamber 
 divine, if I may so speak, and capable of writing 
 good sound lectures in divinity ; but that which is 
 delivered with greater simplicity, and which comes 
 more to the point, so as to reach the conscience, 
 certainly does most good. 
 
 Wor. I confess that the heart should be affected, 
 as well as the head instructed ; our affections should 
 be enlivened, while our judgments. are enlightened; 
 though Mr. Deliberate is certainly a man of a very 
 deep understanding. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. My dear, I don't pretend to be a judge 
 of the depth of his understanding ; but it appeared 
 to me that, though the people continued gaping at 
 him through half his sermon ; yet, before he con- 
 cluded, the congregation seemed to be more than 
 half asleep. But he is still a better preacher, in my 
 opinion, than Mr. Legal -definition. 
 
 Loveg. As to Mr. Legal-definition, I could very 
 readily put up with his long and tiresome defini- 
 tions, of which he makes almost the whole of his 
 sermons, if he w T ould but give us more of the Gos- 
 pel. 
 
 Wor. I think I have heard him preach three times, 
 and one of his sermons was tolerably evangelical ; but 
 the others had not a word of the gospel in them : all 
 the time was taken up upon the duty of forgiving our 
 enemies. 
 
 Loveg. And what a fine opportunity he had of 
 impressing that x excellent duty, from evangelical 
 principles, when we are directed " to forgive one 
 another, even as God, for Christ's sake, has forgiven 
 us?" It is much to be admired, how closely St. 
 Paul urges all social and relative duties, as resting 
 
252 
 
 upon no other principles than those which are evan- 
 gelical ; as though he knew no other argument to 
 be conclusive among Christians, but what sprung 
 from the atonement and salvation of our Lord. We 
 are " bought with a price, therefore we must glorify 
 God in our bodies and spirits, which are his." 
 When the mortification of sin is mentioned, it is 
 said we are " crucified with Christ," and "made 
 conformable to his death;" that thereby " we axe 
 crucified to the world, and the world unto us ;" so 
 that "we reckon ourselves to be dead unto sin," 
 through his death ; and that we are so completely 
 dead unto sin, that we are even said, " to be buried 
 with him." So in regard to that heavenly-minded- 
 ness, which is the vejy life and soul of all spiritual 
 obedience, we are said " to be made partakers of the 
 power of his resurrection ;" to " be risen with Christ; 
 quickened together with Christ ;" and that we are 
 " made alive unto God, through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord." How poor and low are the dry arguments of 
 the moralists when compared with these ! If these 
 motives will not prevail against our corruptions, I am 
 sure no others will. 
 
 Wor. I know that all other arguments in defence 
 of morality have argued almost all morality out of 
 the country. We never can have practical religion 
 but upon evangelical principles. But Mr. Legal- 
 definition is very fond of what he calls, " guarding 
 the Gospel," which he only ventures now and then 
 to bring out as a rarity. 
 
 Loveg. Guarding the Gospel ! Why what guard- 
 ing can the Gospel need ? They must have a poor 
 opinion of divine truths who talk in this cold in- 
 consistent manner. We are only set upon our guard, 
 when we suspect an evil. And what evil is there to be 
 suspected from the Gospel? What part of the Gospel- 
 dispensation have I to guard ? When the Gospel iree- 
 
253 
 
 ly holds forth the name and salvation of Christ only, 
 for the pardon and acceptance of sinners, and all 
 sorts of sinners, how are we to guard it ? Not by 
 contradicting, it is to be hoped : nor by saying, that 
 our repentance is to be mixed with the divine mercy. 
 If so, I have as much reason to love and thank my- 
 self, as I have to love and thank my Saviour; and 
 while we lesson our obligations to love him, we cer- 
 tainly lessen our obligations to obey him. 
 
 Wor. Yes, and it is upon this very principle that 
 they think the Gospel should be guarded, " lest we 
 continue in sin that grace may abound. " 
 
 Loveg. And so this inconsistent, cautious, tribe 
 of guarders think they do credit to divine truths, 
 by bringing forward the objection started, and which 
 ever will be started, by its enemies in all ages of 
 the church, while upon that very subject St. Paul 
 shews how the Gospel guards itself: " How shall we, 
 that are dead unto sin, live any longer therein ?" 
 But these people seem to me, to have no idea 
 of the Gospel, but as it is limited to the justification 
 of our persons through the redemption of Christ. Is 
 not the sanctification of our natures, by the influence 
 of the divine Spirit, another essential part of the Gos- 
 pel, whereby the blessing of personal holiness is ab- 
 solutely secured to all the redeemed of the Lord ? 
 
 IV or. I can't see what we have to be afraid of, or 
 to guard in all this. 
 
 Loveg. Why, I suppose, we are to tell people that 
 as they are not to trust too much on the merits of 
 Christ on the one hand, so they should be aware lest 
 they trust too much on the work of the Spirit on the 
 other ; as if living on the grace of the Holy Spirit^ 
 could feed their corruptions and make them unholy. 
 
 Wor. One would suppose, what you frequently 
 calLthe Gospel of our " sanctification," operated by 
 the rule of reverse : as though lectures on honesty 
 
254 
 
 need to be guarded, lest they should direct us to be 
 thieves ; or lectures on chastity should teach us to be 
 impure. . 
 
 JLoveg. I really don't know what they can mean 
 by " guarding the Gospel," unless it be a perverted 
 gospel ; and as perverted truth is nothing better than 
 falsehood, so a perverted gospel is no gospel at all. 
 Some persons seem to think, though it be as contrary 
 to truth as light to darkness, that the Gospel is with- 
 in a hair's-breadth of downright Antinomianism, 
 which turns the holy truths of God into a licentious 
 lie. Am I in danger of error while I receive the 
 truth? or must I guard against wickedness, while I 
 humbly submit to be ruled by that doctrine which 
 is according to godliness? I wish all our worldly pru- 
 dence about guarding truth, and preaching it mo- 
 derately or soberly, as they cali>it,' may not lead to 
 something much worse, by producing ignoranceand 
 indifference, which must ultimately terminate in giv- 
 ing up, or corrupting the whole. 
 
 JVor. I think you good ministers of the Gospel 
 have nothing to do, but to " contend earnestly for 
 the faith once delivered to the sai 
 
 JLoveg. Then, sir, we need not guard those holy 
 truths, which God himself hath " c (J to the 
 
 saints ;" and if delivered to the saints, it was designed 
 of God, that we should be " sa&ctifiefi by the tru- 
 Thus, all this guarding the gospe! 3 seems to c e 
 home against the gospel itself In my opinion, i is 
 a most dangerous expression ; no wonder if tfa 
 consequences of these truths are-suspected by o 
 while we seem to suspect them ourselves. 
 
 Wor. I don't know that Mr. Deliberate is by any 
 means such a great " guarder of the gospel" as is 
 Mr. Legal-definition. I believe h& knows much more 
 of the truth, and is therefore much less airaid of 
 preaching it, though his style of preaching renders 
 him tedious and dull. 
 
255 > 
 
 Loveg. When I was curate at Abley, there was a 
 clergyman in those parts, who lived in almost the 
 next parish to my honest warm-hearted friend Mr. 
 Slapdash, called Mr. Slopdash ; and he seemed to be 
 just the reverse of Mr. Deliberate. While one scarcely 
 dare speak at all, but as he continues looking at 
 every expression again and again, lest it should be 
 otherwise than the most judicious and correct ; the 
 other, without any consideration whatever, would 
 be pouring out vollies of the most disgustful non- 
 sense. Notwithstanding the cold, plodding, phleg- 
 matic disposition of Mr. Deliberate, may render him 
 a heavy preacher, yet I had rather a thousand times 
 attend on the good sense of the one, than the mere 
 rhapsody and nonsense of the other. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. And so had I. But then it appears to 
 me, that of two evils I should only choose the least. 
 
 Mrs. Considerate asked Farmer Littleworth how 
 he liked the sermon, and he said- — " Ah, madam, to 
 my liking, our own dear minister out-tops them ail. 
 This gentleman has so many heads and tails, and so 
 many tops and bottoms to his sermons, that we coun- 
 try folk^ can scarce know how to make him out. And 
 poor Thomas Newman said, while Mr. Deliberate was 
 splitting his heads, by attending to him, that he 
 thought his head would have been split at the same 
 time." 
 
 Loveg. Why, half the skill of preaching to a coun- 
 try congregation — — 
 
 Wor. (Interrupts) Aye, and to a city congrega- 
 tion too, for not one in ten of them are wiser than 
 ourselves. 
 
 Loveg. I quite agree with you, sir. But I was 
 going to observe, that half the skill of preaching, is 
 to bring truth home to the lowest capacity oi our 
 hearers ; and while we attempt to make them wise 
 unto salvation, the world Will certainly call it " the 
 foolishness of preaching ; " but still it will be widely 
 
256 
 
 different from foolish preaching. While we can preach 
 with " simplicity and godly sincerity, and not with 
 fleshly wisdom," we may expect the same blessing 
 which attended the ministry of St. Paul. He tells 
 us plainly how he went to work, " And I, brethren, 
 when I came unto you, came not with excellency of 
 speech and of wisdom, declaring to you the testimo- 
 ny of God ; for I was determined to know nothing 
 among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified; and 
 my speech and my preaching was not with the en- 
 ticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration 
 of the Spirit and of power :" and what a noble reason 
 he adds to all this, " lest your faith should stand in 
 the wisdom of man, and not in the power of God." 
 
 Wor. But, sir, I think Mr. Deliberated sermons 
 were not in that style notwithstanding : he does not 
 aim at what some fulsome pretended orators suppose 
 to be the excellency of speech or wisdom. 
 
 Loveg. I quite agree with you, sir, and I did not 
 quote that passage from scripture as immediately 
 levelling its meaning against one of his description. 
 Mr. Deliberate is a good man, and a man of learn- 
 ing and thought, and our natural dispositions all 
 widely differ from each other. 
 
 Wots Just so I conceive of matters. But I am so 
 much interested to hear the result of your journey to 
 Locksbury, that I must beg leave to interrupt the 
 present conversation, and mate some enquiries about 
 that event. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, the nearer the poor widow came 
 towards Locksbury, the more her mind was agitated 
 and distressed. I thought she would have lost her 
 reason a second time. 
 
 Wor. I suppose that her feelings must have been 
 keen indeed. I am almost afraid to ask, what was 
 the result of the first interview. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, the people of the inn, where we alight- 
 ed, directly knew who she was, and there was an 
 
257 
 
 immediate buzz about the house; I requested there- 
 fore that she might be shewn into some back room, 
 where she sat, more agitated and affected than I can 
 well express, and there I left her while I went and 
 advertised her father of her arrival. When I came 
 into his house and told him who I was, how he trem- 
 bled and wept, and in what strong terms of gratitude 
 he expressed himself for all the attention paid to his 
 daughter ! He wanted to go with me immediately 
 to conduct her to his house, but I objected to this 
 plan, as I thought this first interview, which was 
 likely to be a very affecting one, had better not take 
 place in a public house. He immediately saw the 
 propriety of my objection ; it was therefore judged 
 best, that I should return and conduct her to her fa- 
 ther's house. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Oh! what a painful office this must 
 have been ? I wish Sir Charles had been there to 
 have seen the consequences of his abominable and 
 brutal conduct. 
 
 Lav eg. Why, madam, it is supposed that misera- 
 ble creature is now no more, 
 Mrs. Wor. What is he dead? " 
 Loveg. It is strongly reported about Locksbiny, 
 that, soon after Mrs. Chipman left him, he went 
 over to Ireland, where he thought it might be mere 
 convenient to assume another name, and there, fight- 
 ing a duel with one of the same stamp with himself, 
 was killed upon the spot. But as for such monsters, 
 they are quite callous to all the fine feelings of na- 
 tural affection, while sunk in the gratification of 
 their mere brutal appetites. The scene, however, 
 between Mrs. Chipman and her father was so affect- 
 ing that it almost overset me.* 
 
 * Report at present only says, that after Sir Charles had worn, 
 . out the credit of his own name in "England he went over to Ireland, 
 
 Vol. II. Z 
 
258 
 
 Wor. It will be well if the bare recital of matters 
 does not overset us all : but we must hear it. 
 
 Loveg. When I returned, I told her how affecti- 
 onately her father designed to receive her. She cried, 
 " Had he treated me with severity and contempt, 
 that I think I could have borne, for I know I have 
 deserved it ; but, oh, what I feel at the thought, that 
 such a monster should be treated with so much af- 
 fection and love, while I deserve to be abhorred by 
 ail I" It was some time before I could get her to 
 move off her chair to attempt the walk ; and every 
 step she took reminded me of a criminal going to 
 execution. Though I begged her to suppress the 
 emotions of her mind as much as she could, yet the 
 moment her father opened the door, she was down 
 upon her knees, crying, " Oh, my dear father, for 
 God's sake forgive me, for Christ's sake forgive me !" 
 He immediately stooped down and embraced her 
 and kissed her, and said, " My dear child, I have 
 forgiven you, — from the bottom of my heart I have 
 forgiven you." He attempted to raise her up, but * 
 immediately she went off into an hysteric fit, and it 
 
 where he assumed the name of Mr. M'Fury. There he met with a 
 military wild Irishman, captain O'Ehmder, with whom he picked a quar- 
 rel about some of their vile intrigues ; on this account they met, and ac- 
 cording to the style of our modern polite barbarians, (called however, 
 among themselves, men of honour,) they fought a duel ; the captain pro- 
 ved the best marksman, and shot Sir Charles nearly dead upon the spot. 
 He had only time to utter two or three most profane expressions, and 
 spoke no more. 
 
 When the whole race of such Duellers are hanged as intentional mur- 
 derers, for presuming to settle their disputes, excited by the mere freaks 
 of passion, and generally in a drunken frolick, instead of appealing to the 
 wholesome laws of their country, it will be much to the credit of a civi- 
 lized nation. 
 
 Is it not, however, high time, that the magistracy of the nation should 
 resume the dignity of their office ; and no. longer suffer these umpires of 
 their own disputes to proceed, without afterwards conferring upon them 
 the dignity of the halter ? I question if this honour would not prove an^f- 
 fectual remedy to so terrible a disease. 
 
259 
 
 was full half an hour before she could be brought to 
 her recollection : directly as she could speak, she be- 
 gan ap'ain to accuse herself for her husband's mur- 
 derer, for her ingratitude to her father, and for her 
 brutality to her child. I then . spoke rather sharply 
 to her, that, if she had any regard to my advice and 
 her father's feelings, she must make no more use of 
 that sort of language against herself; and then I 
 went to prayer, 
 
 Wor. And how was she after prayer ? 
 
 Loveg. Somewhat more calm, but still very low 
 and hysterical. I waved the subject as far as I could, 
 and entered into conversation with Mr. Reader 
 about the alteration of his views, as it respected 
 spiritual matters ; and I found his mind in a most 
 pleasant state of holy sarpnse at. his former igno- 
 rance, compared with the views he now enjoyed of 
 the gospel- salvation. But while he inadvertently be- 
 gan to mention some of the blessed expressions which 
 dropt from the dying lips of Mr. Chipman, the grief 
 of the poor widow was rekindled almost a t s "bad as 
 ever. She sat sighing and sobbing all the evening ; 
 but as I charged her tomake no more of those ve- 
 hement exclamations against herself, she said little, 
 but wept much. At length she cried, " Father may 
 I be permitted to see my dear child ?" He answer- 
 ed, ' - My dear, you had better wait till to-morrow, 
 till your spirits are a little more calm ;" and in this 
 advice she peaceably acquiesced. 
 
 Wor. But I should suppose, she had another dif- 
 ficulty to surmount, in returning back to her hus- 
 band's house. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir ! the very mention of her return 
 thither, quite overset her again. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. And it was enough to overset her. 
 What woman who was once blessed with such a hus- 
 band, who had lost his life through her brutish con- 
 
260 
 
 duct, could bear to return and find him absent? and 
 what sleep could she expect, while lying on the 
 bed she had so treacherously forsaken; and on which 
 her husband had died of a broken heart ? 
 
 Loveg. No doubt, but such must have been her 
 reflections, and painful ones they truly were. The 
 slaves of sin have bad wages for their slavery. But 
 when Mr. Reader mentioned whether she chose to 
 stop a day or two with him, or goto her own house, 
 her grief became nearly as excessive as before. She 
 cried, " Oh, that I could but have lived a thousand 
 miles from the place, which brings to my recollec- 
 tion so strongly every circumstance of my most vile 
 and treacherous conduct ! But if my return should 
 be the cause of breaking my own heart with grief, it 
 will become me to submit to the most righteous judg- 
 ment of God, should I be carried from the same bed 
 with a broken heart to my dear husband's grave." 
 Mr. Reader said, " My dear Jemima, you shall not 
 leave my house till your spirits are more recruited ; 
 but I'll send for your child to-morrow morning, and 
 you shall see it." Thus matters were settled ; and af- 
 ter family prayer, I left Mrs. Chipman in possession 
 of the bed designed for me, and got myself accommo- 
 dations at the inn : and sad accommodations they 
 were. 
 
 TVor. What sort of accommodations then had 
 you? 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, the bed was good enough, but 
 in the next room, there was a meeting of some club; 
 and the partition being very thin, I was obliged to 
 submit to hear all their noise and nonsense, inter- 
 mixed with language the most blasphemous and ob* 
 scene, till about two o'clock in the morning ; and 
 their horrid songs which they began singing* when 
 they were half drunk, were worse than all. At 
 length, however, the landlord came in, and begged 
 
261 
 
 them to Break up. What a mercy to be redeemed 
 from the filthy conversation of the wicked! 
 
 ff'or. Things would not have gone half so far, if 
 honest Edward, of the Golden Lion, had been the 
 keeper of the inn. I'll engage for it, you would have 
 rather been accommodated with some good clean 
 straw in a stable. 
 
 Loveg. A thousand times : how much preferable 
 the company of natural brute beasts than the compa- 
 ny of those who are brutalized by sin. But as it was 
 found an insurmountable difficulty to get Mrs. Chip- 
 man home, at least while I was there, I afterwards 
 slept at her house, while she continued to occupy 
 the bed designed for me at her father's. 
 
 Wor. It would have been a desirable event, if she 
 could have surmounted that difficulty while you were 
 there, that she might have been persuaded to have 
 engaged herself in some family concerns. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, for the present, the sight of any of 
 her old acquaintance fills her with immediate con- 
 sternation. She has kept herself a close prisoner 
 ever since she entered into her father's house. 
 
 Wor. How then did she act on the Sunday you 
 preached there ? 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, she was nearly as much affected 
 as she was on the Wednesday evening, when wc 
 first arrived : her anxiety to attend militated so 
 strongly against the sense of shame.— I therefore 
 thought it best to come to advise her father to lay 
 his injunctions, upon her not to come to church oil 
 that Sunday, as she would have been a public spec- 
 tacle to all the congregation. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Certainly it was the best advice, though- 
 the shame she ieit is neither to be lamented nor 
 wondered at. Indeed I always thought this the best 
 evidence that her repentance was genuine. 
 
 Loveg. That it certainly was. The Apas#ejspeaks 
 
 Z 2 
 
262 
 
 of those things, whereof the really converted chris- 
 tian is now ashamed; and that they shall be made 
 to know that it is "even a shame to speak of those 
 things done of them in secret." I ever suspect the 
 genuine repentance of those, who seem to express 
 themselves with a degree of carnal indifference 
 respecting their old sins, under a vain confidence, 
 that they are now forgiven. I wish such sort of be- 
 lievers would but recollect that there is such a grace 
 as '" repentance towards God," as well as " Faith 
 towards our Lord Jesus Christ." I hope, notwith- 
 standing, Mrs. Chipman will soon have sufficient 
 evidence to believe that God has forgiven her, 
 though I am sure she will never forgive herself. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. But how did she bear the sight of her 
 child, which was to be introduced the next morning, 
 according to promise ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, sir, while we were at breakfast, 
 Mr. Reader went out and brought it in ; one of the 
 most lovely cheerful babes I think I ever beheld, 
 springing in its nurse's arms, and sweetly smiling at 
 its grandfather. He took and placed it upon the mo- 
 ther's lap, she looked at it, watered it with her tears, 
 affectionately embraced it, and then began quoting 
 that text which had so impressed her mind : " Can a 
 woman forget her sucking child, that she should not 
 have compassion on the son of her womb !" and then 
 quite fainted away. The child was taken from her, 
 and as soon as she was able she was led up into her 
 chamber, where she continued most of the day. 
 
 Wor. What misery this poor creature has entailed 
 upon her own mind. But did she make any further 
 efforts to surmount her feelings, as it respected her 
 child ? 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir, I believe several. But every at- 
 tempt she made was with the same cutting reflec- 
 tions against herself. Sir, we, who are blessed with 
 
263 
 
 children, and with a parental love towards them,, 
 may judge what she felt, when she was recovered by 
 the grace of God, from that brutalized state of mind 
 winch possessed her while she was captivated by 
 that unprincipled monster of iniquity. However, 
 towards the latter end of my stay, she would v now 
 and then attempt to smile on her child, while every 
 smile returned by the child would be sure to bring 
 a fresh tear from her eye. 
 
 Wor. It is well, if the child don't lose both its pa* 
 rents by the same unhappy event. 
 
 Loveg. Sometimes I fear this will be the case ; at 
 other times I have my hopes that she will still sur- 
 vive her grief. I requested Mr. Reader to set her 
 about some household affairs, and to try to divert 
 her attention by the use of the needle, and this was 
 done with some success. Though oftentimes while 
 she has been at her work, she would bedew it with 
 her tears, till completely overcome by the recollec- 
 tion of her former misconduct ; she would then en- 
 tirely lay her w ork aside, and again give way to the 
 excessive grief of her mind. 
 
 Wor. It must have been exceedingly distressing to 
 her poor father, to have seen her overpowered by 
 such excessive grief. 
 
 Loveg. The grief of the parent was nearly equal 
 to that of the daughter, though he exemplified asto- 
 nishing patience on the occasion. All his affection 
 seems entirely restored ; he loves her now as much 
 as ever he once could blame her. It is amazing, 
 what the forgiving love and converting grace of God 
 ^loes on the hearts of all the children of God, 
 
 Wor. Did she not in any degree recover her spirits 
 while you were there ? 
 
 Loveg. I humbly trust she did : there were such 
 cheering prospects of good, which attended the di- 
 vine services on the Sunday, as revived the hearts of 
 
264" 
 
 all ; though my final departure from Locksbury ex- 
 ceedingly depressed her spirits. 
 
 Wor. That must have been a very trying moment 
 between you both. 
 
 Loveg. I am sure, sir, I could not have sustained 
 the concluding interview without a veiy consider- 
 able injury to her feelings and my own : I therefore 
 took my farewel by sending her a letter, and at the 
 same time I composed for her a penitential hymn. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Do, sir, let us see a copy of it. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, madam, my poor rhymes scarcely de- 
 serve the name of poetry ; if I had by me a correct 
 copy, it would never be worth your perusal. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Leave us to judge of that ; we must 
 hear it. 
 
 After much persuasion, Mr. Lovegood submitted. 
 He is a man of uncommon modesty, though of con- 
 siderable ability. He lives much, as Moses did, on 
 the mount with God : and as this made Moses's face 
 to shine, " though he wist not that his face shone," 
 when he came down from the mount, to do the 
 work of God below : so also it is with Mr. Love- 
 good, though, in my opinion, he shines less as a 
 poet, than as a divine. However, from some short- 
 hand notes he had in his pocket book, he delivered 
 the following hymn, supposing it to be the genuine 
 experience before God of an humbled sinner of her 
 description, panting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ unto eternal life. 
 
 THE HYMN. 
 
 And must 1 sink beneath my ioad f 
 By weighty guilt bcrne down ? 
 
 How can I bear the heavy rod, 
 Of G>;d's eternal frown ? 
 
265 
 
 Who can thy righteous pow'r withstand, 
 
 Or who thy wrath restrain ? 
 "But mercy still withholds thy hand, 
 
 And lets me here remain. 
 
 Why should'st thou yet forbear to slay, 
 
 If not inclin'd to spare ? 
 Shall I then fling all hope away, 
 
 And yield to wild despair ? 
 
 This were my sad account to swell, 
 
 Too big to be forgiv'n ; 
 All sins lead down to death and hell, 
 
 But this shuts out from heav'n. 
 
 No ; still I'll hope for grace divine, 
 
 That mercy may abound ; 
 Others with guilt, as vile as mine, 
 
 Have still thy mercy found. 
 
 Peter deny'd his blessed Lord, 
 With base blaspheming breath ; 
 
 Paul rag'd against his heavenly word, 
 And hunted saints to death. 
 
 What tho' a Magdalene had been 
 Of seven foul fiends possess'd ? 
 
 Yet Peter, Paul, and Magdalene, 
 Were with forgiveness bless'd. 
 
 And why not I this grace obtain ? 
 
 Did not my Saviour die ! 
 Or did he shed his blood in Tain, 
 
 To ransom such as I ? 
 
 O ! let me hear thy gracious call ; 
 
 " Come thou, with guilt oppress'd P 
 " On me let all thy burthens fall, 
 
 " I give the weary rest." f 
 
 The door I trust is open still, 
 Whate'er my guilt has been, 
 
 And, since 'tis my Redeemer's will, 
 I'll humbly enter in. 
 
Job 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Well, sir, we are, I dare say, all of 
 opinion that you need riot have been so much asha- 
 med of your poetry : But, oh, what a mercy to be 
 kept from the evil propensities of our corrupted 
 hearts, and to be under the sanctifying influences of 
 God's most blessed Spirit ! 
 
 JLoveg. Yes, madam, the b awe enjoy in 
 
 this world in being so graciously converted, so mer- 
 cifully preserved and kept, are inexpressible ; in the 
 next they will be infinite. 
 
 Airs. Wor. Oh,' sir, how shall we .sufficiently ex- 
 press ourselves for the kind providence which sent 
 you among us? Mr. Worthy and I both felt we 
 wanted something, but we knew not what. 
 
 This observation of Mrs. Worthy coming home 
 rather personally to Mr. Lovegocd, rendered the 
 conversation desultory, though still edifying. It 
 turned upon the following subject, " What is there, 
 which thou hast not received ?" But as the author 
 aims at an abridgement of every subject, remember- 
 ing the old Greek proverb, " A great book, a great 
 evil; 55 he begs leave to close the present dialogue, 
 and resume the subject when the conversation may 
 be more to the point 
 
267 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXII. 
 
 BETWEEN THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS 
 AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 
 
 CONTAINING THE .CHARACTER OF MR, FRIBBLE, AND SOME 
 FURTHER NARRATION OF EVENTS OCCASIONED BY MR. 
 LOVEGOOd's VISIT TO LOCKSBURY. 
 
 JVor. T X T ELL, sir, you have now told us all you 
 * * know respecting Mrs. Chipman: wernust 
 request you next to tell us how it tared with you on 
 the Sunday. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, you should first ask me how it fared 
 with me on the Saturday. 
 
 Wor. Begin where you like. But we want to know 
 how you succeeded with Mr. Fribble, according to 
 the dying request of Mr. Chipman. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, after Mr. Reader had sent him 
 word of my arrival, he came and called on us. I 
 found him as complete a puppy as ever I met with 
 in my life ; and he invited me and Mr. Reader, with 
 a vast deal of affectation, (for his father it seems was 
 a dancing master) to tea with him, as he was pleased 
 to express himself, on the Saturday evening. 
 
 Wor. Did you accept the invitation ? 
 
 Loveg. I conceived it was not in my power to say 
 No : but I told Mr. Reader it could be only on the 
 condition that he should go with me ; and we had 
 such a dose ! 
 
 JVor. I suppose you found him to be a most curi- 
 
268 
 
 ous sprig of divinity, according to the fashionable 
 taste of the day. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. How could you hit it offtogether ? 
 
 Loveg. Why 5 first, madam, he began bowing and 
 scraping, with such an abundance of compliments, 
 that I could not tell what to do with them. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Not with one half of them, I suppose. 
 
 Loveg. No — nor with one quarter of them, ma- 
 dam. 
 
 Wor. After the compliments were all over, how 
 did you proceed ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he began chattering away at a most 
 extraordinary rate. But the first thing which struck 
 me was trie furniture of his roorcu On one peg 
 were hung a pair of skaits with red Morocco straps; 
 on another his violin ; at another place his bows 
 and arrows were exhibited, as he was a member of 
 an archers' club ; over his chimney-piece were piled 
 his gttn and other accoutrements for that sport, with 
 two or three dog-collars ; then there was his back- 
 gammon-table, his cribbage-board, and, among other 
 pretty play things, he had his battledores and shut- 
 tlecocks. 
 
 Wor. From the furniture of his room, you might 
 easily guess the furniture of his head. 
 
 Loveg. I thought that was more easily described, 
 by what appeared on two or three shelves of books 
 he called his library, containing little, as I could 
 find, but a parcel of plays, loose poetry, and empty 
 novels. 
 
 Wor. Had he no books of divinity ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he had a few trumpery pamphlets, 
 and among the rest he had one book somewhat bet- 
 ter bound than the others, called " The Religion of a 
 police Gentleman. 5 ' 
 
 Wor. In the name of wonder what sort of a book 
 can that be? 
 
269 
 
 Loveg. I should suppose a jumble of affectation 
 and religious compliments. I asked him, however, 
 out of curiosity, what were its contents? He dL- 
 rectly auswered, he had only read a little in the mid- 
 dle of it ; but that the author plainly proved that no 
 gentleman should be over morose in his religion, and 
 that th^s was supposed to be the fault of St. Paul, for 
 that he was bred a Sadducee. 
 
 Wor. A Sadducee ! Did he not mean a Pharisee ? 
 
 Loveg. I suppose he might, but that he did not 
 know the one from the other. 
 
 Wor. And had he no other religious publications 
 besides ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he had a book called " Ecton's The- 
 saurus Ecclesiae Anglicanae." 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Sir, we don't understand what these 
 Latin titles to books of divinity mean. 
 
 Loveg. Why, madam", it means, " The Treasury 
 of the English Church." 
 
 Wor. I suppose then he had one good book at 
 least ; for in the Liturgy, Articles, and Homilies, 
 there is a treasure of divinity, remarkably good and 
 sound : and it is wonderful how well calculated those 
 writings against popery are, to confute the modern 
 protestantism of the day. 
 
 Loveg. O, sir, Ecton's Thesaurus contains no- 
 thing but an account of the worth of different liv- 
 ings, and all other church preferments. If I were to 
 give it another name, it should be, A Guide to Prefer- 
 ment-hunters; though they commonly call it among 
 themselves, The Parson* s Bible. 
 
 Wor. What could be the style of the conversation 
 of this poor creature ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, the most empty and frivolous imagi- 
 nable. At first, as I did not, according to Mr. Rea- 
 der's desire, introduce religion too hastily, lest I 
 should forfeit the use of the pulpit ; he supposed that 
 
 Vol. II. A a 
 
270 
 
 I had not much more to do with it than himself; 
 only he conceived I might be of a more grave and 
 phlegmatic turn of mind ; and that I was njine orator, 
 as he called it. 
 
 % Wor. I suppose this idea respecting your turn of 
 mind must have had some check upon his frothy 
 talk. 
 
 Loveg. Not in the least; his chatter was incessant. 
 He first began asking me, if I lived in a good sport- 
 ing country. I waved it, and said, I was fond of 
 my study, that I had a large family, and a good deal 
 to do in my parish ; and that I had really no time for 
 such amusements. He then said, " he confessed he 
 was of another turn ; and that. he could not see the 
 need of muzzing over a set of books all the day long." 
 Then he went on telling me what a wonderful deal 
 of game he had killed that season with one Esquire 
 Madcap, a strange wild young fellow, who lives in 
 those parts. Then, all at once, he cried, " Oh, sir, 
 you really came a day after the fair ; for Mr. Mad- 
 cap, our young Esquire, who lives about three miles 
 off, treated us with a horse-race ; and really, sir, we 
 had charming sport." I answered, I supposed it might 
 be to them that liked it. But hints of that sort did 
 him no good, for on he went, crying, u Really, sir, 
 between the pleasures of the horse course in the 
 mornings, and the card parties and balls in the even- 
 ings, we were all alive." 
 
 tt r or. Did you not tell him, it was much to be 
 lamented, that the people of his spiritual charge, 
 could not be kept alive, without the aids of cards, 
 balls, and horse races. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I said to him, what was their life 
 would be my death; and he immediately cried, " Oh, 
 my stars and garters ! I think you was born under 
 a strange planet." 
 
 Mrs. Wor. A strange one, I suppose, to him ; but 
 how did he proceed ? 
 
271 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he said, I entertained very different 
 notions of religion to Mr. Archdeacon Wildblood, 
 for that he not only was at the horse-race, but that 
 he rode his own horse ; yet he did not sport a solo, 
 for that another clergyman, young Bob Dapper, 
 rode his horse as well as the Archdeacon. 
 
 JFor. Indeed, this is worse than bad. What must 
 be expected from a church, while some among its 
 very dignitaries are not even masked with common 
 decency ! But was the rattle of this empty creature 
 correctly stated? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, when I asked Mr. Reader how far this 
 circumstance was true, he told me, that an Arch- 
 deacon, known by the^name of Jack Wildblood, 
 actually rode his own horse ; and that, before com- 
 mon decency was insulted by turning Jack into a 
 Parson, and afterwards into an Archdeacon, he 
 was an officer in the army ; and that, after having 
 made his calculations, he discovered, from family 
 connexions, it was probable that things spiritual 
 would pay him better than things temporal*. 
 
 Report also says, that while on the horse course 
 his stirrup unfortunately broke, and that he sxvore 
 at the mob most profanely to get out of the w r ay, 
 lest, as he could not manage his horse, he should 
 ride over them ; but his excuse, it seems, is, he 
 does not swear as the Archdeacon, but as the Cap- 
 tain f . 
 
 JFor. We all remember an anecdote respecting a 
 certain German prince-bishop, who was much given 
 
 * Report says, some of these military parsons are still on half pay. 
 
 f If the reader objects to the above, supposing that circumstances must 
 have been exaggerated, I answer, would to God they could be contra- 
 dicted ! But he may be assured, that, however bad things may be with 
 us, they are actually worse in Ireland. I was told, when there the last 
 summer, of a Dean who is as complete a jockey, and as finished a Jack 
 Wildblood, as the person who is represented above. 
 
272 
 
 to swearing.; and when accused of it, especially as 
 being such a great indecency in a bishop, his answer 
 was, he did not swear as the bishop, but as the prince. 
 And the next question naturally asked was, if the 
 prince went to the devil for swearing, what would 
 become of the bishop? Now just the same question 
 rests between the captain and the archdeacon. But 
 how could this poor brainless creature run on at such 
 a rate ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he ran on as fast as ever, exposing 
 himself and his fraternity at a strange rate ; though 
 it seems Mr. Reader played poor young Bob Dapper 
 a sad trick. 
 
 JVor. What was that ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, the worthy old gentleman, feeling 
 himself offejided at the loose conduct of these giddy 
 chaps, made a sermon on this text, " So run that ye 
 may obtain," in which he lashed these abominable 
 indecencies pretty severely. And this sermon young 
 Bob Dapper bought of Mr. Reader, who sold it him 
 under the idea that it was suitable to the season. He 
 supposed it to be a thanksgiving sermon suitable af- 
 ter a plentiful harvest ; whereas Mr. Reader compo- 
 sed it as being a suitable reproof, during the season 
 of such an abominable outrage against all the rules 
 of decency and good order. * Poor Bob, therefore, 
 after having procured the sermon, came home from 
 
 * Were the ministers of the church of Scotland, or of many other Pro- 
 testant churches, to act a part nearly as inconsistent, they would soon be 
 brought into better order. If it be added, that it is to be hoped such in- 
 stances are rare ; it is answered, it is much to be lamented that they ex- 
 ist at all. The evil consequences of these things are incalculable. If a 
 set of such clergy as these are found to complain that a set of preaching 
 Taylors, Barbers, and Cobblers, not having priestly authority, interrupt 
 them in what they call their duty, let them look at home for the cause, 
 mend their own manners, universally preach and live the doctrines* of the 
 Church of England, and see if these Cobblers, at least the most of them, 
 will not stick to their stalls; the Barbers keep to their blocks, and the 
 Taylors to their goose. 
 
273 
 
 his sports, so late on the Saturday night, or rather 
 so early on the Sunday morning, that he had no time 
 to read it over, but trusted entirely to the good 
 writing of Mr. Reader. Thus this redoubtable spi- 
 ritual jockey, who was once " moved by the Holy 
 Ghost to take upon him the sacred office of the mi- 
 nistry,^ took out this sermon and began to read it. 
 J'For. And the whole of it, I should suppose, was a 
 most pointed declamation against his ow r n conduct.* 
 
 i Some talk of persecuting these poor creatures : but before they begin 
 upon the business, it may be well if they first would ask themselves if an 
 innocent well intentioned man with a few good brains in his head, and the 
 grace of God in his heart, be not likely to give better instruction in point of 
 religion than such a, set, so ordained, and from such motives, as are too 
 generally sent to fill the church, and then determine if it would be wise-, 
 or politic, or just, to put such preachers under the castigation of the law. 
 If the plea be, that folly and enthusiasm ought to be corrected, the an- 
 swer is, leave it alone and it will correct itself. But from what has already 
 been exhibited, others may deserve chastisement as well as the wildest 
 enthusiast in the land. 
 
 * During the time of Mr. Madcap's revel, Mr, Reader mentioned an- 
 other circumstance which occurred, and which equally proved the incon- 
 sistency of these things, as belonging to the character of a Christian, and 
 In a ten-fold more aggravated point of view, when exhibited in the cha- 
 racter of a Christian Minister. 
 
 Soon after the business of the horse-race and all concomitant diver- 
 sions were concluded, the bishop of the diocese came about those parts 
 to visit and confirm. Previous. to this,, he very properly sent his circular 
 advice among the clergy, to put into the hands of the young candidates for 
 confirmation some small devotional exercises, by way of impressing their 
 minds with a suitable improvement on that occasion. Among others 
 who came to take a more moderate and sanctified peep at these fooleries, 
 was the R.ev. Mr. Demure; and yet, that he might act consistently with 
 the bishop's direction, while he had been enjoying these things accord- 
 ing to the real appetite of his mind, (like a man who would now and then 
 indulge himself with a little carrion as a rarity,) he wrote to Mr. Pleader 
 *-on the subject, supposing that he could make their devotions for them as 
 well as their sermons. Mr. Demure's letter and Mr. Reader's answer to 
 it may not be unacceptable, as it may throw a further lighten the same 
 subject. ;- 
 
 ** SIR, _ ' 
 
 «« According to the laudable advice of our worthy Diocesan, we are 
 desired to lay before the young people, who may be judged fit for confir- 
 mation, some small devotional tracts, that afterwards they may be pxo- 
 
 A a 2 
 
S>74 
 
 Loveg. Sir, Mr. Reader told me he laid it on as 
 thick as ever he could, and thus poor Bob, after a 
 sho;t introduction, began exclaiming against horse 
 races as the worst of revels; and that, H reveliiners 
 and suchlike,' 5 were strongly prohibited : asking the 
 
 perly instructed how to do their duty and to say their prayers. I apply to 
 you, sir, for assistance, as you know this week we have been pr»tty much 
 engaged in seeing our friends, who came in great abundance to partake of 
 the amusements of Mr. Madcap's horse-race, so that we have not had 
 sufficient time to attend the pastoral admonition his lordship has con- 
 descended to send us ; and, as you can make such excellent sermons for 
 us, I have no doubt but you can make some devotions also, which we mean 
 to get printed, and distributed as directed by his lordship. Though I am 
 sorry to say, that some of the clergy did not properly attend to the rules of 
 decency and good order, yet, I'll assure you, sir, others of us, thank the 
 Almighty, considered our duty, and came home in due time, so as not to suf- 
 fer our innocent diversions to interrupt our devotions, 
 M I am, sir, 
 
 ** Your obedient humble servant, 
 
 " PETER DEMURE.* 1 
 
 Mr. Reader, not a little ©Sended at the inconsistent sanctimonious pre- 
 tensions of Mr. Demure, returned the following answer : 
 
 «' rev. sir, 
 
 *• I have received your proposal to draw out some devotional exercises 
 for the young candidates for confirmation. 
 
 " As to myself, had I inclination, I confess, under present circumstan- 
 ces, I wish to decline the work, as I am now satisfied it is high time for the 
 clergy to convene themselves together, and enlarge the plan by composing 
 such sort of devotions as will be suitable to their diversions, that the world 
 may be convinced respecting them, (for they begin to be much suspected,) 
 that according to a scripture rule " whatever they do in word and deed, 
 they do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the 
 Father by him." 
 
 ** Now what I conceive will prove a high recommendation to this pub- 
 lication is, that the plan will be entirely new ; for though it has been said 
 there is nothing new under the sun, I believe devotional exercises of this 
 sort have never as yet made their appearance ; while at the same time, rt 
 wili prove a capital criterion of the innocency of the diversions themselves. 
 Whatsoever we do, that we can ask G.od's blessing upon, will never do us 
 harm. 
 
 m First, for the mottoes to this publication '; and these will be best found 
 an the Bible : 
 
 ** Pray without ceasing. 
 
 ** Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and 
 patching thereunto with all perseverance. 
 «♦ Continuing instant In prayer. 
 
275 
 
 question, how any but the friends of debauchery and 
 riot could sanction such revels by their presence V 
 and how any christians, who take the Bible as the 
 model of their Christianity, could presume to pa- 
 tronize, by their presence, such exhibitions of mad 
 and wanton riot, which so notoriously abounded du- 
 ring" these seasons of entire dissipation ? Then poor 
 
 " Now from these texts the real Christian is at least directed to conti- 
 nue in a perpetual aptitude for prayer. 
 
 " To the pious compilers of this new publication I beg leave to recom- 
 mend the composing some forms of prayer on the following occasions. 
 
 " A devout supplication before going to a tragedy. 
 
 ie Another before going to a comedy. 
 
 " A short form of prayer, to be said before a farce. 
 
 " Another prayer also may be necessary before going to a harle- 
 quin entertainment, or a masquerade. 
 
 " Then let the reverend composers of this new work direct their devout 
 disciples not to omit any of the accustomed forms before going to bed ; 
 but, as a proof of their proper gratitude to almighty God for such blessed 
 innocent amusements, let them add a thanksgiving prayer, which, for the 
 sake of avoiding prolixity, may be made equally -suitable to each of the 
 above mentioned occasions ; and then the title to such a piece of devotion 
 will run thus. * A Thanksgiving Prayer, to be said after returning from 
 a Comedy, Tragedy, Farce, Masquerade, or Harlequin Entertainment.' 
 
 u And, as short titles sound best, I next advise a Puppet Shew Prayer, 
 that people's heads may be made wiser , and their hearts better by their 
 devout attendance thereon. 
 
 " As children also take much delight in scenery, such as dancing dolls, 
 he. whether they be large or small, it might not be amiss to make a reli- 
 gious use of these pretty jump-abouts t for the good of the rising gene- 
 ration, by never suffering them to go to a puppet shew, a play, or a ball, 
 unless they can say pretty pat, at least, the first of the three things their 
 dtr.-out God-fathers and God-mothers engaged for them in baptism, that 
 they should renounce the devil and all bis works, the pomps and vanities of 
 this picked vjorld, and all the sirjul lusts of the flesh. But to finish the plan 
 of this new intended Manual, which I would recommend to be short, that 
 it may be snug and portable for the pocket, as also fit to be bound up with 
 the Week's Preparation, or the Companion to the Altar, should there not 
 be a proper prayer also made before going into a ball-room, and another 
 after returning therefrom ? A prayer also may be necessary before a card 
 assembly, together with a few holy ejaculations, tf» be said between the 
 deals. I would also recommend having a huntsman's prayer, and a horse 
 racer's prayer, especially for such of the reverend clergy as commence 
 th'.:ir own jockies, that the Almighty might protect them from breaking 
 their necks, while they are exposing the pure and holy religion of the 
 Gospel to the ridicule and contempt of the profanest people of the world. 
 I lastly ask the question if those amusements which will not bend into de- 
 votion are fit for the clergy, as their very office demands it of them, that 
 they should be devout at all times ; and whether any recreations can, is 
 
sJre 
 
 Bob again cried out against himself, " Feign to your- 
 selves how preposterous would be the sight ; should 
 that very sacred character, of all others the most 
 mortified and devoted to God, exhibit as a public 
 Jockey, for the diversion and scoif of the most wicked 
 and profane:" asking them,. Whether they had taken 
 the model of their religion from the wanton tricks of 
 a set of heathens at their Olympic games, or from the 
 holy word of God ? 
 
 Wor. Oh, poor Bob ! how he was taken in ! how 
 could he g;o on ? 
 
 Lovcg. It seem he hummed and hawed, and stut- 
 tered r;nd stammered; took out his handkerchief and 
 wiped his face again and again ; turned over two or 
 three leaves at a time, but found it all just as bad ; 
 got out of the pulpit as fast as he could, and swore 
 he would tell the Archdeacon what a trick that 
 sanctified fellow, old Reader, had put upon him. ' 
 
 IVor. How in the world could he face his parish- 
 ioners after this ? 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, he has but few of them to face. 
 Men of this cast are sure to empty their churches ; 
 but it should seem all his comrades had something 
 to say to him ; one asked him, Who made his ser- 
 
 any wise, be admissible among them, but such as leave them at full liber- 
 ty to devote themselves to God and for the people's good. Wishing that 
 you and all the clergy may be as much a credit to their office, as their of- 
 fice itself would then be a credit to them. * 
 
 " I am, 
 
 11 Rev. Sir, 
 1 Your obedient humble servant, 
 
 "JAMES READER." 
 
 It may easily be supposed that Mr. Reader lost not a little of his custom 
 in the business of sermon-making. Mr. Demure, however, charitably con- 
 cluded that he was a little deranged through family misfortunes, and so 
 it passed off. 
 
 * Some of these thoughts appeared in a former publication; which was 
 not intended for extensive circulation. 
 
277 
 
 mon for him ? Another wondered, how he came so 
 dreadfully to quarrel with himself? A third asked 
 him, if his great-grandfather was not an old puritan, 
 and whether he was not so much in a hurry as to 
 take up some of the leaves of one of his old long- 
 winded sermons ? Poor Bob, it seems, laughed it off 
 as well as he could. And thus ended this most dis- 
 graceful farce. 
 
 Mrs. JVor. Could Mr. Fribble approve of the eon- 
 duet of Bob and the Archdeacon? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he confessed, that Mr. Archdeacon 
 Wiidblood rather went a little too far, but that the 
 clergy were flesh and blood as well as others; and 
 that one of his best sermons was written upon this 
 text: " We also are men of like passions with you." 
 And when I told him, how dangerous it w r as to in- 
 terpret the Scriptures according to the coarse vul- 
 gar sound of words, as thereby we might entirely 
 pervert them, from their original most holy sense and 
 design; he cried, " I beg your pardon, sir, but why 
 may'nt my notions onthattext be as good as yours?" 
 
 Wor. Could he then be so weak as to suppose 
 that our Lord's first apostles might be as wicked 
 as a set of heathens, by having the like corrupted 
 passions with others ; and, especially, when they 
 came to preach the pure and holy dispensation of the 
 Gospel, which directs and enables us to lay aside all 
 our impure desires, and to " perfect holiness in the 
 fear of the Lord?" ■ 
 
 Loveg. I suppose he had not a thought, as it re- 
 lated to the connexion of the words, that the apos- 
 tles were only entreating the poor heathens not to 
 worship them as gods. But I have heard, before 
 now, that the same passage has been pressed into the 
 service of licentiousness by these inconsistent preach- 
 ers of morality. 
 
278 
 
 Wor. Instead of being preachers of morality, what 
 are such better than apologizers for sensuality? But 
 what had he to say for himself? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he said, he thought the text might 
 be taken two ways ; yet, as to himself, he had no 
 great notion of frightening people by being " right- 
 eous over much f" though, for his own part, he 
 was very sorry people did not keep Good Friday 
 more strictly than they had done of late years ; * and 
 that these were the sentiments of his father and mo- 
 ther before him. 
 
 PFor. What could you say to all this rattle ? * 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, sir, he gave me no time to say 
 #ny thing, for he next began chattering away about 
 the balls and card-parties they had in the tow r ri 
 during the winter season ; and then observed, how 
 impossible it was to spend a set of long dull nights, 
 one after another, without something to prevent jo- 
 vial minds from being hipped to death. Then he 
 directly asked me, what were my favourite games at 
 cards? but instead of waiting for my answer, which, 
 by the bye, would have puzzled me, he began cry- 
 ing out about a Miss Peggy Prim, a famous dancer 
 in their town ; and how she moved like an angel ; 
 and though Mr. Reader cautioned me against religi- 
 ous topics with him, yet I could not but observe, 
 that I did not think a set of silly Misses in a ball- 
 room moved like angels. 
 
 Wor. How did he take your hints ? 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, the shatter-brained creature took 
 no notice of my remarks ; but went on chattering 
 away about what an elegant skaiter young Mr. Dap- 
 per was, and that though he was reckoned a pretty 
 good dab at it himself, yet how glad he should be if 
 he could but exhibit in the same manner ; and how r 
 
 * The author is as much for keeping Good Friday as Mr. Fribble, not- 
 withstanding the superstitious abuse of the day among some. 
 
279 
 
 he and young Dapper, one rainy day, when they 
 could do nothing else, played at battledore and shut- 
 tlecock, and that they kept up the shuttlecock two 
 thousand and fourteen times before they let it drop ; 
 and that they performed this wonderful feat with- 
 in the space of twenty minutes and then cried — 
 " WasiVt that clever ?" 
 
 Wor. Some people are children all the days of 
 their lives. One would have thought he had scarcely 
 left off whipping his top, or driving his hoop. But 
 is he not a great man for archery also ? 
 
 Loveg. He is fond of every thing that will intro- 
 duce him to shew his empty airs among the giddy 
 and the gay. But, at length, I thought my patience 
 would have been quite exhausted : for after tea, he 
 took down his fiddle, and began playing with his 
 tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, and cried, " This 
 is the first air my father taught me." Then he said, 
 " Did you ever hear that charming fellow Giardini? 
 he is certainly the first violin player in the king- 
 dom. " - And when I observed, I never heard of 
 that gentleman's name before, he exclaimed, " Odds 
 bobs ! I think you know nobody ;" and then on he 
 went, skipping and fiddling about the room like a 
 monkey; and would, every now-and-then, be asking 
 me how I liked this, and how I liked that ; and when 
 I 'said, that none, of them .suited my taste, he cried 
 out, "By Jove, sir, you seem to like nothing !" 
 I just gave him the hint, that I supposed he princi- 
 pally read heathen authors, a$ he had been taught 
 to swear by their gods ; and immediately Mr. Rea- 
 der took up the cudgels for me, by saying, I was 
 fond of such conversation as had in it something that 
 was rational and instructive. So he hung up his 
 fiddle, left off skipping about the room, and sat 
 down. 
 
 Wor. I fear he was set upon a hard task, if lie 
 
280 
 
 was only to talk about that which was rational and 
 instructive. 
 
 Loveg. Why directly upon this, he began com- 
 plimenting me upon the supposed powers of my 
 oratory, because I had persuaded Mrs. Chipman, 
 though once so bad a woman, to renounce her con- 
 nexion with Sir Charles ; and how much the curi- 
 osity of the people was raised ; and what a fine ser- 
 mon they expected from me ; and that there was 
 one great orator about those parts called Dr. Puff; 
 and that he had done all in his power to make him- 
 self such an orator by reading over Shakspeare's 
 plays, and by studying Mr. Garrick's directions 
 for reading the Common Prayer ; yet he never could 
 come up to the Doctor : and when I began telling* 
 him, that the change accomplished was not done 
 by my oratory, but by the grace of God, he directly, 
 with a great deal of complaisance, replied, " O 
 surely, sir, it was by the grace of God, and your 
 oratory put together. 55 
 
 JVor. I dare say he would have chattered with 
 you upon any subject you chose. 
 
 Loveg. I suppose he would ; for Mr. Reader says, 
 the poor vain thing is very good tempered. How- 
 ever, he entertained us fpr awhile with the history 
 of Sir Charles Dash ; that he was once in company 
 with him, but that he was not in the habit of telling 
 those great people what was their duty ; that his mo- 
 ther, Lady Dash, was still living ; and that she was 
 a great church-goer ; and how mad the minister of 
 the parish was at her for being almost the only one 
 who came to Wednesday and Friday prayers when 
 lie wanted to drop them : that she scarce ever missed 
 the sacrament, and that she was much stricter in 
 her religion than people are now-a-days. Then, all 
 at once, he burst out, and observed, " The clergy of 
 our day seem to diiFer about how strict we shouid be 
 
281 
 
 in our religion ; Pray what are your notions on that 
 point?" And when I began to tell him of St. Paul's 
 account of the Christian minister, and the Christian 
 ministry ; he again immediately interrupted me, by 
 crying, " Upon my word and honour, sir, I confess 
 I don't pretend to understand St. Paul ; and I know 
 some of the clergy who are of opinion, that people 
 would have been quite wise enough in their religion, 
 if we had only the four Gospels, without any of the 
 Epistles." 
 
 TVor. I remember some years ago, that a vehe- 
 ment anonymous pamphlet made its appearance 
 against the writings and character of St. Paul, re- 
 commending to the bishops, that all the New Testa- 
 ment should be suppressed, excepting the four Gos- 
 pels ; as all the Epistles, especially those of St Paul, 
 had a tendency to promote a spirit of enthusiasm 
 and methodism, as he called it throughout the land; 
 and this book he dedicated to one of our bishops. * 
 
 Wor. How could you answer such a mere rattle? 
 
 Loveg. Really, sir, he saved me all that trouble ; 
 for he had no sooner said one thing, but without 
 waiting for an answer, he would start something else, 
 quite foreign to the subject. All at once he cried, 
 
 Oh, sir, as you come from near Mapieton, per- 
 haps you may know Mr. Jack-a-dandy. He is my 
 iirst cousin ; our mothers were two sisters, the two 
 Miss Pratdes, that lived somewhere about those 
 parts before they were married." I gravely said, 
 Yes, I have heard there is such a voune; .clergyman 
 who lives in the next parish tq Dr.. Orderly. Mr. 
 Fribble immediately cried, " Dr. Orderly! aj<e, Dr. 
 Orderly ! what a queer old quiz of a fellow he is! he 
 always puts me in mind of old square toes. I suppose 
 
 * I remember this horrid production made its appearance above thirty 
 years ago, and was dedicated to Dr. Hinchcliffe, a late bishop of Peter- 
 borough. ....".. 
 
 Vol. II. Bb 
 
282 
 
 he would not put his foot into a ball-room for all the 
 world ; and I am told he won't speak to my cousin 
 because he loves a little harmless mirth, he is such a 
 precise old codger ; and they say his curate, Mr. Se- 
 date, is just such another. Now you don't think it 
 necessary that we should be so strict as all that : and 
 I have a notion, sir, you are a little strict in your 
 way ; though I can assure you such strict notions in 
 religion won't do for the people of our town." 
 
 Wor. How could you bear to hear this frothy chap 
 run on at such a rate ? 
 
 Loveg. Really, sir, I could not bear it, I therefore 
 only spoke a few words in vindication of the re- 
 spectable old doctor, and turned him over to Mr, 
 Reader. 
 
 JVor. And how did Mr. Reader deal with him ? 
 
 jLoveg. Sir, he talked to him far beyond my ex- 
 pectation, in a very serious and appropriate manner 
 indeed. And glad enough we both were, after hav- 
 ing been pestered with his nonsense for near an hour 
 and a half, to make our escape. 
 
 JVor. I suppose Mr. Reader's views of such mi- 
 nisters are completely altered. 
 
 JLoveg. Altered indeed 1 He wonders at his igno- 
 rance, that such miserable bits of vanity should ever 
 have been esteemed by him as ministers of the word 
 of God ! And how he laments the pitiable state of 
 that town, so awfully deprived of all that is neces- 
 sary to their spiritual good ! 
 
 But, sir, blessed be God, all this produced good 
 notwithstanding; fori urged seriously on Mr. Rea- 
 der the necessity of considering the lamentable state 
 of the town, and to open his school-room, at least on 
 the Sunday evening, for family worship, to which all 
 his neighbours might have free access : and on those 
 occasions, that he would offer up a prayer himself, or 
 read a part of our excellent church service, together 
 
283 
 
 with a chapter from the Bible ; and then read some 
 of the homilies, together with other books of good 
 ancient divinity, once universally preached in the 
 church of England, but, till of late, almost as uni- 
 versally laid aside ; a plenty of which should be in> 
 mediately transmitted to his hands. 
 
 Wor. Did he seem to acquiesce ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, he promised me to exert himself to 
 the utmost of his power, but that he did not know 
 how he could venture to undertake such a solemn 
 charge. 
 
 Wor. I hope he will. This will prove a much 
 more profitable way for people to spend their Sunday 
 evenings than in idle visits and foolish chat. 
 
 Loveg. Why, sir, I have in a measure, I believe, 
 pinned him down to the work, by telling him, with 
 his leave, I would make a beginning on the Sunday 
 evening, after the services of the church ; and that, 
 if he knew any of his neighbours who were of a se- 
 rious turn, he might invite them as to family prayer: 
 however, if he undertakes the work, it will be with 
 much " fear and trembling." 
 
 Wor. The better for that In all religious en- 
 gagements, diffidence and success are constant at- 
 tendants on each other. But must he not take out a 
 licence for his school-room ? 
 
 Loveg. I believe not, sir, according to the pre- 
 sent disposition of the town ; it is astonishing the 
 attention and respect which was shewn me after the 
 two sermons I preached on the Sunday. Prejudice, 
 though it seems to me to be the brainless monster 
 which the sons of bigotry universally adore, is, I 
 trust, through the divine mercy, not so much that, 
 idol in Locksbury which it formerly was. 
 
 Wor. Blessed be God, as far as this, it is a glo- 
 rious triumph. But should Mr. Reader take out a 
 licence for himself and his school-room, where wouljT 
 
284 
 
 be the harm of it ? He only swears allegiance to the 
 state : and if he cannot swear allegiance to his pro- 
 tectors it is not fit that he should be protected. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir ; but then does he not, by that 
 oath, put himself under the protection of the act 
 for the relief of Protestant Dissenters ? 
 
 Wor. Certainly so. But there is nothing said why 
 he dissents; that is entirely out of the question. 
 He takes precisely the same oath enforced on the 
 clergy. The law only demands, that every public 
 preacher shall be obedient to the state. You and I, 
 if we lived at Locksbury, should be dissenters from 
 Mr. Fribble's ministry, if not from the established 
 church. What can be more disgusting than to have 
 the solemn service of God conducted by such un- 
 meaning fops ? That mild and wise law, therefore, 
 u asks no questions for conscience sake;" but gives 
 equal protection to all who can give a proper test of 
 their obedience to the state : no man is obliged to 
 swear he is a dissenter ; but all public teachers, whe- 
 ther Dissenters or otherwise, swear allegiance ; and 
 would to God that all denominations of Christians 
 were as candid to each other as the laws of the land 
 are liberally framed for the protection of all. 
 
 Loveg. Upon these principles every clergyman 
 may take out what is called a Dissenting licence, at 
 any time, if there were occasion. 
 
 Wor. Indeed he may, unless he hates the govern- 
 ment, and wishes to overturn it ; and then, instead 
 of protection, he deserves a gaol. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. \To Mr. Worthy, .] Now, my dear, 
 you have given your ideas as a justice about li- 
 cences, do let Mr. Lovegood tell us how it fared 
 with him as a minister on the Sunday.' 
 
 Loveg. Madam, I found Mr. Fribble was willing 
 that ) shouid do the whole of the duty for him ; so 
 I : ad prayers as well as preached. 
 
285 
 
 Wor. I am glad of that ; it was, I doubt not, a 
 good preparatory business to the sermon ; your so- 
 lemn way of reading those excellent prayers has 
 been very useful before now. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. What was your text? 
 
 Loveg. Madam, in the morning I preached upon 
 the purity and holiness of the law, from that text, 
 " Be ye holy, for I am holy." You know, that is a 
 favourite subject of mine ; from thence I expatiated 
 on the infinite holiness of God and his law ; and in 
 the afternoon I preached on the parable of the Pro- 
 digal Son. But it was with some difficulty I was ad- 
 mitted a second time into the pulpit ; for the first sa- 
 lutation, after the morning sermon, from Mr. Frib- 
 ble, was very coarse indeed : " Sir, [said he~\ you 
 were too strict , you were a deal too strict for my 
 congregation. Did I not tell you, that they would 
 not like such harsh doctrine? I am sure my rector, 
 Mr. Careless, will be very angry if I let you preach 
 again." Immediately a very sensible sedate gentle- 
 man stepping forward, who I afterwards found to be 
 one of the churchwardens, addressed Mr. Fribble, 
 and said: " Sir, after such an admirable sermon, such 
 an one as we never expect to hear from you, I am 
 persuaded, the people of the town will be very much 
 disappointed if they should not hear Mr. Lovegood 
 a second time ;" while many others expressed them* 
 selves with equal gratitude and thankfulness for what 
 they had heard. 
 
 Wor. I suppose, after this, Mr. Fribble drew in 
 his horns. 
 
 Loveg. Directly*- His apology was, that he was 
 apt to be warm ; but begged I would "be less strict hi 
 my doctrine, when 1 preached in the afternoon. 
 
 TPor. Sir, if you preached them such a sermon on 
 the prodigal's return as you once preached to vis soon 
 
 fib 2 - 
 
286 
 
 after Henry Littieworth's return, it was a very at 
 fecting one indeed. 
 
 Loveg. Sir, through divine mercy, I felt the sub- 
 ject exceedingly ; the riotous living of the prodigal 
 was easily exemplified by the riotous consequences 
 of Mr. Madcap's horse-race. I hinted, however, but 
 little on that low subject, before I expatiated largely 
 on the infinitely tender love of God our Saviour to- 
 wards all returning prodigals. Then I made a dis- 
 tant allusion to the character of Mrs. Chipman : and 
 in the application, considering the circumstances 
 which brought me there, I was 1 much more affected 
 than I can express. I was so overcome that my 
 voice at times faultered exceedingly, and I could 
 scarcely conclude the sermon without many tears ; 
 and indeed the congregation appeared not less affect- 
 ed than myself. 
 
 Wor. Sir, you never find our minds so seriously 
 impressed, under a sense of divine truth, as when 
 you feel their impressive influence on yourself. O, 
 what ignorance and hardness of heart, that we are 
 not all more affected at the glad tidings of salvation 
 by Jesus Christ ! 
 
 Z>oveg. I confess, sir, I never saw people more 
 affected in all my life ! A vouchsafement of the di- 
 vine presence, I trust, was very eminently upon the 
 congregation. 
 
 Wor. Why, sir, the Lord has promised " to rain 
 down righteousness upon us," and to give us " show- 
 ers of blessings !" these are the happy times of " re- 
 freshment from the presence of the Lord." 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir, and we have a right to expect 
 more under the New Testament than under the Old. 
 Christ, in his commission to his apostles, has entailed 
 the same blessings upon us which he promised to 
 them : " I am with you always, even to the end of 
 tfee world." And I really think, if ever I felt the 
 
287 
 
 divine presence, it was, through the mercy of God, 
 when 1 was preaching at Locksbury church. Oh, 
 sir, how much we lose by expecting little ! and jet, 
 what may we not expect from " the exceeding great 
 and precious promises" of the Gospel ? 
 
 Wor. And a man is to be esteemed as a downright 
 enthusiast if he humbly waits the fulfilment of these 
 promises! 
 
 Lor) eg. It is no great difficulty to put up with the 
 reproach of the world, while we realize those bless- 
 ings so frequently promised in the word of God, 
 But there is a wide difference between the enthusias- 
 tical reveries of some, and these holy influences from 
 above, which are so wise in their operations and so 
 gracious in their consequences, as they are exempli- 
 fied, by the peaceable fruits of righteousness, which 
 are produced thereby. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Dear sir, you know we are delighted 
 to hear of good news of this sort. We wish you to 
 be more particular. I suppose the church was very 
 full? 
 
 Loveg. Oh, Madam, the church' was crowded. 
 The curiosity of the people, all round the country, 
 was highly excited ; not only by the return of Mrs. 
 Chipman, but also from the character Mr. Fribble 
 gave of me, that I was a very great orator. 
 
 Wor. Motives of mere idle curiosity are fre- 
 quently over-ruled for an abundance of good. 
 
 Loveg. Such was the case here ; for it was amaz- 
 ing with what affection and kindness the people re- 
 ceived the word, how gratefully they expressed 
 themselves to Mr. Reader for inviting me, and how 
 earnestly many of them sought my acquaintance. 
 Mr. Reader, threfore, hinted my design of intro- 
 ducing family-worship in his school-room in the 
 evening of the day. The w 7 hisper soon circulated, 
 and the school-room was crowded. 
 
288 
 
 Woi\ This was a good sign. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir, and the effects of it were not less 
 pleasant to my own mind after that service, which 
 was very serious, and I trust profitable. Many of 
 the people came about me, and pressed me to con- 
 tinue with them another Sunday ; mentioning how 
 lamentably they were served between Mr. Fribble 
 and his rector; and that the next parish, contiguous 
 to theirs, was worse off still, as it was served by one 
 Jack Bully, who was a complete blackguard.* I 
 told them how happy I should be to comply with 
 their request, but that my own parochial charge 
 absolutely demanded my attendance ; yet, if they 
 could procure the pulpit for me, I would take the 
 earliest opportunity to repeat my visit. 
 
 Wor. Your visit to Locksbury was attended with 
 much more desirable consequences than your visit to 
 Grediton. But don't you think, you have already 
 done too much mischief against the religion, as I 
 suppose they call it, of Mr. Fribble and his rector, 
 to expect a second admission into the pulpit ? 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I am told, that Mr. Careless does 
 not mind who preaches, provided his parishioners 
 are pleased, and he is left at liberty to do what he 
 likes best ; and as to his poor insignificant curate, he 
 is nobody. 
 
 Wor. Hardly fit to be candle-snuffer to a card- 
 table. What an evil when such men are entrusted 
 with the care of immortal souls ! and what a curse 
 to the people who have them for their ministers ! 
 
 Mrs. Wor. Sir, we now don't wonder that you 
 
 * His character must be omitted from the general lis^, as it would be too 
 bad for public perusal, only that he was a great advocate for boxing and 
 bull-baiting; I suppose also for cock-fighting and cudgel-playing ; in or- 
 der to give people an heroic spirit, and keep them steady to the church, 
 that they may not be seduced by the enthusiastic spirit of the day. — See 
 some speeches in the House of Commons jon this subject, as detailed in the 
 public prints. 
 
289 
 
 did not come home till Saturday evening, as you 
 were so well engaged at Locksbury. 
 
 Loveg. Madam, I found it impossible to leave them 
 till the latest moment I could allow for their service. 
 Many, even among the respectable inhabitants, in- 
 vited me to pass the evening with them, that they 
 might enjoy the same privilege of family prayer 
 which they had at Mr. Reader's; and as to the poor, 
 I was almost universally accosted by them, request, 
 ing me to repeat my visit and inviting me into their 
 houses : and, on this occasion, I found that the bun- 
 dle of little religious tracts, you gave me for distri- 
 bution, were very serviceable indeed. — Sir, I humbly 
 trust there is a work of grace begun in the hearts of 
 many in that town which has laid a foundation for 
 much future good. 
 
 JVor. One would think you had scarcely an op- 
 ponent left throughout the town. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, sir, notwithstanding the general good- 
 will of the inhabitants, the Gospel, as in all other 
 places, had its opponents. Dr. Rationality, the 
 physician, Mr. Pestle, the apothecary, and Mr* 
 Proveall, the mathematician, went about from house 
 to house, saying, that all this talk about regeneration 
 and conversion was downright nonsense; and .that 
 they could explain all these things from physical 
 causes. And I heard that a Mr. Discussion, a man 
 of considerable reading, and a very leading man in 
 the town, though it seems he is wonderfully wise in 
 his own conceit, went about saying, he could not tell 
 whether he was more disgusted at the ignorance of 
 Mr. Fribble, or the enthusiasm of Mr. Lovegobd ; 
 while several other comrades of Mr. Fribble, espe- 
 cially one Jack Pert, pretended to ridicule what they 
 could not understand. But still I humbly trust an 
 abundance of good has been done : and the most 
 pleasing circumstance of all arose from a visit I re- 
 
290 
 
 ceived from a Mr. Thoughtful, a serious respectable 
 clergyman, who seems to have been entirely bewil- 
 dered with the religious notions of the day. 
 
 Mrs. War, It will be a great mercy if some of 
 the clergy in these parts should be influenced by di- 
 vine grace to preach, what all of them should preach, 
 according to the Bible and their own subscriptions — 
 the glad tidings of salvation by Jesus Christ ; instead 
 of downright keathenish morality, or a sort of unde- 
 fined jumble between law and gospel, which nobody 
 can understand. 
 
 Loveg. Well, sir, I think Mr, Thoughtful is in 
 a fair way of proving all that could be wished, as a 
 minister, in those parts. He heard me twice ex- 
 pound the Scriptures in private houses ; and, with a 
 great deal of humility, he acknowledges his defective 
 views of the plan of the gospel of salvation. His moral 
 conduct, at all times, has been perfectly correct, and 
 he seems to me like a devout Cornelius, and one who 
 wishes to know the truth. 
 
 Vfor. I should hope his acquaintance with Mr, 
 Reader will be a benefit to them both. 
 
 Loveg. I trust it will; for, before I left Locks- 
 burj', Mr. Reader, seeing how many people of the 
 town were struck at these things, became quite cou- 
 rageous : though at first he was timid, yet he is now, 
 however, determined to open his school-room upon 
 the plan I first mentioned. 
 
 Wor. I really hope an abundance of good will 
 come of all this. Oh, sir, you must visit them again 
 as soon as you can : we must put up with Mr. Con- 
 siderate, or even Mr. Legal-definition, sooner than 
 that you should neglect this call in providence. 
 
 Mrs. Wor. You said, you thought poor Mrs. Chip- 
 man began to look a little more cheerful before you 
 left town. These tokens for good were enough to 
 make you all cheerful 
 
291 
 
 Loveg. Sir, I prevailed with her so far as to get 
 her into the school-room on the Sunday evening ; 
 she sat next to her father weeping and sobbing all 
 the time ; but when she heard how much the people 
 of the town were affected at the sermons, which had 
 been preached on the Sunday, she began to take some 
 consolation from what I had frequently hinted ; that 
 God permits evil indirectly for the advancement of 
 his own glory. So all this good was brought about 
 at Locksbury, indirectly, by her unhappy elope- 
 ment, in submitting to the intrigues of the abomina- 
 ble Sir Charles Dash. 
 
 JVor. But, under such uncommon displays of di- 
 vine mercy, what need there is to guard our minds 
 against the sad temptation of doing evil, that good 
 may be the result ! 
 
 Loveg. Yes, sir, St. Paul's caution on that subject 
 is truly wise and good ; but all true penitents are 
 sure to be preserved from such presumptuous sias, 
 while they fear God and tremble at his holy word. 
 The idea of apostatizing into sin will be more tre- 
 mendous to them than hell itself; such as are among 
 the pure in heart, who shall see God, will never 
 more wallow in the filth of sin. 
 
 After this commenced a deal of talk about Rege- 
 neration, on -which point Mr. Lovegood was very 
 accurate and great, and it might be very edifying if 
 here transcribed for the reader's peru&aL But as 
 these Dialogues have already swollen far beyond the 
 original design, nothing further shall be related than 
 an abridgment of the present subject. 
 
 Mr. Reader wrote to Mr. Lovegood, about a fort- 
 night after his departure, sending him the most de~ 
 
292 
 
 sirable information he himself could possibly have 
 wished to have received, as it respected his visit to 
 Locksbury. This letter threw an abundance of la- 
 bour into the hands of that attentive and invaluable 
 servant of God. He had first to write; Mr. Reader 
 a letter, half as long as a sermon, for his own private 
 instruction ; then he conceived it necessary to aid 
 Mr. Reader in giving him some heads of sermons, 
 upon a better plan than what he formerly adopted : 
 and, besides all this, he had to write a variety of 
 letters to each of his new friends at Locksbury ; as, 
 from the state of spiritual ignorance in which he 
 found them, he thought it necessary to give them 
 individually a copious share of his wise and pastoral 
 advice. 
 
 While thus engaged, he received a letter from his 
 old friend, Mr. Slapdash, informing him of his in- 
 tention to give him a visit : for, though he had never 
 seen him since his removal from Abley , yet, that now 
 providence seemed to grant him a release, he hoped 
 they might be indulged with an interview with each 
 other, from the following cause : his church was * 
 much out of repair, and wanted also a consider- 
 able enlargement : he had been reading prayers and 
 preaching in the church-yard as long as the sea- 
 son would permit ; and. now he should have about 
 three sabbaths to spare before the public service of 
 the church could recommence. This unexpected 
 event gave an opportunity to Mr. Lovegood to re- 
 peat his visit to Locksbury much sooner than he in- 
 tended : he having been brought to a determination 
 thereby to pass the first sabbath with Mr. Slapdash 
 at Brookfieid, and then offer his services for Locks* 
 bur) 7 on the two last sabbaths that his good old friend 
 meant to continue in these parts. 
 ■ flatters being thus settled, Mr. Lovegood imme - 
 
293 
 
 diately determined upon a considerable abridgement 
 of his epistolary design, as a personal intercourse 
 with his new friends in these parts was likely so soon 
 to be renewed. On the arrival of Mr. Slapdash the 
 reader may expect a further narration of events. 
 
 Vol. II. C c 
 
 i 
 
294 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXIIL 
 
 BETWEEN THE REV. MR. SLAPDASH, MR. MER- 
 RYMAN, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 
 
 THE FOLLY AND EVILS OF SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED : 
 TOGETHER WITH A FURTHER ILLUSTRATION OF THE 
 CHARACTER OF MR. SLAPDASH. 
 
 AT the time appointed, Mr. Slapdash arrived at 
 Brookfield. He first went to the vicarage : but 
 as Mr. Lovegood's house and pocket were too scanty 
 to deal much in the entertainment of others, he was 
 immediately conducted to Mr. Worthy's, where he 
 was most affectionately received, according to the 
 standing order of that hospitable house. 
 
 Here Mr. Slapdash first met with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Merry man, who were there on a visit after their 
 marriage. The unmeaning compliments of the peo- 
 ple of the world are never needed among those who 
 " love the Lord Jesus in sincerity :" Mr. Slapdash 
 says he never had any, and therefore never at- 
 tempted to fabricate them ; the courtesy of the 
 Christian being composed of better materials. A deal 
 of conversation naturally took place, as it related to 
 that variety of events which have already been made 
 known to the reader. These were heard with de- 
 light and rapture by Mr. Slapdash, and attended 
 with such remarks as might naturally be expected 
 
295 
 
 from one of his warm and animated, yet affectionate 
 turn of mind. 
 
 Mr. Lovegoocl; however, was very desirous to 
 hear how matters stood at Abley, after he had been 
 dismissed from his curacy;' and one morning, after 
 breakfast, Mr. Worthy being detained at home on 
 some business as a magistrate, the three ministers 
 walked around the pleasure grounds, when the fol- 
 lowing conversation took place. 
 
 Loveg. I am anxious to know how matters are at 
 Abley since 1 left them. Does Mr. Steepleman con- 
 tinue in the curacy, who was sent to succeed me 
 when 1 received my dismissal ? 
 
 Slapd. Aye, he has been preaching up the church 
 till lie has driven almost all the people out of the 
 church; and has been preaching against schism, till 
 they are all turned schismatics, at least in his esteem, 
 throughout the neighbourhood. 
 
 Merry m. What sort of a character is he? 
 
 Slapd. Why, he is half a papist. — He is quite a 
 papist. 
 
 Loveg. Hush ! brother Slapdash, you always speak 
 so vehemently. 
 
 Slapd. There is no taking the devil by the nose 
 but with a pair of tongs :* and I am sure Mr. Stee- 
 pieman's doctrine is the doctrine of the devil. 
 
 Loveg. A heavy charge, brother Slapdash ! 
 
 Slapd. No more than just, good old brother Pru- 
 dence, be it ever so heavy. Who can bear the. 
 thought, that a set of ruined sinners should have 
 their eyes and hopes turned from God, to seek for 
 
 * Alluding to a popish legendary story respecting St. Dunstan ; when 
 the devil accosted him as a tempter, the saint took him by the nose with 
 a pair of tongs. 
 
296 
 
 salvation in outward churches, as they are called, 
 and in the tricks of priests? 
 
 Merry m. [To Lovegood.'] Why, there is a deal of 
 truth in the observation ; thousands, in different ways, 
 are deluded by these means : I shall take sides with 
 Mr. Slapdash. But do, sir, be more particular about 
 Mr. Steepleman's religion. 
 
 Slapd. Sir, salvation with him is just the same as 
 with the papists. " You must keep yourself in the 
 church, and trust in her priests." As to our good 
 old reformers, while they universally charged the 
 church of Rome as Antichrist, Mr. Steepleman will 
 tell us she is the true old Christian church, and the 
 mother of us all ; and that though in some things it 
 might have been necessary to reform, yet that in 
 ethers we had gone too far. The power of the keys 
 is his favourite topic, and that Jesus Christ has de- 
 legated all the powers of salvation to the priesthood, 
 who can turn in and turn out, lock in and lock out, 
 just as they please. He says the reformers ruined 
 the church by giving up confession and absolution. 
 
 Merry m. Mr. Deliberate, it seems, before he came 
 into these parts, spent two years of his time in Ire- 
 land, and he gives an awful account of the horrid 
 evils of priestcraft in that country. He tells us, that 
 thousands of the poor ignorant papists can live in 
 open violation of the pure and holy laws of God, 
 without the least apparent remorse ; but directly as 
 they transgress the laws of their church, or the di- 
 rections of their priesthood, they are alarmed at the 
 consequences, as though certain damnation were 
 just about to overtake them; and I fear that Mr. 
 Steepleman's religion is but little better.* 
 
 Loveg. How many thousands there are, of all 
 
 * See much of this in Sir R. Musgrave's account of the late rebellion 
 in Ireland. 
 
29Y 
 
 quarrelsome sects, " who make void the law through 
 their traditions ; " and how terribly are the consci- 
 ences of sinners screened from conviction and har- 
 dened in sin thereby ! 
 
 Slapd. Now, I said it, and I think I can stand to 
 it, that Mr. Steepleman is quite a papist in all this. 
 First, he supposes, should a man live like a devil, 
 yet, if he be of the true church, it will prove a 
 great step towards his salvation ; but, on the con- 
 trary, should a man live like an angel, and be what 
 he calls a schismatic, through this damnable sin, the 
 most tremendous consequences are to be expected ; 
 and as to priests, he will have it, that the efficacy of 
 their functions is in their office, and is not at ail af- 
 fected by their characters ; so that a priest, though 
 as wricked as sin can make him, in himself, has a 
 power, by a sort of spiritual conjuration, to send, 
 others to heaven, while he himself, if w ickedness can 
 take him thither, is going fast for hell. — Is not this 
 popery ? 
 
 Merry m. Indeed, Mr. Slapdash, it is popery down- 
 right. - 
 
 Loveg. [smiling.'] I thought brother Slapdash . 
 would soon make you a convert. 
 
 Slapd Why, can't you remember, when you w^ere* 
 curate at Abley, at a meeting of ministers, howj^ou 
 preached in my church, and what a sermon you gave 
 us on that text, " Having the form of godliness, but 
 denying the power :" and how you explained to us 
 that excellent definition of a sacrament we have iri: 
 the church catechism, that, in itself it was only iC an 
 outw r ard and visible sign of an inward and spiritual 
 grace ;" and was meant only as a pledge or token of 
 the divine mercies? Don't you recollect how you 
 ript up all the lying hopes of tho^e who trusted in 
 these outward signs and formal churches, instead of, 
 
 C c %: 
 
298 
 
 peeking for the inward and spiritual grace ? — I think 
 you were Slapdash on that occasion. 
 
 Merry m. Well, well, we must all give up the . 
 point. The consequences are reuiiy awful, when 
 such WTetched substitutes are permitted to occupy 
 the mind instead of the realities of the gospel. Just 
 so far as a vain confidence in churches and priests 
 prevails, the need of that which is inward and spiri- 
 tual will sink in our esteem. * 4 The kingdom of 
 God is within vou." 
 
 Slapd. Yes, and one evil is almost sure to beget 
 another. When you \to Mr. Lovegood~] were cu- 
 rate of Abley, what were the grand objects the poor 
 people were directed to seek after ? What you felt 
 you preached, that you and all your congregation 
 were a set of ruined sinners ; so that if you had not 
 had Christ to set before them, in his justifying blood 
 and sanctifying Spirit, you had all been in despair to- 
 gether 5 and this you know was the top and bottom 
 of all your preaching : and you remember in what 
 a loving uniting spirit you were then all kept as one, 
 having nothing in view but " the one thing need- 
 ful." But when Mr. Steepleman came with his chaff, 
 no wonder that such as felt any thing like a spiritual 
 appetite were constrained to seek after something 
 better ; and I wish with all my heart that they could 
 have found what they sought after. But here from 
 one extreme they were hurried into another; for, 
 while they were driven from the church by the dis- 
 gustful trumpery of Mr. Steepleman, they unfortu- 
 nately hit upon a Mr. Stiff, who first, it seems, made 
 an unsuccessful attempt to get into the established 
 church, though afterwards he put himself under the 
 tuition of a Dr. Buckram, and then turned out one 
 of the most narrow-minded rigid dissenters I ever 
 met with in my life. Having procured a licence, he 
 
299 
 
 preaches in the farm-house where Mrs, Goodworth 
 lived : and while Mr. Sieepleman keeps railing at 
 separatists and schismaticks, Mr. Stiff will be casting 
 out his invectives against the church and all establish- 
 ments ; and conceitedly insists upon it, that their 
 church government is the only one exactly modelled 
 according to the word of God, and the practice of 
 the primitive Christians. 
 
 Merry m. Oh, the terrible consequences of these 
 controversies about mere empty forms ! For, after 
 all, who are the people that constitute the real 
 church in the sight of God ? Why penitent believ- 
 ers, when convened together, of every party. How 
 dreadful, when any, who are thus saved and blessed, 
 are found to anathematize and condemn each other! 
 
 jLoveg. How much to be lamented is it, that a 
 man of a meek and mild turn of mind could not 
 have been found to instruct the poor people, when 
 they were under the necessity of seeking for instruc- 
 tion from another quarter. For although it may 
 appear how 7 well designed the established church 
 is in itself, for the conveyance of general instruc- 
 tion ; yet still, in a variety of instances, through the 
 prevalence of corruption, the end designed thereby 
 is by no means accomplished. Were then the work 
 of public instruction confined merely to any esta- 
 blishment, however good, the evil complained of 
 would be necessarily increased. It is evident, there- 
 fore, that something is needful to be done, which, 
 after all, cannot be done by the members of any es- 
 tablished church. What an impediment, therefore, 
 to the advancement of the general good is it, when 
 people are c6ntending about outward forms, while 
 none of these things are precisely settled in the word 
 of God! 
 
 SuipcL Mr. Stiff would have given you a good 
 trimming if he had heard you advance that doctrine, 
 
300 
 
 Loveg. I suppose he would, and almost every ex- 
 dusive sect, on the most frivolous pretensions, has 
 claimed the same ; but as for my part, I can find no- 
 thing more in the Bible respecting these matters, 
 than that the primitive Christians lived in connected 
 harmony and friendship with each other ; that elders, 
 or overseers, or bishops,* if you please to call them 
 so, were ordained, or appointed, in different cities, 
 to govern the juniors; and sometimes we hear of 
 many of these elders, who presided over one and the 
 same congregation, which happens to be the plain 
 English of the word church; and some of these, it 
 seems, had the puplic management or superintend- 
 ance of the people, while others of them were its 
 public teachers. 
 
 Merry tn. Why, don't you think, that all these 
 elders or bishops were teachers ? 
 
 Loveg. By no means. That passage evidences the 
 reverse : " Let the elders that rule well be counted 
 worthy of double honour, especially they who la- 
 bour in the word and doctrine:" and respecting 
 these we hear the word of direction given to the 
 people, " to know them which labour among them, 
 and are over them in the Lord, and admonish them : 
 and to esteem them very highly in love for their 
 works' sake ;" or, as w r e have it elsewhere, " obey 
 them that have the rule over you, and submit your- 
 selves, for they watch for your souls, as they that 
 must give account." It is strange that, from such 
 simple rules, different parties should have formed 
 such various conclusions against each other. 
 
 Merry m. Why, it appears to me impossible that a 
 precise mode of discipline could ever have been fixed 
 in the New T Testament, circumstances as they then 
 were being soon afterwards exceedingly altered. We 
 
 • These words in Scripture are evidently of the same import. 
 
301 
 
 cannot suppose that the ministry of the twelve apos« 
 ties, or of the seventy disciples, was meant as a stand- 
 ing order for the church, otherwise every preacher 
 must continue a perpetual itinerant* Though the 
 same need of an apostolical spirit will ever remain, 
 because, from the corrupted state of the human race, 
 the church is continually apt to decline ; and with- 
 out such revivals we should be in a wretched state 
 indeed. 
 
 Loveg. From the epistle to the Corinthians it is 
 evident, that the mode of worship among the pri- 
 mitive Christians was very different from that which 
 in after ages was necessarily adopted. While the 
 extraordinary influences of the Holy Spirit rested 
 upon the church, full liberty of speaking was allowed 
 to all, even to the women, without any limitation. 
 
 Merryrn. Do you think then that the women were, 
 some of them, public preachers in those days ? 
 
 JLoveg. They certainly were ; for the apostle di- 
 rects them how to preach, with their heads veiled or 
 covered in the public assembly. " Every woman 
 that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered 
 dishonoureth her head," for that it was " uncomely 
 that a woman pray unto God uncovered." This 
 general permission, however, for all to speak was 
 attended with some disorder, even in the purest ages 
 of the church . And indeed it should appear, from the 
 directions given in St. Paul's epistles to Timothy and 
 Titus, that somewhat more like a -standing minis- 
 try would be wanted, when the immediate and super- 
 natural influences of trie divine Spirit should be with- 
 drawn. We know, indeed, that an attempt to re- 
 vive this mode of public worship has been made 
 among the people called Quakers, as though the same 
 divine power still existed. But, alas ! they also 
 prove, that while one sect runs into one extreme, 
 another can run into that which is directly the re- 
 
302 
 
 Verse ; and thus they naturally prove the weakness 
 of each other's pretensions. — It appears, therefore, 
 to me, that many things must naturally have been 
 left to future circumstances. "Still we should follow 7 
 the general outlines of the word of God, and see that 
 " all things be done decently and in order.''* 
 
 SlapcL When Mr. Stiff was ordained, there was 
 a great talk among them, how the right to the mi- 
 nistry entirely depended upon the election of the 
 people. As to myself, I cannot recollect in what place 
 of scripture that sentiment is revealed, as being a 
 part of the discipline of the New Testament church. 
 
 Loveg. No more can I. And, what is more extra- 
 ordinary, I never could find out, that any one pastor 
 was ordained as the settled teacher over any parti- 
 cular church ;f and yet I most readily admit that it 
 is a very good human regulation, that people should 
 have their stated ministers, and that proper means 
 should be made use of to provide a pure and holy 
 ministry, for the edification of the Christian church, 
 and that the people's choice, so far as they are fit to 
 choose, should be properly consulted. It is astonish- 
 ing that such disputants cannot discover upon what 
 
 * See 1 Cor. xi. ad fit. 
 
 •}• I have heard that some have supposed this matter from the allusion 
 made to the angels of the seven Asiatic churches ; but, in my humble 
 opinion, prophetic allusions fall exceedingly short of positive proof. 
 Others have also supposed that the word cheirotoneo proves the point 
 from its derivation, to choose by the holding up of the hand ; but scarce 
 any terms at all times abide by their original derivation. We find this 
 ■word twice in the New Testament. In 2 Cor. viii. 19. we are told of 
 Titus and another brother, who was chosen by the churches in Corinth 
 to take their alms to the Macedonians. This might have appeared to the 
 point had it been to choose a minister. The other place is in Acts xiv. 23. 
 where Paul and Barnabas first travelled through different cities, confirm, 
 ing the churches, and then left them, after they had ordained or chosen 
 them elders in every city. It appears here then the reverse to what 
 might be expected. The elders were ordained,, not by the people, but 
 ,by the apostles, 
 
am 
 
 a slight foundation they ground their contentions 
 against each other. 
 
 Slapd. O, how Mr. Stiff railed against our church 
 episcopacy, though, I believe, other dissenters, mild- 
 er than he, are much ashamed of him for his vehe- 
 ment spirit ; and what a dressing Mr. Steepleman 
 gave him in return on the Sunday afterwards, as one 
 of a set of schismatics, insisting that it was impossi- 
 ble there could be a Christian church without a bi- 
 shop at the head of it ! How the devil must have 
 been delighted at this ! 
 
 Loveg. Well, but according to Mr. Stiff's plan of 
 government, he need not have been alarmed at the 
 name of bishop, for his brethren's notions of equality 
 render the whole body of them a set of bishops or 
 overseers among themselves, as the rule equally be- 
 longs to all: such are the clashings between Mr. 
 Steepleman and Mr. Stiff. No winder at the terri- 
 ble confusion created on every side of the question 
 by such extremes ; but, with the leave of Mr. Stiff 
 and Mr. Steepleman, somewhat more moderate 
 .might have been the discipline of the primitive 
 church. I never could see the great improbability 
 or impropriety in the idea, that, when the church 
 began to be considerably enlarged, the presbyters, 
 that they might make their government more com- 
 pact among themselves, should think it necessary to 
 appoint a superintendant over their body; as we 
 have it in civil matters, a mayor in a corporation, 
 presiding among his brethren, the elders, eldermen, 
 or aldermen of the city : and what is there in all this 
 that is either despicable or absurd ?■ and yet this 
 might have existed without the least affinity to that 
 strange unwieldy government, afterwards adopted in 
 the times of darkness by the church of Rome. 
 
 Slapd. But what a wonderful piece of work Mr, 
 
304 
 
 Stiff made in ordaining what he called his seven 
 deacons. 
 
 Loveg. Why seven? 
 
 Slapd. I sAppose that he might closely imitate the 
 conduct of the apostles, who ordained seven deacons, 
 as we find in the Acts. 
 
 Loveg. Deacons ! where are they called deacons ? 
 not in that chapter, but in the translator's preface, 
 and that won't stand for inspiration ; though the sum- 
 mary they have given to each chapter is generally 
 very correct and good. 
 
 Slapd. What must we call them then ? 
 
 Loveg. Seven men of good report, the Scriptures 
 call them ; — and I suppose their office was to attend 
 to the proper distribution of- the estates sold in the 
 times of persecution, when it w r as necessary people 
 should have all things common. 
 
 Slapd. Mr. Stiff has not adopted that into his pri- 
 mitive discipline^ though that might turn to his ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 Loveg. Nor does he wash the disciples' feet, I sup- 
 pose, and yet these were scripture precedents, as well 
 as the seven deacons, as he supposes them to be* If 
 it be necessary we follow them in one point of view, 
 I think we should in all ; or else at once admit, that 
 each body of Christians should act for themselves as 
 they judge best, and still manifest towards each other 
 all that candour and moderation which the cause evi- 
 dently demands. 
 
 Slapd. Nay, but brother Lovegood, do not we 
 hear of bishops and deacons in the epistle to the 
 Philippians ? 
 
 Loveg. Put the words in plain English, and it 
 Only means overseers and servants ; and this ac- 
 counts for it, why presbyters or elders are not men- 
 tioned on the same list, because they are the same 
 characters. 
 
305 
 
 Slapd. But is there not a particular account how 
 a set of people called deacons should act ? 
 
 Loveg. That is how the servant should act, and 
 in all other places in scripture the same expression is 
 translated servant or minister ; and this point, by a 
 little attention, might easily be proved if we had 
 leisure. * 
 
 * I lay before the reader an abridged criticism on this subject, printed 
 on a former occasion. 
 
 The word Diakonos, though in very frequent use, is only translated 
 deacon in two places in the New Testament ; once in 1 Tim. hi. where the 
 word is carried through the chapter ; and in Paul's dedicatory address to 
 the Philippian Church. Now I really conceive, strange as it may appear, 
 that the mistakes arose from a Popish original ; that communion being 
 over-fond of garnishing their church by a multiplicity of officers, and pre- 
 tended mystical ideas, adopted in their vulgate Latin translation, abstruse 
 expressions, only calculated to mislead. Hence the word Pardkfetos must 
 be by them translated Paracletus, so they have rendered it in English Para- 
 clete ; in our translation, the Comforter. So by the same Popish transla- 
 tors, only in the two instances quoted above, we are treated with the bar- 
 barous word deacon; and our language knows nothing of the character, 
 but as received from them. To illustrate this : how preposterously would 
 it have sounded, had it been translated, Christ was " madea deacon of the 
 circumcision!" there translated minister, Rom. xv. 8. And still more 
 so, is Christ the deacon of sin? There also minister, Gai.ii. 17. Thus 
 again Christ speaks of his worshippers, " Where I am, there shall my 
 deaconsbvi" there rendered servants, John xii. 26. — St. Paul, speaking 
 of the civil magistrate, says, " He is the deacon of God to thee for good/' 
 Rom . xv. 4. People little think, that the lord-mayor of London is a deacon, 
 or rather an archdeacon, peradventuro. Phoebe, " a servant of the church," 
 should, to have kept up this translation/been called a deacon of the church; 
 and, if one wc -d be better than another she wdl deserved it. But it would 
 have been a curious .translation indeed, had it been rendered, " Who then 
 is Paul, or who is Apoilcs, but deacons, by whom ye believed ?" properly 
 called ministers, 1 Cor. iii. 5. Similar to this, « Whereof I, Paul, ara 
 miade "a deacon .♦" that is, minister, Col. i. 23 ,• and again, v. 25. " And 
 so Timothy, ^e Grecian bishop, is also called a deacon." "If then put 
 the brethren in mind -of these things, thou shalt be called a good deacon of 
 Jesus Christ," better translated minister. See also, 1 Thes. iii. 2. So 
 also, had our translators gone through with the coinage, and renderedthe 
 verb diaconeo to deaconize, they would have been nearly as preposterous ; 
 for then it would have ran, ' ' Pe er's wife's mother being healed of her fe- 
 ver, arose and deaconized unto them,' : ' Matt. viii. IS. So it is said, " Cur 
 ^conversation is to be always to the use of edifying, that it may deaconize 
 grace to the hearers," Eph. iv. 9. The wemen who ministered to our 
 poor Saviour of their substance, that we through his poverty might be 
 made rich, are said to have deaconized unto him, instead of administered. 
 And, again, " The Son of man came not to be deaconized, unto, but to 
 deaconize" Matt. xx. IB. And as a further proof of the clumsy effects 
 
 Vol, II. D d 
 
306 
 
 Slapd. Then we may as well say, those three ho- 
 nest men who are digging in that shrubbery are some 
 of Mr. Worthy's deacons. 
 
 Merry m. Yes, and that poor woman and her 
 daughter are two more of his deacons, Mho are 
 picking up the loose stones from off the lawn. 
 
 Slapcl What would Mr. stiff say, if he were pre- 
 sent, to hear all this about his deacons ? 
 
 Merry m. And what must we say about our dea- 
 cons also ? 
 
 Loveg. Why, that -Mr. Stiff and ourselves have 
 both mistaken their real office or character ; and 
 however wise it may be to put men into a proba- 
 tionary state of orders, yet it would have been wiser 
 still to have sdven them another name. 
 
 o 
 
 Slapd. And what must become of our archdea- 
 cons also? Oh how Mr. Stiff used to play it off 
 against that order of our church clergy ! 
 
 of this aukvvard, unmeaning, new-invented word, even the damned them- 
 selves are represented as saying, " Lord, when saw we thee sick, &e and 
 did not deaconize unto thee ?" Man. xxvii. 55. And, to finish my cri- 
 ticisms on this subject Judas was a deacon ; unless it can be proved that 
 the person who does he office is not the officer : for thus stands the ori- 
 ginal word, " He was numbered with -us, and obtained a part of this dea- 
 cons&ip" — diaconia, more properly ministry. And yet this deaconed office 
 was the apostolic office. Acts 1^15. brings this to a point : "thai he," 
 the elected person, Matthias, " may take this ministry, deaconship, and 
 apos~leship, from which Judas by transgression fell.'' Many other criti- 
 cisms of the same sort might have been brought forward to prove that a 
 deacon is no new officer, only a servant. Upon the whole it appears to 
 me that some good people have been misled by the barbarous word deacon, 
 and mistaken the servan for the elder. Dr. Owen, while he pleads for the 
 independency of the churches, as it is called, yet strongly urges the neces- 
 sity of the existence of a little presbytery for internal management of those 
 churches. I believe a variety of Christian congregations would be much 
 more happy among themselves, if, instead of being governed " by old men 
 and maidens, young men and children, p ovided they call on the name of 
 the Lord," and are admitted into their communion, they had constituted 
 among themselves such a sort of a spiritual committee for the management 
 of their church concerns. I insert this criticism that all parties may be 
 less positive, and more candid and affectionate towards each other, and 
 to see if I cannot bring Mr. Stiff and Mr. Steepleman nearer together. 
 
307 
 
 Loveg. Why, in point of positive institution Mr. 
 Stiff's deacons, and- our deacons and archdeacons 
 also, seem pretty nearly on a par; only we. are not 
 so strenuous to contend for their divine appoint- 
 ment. However, hud our good reformers reduced 
 the size of our bishoprics, and dispensed with this 
 race of second-hand bishops, our church discipline 
 had been nearer the model of the primitive times. 
 Yet, after all, I see very little, if any, impropriety 
 in the office of our archdeacons, if they did but se- 
 riously attend to that office, as coadjutors in the 
 episcopal work, by stirring up the clergy in their 
 different districts to a more diligent discharge of 
 their sacred work ; so that if Mr. Stiff chuscs to 
 keep to his deacons, and we to our archdeacons, 
 as mere names are of little or no consequence, we 
 should act much more consistent with the spirit and 
 temper of the Gospel. 
 
 Merrym. Really, it appears to me, as though the 
 apostles and their successors in the ministry, after 
 they had received their commission, acted as circum- 
 stances seemed to direct them, without la} r ing down 
 any plan of regular operations for themselves or their 
 successors. 
 
 Loveg. So it ever appeared to me. And if this 
 sounds loose in the ears of some bigots, who insist 
 upon it that their's is the only form prescribed in the , 
 word of God ; we need to be under no great appre- 
 hension from the mismanagement of these outward 
 matters ; each party takes into consideration the 
 purity and spirituality of the word of God, and, 
 according to their different modes of government, 
 they direct their churches agreeably to that excellent 
 rule. 
 
 Slapd. I wish both Mr. Steepleman and Mr. Stiff 
 were within your reach, that you might give them a 
 good lecture for their bigotry. 
 
308 
 
 Loveg. Though I utterly dislike controversy of this 
 sort, yet, as I equally hate the bad consequences, of 
 bigotry, I should not care if they were. 1 would then 
 ask Mr. Steepleman what would become of his high 
 church episcopal religion, were he to pass the Tweed 
 into Scotland, where the established religion is pres- 
 byterian. Then he immediately becomes a dissen- 
 ter, or, to speak in his own proud language, " he 
 would be living in schism against the established reii- 
 gion of the country;" and would maintain, that there 
 were no Christian church, because they have no 
 bishops. 
 
 Slapd. And consequently they are all going to hell 
 together, though their hearts may be as full of grace 
 as his head is full of these strange high- church ima- 
 ginations. I think you might ask also, where is the 
 harm if a Scotsman should continue a presby terian 
 in England, and where is the harm of an English- 
 man being an episcopalian in Scotland ? Have I a 
 right to knock a man's brains out because he is a 
 Jew or a Mahometan? How much more horrid, 
 therefore, when they, who call themselves Protest- 
 ant Christians, cannot have the least Christian charity 
 one towards another ? I believe there is not a party 
 bigot upon earth that would not persecute if he 
 could. Blessed be God for a more enlarged heart, 
 that we may love all that love God, and love to obey 
 him. 
 
 Loveg. And upon this principle, my good old 
 friend, I feel it would be my privilege to hold chris- 
 tian communion with every protestant church upon 
 earth. Were I in Germany, it would nevei be a 
 question with me, Are you Lutherans or Calvinists, 
 but are you Christians ? Nor would it distract my 
 brains, or concern me, if their modes and forms did 
 not altogether suit my judgment or taste : and were 
 
309 
 
 I to attempt a reformation of such matters at the 
 expence of peace, I should do abundantly more harm 
 than good thereby. As in the church, so it is in a 
 great measure in the state. Have I, or has any one 
 else, a right to go from state to state and try to 
 overturn their different existing governments, be- 
 cause they are not modelled according to that which 
 I so much admire in my own ? This would be like 
 an unskilful surgeon, who would hazard a mortifi- 
 cation for the sake of cutting off a w 7 art. I wish 
 people would but act more according to that excel- 
 lent praj^er in our church liturgy, that we may be 
 " kept in the unity of the spirit, in the bond of 
 peace, and in righteousness of life." 
 
 Slapd. Ah, church liturgy ! how Mr. Stiff rails at 
 church liturgies ; while his own prayers, with a very 
 little variation, are as much a form as any of ours, 
 and I am sure not more scriptural, nor more spi- 
 ritual. 
 
 Loveg. I suppose, then, we should have but a bad 
 bargain of it, if we were to exchange our forms for 
 his. But what are their psalms and hymns but forms 
 of prayer or praise ? I think the least he can do is to 
 let us alone with our forms, while he is so formal 
 himself. It would have been well if the poor people 
 of Abley could have met with such a man as Mr, 
 Peaceful instead of Mr. Stiff. 
 
 Merrym. Was not Mr. Peaceful the minister, 
 who was in the habit of visiting Mrs. Goodworth? 
 I have often heard you mention his name with much 
 approbation. 
 
 Loveg. O, he was a man of a most excellent spirit; 
 and though from principle he was a dissenter, yet 
 nothing could equal his love to all who loved the 
 Lord Jesus hi sincerity. Every thing that was bitter 
 and railing he utterly abhorred, while he was the 
 
 Dd 2 
 
310 
 
 kindest apologist for all, however he might differ 
 from them in things not essential : and while he 
 would make an apology for himself, as it respected 
 our church liturgy, to which he could not well sub- 
 scribe, yet he would admire its general tendency, 
 and even would say, with its few defects, that he es- 
 teemed it to be one of the national blessings of the 
 land, as a general knowledge of the truths of the 
 gospel was wonderfully preserved thereby. 
 
 Merry m. It is much to be lamented that we should 
 lose the services of so good a man on account of such 
 scruples of conscience. 
 
 Loveg. Not at all. The dissenters are a very 
 useful body. May God bless and preserve, them ! 
 
 Merrym. I hope you except Mr. Stiff and his fra- 
 ternity* 
 
 Loveg. With all my heart. But these good men 
 may work where we cannot, and in many places 
 where their aid is deplorably needed; and why 
 should we wish all the good men to work in one line? 
 — It is amazing what an abundance of good Mr. 
 Peaceful does among all the dissenters in these parts, 
 his spirit is so tender and good. 
 
 Merrym. I suppose Mr. Peaceful might have had 
 some other objections against conformity ? 
 
 Loveg. Yes, he had. His principal objection 
 'seems to have been, the much lamented want of 
 discipline, as also the too near affinity between the 
 church and state ; but then he would candidly ac- 
 knowledge, as it was national, it could scarcely be 
 expected to be otherwise, and that national estab- 
 lishments, like all human things, must have their 
 advantages and disadvantages ; that consequently as 
 the state had a right to her choice about religion, so 
 the dissenters were left at full liberty to chuse for 
 themselves ; and that it was no more right for the 
 
311 
 
 dissenters to attack the established church than it 
 would be for the established church to oppress the 
 dissenters. But nothing delighted Mr. Peaceful's 
 mind so much, as to make his annotations on St. 
 Paul's view about the distinction of meats and days, 
 and of meats offered to idols, which exemplifies 
 so much of the forbearing mind of Christ in the cha- 
 racter of that apostle, 
 
 Merrym. Sir, my mind has been much occupied 
 on that subject of late. How much the apostle urges 
 the meekness and gentleness of the christian cha- 
 racter ! 
 
 SlapcL One wonders that an angry bigot can live 
 after he has read those chapters, if he has the grace 
 of God in his heart. 
 
 Merrym. A bigot with the grace of God in his 
 heart ! Two principles strangely opposite, and these 
 to be the inhabitants of the same bosom ! — But let 
 us retire into this pleasant retreat, and talk these 
 matters over more seriously ; the weather is delight- 
 fully mild for this advanced season of the year, and I 
 fear this subject is too much overlooked ; I am sure 
 it has been so by me. — \They sit down, and the con- 
 versation recommences .] 
 
 JLoveg. [ WithasmallGreek Testament in his hand. 3 
 Nothing can equal the tenderness of the apostle's 
 mind in the 14th of the Romans. You know that 
 this chapter refers to those Christians whose minds 
 were not perfectly free from Jewish prejudices ; and 
 though they ill understood the holy liberty of the 
 gospel, and their consciences were consequently mis- 
 guided, yet still it was in matters not essential to sal- 
 vation. These, while thus " weak in faith, were 
 to be received, but not to doubtful disputations," or, 
 in other words, to unnecessary wranglings.and dis- 
 cussions* The dispute ran in this chapter, it should 
 
 m m 
 
312 
 
 seem, upon keeping Jewish seasons, and eating 
 meats according to the Jewish law ; this was cer~ 
 tainly for want of better knowledge ; and yet what 
 a kind apologist St Paul was for them, in regard to 
 eating meats ceremonially impure? What a spirit 
 of love he inculcates by that observation, if Let not 
 him that eateth despise him that eateth not, and let 
 not him which eateth not judge him that eateth, for 
 God hath received him." — " Who art thou that 
 judgest another man's servant ? To his own master 
 he standeth or falleth ; yea, he shall be upholder!, 
 for God is able to establish him." In the same spirit 
 he goes on about days, only observing, " Let every 
 man be fully persuaded in his own mind ;" and I re- 
 member that was a favourite expression with Mr, 
 Peaceful. 
 
 SlapcL I wish it had been a favourite expression 
 with Mr. Stiff; it might have made a better man of 
 him. 
 
 Loveg. Aye, and of Mr. Steepleman too ; but 
 let us forget them both, and mind the lovely remark 
 of the apostle on the subject: " He that regardeth 
 the day, regardeth it unto the Lord ; and he that re- 
 gardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard 
 it : he that eateth, eateth unto the Lord, for he giveth 
 God thanks ; and he that eateth not, to the Lord he 
 eateth not, and giveth God thanks :" that is, on both 
 ■s of the question they acted according to their 
 light, and consequently were not to be judged of each 
 ether. 
 
 Merrym. Aqgl what a. lovely conclusion he draws 
 from it, " For none of us liveth to himself, and no 
 man ditth unto himself! For whether we live, we 
 live unto the Lord, whether we die, we die unto the 
 Lord : whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the 
 Lord's. ? ? What a wonderful change uiust have been 
 
313 
 
 wrought upon the mind of this once stiff bigotted 
 persecutor, to make him so much the reverse to him- 
 self, so gentle and so mild ! 
 
 JLoveg. But I think this most lovely spirit was still 
 more richly displayed in what the apostle further 
 remarks: " Let us not therefore judge one another 
 any more, but judge this rather, that no man put a 
 stumbling block (or cause of scandal) in his brother's 
 way. I know and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, 
 that there is nothing unclean in itself, [though before 
 the coming of the Lord Jesus many things were pro- 
 hibited as being unclean,] but still to him who es- 
 teemeth any thing unclean to him it is unclean." 
 And now mind what a lovely conclusion he again 
 draws: " But if thy brother be grieved with thy 
 meat, now walkest thou not charitably, or (according 
 to love : ) destroy not him with thy meat for whom 
 Christ died."* " Let not then your good be evil 
 spoken of ; for the kingdom of God is not meats and 
 drinks ; but righteousness and peace, and joy in the 
 Holy Ghost." 
 
 SlapcL Stop there, brother LiOvegood, for a mo- 
 ment, — that's the point. — If any could go to the 
 devil with such blessed excellent tempers, I should 
 like to go with them for the sake of good company. 
 
 Loveg. You will speak like yourself; but it is 
 next said, that " if in these things they serve 
 Christ they are acceptable to God and approved of 
 men." There is no hell for the holv, nor heaven 
 
 * The reader may find, that Mr. Lovegood, in reading his Greek 
 Testament, made some slight alterations in the text, which, after all, 
 are so insignificant, that they prove how well the public may confide in 
 the present translation. But on that expression, " destroy mot him for 
 whom Christ died," he first remarked, that the drift of the argument was 
 only to shew how the peace of such was destroyed, and not that the pur- 
 poses of God according to election could not stand, if the will of an angry 
 bigot should strive to prevent it. - He further shewed, that such were at 
 least the attempts of such angry bigots, however unsuccessful those at- 
 tempts might prove < 
 
314 
 
 for the unholy ; indeed we have heaven in us upon 
 earth when we are holy. But do let us finish our 
 observations on the chapter, which I conclude to be 
 one of the best recipes to cure the bigotry of the hu- 
 man heart. " Let us therefore pursue the things 
 which lead to peace, and the things whereby one 
 inay edify, or build up another : for meat destroy* 
 not the work of God." Now, in my opinion, this 
 evidently refers to those immortal spirits for whom 
 Christ died, and who are the workmanship of his 
 Spirit. Then we see how the apostle next observes, 
 that, through the liberty of the gospel dispensation, 
 c< all things are pure; but that it is evil to a man 
 who eateth with offence," against his own judgment. 
 " Therefore, it is good neither to eat flesh, or drink 
 wine," by which a weak brother stumbleth, is of- 
 fended, or made weak. " Hast thou faith, have it 
 to thyself before God ? Happy is he who condemn- 
 eth not himself in that which he allows, for he that 
 doubts" about the matter, " is condemned" in his 
 own judgment " if he eat," for want of this faith 
 or knowiedge; " for whatsoever is not of faith is 
 sin." 
 
 Slapd. I wish the worthy translators of the New 
 Testament had used a milder word in their trans- 
 lation of that passage. Mrs. Scruple, a • good wo- 
 man in our parish, one of a very conscientious turn 
 of mind, was kept from the sacrament a long time, 
 till I explained matters to her, and gave her to under- 
 stand that the passage had no reference to the sa- 
 crament whatsoever ; and that the passage which 
 still more alarmed her about eating and drinking 
 our own damnation, did not mean eternal damna- 
 tion, but a temporal judgment, as was evidently 
 then the case of the Corinthian church : " For this 
 cause many are weak and sickly among you, and 
 many sleep." 
 
315 
 
 Loveg. I fear many good people are sadly puzzled 
 about such passages as these ; but then We should 
 take more abundant heed to explain them. 
 
 Merrym. It has oftentimes struck me, that much 
 of the same excellent temper and spirit is likewise 
 manifested by the apotetle, not only as it respects 
 meats and days, but also in things offered to idols : 
 this subject also among common people, 1 fear, is 
 but little understood. 
 
 Loveg. As we have a little time before us, we will 
 trace that subject also. You know that the hea- 
 thens in those days adopted a superstitious trick, 
 in offering the beasts they killed at the shambles to 
 some of their heathen deities. A portion of the of- 
 ferings was sold, and another portion of them was 
 eaten in the idol's temples ; while some even of the 
 primitive Christians of a looser cast, two many of 
 whom were found in the Corinthian church, were 
 frequently seen sitting in the idol's temples, and eat- 
 ing these offerings with others, as though they were 
 ters too. The apostle,' therefore, very justly 
 blames them for this lax and wanton conduct ; for 
 though they knew that the idol was nothing, and 
 the food neither the better nor the worse for their 
 supersdaous conduct ; yet while weaker brethren 
 were offended thereby, that altered the case. What 
 a spirit of love he exemplified, when he said, " If 
 meat make my weak brother to offend, I will eat no 
 fiesh while the world stands." 
 
 Slapd. Oh, how soon would these bitter contro- 
 versies about trifling non-essentials be at an end, if 
 all were blessed with the same spirit of love ? and 
 what a distinction the apostle makes between that 
 proud " knowledge which puffeth up, and that 
 humble love \\ hi'ch edifieth ! " 
 
 Loveg. Yes, and how kindly he apologizes for 
 those who in j u dgment differed from himself ! ' 4 Ho w- 
 
 t 
 
316 
 
 beit, there is not in every man this knowledge, for 
 some with conscience of the idol unto this hour, 
 eat it as a thing offered unto an idol, and their 
 conscience being Weak is defiled ; but meat com- 
 ixiendeth us not to God : for neither if we eat are 
 we the better, neither if we eat not are we the 
 w rse." But then we are to take heed, lest this 
 liberty should become a stumbling block to them 
 that are weak; for " if we sin against the bre- 
 thren, and wound their consciences, we sin against 
 Christ." 
 
 Merry m. Has not the apostle some additional 
 remarks of the saifie nature, in the tenth chapter of 
 the same epistle ? 
 
 Loveg* Yes, and most tender and delightful re- 
 marks they are. Oh ! what is Christianity without 
 the loving and forbearing mind that was in Christ? 
 but we will turn to them. He first observes, many 
 things may be lawful that are not expedient, because 
 they edify not : how beautifully he therefore directs, 
 4; Let no man seek his own, but every man another's 
 wealth or good !" And after some further direction, 
 as it respects the weak consciences of others, what 
 an admirable conclusion he draws ! " Whether 
 therefore ye eat, or whether ye drink, or whatso- 
 ever ye do, do all to the glory of God ; give no of- 
 fence, neither to the Jews nor to the Gentiles, nor 
 to" your brother Christians, called, " the church of 
 God ; even as I please all men in all (lawful) things ; 
 not seeking my own profit, but\he profit of many, 
 that they may be saved." 
 
 Slapd. And I think to this we may also add that 
 most beautiful passage, which displays so much of 
 the same blessed temper. " Unto the Jew became 
 I as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews : to them that 
 are under the law, (ruled by the Jewish law,) as 
 under the law:" while he acted die sair.e towards 
 
317 
 
 the Gentiles, as being without that law, that he 
 might " gain them also." " To the weak, that I might 
 gain the weak. I am made all things to all men, 
 that I might by. all means save some; and this I do 
 for the Gospel's sake." 
 
 Merrym. Then it should appear the crime was 
 not in differing in judgment with others ; for it seems 
 they differed even wiih the apostle himself; but for 
 shewing such a contentious spirit against each othpr. 
 One would think that, this breed of coarse christians 
 had never read the thirteenth of the first of Corin- 
 thians, concerning that charity or love, " which suf- 
 fereth long and is kind, that envieth not, that vaim- 
 teth not itself, that is not easily puffed up" — Let me 
 see, I forget what comes next. 
 
 JLoveg. Why, that love is a modest grace ; it does 
 4t not behave itself unseemly :" that it is a disinterest- 
 ed grace; it seekelh not its own: that it is a peaceable 
 grace; " it is not easily provoked:" thai it is an 
 affectionate grace : it thiukelh no evil. It is also a 
 most happy and comfortable, grace ; for it rejoiceth 
 not in iniquity, but it rejoiceth in the truth : and, 
 lastly, it is a most patient grace; it 4 * beareth all 
 things, believeth all things, hopethall things, and en-' 
 dm eth ail things. " . 
 
 Merrym. While mankind is so corrupted, what 
 need have we for the exercises of these, graces to- 
 wards each other? ( To Mr. LovegoodJ Sir, when I 
 .first heard you preach, that naturally sent me to the 
 Bible, and I was immediately convinced the religion 
 of that book was the religion of love. 
 
 Slapd. Don't run from the subject, my young. 
 friend, as I do when. I get into , the pulpit, till my 
 text brings me back again. What becomes of the 
 religion of Mr. Sieeplernan or Mr. Stiff, if this be 
 .the religion of the Eibie ? 
 
 JLoveg. Oh my old eood friend, I am more than 
 
 Vol. 11. - E e 
 
318 
 
 ever convinced of this, when I consider other passa- 
 ges which have such a remarkably strong reference 
 to our tempers, and the feelings of our minds, on all 
 these occasions, before God. How much of the mind 
 of Christ appears in that passage to the Ephesians ! 
 " I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you, 
 that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye 
 are called, with all lowliness and meekness; with 
 long suffering, forbearing one another in love, en- 
 deavouring to keep the unity of the spirit in the 
 bond of peace." 
 
 Merrym. And what a heaven even upon earth we 
 should enjoy, if all people did but prove the reality 
 of their Christianity, by following the same apostle's 
 advice, in . " laying aside all anger, wrath, and 
 malice;" and instead of these, " as the elect of God, 
 holy and beloved, put on bowels of mercies, kind- 
 ness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long suffering, 
 forbearing one another, forgiving one another; if 
 any man have a quarrel against any, even as Christ 
 forgave us ;" and then again, " above all things put 
 on love, which is the bond of perfectness." 
 
 JLoveg. Oh, this is Christianity indeed! I heard 
 once of a deist who could ridicule the Bible while he 
 was entirely ignorant of its contents and design. But 
 when he was referring to the twelfth of the Romans, 
 he was struck with his own wickedness and folly, for 
 having ridiculed a book so w wonderfully calculated 
 for the good of mankind : and how admirably are 
 these blessed tempers inculcated in the same chap- 
 ter ! " Let love be without dissimulation ; abhor that 
 which is evil, cleave to that which is good ; be kindly 
 affectionate one to another with brotherly love, in 
 honour preferring one another." 
 
 Slapd. Almost the whole chapter runs upon that 
 subject; but the conclusion is most excellent : " Re- 
 compence to no man evil for evil. If it be possible, 
 
319 
 
 live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge 
 not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath. 
 Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he 
 thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt 
 heap coals of fire on his head." 
 
 Merryra. We shall have enough to do, if we quote 
 all the passages that relate to this subject : the sum 
 and substance of the Bible seems to be nothing but 
 love. 
 
 Slapd. I am sure, all the epistles of John are en- 
 tirely on that subject. " Beloved, let us love one ano- 
 ther, for love is of God ; and every one that loveth 
 is born oi God, and knowcth God." 
 
 jLoveg. Aye, born of God ; and by that word how 
 evidently it appears, we have no solid proof of rege- 
 neration, but by its effects as produced by the grace 
 of love ; for " love is the Fulfilling of the law T . 55 
 
 Merrym. The doctrine of a divine change seems 
 to me to be the glory of the scriptures. 
 
 Loveg. Yes, and a full proof of their divine origi- 
 nal. ]None but a God of almighty power could dare 
 to give the promise to change the heart of man, since 
 nothing short of an almighty pow er could accom- 
 plish such a change. 
 
 Merrym. I can put my solemn amen to that truth ; 
 I never can be too much humbled for what I was, 
 nor can I ever be too thankful for what, by the grace 
 of God, I now am. — Oh, that text, " What, know 
 ye not that your bodies are the temples of the Holy 
 Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and 
 ye are not your own? ye are bought with a price, 
 therefore glorify God in your body and your spirit, 
 which are God's." 
 
 Slapcl It strikes me, I'll preach upon that subject 
 in your church, when you are gone to Locksbury . 
 
 Loveg. You cannot take a better. 
 
320 
 
 Slapd. But will you try to make me a hymn suita- 
 ble to the occasion ? I am no poet, , 
 
 Loveg. I'll attempt to put a few rhymes together 
 to the best of my power. 
 
 Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Worthy and Mrs. 
 Merry man came up, otherwise their profitable con- 
 versation on the new birth might haVe continued. 
 They took a further range about the pleasure grounds, 
 and then returned to the house. 
 
 Mr Lovegood shortly afterwards went his second 
 journey to 1 ocksbury, which was not less grateful 
 and satisfactory to him than the former. But Dr. 
 Rationality, Mr. Discussion, and others, took the 
 pains to procure Dr. Stately and his curate Mr. Lead- 
 head, to whom Mr. Fribble very readily lent the 
 pulpit, to confute the enthusiastic notions of Mr. 
 Lovegood. But this they did in such an absurd and 
 contradictory manner,' that they entirely confuted 
 themselves thereby. Dr. Stately held him cut at arms 
 length, with the most supercilious contempt, as be- 
 ing hypocritically strict and sanctimonious in his re- 
 ligion, while his curate Mr. Leadhead, could under- 
 stand him no better, than, that he was a preacher 
 of faith without \vorks; both of them charging him 
 also with several other preposterous notions, the 
 most contradictory and absurd ; and the result was, 
 that the people's minds were not a little confirmed 
 in those essential truths, which Mr. Lovegood had - 
 formerly delivered among them. 
 
 Mr. Lovegood also told about a Mr. Timid he 
 found out in that neighbourhood, who, though he 
 preaches the gospel, yet does it in such a cold and 
 cautious manner, that nobody is the better for it ; 
 that he is ever pleading the necesssity of so preaching, 
 as not to srive offence ; and that he had no notion of 
 
321 
 
 exciting people's prejudices, by being too plain. 
 Thus, while. by attempting to render " the preach- 
 ing of the cross" of Christ palatable to the world, 
 so as that " the offence of it might cease ;" neither 
 the world nor the church would give him credit for 
 his design. Mr. Lovegood, however, is of opinion, 
 that if he could be got to take some of Mr. Slapdash's 
 elixir, which, while it warms the constitution, and 
 is an excellent stomachic, yet never throws into a 
 fever, it might purge him of some of his worldly 
 prudence, and thus make him an useful minister in 
 those parts. 
 
 As it is now high time to abridge all these events, 
 nothing more shall be laid before the reader, than 
 Mr. Lovegood's hymn, made for Mr. Slapdash's ser- 
 mon as mentioned above. 
 
 The sermon, it seems, was much in- his own 
 style. When he had to display the regenerate heart 
 of man, under the metaphor of the living temple, 
 his imagination became so sprightly, and his lan- 
 guage so animated, that it v^as almost a query with 
 Farmer Littleworth, Thomas Newman, and many 
 others, whether he was not nearly as great a minister 
 as Mr. Lovegood himself : however, the reader may 
 depend upon it, that Mr. Slapdash became. a great 
 favourite at Brookfield, and that his visit was attend- 
 ed with an abundance of good, though it was the 
 opinion of Mr. Spiteful and Mr. Doiittle, that he 
 was one of the madest fellows that ever entered a 
 pulpit ; while he was followed with the cold pity of 
 Mr. Wisehead, that he was sorry he was not more 
 rational in his religion, though he believed him to^ 
 be a pood-hearted man. 
 
 Were the whole life and conversation of Mr. - 
 Lovegood to be drawn out at fail length, so holy 
 and active was he in all manner of conversation, that - 
 these little volumes might soon be swollen' into vo- 
 
 E e2. 
 
J22 
 
 Iiimes almost as bulky as the Statutes at Large ; on 
 this account, many pleasant and profitable occur- 
 rences must be omitted, while the copy of the hymn, 
 mentioned above, shall conclude the dialogue. 
 
 THE HYMN. 
 
 " Believers the Temples of the Holy Ghost. 11 
 Cor. vi. 19, 20.- 
 
 Produc'd at fir"t, by pow'r divine, 
 
 Man as a creature stood, 
 A jsacred building in design, 
 
 A dwelling-place for G od. 
 
 With finish'd art the pile was rear'd, 
 
 Well fitted for it's use ; 
 Just symmetry throughout appear'd, 
 
 And glory rlll'd the house. 
 
 God smil'd in friendly visits there, 
 
 And thus his dwelling blest, 
 While solemn acts of praise and prayer 
 
 The creature's love exprest. t 
 
 But sin defae'd its form, and broke 
 
 The stately structure down ; 
 His ruir/d temple God forsook, 
 
 And left it with a frown. 
 
 Polluted thus, and thus abhorr'd, 
 
 The house in ruins lay, 
 Until again by Christ restor'd, 
 
 His glory to display. 
 
 Laid deep in love this building stands, 
 
 Cemented with his biood ; 
 Work'd ail with unpolluted hands, 
 
 And fitted up for God. 
 
 Here his transforming Spirit dwells, 
 
 To beautify the place ; 
 With kindly influence sin expels, 
 
 And iheds forth life and grace. 
 
323 
 
 Oh, dearest Lord ! return, reside 
 Within each sinful heart : 
 
 Be thou our king, and none beside, 
 And never more depart. 
 
 As temples of the living God, 
 Thus shall we prove thy grace : 
 
 We'll sing aloud redeeming blood, 
 And chaunt thine endless praise. 
 
 
324 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXIV 
 
 MR. CONSIDERATE, MR. TRAFFIC, FARMER LIT- 
 TLEWORTH, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 
 
 NO GOOD MARRIAGES FROM BAD MATCHES. 
 
 SOME time after Mr. Merryman set the example 
 of marriage in his union with Miss Worthy, 
 which is said to be so honourable in itself, and was 
 so honourably conducted by them, other matches 
 were thought of. Henry Littleworth had the hap- 
 piness to be united to Mr. Considerate's daughter, 
 and Bifiy Traffic was determined to make himself 
 happy with Miss Nancy Littleworth ; and about the 
 same time Miss Patty Littleworth was married to 
 Will Frolic, mentioned in dialogue the sixth. 
 
 Previous to the final settlement of these marriages, 
 it was thought necessary that the old people should 
 meet together, to arrange the family concerns of 
 each party. As it would, on the one hand, be very 
 wrong in me to divulge these family secrets ; so, on 
 the other, it would by no means prove an interesting 
 subject to the reader. Suffice it to say, the meeting 
 took place at Mr. Considerate's, Mr. Lovegood, ibr 
 the sake of his wise advice, being one of the pjirty ; 
 and in the evening of the day the conversation took 
 the following turn : 
 
 Farmer. Weil, Mr. Considerate, I tells my son 
 Harry he is in high luck to have your daughter : the 
 Lord keep him humble ! 
 
325 
 
 Consid. A difference of a few pounds, as it re- 
 spects money matters, is of very little consequence 
 either one way or the other, where the best principle 
 for happiness is solidly established by the blessing of 
 the grace of God upon the heart. 
 
 Loveg. All our happiness between each other rests 
 upon veiy slippery ground, independent of the grace 
 of God. Even the common social and relative duties 
 of life, which so plainly recommend themselves to 
 every rpan's judgment and conscience, will be ill 
 practised where this divine principle is wanting. 
 
 Fanner. Aye, aye, so we found it in our house, 
 till we found the grace of God in our hearts. And if 
 dear Harry makes as good a husband as he has been 
 dutiful and loving to me as a son, since he has been 
 blessed with this precious grace, I have no doubt, 
 though he is but a farmer's son, that they will be 
 main happy wiih each other. 
 
 Consid. Why, Mr. Littleworth, your son has his 
 share of good sense, and you gave him a good edu- 
 cation, and God has given him the blessing of his 
 grace, and my daughter is an excellent child : I have 
 no doubt, therefore, if God preserves their lives, but 
 that they will be a happy pair. 
 
 Farmer. Ah ! my poor daughter Patty, she will 
 never be so happy with that wild young blade, Will 
 Frolic, and she is quite bent upon having him.— 
 Poor girl, I cannot help it ; if she will please her 
 fancy, I fear she will plague her heart. 
 
 Loveg. Why, Mr. Littleworth, under these cir- 
 cumstances, things must be permitted to take their 
 course. When children grow beyond our restraint, 
 oftentimes opposition answers no other end than to 
 rivet them in their purposes. You can go no further 
 than to act a parent's part, and commit them to God. 
 
 Farmer. Yes, yes, sir, I shan't mind giving her 
 a child's portion ; I can afford it without injuring the 
 
326 
 
 rest of my children, for the Lord has wonderfully 
 blessed me of late : But I am afraid that spark is more 
 fond of the money than of my daughter, though, at 
 times, he appears desperate loving. He took it as a 
 hard gripe upon him, when I would have the money 
 settled upon my daughter and her children, especi- 
 ally when I did not think it necessary to bind up 
 Billy Traffic in the same way, in his marriage with 
 my daughter Nancy : but why should I ? for Billy is 
 a very sober, regular, good young man ; but as for 
 Will Frolic, if I had not bound him up pretty tight) 
 he would soon have made ducks and drakes of all the 
 money. 
 
 Cons id. Your determination had almost been the 
 cause of breaking the match. 
 
 Farmer. Why that was the upshot of the design. 
 Harry, dear child, said, that womd be the best way to 
 settle matters, though he w r as once sq wicked him- 
 self ; but when his old miserly uncle, Mr. Stingey, 
 the tallow-chandler, said he would give a bond to his 
 nephew of two hundred pounds more to be paid a iter 
 his death, provided it was all secured to my daughter 
 and her children, that brought on the match again ; 
 and though they now appear so loving, I am sadly 
 afraid they will soon live like cat and dog. 
 
 Lovcg. I should not wonder at it ; ior there is no 
 real Foundation for love, but in the love of God. 
 That foolish fondness, which some people discover 
 towards each other, very frequently degenerates into 
 complete disgust. 
 
 Farmer. It is to admiration how I used to remark 
 what a different way of courting my Harry and Billy 
 Traffic had to Will Frolic. Whenever Billy came 
 to my house to see Nancy, he would behave so de- 
 cent and orderly, that it was quite a comfort to see 
 them together. And whenever your daughter visit- 
 ed us, we always found she never would come with- 
 
sir 
 
 out Madam Considerate or yourself; and what nice 
 profitable talk we always had ? But when that wild 
 blade would come to see Patty, he would act as if he 
 was half mad. Neither I nor Harry could keep him 
 in any tolerable order: and I never could get rid of* 
 him, till I called the servants in for family prayer, 
 and then he would be off like a pistol. — Poor girl, I 
 am desperately afraid that the match will be her ruin- 
 ation. 
 
 Consid. I am sorry to hear that he is such a sad 
 wild fellow ; and I am told also that he is very in- 
 sulting in his conversation. 
 
 Farmer. Why, he never could keep his tongue in 
 any sort of order when at my house; what an uproar 
 he made one night, when he told ray daughter Polly 
 that she would never be married because she had lost 
 two of her fore teeth, and then she was all in a pas- 
 sion — She is so full of envy that her younger sisters 
 Patty and Nancy should be married before her. 
 
 Consid. ( Smiling. ) Perhaps if the loss had been on 
 the tongue iiibtead of the teeth, it might have been 
 a less calamity. 
 
 Fanner. Ah, poor Polly, even from her cradle she 
 was a sad crabbed child, and I think she is crosser 
 than ever, since she has taken to spend so much of 
 her time at Madam Toogood's ; and then she comes 
 home as brim full of scandal as ever she can hold ; 
 but still she is my child — The Lord make her his 
 child ! 
 
 Consid. Well, I am glad, Mr. Littleworth, my 
 daughter's visits were so acceptable at your house. I 
 can assure you, Mr. Henry's visits were not less so 
 at ours. His conversation at ail times was much to 
 the purpose, and instead of being driven away on ac- 
 count of prater, he would oiten stop and be our 
 family chaplain ; and mueh to the edification of us 
 all. 
 
 i 
 
328 
 
 Farmer. Aye, aye, dear child, and he prays so 
 htutibiy, and ^o much from the heart; I am sure it 
 dues my heart 'good to heir him. And then, as soon 
 as ever he has done the business of the farm, away 
 he goes after some of his good books; raid directly as 
 he has saved a little money, he is sure to go and buy 
 some fresh ones : but he is extravagant in nothing 
 else, dear child ! 
 
 Loveg. Really , Mr. Little worth, it appears to me, 
 that the grace of God- mends the head, as well as 
 converts the heart. It brings the mind into such a 
 sober, holy, regular frame, we can know nothing 
 of the good of our own existence till we exist in 
 
 CxGu. 
 
 Farmer. Why, now it appears just so to me, as 
 though I had been ah my days without brains, while 
 I was living without grace. But blessed be God, 
 : nice winter qyer^ngs we now spend at cur 
 e, when Harry sits and reads, and talks to us 
 out of some pi his good books. And then he gets 
 Billy Traffic and some other young people to come 
 and see him. At times we have quite a little con- 
 grv.gation, and then we have such sweet singling and 
 prayers ; but as for my part, I never could sing, but 
 I does my best to " make a joyful noise unto the 
 Lord." 
 
 Consid. You can't think me to blame, Mr. Little- 
 Worth, while 1 give my free consent that my daughter 
 should many such an excellent young man. 
 
 Farmer. To be sure, sir, I cannot but be very 
 thankful for the merciful providence of God, that has 
 contrived such a charming match for my child. Lit- 
 tle did I ihiiik when he wa ked wild sailor* that| 
 he would ever be married 10 a gentleman's daugh- 
 ter, who has been twice .mayor of MapieXoa — The| 
 Lord keep him from pride ! 
 
329 
 
 ConsicL There is no great honour in being Mayor 
 of Mapleton, Mr. Littleworth, 
 
 Farmer. Why, Mr. Strut, the present Mayor, 
 don't think so ; he fancies he has a right to act as 
 though he were a little god. How he struts about 
 our town, like a crow in a gutter. To my mind he 
 thinks himself as great a man as King George the 
 Third, — God bless him ! 
 
 Loveg. I hope, Mr. Littleworth, your son has too 
 much good sense and grace to be proud. Pride is 
 nothing better than the offspring of folly, and the 
 disease of fools ; and pride turns all things into con- 
 fusion. When proud people meet together, they 
 never can be happy. 
 
 Farmer. Why Harry, dear child ! makes us all 
 happy; and Nancy is a sweet, humble, diligent girl. 
 And she is so notable and attentive to her mother. 
 My dame sees what it is that makes the best child. 
 She begins to think of coming to Brookfield church 
 oftener than she used to do. I hope to the Lord she 
 feels more in her heart than she likes to express, for 
 she is ashamed to say much, as she cannot forget how 
 she thwarted us, when we began to think about the 
 salvation of our souls. But the Lord be praised ! 
 she is wonderfully altered. 
 
 Loveg. Indeed, sir, I think she is. Nothing can 
 please her better than the intended marriages of her 
 son and daughter ; while she is so much concerned 
 at the union designed between Will Frolic and Miss 
 Patty. But it seems that several bad matches have 
 taken place in Mapleton and its neighbourhood of 
 late ; I am surprized, however, if in this world we 
 are to be surprized at any thing, that good tempered, 
 humble, young woman, Rachel Meek, the- linen- 
 draper's daughter, should have consented to marry 
 that strange' dogmatic young chap, Jack Positive the 
 lawyer. 
 
 Vol. II. Ff 
 
330 
 
 Co?7sicl. Ah, sir ! love is blind ; I believe the un- 
 happy young woman heartily repents of it. If ever 
 she presumes to give her advice, she is snapt at di- 
 rectly. — He will say, " Madam, when I need your 
 advice, I'll ask it — till then, I shall act as 1 like 
 best." 
 
 Loveg. What must one of her humble and tender 
 mind ^ei, under treatment so contemptuous and 
 cruel ? 
 
 Consid. Sir, he will do worse than all this. If the 
 poor innocent creature asks a question; his answer 
 will be, " I shall do as I like best." If he should 
 venture upon any wrong or wild pursuits, as obsti- 
 nacy frequently misguides him, and she begins with 
 ever so much meekness to expostulate, his answer 
 will be, " I shan't be guided by a woman." Then, 
 lest she should further provoke him, she very wisely 
 keeps silent, only now and then drops a tear. 
 
 Farmer. Poor dear creature, she must have a dog^s 
 life of it. 
 
 Consid. I dare say a much worse life than your 
 dog leads ; for whatever he commands must be ob- 
 served, be it ever so absurd : and when he has burnt 
 his fingers by his own folly, he will blame her that 
 she did not consult with him ; while he appears so 
 little to respect her judgment, as not to allow her 
 to go to market to provide for the family, but 
 under his orders and directions* 
 
 Loveg. Better to be a beast of burden than the 
 wife oi such a man. If " wives are to be in subjec- 
 tion," yet they are not doomed to be the abject 
 slaves of such abominable tyrants. But her lather, 
 it seems, was always against the match. 
 
 Farmer. Ah, fathers can't, at all times, get their 
 children to follow their advice; we are a stiff-necked 
 generation ; but to my mind that was another strange 
 match on the contrary side of the question, when my 
 
331 
 
 poor taylor, Simon Simple, married Fanny Pert the 
 milliner, for though he makes the breeches, yet all 
 the folk say she is determined to wear them. 
 
 Traffic. Why he has been the taylor for our family 
 for some time, and while he does not want for a share 
 of good sense, yet being of a meek and harmless 
 disposition, he has unfortunately given the rod out 
 of his own hands, and then she flogs him well for 
 his folly. When my son Billy once went to their 
 house about a job, he tells a strange story on his re- 
 turn. 
 
 Consid. What was it, sir ? 
 
 Traffic. Why, the door being a little a-jar he heard 
 her cry, " Simon, why, Simon; what are you at: 
 why don't you come down directly ? Young Mr- 
 Traffic is here ; I shan't stand bawling after you all 
 day." And when he gave her to understand that he 
 had overheard her coarse wav of talk to her husband, 
 she blushed, and said " she did not mean to scold 
 him, and that it was only the tone of her voice that 
 made him think so, and that they lived very happy 
 together. " 
 
 Consid. Happy ! how can he be happy while she 
 is dinning his 'ears all -the day with her impertinent 
 and noisy talk, and with her insulting reflections ? I 
 believe that all his happiness consists in patiently su£* 
 fering himself to be hen-pecked whensoever she 
 pleases, without saying a word on his own behalf. 
 
 Far. There is another ''match nearly of the same 
 sort, which is quite as bad. You know a Mr. Pla- 
 cid that married Miss Fury. By ail accounts what 
 a life she leads the poor gentleman ! I am told, there 
 is not a bigger termagant in the town. 
 
 Consid. I know the unfortunate man very well. 
 If ever he thwarts her, directly she is the downright 
 tiger — She hears not a word of reason, but falls into 
 a terrible passion, and then cries out of mad- re- 
 venge. 
 
332 
 
 Traffic. What can he do with such a creature ? 
 
 Consid. Why, he puts her in good humour again 
 as soon as he can; and, in order to keep a little 
 peace, he is obliged to submit to all her whims and 
 projects, and let her have her own way in every 
 thing. — And all that won't do. 
 
 Par. Why, to my mind, she must be worse than 
 the devil, for there is an old proverb, " The devil is 
 good natured when he is pleas.ed." 
 
 Consid. But it ha difficult matter to say when she 
 is pleased : for if her husband dares not contradict 
 her, yet she supposes herself at all times at liberty to 
 contradict him. It has oftentimes grieved me to 
 hear how rude and snappish she is to him upon every 
 turn, and yet she won't suffer any one else to scold 
 him but herself. Once on an occasion of this sort, he 
 said, " My dear, I should not care if all the world 
 scolded me, provided you did not scold me your- 
 self.'*' 
 
 Traffic. I'll warrant she gave him a good sharp 
 curtain lecture for that speech. 
 
 ConskL No doubt of it. But this is not all of poor 
 Mr. Placid's misery. She is such a horrid tormentor 
 of her servants, hunting and driving them about like 
 a mad woman ; if there are any servants he likes, 
 she is sure to dislike them, and to drive them out of 
 the house as fast as she can. She says, if women 
 won't keep up their authority, it is their own fault. 
 
 Loveg. It is a terrible evil when poor servants are 
 to have their lives made a burden to themselves by 
 such tyrannic usage. It is to be lamented, that such 
 masters and mistresses were not made to serve 
 also under the hard hand of oppression. There is 
 not only a deal of ungodly cruelty', but a consider- 
 able degree of cowardly meanness, exemplified by the 
 conduct of these petty tyrants. But white some 
 ch£s about these parts have been terribly calami- 
 

 333 
 
 tons, others of them have been as singularly ridicu- 
 lous. 
 
 Traffic. I suppose, sir, you allude to that strange 
 match which took place the other day, between Miss 
 Sally Chatterbox, and old Mr. .Taciturnity. 
 
 Lovcg. Oh, that was a strange business — They say, 
 the sedate old man is so grave, that he won't speak 
 till he has been spoken to, two or three times, while 
 her tongue is-never at rest. 
 
 Consid. It seems she is good tempered, but the 
 greatest chatterer that ever lived ; and runs on with 
 such egregious stuff (for people who talk much fre- 
 quently talk nonsense) that she often puts the poor 
 old man sadly to the blush. 
 
 Traffic. I wonder how the old gentleman can 
 answer half her questions. 
 
 Consid I am told she does not ask so many ques- 
 tions, but keeps on with a strait-forward rattle ; and 
 the few questions she asks, the old man evades as 
 well as he can. He hums and haws : and now and 
 then cries, " Yes, my dear, 5 ' and then " No, my 
 dear ;" and then again, " I can't answer you, you 
 speak so fast." And when his patience is nearly ex- 
 hausted, he'll cry, " My dear, you talk so fast that 
 it quite makes my head ache." 
 
 Loveg. What is supposed to be the difference be- 
 tween their age ? 
 
 Consid. Why, Miss was about twenty-five, and the 
 old gentleman about sixty-five, and it seems this 
 young lady is his third wife. He is a very good sort 
 of an old gentleman, and has a considerable deal of 
 money, while the young lady has little or none, only 
 she had, as it is called, a very polite education at a 
 boarding school ; where, I suppose, she was taught 
 to talk at this extraordinary rate. — But did you 
 never hear what a sad mistake took place, wten the 
 old gentleman was on a journey, about a fortnight 
 
 Ef'2 
 
after their marriage, with his new wife and his son 
 by his first wife, to pay a visit to some distant 
 friends ? 
 
 JLovcg. The story is quite new to me. 
 
 ConsicL Sir, report says, that when they came to 
 the inn where they were to rest for the eyening, the 
 old gentleman and his son retired to sleep somewhat 
 sooner than the bride, she being engaged to write 
 some letters to her friends on this happy event. 
 When she called for the chambermaid, she unhappi- 
 ly turned her into the chamber of the old gentle- 
 man's son. The young man finding that a young 
 woman was beginning to undress by his bed side, 
 and not immediately recollecting her, cried out 
 against her as an impudent strumpet ; and told her 
 to get out of the room, or he would kick her down 
 stairs. Directly she made her escape, called for the 
 chambermaid, told her what a mistake she had made, 
 and asked where the other gentleman was gone to 
 bed ; the maid answered, " Why ma'am, there is no 
 other strange gentleman gone to bed in this house, 
 but your grand papa." 
 
 Loveg. What blunders are produced by these im- 
 prudent matches ! But how came Mrs. Liberal to 
 put up with Mr. Scraper for her second husband ? 
 
 Traffic. By all accounts there is sad quarrelling 
 between them already. While she will always have 
 her table covered with sufficient provision, that 
 a plenty may be left in the pantry for occasional 
 visitants, he will be hunting after bits and scraps, 
 supposing that almost any thing will do to mess up 
 for a dinner. And as about food, so he is about rai- 
 ment. He would appear like an old broken trades- 
 man out of a workhouse, with his tattered clothes 
 and darned stockings, if his wife would let him ; 
 and when she only gave away some of his old clothes 
 the other day, that had got into this trim, to a poor 
 
335 
 
 old neighbour, this so offended him that he would 
 not speak to her for near a fortnight. 
 
 Loveg. Does not he want her to dress as shabby 
 as himself? 
 
 Consid. O yes, Sir ; and he is always telling her 
 where the cheapest old remnants are to be bought ; 
 and that she leaves off her clothes too soon, when, she 
 might scour and dye, and then turn them, and thus 
 wear them over and over again. 
 
 Loveg. This must make sad jarrings between 
 them : what strange confusion is created in the 
 world by the contests which exist between the dif- 
 ferent corruptions of the human heart ! 
 
 Consid. Yes, and when people are united, who 
 are under the influence of the same sort of corrup- 
 tions, the evil will be abundantly worse. What a 
 terrible misfortune it was to Mr. Sharp and Miss 
 Trimmer, that ever they should make a match of it ! 
 
 Traffic. Ah ! that poor girl was ruined from her 
 childhood. Her foolish mother humoured her on 
 every occasion ; and though her temper was natural- 
 ly bad, yet her mother has made it ten thousand 
 times worse, by puffing up the pride of her heart, in 
 telling her she was a girl of fortune : and yet at first" 
 they appeared fond of each other, though such love 
 scarcely deserves the name. 
 
 Consid. W hatever love might have been between 
 them, 'tis all hatred now. While he tries to thwart 
 and contradict her upon every occasion, she flies at 
 him in return like a fury, ...calling him fool, puppy, 
 and tells him he would have been a beggar if it had 
 not been for her fortune : though his business, as a 
 large vinegar merchant, is quite equal to the trifling 
 sum he may have received with her. 
 
 Farmer. But I'll warrant she pays him home a- 
 gain, and gives him tit for tat. I remember she came 
 once to our house to see my daughter Polly, so dress- 
 
336 
 
 edupin her furbelows andfal-lals, and I thought her 
 tongue run desperate glib. I have a notion she is a 
 sad saucy puss. 
 
 Consul. Her husband, however, it seems, can 
 match her in language and insolence. M Hold your 
 tongue, you insolent jade." — " Madam, I will be mas- 
 ter; n and sometimes the house is all of an uproar 
 between them. Of late, it seems, she has been very 
 jealous of him, and trims him well on that score. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, the terrible consequences of sin ! 
 What a variety of little hells are created in hearts, 
 and in families, and throughout all the world by its 
 horrid existence ! Lord, what is man ! who can 
 deny the fall? 
 
 Consid. True, dear sir, and I think there is ano- 
 ther union in our town, which perfectly proves the 
 same awful truth. It evidently appears to me, that 
 it is almost as necessary to prove that a man is to 
 die, as that he is a fallen creature. 
 
 Loveg. To what other matches do you refer ? 
 
 Consid. Oh, sir, it was that unhappy union be- 
 tween Miss Jemima Meek, and Mr. Lofty, who is a 
 great man in his own esteem, because his great 
 grand- mother was the daughter of some lord, who 
 lived in the reign of Charles the Second ; and on 
 this account, though he is almost a beggar in his cir- 
 cumstances, he can strut about with such conse- 
 quence ! — 
 
 Loveg. What silly thoughts can feed that carrion 
 bird of pride, when roosted during the night time of 
 our ignorance in the unregenerate heart of man ! 
 But who is this Mr. Lofty? 
 
 Consid. He is the gingerbread-baker, that lives in 
 Pride Alley. 
 
 Loveg. Oh, that is the shop, I suppose, where Mrs, 
 Considerate is so kind as to buy her fine golden 
 kings and queens, as presents to my little children. 
 
337 
 
 Consid. Yes, sir, and while he is selling these fine 
 golden things for a farthing a-piece, he is feeding 
 upon the conceit of his ancient noble blood. Be* 
 sides, he fancies himself a man of reading and great 
 knowledge. — He is one of Dr. Dronish's hearers. 
 
 Loveg. Well, this beggarly pride is the worst of 
 pride. But how does he treat the poor young 
 woman ? 
 
 Consid Why, in language like this. If she asks 
 a question, he answers, " Child, I'll tell you by and 
 by." If she humbly repeats it, u Child, don't be 
 troublesome :" if she ventures to speak in company, 
 " Child, don't expose yourself;" or " How should 
 you know, child ?" If she proposes to do any thing, 
 his answer is, " Child, I shall think of it." If he 
 w 7 ants her to do any thing it is, " Child do this," or 
 " Child do that;" in short, he scarcely treats her 
 with the respect due to an upper servant. 
 
 Farmer. Old Betty Bustle, who has lived in our 
 house these five and fwenty years, would run away 
 from us, if I and my dame were to talk to her as 
 Master Lofty, the gingerbread baker, talks to that 
 poor creature. — Well, the Lord be praised, that he 
 has a little humbled my proud nature ; but to my 
 mind, I had once such noble blood in my heart, while 
 I was living without God in the world, and while I 
 was blustering with my big looks about the market. 
 
 But now for an abridgement of the subject. It was 
 during the same evening's conversation much la- 
 mented, that Mr. Lion should have been married to 
 Miss Pigeon, who treated her with an abundance of 
 austerity, though it caused some laughter when they 
 conversed about the marriage of Mr. Blunt to Miss 
 Prudish ; while the plainness and simplicity of the 
 
one were contrasted with the unmeaning affectation 
 of the other; though it was a much less laughable 
 concern when Mr. Smart, who was all vivacity and 
 wit, married Betty Dull ; and no wonder that soon 
 after their marriage he treated her with sad neglect. 
 
 A counterpart of the same sort of unhappy matches 
 took place between Mr. Consequence and Miss No- 
 body, who never could find out her stupidity till 
 aftbr he had married her. and then treated her with 
 cruel contempt. 
 
 After this, Mr. Lovegood had to improve the sub- 
 ject. He very wisely remarked, that our infinitely 
 merciful God had so regulated the government of 
 the human race, as that they should be helpmates to 
 each other, that thereby a bond of general union 
 might be created for the good of the whole. That 
 the poor, though in servitude, should find guardians 
 and supporters in the rich, who have it in their 
 power to make even their situation a blessing to 
 them, by their merciful and kind deportment to- 
 wards them. That parental authority was most mer- 
 ciful ly instituted according to the laws of nature, so 
 that die care needed by children, and the respect 
 and honour due to parents arising therefrom, might 
 create a bond of union between ktmiiies through life. 
 And that the foundation* of this originated in the 
 marriage contract which civilized nations had uni- 
 versally adopted, and which, when broken, rendered 
 mankind a set of barbarians and brutes. 
 
 He next observed, all duties of this sort were re- 
 ciprocal. Masters are to command with mercy ; 
 while servants are to submit and perform their ofiice 
 with fidelity. Parents arc to educate with the ten- 
 derest affection ; children are to obey with the purest 
 simplicity and love. So as it respects the marriage 
 union. — Minds differ. It was certainly determined 
 that the wife should submit and obev ; she was " the 
 
339 
 
 first in transgression: 5 ' but then the husband's duty 
 is not the less to " love, cherish, and respect her," 
 as " the weaker vessel." And while the divine mind 
 has determined that she should be in subjection, yet 
 such husbands as are blessed with die mind of Christ 
 will remember, that they are directed to " love their 
 wives as Christ also loved the church, and gave him- 
 self for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it by 
 the washing of water by the word. For that no 
 man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth 
 it and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church." 
 
 Next this excellent moralist on evangelical prin- 
 ciples, asked the question : Will such christians act 
 as tyrannic lords over their wives, because it is said 
 " the man was not created for the woman, but the 
 woman for the man;" that " the man is the image 
 and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of the 
 man?" 
 
 I once knew a pretended boaster of religion, who 
 was ever quoting against his poor wife, that " the hus- 
 band was the head of the wife,' even as Christ is the 
 head of the church," and that " as the church is sub- 
 ject unto Christ, so wives are to be subject to their 
 own husbands in all things :" and Oh, how he used 
 to bore the poor woman on these words, " in all 
 things !" But let all these jarring strings be reduced 
 into holy harmony and order, and let the wife learn, 
 as the scripture has directed her, " to reverence her 
 husband;" and let her distinguished ornament be 
 that " of a meek and quiet spirit, which in the sight 
 of God is of great price ;" and in that happy union 
 each of them will find their paradise regained. 
 
 Mr, Lovegood, at the same time, gave it as his 
 opinion, that nothing was more beneficial to the 
 good of society than that young persons, blessed with 
 the fear of God, should thus unite themselves to 
 each other on an early day. That it was the duty 
 
of parents not wantonly to thwart, though to regu- 
 late, the inclinations of their children, and that also 
 in the mildest manner, as circumstances might re- 
 quire. But that, from the instances which had been 
 before them in conversation, a similarity of dispo- 
 sition above all things should be first sought for, yqt 
 not with rigid exactness. A good man may be over- 
 generous : can he do better for himself than to seek 
 for a partner who is frugal and attentive, without 
 being covetous and mean ? Should another be hasty 
 and rapid ; what can he do better than to unite him- 
 self to one who is dispassionate and calm ? And if the 
 young woman has an unhappy tendency to that 
 which may be frivolous and indiscreet, who knows 
 but that she may be much corrected, should she meet 
 with the man who mav be cautious and reserved ? 
 In short, that it is not so much the dispositions them- 
 selves as their evil tendency, through the corruption 
 of mankind, against which we should be put upon 
 our guard ; as it was evidently not the disposition it- 
 self, but that disposition, being under a corrupted 
 influence, which was the cause of every calamity that 
 had been the subject of their present conversation. 
 
 Mr. Lovegood also mentioned, that a little equa- 
 lity, as it respected money matters, might not bean 
 improper consideration, as this too often creates the 
 most unpleasant reflections and disputes. And last 
 of all, as being ultimately of the least consequence, 
 respecting age, he observed, though many inconve- 
 niences from that quarter arise from such inconsi- 
 derate unions, yet that it was beyond a doubt, a 
 variety of old and young fools, at least somewhat 
 like it, good-natured creatures, have lived very hap- 
 py with each other. 
 
 Mr. Lovegood lastly urged some very impressive 
 id :• s respectiiig the sad perturbation of mind, cre- 
 ated among all those ok every rank, whose tempers 
 
341 
 
 were completely contrary to the holy mind of Christ. 
 That even heaven itself would bear a semblance of 
 hell, could such minds surround the holy throne 
 above : perfect holiness and infinite happiness are 
 inseparably united. 
 
 Thus Mr. Lovegood went on well. So also my 
 young readers would determine, had I time further 
 to transcribe his wise and good advice ; for their 
 sakes so much is presented before them on this 
 most important subject. There is something very 
 engaging in the undisguised simplicity of unpolluted 
 youth. Oh, that my dear young friends had the ad- 
 vice of a Lovegood always sounding in their ears ; 
 and the like grace, which is the delightful theme of ■ 
 his preaching, constantly dwelling in their hearts ! 
 Such will not only be graciously protected from 
 the evils of life, but as mercifully directed into every 
 path that is wise and good. And under such regu- 
 lations, how happy shall I be without fee or reward, 
 so far as I can gain the permission of the Dolittles of 
 the day, (while a denial from theLovegoods is scarce- 
 ly to be apprehended,) to tie the bond of union that 
 makes the parties so happy in each other. 
 
 The kind public, it seems, have been frequently 
 inquisitive to know when the concluding dialogue 
 would be laid before them. It will, however, appear 
 that events could not -be related till time had brought 
 them into existence ; there were several marriages to 
 be brought forward : but wise people know better 
 than to " marry in haste, lest they should have to 
 repent at leisure. 5 ' 
 
 The writer also had some further designs to have 
 exposed the folly of those professors of Christianity, 
 who are still living in conformity to the world. lie 
 
 Vol. II. G g 
 
342 
 
 had once likewise thought to have entered more se- 
 riously into the subject of divine influences, so as to 
 guard that holy doctrine from the ridiculous inter- 
 pretation of the enthusiast ; and yet to vindicate the 
 same divine truth from the infidel objections of the 
 empty speculatist of the day ; but as, upon recollec- 
 tion, these subjects have been so much interwoven 
 with the dialogues at large, and finding that the pub- 
 lication has already swollen far beyond the original 
 design, it was determined that a further investigation 
 of these : ubjects might too much clog the work, 
 which had brevity for its main design. 
 
 Nor yet would the reader have had the melancholy 
 subject of the invaluable Mr. Merryman's death, 
 for the closing dialogue, had it not brightened before 
 it concluded with the happy prospect, that a mini- 
 ster, like minded with'Mr. Merry man, will still be 
 established at Sandover, 
 
343 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXV. 
 
 *4t* 
 
 BETWEEN MR. HONEST AND FAMILY, SHOP- 
 KEEPERS IN SANDOVER, MR. AND AIRS. RHY- 
 MER OF THE SAME PLACE; AND MR. INQUI- 
 SITIVE, A MANCHESTER RIDER. 
 
 SAD TIDINGS FROM SANDOVER, OCCASIONED BY THE 
 DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 
 
 AFTER the necessary orders of the shop were 
 settled, Mr. Inquisitve requested Mr. Honest 
 would come and take a supper with him at the inn ; 
 but as that house was ill conducted, being patroni- 
 zed by 'Squire Wild, in opposition to Mr. Merry- 
 man, Mr. Honest excused himself, and requested that 
 Mr. Inquisitive would rather come and take a cup 
 of tea with him ; and, as that would best suit his 
 family engagements, the invitation was accordingly 
 accepted. 
 
 Mr. Inquis. How do you do, sir ? I am come ac- 
 cording to appointment, but I aift sorry to sec your- 
 self and so many of your friends all in mourning ; I 
 am afraid there has been a sad mortality in the 
 place. 
 
 Mr. Hon. Oh, no sir, we are all pretty well ; but 
 we are in deep mourning indeed for our minister, 
 who was buried about a fortnight ago. 
 
 Inquis. What, is it the custom about these parts 
 for people to go into mourning for their ministers? I 
 never heard of such a custom in other places. 
 
344 
 
 Hon. Perhaps not, sir; but out of respect to one 
 we ; I c mired and loved, the whole parish almost, 
 that could afford it, have thought proper to put on 
 mourning. To be sure, he was one of the best 
 young men that ever lived upon the earth. 
 
 Inquis. Well, I could not have thought that you 
 should all distress yourselves so much on that score ; 
 no doubt but that you will soon get another clergy- 
 man in his place. 
 
 Hon. O yes, sir, we are sure to have a minister, 
 while he is to have the tithes ; but it is not every 
 minister who will suit us after that most excellent 
 creature, who is now no more. 
 
 Inquis. Oh, but you should all keep up your spi- 
 rits, though I confess too many of the clergy are no 
 better than they should be, yet others of them are 
 very moral and sober; and perhaps the minister who 
 succeeds him, may be a virtuous man also, and mind 
 his duty, as well as the good gentleman you have 
 lately lost. 
 
 Hon. Ah, sir, but we shall think ourselves ill 
 suited, if we have one who has nothing further than 
 the decency of a moral Heathen : we want the man 
 who is blessed with the spirituality of the real Chris- 
 tian, and who, consequently, is given up to the love 
 and service of God ; and who wishes " to spend and 
 be spent for Jesus Christ." 
 
 Inquis. Why, sir, the people in our parts are sel- 
 dom so strict about their ministers. 
 
 Robert, the son of Mr. Honest Such a minister as 
 we have lost, may not be esteemed as a loss among 
 those who have never felt the worth of religion on 
 their own hearts ; I am sure it was so with me. Till 
 it pleased God to convert our late minister, I lived 
 an unconverted Heathen myself; my father knows, 
 to his cost, what a wretched turn of mind I was 
 ^kelv to take. 
 
4 345 
 
 Inquis. Converted ! Was it possible that he could 
 be a clergyman and not a Christian? and I thought 
 you and your whole family were all bred up. in the 
 same religion. 
 
 Hon. He was a fine Christian truly ; nothing bet- 
 ter than a sort of a good natured madman, running 
 after all kinds of nonsense and fooleries ; making the 
 parish, if possible, ten times worse than he found it. 
 If his head did not want to be converted to Chris- 
 tianity, I am sure his heart stood in sad need of be- 
 ing converted from its wickedness ; and it is poor 
 work to talk of Christianity, while many of us are as 
 bad as Heathens, and others even worse. 
 
 Inquis. Oh, that is what you mean by conversion. 
 I thought you meant he had changed his religion ; 
 but I confess yours is a better notion of conversion 
 than mine. 
 
 Hon. But how can people who have no religion, 
 change their religion ? I never thought that either 
 my son or our minister had any religion, when both 
 of them were half mad for th6 want of it. 
 
 Inquis. Really, sir, what you say seems to interest 
 me so much, that I should like to hear some further 
 particulars about the young minister, whose death is 
 so, universally lamented. I cannot account for the 
 difference ; but, from my childhood I have been in- 
 quisitive after truth. I once read the history of all 
 religions, till I was quite tired of reading about their 
 nonsensical ceremonies and forms ; religion must be 
 something better than all that. 
 
 Hon. Oh, sir, had you known that invaluable 
 young minister, you would have perceived that there 
 is a difference when- the grace of God takes possession 
 of the heart ; and in him the difference was so truly 
 great and glorious, that it was to the admiration and 
 astonishment of all. The last minister we had, who 
 was only sent to die among; us, old Mr. Mumble, 
 
 Gg 2 
 
lived like a stupid log ; and when he died, though 
 the form was huddled over him, yet there was such 
 a degree of indifference among all who attended, 
 that it appeared to me as though he was " buried 
 with the burial of an ass." 
 
 Inquis. Then it seems you had no great loss of 
 him. 
 
 Hon. He was a mere piece of church lumber. But 
 oh, what a difference took place in the parish, as soon 
 as Mr. Merryman became a Christian indeed ! 
 
 Inquis, How long has he been your minister ? 
 
 Hon. About seven years. And at first when he 
 came into the parish, I thought he Mould have made 
 my son as wild and giddy as himself. 
 
 Rob. According to all human probability he would 
 have ruined me, if God, by his grace and mercy, 
 had not saved him ; though it was not two years after 
 he first came, before he proved himself to be an al- 
 tered man indeed. And it struck me, when he would 
 be seriously dissuading me against those very evils 
 which had been all his delight, that such a won- 
 der ful change could never be accomplished but by 
 God alone. 
 
 Inquis. I never thought about religion in this way 
 before ; I should like to hear more of your minister, 
 and how he went on. 
 
 Rob. Dear man ! as soon as he saw the evil of his 
 ways, he would get up in the pulpit and weep over 
 us, on account of the bad example he had set before 
 us ; and pray and beseech us in such a tender and 
 affectionate manner, that he won all our hearts be- 
 fore w r e well knew where we were. 
 
 Hon. (To his son.) Ah ! my dear child, I have as 
 much reason to bless God for him as yourself; for 
 though I have been kept from being wild and wicked, 
 and have been just in my dealings between man 
 and man, yet till it pleased God to convert dear Mr. 
 
34r 
 
 Merryman to the Christianity of the Bible, I was as 
 ignorant of the grace and power of real religion as a 
 mere Heathen. 
 
 Inquis. Well, it is a great blessing that your minis- 
 ter could persuade you to reform. 
 
 Rob. I have no reason to believe, that the reforma- 
 tion of my manners would ever have taken place, if 
 it had not been for the renewal of my heart. But 
 of that doctrine I fear the generality of us were en- 
 tirely ignorant, till the meaning of it had been ex- 
 emplified to us, by the life and preaching of dear 
 Mr. Merryman. Oh, how he would stand and ex- 
 hort us, and persuade .and intreatus, with ail ferven- 
 cy of spirit, " yearning over us in the bowels of 
 Jesus Christ," that we might be reconciled to God, 
 and find for ourselves the power of that salvation, by 
 which a change so gloi ious had been made upon his 
 own heart ! But that most dear and precious servant 
 of God is now no more ! [Poor Robert is quite over- 
 come, and weeps abundantly, while all the family 
 mingle with him their sympathetic tears.~\ 
 
 Inquis. Well, I am very sorry for you all ; I don't 
 wonder now, thai you put on mourning. 
 
 Rob. As to myself, I have lost the sweetest com- 
 panion I ever met with, and I suppose, ever shall in 
 all my life ; though we were companions in the 
 times of our ignorance, yet we never knew what the 
 real sweets of friendship were, till after we were 
 blessed with the grace of God in our hearts. 
 
 Hon. My son and he were like two brothers. Oh, 
 how it used to delight us to see him come into our 
 house ! his disposition was so sweet, and all his ways 
 were so engaging and kind. 
 
 Rob. (To Mr. Inquisitive.) Yes, sir, I have known 
 him in my life, I knew him in death ; and ever since 
 he has had any thing which deserves the name of 
 Christianity, both in and out of the pulpit, he was 
 the Christian indeed, 
 
348 
 
 Hon. I am sure I could not love a chilc^of my own 
 better than I loved him. It is impossible to tell the 
 good he has been the instrument of doing to our fa- 
 mily, after he became an altered man : and what sweet 
 and edifying seasons we have passed in this room,, 
 where we now sit ! Either he would say something 
 good to us out of the Bible, or read us some profit- 
 able letters ; or select passages out of different good 
 books ; or tell us some good news about others of his 
 pai ishioners : nobody can tell how we feel the loss. 
 
 Inqnis. It seems he was but a young man ; how 
 came you to lose him ! 
 
 Rob. Dear man ! while a putrid fever raged in the 
 parish, he would go from house to house, and visit 
 the most dangerous cases ; attend among the most 
 abject of the poor with the greatest tenderness and 
 leve; and thus he caught the disorder: and though 
 he recovered of the fever, yet he died soon afterwards 
 of a rapid decline. 
 
 Hon. Our feelings have been all sharply exercised 
 by this event; he lay near a month in his fever, 
 while, for several days, we expected every hour to 
 be informed, of his death. Oh, how our minds were 
 racked between hope and fear, day after day. What 
 a season of constant anxiety and suspence! And 
 what a solemn gloom sat upon every countenance, 
 while, evening after evening, our serious neighbours 
 came into our house, to. pray for the preservation of 
 his precious life ! 
 
 Airs. Hon. I look upon it as a kind providence 
 which preserved the life of our son, who was with 
 him for a longer or a shorter time every day ; they 
 were so fond of each other ! 
 
 Rob. Well, mother, and I humbly trust those 
 visits will be a blessing to me, to the latest moments 
 of my life. But oh, what an affecting scene it was ! 
 Poor Mrs. Merryman had scarcely lain in with her 
 
349 
 
 first child a month, before she was called to nurse her 
 husband, while she had to nurse her child also. There 
 she would stand by his bed-side till her eyes began 
 to float in tears; and then, from the agitation of her 
 spirits, she would be obliged to retire. 
 
 Inquis. It seems they were a very happy pair. 
 
 Rob, Oh, sir, in their solid and affectionate regard 
 and attention to each other, their conduct was the 
 most exemplary that could be set before us. 
 
 Inquis, Your hopes and fears must have been 
 much more excited by the event of his first having 
 a fever, from which he recovered, in a measure, than 
 if he had been removed from you by a consumption 
 only. 
 
 Rob. A great deal ; but then he had an opportu- 
 nity of exemplifying more true Christian patience 
 and resignation; w T hereby he left such a testimony 
 behind him, as I trust we never shall forget; he w:as 
 so entirely resigned and given up to God. 
 
 Inquis. I suppose he must have been a man of 
 amazing fortitude. 
 
 Rob. What is generally understood by fortitude, 
 was not the principle by which he was supported ; 
 it was the animating cordial of the love of God upon 
 his heart, which so wonderfully upheld him in death : 
 though he was mostly in a stupor while he was in 
 his fever, yet what precious things, at intervals dropt 
 from his lips ! at all times manifesting that his mind 
 was kept in the most holy and submissive frame ! 
 And what was very remarkable, while he lay in this 
 stupor, he would sometimes speak as though he was 
 engaged in preaching to his congregation; and at 
 other times he seemed to suppose that he was pray- 
 ing with them : and what he said on these occasions 
 was astonishingly affecting and fine, even superior to 
 what he ever said in the best days of his health. 
 
 Hon. We may judge by this, while his bodily 
 
359 
 
 frame lay under such a stupor, yet his heart and 
 spirit were quite alive in the blessed work of his Lord 
 and Master ; and at intervals he would be perfecdy 
 recollected. 
 
 Rob. But during one of these intervals, oh, how 
 it affected me when visiting him a diy or two after, 
 I found him quite low and in tears ; and when I ask- 
 ed him what was the cause of it, he cried, " Oh, 
 what would I give could I recai the time when, as 
 a wicked and careless minister, both in my life and 
 doctrine, I was the cause of the ruin and delusion 
 of so many souls ! It was all my doing, that poor 
 Bob Trifier w T as invited to the ball, whereby he 
 caught the fever which carried him to the grave. 
 Though I doubt not that God has forgiven me, yet 
 I am ashamed to think how wicked I have been." 
 And when I began mentioning the good he had 
 done since he had been blessed with the grace of 
 God, and mentioned myself as one that would have 
 eternal reason to bless God for his ministry, he seem- 
 ed to smile, took me by the hand, and said, " Yes, 
 my dear Robert, and this is the only reason that 
 makes me wish, to live, that I may bring more sin- 
 ners to Jesus Christ." Then the gloom soon dispers- 
 ed, while he in general lay happy and composed. 
 
 Mrs. Hon. I shall never forget the night in which 
 I sat up with him, for we all took it by turns to nurse 
 the dear man, while many of us thought it would 
 be the last night of his life, with what wonderful 
 melody he broke forth and sang : 
 
 " The goodly land I see, 
 
 With peace and plenty blest, 
 A land of sacred liberty and endless rest 5 
 
 There milk and honey flow, 
 
 There oil and wine abound, 
 And trees of life for ever grow, 
 
 With mercy crown'd. 
 
351 
 
 ** There dwells the Lord our King;, 
 
 The Lord our righteousness, 
 Triumphant o'er the world and sin: 
 
 The Prince of Peace, 
 
 On S ion's sacred height, 
 
 His kingdom still maintains t 
 And, glorious with his saints in light, 
 
 For ever reigns. 1 ' 
 
 While he thus lay, I thought I would not inter- 
 rupt him. He soon broke out again, as though he 
 had forgot himself, and then cried, " When will 
 my dearest Saviour come?" and then he again 
 sang with greater rapture still : 
 
 " He by hfmself hath sworn, 
 
 I on his oath depend ; 
 I shall, on eagles' wings upborne, 
 
 To heav'n ascend. 
 
 I shall behold his face, 
 
 I shall his pow'r adore ; 
 And sing the wonders of his grace, 
 For evermore." 
 
 While he was thus singing,, I went up to his bed- 
 side. He caught my eye, and said, " Oh, Mrs. Ho- 
 nest, what made you pull me down? what made you 
 pull me down ? I thought I was going up into glory, 
 with thousands of singing spirits with me, and was 
 singing with them ; and that somehow my soul was 
 all full of singing and praise, for the redeeming love 
 of Christ." Soon after this, he seemed to be going 
 quite off, as he lay without recollection for several 
 hours. During that time, the report was circulated 
 that he was actually- dead ; and no one can tell the 
 feelings of the people on the occasion. The next 
 day, however, contrary to all expectation, he revi- 
 ved ; and appeared, by slow degrees, to be upon 
 the recovery. 
 
 Hon. And he was so far recovered as to be able to 
 attend the duties of the church for four Sabbaths. 
 Oh, how delighted we all were to see him again. 
 
352 
 
 though in great weakness, staggering abroad, for 
 a little -air and exercise, in hopes that his strength 
 would be fully restored. And when his father-in- 
 law, Mr. Worthy, who had frequently been to see 
 him, sent his chaise for his use, that he might enjoy 
 the benefit of the air and moderate exercise ; how 
 every body was blessing God to see him yet alive 
 with us! he smiling again upon his affectionate 
 friends and neighbours, while they beheld him as 
 one risen from the dead. 
 
 Rob. After this you know he and Mrs. Merry- 
 man went and passed a week at Mr. Worthy's ; and 
 upon his return he appeared somewhat recruited, 
 though very weak ; and the Sundy after that he 
 preached for the first time after his illness. Oh, 
 what uncommon joy we all felt on that occasion, 
 while every hand and heart war: lifted up in thank- 
 fulness for the mercy \ For, though he was led up 
 the aisle with much weakness, yet we lived in hopes 
 that his health would be restored. What a sermon 
 he gave us from these words, " My soul is even as 
 a weaned child:" and in what an affectionate spirit 
 he addressed us, while he told the feelings of his 
 own mind during his sickness ; hoping that the so- 
 lemn warning he had received might quicken his 
 zeal, that he might be enabled with greater earnest- 
 ness to entreat us, in Christ's stead, to be reconciled 
 to God. In short, the affectionate spirit, in which 
 he addressed us, was too much for himself and all 
 his congregation. 
 
 Hon. From that very sermon I thought there was 
 too much of heaven in him to live long upon earth ; 
 and, from the first, I had my forebodings, lest the 
 cough, which interrupted him during the service, 
 might settle on his lungs. 
 
 Rob. Why, on the Sunday afterwards, he seemed 
 to revive our hopes that he might recover, though 
 his cough certainly continued. 
 
353 
 
 Hon. But on the Sunday after that, you know, my 
 dear, how much our fears were excited by the in- 
 crease of his cough, and its terrible hollow sound, 
 by which we were all again so universally alarmed ; 
 our hopes now began to sink faster than they were 
 formerly raised. 
 
 Inquis. No wonder at it ; for you could have no 
 hopes of his recovery from a consumption ; but it is 
 a pity he did not take more care of himself, and ab- 
 stain from preaching. 
 
 Hon. Sir, it was his design to have lain by for the 
 recovery of his health ; and Mr. Worthy had written 
 to Mr. Brightman, an excellent young man, belong- 
 ing to one of the Universities, to come and supply 
 for him ; but as Mr. Brightman* could not come so 
 soon as he was desired, especially as he could not get 
 another acceptable supply, the dear man was deter- 
 mined to attempt to preach on the Sunday follow- 
 ing. 
 
 Inquis. Surely he was too anxious to preach while 
 in so weak a state. x 
 
 Mob. Sir, his anxiety to preach was so strong, that 
 there was no keeping him out of the pulpit ; all the 
 time he was ill, his desire to return again to his 
 delightful work was ardent and perpetual. But, 
 alas ! the following Sunday was the last we ever en- 
 joyed with him. 
 
 Inquis. Could you have foreseen that this would 
 have been his last sermon, it would have rendered 
 it a most affecting sermon indeed. 
 
 Hon. Oh, sir, as we knew he meant to remove to 
 Brookfield for the recovery of his health, we had our 
 strong forebodings that it would be the last time we 
 ever should see him in the pulpit; and the church 
 
 * This Mr. Brightman is a very near relation to the Mr. Brightman 
 mentioned in Dialogue IV th. 
 
 Vol. II. H h 
 
 i 
 
354 
 
 ■ 
 
 was so crowded — I never saw such a scene in all my 
 life ! — {He is too much affected to continue.) 
 
 Rob. And after Mr. Sedate, Dr. Orderly's curate, 
 had read prayers, (for both the good doctor and his 
 curate Mere remarkably attentive to our dear minis- 
 ter, during his illness,) he got up to preach, and his 
 appearance alarmed us more than ever. What a 
 text he took, and how we were all struck at his de- 
 livery of it ! 
 
 Inquis. What was the text ? 
 
 Mob. <k Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
 have entered into the heart of man, the things which 
 God hath prepared for them that love him." How 
 he described the glories of the eternal ^Vorld, our 
 perfect deliverance from sin, and our everlasting en- 
 joyment of God! with what rapture he mentioned 
 those words, in thy presence is fulness of joy, and at 
 thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore! 
 how he begged and intreated us as for his life to ac- 
 cept these unutterable joys, and to fly from the 
 wrath to come, as it was, probably, the last ex- 
 hortation we might ever receive from his lips, that 
 might so soon be closed in death. His very soul was 
 so deeply engaged in the subject, that he could not 
 speak without a tear, while the hearts of all the peo- 
 ple were melted down as the heart of one man. The 
 dear man had not addressed us above fifteen minutes, 
 when he was so overcome by his own feelings, and 
 the heat of the church, through the excessive crowd, 
 that he quite fainted away. What a scene we saw 
 when he was earned from that pulpit, from v. hence 
 we had received such an abundance of good ! I be- 
 lieve this astonishing young spiritual Sampson slew 
 more by these his loving strokes at his death, than 
 ever he sitw throughout all his life ; but his poor body 
 fell undei these exertions. 
 
 Hon. 1 rather thought from the first that it was a 
 
confirmed consumption. You know he never stood 
 long in the pulpit; not above half his usual time: 
 nor yet was he able to exert himself as formerly, 
 though he preached so d< Lilly, But on the 
 
 Tuesday following, after a severe fit c/f coughing, he 
 burst a blood-vessel, and then we began entirely to 
 sdve him over. And, you know, two davs after this 
 Mr, Worthy sent for him and his wife, who was obli- 
 ged, through gilt:/, to part with the dear infant, to 
 bang upon the breast of another woman, who was not 
 its mother, in order that she might devote he utmost 
 care to her dying husband, through the last stages of 
 his disease. And oh, what an abundance of tears 
 were shed while they thus passed through our village 
 to Brookfield H all : all of us concluding that we should 
 never see him again, who was so much beloved and 
 respected by us! 
 
 Rob. You know, father, I went to visit him seve- 
 ral times when he was at Brookfield; and, I bless 
 God, I did. What patience and resignation he show- 
 ed throughout the whole of his sickness! He would 
 say, that Goa had given him every earthly enjoy- 
 ment that his heart could wish; that it would be hard 
 parting with such an affectionate wife, and his new 
 born babe, and a congregation that he loved as his 
 own soul; but that he now could give them all up. 
 That he only had to breathe out his soul into the 
 hands of God, saying, " Thy kingdom come; thy 
 will be done." 
 
 Hon. Perhaps Mr. Inquisitive would like to hear 
 what an affecting conversation took place between 
 Mr. Merry man and his father, who came to see him 
 at Brookfield before he died. 
 
 Rob. Mr. Merry man was greatly agitated as soon 
 as he heard his father designed to come and see him : 
 and the first interview was affecting indeed. The 
 father seeing his son, though lately a fine person- 
 
356 
 
 able young man, so reduced, at once melted into 
 tears, and cried, " Oh my child, I am sorry I did not 
 set you a better example when you was young, 
 as that may have been the cause of driving you 
 into this extreme in religion which has brought you 
 into your present state." Mr. Merry man cried, 
 " Oh my dear father, what a mercy that 1 was not the 
 cause of my own death, while living in the mad and 
 wild ways of sin. What consolation could 1 have 
 •obtained, if I had been in the like situation then, as 
 I am now ?" His father added : " But my dear child, 
 why did you run into danger by thus visiting the 
 sick ? 5 ' Mr. Merryman answered, " O my dear fa- 
 ther, duty called and I obeyed. I am sorry you should 
 grieve over one, who feels more joy and happiness 
 than words can express, adding, I have ' a hope full 
 of immortality : ' believing in that blessed Christ, 
 who has changed my heart, and pardoned all my 
 sins, I can ' rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full 
 of glory.' After this, though in extreme weakness 
 he addressed his father in the most affectionate man- 
 ner, assuring him that there was a reality in religion, 
 which he humbly intreated him to seek after, as the 
 greatest blessing that could be enjoyed in life, and 
 the only cordial that could support us when sinking 
 in the arms of death ; begging with many tears that 
 he would mention the same to his dear mother, while 
 he made it his last request that they would both seek 
 for the salvation of their souls. 
 
 Inquis. The father must have been much affected 
 at such an exhortation. 
 
 Rob. Very much so indeed, and they say a consi- 
 derable alteration has taken place in his conduct. 
 God grant it may be lasting ! 
 
 lion. I think you were with him the day before he 
 died. 
 
 Bob. Yes : and I never shall forget with what holy 
 
triumph he expressed himself, while all the family 
 stood weeping around his bed. "' Unto him that hath 
 loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own 
 blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God 
 and his Father ; to him be glory and dominion for 
 ever and ever! Amen." The last words I heard him 
 utter were, " Bless the Lord, O my soul," that by 
 faith I can say, with St. Stephen, 4 Behold I see the 
 heavens opened, and the Sou of Man standing at the 
 riffht-hand of God.' I shall soon be there." After 
 this I saw no more of him till he was brought back 
 in a hearse ; for it was his earnest desire to be buried 
 among us. 
 
 Inquis. I suppose, that the funeral of such a man 
 must have been a most solemn scene. 
 
 Hon. I don't think that in the memory of man 
 such a funeral was ever known in our parish before. 
 Almost all the inhabitants in our large village, who 
 could get themselves a little decent mourning, went 
 nearly two miles out of town to meet the hearse, that 
 they might follow him to the grave. You might 
 read the deepest grief upon every countenance. 
 . Rob. Why, father, how could it be otherwise, 
 when the cause of our grief was so universal ? Was 
 he not the kind father and instructor of every poor 
 man's child? Was he not the husband of every de- 
 jected widow 7 ? Was there a case of distress, that he 
 was not affectionately willing to attend to ? Was it 
 possible to have a minister more zealous and atten- 
 tive for the good of our souls ; more kind and friend- 
 ly as a neighbour, and more exemplary in every 
 point of view as an example to the flock oi Christy 
 which he fed with so much simplicity of wisdom and 
 spiritual understanding ! And when the funeral pro- 
 cession entered the church, surely a more solemn 
 scene was never exhibited \ Oh, could you hear but 
 half the stories of his merciful attention to human 
 
 Hh& 
 
 § 
 
358 
 
 wbe, you would never have been astonished at the 
 people's affection. But what made the scene by far 
 more affecting was, that dear Mr. Lcvegood, who 
 was the instrument in the hand of God to bring him 
 to the know ledge of the powerful truths of the Gos- 
 pel, had to lay him in the grave. He was so affected, 
 that after several attempts he could not proceed. At 
 length Mr. Brightman, who was sent for to supply 
 for Mr. Merryman, was obliged to perform that of- 
 fice; and while they were preparing to put the corpse 
 into the grave, it was designed, that the children of 
 the Sunday School should sing a solemn funeral 
 hymn ; but instead of singing, recollecting the dear 
 friend and instructor they had last, they -all burst 
 into tears, and wept aloud over his grave. 
 
 Inquis. How could you all stend such a moving 
 sight ? 
 
 Bob. Alas ! the tears of the poor children affected 
 us all in such a manner, that there was scarcely a 
 dry eye in the place. 
 
 Shopman. Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Rhymerareintheshop. 
 
 Mrs. Hon. [To her husband.) Do, my dear, step 
 out and invite them in. {To Mr. Inquisitive.) Sir, 
 they are only two of our neighbours. The gentle- 
 man is a respectable tanner. Poor things, their 
 hearts are as much broken dow T n as ours, on account 
 of our loss. \_Mr. and Mrs. Rhymer come in and 
 the conversation recommences. ~\ 
 
 Hon. Sir, we were lamenting before this gentle- 
 man, who is a rider from Manchester, our sad loss 
 in cur minister ; he wondered to find us all in 
 mourning ; and we have told him the cause of it. 
 
 Inquis. Why really, sir, having been so much 
 engaged in business, and in riding about from place 
 to place for orders, I fear I have never thought of 
 these things as I ought. I hope that the cause oi your 
 grief will do me good, and lead me to consider mat- 
 ters more attentively. 
 
359 
 
 Rob. I pray God, it may ! I hope still that his 
 death may be the life of many ; for even the very 
 enemies of religion so greatly admired his character, 
 that they never speak of him but in terms of the high- 
 est respect. And now they join with us in lamenting 
 the loss of him exceedingly. 
 
 Rhym. But, sir, I am come to tell you who is to 
 be our new rector. 
 
 Hon. I fear we are in no hopes of having another 
 Mr. Merryman ; but who is it ? 
 
 Rhym. Sir, it is Mr. Tugwell ; he got it by being 
 the pot companion of Mr. Toper, who is nearly re- 
 lated to the patron. 
 
 Hon. Oh, that will be shocking. 
 
 Rhym. Not so shocking as you think for. 
 
 Hon. Why what good can we ever get from an 
 ignorant careless glutton ? 
 
 Rhym. Why that is the comfort of it, he is so 
 careiess, that, if he can but pamper his appetite, he 
 cares no more about religion, than that Heathen ma- 
 gistrate, Gallio, of old. I believe he thinks of no- 
 thing but about taking care of his body, and he says 
 the people may have who they like best to take care 
 of their souls for them ; for he knows that all the 
 people will run away from the church, and build 
 themselves another place, unless they have one of 
 Merryman* s way of thinking. 
 
 Rob. Oh, what a mercy it would be, if he would 
 but let Mr. Brightman be his curate ! He is a young 
 man of very great ability, and, I humbly trust, blessed 
 .with real Christianity. 
 
 Rhym: Well,.! am told from pretty good autho- 
 rity, that he will have no objection to Mr. Bright- 
 man's having the curacy, provided -he will be con- 
 tented with forty pounds a year ! — At the same time 
 he means to raise the tythes, that he may pay the 
 salary. 
 
360 
 
 Inqnis. A mean old glutton ! How does he think 
 that any one can live in these times for forty pounds 
 a year ? 
 
 Hon. Oh, well, never mind that, if we may but 
 have a minister among us who preaches and lives the 
 word of life. Should this be the case, what an unex- 
 pected blessing will be conferred upon us I 
 
 Rhym. Really, sir, I am happy to tell you, that it 
 is almost a settled business ; and my errand here this 
 evening, was to lay a plan, that Mr. Brightman may 
 be provided with some suitable support. 
 
 Rob. Blessed be God, this is the best news I have 
 heard since our dear minister died. Father, how 
 glad shall I be to work the harder, if you will but 
 subscribe to Mr. Brightman's support 
 
 Hon. I shall do it, my dear, with the utmost cheer- 
 fulness ; and blessed be God that I have somewhat to 
 spare for so good a cause ! 
 
 Rhym. It will be much less expence to us to pay 
 the curate, than build a place and provide a minister 
 for ourselves. Besides, none of us want to leave the 
 church, unless we are compelled to it, as thousands 
 are by the bad doctrine and conduct of some of its mi- 
 nisters : and I can tell you also, that Mr. Worthy of 
 Brookfield-hall means to subscribe ten guineas a year 
 towards Mr. Brightman's support, together with our- 
 selves. 
 
 Hon. What a generous heart he has got ! 
 
 Rhym. Oh, sir, we shall not want supporters, if 
 we can but keep the Gospel in the church. 
 
 Mrs. Hon. Well, well, we will dry up all our 
 tears notwithstanding cur heavy loss, should God 
 restore to us the enjoyment of those mercies, which 
 we have forfeited by our unprofitable attendance. 
 In the midst of judgment he has remembered mercy, 
 and we will praise his name* 
 
S61 
 
 The reader will be very thankful to hear that, soon 
 after Mr. Bright man became the curate of Sandover, 
 things wait on the same as when Mr. Merry man was . 
 their rector. Their new rector Tug well continued 
 no longer among them than was necessary for him- 
 sdlf, in raising the tythes, which were demanded 
 with great moderation b)^ the invaluable Mr. Merry- 
 man. Mr. Tugwell, however, to make up matters, 
 gave leave to his curate to add to the pittance of his 
 salary by raising his surplice fees. His maxim was 
 to get ail he could, and to give as little as he could : 
 as soon as he had raised the living upwards of another 
 good round hundred, that he might have more to 
 consume in good eating and drinking, away he 
 drove. 
 
 The friends of the late Mr. Merry man, however, 
 behaved with much more generosity than to leave 
 Mr. Brightman under the necessity of wringing the 
 money out of the poor people's pockets by the sur- 
 plice fees; while he, being a man of very lucid and 
 brilliant abilities, it is to be hoped, that he will be 
 kept as humble as he is able, and then the loss of 
 dear Mr. Merryman will be little felt, though, when- 
 ever recollected, much lamented. 
 
 Thus the reader has the conclusion of my drama- 
 tic attempts, and, if I may presume to anticipate, 
 what may be the general sentiments of the public, 
 I should suppose remarks similar to what follow may 
 be expressed : — 
 
 " This Mr. Lovegood isneither a.bigotted church- 
 man nor a friend to stiff dissenters ; he is neither 
 one thing nor -another, and for this, the rigid pro- 
 fessors, on both sides of the question, will give it the 
 author on both sides of Ms ears." This, however, 
 will be to him nothing more than the old thing over 
 again. 
 
362 
 
 " He has lashed, say some, the regular clergy with 
 
 the most contemptuous seventy." — Not the regular 
 clergy. — Look at their names and characters, and 
 say, for the credit of the church, Are these the regit* 
 lar clergy ? The regular clergy he has treated with 
 respect. 
 
 cc A wicked wretch ! he hates the church, and wants 
 to overturn it ! If it be not overturned by the above- 
 mentioned regular clergy, regularly wicked, it v ill 
 never be overturned by him. indeed! Indeed ! he 
 loves the church and wishes for its reformation. 
 
 " But we are sure he hates bitterly the state ; and 
 Mr. Spiteful and his comrades will prove the fact." 
 When he and his adherents * leave off abusing the 
 government, under which they are protected them- 
 selves, they will then be left at liberty to make good 
 their mad rind wanton charges against others as fast 
 as they can. 
 
 " He is at times much too jocular." — How was the 
 poor author to act under this charge ? Some have 
 ^privately advised a graver style, others have said, 
 " Let every man appear in his own dress," He onl/ 
 begs, that his kind critics would bear with him ; 
 \ for if, at one time, he has been too jocular, at 
 another time he has been too dull. 
 
 " He has been holding up the doctrine of faith 
 without works!" Strange assertion! let the reader 
 put on his spectacles, lor his sight cannot be clear, 
 and read again ; and then see, if the whole design of 
 the book be not to prove that real Christianity in- 
 spires holiness to God, devotedness to his glory, and 
 universal benevolence towards all mankind. — " But 
 he is certainly an advocate for the old free grace no- 
 ' tions of the reformers." — Yes, and let our modern 
 
 * The Anti-Jacobin Reviewers, who have done more by their inflam- 
 matory publications in kindling the present war than any other set of scrib- 
 blers besides. 
 
36o ' 
 
 reformers of the doctrines of the reformation prove, 
 that they have done more against all the wickedness 
 existing in this day, than these great men of God 
 did in their day against popery and its concomitant 
 evils ; and the point is given up. 
 
 " But what will that terrible literary phlalanx, the 
 Reviewers, say ?" Oh, that matter is easily settled ; 
 they, like wise men of Gotham, tell the World, even 
 by the title page of their books, under whose .service 
 they have registered their brains and pens ; the man 
 who minds them (I speak of them as a body) proves 
 he has no mind of his own ; and the greatest literary 
 amusement a man can have, if he has but time, is to 
 read their most curious contradictions of each other. 
 It appears, that a certain set of these reviewers has 
 already discovered, that the writer of these dialogues 
 is both a Solomon and a fool. If, however he may 
 be permitted to speak for himself, he has been writing 
 for no party — he wishes matters to stand as they are — 
 he is for the existence of an establishment, together 
 with a free toleration to all dissenters, under the pro- 
 tection of the most excellent constitution, on which 
 our government is framed — he is for no revolutions ; 
 as whatever corruptions may defile us, an excellent 
 platform for reformation is always before us. 
 
 May that blessing, which is from above, be upon 
 every reader, that whatever has been represented 
 •that is evil, may be detested and rejected : and, on 
 the contrary, may all that has been exhibited, which 
 is lovely, honest, and of good report, be the abun- 
 dant portion of every reader's heart. 
 
 FIJYIS, 
 
PHILADELPHIA, April 12, 1806. 
 
 W. W. WOODWARD, 
 
 NO. 52, CORNER OF SECOND AND CHESNUT-STREETS, 
 PHILADELPHIA, 
 
 HAS published the Pocket Bible, and has them bonne 
 
 at twelve different prices. Scott's Commentary — Fol, H 
 
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 IF. W. IF. has issued Proposals for supplying Subscri- 
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