AN 
 
 ANTIDOTE 
 
 MISERIES OF HUMAN LIFE, 
 
 HISTORY OF THE WIDOW PLACID, 
 
 HER DAUGHTKR n.WlirL. 
 
 " Bear up a wliile, 
 
 And what your bounded view, which onl^' saw 
 A liille pari, deeni'd evil, is iiu more." 
 
 TliOMSO v. 
 
 <Sf)C ^auyth aS&ition. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Pnntcd by Toansend 4 0/;,c!; Crane Court, 
 
 FOR WHLIAMS AND SMITH, SrATIO>y'l.Ks' COUlli, 
 PATERNOSTEH 15 OW. 
 
 1808. 
 
lOAN 
 
 staCS 
 
ADVERTISEMENT / JX^^ 
 
 TO THK 
 
 THIRD EDITION. f^m/^ 
 
 The Author cannot but feel flattered at the 
 favourable reception this little Work has 
 received from both the Literary and Religi- 
 ous World, and knows no better way of 
 expressing gratitude for this early call fur a 
 Second and Third Edition, than by endea- 
 vouring to improve it. With this view the 
 remarks of friendly criticism have been lis- 
 tened to with attention^ and the Author's 
 thanks are particularly due to the kind 
 suggestions of a Friend v^ho chose to be 
 anonvmous. 
 
 4^7 
 
Extracts from the Prind/xd Rci'itni'S of this Ifork. 
 
 " \VK M'ish that tlie celebrity of Mr. Bcn-sfonl's public ation. (' The Mise- 
 rie» of IJiiiii.i!! I.ifi",") iray lend to procure for the present the w icie circulati.n 
 which tt iloscrvL's; and that the seasonable impruvennent whi.li our fair au- 
 tlicr has made iif [luman mistrie?, may prevent an abuse of that ingcnioiij 
 wm 1(." — £c/f<f(i' lii'iiew. 
 
 " While all tlie iiri/ceditig writtrs (authors of Mis'-rlc"!. More Miseries, Ac.) 
 hive prosocu;c(i the subject ol " .Miseries" witli aitempts at wit and plea- 
 santry, thii author entieavunrs lo !;ive a serious turn to the whole dlscussioPi 
 and ti) provi', in an appropriate tale, that practical religion is the only Anli- 
 tlute to " the ileal, iniiuv, and real miseries of life." — Tlie siilviect is well 
 illustiated in a conversaiiun wiih the widow I'laci i (a Q.uaker^ a. id oilier pas- 
 tengers in a stage-coach: and ihe fashionable aflec'tation of calling surh inci» 
 dents as bre.riin^ a shoe-sliing, or lo.sin? a b'ltion, a //(/si'/i/. is ])rop,erly ex- 
 posed. The moral from the whole is, liiat true Religion «ill make vis all 
 liai)py in a miserable world, a doctrine as important as it is true, and which 
 cannot be tdo m'.uh enforced. Mr. Beresford, as a CleiRvman, wiU prol\ibIy 
 jiot be sorry to tii-ri Ins frivolities thus •seriously terminated, and his Sensitive 
 and Testy made to vicld to the amiably palieni, and christianly pious, Mrs. 
 V].ia'i."~.\Jviit/itjKcticu.; Kuv. J 807. 
 
 "This defect (the want of just sentiment) in Mr. Reresford's work, probably 
 sug^estfd to the author of this little volume his leading idea, which is to shew 
 that rclisioti is the grand, th.e only Anlidolc to Iviman A/(«v_v, talrainji 
 aud svveeteiiin:; the mind, rendering it superior to all the evils, great and 
 small, which chequer the path of life.— The tale iiself is told in a manner suf- 
 ficiently interesting. We extract the following passage as a fair specimen of 
 the authoi's manner, and as an inducement to the younger p.in c: our read- 
 ers to peruse the wliole, which we think they cannot do wiiiiout pleasure aud 
 jiujirovcinent." [^Ilere follows a very long quotation.] 
 
 Chrutiaji OOicrver, Align, t 1S07. 
 
 " The readers of this performance will find a deal of humour rn it, but it Is 
 of the most innocent kind; and it would he uncandid not to say, iliai iis 
 leading design is to suggest the most important truths, in a most itiotTen.sive 
 
 and i'.ivitin;; manner Wo dtirur a little on the propriety of maKin; a t^u.i- 
 
 ker laciy so profoundly wise, so triil; liberal in iier seiiiiiiienis. or so very 
 eommunicaiive, when aseholar and an autlior are present. Such a iharacler 
 is a »-«/n fii ii- indeed ; but the oilier characters are iialiiral enough, and well 
 suiiporiei lhiou;;hout; anil we tlkink the autlior has taken a most a;;reeable 
 wav of convincing hi.s readers, that there is, in vital reli^jion, '• An iinlidvtc 
 to every /««tvy whkli cm fall to ftielot of IftJitltii nature. "- 
 
 £.vuii. Mnj^.Jutii Ib07 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER r. 
 
 r 
 
 iNTRODUCTfON. T!ie bdi.iviour of a fine lady, and 
 a country 'sfjuire's iiiocJe of salutation to a finegeiUleiu;;n. 
 A book-keeper's mistake, and a short dialogue in con- 
 "^equence. Matters accommodated, and Mrs. Placid 
 and her datighter Rachel admitted into the stage-coach, 
 the scene of action for each person concerned in tl:e nar- 
 rative. A criticism upon new plays and fashionable 
 publications. Mrs. Placid astonished by an observation 
 dropped by Miss Finakin on the subject of Misery .. ..1—10 
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 The eyeof a scholar attracted by a new book, and the party 
 interested by its contents. Tiie 'squire's opinion of 
 Latin quoiatioiis. Mrs. Placid makes a sudden transi. 
 tmn from a gay to a grave subject. The effect produced. 
 A . address to the reader. .-\Iis. Placid proposes to re- 
 late the history of her life, and Miss Finakin composes 
 iicrself to sleep ., Il— 'S 
 
 CIIAPlXPv I[f. 
 Miss Finakin awake, and talking of misery. All p^iriLs 
 busily engaged. Mrs. Placid's treatment of an iusoleut 
 coachman. The 'squire prefers an inside place with 
 the ladies to an outside seat with a smart captain. Mrs. 
 Placid proceeds with her history. The 'squire's opi- 
 ::!on of the doctrine of good works, and the duties of u 
 
VI COiNTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 wife. An interesting point of controversy briefly ilii- 
 cussed. A shower of ruin ; and an addition made to 
 the party in consequence £6 — 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A dissertation on tlu> art of conversation. Tlie 'squire 
 makes an offer to tlie widow Placid, who gives her opi- 
 nion npon scandal. The captain discovers a new mi- 
 sery, iind utters :t groan on the occasion, 'i'he bcliular 
 offers a hint upon education, which rouses the cap- 
 tain's poeliciil genius. iMrs. Placid deci'ies the coutru- 
 versy. A frolic in liigh style irotn tlie captain cun- 
 eludes the chapter 36—46 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Mrs. Placid evinces her attachment to one of King 
 Charles's rules. The captain declares the motive of his 
 actions, and Miss Fiiiakin whispers her sentiments. 
 Mrs. Placid makes some of the company smile, and her 
 daughter meets with an einbarra.ssment. The scholar 
 talks of amiable weaknesses, and Mrs. Placid explains 
 their nature. A pointed question adthesbcd to Mim 
 I'lnakin. A few compliments between the widow and 
 the couutry-getitlemau 46 — 5c 
 
 CHAPTER vr. 
 
 Mrs. Placid resumes her history. An apostrophe to the 
 niemnry of a beloved mother. The 'squire's plan of 
 cducaiiiiii tor a tradesman. JMrs. P. acid's plan lor 
 ^itto. The icinjlar'-- illiberality, and the widow's can- 
 dour, on a question of character. Tiie sort of cheat 
 which the cuuiitry-yeutlouian would not prosecute. 
 Miss Fiiiakiu much disturbed in mind, and oppressed 
 in bod\, by a very common incident ii» travelling. 
 The feelings of the gentle lladiel cxcrcistd in no conj- 
 iiioii. degree. SJie declares licrseif lui^e^abic 67 — 07 
 
CONTENTS. Vii 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mrs. Placid's liistory conlinucd. Miss Fiiial<in repnirs to ^ 
 her salts in consequence of the weakness of her nerves. 
 iihe receives an afiVont, and an apology. Mrs. Placid 
 ^ives her opinion on christian experiences at the hour of 
 death. She declares herself to be no Stoic. The 'squire 
 pronounces npon the proper time and place for ladies to 
 speak. The scholar makes a pointed appeal on the 
 same subject to Mrs. Placid. She is seized with a mys- 
 terious deafness; but, we are happy to say, recovers 
 sufficiently to proceed with her narrative 68—80 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ,Mis. Placid's zeal for the doctrines of the gospel draws 
 some controversial observations from the 'squire. The 
 young scholar, a divine elect, appealed to. He an- 
 swers in character. A good tempered man affronted. 
 The dispute adjusted, and good humour again restor- 
 ed. The 'squire's attention diverted from the widow's 
 story, by the only circumstance wliich could have ef- 
 fected it. New means of quieting the remonstrances of 
 conscience. The interest of the brute creation pleaded 
 for by the ladies. A mysterious, death, with the com- 
 ments of a loquacious landlord 81 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The 'squire supposes Mrs. Placid mistaken in a most im- 
 portant opinion. He grows captious, and finds fault 
 with her conduct as well as sentiments. She conde- 
 scends to explain. The motto of a maiden aunt, and 
 a. short exhortation addressed to Rachel. Mrs. Placid 
 pleads for an important branch of practical Christianity. 
 The 'squire avows his attachment to the church of 
 England. A prayer-book produced, to the surprise of 
 Miss Finakin. The widow appeals to scripture, and 
 talks a little about creeds and articles, but attention is 
 
VJU « OMTKNTS, 
 
 P.,ge 
 
 diycrlcd to u inore inlcrcsting theme. A paiiU of vib'it- 
 ing cli(iueiie deterniiiied ;it ihc conclusion of the 
 chajtter 94—103 
 
 CHAPILR X. 
 
 Jlrs. PJacid's liisiory concluded. The s^inpatlictic feel- 
 ings of her hearers described. Tlic scholar insists upon 
 Jlrs. I'lacid's defining the word Misery. Ti\e 'squire 
 is made impatient hy the dulness of the scholar, and 
 decides (he argument. ]\Iiss Finakin's carefulness fcir 
 her nepiiew, liie cajitain. Jle is admitted fur the se- 
 cond lime as an inside passenger, on condition of good 
 behaviour J04 — 114 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 An effect ])r()duced by evening sliaduws regretted by one 
 person in company. The captain addresses the fair Ra- 
 chel in an appropriate speech. I\lrs. Placid answers 
 for her. 'J'iie word IJniz briefly considered, and a few 
 sj>eciniens given of the Quizzing art. A political con- 
 versation. iiT which all parties deliver one sentiment. 
 The cuplain and Miss Finakin arrive at their journey's 
 end, Mrs. Placid proi. ounces u])on n!i object 6i' mi- 
 sery. A happy mother and an amiable son. An action 
 of true gallantry 115 — 12.S 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Tlie arrival of a stranger — his adventure in liis wi;y to \ht 
 inn from «hicl\ his business was to conduct Mrs. Placid. 
 An unexpected discovery, and a resolution formed by 
 Mr.s. Placid. A deeply-regretted farewell takes place. 
 Society pronounced necessary to happiness. Tlie un- 
 speakable blessings conferred on man in the gilt of the 
 gospel , ... \'26 — 13^ 
 
ANTIDOTE, &c. 
 
 CiiAr. 1. — Introductiuii. The behaviour of a fine Lady, and ;» 
 Country 'Squire's mode of saluialion to a fine Geutleuian. A 
 book-keeper's mistake, and a short dialogue in consequence. 
 Matters acconinioduted, and Mrs. Placid and her daughter 
 Kaclicl admitted into the stage-coach, the scene of action for 
 each person concerned in liie narrative. A criticism upon new 
 plays, and fashionable publications. Mrs. Placid astonished 
 by an observation dropped by Miss Fiiiakin on the subject of 
 Misery. 
 
 IHE narrator of any history or adventure is 
 usually expected to give some account of liim- 
 self ; for who will credit his tale, unless they have 
 a siood opinion of his veracity? or respect his 
 judgment, without some evidence of his under- 
 standing ? What a disadvantage then do I labour 
 under, who have nothing to say of myself worthy 
 the attention of my reader! My history, like that 
 of many others, after fifty years' residence ia 
 this miserable world, may be comprised in almost 
 as few lines as those of the antediluvian patri- 
 nrchs. I was born on a small paternal estate, 
 married rather young, lived tolerably happy for 
 twenty years in domestic life, and was left a 
 widower, without son or daughter to cheer me 
 in my declining years. I am still a man of re- 
 JtJrcoient ; and, living independent of the world, 
 J? 
 
2 THE STAGE COACH. 
 
 seek in 3' happiness in my books, ray garden^ and 
 the society of" a small circle of neighbours and 
 acquaintances. As to my opinions, they may he 
 collected from the observations f shall occasion- 
 ally make; and as to my character, the most dis- 
 tinguishing trait I am aware of, is an extreme 
 taciturnity. In the following scenes, therefore^ I 
 shall rather be a spectator than a performer ; and 
 if the reader receives an}' instruction or amuse- 
 ment, it will be derived from the other parties. 
 
 Twice in the year I usually visit the metropolis, 
 to receive some rents and dividends, and to in- 
 quire after the health of a few old acquaintances. 
 In myjournies, I often meet with amusing occur- 
 rences; but, till my last return, never thought 
 any of sufficient interest to commit to paper. 
 
 It was a fine morning in September, just live 
 o'clock, when I entered the spacious room of the 
 White- Horse-Cellar, Piccadilly, to await the rea- 
 diness of a stage-coach, in which I had the day 
 before taken a place, in order to be conveyed 
 about ninety miles to my own habitation. I 
 had not been long seated, before a hackney-coach 
 drove up, from which alighted a smart-looking 
 young ofHcer, handing out a lady equ<illy smart 
 in her appearance; who, lightly tripping into the 
 inn, was almost instantly in the apartment with 
 mvself. A nearer survey convinced me tbat the- 
 ladv, whom, at the first glance, I supposed 
 to be ai)ont seventeen, was upwards of thiriy. 
 
THE PARTY FORMED. .^ 
 
 though the marks of maturity were judiciously 
 concealed by a juvenile dress, atid artificial co- 
 louring. The fair lady, without regarding my" 
 presence, threw herself into a chair, and ex- 
 claimed, " Heavens ! that we sliould be so horridly 
 early! Dear George, desire the coach-man to 
 hasten, or I shall absolutely fall asleep in this 
 hideous place, and all the powers on earth will 
 not be able to awaken tne I" — '' A new misery ! A 
 new misery!" replied the youth; "upon my ho- 
 nour, set that down."—" Who talks of misery r 
 vociferated a coarse voice close to the door, 
 '' who talks of misery in a fine September morn- 
 ing, any where but in London?" - Immediaieiv 
 entered a jolly middle-aged man, in boots and 
 buskins, with a whip in one hand; the other 
 being unoccupied, he presented to the young 
 officer, and with a loud smack, and a hearty- 
 shake, " Good morrow, captain," said he, " it 
 does me good to see you." 
 
 The young soldier looked as though he was 
 not much pleased with this salutation; and, for 
 myself, I congratulated my choice of a plain 
 brown, which secured me from all observation. 
 The coach-man now^ made his appearance, and 
 received a few hard words from the 'squire for his 
 delay, it being a quarter of an hour after the fixed 
 time for our departure. He said all was ready, 
 but there had been a little mistake about booking 
 a place ; and, pointing to a youth who had enter- 
 
4 A BOOK-KEEPERS MISTAKE. 
 
 ed uith hiin, " This gentleman/' said he, '^ oughi 
 not to have been booked ; but he lius, and he says 
 it is of great consequence that lie should go ; and 
 so, your honours," added the man, scratching his 
 head, to assist his contrivance, '^ 1 knows not 
 what is to be done about it." 
 
 '' To be done !" cried out the 'squire, " why 
 all to get in as fast as v^'e can ; possession is nine 
 points of the law, and let those that come battle 
 it out." So saying, he turned to the lady ; 
 " Come, madam," said he, " take the first place, 
 and I'll follow you in a moment." . The lady re- 
 monstrated against the misery, as she termed it, 
 of riding seven in a coach, and I felt much in- 
 clined to second her arguments; but ihe noisy 
 bustle of the 'squire would not permit us to be 
 heard. Taking the lady by the elbow, " Come," 
 said he, " you will not be cross and unaccommo- 
 dating; nothing sits so badly on a lady as ill- 
 buniour." So saying, he hurried her to the 
 coach, and all the rest of us followed. The man, 
 as bf shut the door, said he made no doubt but 
 that his other two passengers would be brought 
 round, for they were ytas and uuya. '* VV^hats 
 that?" said I, not taking his meaning. " O, 
 quack, quack, I suppose," replied the 'squire. 
 
 The youth now, in a pleasing style, regretted 
 the inconvenience he had. occasioned ; and the 
 lady said he ought to have relinquished his place, 
 as it was the last taken. *' Had i done so," saicj 
 
FASHIONABLE PEELINGS. 5 
 
 lie, " I should have caused a sleepless night to an 
 anxious mother, depending upon the sight of me 
 this evening, after an absence of three years." 
 
 "Is that your urgent business, sir?" replied 
 the officer; "ha! ha! a three month's residence 
 in the fashionable world would have lessened in 
 your view its importance : why, sir, you might 
 have amused yourself extremely well this evening 
 in London, and your kind mamma would have 
 received you with open arms to-morrow." 
 
 In the fashionable world then, thought I, is to 
 be found one of the crying sins of Jerusalem of 
 old, even of those who " set light by fiuher and 
 mother." 
 
 " Sir," rejoined the youth, '' I wish to continue 
 a stranger to the fashionable world, if an acquaint- 
 ance v/ith it is to be gained at the expense of 
 principle." 
 
 "Well said, my boy," answered the 'squire; 
 " as to fashion, there's no fashion comes up to a 
 good fox-chase, and a hearty dinner of English 
 roast beef and plum pudding." 
 
 The coach stopped at a small neat-lookiTi<T- 
 house at the entrance of Kensington. At the 
 door instantly ap[)earcd two female quakers, dress- 
 ed in the style peculiar to. their sect. " Mercy,, 
 what a couple of frights !" exclaimed our fine 
 lady, and threw herself back in the coach as if to 
 avoid another glance. The coach-man opened 
 the door. The elder quaker advanced,, and waa 
 
 33 3 
 
G AN ALTERCATION. 
 
 in the act of stepping in, when she drew back, and 
 addressing herself to the man, '* Thou hast al- 
 ready," said she, " five persons in thy coach, and 
 it is contrary to thy rules to admit seven." 
 " There has been a little mistake made, ma'am," 
 he replied, " in booking a place too many; but 
 the rest of the passengers have agreed not to mind 
 it, so 1 hopes you wont neither." 
 
 The young officer called out, " The damsel 
 shall sit on my knee." — " Friend," said the qua- 
 ker, " if she cannot find a seat elsewhere, she 
 must decline entering the coach ;" then turning to 
 the coach-man, " thou hast acted very indiscreetly 
 in thib matter; thou knowest our places were ta- 
 ken two days since : I do not suppose any of the 
 passengers were so early in their application as 
 ourselves."— '^ I know nothing about that," replied 
 the man, with 'a surly aspect; " there's room for 
 one of you, at any rate." — "' That will not he to 
 our purpose/' rejoined the quaker; "this young 
 •woman must not travel alone; if both cannot go, 
 thy coach availcth us nothing." — " Well, then, you 
 must both go to-morrow," said the ungracious 
 driver, " but luiiiJ you have paid the fare" — 
 *' Which in that case thou wilt return," meekly 
 observed the fair Friend. '* Return !" echoed the 
 man, and then with an oath athrmed he would 
 not. " We must not contend the point with 
 thee," rejoiued she, " but thou hast not justice 
 ou tliy sidt." The man shut the door. During 
 
MATTERS ACCOMMODATEn. 7 
 
 this dialogue, the officer and the lady sat laugh- 
 ing, and seemed lo enjoy the embarrassment of 
 the two Friends. Not so the rest of our party ; we 
 all with one voice attacked the surly coach-man, 
 but the 'squire's overpowered the rest. He swore 
 a tremendous oath, and, bouncing open the door, 
 sprang out in an instant. " Let the women in, 
 let 'em in," said he to the man, " I have been 
 used to snuff the morning air ;" and so saying, he 
 mounted the coach-box. " We are muchoblicfed 
 to thee for thy accommodation," said the elder 
 quaker, with a smile, " but are sorry it should 
 prove an occasion for thy swearing." 
 
 They took their seats. The three ladies, as 
 usual, were in the front, and the three gentlemen 
 t in the back seat. I had now an opportunity of 
 ' viewing, perhaps, as great a contrast as the fe- 
 male world could easily present in appearance 
 and general deportment. The fine lady reclined 
 her slender form in the corner ; her pelisse twisted 
 closely round her, as though she dreaded contami- 
 nation from the touch of her fair neighbour...: 
 The two Friends sat erect, and in each of tbeii" 
 hands was a small paper parcel. The elder one 
 appeared about forty years of age, and the younger,, 
 who, from a strong resemblance, I judged to be 
 her daughter, about sixteen. Their persons were 
 not large, yet I could not help remarking on the 
 extent of room they seemed to occupy, in conse- 
 •pence of the iwiaccomaiodatiog texture of their; 
 
8 THE FAIR OUAKERS. 
 
 quilted petticoats, which would not admit of that 
 compression which the flimsy apparel oF the fine 
 lady allowed. Tlieir faces, thoui^h " passing fair," 
 Mould not have been reckoned beautiful enough 
 for romance; yet they were rendered interesting 
 by the marks of prudence and intelligence in the 
 elder, and of simplicity and innocence in the 
 younger. 
 
 I was soon disturbed in my observations by the 
 captain, who, addressing himself to the young 
 damsel, inquired if she liked a silent meeting i 
 The abruptness of the question, added to the im- 
 pertinent stare with which it was accompanied, 
 raised a vermilion blush on her cheek. She made 
 no reply. The elder (juaker, for the future, I 
 shall denominate Mrs. Placid, as characteristic of 
 her appearance and deportment. Our fine lady, 
 who, at the same instant, 1 resolved to call Miss 
 Finakiu, now addressed herself to the youth in the 
 opposite corner, and, with a languid air, asked 
 him if he had seen the last new play? He an- 
 swered in the negative, but added that he had 
 lately read one written by a ludy, which, for good 
 sense and just di.scrimination of character, sur- 
 passed, in his opinion, any modern male author 
 in that cfi'partmcnt. 
 
 " O, you mean the * ScViool for Friends,' " re- 
 plied Miss Fhiakin ; " yes, it is pretty enough, 
 but not half so charming as the ' Honey Moon,' 
 acted with such general applause two winters since.'* 
 
^ NEW PLAYS. 9 
 
 *'• t must diificr from you there, madam/' re- 
 joined the gentleman ; " the language and senti- 
 ment \,ill not hear comparison; and as to origi- 
 nahty of plot, the author must yield all pretensions, 
 as it is founded on Shakespear's ' Taming of a 
 I Shrew.' " The lady, seeming too indolent for ar- 
 gument, did not exert herself to contradict the 
 gentleman's opinion, but addressed him with an- 
 other question ; " Have you seen the first work of 
 the age, *■ La Belle Assembleer'" 
 
 He replied, two numbers had met his eye, and 
 that he had been much pleased with a paper in one 
 of them, entitled, 'The Superiority of Principle 
 over Sentiment.' He said he thought the subject 
 was well treated, and well chosen for a work of 
 that nature, which falling under the notice of many 
 romantic readers, might tend to counteract certain 
 false views entertained by them. 
 
 *' Really," said Miss Finakin, " \ do not recol- 
 lect the subject, though I have taken the maga-; 
 zines from the first. But there is -a charming story 
 of a ghost in one of them" — " Which it is to be 
 hoped none will be silly enough to believe," re- 
 plied the gentleman ; " for if they do, they will 
 imbibe the dangerous idea that a deist may be 
 happy in a future state." 
 
 " I wonder, my wise aunt," said the officer, 
 " that you should call ' La Belle Assemble e' the 
 first work of the age. The first work of the age 
 is, ' The Miseries of Human Life.'" — " Very true/* 
 
10 FASHIONABLE PUBLICATION. 
 
 replied his aunt; " but they are of a dillerent na- 
 ture; 1 dote on the miseries, and feel at every pore 
 the distresses of Mr, Sensitive." 
 
 Mrs. Placid now turned her face toward the 
 fair speaker. " Thou dost asionisli me by thy de- 
 darution/' said slie ; " if llie person thou hast 
 mentioned was distressed, thou didst right to feel 
 a sympathy for him ; but how couldcst tiiou de- 
 light in reading of miseries?" 
 
 Miss Fiiiakin Hcemed at a loss for a reply to this 
 address; and it most fortunately happened, that 
 the coaci), just at the moment, stopped at the inn 
 where we were appointed to breakfast ; the topic, 
 therefore, waS; for the present, suspended. I 
 handed Mrs. Pi'acid from the carriage ; the young 
 gentleman did the same by Hachel, and Miss/'V;/- 
 akin was left to the attention of her nephew. 
 With our ladies under our arms we entered the 
 inn, where, if my readers please, they may 
 follow us. 
 
CIIJP. II. 
 
 The eye of a Scholar attracted by a new book, and the p:\rty 
 interested by its conteHts. The 'Squire's opinion of Latin qno- 
 lations. Mrs. Placid makes a sudden transition from a gay to 
 a grave subject. The effect produced. An address to the 
 reader. Mrs. Placid iiroposes to relate the history of her life, 
 and Miss Finakin composes hersell' to sleep, 
 
 UL R breakfast was dispatched in a great hurry, 
 and, amidst much confusion, we were soon sum- 
 moned to our vehicle, and the captain and the 
 'squire agreed to exchange places. I was not dis- 
 pleased at this new arrangement, notwithstanding 
 
 theinconvenientelbowing I sometimes experienced 
 from the increased bulk of my neighbour, his sim- 
 ])lc manners being more agreeable to me than the 
 more fashionable deportment of the captain. But 
 Jxac/tcl was a considerable gainer by the altera- 
 tion; she could now venture to turn her eves round 
 her without tlie fear of encountering any siare from 
 her companions to offend her bashful innocence. 
 
 We had not long been seated, when ouryoun^ 
 celiegian (as.in the course of the breakfast he had 
 avowed himself to be) discovered what lo a scho- 
 lar is ever an object to excite curiosity— this was a 
 'book in the pocket of the coach-door, which 
 * the captain had drawn from hi> own, and placed 
 
1^ MIJKniRS OF HUMAN LIFE, 
 
 there. *' iMay 1 be permitted to look at this book, 
 niudnmr" said he to Miss V — . " Certainly, Sir," 
 she replied; " it is the book we were speaking of 
 before breakfast, extremely entertaining, ' The 
 M iseries of Human Life.' '' — " An odd title," said the 
 'squire, '^ to expect ef^tertaiiiment (rom-^ but let us 
 hear a little about it, if you please, sir, though I 
 sha'n't like itif it^s very dismal; I hate dismal ditties 
 as I do a foggy morning in October. " — " The au- 
 thor is a scholar, I see," said the student; " here is 
 a great deal of Latin, which I must omit in com- 
 pliment to the ladies." — " Aye, aye," returned the 
 ''squire, '^ we want no outlandish gibberish, nothing 
 should be putinto books, but \Yhat e^'cry body may 
 understand." — '^ You would then consign half our 
 libraries to oblivion, sir," replied the scholar, who 
 now began reading. The 'squire frequently laughed 
 as he proceeded, then cried out, " Nonsense!" and 
 asked for the next misery. *' Are the hounds at a 
 fault just as you think- yourself sure of the gnme.^" 
 said he — " I don't recollect that misery," replied 
 INliss Finakin. '* Then the greatest remains un- 
 told," rejoined the sportsman. 
 
 '' I already j)erceive," observed Mrs. J^lacid, 
 ^' that the book is designed to burlesque the petty 
 troubles of life, and 1 wish the readers may so ap- 
 ply it, as to derive a gootl moral, and be led from 
 it to see the extreme folly of suflering their tempers 
 to be injured by such ridiculous evils." — " Ridic^i- 
 Ibus!" do you Call themr" said Mhs Finakin; " I'm 
 
MISERIES CLASSED. l.*? 
 
 sure they are enough to overwhehn any human 
 being."— '*^ Oh, don't talk so vainly/' replied Mrs. 
 Placid, " lest God in his providence should see fit 
 to chastise thee with real afflictions. The evils of 
 hfe may be classed under three kinds ; ideal mise- 
 ries, minor miseries, and afflictions or real miseries. 
 The first of these are what thy favourite book 
 chiefly treats of, vv^hich are not worth a serious 
 thought. The next, I will allow, are very irksome 
 to bear^ and they are generally worse endured, even 
 by good Christians, than severer trials^ and for this 
 simple reason— the assistance of divine grace is not 
 called in; we imagine that we can con)bat these 
 enemies alone, and in consequence we fail of gain- 
 ing a victory. But for the last there are remedies 
 appointed of a never-failing nature, to which the 
 sincere Christian repairs, and he is then enabled 
 with an apostle to say, ' Cast down, yet not for- 
 saken ; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; havino- 
 r.othingj and yet possessing all things.' " 
 
 Reader, does a text of scripture alarm vou ? 
 Does a religious sentiment act like an electrical 
 shock, and suddenly compel you to close my little 
 volume ? Alas ! then, what shall I do .? My fair 
 quakerwill quote scripture, and we must be serious; 
 because, to use the words of Sir Francis Walsinrr- 
 ham, a courtier of whom England may justly boast, 
 '' while we laugh, all things are serious around us; 
 God is serious, who exerciseth patience towards us; 
 Christ is serious, who shed his blood for us ; the 
 
 c 
 
It A SEKlOtS TIIOUGHl. 
 
 Holy Ghobt is serious, who strivetli against the ob- 
 stinacy of our hearts ; the holy scriptures hring to 
 our ears the most serious things in the world ; the 
 holy sacraments represent the moat serious and 
 awful matters; the whole creation is serious in 
 serving God and us ; all that are in heaven and 
 hell are serious." 
 
 Why do the gay and thoughtless start at the 
 word serious? Because they do not associate with 
 it another word, /inppitiess : yes, paradoxical as it 
 may appear, it is a truth built upon authority in- 
 disputable, that to be really serious, is to be truly 
 happy. 
 
 The grave remark of Mrs. Placid, had, as is too 
 frequently the case, produced a d^ad silence in our 
 little party. I felt ashamed of the effect, and 
 rousing myself from my usual taciturnity — 
 " Madam," said I, " 1 should like to hear more of 
 your sentiments upon religion :" — '' Aye, .nye," 
 added our good-tempered country-gentleman, " I 
 dare say you know something of the world, for 
 your sort of people are among the shrewd oiies : 
 I mean no offence." — " I believe thee," replied 
 Mrs. Placid, " and am not offended b}' thy plain 
 speaking. If I thought it wouUl be agreeable to 
 all in the coach, I would discourse u little upon ex- 
 perimental religion, which is the only ' Antidote 
 to the miseries of human life.' " 
 
 *' VV^hy as to that," answered the 'squire, shrug- 
 ging up his shoulders, " I don't know what to ^ay ; 
 
RELIGIOUS TALK. 15 
 
 v/e must leave religious talk to the parsons. Rcli- 
 e;ion is very well in its place, in the church and the 
 pulpit. What say you, rny youngster?" appealing 
 to the youth at his side. '' It ought never to be 
 out of season to me, sir/' he replied, " for I am 
 about entering into church orders, and religion is 
 now my proper study. Wliat say you, madam .'" 
 appealing in his turn to Miss Vtnnhin. " 1 think," 
 returned the lady, " people should keep their re- 
 ligious notions to themselves; but it is a pcriect 
 matter of indifference to me at present what turn 
 the conversation takes ; for I am so miserably ia- 
 tio^ued by such abominable early rising, that I can 
 neither keep my eyes nor ears open." So saying, 
 she closed the former, and probably the latter. 
 
 " Well then," said the 'squire, addressing him- 
 self to Mrs. Placid, " if you won't preach too long, 
 we'll give you a patient hearing." 
 
 " I am sorry, friend,'' rejoined Mrs. Placid, " to 
 find ihou iirt prejudiced against the best things ; 
 but as most prejudices are founded in ignorance, 
 I hope, when thou art rightly informed as to my 
 principles, thou wilt not disapprove of them." — " I 
 shall never be a quaker so long as I live," hastily 
 and loudly vociferated the 'squire. " Nor do I 
 want to make thee one," answered Mrs. Placid, 
 " Thou mayest be a Christian without becoming 
 a Friend, for that is the term we use — quaker is a 
 phrase of derision given us by our enemies." 
 
 '• I like the liberality of your sentiment^ ma- 
 
|6 LIBER^Ip IDEAS, 
 
 dam/* suid our young scholar, " in not connecting 
 the essence of Christianity with peculiar modes 
 and opinions — but are all sectarians thus lil>eral:" 
 " 1 fear/' replied Mrs. Placid, " there is much bi- 
 gotry to be found amongst sectarians, and I fear 
 iilso tiiat this disposition is not confined to secta- 
 rians only, but extends itself evenvvithin the walls 
 of thine own establishment ; but I would fain hope 
 that the geiieralitj/ of professing Christians in liic 
 present day, are not disposed to narrow that strait 
 path which leads to eternal life. Brotherly love 
 is a duty strongly inculcated throughout the whole 
 9f ihe New Testament j an jipostle makes it even 
 a test of our true adoption into God's family, say- 
 ing, ' We know we are passed from death unto 
 life, because we love the brethren.*" 
 
 " You said just now, madam,'' returned the stu- 
 dent, " that experimental religion was an antidote 
 to the miseries of human life. I should be obliged 
 to you if you would define the term experimental; 
 I hardly know how to understand you." 
 
 -Mrs. F lucid paused, and at length replied, " I 
 have been considering what will be the best way 
 of explaining my meaning to thee ; and although 
 it is not always seemly nor proper to talk of our- 
 selves, yel, I am inclined to give thee, and our 
 other friends, a few particulars of my own life, 
 and what experimental religion has done for me, 
 in many trying situations." 
 
 We all (except our sleeping lady) united in re- 
 
MRS, PI,ACID S NARRATIVE BEGAN. 17 
 
 questing Mrs. Placid to favour us with the rela- 
 tion — she then began as follows : — 
 
 "" Some of my ancestors were amongst our per- 
 secuted people imprisoned in the reign of Charles 
 the Second, for their steady attachment to their 
 religious principles. He was pleased to release 
 them ; for amidst all his errors, lie was friendlv to 
 the rights of conscience. 
 
 " My father and mother were both speakers in 
 our assemblies ; they had some property, and I was 
 their only child. They were careful to instruct the 
 in every useful accomplishment, (our Society admits 
 of no other,) especially in our religious principles, 
 and the worth of mv never-dvinij soul. But I 
 must confess that their religious instructions luid 
 little effect upon my youthful mind. I was vain 
 and gay, notwithstanding my plain clothing and 
 strict morality. Before I was quite seventeen, I had 
 an offer of marriage from one of our People, wlio 
 was five, or, I believe, six years older than myself. 
 We were proposed to the meeting, agreeably to the 
 customary method ; and it is some time before a 
 couple can be united by our rules. In this interim 
 my father died, and left, as he supposed, a comfort- 
 able provision for his wid.ow and mG. O-m* pro- 
 perty was all in the bank, and ray mother omplovc-d 
 a friend, as she supposed him, to receive tl>e inte- 
 rest for us, and for that purpose legal authorities 
 were given into his hands, 1 dO' not understand 
 the nature of these matters sufiiciently to explain, 
 c 3 
 
18 A SWINDLER. 
 
 exactly, how it happened; but so it was^ our sup- 
 posed friend turned out false and unjust, and my 
 mother was soon informed that he h;id left Eng- 
 land, and taken the whole of our property along 
 with him." 
 
 " A rascal! a scoundrel !" exclaimed the 'squire, 
 clinching his fist. " What! had you no one to 
 send after him ? I wish I had known you at the 
 time, I would hgve followed him all over the world. 
 Well, what did you dor" 
 
 'f 1. never,'' rejoined Mrs. Placid, " shall forget 
 the conduct of my mother on this trying occasion : 
 she called me to her, holding the letter in her 
 l)and which contained the melancholy intelligence : 
 *' Deborah," said she, " we have lost all our money, 
 which thy father had for many years been collect- 
 ing together for our maintenance; but we iiave not 
 lost the favour of God, and the comforts of a good 
 conscience, which are the two greatest blessings in 
 the world ; an<l all we have now to do is to pray 
 for grace to be enabled to forgive the person who has 
 thus injured us, and to trust in God, who has said 
 by his prophet Isaiah — ' Leave thy fatherless chil- 
 dren to me, and let thy widows trust in the name of 
 the Lord.'" I well remember ray surprise at seeing 
 my mother so composed and checrCul under this 
 trial, for I knew not then the power of vital religion. 
 We went to ineeting that day, and she was moved 
 to speak at large of the goodness and providence of 
 God, who caretU for his faithful servants. The 
 
SENSIBILITIES. 19 
 
 matter was soon made known to the Society, and 
 they (as might be expected) were not backward in 
 their good offices; they never suffered my mother 
 to want the comforts of life." — '' But then/' said 
 the collegian, '^ she was in a dependent situation, 
 the most irksome tiling in the world to a person of 
 sensibility.'' — '' I doubt, friend/' replied Mrs. Pla- 
 cid, "■ whether the word sensibility, as thou hast 
 applied it, in most cases ought not to be rendered 
 pride. The mind which recoils from a sense of 
 obligation to its fellow-creatures, ought to examine 
 itself very closely; there are very few circum- 
 stances which can justify those painful emotions 
 which thou termest sensibilities. This is one of 
 the self-created miseries of which we have heard 
 so much this morning." — " Proceed, madam, if 
 you please," rejoined the youth, " I am half a 
 convert to your sentiment." 
 
 " Seeing my mother taken such good care of, 
 and considering my own prospects in regard to 
 marriage, I soon regained my accustomed cheer- 
 fulness, when suddenly I observed a coolness in 
 my friend's behaviour, for which I could no ways 
 account : for he was in a good line of business, 
 and I had never supposed he had any view in ad- 
 dressing me but pure regard. The matter, how- 
 ever, proved otherwise, and I soon discovered his 
 wish was to decline the connexion. I was not 
 wanting in a proper womanly spirit on- this occa- 
 5i9n; though I am conscious there was much pride 
 
20 A DISATPOINTMF.NT. 
 
 and resentment inlerniixed, and I soon gave him 
 to understand I was as willing to dissolve the tn- 
 gagement as himself." — "■ You did wrong here," 
 said the 'squire, " you should have brought the 
 matter into court! — you might have had large 
 damacfes, and the tellovv would have been made 
 ashamed of himself— Gad! 1 should have liked 
 to have seen how Mr. Ihoad-brim would have 
 looked all the time Garrow was addressing the 
 jury I" — " We must not appeal to law on such oc- 
 casions," replied Mrs. Placid. " Von must not?" 
 rejoined the "squire, " but you ought — you do wrong 
 
 to let such ." By the fierceness of his 
 
 looks, doubtless Mrs. Placid was fearful of violent 
 ^vords, if not oaths, for she hastily interrupted 
 liim, and proceeded with her story. " It now 
 became necessary for me to seek some mode of 
 livin"-, and it was soon agreed by our friends that 
 I should be placed for two years at a child-bed 
 linen warehouse. I went with a heavy heart, for 
 it was not yet sufficiently humbled to the will of 
 God, and when th^it is the case, afflictions ar.e 
 liard to. bear. I thought myself unkindly dealt 
 with by providence." " An<l so you were," inter- 
 rupted our warm-hearted country-gputleman ; 
 " poor soul ! 1 feel for your situation!" — 
 
 " I thank thee;' si\id Mrs. P , " but thy 
 
 sentiment is not good — thou forgettest that man, as 
 a sinner, cannot be said to be dealt unkindly with 
 by providence^ since he deserves chastisements. ; 
 
A FBESH OFFER. Si 
 
 and thou shouldest also consider, that afflictions 
 are not always to be supposed judgments, hut 
 friendly warnings, and as methods used by God 
 to bring sinners to repentance." The 'squire made 
 no answer — and Mrs. Phcid's remark appeared 
 to have sunk deeper into his mind than he seemed 
 willing to acknowledge. 
 
 " At the end oK two years, and just as those 
 kind friends, which a gracious providence had 
 raised up for me, had agreed to set me up in bu- 
 siness, I met with another young man in our So- 
 ciety who offered me marriage. I accepted his 
 proposals ; and was, as soon as the rules permit- 
 ted, united to one who proved himself the kind- 
 est husband, the — ." Mrs. Placid 
 
 suddenly looked out of the coach-window. I 
 looked too — but I coidd see nothing — '^ What is it, 
 madam r" said 1. " The roads are dirtier than I 
 imagined," she replied, then drew her ijead again 
 into the carriage, and 1 observed upon her snowy 
 kerchief three crystal drops, which unravelled the 
 mystery. 
 
 *' My husband," continued our fair narrator, 
 '^ had a flourishing business as a tobacconist, in 
 London, and was much esteemed by our Society. 
 He was so kind as to permit my mother to re- 
 side with us, and our friends took care we should 
 be no losers by her maintenance. Tiuis we went 
 on very comfortably for some time, I believe I 
 ;:iay say six or seven months, and I think I had 
 
22 THE HUSBAND. 
 
 only one uneasiness upon my mind for the whole 
 of that time — we lived in a narrow street, and [ 
 was very fearful of fire — my husband too was so 
 imprudent as not to insure our property, and there 
 was hardly a day passed without iny desiring him 
 to doit. His answer generally was, " Deborah, 
 thou dost not trust enough in providence, I don't 
 fear fire, or any other evil." — " Ziicharias," I re- 
 plied, " thou art right, no doubt, in thy principle, 
 but thou oughicst to rcinember that the use of 
 means, as well as faith, is commanded. And if 
 thine house is burnt down, while fire-ofhccs for 
 insurance are open to thee, the blame must rest 
 on thine own head." The only fault this good man 
 had, as far as I know, was a degree of undue ob- 
 stinacy." — " Aye," said our 'squire, " that's a fault 
 peculiar to your sect; who ever knew a quaker 
 without obstinacy?" — " Thou shouldcst not be so 
 general in tin* censures/' replied Mrs. Placid-^ 
 " obstinacy is a common failing, and thou wilt 
 allow that what is common to the human charac- 
 ter, must be expected to prevail in a degree in 
 every sect and party — Well, neither my mother 
 nor I coulfJ prevail on my husband to insure, and 
 at hist we gave over all thoughts of it. AVhcn 
 one night, in the Eleventii month ;" — " Mother," 
 interrupted Rachel, " I have heard thee say it 
 was one night in the tttith month.'' — "True," re- 
 plied Mrs. r , ** I believe it was in the tenth 
 
 month — I was suddenly awakened by smoke. 
 
FIRE. 23 
 
 "Zachatias! Zacharias I" I called out, " therel 
 'tis as I feared, our house is on fire!" — " Make 
 thyself easy," said he, " I believe it is only our 
 neighbour's," He was right in his supposition, 
 for it was the next door, and this was an unspeak 
 able mercy for us, as by that means we saved our 
 lives : we got our dear aged mother lodged in a 
 safe place, and then 1 entreated Zacharias to pro- 
 cure people to endeavour to save our goods; but 
 he was so strongly persuaded that our house would 
 not catch, that it was some time before he would 
 allow any thing to be moved ; and then it was 
 such a dangerous undertaking for the people, that 
 I was equally earnest with ihem to desist from the 
 attempt. I can never be sufficiently thankful that 
 no life was lost on our account, lor it would be- 
 sides have inibittered my husband's days — seeing 
 he might in ihat case justly have blamed himself." 
 — " I hope, madam/' said the collegian, " this mis- 
 fortune cured your husband in future of his obsti- 
 nacy." Mrs, r/acid only smiled ; and possibly had 
 she not feared to have uttered an untruth, she 
 would have answered in the affirmative. " We 
 had now,'' continued Mrs. Placid, " lost our 
 goods, stock in trade, and also some ready money 
 which I had, as I supposed, saved, but in luy 
 fright, as I believe, must have dropped in the 
 street. My poor husband was in great distress — 
 ''Take comfort," said I, " thou hast many friends, 
 who will, perhaps, set thee up in business again." 
 
2i GOOD AND BAB FORTUNE. 
 
 '' Thou hast b^bn imprudent," said our mother, 
 " but thou hast not done wickedly, therefore there 
 is no cause for this excess of sorrow." We went 
 to meeting, the next being fust-da}', and one of 
 our friends was led to speak from those comfort- 
 able words in the prophet Isaiah — " Wlien thou 
 passest through the waters I will be with thee; 
 and through the rivers, they shall not overflow 
 thee : when thou walkest through the fire thou 
 shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle 
 upon thee.'' These words were so suitable to our 
 case, that I was more affected than I had ever 
 been in any of our assemblies — every word our 
 friend spoke seemed addressed to me; and I now, 
 for tlie first time, felt, what T liad so often heard 
 my mother and husband talk of, the preciousness 
 of scripture applied to the heart. After v.orship, 
 our friends came around us, and condoled with us 
 on account of our misfortune, as worldly people 
 call such events." — " And praj- what do you call 
 them?" said llie 'squire. " We don't talk of good 
 and bad fortune " replied Mrs. Placid, " because 
 there is something heathenish in the phrase — we 
 call them trying dispensations, or chastising provi- 
 dences. — Our friends, as I expected, told my hus- 
 band they would assist him again to set up in 
 business; and we returned to the little lodging 
 to which we had taken our mother, and where we 
 engaged another room for ourselves ; it happen- 
 ing, most providentially, that the people of the 
 
THK SUBJECT ADJOURNED. 2o 
 
 house were our particular friends, and quite will- 
 ing to accommodate us with ready money: thus 
 are afflictions frequently alleviated by favourable 
 circumstances attending them. But (said Mrs. 
 Placid) our coach is just drawing up to the inn, 
 where I suppose we are to dine." — " Just so," said 
 the 'squire, looking out ; " well, the time has past 
 quickly away — but you have not ended your story ; 
 I like to hear you talk, and indeed I always did 
 like to hear women talk to the purpose." — '' Then, 
 sir," said I, " you will have no objection to the 
 I / lady's resuming her subject after dinner.'' — '' Not 
 in the least," replied he — Mrs. P. promised com- 
 pliance with our wishes, and as we followed her 
 into the inn, the 'squire whispered me — '' A 
 good sensible woman, notwithstanding her Qua- 
 kerism !" 
 
2G 
 
 CHJP. III. 
 
 Miss Findkin awake, and talking of misery. All parties busilj 
 erit^aoed. Mrs. Placid's treatment of an insolent coachman. 
 1 he 'riijiiire prefers an inside {(lace with the ladies to an out- 
 side seat with a smart Caplain. Mrs. Placid proceeds with her. 
 history. The 'Squire's opinion of the doctrine of good works, 
 and the duties of a wife. An interesting point of controversy 
 briefly discussed. A shower of rain j and an addition made 
 to the party in consequence. 
 
 Miss TinaUms eyes were scarcely opened, and 
 lier senses restored to their usual state of discern- 
 ment, when she was hurried from the coach into 
 the inn. — She then looked at her watch, and e.v- 
 claimed, " What a misery ! just twelve o'clock — 
 >vhat an hour for dinner!"—" The misery of the 
 husiness," replied our country-gentleman, ''would 
 be to have no dinner to eat; but truly I think 
 there must be some mistake, it is not common to 
 dine .so early, even in travelling!" Upon inquiry, 
 we found we were only summoned from our ve- 
 hicle for the purpose of changing it; and most 
 readers know the confusion and anxiety this ce- 
 remony occasions. " Mind that sword-case in 
 the booJ," cries the captain. " If any harm, 
 comes to that gun there, I'll blow your brains 
 out, you rascal," vociferated the 'squire. " Oh I 
 
I 
 
 THt: COACHMAN REMEMBERED. 2? 
 
 mercy, I shall-luse my box!" screamed Miss Fi- 
 ntiklu" — ^'^^ Why shouldest thou anticipate evil?" 
 said i\Irs. Placid; '^ \ make no doubt all our goods 
 will be safe, but we must give an eye whilst they 
 are removing." So saying, she stepped briskly to 
 the inn-yard, and I followed, not wholly regard- 
 Jess of the fate of my portmanteau. At length 
 matters were all adjucied to liie satisfaction of 
 each party ; and the coachman, with n)any bows 
 and scrapes, requested to be remembered by our 
 honours. " Friend," said Mrs. Placid, " thou 
 desirent to be remembered; dost thou desire me 
 to remember the words which thou madest use of 
 when I entered thy coach this morning?" The 
 man hesitated, and twirled his hat round tlie top 
 of a short whip he held in his hand ; at length — _ 
 " I hopes, ma'am," said he, " as how you'll forget 
 and forgive.'' — " Thou shalt have a convincing 
 proof of it," rephed Mrs. P. as she put her hand 
 into her pocket; " but remember, 1 do not re- 
 ward thine ill words and rude behaviour, but I 
 give thee this trifle because it is my duty to return 
 good for evil, and in the hope that thou wilt for 
 the future consider it as My duty to £K.-t with civi- 
 lity' to all thy passengers." 
 
 Our country-gentleman was requested by the 
 captain to partake of his company on the out- 
 side of the coach, it being a most delightful day 
 for the accommodation of tliose who from choice 
 or economy occupy those upper stories; but he re- 
 
28 TlIK STORY HF.SUMED. 
 
 plied, " Noj IK), captain, I have such good com- 
 panj' uitliin, that 1 won't run ilir risk ot" an ex- 
 change i" and so saying, he stepped into the 
 coach. " Your sleepy fit, madam,'" fxud he ta 
 Miss Fiuakin, " has deprived you of some plea- 
 sant conversation ; hut I hope now you are com- 
 pletely awake, and disposed to listen to what this 
 gentlewoman has further to say. Let me see, you 
 left off just after the fire, T think, ma'am — did 
 your friends set yotir husband up again in busi- 
 ness r" — "" I am aware," said ISIrs. Placid, ad- 
 dressing herself to Miss F'makin, " that it is 
 very probable thou mayest form a contemptible 
 opinion of that person's understanding, who, in a 
 stage-coach, relates the history of her life; and, 
 generally speaking, it would be highly improper 
 and absurd : but 1 have been led to do it from 
 the hope of edification, and therefore desire thou 
 wilt not ascribe the action, either to folly or im- 
 pertinence." Miss V. made no other answer to 
 this address, than by a bow of her head ; and an 
 acute physiognomist might have discovered a 
 look of contemi>l, which escaped die obser- 
 vation of Mrs. riacid, who now proceeded as 
 follows : — 
 
 *' Providence raised us v.p many kind friends, 
 and my husband was soon enabled to open ano- 
 ther shop in the neighbourhood, t.wd we again 
 enjoyed the l)lessing of a good trade : he was also 
 prevailed on to insure our property, and my mind 
 
THE GOOD HOUSEWIFE. 29' 
 
 was made easy on that subject. We lived m 
 this comfortable manner for five years^ in which 
 time our family was increased by one son and two 
 daughters ; my mother grew old and infirm, and 
 as our income would not allow xis to keep more 
 than one servant, my time was fully occupied 
 from morning to night. I now felt the advantages 
 which arise from constant employment; it is, 
 in my opinion, the best recipe to produce health 
 and good humour." 
 
 " Three children, an old infirm mother, and 
 the management of a house, witii only the assist- 
 ance of one servant! why, madam," said I, " a 
 fine lady must have gone mad." Mrs. Placid 
 smiled; " Yes, friend," she rephed, " but I am 
 not a fine lady ;" she evidently struggled to sup- 
 press a sigh, and added, ** 'Jhis was the happiest 
 time of my life; yet why do 1 say so.? my days 
 have been nil happy, for * goodness and mercy 
 have followed me all the days of my life.' There 
 was one evil which I must not omit to mention, 
 occasioned by my close attention to the duties of 
 tny station ; my mind, never much given to se- 
 rious reflection, nas by this means drawn olf 
 almost entirely. 1 thought my family cares a suf- 
 ficient excase, and I know not to what length 
 I might have carried my error, had not divine 
 mercy interposed, and, by sending me fresh trials, 
 humbled, proved me, and shewed me what re- 
 beiJiou there was in my heart. My husband saw 
 
 D 3 
 
50 zacharias's death. 
 
 my disposition with great concern, lor ho had learn- 
 ed to be pious and industrious too, and managed 
 }iis time so well, that the fluties of his rehgion and 
 business never were at variance. ' Ali, Deborah,' 
 lie would frequently say, ' thou art like Martha of 
 old ; I wish I could sec more of Mary about thee.'"' 
 " It was a shame in him to find fault/' said the 
 'squire — " he had got a sober industrious wite : and 
 what did he want more? — [ will maintain that good 
 works are the sum and substance of all religion, 
 and would not give a fig for any other." — " Ma vest 
 thou ever continue in that mind," replied Mr?. 
 Placid, " for thv soniimrnt is ai2;reeable to truth ; 
 —but thou must remember to act upon it, or thy 
 good sentiment availeth thee notiiing. — But do 
 not suppose that my husband ever uttered any un- 
 l(ind words to me, on this or any other occasion; 
 they were only the words of exhortation, and they 
 have sunk deeply into my heart. I believe we had 
 been married just six years, when my dear Za- 
 charias was taken ill of a fever ; at first no appre- 
 hensions were entertained of his danger ; but i: 
 soon appeared t!)at it was the will of God to remove 
 him from us. He was delirious most of the time ; 
 hut v/hen he was not so, the precious moments 
 \\£jx spent in prayer, and attempts to .sooth and 
 reconciie my mind to his departure. It was in one 
 of these intervals, and while he was commending 
 me and liis dear children to the care and guidance 
 t>f bis heavenly Father, thnt he suddenly breathed 
 
THE VII DOW. Si 
 
 liis last^ and entered into that ' rest which re- 
 maincth for the people of God.' " Mrs. Placid was 
 now obliged to pause — but there was no tincture 
 of affectation in her deportment ; it was the pause 
 of undisscm bled sensibility, and heart-felt, emotion. 
 I cast my eyes on each of our party. The big 
 tears in quick succession were chasing each other 
 down the cheek of the gentle Rachel. The youth 
 who sat opposite her took her hand ; " Take com- 
 fort," said he, " remember there is anodier, and 
 a better world." I glanced at Miss Fhiakhi, and 
 observed that, witli the most unconcerned aspectj 
 she was gazing out of the window. — Of what 
 materials, thought I, is the heart of a fine lady 
 composed ! " Come," said our blustering 'squire, 
 (squeezing his eyes together, and passing his hand 
 across them, as though a sudden cloud of dust had 
 assi'.iled them,) " let's pass by this dismal part of 
 your story : I hope matters went well with you 
 after your husband's deatii ?" — "Yes," rejoined 
 Mrs. Placid, who now seemed entirely txi have 
 recovered her usual composure, " they did indeed 
 go well, for now 1 began to know the way of God 
 in truth. I hastened into my mother's chamber, 
 soon after my husband had breathed his last. 
 '*' Ah, Deborah!" said she, " I sec, by thy looks, 
 the news thou hast to communicate !" — " What 
 will become of me!" said [; " what shall I do iti 
 this affiiction !"— " Fly to thy Bible," she replied., 
 ^^ and there thou wih read, ♦ Thy Maker is llune 
 
S2 A mother's course-. 
 
 husband, the Lord of Hosts is his name,' " — " But, 
 alas!" I rejoined, " I have cast off fear, and re- 
 strained prayer before God ! How then can I look 
 to him for support?" — " By a hand graciously se- 
 vere, perha[)s," she replied, " he will convince thee 
 of ' sin, of righteousness, and of judgment ;' and 
 then thou wilt cry out, with holy David, ' It was 
 good for me that I was afflicted.' " — 
 
 '' In this manner did iny kind mother converse, 
 and my spirits by degrees became more composed. 
 I sought the company of our Iriends who were 
 most spiritual, whom I had used to sliun ; and 
 by their means I was much enlightened in reli- 
 gion. I lead the Bible with cave and attention, 
 which 1 had never done before, and was astonished 
 to find how many beautiful passages I had over- 
 looked. I prayed constantly for spiritual discern- 
 ment, holy dispositions, and an obedient heart. 
 Having used all these means of grace, I was not 
 disappointed, but gained the end of my desire; 
 even the conversion of my soul. 1 was now fully 
 reconciled to these ' light afflictions, which are 
 (comparatively) but for a moment,' seeing they 
 work out for us ' an eternal weight of glory.' 
 And, in particular, 1 was reconciled to my hus- 
 band's deatlj, being convinced thnt tliC thange 
 was much in his favour; and haviu;:;; a good hope, 
 through grace, of being again reunited to liim in 
 the mansions of ciernid blessedness." 
 
 1 wished to dwell a little upon this last sentiment 
 
HEAVEN. 53 
 
 entertained by the fair quaker, bt^cause I thought 
 of my own beloved partner, removed, as [ trusted, 
 to the same abodes of eternal blessedness—'' Ma- 
 dam," said I, " you then are of opinion that we 
 shall know each other in heaven r" — " Certainly I 
 am," she replied, '' or else how could David, speak- 
 ing of his departed child, say,—' I shall go to 
 him, but he shall not return to me;' which was 
 evidently a comfortable reflection to him, for he 
 dried up his tears immediately ; but if he had not 
 been convinced that he should be able to dis- 
 tinguish him from amongst the myriads of others 
 lie should meet there, hijw would tiiat have been 
 any particular ground of consolation ? lUit what 
 our Lord has said is; still, more to the purpose, 
 in those awful words which he addresses to the 
 workers of iniquity — * There shall be weeping and 
 gnashing of teeth, when ye shall see Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets, in the 
 kingdom of God, and you yourselves thrust out.' 
 If the workers of iniquity are thus permitted to 
 know the persons of those mentioned, surelv the 
 saints in glory with them shall be favoured with 
 the same knowledge; and if so, f think 'tis most 
 reasonable to suppose we s'lall know our dear 
 triend^ and relatives,, in wliose persons we are still 
 more interested"—'' Unless," replied I, " those 
 fine feelings we enjoy on earth are to be an- 
 nihilated in heaven" — "Which no part of scrip- 
 ture, tliat I know of, warrants us to suppose," re- 
 
M PLEASVUK ANTlCIPATrD. 
 
 plied Mrs. P. " and it is not? to be imaii:rnt<l that 
 we should be commanded to Abound in love to 
 each other whilst in this inj perfect state, if in a 
 state of perfection the principle was to be annihi- 
 lated."—" I think," said Miss Finakiii, " 'lis time 
 enough to talk of what we shul] meet with in lua- 
 ven when we get there.'' — " Dost thou not antici- 
 pate the pleasures which thou cxpccicst to meet 
 with at the [)Iay-housc and the ball-room ?" asked 
 Mrs. Placid. Miss F. was compelled to answer 
 in the affirmative. " But that/' added she, " is 
 a very different case." — '' Yes, indeed," rejoined 
 
 Mrs. P _, " the case is widely diflerent ; for 
 
 one pleasure is vain and transitory, the other sub- 
 stantial and everlasting ; but the argument is good 
 for both, and whilst thy party hold it reasonable 
 to enjoy by anticipation the pleasures they pursue, 
 they must allow it to be equally so for our's."-— 
 ''Excellent logic! madam," cried the scholar; 
 " no student in our college would attempt a con- 
 futation." 
 
 Our vehicle now made a sudden stop, in conse- 
 quence, as we found, of a shower of rain, and our 
 gay captain petitioned to be admitted, as be had 
 not a great coat; and indeed if he had been pro- 
 vided with that necessary article, he appeared one 
 of that puny race who "suffered not the wind of 
 heaven to visit his face too roughly." — '*■ Squeezing 
 work," said the 'squire, ** but if the ladies will ac- 
 commodate, we'll see what can be done," — " Cer- 
 
THE COMPANY ENLAUGED. 35 
 
 tainly," replied Mrs. P. " vve ought to accommo- 
 date our fellow-travellers, if possible; some of us 
 nre'sknder-RacM, sit as close to me as thou 
 art able." She did so, nm] matters were rendered 
 more comfortable than I expected ;--we had now 
 an addition to our company, but how far we en- 
 joyed it, the reader shall judge for himself, if he 
 pleases, in the next chapter. 
 
S6 
 
 ciJjF. ir 
 
 A dissertation on the art of conversation. The 'Squire makes an 
 otfer to inc Widow PJaciH, who gives ber opinion upon scandal. 
 The Captain discovers a new misery, and utters a groan on the 
 occasion. I'he Schoidr offers a hint upon educatiun, wliich 
 rouses the Captain's poetical genius. Mrs. I'lacid decides the 
 cuutrovers}'. A Irolic in higli stjle from the Captain concludes 
 the chapter. 
 
 *' A'V ELL, captain/' said our country-gentleman, 
 who, if the reader pleases, we will i'or the future 
 distinguish by the name of Bustle, " 1 hope you 
 have no objection to good conversation ; this gen- 
 tlewoman here (looking at Mrs. F/acid) has enter- 
 tained us fur the last twenty miles with such, and 
 I dare say will proceed." — " Excuse me, ft lend, at 
 present," returned Mrs. P. " perhaps before w 
 part, I may conclude the subject on which we have 
 been discoursing; but other topics may now be 
 more interesting." The captain very politely pro- 
 tested he should be sorry to interrupt them — " Hut 
 upon my honour," added he, " conversation is a 
 bore, as 'tis generally managed ; it either take^ the 
 air of a debating society, a party of geographers 
 assembled to discuss winds, weathers, and climates, 
 or a criticism on the characters, persons, and for- 
 
GOOD CONVr.USATlON. 37 
 
 tunes of our neighbours."—" There is a good deal 
 of truth in your observation, 1 think, sir/' replied 
 the collegian, " but those who sec th.e defects, may 
 perliaps improve the art, of conversation : 1 there- 
 fore hope you will take the subject into serious con- 
 sideration."—'' I like cheerful entertaining conver- 
 sation, as well as any one," observed Miss Finn- 
 kin; '• but when it cannot be made so, we have an 
 excellent substitute in cards — they are ever at 
 command to relieve an insipid visit; and even in a 
 moral point of view, as the serious people would 
 Fuy, they are useful, and act as a check to scandal 
 in many instances."—" \{;' replied the student, 
 the absence of cards necessarily produces the 
 presence of scandal, I should heartily unite in your 
 last sentiment, madam ; but this you must allow is 
 far from being the case; and, indeed, I fear that 
 many a rcputraion has been wounded between the 
 deals, of a card-table."—'-' I wonder," said Mr. 
 Bustle, " how people can take delight in talking 
 scandal ; for my part 1 hate it worse than a lame 
 horse."—" Most persons," observed Mxs. Placid, 
 " have some sin which most easily besets them. 
 It happens, I suppose, that this is not thine, and 
 therefore thou vvonderest. I wish thou wonldest 
 examine thy heart diligently, and try to discover 
 what error thou indulgest, at which other people 
 in their turn might wonder. Thou .wilt excuse my 
 plain speaking."—" Yes, yes," rejoined Mr. 
 Buitle, " I have no objection to plain speaking : 
 
 E 
 
38 THE TONGUi: U .\ GOVi:KiN A U LK. 
 
 do you ever speak in public.''" ISlrs. P. answered 
 in the affirmative. " Then," said the 'squire, 
 " you shall have my barn whene- er you please, 
 and I'll come and hear you." — '' 1 wish," continued 
 Mrs. Placid, " there were more persons to be found 
 in the world, ;vho, as the poet Watts says, 
 
 ' Will scarce believe an ill report, 
 Nor vent it to their ntiglibuur's hurt.' 
 
 But I am far horn thinking that all who speak ill 
 of their neighbours are actuated by a settled prin- 
 ciple of ill-will and malice in their hearts. It is 
 aften done inadvertently, and for want of due re- 
 flection. ' The tongue is,' as James says, ' an unruly 
 member whicli cannot be tamed;' and he seems 
 to intimate, that if it could, so that we never of- 
 fended by it, we should be arrived at perfection. 
 This being the case, we must make due allowance 
 for faults of this nature, though certainly the 
 fault itself cannot be too severely censured and 
 guarded against; and it is every christian's duty to 
 * set a watch on the door of his lips, that he ofi'end 
 not with his tongue.'" — No one interrupting Mrs. 
 P. she went on : " I have been reflecting on what 
 has dropped respecting conversation, and 1 cannot 
 imagine why reasonable beings should ever be at 
 a loss for rational discourse. Thou sayest," ad- 
 dressing Miss Finaliin, " that an insipid visit is re- 
 lieved by the card-table; but why should there 
 be insipid visits?" This was a pointed question, 
 and I felt my curiosity excited to hear Miss Fina- 
 
visiriNo. 59 
 
 A-///'s reply. " Why should there be insipid 
 visits?" replied tlie lady — "dear! who is always 
 ill the luiiaoiir for talking r We go fatigued to 
 dealii from a dinner party one dav, to a rout the 
 next, meet the same people a thousand times, and 
 are obliged to say the same thing a thousand 
 times over."—" O the miseries of a fashionable 
 life! " added tlie captain, v\ iiii a deep groan ; " yet 
 you would not be without them, dear aunt? nor 
 would I, upon my honour; — set that down — the 
 misery of saying the same thing a thousand 
 times !" — " it should seem, then," said Mrs. Pla- 
 cid, " that it is the multiplicity of visits paid by 
 the gay world, which makes them so insipid; and 
 indeed it is reasonable to suppose that may be 
 one reason, for the human powers have their 
 limits, and the faculty of speech, like every other, 
 will not admit of constant exercise : but I am in- 
 clined to fear there is another reason, namely, 
 that the minds of our fashionable people are not 
 generally well stored with information, and that 
 sort of useful ideas, without which, it is im -possible 
 they should cotiverse to any good purpose." — 
 " You would then change their system of educa- 
 tion, I suppose, madam," said the collegian, '' for 
 
 youth's the season to gain information, and" 
 
 " Nonsense," interrupted the captain ; " none 
 ot your pedantry: — youth's the season made for 
 pleasure — leave study to old age and leisure. — 
 There, I have made a rhyirie for you without de- 
 
40 i:nrcATioN. 
 
 signing it; so it is, to be poetical by nature." Miss 
 I'lnakiii Ijinghed, and looked as though she really 
 ttiouirht her nephew had said a wittv thins:- 
 
 " Pi-ace and efteem is all thnt age can l\opc : 
 Nothing but \vi,s<Ioiii gives the first, the l;i?i. 
 Nothing but (ho repute of being wi«c.'' 
 
 " There, sir," said the student, " is a borrowed 
 poetical flight for your impromptu." — " \Vould 
 we eonld persuade our young friends," said Mrs. 
 Placid, " to lay a foundation of true wisdom for 
 the support of their declining years ! 1 hey would 
 then be in possession of an Antidote for one of 
 the miseries of human life." — " I have heard the 
 system of education adopted by jour sect much 
 commended, madam," said I. " We pay great 
 attention to tliis matter," replied Mrs. P. " and 
 I believe most unprejudiced })ersons will allow 
 that our youth are in general well informed, 
 upon history, morals, and, I trust 1 may add, re- 
 ligion. I must say, that I ascribe this in a great 
 degree to our exclusion of cards." — "O! pray, 
 ma'am, no lecture against cards," said Miss F., 
 " I know all the arguments on tliat subject; I 
 had them from an old maiden aunt, who delight- 
 ed to rail at all amusements and innocent recrea- 
 tions." — *' Then I must despair of convincing 
 thy judgment on this point," replied iSlrs. P.: 
 *' but I fear thou hcardest only thy aunt's argu- 
 ments ; for if thou hadst impartially considered 
 and weighed them, I believe thou wouldcst not 
 
CARDS. 41 
 
 have been an advocate for an amusement which 
 wastes the time, spoils the temper, and injures the 
 morals, of thousands. But when I say our young 
 people owe part of their information to the exclu- 
 sion of cards, I mean in respect of what they gain 
 from social intercourse. Tlie young pcrsonswetake 
 with us to our social meetings, or visiting parties, 
 as thou wouldest call them, are attentive to the 
 conversation whicii passes, and it is hard, indeed, 
 if some one or other in the company docs not talk 
 to the purpose ; whereas the young persons which 
 thou takest with thee have their eyes and ears en- 
 grossed by ' bits of painted paper,' as one calls 
 them ; or what is still w'orse, are made to engage 
 in the diversion at a very early ac^c themselves." 
 
 How long Mrs. Placid might have continued 
 her liarangue, it is impossible to sav, had not. 
 each person's attention been sudden] v arrested by 
 the increased motion of the coach, the " winircd 
 steeds" living olT with it in a most unaccount- 
 able manner. The captain thrust iiis head out of 
 the window, and exclaimcd,^ -^That's vcur sort! 
 keep moving — ^licep moving!" "Oh, pray,"' said 
 Mrs. PiMcid, " desire them not to keep moving 
 in this manner." Miss Pbialuii screamed, either 
 with real or affected terror; she called upon the 
 name of Him, who has commanded his name to 
 be reverenced ; not used by his creatures to ex- 
 press merely their surprise, their alarms, or their 
 affirmations. She then entreated her nephew to 
 
42 A DANGEROUS FROLIC. 
 
 desire the coachman to stop his horses, protcsi- 
 iiig tiiat we should all be overset, and killed upon 
 the spot. Mrs. P/acid and her dauglucr were 
 pale with fear, but no violent exclamations were 
 uttered ; in the mildest terms they united their 
 petition to Miss Finakins, but our ca[)taiu was 
 deaf to all entreaty ; he still kept his head ex- 
 tended out of the window, crying out, " That's 
 your sort! — a guinea for the race! — quiz him. 
 quiz him !" and several other phrases to mc equally 
 iininteHiu,iblc. Another stacjc now rushed bv us, 
 which developed the mystery of our alarming 
 speed, and justly added to the apprehensions of 
 danger entertained by our ladies. " How can'st 
 ihou be so uncivil and so indiscreet:" said Mrs. 
 Placid, in a most earnest, though not angry, 
 tone of voice : " thy office should lead thee to 
 protect the women, and thou hast no feeling iu 
 thus permitting us to be so terrified." The 'squire 
 and the collegian now interfered ; the latter pro- 
 tested he could see neither wit nor galhmtry in 
 tlie action, and the former, with most violent 
 execrations on the driver, kept his head out o'i 
 the opposite window, and commanded him to 
 stop. " i thank thee, most heartily," said Mrs. 
 P. '* but pray refrain thyself from those evil 
 words ; they should never proceed from the 
 mouth of a Christian." The 'squire paid as little 
 regard to her exhortation, as the captain had 
 done to her remonstrances. He continued hip 
 2 
 
THE DISASTER. 43 
 
 rougli address to the driver, without effect, for 
 the captain's guinea offer had entered his heart, 
 whereas the 'squire's words dwelt only on liis ear. 
 Thus we proceeded for about two miles, our wise 
 captain exclaiming every five minutes, " Oh, 
 (he misery of a stage-coach gallop ;" his aunt 
 screaming, and protesting she would never for- 
 give him ; th.e 'squire storming, now in the coach, 
 and then out ; and the rest of the part}' sittin^^ 
 sad and silent, in despair of eflecting any change 
 of measures. But how was even the inconsider- 
 ate captain appalled, when he, beheld the oppo- 
 nent coach dashed to the ground, and the frolic 
 completely ended! *' This is the mJsery, indeed, 
 of a stage-coach gallop," said Mrs. Placid; 
 " surely the man will now stop, that we may 
 render assistance to the poor passengers." He 
 did so, and we all alighted to see the effect of 
 the accident. We were soon happily relieved 
 from our apprehensions of fcxtal consequences, 
 for although every person, both inside and out- 
 side of the coach, had sustained some slight in- 
 jury, there appeared none oF a very serious as- 
 pect. We were not far from a market-town, and 
 it was agreed we should hasten on to send assist- 
 ance for the repair of the coach, harness, &c. 
 which was much needed, the passengers all wallr- 
 ing. The mischief-making captain once more 
 made his exit, and took possession of the bov, 
 rhc rain having ceased, and he, as I imagined. 
 
44 IMPRUDENCE. 
 
 being not willing to encounter the reproaches 
 .which he certainly would have hcMd from each ot 
 our company. 
 
 '^ How many evils/' said our moralizing Mrs. 
 Placid, " do we bring upon ourselves, as if we 
 \vere desirous of multiplying the miseries of hu- 
 man life, of which \ve are ever complaining! If 
 we trace events of a disastrous nature lo their real 
 source, I am persuaded they will much oftener be 
 found to originate in our own folly and miscon- 
 duct, than in the dispensations of that Providence 
 we are so prone to arraign." 
 
 " You are right in die remark," replied Mr. 
 Bustle; " I have met with many disagreeable? in 
 my rime, but truly 1 have nobody more to blame 
 than myself. I set my eldest son up in business 
 when I ought to have known he was too young 
 for it, and he failed, as might have been expect- 
 ed. I ntarried my daughter to a man she told 
 rae she did not like, and 'tis now the grief of my 
 heart to see her unhappy. 1 once broke my leg 
 by attempting a leap in a fox-chase, which none 
 of the party but myself would adventure; and I 
 am constantly- lamenting the loss of muc-h pro- 
 perty by engaging in a law-suit,, which every 
 sensible iViend 1 had in the world advised me to 
 decline." 
 
 When I was admiring the candour which had 
 drawn from our 'squire this lioncst confession of 
 his imprudence, the coach stopped at the inn, 
 
ALIGHTING. 45 
 
 which we now supposed was really destined tor 
 our dinner refreshment. " Thou must not say 
 nnolher word about obstinaci/," said Mrs. Placid, 
 as she gave her band to the country-gentleman 
 assisting her to alight. 
 
46 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 jMrs. Fiacid cvirtcrs her attaclimtiit fo one of King Churles's 
 riiles. The Captain dcclHres the luotive of hi» anions, and 
 Miss Fi'nakin wl)is|iers her sentimtnts. Mrs. Placid m;ikts«)me 
 of the company smile, and licr daiighter meets with an enibar- 
 ra<f!Tient. 'i'lie Scholar talks of amiable weaknesses, iuid iNIrs. 
 Placid explains ihoir nature. A jiointed question aucires^cd lo 
 Miss I''inakin. A few compliments between the widow and th« 
 country-gentleman. 
 
 Perhaps there are few readers who have not 
 experienced that unpleasant sensation in their 
 minds, occasioned by the tiresome repetition of 
 a jest or a story; — such tlien can sympathize 
 with those of our party, who were compelled to 
 hear the word misery dinned in their ears conti- 
 nually, by the captain or Miss Finakin. Every 
 httle accident which iiappened at table was pro- 
 nounced a miscn/, and, in short, to talk o^ mutrif 
 seemed the height of the fashion. " If," said 
 Mrs. Placid to the captain, " I was not attached 
 to that rule, ' repeat no grievances,' I would 
 remind thee of the late miseries which thine in- 
 discretion occasioned ; but I spare thee ; thou 
 art young, and I hope years will iaiprove ihy de- 
 portment. I should, however, much like to 
 
SYMPATHY. 47 
 
 know on wliat principle it is that thou deli^htest 
 thus to dwell upon one theme, unci luuass us with 
 it, when, if thou makest thine observations, thou 
 niayest discover rre (lookin^r at all the [)artv, c 
 eept Miss Finakin) are not interested in thy dis- 
 eourse." — '' Oh, you are for principles and mo- 
 tives, are you?" replied die captain; " uhy 
 then you must know I am actuated by the powers 
 of sympathy, and I am continually guided by 
 fnliug, and the impulses of the moment." — '' I be- 
 lieve thee," replied Mrs. Placid, '' and thou 
 bast in a few words revealed the cause of thv in- 
 discretions. As to the sympathetic emotions, 
 thou dost well to encourage them, provided thou 
 art careful to distinguish the proper grounds of 
 sympathy, for in many cases sympathy would be 
 less suitable than reasoning or exhortation ; and 
 though we are commanded to ' weep with those 
 that weep, and to rejoice with those that rejoice,' 
 we are not enjoined to humour ridiculous fancies, 
 and feel for imaginary evils with which our 
 friends arc often perplexed." Miss Finakin, who 
 sat close to her nephew, whispered somethino- 
 which reached the ear of Mrs. Ftacid, whose 
 every faculty was alive and active; a faint colour 
 passed over her cheek, which convinced me that 
 whatever it might be, it had somewhat affected 
 the mind of the tair quaker. Mr. Bust/e noticed 
 the whisper, and possibly the effect, for he in- 
 stantly said, " I hate whispering in company, 
 
48 THE HEPUOOF. 
 
 and sliouUi have thought a hidy of 3 our fashion 
 would have known politeness better: — if what 
 you said was worth hearing, let all the conipany 
 hear it." Miss F. looked confused, and protested 
 she had only made a remark to her neighbour 
 respecting something at table. " Nay/' said Mrs, 
 Flacid, " 1 entreat thou w ilt not utter an untruth 
 upon the occasion. I heard wliat thou saidst ; 
 tliy words were — ' Who talks of feeling and sym- 
 piithy to plebeian minds r' I perfectly understood 
 their meaning — thou art of opinion that the wi- 
 dow of a tobacconis.t knows nothing of sensibili- 
 ties." — '* Oh ! the miseries of an overheard whis- 
 per!'' cried our young collegian ; and Mr. Bustle 
 burst forth into a laugh, in which, though not 
 possessed of very risible features, I could not help 
 joining. Mrs. Placid seemed by no means de- 
 sirous of enjoying the lady's confusion, and now 
 suffered her attention to be entirely engrossed by 
 her dinner. This being necessarily soon dis- 
 patched, we were summoned by our coachman; 
 and as some dilViculty arose respecting silver to 
 discharge our little account, Mrs. P. applied to 
 Rachel, who, as she said, had a few shilhngs in 
 her pocket, Rachel, however, informed us she 
 had not one; and wit'a a look of confusion, added 
 repeated attestations of her poverty. " Folly; 
 child!" said Mrs. V. "to repeat thy words ;^ 
 thou h.ast &<nd thou hast no money." Matters 
 were soon adjusted, and we onee more ascended 
 
THE GKEEN BAG. ^y 
 
 our vehicle. The captain again took an outside 
 place, though the young student verv polite! v of- 
 fered to take his turn: his refusal/ 1 suspected 
 arose from his want of liking to our party, which 
 certainly could not be very congenial to 'the fed- 
 ■ ings of so fine a gentleman. 
 
 After we had been seated a fexv minutes, I dis- 
 covered an air of reflection in Mrs. P/acid's 
 countenance, and a slight movement of her lips 
 as though she were enumerating figures; she sooii 
 turned to Mac/ief, and in alow voice said, - Why 
 child, how is ii that thou hast no money ? Thy 
 aunt Hester gave thee a new shilling on third 
 day, and thou at that time shewed me two six- 
 pences, beside the half-crown which thy uncle 
 Jeremiah made thee a present of, for knittin- his 
 . g-nrters." Machel blushed deeply, but mad^ no 
 reply-." Hast thou a hole in thy pocket r rejoined 
 her mother, who now seemed resolved to dive into 
 the bottom of the mystery—^^ Not that I know 
 of," replied Rachel^'' Besides," sj^id Mrs. Pla- 
 cid, " I recollect now, thy money was in a little 
 green bag; thou must have thrown it out with 
 thy pocket-handkerchief; how couldest thou be 
 so careless r'-« In a little green bag?" repeated 
 Miss FinaMn; '^ dear ! I saw a dirtv child mck 
 up something that looked like a bag, just as we 
 came out of the inn after breakfast. I dare sav 
 It was your's, and you drew it out of your pocke't 
 just^ then." - Very likely," replied Rachd- 
 
^0 OBJV.CTs or CHAKITY. 
 
 " J'vrt/ liJtely '/'' echoed ^f^s. P/acifl ; '''and art 
 thou so ur. -onccrned iti the business? I do not 
 wish thee to he a nioiicy-lover, but thou must 
 learn to know its proper value, and not lose it so 
 carelessly ; four and sixpence is worth thy consi- 
 deration. 1 hope thou art sorry tor thy loss." — 
 Rachel was silent — " ^^ hy dost thou not answer 
 iTie ? Art thou not concerned at the loss of thy 
 money r" Rachel was still silent: — ]Mrs. P/acid's 
 face now bore some expression of displeasure, 
 and again addressing herself to Rachel, " Thou 
 art in an unusual humour," said she ; " there is 
 some mystery in this loss of the money, and I in- 
 sist on thy telling me the truth.'' " If," replied 
 Rachel, " J had dared to have told a falsehood, 
 I would have said [ teas sorry for the loss of the 
 money, and then thou wouldest liave ceased from 
 more inquiries: but as thou commandcst me to 
 tell the truth, I must say that as we came out of the 
 inn, after breakfast, an old blind man asked cha- 
 rity — oh ! mother, if thou hadst seen him, thou 
 wouldest never have forgotten him — his head 
 shook, and his hands too, ju^t like poor Obadiah 
 x'.ho stands at the meeting door, but then he is 
 not blind. Me had scarcely any clothes to cover 
 him, and a ragged little girl only to lead him 
 about. I did drop the green bag on purjiose for 
 her to pick up, and I saw her do it." " Heaven 
 applaud the action !" exclaimed our youth, whilst 
 his eyes beamed a look of pleasure on Jxcchel, — 
 
BENEVOLENT FEELINGS. 51 
 
 Mrs. Placid smiled.—" Well/' said she, " 1 ;im 
 guid thou canst give so good aq account of tliy 
 green bag." '^ But/' said Miss Finakin, " four 
 and sixpence is too much to give a common bco- 
 gar; why did you part \\\\\\ alt your treasurer" 
 "I don't discommend thee," said her mother; 
 "but, as our iVi ends say, we must act prudoruiv, 
 even in our ahns-giving, and |)roporfion our ciia- 
 rities to the occasion.' " I only v/ish thou hadit 
 seen him," rephed Macliel.—" An observatiua 
 dropped from you, madam, at dinner,'' said the 
 collegian, "miplying th.it feelings and impulses 
 were improper guides for actions-^ now surely this 
 conduct of your daughter must be made an ex- 
 ception." " By no means," returned Mrs. P • 
 
 '' i hope, when she is advanced in years and 
 judguicn!;, she will not permit even her bcnevo- 
 lent fcelinu;s to misguide her. The great art in 
 morals is discrimination, and the person who acts 
 wiih generosity, is only to be commended wl'.eti 
 it is not done at the expense of otiier vhtues." 
 " It IS then, I suppose, to be termed * an amiable 
 weakness,' as the novelists say," replied the voutii. 
 " I believe," said Mrs. P. " those amfablv; "weak- 
 nesses have done much hnrm to society; thev 
 sce,/i to have a claim, 1 will aliovv,^ even to our 
 love; but when they are properly viewed, in all 
 their just bearings and connexions, they liavc 
 only a claim upon our pity and our candour." 
 "' Would not this be termed rigid morality by the 
 
52 IMPULSES REGULATED. 
 
 world in general r" rejoined tlie scholar. " Pos- 
 sibl)' it might," replied Mrs. P. " but there is 
 only one kind of moralist in the world, who is 
 qualified to decide upon the Trgument, and that 
 is the Christian moralist. He has a standard to 
 appeal to, whereaii the philosophical and worldly 
 moralist takes his system from the taste and fa- 
 shion of the times in which he lives, and conse- 
 quently frequently calls ' evil good, and good 
 evil.'" — •' Away then with impulses and feeling?, 
 you will sa}', madam, I suppose," rejoined the 
 hUidenr, who seemed resolved to pursue the de- 
 bate. " I should say a very silly thing then," re- 
 turned Mrs. P. " for we must ever possess feel- 
 ings and impulses, from the constitution of our 
 natures; they are doubtless implanted tiiere for 
 wise and good purposes. All we have to do, is 
 to regulate them by the rules of reason and Chris- 
 tianity : let every impulse and feeling be brought 
 to the test of scripture ; if they can be proved 
 agreeable to that, we may yield to their sugges- 
 tions, but if not, we must strive against them, 
 and seek by prayer the effectual grace to over- 
 come them. I make no doubt but the indiscre- 
 tions of the young man on the outside originate, 
 in a "-reat degree, from his compliances with the 
 impulses of the moment, as 1 hinted to him at 
 
 dinner." 
 
 "Bless me!" cried Miss Fuiahin, *' who can 
 set old heads upon young shoulders:" " No 
 
 4 
 
A SOBER YOUTH. 5.'3 
 
 one," returned Mrs. P. " with certainty of suc- 
 cess ; but it becomes the old heads to make the at- 
 ttrnpt." " I do not wish," rejoined Miss Firiuklji, 
 " to see iny nephew that spiritless creature call- 
 ed a sober youth." — " I am shocked at ihy ob- 
 servation/' said Mrs. Placid. — *' What ! dost thou 
 desire thy nephew's health, morals, and fortune 
 to be ruined ^ which will certainly be the case if 
 he is not a sober youth." Miss F. hesitated, as 
 unwilling to avow the conclusion Mrs. P. had 
 fairl}' drawn from her remark ; yet loth to yield 
 up her sentiment, at length she observed, " There 
 is a medium in all things ; a person may be lively 
 and fashionable, without being immoral." '' I am 
 happy," returned Mrs. Placid, " to see there is 
 not a sentence in scripture which forbids inno- 
 cent gaiety, and habitual cheerfulness, both 
 which qualities are as opposite to /evii-/ as light is 
 to darkness. But I doubt how far fashion and 
 morality may agree. I hear strange things of fa- 
 shionable people. I hear they break the sabbatli,and 
 take God's holy name in vain, that they compli- 
 ment at the expense of truth and sincerity ; that 
 they misapply terms, calling profusion genero- 
 sity, justice scrupulosity, and tenderness of con 
 science cow^ardice. I say, I hear these things of 
 the fashionable world — thou art from tlience ; am 
 I rightly informed in this matter ?" 
 
 A smile played on the features of our collei^ian, 
 m which might be read the thought which shot. 
 f3 
 
54 VENIAL FA'JLTS. 
 
 across his mind — "O! the misery of a pointc-d 
 question which we are unable to answer !" but he 
 said nothinof, only glanced his eyes on Miss Fina- 
 hin, as waiting for her reply. ^'^ Really/' said she, 
 *' T do not make such critical remarks as you, ma- 
 dam, seem disposed to. "I make no doubt there 
 are many litth triors amongst us, but in general 
 there is, I believe, as much goodness of heart in 
 the fashionable part of society, as in any other ;" 
 — " Very likely," returned her fair antagonist; " I, 
 who believe the doctrine of the universality of 
 human depravity, cannot dispute about goodness 
 of hearts." — " 1 don't understand you," said Miss 
 Finakin. " I will explain my meaning," returned 
 Mrs. Placid. " Thou talkcst of little orrors, 
 which thou art willing to allow exist in the fa- 
 sliionable world, and yet speakest of their pos- 
 sessing goodness of heart ; from whence then pro- 
 ceed their errors?" Miss Finakin wsis. silent for 
 a fe.v minutes, and then replied that there was no 
 conversation she hated so much as argument, 
 and very quietly yielded the palm of victory to 
 Mrs. Placid. The young student, however, not 
 being satisfied with the conclusion of the debate, 
 took up the cause Miss Finaki/i had relinquished. 
 " Madam," said he, ''you surely do not ascribe 
 every error v/hich we poor mortals connnit to de- 
 pravity of heart ?" — " 1 should commit a great one 
 myself," replied the quakcr, ** if 1 did so. No, 
 there are errors in the licad^ as well as the heart ; 
 
HUMAN DEPRAVITY. 55 
 
 there are errors in judgment, proceeding from 
 misconception of truth, from wrong education, 
 from particular situations in life, and various other 
 causes; and their effects have often proved inju- 
 rious to society. But every individual is in the 
 hands of an all-seeing Being, who is intimately 
 acquainted with the cause of his errors, and who 
 will doubtless proportion his condemnation to the 
 faults of his creatures. We must not, in speaking 
 on this subject, soften terms : s/n of every kind 
 proceeds from innate depravity, though error may 
 «ot, — and thou wilt recollect 1 spoke of sins in the 
 report I had heard of the fashionable world — that 
 is, particularly, contempt of the sabbath, and the 
 name of God — both which are tumsgressions of 
 his law." 
 
 " I am satisfied with your explanrition," replied 
 the collegian. '' This doctrine of universal de- 
 pravity is extremely grating to one's feeliiigs, and 
 humiliating to one's pride; — but I must not, as a 
 candidate for churcli-orders, dispute it." — " i aai 
 glad to hear thee any so," said Mrs. P. 
 
 "Hey! what! how! what arc you all saying:'' 
 said Mr. Biisile, rousing himself Irom a nap into 
 which he had fallen as soon as tiie coach had 
 drove from the inn. " L.idies, I beg pardon, I'm 
 so used to my nap after dinner, that I can't do 
 without it." — "A bad custom, friend," said Mrs. 
 Fiacid, " tljou art not old enough for the indul- 
 gence ; it v/astes thy i'mic, and may injure thy 
 
56 A BAD CUSTOM. 
 
 health." ISFr. Biislk took the reproof in good 
 part; indeed, he looked as though the former clause 
 of the widow's observation had more than recon- 
 ciled him to the latter. He rubbed his eyes, shook 
 his head, and advanced forward on his seat — " 1 
 recollect," said he, " that you promised us a little 
 more of your history before we parted ; now if you 
 %vill have the goodness to begin, 1 will promise to 
 keep awake; indeed 1 almost wonder how I could 
 fall asleep while you were talking." 
 
 No mark of displeasure appeared in the counte- 
 nance of the fair widow on account of the peculiar 
 emphasis which the 'squire had laid on the word 
 i/ou. She instantly complied with his request, as 
 may be seen in the next chapter. 
 
57 
 
 CHAP. VL 
 
 Mrs. Placid resumes her history. Her .account of a Leioved 
 iiiotiier. Thb 'squiie's plan of efiucatioii for a tradesman. 
 Mrs. Piacid's plan for ditto. The scholar's iliiberality, and 
 the widow's candour, on a question of character. The sort 
 of cheat wliich the country-gentleman would not prosecute. 
 Miss Finakin much disturbed in mind, and oppressed in bod3', 
 by a very common incident in travelling. The feelings of 
 the gentle Eachel exercised in no common degree. She de- 
 clares herself miserable. 
 
 " My affliction," said J\lrs. Placid, " for the loss 
 of my husband, was much alleviated, in a tempo- 
 ral point of view, by my being enabled, with the 
 assistance of a steady youth, an apprentice, to 
 carry on our business ; and I have already men- 
 tioned the sources I enjoyed, in a spiritual one, 
 of consolation, from his pious character, and pros- 
 pects as to eternity. The plain path of duty 
 now lay before me, which was to cease from una- 
 vailing grief, and exert all my energies for the 
 good of my family." 
 
 " Energies!" repeated I; "it has been muck 
 the fashion of late to talk of energies ; you, ma- 
 dam, seem to have acquired the happy art of 
 
58 ENERGIES. 
 
 practising them." — " 1 have been enabled to do 
 so," replied Mrs. P. — " thanks to Hitn who gave 
 me mv energetic powers, and the disposition to 
 e.xert them. The greatest difficulty -l had now to 
 struggle with, was the increasing weakness and in- 
 firmities of my dear motlier. Soon after the 
 death of my husband, she became so weak in her 
 limbs, as to be confined almost entirely to her 
 bed : every moment I could spare from my other 
 concerns, was devoted to her ; and yet all were in- 
 sufficient to alleviate, in the manner I wished, her 
 calamity, and sooth her aged sorrows. But here 
 Providence was gracious to both of us, in preserv- 
 ing, in a wonderful degree, her precious intellects, 
 so that her society was still a source of happmess, 
 and her counsel of inexpressible service. Ex- 
 cuse me, my friends, if 1 dwell a little upon the 
 memory of one so dear to me ; my mother was no 
 common character; she possessed intellectual and 
 moral endowments, rarely centering in one per- 
 son. The former-were highly cultivated by an ex- 
 cellent education, and the latter received a double 
 lustre in being united to evangelical holiness of 
 lieart and life. Oh ! w hat care did she take to instil 
 into my ini-nd those principles she so consistently 
 acted u[)on, and to inform me all in which she was 
 herself informed! Surely a good and sensible 
 mother is the greatest blessing heaven can 
 bestow ! — Rachel, dost thou remember much of 
 thy grandmother r" — " Vcs, mother," replied lia- 
 
MATERNAL INSTRUCTION'S. 59 
 
 chel, " I well remember how she used to sit up iti 
 her bed, with her spectacles on, reading to us; 
 then she would take them off, and talk to us, 
 explaining what she had been reading, though I 
 forget what it was now : but I remember how I 
 used to like to hear her."— '^ Yes,'' said Mrs. 
 Placid, " 1 know she used to do thus ; and thy 
 brother and sister, who were older, understood all 
 she said: she read in this manner to them the 
 history of England, and that more important his- 
 tory—the history of the Bible; and by her means 
 I was much relieved in the care of instructino- 
 their young minds. In this manner we went on 
 for seven years, in which time our apprentice had 
 served liis term, and I took him as partner in the 
 business. Our business procured us all the neces- 
 saries, though none of the superfluities, of life. 
 My son was now twelve years of age, and I in- 
 dulged the hope of placing him in the business 
 when he should be fifteen." — "Too young" — in- 
 terrupted the 'squire; " I will venture a wager you 
 repented of this; I found mij son too young for 
 business at eighteen." — " There can be no certain 
 rule laid down for this matter," returned Mrs. 
 Placid; " every thing depends on the disposition 
 of the youth, and the mode of education." — '' As 
 to education," rejoined Mr. Bustle, " my mistake 
 did not lie there, for I ga\?e him as good an educa- 
 tion as any youth within fifty miles, the Parsons 
 son not excepted ; and though I never learnt a 
 
OO THE ROAD TO UANKRUPTCY. 
 
 sentence of latin or greek myself, 1 took care that 
 lie should. I sent him to the first c/wss/cr// school, 
 as it was called, in the coiinly, and he took to his 
 learning at a fine rate ; the master assured me 
 that he was the cleverest lad in the school. \ let 
 him stay there till he was seventeen, that he might 
 liave enough of it, and then placed him one year 
 with a friend in the wholesale linen-drapery busi- 
 ness; hut I found at the end of that time, when I 
 had hoped to see him succeed in the business for 
 himself, that he was too young. I was silly 
 enough though to set him up, and he failed in less 
 than two years."-—" Perhaps he was wild and dis- 
 sipated, sir," replied the collegian — "The farthest 
 from it in the world," rejoined Mr. Bustle — "ho 
 was only too young to know the value of money 
 and a good business. ^A hy, I was told by 
 persons who I knew would not deceive me, that 
 many a time when he should have been ia the 
 warehouse, to have seen how matters were going 
 on, he was found up stairs, poring over his 
 school-books, one of the coldest days in winter, 
 with his fire quite out, and one foot of his chair 
 within side of the fender." — " Friend," saitl ^Irs. 
 Placid, " thou hast certainly mistaken the caia^e 
 of thy son's failure ia business; it was not his 
 youth, but liis disposition, which occasioned it ; — 
 and I wonder thou hadst not penetration enough 
 to see that a yoiuig man who delighted so much 
 in study and books, was unfit for a linen-draper. 
 
THE STUDE.NT. 6l 
 
 Thou didst not educate hhn for trade." *' Truly," 
 replied Mr. Bustle, " there is some truth in your 
 remark, which never struck me before." — I was 
 anxious to know the pursuits of the 'squire's son 
 at present, therefore made inquiry. — '* Studying 
 the law," said he, " in the Temple — the law^ 
 
 which / hate as I do the . I won't say who 
 
 before the ladies — but nothing would do but he 
 must " study the law,'' as he called it." " Let 
 no father then," returned I, " who hates cither of 
 the learned professions, venture to send his son to 
 a classical school." Mrs. Placid now proceeded 
 in her narration : — " I instructed my son in the 
 best. manner I was able, till he was ten years of 
 age, and then sent liim to a school in our 
 connexion, which was more immediately cal- 
 culated for youths designed for trade ; the im- 
 provements he made in that particular branch of 
 information were surprising; and as he was re- 
 markably steady and diligent, I entertained no 
 fears respecting the propriety of admitting him 
 into the business at fifteen; but anticipated with 
 pleasure the time when 1 might with prudence 
 withdraw myself from the concern : — for J dis- 
 liked business extremely, being somewhat of the 
 disposition of thy son, (looking at the 'squire,) 
 fond of books and reflection. I was frequently 
 cheated by my more wary connexions, and I be- 
 lieve, had not my partner been in this respect a 
 perfect contrast to myself, I should have been in 
 
 G 
 
G2 AN HONEST THADLSMAN. 
 
 the condition oftliy son also, at tlie end oftt\o 
 years. What an insight may the tradesman gain 
 of human nature ! It appears to me ahiiost im- 
 possible for sucli to be ignorant of their own 
 hearts, or the hearts of others. Money transac- 
 tions seem to call forth every lurking depravity, 
 and unfold the secrets of character." 
 
 "I have heard it remarked," said the student, 
 "that an honest tradesman is a sort of PhcEnix, 
 and really I'm inclined to be of that opinion." 
 *' Don't yield to unchariiable surmises, friend," 
 returned Mrs. P. " an honest man is no Phoenix, 
 I have known many; but remember, thou must 
 never look for a consistent course of fairness in 
 dealing, to any but the christinn tradesman. The 
 temptations to evasion and chicanery which con- 
 tinually assail the tradesman, are innumerable, 
 and scarcely to be imagined by any who have not 
 experienced them. Exercise thy candour, my 
 young friend, towards those who fall by trials, of 
 which thou hast no idea, and never expect to stand 
 thine own ground in any situation in life, but on 
 the firm foundation of religious principles." 
 
 " If," said Mr. Bustle, " you were cheated, I 
 believe you are the first of your sect who ever was 
 
 so By King George, I would forgive any man 
 
 who clieated a quaker !" 
 
 " The general cliarasteristic of our people is 
 prudence and circumspection," replied Mrs. Pla- 
 cid : "■ it is therefore not surprising that they 
 
A ROUGH RO,AD. 0;3 
 
 jlioiikl not be very open to imposition," '• But 
 they are good bargain makers," rejoined the 
 'squire; " 1 never heard of one yet, who did not 
 come pretty close upon us in that way." " Which 
 doubtless (if there is any truth in thy obser- 
 vation) arises fiom the characteristic trait just 
 mentioned," returned Mrs. P. " Some moralists 
 have said that tiie extremes of virtue verge on the 
 borders of vice ; and in resj)ect of these two, I 
 am inclined to be of that opinion : and it be- 
 hoves those remarkable for their prudence and 
 circumspection, to beware of deceit and unjust sus~ 
 picion." " Go on, madam, if you please," said 
 Mr. Bustle, " I ask pardon for interrupting you 
 so often." 
 
 Mrs. Placid was about to proceed, when Miss 
 Finaldn dechued she was almost dead with the 
 horrid roughness of the road, and expressed her 
 surprise at what could have occasioned it. — " We 
 have gone on so smoothly within," observed the 
 'squire/' that I have felt nothing of the roughness 
 wiiliout. O!" said he, looking out of the win- 
 dow, " 'tis only the road mended with large stones, 
 which want a little rubbing down." "Pray, then, 
 request the man to drive a little slower," said Miss 
 F. '' or I shall absolutely die with fatigue." " I 
 wish," observed Mrs. Placid, " thou wouldest 
 . not accustom thyself to such strong expressions; 
 they are very unseemly, as well as improper: 
 reflect a moment on the absurdity of saying thou 
 
64 THE riG ! THE no ! 
 
 must die with fatigue in passing over a few rouu,h 
 stones." — " The lady," remarked the collegian, 
 " has thought so iniicli of miseries, that 'tis no 
 wonder she should imagine one in a few rough 
 stones:" then looking out, he called to the coach- 
 man, and desired him to drive slowly, as he regard- 
 ed the life of one of his passengers. The man 
 obeyed the injunction, hut Miss F. did not look 
 very well pleased at the banter; she muttered 
 something about not being accustomed to stage- 
 coaches, and that those who were, might disre- 
 gard their inconveniences. 
 
 Mrs. Placid once more seemed inclined to pro- 
 ceed in her narrative, when another interruption 
 was occasioned by her daughter's screaming out, 
 "O the pig! the pig! he will be run over, I'm 
 sure he will." We were instantly convinced, by 
 theories of the poor animal, that Rachel's fe;us 
 were not groundless: she looked out, and then, in 
 an agony of distress, threw herself back on her 
 seat. "Oh, mother!" said she, " the wheels are 
 gone over him — I saw them: he is in the road — 
 oh dear! what can be done!" — " Don't agitate 
 thyself so much, child," replied Mrs. P. " I'll call 
 to the man." — She did so—" Friend, thou hast 
 been so heedless as to suffer thy w heels t.o run over 
 a pig — wilt thou be so kind as to stop, that we 
 may examine the hurt ?"— " I stop for a pig!"' re- 
 turned the man — " no! though 1 had run over a 
 hundred !"—•" A sad unfeeling driver," said Mrs- 
 
THE SQUABBLE. 6j 
 
 P. as she drew her head back into the coach ; 
 *' perhaps he may heed an expostulation from thee 
 (looking at the 'squire) more than from me." INIr. 
 ihistlc, who seemed ever wiiling to compl}' with 
 the wishes of his fair friend, now presented his 
 face to the coach-box, and with an halloo^ which 
 made every ear tingle, demanded why the lady's 
 request was not attended to ? 
 
 The man returned an insolent answer, w^iich 
 irritated the 'squire to such a degree, that he ut- 
 tered the most improper words, and vented sad 
 execrations on the coachman. The interest of 
 the poor pig was entirely lost in the warmth of 
 the debate, which was carried on for some mi- 
 nutes, and would have lasted much longer, had 
 not Mrs. Placid, with entreaties, and tuirs at the 
 coat of Mr. Bustle, at length prevailed on him to 
 return his head into the machine — "Alasl" said 
 she, " how is every little incident made an occa- 
 sion for sin ! J. wish I had not requested thy inter- 
 ference." Rachel burst into tears—" Thou art 
 going to be as silly," said her mother, *' as thou 
 wast about thy dog. Every thing has been done 
 in the matter that can be done; make thyself 
 easy." A coach now passed which occasioned a 
 stop, the two drivers having something to say to 
 each other—" Perhaps that man,'' said liadie^, 
 eagerly, " may not be so hard-hearted ; " thea 
 looking at the collegian with an expression which 
 spokcj ' I wish thou wouldest try,' he understooi 
 G :j 
 
66 HUMANITY. 
 
 her: ''Hark ye, master/' said he to the coach- 
 man, " we have had tiie misfortune to drive over 
 a pig a little above, I wish you would give an eye 
 as you pass."—" And what then, sir?" replied the 
 man; "if he's dead I can't bring him to life again." 
 ■~" True,'* rejoined the scholar ; " but you may 
 make some inquiry amongst the cottagers, and if 
 he belongs to any of them, they will see about 
 him, and put him out of his misery if he is not 
 dead." " Do so," added Rachel, " we shall be so 
 obliged to tliee." And then looked at the youth 
 •with an air which spoke, " Thou hast rendered me 
 a most important service." 
 
 " I do not wish," said Mrs Placid to her dau'di- 
 ter, " to discourage thy tender feelings towards 
 the brute creation ; for 1 am somewhat of the opi- 
 nion of the poet Cozcper, and would Jiot enter on 
 my list of friends, 
 
 " (Tliough grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, 
 
 " Yet vv;inting sensibility) the man 
 
 " Who Heedlessly sets foot upon a worni." 
 
 " It is thy weak side, thou hasr often made th\'- 
 self miserable at these kinds of accidents." " I 
 feel so at this moment," returned Rachel, " and 
 would give any thing to know what will become 
 of the poor pig." " Folly !" returned her mother, 
 *' to make no distinction in thy sensibilities I thou 
 couldest not say more had we rini over a human 
 being !" 
 
 Happy for thee, Rachel, thought I, that thou 
 
RACHEL REPROVED. CjJ 
 
 luist a mother to controul the weakness of thy 
 character, and watch over tliy sensibilities. Thou 
 seemest to have every requisite to form an lieroine 
 for romance, and such quahties might become 
 fatal to thy peace in youth, and destroy the use- 
 fulness of th}' riper years. 
 
 Rachel's face still wore an air of sadness, but 
 lier mother ceased from farther reproof, and pro- 
 ceeded with her narrative for some time without 
 more interruption, as follows. 
 
68 
 
 CHJP. Vll. 
 
 yiii. riacitl's history cont'mucJ. Mi's Finaliin repairs to her salts 
 ill coi)SPf)\ience of the wtMkiicts ot' her nerves. S'.ie ruieives 
 an atiront, and an sipolojrv- Mrs. Placid gives her opinion on 
 christian experiences at lire hoiu of death. She declares lier- 
 »clf to be no Stoic. The 'squire pronounces upon the projier 
 titoe and place for ladies to speak. The scholar makes a 
 pointed appeal on the same subject to Mrs. Placid. Slie is 
 sei:;ed witli a niysterious dcatntss ; but, we are liappy to say, 
 recovers sufficiently to proceed witli her narrative. 
 
 " I PERCEIVED," said Mrs. Tlacid, *' with 
 great concern, that inj beloved mother declined 
 dailj; and at the close ofthe seventh year after 
 her confinement to her chamber, 1 had reason to 
 conclude the hour of her dissolution drew near. 
 About tliis time a distant relation of my husband 
 loft me SOO/. which seemed most providential, for 
 my expenses increased in consequence of my mo- 
 ther's illness, and a little more capital in my bu- 
 siness was very desirable. 
 
 " My partner was out upon a journey when I 
 received my legacy, and i waited his return to 
 consult on the best plan of employing it. I put 
 it in the private drawer of a writing desk in mv 
 mother's chamber, whose increasing illness now 
 
A DISMAL STORY. 6'J 
 
 engaged almost the whole of my attention. Her 
 nurse had sat up with her tor a fortnight, and 1 
 tliought it necessary she should have some re- 
 pose, and relaxation from her fatigue. I there- 
 fore resolved to take her place for a niglu or two, 
 by tiie dying-bed of my dear parent. It v»cis a 
 dark and dismal evening when 1 first entered upon 
 the painful oftice; my spirits, as may be imagined, 
 were much depressed; and though never super- 
 stitious, I could scarcely refrain from the dread 
 of some supernatural power, which, if ever at 
 work to terrify us poor mortals, I conceived must 
 at such a time be exercised. I read a psalm to 
 her of her own choosing, and afterwards prayed, 
 as I had been moved to do frequently, at iier 
 bed-side. 1 then gave her a composing draught ; 
 and I took up a serious book, which was written 
 in a style of entertainment, as well as instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 " I counted the clock, as I believe is usual with 
 persons in my situation, wiili anxious wishes that 
 time could be more rapid in its flight. Just as it 
 had finished the stroke of two, I itiiagined I heard 
 a gentle step moving across the passage, which 
 was under the chamber." 
 
 " Gracious powers!" exclaimed M'lSi Finakin, 
 " you terrify me to death by your descriptions; I 
 beg you will not dwell upon tliis horrid story." 
 
 " I am not conscious of making a very terri- 
 fying description," returned Mrs. Placid, " and 
 
70 WEAK NERVES. 
 
 thou seest I am alive to tell the story, so that thou 
 needest not to be so alarmed." Miss F. took out 
 lier salts from a little bar; she had placed in the 
 pocket of the coach, disdaining the convenience 
 of one at her side, and Mrs. Plucid proceeded. 
 
 " I attentively listened to hear if the sound was 
 .repeated, but all was silent for some time. I re- 
 proached myself for my timidity, and began to 
 reason myself out of it, when I again heard ano- 
 ther footstep, which I was convinced was upon 
 the stairs. I sprung forward to fasten the cham- 
 ber door, but before I could reach it, it was open- 
 ed by a tall man with a mask on his face, and he 
 was followed by another." 
 
 Miss Finakin screamed, and again applied her 
 salts. " Do you fine ladies," said the 'squire, 
 " always make this uproar when you hear a dis- 
 mal story r" — " Those who liave any nerves, most 
 certainly,'' replied the lady — '' Astonishing then," 
 obseived the collegian, " that they should en- 
 courage so much the modern publications which 
 treat chiefly of horrors, a thousand times more 
 terrific than vvhat is now relating] But pray, ma- 
 dan),'' to Mrs. P. " proceed, for 1 wish to know 
 what you did in this situation." — " Nothing," re- 
 plied Mrs. P. " could be done but to glance an 
 eye upwards, and address myself to my Maker 
 and Preserver, which I instantly did, and am con- 
 vinced my j)rayer was as instantly answered.'* — 
 " Praver, indeed, in such circumstances !" said 
 
THE BURGLARY. 7} 
 
 ^ Miss Finakin; -who, in the name of uonder, be- 
 sides yourself, could think of prayiug at the'mo- 
 ment two ruffians entered their chamber!"--'^ Ail " 
 returned Mrs. P. - who are acquainted with the 
 nature and true spirit of prayer. Our's is a God 
 ever near, and we are ;;cm/«.^, nay, even com. 
 manded, to call upon him in the moment of dis- 
 tress and difficulty."-." [ hope," rejoined Mi.s 
 Finakin, « you have not forgotten your prayer on 
 this occasion, for it might be useful to others; as 
 you say it was immediately answered." I saw 
 clearly this speech of Miss ^ Buakin was intended 
 for an attempt at irony, and not expressive of any 
 wish to hear the quakei's prayer-but Mrs. Placid 
 not so understanding it, gravely answered, - I 
 marvel thou shouldest suppose any thing so unna- 
 tural as my using a form of words at such a June 
 ture. My prayer was entirely mental, and wholly 
 unconnected ; it is therefore out of my power to 
 repeat it. The support which [ was aflorded was 
 presence of mind, and fortitude. I was enabled' 
 to address the men in nearly these terms: 
 — " Ye have both entered my house at this time, 
 doubtless with an intention of robbery— be kind- 
 hearted on the occasion— and especially consider 
 the poor old woman who is in that bed in a dyin^r 
 , state, for if she awakes and sees you, it may has- 
 |ten her end."-" We will do you no harm," re- 
 I plied one of the men, softened, no doubt, by my 
 words, " unless you make a disturbance— but you 
 
72* THE SECRKT DRAWER. 
 
 must give us all your money unci plate." — " As to 
 jjale," replied I, " [ liave not an ounce in my 
 possession beside the silver spoons which arc be- 
 low, and which, perhaps, ye have secured al- 
 ready; there are a few guineas in that writing- 
 desk, with which I hope ye will be content, and 
 depart instantly." One of the men sat down by 
 me, and the other demanded the key of the desk. 
 I vvi'.s standing, but he obliged me to sit down, 
 and said if I stirred a foot I should repent it — I 
 said I must stir if my mother awaked, otherwise I 
 would be still. My greatest fear was the eflect 
 their appearance might have on her; and my 
 greatest hope was that they would not disoovtr a 
 drawer in the writing desk most artfully contrived, 
 where I had deposited my 30()/. but, alas ^ my 
 hopes were abortive; for in a few minutes the 
 dt-sk was complete!}' rummaged, and I saw the 
 bank notes all secured in the pocket of the raaa 
 who opened it." — ** But, mother," interru|ited 
 Rachel, " uncle .Jeremiah says they never W()uld 
 have found out that drawer if thou hadst not told 
 them." — " What does thine uncle Jeremiah know 
 of the matter r" replied Mrs. P. " was it likely i 
 should tell them of the drawer.'" She was then 
 proceeding, but liac/ul was resolved the busi- 
 ness should be thoroughly sifted — " Uncle," saiil 
 she, " was telling the story a few weeks ago to 
 some of our friends, and he said he knew all 
 about it — that the robbers asked thee over ami 
 4 
 
THE BOLD REPROOF. 7;^ 
 
 over, whether there was not a private drawer in 
 the desk, and thou kept silence because thou wast 
 afraid of an untruth; so then they went on search- 
 ing till tliey found it. And'' '' Well, well, 
 
 child," said Mrs. Placid, " thou hast no occasion 
 to say so much on the business, and interrupt my 
 discourse— ;//0M wast in bed and fast asleep when 
 it happened. 1 was fearful," continued Mrs. 
 Placid, " that the men would have taken my 
 household hnen, and wearing apparel; but they 
 were not permitted to go such lengths. When 
 they had taken all the money and bills, they pro- 
 posed to each other to go— I looked at them with 
 a steady countenance, " Remember," said I, " the 
 eye of God is upon you, and that ye have robbed 
 the fatherless and :he widow." The one who had 
 taken the treasure, instantly put his hand into his 
 pocket." ^' Never, sure," interrupted Miss Fina- 
 km, " was any thing so imprudent as to make 
 such a speech— I should have expected to have 
 had my brains blown out ; I make no doubt but he 
 drew a pistol from his pocket after you had thus 
 affronted him." « I expected no such thing,'' 
 replied Mrs. Placid; " 1 considered it as my duty 
 to say a word or two calculated to strike their 
 minds, in the hope that some good effect might 
 at some future time arise from it. I took care 
 that it should not be spoken in an offensive man- 
 ner ; and I am always assured that the path of duty 
 is the path of safety. What good effect my words 
 
 H 
 
74 GENEROSITY IN THIEVES. 
 
 may take upon either of them cannot be known , 
 but they drew down an instant blessing on my 
 own head : for to my great surprise tlie man put 
 two of the bills into my hand, and withotit either 
 of them saying another word, they departed. 
 The bills were each twenty pounds, a sum which 
 exactly reimbursed me in the additional expenses 
 of my mother's illness. As soon as [ heard them 
 leave the house, I alarmed my maid-servant and 
 the shop-boy, that we might go down and secure 
 the doors. Had 1 been disposed on this occasion 
 to murmur at the dispensation of providence, my 
 murmurs would have been silenced, as in this 
 matter, like many otliers, the blame was due only 
 to myself. I had neglected to see a window fas- 
 tened, and I felt conscious that I had been guilty 
 of the same neglect before ; so that my just pu- 
 nishment had been delayed beyond what I had 
 any right to have expected. When we returned 
 up stairs, I had the happiness to find my mother 
 just awaked, wholly unconscious of what had hap- 
 pened, nor was it necessary that she should he 
 informed." " Surprising," said Miss Finakin, 
 " that she should sleep during such a disturbance! 
 but I suppose this miracle was wrought for the 
 occasion." Mrs. Placid, taking no notice of the 
 eneer this speech conveyed, replied, " Miracles 
 have lone: since ceased, and we talk of nothing 
 now but over-ruling providences, which make se- 
 cond causes subservient to particular ends: — but 
 4 
 
AN EXrLANATIOX. 75 
 
 in this sleep of my mother, there was notliing mi- 
 raculous or surprising, for if thou recollectesi, I 
 said she had taken a composing draught." " Jt is 
 a miserable thing to be dull of apprehension/' said 
 our scholar, who seemed unwilling that the lady 
 should escape without a retort in kiudj " do you 
 wish, madam, for a more particular explanation r" 
 " Not from you, sir," returned Miss F. with aa 
 angry warmth. '' Sharp's the word," said Mr. 
 Bustle, " but mind the old proverb," to Miss Fin- 
 ahin, " they who can't take a joke should never 
 give one." '' Let us mind a higher authority," 
 added Mrs, Placid, " even that of an .apostle, who 
 has left us the precept — " Be ye courteous." Now 
 this injunction implies that we avoid every species 
 of satirical acrimony in our conversation, as be- 
 ing contrary to the mild and peaceable disposi- 
 tion becoming christians." " Madam," returned 
 the collegian, " I see the force of your applica- 
 tion, and ask the lady's pardon," bowing to Miss 
 F. " Excuse rather," said Mrs. P. who now went 
 on once more with her narration. 
 
 " I will not dwell upon a death-bed scene, 
 which, though extremely interesting to me, had 
 nothing peculiarly striking in it, to render it so to 
 others. My mother died as she had lived, in the 
 full possession of all the enjoyments of religion. 
 Her hopes of heaven were strong, and rarely ob- 
 scured by a cloud of doubt or fear. And this I 
 ascribe to tl^at course of consistent piety she had 
 
76.' A HAPPY DEATH. 
 
 pursued. She had scriptural evidence that slie 
 >vas " accepted in the Beloved :" and the last sen- 
 tence T heard her utter was — " He hath loved me, 
 and given himself for me." 
 
 *' Excuse an interruption, madam," said our 
 young student — " Do I understand you riuht if I 
 imagine you mean to say that all who practise a 
 life of piety will thus d;e triumphantly r" " No," 
 returned Mrs. Placid, " thou must not draw that 
 conclusion. All the servants of God are not 
 rims favoured, which frequently arises from (he 
 frame and constitution of their nature, as well as 
 from the sovereign pleasure of God himself. My 
 mother was of a remarkably cheerful and anima- 
 ted temper, which is higiily favourable to reli- 
 gious joys and hopes. But although an holy walk 
 and conversation may not in all cases be follow- 
 ed by a triumphant death, it has a naturnl ten- 
 dency towards it; and no expectation ought to be 
 formed by any, that the}' shall be thus blessed, 
 unless they are careful to maintain such an one. 
 Nothing very particular happened in my aftairs 
 till three years after my mother's death, when" 
 
 " Thou hast forgotten breaking thine arm, 
 
 and that bad fever which thou wast aiHicted with," 
 
 interrupted Rac/icl. " Ueally, madan)," said 
 
 I, " your life seems to consist of a series of disas- 
 trous events, and it is surprising that you were not 
 overwhelmed by their pressure." 
 
 "The onlv reason to be assigned wliv 1 was 
 
STOICISM. 77 
 
 not/' returned Mrs. P. " was my being in posses- 
 sion of the Autidote for the Miseries of Human 
 Life. Under every fresh trial, I was enabled to 
 look upwards; and the supports I received in con- 
 sequence, it is utterly impossible for me to express." 
 *' I have seen religions professors," said I, " under 
 great depression, in consequence of afRictive dis- 
 pensations." — " When they are so," returned 
 Mrs. Placid, " it is a proof they live below their 
 privileges ; the fault is not in their religion, but 
 in their want of application." 
 
 ^' I much question," said our scholar, " if you 
 would not, madam, have become a disciple of 
 Zenos, if you had lived in his days." 
 
 " I should then," answered Mrs. Placid, with a 
 smile, "have proved myself an unwortliy one; 
 for I should certainly have exclaimed with a fel- 
 low disciple, under a fit of the tooth-ache — 
 *' Pain is an evil." I am far from supposing that 
 we ought to be insensible to afflictions, for in that 
 case the virtues of patience and resignation 
 would not have been enjoined upon us. Our 
 divine Master, when he was upon earth, gave evi- 
 dent marks of his feeling and sympathy, and he 
 has •' left us an example that we should follow iu 
 his steps." Finding v/e all continued silent, Mrs. 
 Placid proceeded : — *' After I had recovered from 
 my fever, in which I experienced those words of 
 the psalmist fulfilled, " He maketh all my bed irx 
 H S 
 
7^ fEMALE PUEACHING. 
 
 my sickness, " — I was disposed in my mind to ad- 
 dress our assemblies.'* 
 
 "Very strange to me/' exclaimed Mr. Bmlle, 
 " how your sect can get over St.- Paul's ob- 
 jections to tliis practice; why be says expressly, 
 " I suffer not a woman to speak in the church." 
 "Paul," rejoined Mrs. Placid, "acknowledges 
 that he does not ahcays speak by inspiration, and 
 some of us conclude he does not in that sentence ; 
 I could produce many parts of scripture to prove 
 the propriety of our sex's speaking in public, par- 
 ticularly a text from Joel; — but perhaps thou art 
 not very anxious to have thine objections removed 
 on this point." 
 
 " Why I cannot say I am," replied Mr. Bm- 
 ilt ; " I never can be persuaded but that it is best 
 for our women to sit quiet in the church, and 
 only hold forth to us at home, and then with 
 proper restrictions." " Well," said Mrs. Placid, 
 "* enjoy thy opinion, I will not attempt to argue 
 thee out of it, seeing thy eternal interest is not 
 connected with it." 
 
 ** Pardon me, madam,'' said the collegian to 
 Mrs. Placid, " but I must observe, that in places 
 where the apostle Paul does not profess to speak 
 by divine appointment, he says — " But I speak 
 this by permission." I think this distinction 
 should be attended to, lest eirors of a more 
 important nature than the one in question 
 
A MYStEUlOUS DEAFNESS. 79 
 
 should arise from denying his authority in all 
 cases." 
 
 Whether a sudden deafness seized Mrs. Pla- 
 cid at the moment the scholar was speaking, or 
 whether the rough grating of a broad-wiieeled 
 waggon, which passed us in the interim, really 
 occasioned the student's voice to be lost in the 
 air before it could reach the further corner in 
 which she sat, 1 cannot determine ; but certain 
 it was that she made no attempt at a reply, but in- 
 stantly proceeded in her narrative — ^' I was/' said 
 she, " the more concerned to exercise mv 
 speaking talents, because of certain false teachers 
 having unawares crept into our assemblies. I 
 feared the error would gain ground amongst 
 us, and I felt it a duty to lend a helping hand to 
 prevent it. 
 
 " My son being now come from school, I was 
 in consequence enabled to relax my attention 
 to business, and to spend more time in reading 
 and meditation, which was always my taste and 
 delight. 1 visited, in the capacity of a speaker, 
 most parts of England, and resolved upon a 
 visitation to Ireland, just when my son had at- 
 tained his seventeenth year. lie expressed a 
 wish to accompany me, to which I had no 
 objection." 
 
 I thought Mrs. Placid's voice faltered as 
 she pronounced the last sentence, which height- 
 
80 A TENDER SUliJLCT. 
 
 ened ni}' curiosity. If it lias the same effect 
 upon my readers, tliey will have no objection to 
 enter upon my next chapter, and follow the 
 widow and her son to Ireland. 
 
81 
 
 CHJP. riir. 
 
 ^Irs. Placid's zeal for tlie dc>ctfinc8 of the Gospel druws some 
 con(ri>veisiul nbscrvHlions iVom the 'stjuirc. The ^oiing sclio- 
 hir, n (liviiic elect, nppcalcd to. He answers in chHriicler, A 
 g(H»(i toiiiper«.'(l iiiuM aftVoittcd. 'I'lie (iibpiile adj'.ritud, and 
 good litiiiiom- again lesloied. The 'squire's attention diverted 
 from tlie widow's story, by the only circumstance which couid 
 have efl'ecied it. New means of quieting the remonstriinces of 
 conscience. The interest of the brute crcatiou pleaded for by 
 the iHdifH. A mysterious deuih, with the comments of a locjua- 
 cious landlord. 
 
 '' When vve anived in Ireland/' continued 
 Mrs. F/arid, " I was agreeably surprised at the 
 kind reception I met with, horn all the different 
 denominations of christians to whom [ was intro- 
 duced. I had hitherto mixed bi'.t little with any 
 religious sect beside our own, and I had acquired 
 somewhat of a bigoted spirit, arising entirely 
 from ignorance and misconception of tliC cha- 
 racters and principles of my ciirisiian brethren. 
 As my mind became better informed, my bigotry 
 dccreaseti, and 1 was soon convinced that the 
 '■' kingdom of God consisteth not in meats and 
 drinks, but in righteousness, and peace, and joy 
 
8C lAITH AND WORKS. 
 
 ill the Holy Ghost." I was led at this time to 
 speak in {)ublic more pariiculaily upon gospel 
 doctrines than our [)eople are accustomed to do, 
 for their discourses in general are confined to 
 practical subjects; and in consequence, 1 was in- 
 formed certain rumours had been raised against 
 them, as though they despised the good old way of 
 faith in a crucified Redeemer, and vainly ima- 
 gined that good works were the ground of their 
 acceptance." 
 
 " And what should be the ground ofacceptance, 
 if good works are not?" asked th.e 'squire. *' By 
 which of thy good works wouldest thou be will- 
 ing to be tried at the day of judgment .?" returned 
 Mrs. Placid. Mr. Bustle paused, as though en- 
 deavouring to recollect — but, most probably find- 
 ing himself unable, he evaded the question; and 
 turning short round to the young student, " You 
 are a divine elect," said he; " what have you to 
 say about <i;ood vi'orksr" 
 
 " I will answer your question in character, sir," 
 replied the collegian — " that is, in the words of 
 that church, of which I hope shortly to become a 
 juinister. ^' V\'e are accounted righteous before 
 God, only for the merit of our Lord and Saviour, 
 Jesus Christ. By faith, and not by our own 
 works or deservings. Good works are ihe fruits 
 ot faith, but cannot put away our sins. Yet are 
 they pleasing and acceptable to God, and spring 
 7tcc£ssanlj/ out of a true and lively faith; so that 
 
DOCTRINE Ot REVVAUIJS. 83 
 
 by them a lively taitli is known as a tree by its 
 fruits." 
 
 " I don't remember," said Mr. Bustle, ^' tiiat I 
 ever read those words in the church prayer-book." 
 ** Perhaps not/' returned the student ; " for it is 
 too much the custom to omit the Articles, where 
 they should be found. — But, sir, if you will take 
 the trouble to examine, you will find the 
 prayers and the liturgy in unison with this senti- 
 ment." 
 
 Mr. Bustle seemed loth to drop the argument; 
 " Why," said he, " how do you then understand 
 the doctrine oi' rezvards which the Bible, our par- 
 sons say, promises to all who do good works?" 
 " The rewards promised in scripture to the righ- 
 teous," replied the scholar, " must not be under- 
 stood as payments on the side of Deity — but as 
 gracious recompenses for poor imperfect services." 
 " In the same manner," added Mrs. Placid, " as 
 thou vvouldest reward thy faithful servant ; though, 
 strictly speaking, it was no more than his duty to 
 be faithful, and had he been otherwise thou 
 mightest justly have recompensed him evil in- 
 stead of good." 
 
 I was unwilling to be left quite out in this con- 
 troversy — " I have often been surprised," said I, 
 " at the opposition the doctrine of faith has met 
 with from unholy men — for I have frequently 
 heard the sabbath-breaker, the swearer, and the 
 worldly-minded, gravely assert that heaven was to 
 
84 A MISUNDERSTANDING. 
 
 be gained by good works. Surely it might be 
 reasouiibly expected that all those who were ot 
 that opinion would abound in them." 
 
 1 saw the colour heightened in *.he luce of our 
 country-gentleman, which for a moment surprised 
 me, till I recollected I had undesignedly made a 
 personal reflection, in my mention of STceareis. 
 He turned round, and with rather a displeased air, 
 said — " Sir, if I do swear sometimes, I don't 
 mean any harm by it." — " isor did I, sir, by my 
 observation, I assure you," 1 replied ; " I had for- 
 gotten your habit." — " It is a pity," said our kind- 
 hearted quaker, addressing herself to me, " that 
 as thou speaUest so sokhjm, thou shouldest ever 
 speak unadvisedly; and truly I do not wonder 
 that our friend should suppose thou meant a 
 reflection, which might have been conveyed in a 
 less offensive manner." — " I don't )nind being 
 told of my faults," said Mr. Bmfle, " but then 
 1 like to be told direct, and not in a round about 
 way ; I like to be talked to, not of." — '*■ I 
 have," observed Mrs. Placid, " studied that 
 difficult art, the art of reproving, and have ge- 
 nerally found persons of thy mind ; and I assure 
 thee it was my full intention, before we parted, 
 to talk very seriously to thee about thy swearing, 
 and also on another of thy faults." — " I had 
 rather be talked to by yon," returned Mr. Bustlf. 
 ** on that subject, than by any one else in the 
 coach." 
 
SCHOLASTIC DIVINITY. 85 
 
 I again repeated my assurance, that I meant 
 no personal reflection, the 'squire's countenance 
 again shone with good humour, and matters being 
 amicably adjusted, Mrs. P. went on with her 
 narrative. 
 
 " We stayed in Ireland about three weeks. 1 
 spoke either in pubhc or private, most days, on 
 the interesting truths of religion, and have rea- 
 son to hope I spoke not in vain. I was the 
 means of removing prejudices from the minds of 
 many, which they had imbibed against our sect, 
 originating in ignorance of our principles! Ig- 
 norance is generally the mother of prejudice. 
 It must, however, be confessed, that our own 
 peculiar expressions have, in part, occasioned 
 these misconceptions on the side of our adver- 
 saries. For instance — Our scruples in not joinino- 
 with other Christians in calling the scriptures 
 " the word of God," as supposing the term only 
 applicable to the eternal Word, even Christ him- 
 self, has led them to imagine that we denv the 
 divine inspiration of the scriptures, than which, 
 nothing can be more erroneous. And our objec- 
 tion to the word Truiity, and to all scholastic 
 explanations of that doctrine, has naturally in- 
 duced them to suppose we do not believe the 
 union of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, as the 
 one true God of Christians." 
 
 " These are just the sentiments I have heard ad- 
 vanced against your sect," observed the youu"- 
 
 I 
 
85 A GALE or ^VIN n. 
 
 scholar, " and I believe tliein." — " And that is 
 the way erroneous judgments are formed, by giv- 
 ing credit to assertions instead of |)roofs/' re- 
 turned Mrs. P. " The writings oi' Penn and Bcn- 
 clmj contain our religious sentiments taken as 
 a body ; and we must not be charged with errors 
 in faith, which are only attached to a few indivi- 
 duals found amoniiist us." 
 
 " God forbid, that we should any of us be thus 
 unfairly dealt with, for then our national church 
 itself would become a victim to misrejiresenta- 
 tion," replied the collegian. '' But pray, madam, 
 proceed in your history." 
 
 " I had reason to suppose," said Mrs. Placid, 
 " that my visit to Ireland would be productive of 
 temporal, as well as spiritual, good ; for my trade 
 connexions were increased, and my son, by his 
 amiable disposition, gained the favourable opinion 
 of many persons likely to be useful to him through- 
 out life. 
 
 " \^e set sail from Ireland in a vessel belonging 
 to a Friend, of which he was captain ; all was 
 calm and pleasant for the first two days, but in 
 the night of the third, there arose a heavy gale of 
 wind, and, in consequence, some danger was 
 apprehended." — *' Aye, then," interrupted the 
 'squire, "you heard plenty of swearing, nothing 
 I have said to-day comes up to it." — " Tliou art 
 mistaken," replied Mrs. Placid, '* dost thou not 
 recollect that I said our captain was a F/iendT 
 
A STORM. 87 
 
 " Friend or foe/' rejoiaed Mr. Biistle, '• he could 
 not manage sailors by ijeas and //«//,s." — •' He 
 liad managed tliem, 1 assure thee," returned Mrs. 
 P/acid, " for twenty years, without an oath ; and 
 J have been inlbrnied^ by persons who had seen 
 much of a sea-life, that his sailors were more 
 manageable than any other they ever met with. 
 Thou canst not, surely, for a moment, seriously 
 imagine that the divine Law-giver has imposed 
 a sort of necessity on his creatures in any cir- 
 cumstances to break his law.s!" A self-evident 
 proposition will never be controverted but by tiie 
 incorrigibly obstinate. Mr. Bustle was not of that 
 number ; he therefore made no reply to the widow, 
 who went on with her adventures. 
 
 " All was alarm and activity on board our ves- 
 sel ; at this interesting period, we shipped much 
 water in the cabin, which the females were useful 
 to remove, though some or" us yielded so much to 
 fear as to be incapable of usefulness. My son 
 went upon deck to assist the captain and sailors. 
 He frequently returned to me to comfort and 
 animate my spirits; his own were undaunted, and 
 liis courage and usefulness on board so great, as 
 the captain assured me, that I did not yield to the 
 strong desire I felt to retain him with me in the 
 cabin. 1 urged him to attempt nothing to wdiich 
 his strength and skill was unequal; and with 
 prayers and tears commended him to providence, 
 as supposing him in the path of duty, and conse- 
 
88 THE CATASTROPHE. 
 
 quently of saftty. In about four hours tlie vio- 
 lence of the storm abated, and we were assured 
 that all danger was over : 1 wondered that my 
 son was not the welcome bearer of this intelli- 
 gence, and anxiously inquired after him. The 
 inquiry was made at my request throughout the 
 vessel; I endured for half an hour a suspense 
 which it is out of the power of language to de- 
 scribe, and then the captain announced, in the 
 tenderest manner he was able, the sad tidings 
 that my son was no where to be found ; and 
 that the only probable conjecture was, that 
 he had, by some heavy sea, of which there 
 had been several on deck, been washed over- 
 board." 
 
 " Don't say another word about it, don't say 
 another word about it," cried out Mr. Basi/e, with 
 evident marks of feeling in his countenance. 
 " Had my life," continued Mrs. Placid, " been 
 made up of common trials, it would not have been 
 worth a relation ; I have been induced to relate 
 these incidents, my friends, from the sole motive 
 of impressing on your minds this important truth 
 — ^That there is in vital religion, an Jnt'idote to 
 every misery which can fall to the lot of human 
 nature. On this trying occasion, I experienced 
 the fulfilment of that promise, ' As thy day is. 
 so shall thy strength be;' and I was enable 
 to reflect on several sources of consolation, even 
 under this great calamity. I had every reason fo 
 
FRESH GAME. Sd 
 
 hope that my clear son was prepared for his 
 sudden and awfid change, for a deep sense of 
 divine things appeared to have taken possession of 
 his heart. I considered how mucii worse my af- 
 fliction would have been, had lie lived a disgrace 
 to society, and a despiser of his God, which 
 affliction so many mothers are called upon to 
 endure; and I reflected also on the great de- 
 liverance so many persons had experienced, at the 
 moment when the deep had only been permitted 
 to swallow up one. I am sensible tiiat the 
 iiigliest source of consolation to the Christian, 
 onghi, and does arise from an acquiescence in 
 the ftill of God considered absolutely ; but I 
 imairine it is lawful to call in also such se- 
 condary sources of consolaiion as 1 have men- 
 tioned." 
 
 Notwithstanding the deep interest which Mr. 
 Hustle took in the widow's history, a circumstance 
 now occurred which completely diverted his aiten- 
 tion. Just as she had finished her last sentence, 
 he started from his seat, reached his body half out 
 of the couch, and exclaimed, " By George ! 
 tiiere's a covey of partridges sprung up this 
 moment! T!ie first covey I've clapt my eyes on 
 this season ; — to be boxed up in a coach, con- 
 founded unlucky l" He then coniinued gazing 
 on the winged fugitives, till liis sharp-sighted or- 
 gans failed to descry their progress, and then re- 
 sealed himself, again lamented his unfortunate 
 
90 A sportsman's feelings. 
 
 situation, and declared that all the lawyers in 
 both Inns of court should never tempt him 
 again from the country in the charming month of 
 September. 
 
 " I enjoy the happy escape of the poor birds 
 too much," returned the young student, " to 
 sympathize with you, sir, in this sporting mise- 
 ry." — *' Aye, aye," rejoined the 'squire, " I 
 wish I may live to see you in the pulpit with your 
 pocket empty of your sermon, just discovered at 
 the moment you were expected to hold forth." 
 ** You would be amply revenged, truly, sir," said 
 the collegian. *' For fear of such accidents, I will 
 endeavour always to know the subject thoroughly 
 on which I mean to hold forth, that my memory 
 in one case may rectify my carelessness in the 
 other." 
 
 " Thou appearest," said Mrs. Placid, address- 
 ing herself to Mr. Bustle, " to possess humane 
 feelings ; exercise them, I beseech thee, towards 
 tlie poor animals whom thou del igh test to 
 persecute. Ihis was the fault on which I 
 hinted my wish to speak to thee upon before we 
 parted." 
 
 ** Why, as to that matter," replied Mr. Bustle, 
 *' I do love hunting and shooting, I must own ; 
 yet sometimes I must own too, I have had a 
 qualm of conscience about it, when 1 have seen 
 an unlucky puss of a hare, just as the hounds have 
 come up with her; and have found a lame starved 
 4 
 
HUMANITY RECOMMENDED. 1)1 
 
 partridge in one of my fields. But then I have 
 said to myself, if / don't take a pop at them an- 
 other will." 
 
 " The \ery argument/' returned Mrs. P. " which 
 I yesterday heard advanced in favour of smug- 
 gling. A text of scripture will answer it. "Be ye 
 not partakers with them." 
 
 *' If you bring up scripture/' replied Mr. Biis- 
 th, with an air of satisfaction, " I can match 
 you here in argument. What say you to ~Nim- 
 rod, who was " a mighty hunter/' particularly 
 mentioned ?" 
 
 " J have nothing to say against Nimrod, or his 
 hunting/' replied Mrs. Placid. " He lived in a, 
 part of the world, and at a time when animal food 
 could only be procured by that method ; but he is 
 not proposed as an example, nor can it be ascer- 
 tained that, had he lived in our times, he would, 
 for diversion merely, have practised what he was 
 compelled to do from necessity." 
 
 The 'squire promised to take the subject into 
 consideration, before the next season ; for the 
 present he said he must go on his old plan, having 
 purchased a new gun, and made several hunting 
 engagements. Mrs. Flacid shook her head. 
 Miss Finakin spoke a few words in favour of hu- 
 manity to birds and beasts; they were more lo 
 the purpose than any she had before uttered ; and 
 me-thought she looked agreeable when she con- 
 versed on this subject. We now drew near a 
 
■? ' THE CORONF.r's INOUEST. 
 
 town, where we lound a change of horses was to 
 take place. The ladies were very desirous ot" pro- 
 curing the rcrrcslunent of tea, and for this pur- 
 pose we all alighted. Tlie inn was in great con- 
 fusion, occasioned by a coroner's inquest then 
 taking on the body of a poor man, found the day 
 before in a neighbouring river. The landlord, 
 however, gave us his personal attendance, and in 
 nearly the following words related the particulars 
 of the melancholy event, without permitting 
 either of us to interrupt him by a single observa- 
 tion in return. " John Turnround," said our 
 landlord, " who now lies dead aloft, was as good 
 a lad as ever smoked a pipe, or took a can at the 
 George, 'till about five years ago, when he took 
 to religion, and following such melancholy ways. 
 I told him how it would be ; instead of coming 
 here and makino: merrv, lie'd be runnins; to cha- 
 pel after preaching and praying. 1 told hiin ho'.v 
 it would be ; and sure as I said, they have turned 
 his head amongst 'em. 'Twas impossible that he 
 could fall into the water by chance: he threw 
 himself in, there's -no doubt on't. And lis 
 proved lie was at chapel that same night lie was 
 missing. He went by heie, and I thought where 
 lie was a going. 'John Turnround,' said I, (I 
 was sitting smoking in the porch,) ' there's a main 
 good tap and good company too in the tap-room,' 
 but he turned away his head, and looked so sad- 
 ly ! — Aye, this all conies of running alter par- 
 
THE BELL. 93 
 
 sons. 1 hates to have one put hi at the George, 
 Poor fellow, I little thought when he would not 
 walk in of his own accord, that he would be 
 brought in a corpse so soon." 
 
 The bell now ringing violently, our host could 
 proceed no further, but ended his inteliigence by 
 '* a coming, sir, coming sir," and disappeared in 
 a moment, leaving us to comment upon his dis- 
 course when we entered our vehicle, which we did 
 in a few minutes. 
 
94 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Tic '<quire supposes ]Mr». Plac'.d mi.stiiken in a raost injportai.t 
 opuiimi. He grows captious, and finds fault with htT coniluct 
 as wel! as seiuiuients. She condescends to explain. 'I he 
 motto of a maiden annt, and a short exhortation addressed to 
 Iliichcl. Mrs. Placid pleads for an ioiportanl hrrtutli of prac- 
 tical Chri^tianity. The 'squire avows his attachment to the 
 church of England. A prajer-hook produced, to the surprise of 
 Miss Fiiiakin. The widow appeals to scripture, and talks a littie 
 sihout creeds a-id articles, but attention is diverted to a more inte- 
 resting theme. A point of visiting etiquette determined at the 
 conclusion of the chapter. 
 
 " I THINK, ma'am/' said Mr. Bustk, address- 
 ing himself to Mrs. Placid, '' that the circiun- 
 slance we have just met with makes a little against 
 your argument, that religion is an Antidote to the 
 miseries of life, for here is one occasioned you see 
 by it." 
 
 " 1 wonder," rejoined Mrs. P. '' that a person 
 of thy seeming discernment should credit the igno- 
 rant conjecture formed by a man, who, from his 
 profession, must be an enemy to rehgion." 
 
 ^'Pardon nie, madam," replied the student 
 hastily, " if I say you have now made, in uiy opi- 
 nion, an illiberal observation. \Miat should we 
 
A MISUNDERSTANDING, 9.5 
 
 do without inn-keepers? and surely no profession 
 which the good of society renders necessary, can 
 be unlawful." « How many false opinions," said 
 INIrs. Placid, with a smile, " originate from the 
 misunderstanding of a single word ! and this 
 ought to make us very circumspect in speakin-^ 
 and hearing. I am glad thou hast given me an 
 opportunity to explain, or perhaps thou mightest 
 have run away with the notion that our whole 
 body of Friends had unchristianized every inn- 
 keeper in the kingdom. By the word profession, 
 I meant the man's principles, not his calling. If 
 thou recollectest, he said, " he hated to see a 
 parson in the George;" and he owned that he had 
 endeavoured to decoy into Iiis tap-room the 
 poor man on his way to worship. Does the testi- 
 mony of such a person against religion deserve a 
 moment's attention ?" The young scholar imme- 
 diately answered in the negative ; and the 'squire, 
 by a significant smile, seemed to coincide in the 
 same opinion. " Come, come," said he, " you 
 have picked a hole or two in my coat since we 
 have been together, and now I think I can pick 
 one in your brown bonnet. How came it about, 
 madam, that you should run about preaching, 
 while you had a house to manage, and two 
 daughters at home r who by this time, I presume, 
 might be growing up, and requiring a sharp look- 
 ing after, lest, while you were running one way 
 they might be disposed to run another. Don't 
 
9(5 TIIEMAIDKN AUNT. 
 
 you think 'tis the first duly in a woman to look 
 after her house and family f 
 
 " I do/' rejoined Mrs. Placid, " but thou 
 knowest the old proverb, '' There are no rules 
 ' without exceptions." If I couW not have ar- 
 ranged matters prudently during my absence, f 
 believe I should never have been prevailed on 
 to extend my speaking beyond the assembly on 
 the spot where I resided. My husband had a 
 single sister of great prudence and good manage- 
 ment, as well as piety. She lived on a small for- 
 tune, and her motto was, " I will render m^'self 
 as useful in society as possible." With this dis- 
 position she teas to me, and still is, an invaluable 
 relation. 
 
 '* I hope," turning to Puichcl, thou wilt ever 
 look to thy aunt Hester for an example, and 
 remember if providence ai)point thee a single 
 lot in life, thou art not therefore to suppose tliy- 
 self appointed to an indolent or useless one. 
 This kind-hearted friend oi mine was very desirous 
 of my exerting my speaking talents, and offered, 
 upon every occasion, to supply my place at home. 
 1 accepted her assistance, and never had reason 
 to repent the intrusting into her hands the care 
 of my house and family. Now, friend," turning 
 her head round with some humour to Mr. Bustle, 
 " 1 hope thou canst not see a single hole in my 
 brown bonnet." 
 
 " Not one, not one," said the 'squire. " Now, 
 
FIXE WEATHER. 97 
 
 if you please, I should Jike to hear the remainder 
 of your history; I forget how it came to be bro- 
 ken off."— '^ 0„!y by the flight of a few par- 
 tridges," returned the quaker, " which thou didst 
 deem more worthy of thine attention; perhaps 
 we may be interrr.pted by another." — '' No, no," 
 replied the sportsman, " no more covies to-ni-rht; 
 the sun setting very fine and clear, looks well 
 ior to-morrow ; 1 hope to pay my respects to 
 that siiining gentleman as soon as he is up a^ain." 
 '' I hope," said Mrs. l^lacid, with a grave ai:d 
 <'cu-nest countenance, " thou dost not forget to pay 
 thy res;;ects to the Maker of that beautiful object 
 thou art now contemplating. Thou hast advo- 
 ctited the cause of practical religion in the course 
 of the day, now prayer is certainly a part of it; 
 and one who lives in the neglect of prayer, is un- 
 worthy the name of a Christian."—'* You have a 
 way," said JVir. Bustle, " of coming so close upon 
 one — as to praying, I believe I don't perform that 
 duly so often as I ought; but I intend to mend 
 and to repent, and reforjn all that's amiss very 
 soon,"—'' Aye, friend,'' rejoined Mrs. Flachl, 
 " thou tulkest like one who knows but little of 
 his own weakness.*'—" Nay," replied the 'squiie, 
 " you wrong me there; don't I own that I am not 
 so good as I ought to be.?"—" True," replied his ' 
 fair-ai:tagonist, " I am happy to discover that 
 thou hast some knowledge of thy sinful estate. 
 But thou dost vainly imagine that it is in thr 
 
 K 
 
9d (QUAKER DOCTKINF.. 
 
 own power to repent and^ reform whenever thou 
 vleasest — whereas the scripture declares tliat re- 
 pentance is tlie gilt of God, and that reformation 
 is the work of his Holy Spirit. Now whilst thou 
 continuest in this mind, thou wilt not pray for 
 this precious gift of repentance; consequently 
 thou wilt never receive it ; for God has declared 
 tiiat, he will for every blessing be inquired of. 
 And thou wilt labour in thine own strength after 
 reformation^ which the power of temptation will 
 render unavailing." 
 
 " This is quaker doctrine," replied Mr. Bustk; 
 " Tin a member of the church of England ; 1 
 don't hold with any thirtg but what's taught in the 
 regular church ; I go there very often, and 1 i/i-* 
 tend going still oftener." 
 
 '' I am glad to hear it/* said Mrs. Placid ; " a? 
 I told thee before, I don't wish to make a quaker 
 (as thou wilt still persist in calling us) of thee. If 
 thou believest all thine own jhurch teacheth, I 
 verily think, that in the main points, thou wilt be 
 right: as to all I have said about repentance and 
 reformation, I am sure thy church and the en- 
 lightened part of mine will not disagree." — " Is 
 it so, young parson?" asked Mr. Bustle. " 1 
 ■;\'ish most earnestly, sir," replied the youth, 
 " that you would examine for yourself." — " That's 
 neither here nor there," rejoined Mr. B. " I can't 
 examine this minute ; I've no prayer-book in my 
 pocket." — " But I have," replied the student. 
 
CIlURCtl ATITICLES. ^^ 
 
 clrawiiip^ one out. *' Bless rue !" cii^^ Miss T'lti- 
 akin, " do you carry a prayer-book about uiili 
 you every uhcre r" — " No, madam/' he replied, 
 "■ noi always, tiiough perhaps it" I did, and re- 
 ferred to it much ot'tener, ii might be tor my ad- 
 vantage." — " Sir," continued he, addressing him- 
 self to Mr. Bustle, " I cannot pretend to en- 
 ter upon a criticistn on the contents of this 
 b()oi< ; but if vou will permit me, I will read a 
 very few words from our tenth Article, because 
 it appears to me to a;iply directly to the point 
 in question. The arlicle says — " ^fan ("annot 
 turn and prepare himself by his own natural 
 strength and good works to faith and calling 
 upon God. VV^e have no power to do good works 
 without the grace of God preventing us, that we 
 may have a good will, and working with us, when 
 we have that good will." 
 
 " Tliy Articles, friend," said Mrs. Placid, '' are 
 of no value, if thou canst not produce scripture 
 in confirmation of them." — " Granted, madam," 
 replied the collegian; " but as this gentleman pro- 
 fesses himself attached to his national church, I 
 imagine hs will be satisfied with the doctrines siie 
 teaches. I will thank you to recollect a scripture 
 confirmation."^ 
 
 " There are so many applicable to the subject, 
 that [ hardly know which to produce,' rejoined 
 the widow — " Our Lord says by his apostle John — ■ 
 ^ The branch cannot btar fruit except it abide 
 
iOO CREEDS. 
 
 in the vine : no tnoie can yc, except ye abide ia 
 me; for wiiliout me yc can do nothing.' And 
 Faui says — It is God that ' uorkeih in us both to 
 ■w ill and to do of bis good pleasure !' W iih such 
 texts as these," continued Mrs. Placid, " and 
 our Bibles ever at hand, 1 cannot see the necessity 
 of creeds and articles, wliich are mere human in- 
 stitutions, unknown in ihe days of priiniiive Chris- 
 tianity." 
 
 " Til! the church of Christ became corrupted," 
 replied the collegian, *' they were certainly very 
 unnecessary appendages, but in the present day 
 they arc useful — they act as a check to false due- 
 trine, and thus aid (so to sj)eak) the Bible iu de- 
 fence of the truth." 
 
 "Aid! my friend," rejoined Mrs. Placid; 
 " what, dost thou mean to say the Spirit which 
 indited the holy scriptures stands in need of as- 
 sistance to support his own doctrines:"' 
 
 "" No, madam," replied the student, " not in 
 one sense — for the Holy S[)irit is invincible, 
 i^ut vi hile ■ liumao natuic continues prone to 
 «;rror, I conceive every means may be lawfully 
 resorted to, which has a tendency to obstruct its 
 progress — and in this point of view 1 consider 
 church-articles and subscriptions." Mrs. Placid 
 made no answer to the cullegian, but seemed 
 \vrap[)e(l i'l rellcction ; probal)!y she was collect- 
 ing the whole force of her controversial powers, 
 in order to level a strong battery at creeds a^d 
 
A llOPEIUL CONVERT, I'Ol 
 
 eliurch establishments, when her attention was 
 diverted from the subject by Mr. Bustle, who ex- 
 claimed— '^ Well ! I find you both know more of 
 these matters than I do; but this I can say, that 
 from what has passed this d^y, and a ^ew serious 
 thoughts, which, in spite of my endeavours to get 
 rid- oi them, will sometimes perplex me, I am 
 inclined to think all is not quite ri^ht in these two 
 places," — laying his hand on his heart, and point- 
 ii)g his finger to his head. 
 
 Mrs. Placid, as the 'squire uttered the last sen- 
 tence, fixed her eyes upon him, and with a sweet 
 and animated tone of voice, " I verily believe," 
 said she, " that thou art not far from the kins:- 
 dom of heaven. — I verily believe that there is a 
 work of grace begun in thine heart ; and the 
 scripture says — He who hath begun a good work 
 in you, will perform it until the day of Jesus 
 Christ. — O, my friend," continued she, " 1 en- 
 treat thee that thou v. iit no longer stifle thy se- 
 rious convictions; thy proneness to do so, is 
 a convincing proof of the truth of the scripture- 
 declaration, that ' The carnal mind is enmity 
 against God.' Fly inslnntly to the hope set before 
 thee in the go?n(.l, and to Jesus, who alone de- 
 livers ' from liie urath to come.' lie will r(wc 
 tlice that repentance v,'hich is unto life ; for we are 
 assured that he is appointed to this very end. A 
 Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance unto 
 i^rael, and remission of sins." 
 
10'2 AN INVITATION'. 
 
 " I thank you heartily for your good counsel," 
 returned the 'squire; " where do you hve, when 
 you are at home ? I should hke to call upon 
 you soiuetiines, if agreeable — I don't wish to 
 intrude." 
 
 " I shall never deem thee an intruder," an- 
 swered iSTrs. P. " I Jive at the liouse where we 
 were taken up, for I have retired from business 
 these two years, leaving the whole of it to my 
 partner, who allows me one third of the profits." 
 " Yonr house is a great way off," rejoined the 
 'i>quire, " and 1 very seldom go to London ; I'm 
 afraid I sliall never see you again. 1 wish you 
 would come to nnj house, a nice snug hunting- 
 box as ever you saw in your life, and you shall 
 have a iie.-irty welcome." 
 
 " We must not be guilty of improprieties,"' 
 replied Mrs. P/^t/J, drawing herself up with ra- 
 ther a reserved air. " 1 must know thee belter, 
 and also the inmates of thy dwelling, before 1 can 
 consent to pay thee a visit." 
 
 " IVue, true," rejoined Mr. Bustle ; " I forgot 
 that the women must be nice in these matters ; 
 and for what you know 1 may be a single man, 
 and your scandalous people might talk. But, 
 however, I can truly say, I have as gooil a little 
 wife as ever man was blessed with, whose ac- 
 quaintance will bo no discredit to you, and I'm 
 ^lue you will like one another, for she has no ob- 
 j«-c'tion to religious folks, and she's nul one oi 
 
AN ENGAGEMENT. 103 
 
 your fal-lal ladies who will despise your plain 
 I gown and cloiik." 
 
 "If that be the case," replied the widow, 
 " perhaps I may call upon her, if thy dwelling 
 
 does not lie far from- , where I propose 
 
 staying the ensuing month." 
 
 '' It is not more than one mile distant from 
 that place," said Mr. B." I'll give you my name 
 and address," taking out his pencil" and a bit of 
 paper from his pocket-book— ^' now 1 recollect 
 though," added he, " we will do things gen- 
 teelly ; if yon will give me your name and address, 
 my wife shall call upon yon Jirsf. Is not that tlie 
 right way of it, madam i" appealing to Miss Fim" 
 kin. " [ believe so," she replied, while Mrs. 
 PlaciJ, quick as thought, wrote her name, and 
 that of her friend's also, to whose house she was 
 going, on the paper the 'squire presented her for 
 the purpose, 
 i^ . " Mow, " said I, " tiiat your controversies and 
 \ your visiting engagements are amicably adjusted.j 
 may I presume to request (to Mrs. -P^c/</) the con- 
 clusion of your history i Many interruptions have 
 taken place, but the day wears off, and the hour 
 ot separation will soon arrive." — " I have not 
 much more to mention," she returned, " but as 
 thou art |)leased to express an interest, I will com- 
 ply with thy wishes." 
 
 , So saying, slie went on as follows in my next 
 Lchapter. 
 
104 
 
 CllJP. X. 
 
 Mrs. Piacid's history comluded. The sympaMiotic feelings of her 
 hearers described. The scholar iii.sists upon Mrs. Pl;icids de- 
 fining the word Misery, The 'squire is made impatient by tiie 
 duliicss of the scholar, and decides the argnrcent. Miss l'i:ia- 
 kin's carefulness for her nephew, the captain. lie is admitted 
 for the second tiine as an iijside passenger, on condition of k;ou»i 
 beliaviour. 
 
 " The feelings of my relations and friends on 
 the meluncboly intelligence I Iwd to coninuiui- 
 cate to them, may be conceived better than de- 
 scribed. I will not dwell on this painful subject. 
 I cannot possil)ly fathom tbe design of Providence 
 in this most trying dispensation, but I think my- 
 self authorized to apply to ray own case the words 
 which our Lord addres^sed to his disciple Petir — 
 ** What thou knowest not now, tliou slialt know 
 hereafter." — " What when you get to heaven, L 
 su[)pose you mean?" said the 'squire. " Yes,' 
 replied Mrs. Placid, " when we reach that liappy 
 place, all mysteries will be unravelled, faith wilt 
 be turned into sight; and God himself will \\'\\)&^ 
 away every teac. 
 
THE DEJECTED TRADESMAN. 105 
 
 " Soon after my return home^ I discovereda 
 gloom seated constantly on the face of my part- 
 ner, at which I was mucli surprised, for he was 
 generally, of a pleasant cheerful disposition ; at 
 first 1 concluded it was occasioned by the death 
 of my son, for whom 1 knew he had a tender re- 
 gard. But seeing that a few weeks made no al- 
 teration in his deportment,- 1 noticed it to liini. 
 " John Tradevveli," said I, "thou art very deject'- 
 ed of late \ I Icar thou art sorrowing after the 
 dear departed youth we have lost, like one with- 
 out hope; consider, he is ovAy remotcd ; and that 
 ifife^Qiiot our own faults, ,\vei shall sooii foilo^r 
 liira. . , We have good reason to imagine that lie 
 was a partaker of the grace of the gospel, and if 
 so, he is certainly a partaker with all those who 
 through "faith and patience inherit the prornises." 
 He ma,de no reply, [ believe he was not able, but 
 instantly quitted ih.e roo;n. , A fe\v days more 
 i-lapsed, and I expected the words i had spoken 
 would take efiect, but still his dejection seemed 
 rather to increase than abate. I spoke to him 
 again. " There is something mysterious," said f, 
 '' in thy conduct; hast thou any thing disastrous 
 to communicate to me? any thing amiss in our 
 business? It" so, don't, [ entreat thee, be averse, to 
 mention it: I am not afraid of evil tidings, seeing 
 that my heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord." 
 " Thou Uast not, I believe," replied he, " exa- 
 mined -our books very lately.'' This was a 
 
106 BAT) nt.BTS. 
 
 short sentence ; but the manner in which it ^nf^ 
 spoken, and the look which accompanied it, was 
 equivalent to a long exphination. " I understand 
 thee, John Tradewell," said I, " we are going 
 behindhand, I suppose : what, are there bad 
 debts:" — " Several," rejoined he, " but the worst 
 of all is the failure of our banker, which liap- 
 |)ened when tiiou wast in Ireland. 1 expected 
 thou wouldest have heard of it, by the newsjta- 
 pers, or some other channel, before this !" — '• '1 ni- 
 ly," said 'I, " thou hast acted indiscreetly in keep- 
 ing this secret from me a single day, but tliuu 
 didst mean well, no doubt." — " How could I bear 
 to add to thy distresses?" said he. " It has hap- 
 pened very providentially," continued he, " that 
 we had no considerable sum in the banker's 
 hands, for I had occasion to draw upon him a 
 few days before his failure. Yet there was 
 enough to injure us greatly, and, added to tlie 
 bad debts, we are much embarrassed, and what 
 can be done in the matter I really cannot devise." 
 " Thou art in general not backward in good con- 
 trivances, .John Tradewell," said 1, " and I am 
 surprised thou shouldcst be at a loss in so plain a 
 case. A\ hat can be done so proper as to call our 
 creditors together, make known to them the state 
 of our affairs, and take their advice on what 
 will be the bci^t part to act?" — '* But our credit ; 
 our credit!" repeated he; "no one at present 
 has an idea of oar situation." — " I don't know 
 
CKEDIT RKLIEVED. 107 
 
 what thou dost mean," replied \, " by the word 
 credit, as thou dost apply it. The credit of a 
 tiadesmhii is on all occasions to act with openness 
 and candour, and if he has reason to fear he 
 shall not be able to pay his creditors, it is but fair 
 to give them timely notice, and consult upon a 
 plan which may enable liitn to do that in time, 
 which he cannot do immediately." By such rea- 
 sonings as these, I soon prevailed on my partner 
 to coincide with me in opinion, for he was an 
 honest man, though he had got some undefined 
 notions about credit and character floating in his 
 J head, which were near misleading his judgment. 
 As soon as it couTtl be conveniently managed, we 
 called our creditors together, and when affairs 
 were fully stated, it appeared that, if they chose 
 to make us bankrupts, we should pay about fif- 
 teen shillings in the pound. Every creditor we 
 had objected to that measure, and expressed their 
 wishes for our proceeding on the usual plan, 
 not doubting but lime would retrieve our losses. 
 They behaved towards "us with the utmost lenity, 
 and even kindness, and I am convinced if others 
 in our situation would act the same, we should 
 not hear of such frequent bankruptcies and im- 
 prisonments. My partner was soon assured that 
 he had lost no credit, in the proper sense of the 
 word, by this procedure, for we were treated even 
 with respect by all our creditors." 
 
 ^' I wish my son had done so/' said Mr. Bustle, 
 
108 llOt^JOUHABLE RETIREMENT. 
 
 *' I minjht then have seen hi.n a flourisliini» linen- 
 draper at this moment, instead of a hall-starved 
 lawyer, fur he's too honest ever to be a well- 
 fed one. hut, bless his heart, he had no more 
 notion he was going behindhand than 1 had, who 
 was a hundred miles ofl." — "Do not vex thy- 
 selfabont it," rejoined Mrs. P/«c/''//' tliou mayest 
 live to see thy son a useful {)leader forjitstiee, and 
 we should permit our children to follow tlie bent 
 of their genius^ so far at least as that is lawful and 
 expedient. I can allow for thy vexation indeed re- 
 specting his debts, as they mi^ht occasion distress 
 to many." 
 
 " No, no," replied the 'squire, " I had plenty 
 of money then, more than 1 have now, thanks to 
 the law, whieli 1 have plagued myself with of late 
 years : and I took care tluit no son of mine' 
 should pay less than twenty shillings in the 
 pound." 
 
 " Well done, friend," said Mrs. Placid, who 
 proceeded. " My partner's mind was now made 
 .easy, and our trade went on prosperouslv ; he 
 nu\rried a young woman with a very small for- 
 tune, to whom he had been long attached, and 
 in consequence a separation took place between 
 us, in respect of residence. I took the small house 
 ye saw at Kensington, and there removed myself 
 and daughters. Their society now became the 
 chief delight of my life; and to inform their 
 minds in useful branches of learning, was mv 
 2 
 
AUNT HESTER.. ' 109 
 
 greatest caie. My partner now took tlie whole 
 of the active part in tlie business, and I had at- 
 tained what I so anxiously desired, a freedom 
 from care about trade affairs, and a quiet reiire- 
 ment. My kind sister-in-law lived very near us, 
 and was ever ready to assist me in the delighiiul 
 task of education, as thou, Rachel , canst attest." 
 '^Yes," replied Rachel, ''and thou wilt excuse 
 nie if I say that I think aunt Hester is in one 
 respect a better teacher than thou art ; not be- 
 cause she knows better than thyself, but she is so 
 slow and deliberate in her manner of speaking, 
 that I can understand her better." Mrs. Placid, 
 smiled; ^-^ Thy aunt Hester too, tliou mightest 
 have added, has more patience than thy mother, 
 and that is a necessary ingredient in the art of 
 teacliing. She is a pattern of patience and per- 
 severance, in every pursuit she has in view. In 
 her is exemplified the exhortation of the apostle — 
 *' Whatsoever thine hand findeth to do, do it 
 with all thy might." 
 
 "In a few months after we came to reside at 
 Kensington, my eldest daughter, then sixteen 
 years of age, was seized with the scarlet fever, 
 from which she was scarcely recovered, when she 
 was attacked by a still more formidable one, a 
 frenzy fever. To describe the scenes of distress 
 and anxiety which, as a mother, I endured at 
 this time, is utterly impossible; nor do T wish to 
 pain your minds by a recital. But I was not for- 
 
 L 
 
110 FAMILY AFFLICTION. 
 
 saken by that God in whom [ trusted: my health 
 and sphits were kept up in a manner, which, on 
 recollection, seems now almost miraculous. 
 
 " My daughter lay one month in this deplorable 
 condition ; her precious senses quite lost through 
 the violence of her disorder. Her life was de- 
 spaired of, and every day the awful change was 
 expected. But how shall I speak the joy 1 felt, 
 when, at the end of a month, symptoms of amend- 
 ment appeared, and the physician gave hopes 
 of her recovery ! I was somewhat suiprised to ob- 
 serve, there were no particular marks of pleasure 
 in his countenance when he announced what 
 seemed to me such happy tidings ; but, alas! this 
 mystery was in a few weeks unravelled, for I found 
 that although God had seen fit to preserve the life 
 of my dear child, he had (no doubt, for wise, 
 though to me inscrutable, purposes) deprived her 
 of that valuable blessing, understanding." 
 
 Tlie countenance of each person in the vehi- 
 cle bore evident marks of sympathy with the af- 
 flicted widow, in this part of her narration. It 
 was a sympathy, which, I believe, deprived them 
 all of the power of articulation ; a deep silence 
 reigned amongst them, when Mrs. Placid paused, 
 and' looked in expectation of some observation, 
 rinding none, she turned to her daughter — " Thy 
 sister's calamity," said she, " though an awful, 
 may be to thee an improving, lesson. — Thou wast 
 strikingly marked by the eye of sparing mercy. 
 
AFFLlCTlOxN IMPROVED. Ill 
 
 for thou also hadst the scarlet fever, which might 
 have terminated in the same effect. This ought 
 to he a subject ol" unceasing gratitude and praise, 
 ' and the gracious Sparer of thine intellectual powers 
 seems to have a double claim to thine improve- 
 ment of them to his glory." 
 
 By this time the faculty of speech was restored 
 to me, and I asked Airs. Flacid whether her 
 daughter's understanding was entirely lost? " I 
 am thankful/' replied she, " that she is not 
 reduced to an absolute state of idiotism, nor is 
 her appearance so distressing as most persons ia 
 her situation. She is besides extremely manage- 
 able, and perfectly good tempered. These cir- 
 cumstances are great alleviations in the case, but 
 when 1 recollect that strikingly retentive memory 
 she once possessed, exchanged for the vacant 
 stare, and unreflecting repetition ; when I behold 
 her lively irhagitjation, now spending all its powers 
 in useless and unmeaning occupations — O ! my 
 heart is grieved, and my spirits at times depressed, 
 for nature must feel." 
 
 " Feel !" repeated the 'squire, with a strong 
 emphasis, " yes, indeed, and / feel too. 1 hope 
 this is the last of your miseries^ and upon my 
 word I think it the greatest you have yet commu- 
 nicated." 
 
 '' Don't speak of it," returned INIrs. Placid, 
 " in such strong terms. None of the trials which 
 1 have been exercised with, deserve the name of 
 
112 MISERY DEFINED. 
 
 miseries. I am, however, liapp}^ to inform (liee, 
 that this is the hist of my 7)iisitits, as thou callest 
 them, and I h;ive no more to say of myself, in the 
 least worthy of tliinc attention. I thank thee, 
 and our other friends, (looking at each,) for their 
 attention." — '^ Madam," said the collegian, ad- 
 dressing himself to Mrs. Placid, *' I have hoen 
 much interested, and I hope instructed, by your 
 narrative ; but I am rather surprised at your last 
 observation, for 1 must confess, that with this 
 gentleman, (looking at Mr. Bustle,) 1 can give 
 most of your trials no other appellation than rni- 
 serics. If you will not allow them this appellation, 
 will you favour me with the definition of the 
 word misery? " 
 
 Mrs, T'iacid smiled — '^ Thy discourse," said 
 she, " throughout the day, has savoured of scho- 
 larship; thou dost like to have terms and ideas 
 defined. I commend tliee for it, and by so 
 doing thou v>ilt avoid many eriors which the 
 vague and indiscriminating commit. Taken in 
 the abstract, as thou wouldest logically term it, 
 unconnected with my particular views and cir- 
 cumstances, my trials may be called jyiiseric's, 
 but they were so intermixed with mercies, that 
 they could not render me miseralli." The scho- 
 lar, in the true spirit of an obstinate disputant, 
 still appeared dissatisfied, and insisted that the 
 widow harl not })ropcrly defined the word niisin/. 
 *' xSay, friend," she replied, " thuu art too fasti- 
 
THE WAY TO BE HAPPY. 113 
 
 dious; dost thou wish me to harrow up my own 
 feelings and those of our hearers, by describing 
 the nature of positive misery ? Must 1 take thee 
 to the^ field of battle, to the besieged city, and 
 the dying-bed of the convinced sinner, awakened 
 from his infatuated dream, only in time to feel 
 the horrors of his situation, and to exclaim with 
 one of old, under those circumstances, ** The 
 battle is fought, the battle is fought, but the vic- 
 tory is lost for ever !" 
 
 " Wiiy," said our 'squire, turning to the young 
 . gentleman, '^ you scholars are a sort of lawyers, 
 all of you. 1 believe in my conscience your de- 
 light is to perplex every case that comes before 
 you, or else your brains are uncommonly shal- 
 low. / know exactly what the gentleworaaa 
 means to say, without all this preamble and round 
 about. She means to say that irut religion ziiU 
 make its all happi/ in a miserable world. Now da 
 you understand it r" 
 
 " Perfectly, sir," replied the youth, with art 
 arcl] smile, which convinced me the former part 
 of the 'squire's conjecture was the mx)st agreeable 
 :o truth. 
 
 Miss Firiakin now expressed her apprehen- 
 sions, that as the daa-ips of the evening were 
 coming on, her nejjhew would take cold, and heir 
 wish that he mit-htbe accommodated with an in- 
 side place. The scholar said he would make liini 
 an offer of his the next time the coach, haked- 
 
114 THE CAPTAINS RETURxV. 
 
 " I should have thought a soldier better cat out 
 to face evening-damps than a scholar," observed 
 the 'squire ; " and I don't like to j)art with you, 
 for when you don't raise quibbles you are good 
 company." 
 
 The coach soon drew up to a small public- 
 house to water the horses, when the 'squire hal- 
 looed out, " Captain, if you'll behave better than 
 you did tlie last time you were here, the ladies will 
 let 3-ou come in, for 1 understand you don't like 
 any but town air of an evening." The captain's 
 answer escaped my ear, but it was soon discovered, 
 by the approach of the driver to open the door, 
 that the invitation was accepted. " We can 
 make room very well," said Rachel, glancing lier 
 eye towards the collegian, whose departure i 
 shrewdly suspected was as far from her wishes as 
 it was from the 'squire's. He took the hint, and 
 springing forward, seated himself between her 
 and Miss Fhiakiii, who was thus once more com- 
 pelled to endure the miser}/ of travelling seven in 
 ii coach. 
 
 Perhaps some of my readers may wish to know 
 particulars re «; ecting tlie captain's conversatioa 
 and deportment as an inside passenger. If so, they 
 must take the trouble of proceeding a httle farther, 
 and they shall be related as brielly as possible. 
 
115 
 
 CHJP. XL 
 
 An effect produced by evening shadows regrertcd by one pers'^n 
 ill company. Tlie captain addresses the fair Rachel in an ap- 
 propriate speech. Mrs. Placid answers for her. The word 
 Quiz briefly considered, and a few specimens given of the Qiii.'- 
 zirTg art. A political conversation, in which all parties deliver 
 one sentiment. The captain and Miss Finakin arrive at tlioir 
 journey's end. Mrs Placid pronounces upon an object of 
 misery. A happy mother and an amiable son. An action of 
 true gallantry. 
 
 ^\ GENERAL silence-, as if by one consent, 
 pervadet] our party tor a full quarter of an hour^ 
 after the entrance of our gay captain. This cir- 
 cumstance rnay appear surprising, and may be ac- 
 counted for in various ways. 1 supposed the 
 widow's silence arose partly from a conscious 
 ignorance of the suitable topics for convcrsatiori 
 with a fine gentleman. ]\Ir. Bustle, I imagineu, 
 might be pondering certain ideas of a serious na- 
 ttire, whicii tlie widow had suggested. The scho- 
 lar possibly might be solving a problem in Euclid^ 
 and his tair neighbour might be reflecting on the 
 amiable quahties of some favourite broad-brim. 
 The fine lady of course was not wanting for 
 
liG THE RETORT COURTEOUS. 
 
 subjects of reflection ; and as to myself — but I say 
 nothing of myself, lest I should intnir (lie charge 
 of egotism — I regretted the sudden alteration we 
 experienced, and I regretted also another circum- 
 stance, for now, 
 
 " Confess'd from yonder slow extingiiish'd cIouds» 
 '♦ All ffither sort'ning, sober evening takes 
 " Her wonted station in the iniddle-air; 
 " A tiioiisand shadows at her beck." 
 
 And I could l)ave dispensed with that she 
 threw over the face of Mrs. Placid : but she was 
 an arbitrary power, and remonstrance would have 
 been useless. 
 
 Our captain was the first to break the solcnm 
 pause whicli had taken place. He was seated 
 opposite to Rachel, and she had been, through- 
 out the day, an object of his attention. " Let 
 me see," said he, adressing himself to her; " it 
 I mistake not, thou art namesake to her who led 
 our father Jacob a tedious twice seven years' 
 courtship : I hope thou wilt not be so cruel." 
 The light glanced sufficiently on the face of the 
 eentle Rachel for me lo discover a look of con- 
 tempt, which I could hardly have supposed her 
 features capable of expressing, accompanied by 
 a tiini of her face towards her mother, which 
 seeiucd to say, 1 wish th>ni wouldest answer him. 
 " Art liiou a Je.v, friend," said Mrs. Placid, look- 
 ing earnestly at the captain, as if to discover by 
 liis phybiognomy, " that thou callesi Jacob ihy 
 
UNLliCKY WIT. 117 
 
 r:uher r" — '^ O, upon my l>onom/' rejoined lie, 
 evidently a litlle disconcerted, '^ 1 I'orgot that 
 your sect were enemies lo a joke, I really ask par- 
 don ; 1 am so accustomed to humuiir, that I can- 
 not restrain rnyseU' as I ought in coniijlimcnt to 
 my company." 
 
 ^' Don't imagine, friend," replied the widow, 
 
 ' " that our sect are averse to decent tnirth, and 
 
 ' innocent humour. For myself, though I can 
 
 say that \ am decidedly of the poet's opinion, 
 
 that 
 
 " Sense Is tlie di'niond, weighty, solid, sound j" 
 
 yet I also think vvith him, that 
 
 " When cut by wit, it casts a. brighter beam;" 
 
 therefore if thou canst entertain us by some in- 
 nocent lively sallies of this agreeable qur.li y, I 
 do assure thee I shall be as well pleased as any 
 other person in the coach." 
 
 "^ Truly, madam," said the collegian, " were I 
 in the gentleman's situation I should account my- 
 self in a miserable one ; to be requested by a lady 
 to be witty would destroy every effort 1 could 
 possibly make for the purpose." 
 
 " J don't desire impossibilities," rejoined Mrs. 
 Placid ; '' if wit be not thy talent, make thyself 
 easy, thou wilt never want it in thy pulpit." 
 
 '^ I assure you, madam," said the captain, " I 
 am no wit, and what I said to the young lady 
 
118 HACIIEL EEVENGED. 
 
 was designed" " To convince us of jt, 
 
 I suppose/' interrupted JSlr. Bustle; " and, by 
 George, you could not have taken a better me- 
 thod^; for to speak a word to a modest woman, to 
 put her out of countenance, is the silliest thing 
 that can be imagined !" 
 
 Rachel, thought I, thou art amply revenged ! 
 
 It is scarcely probable but that a man of the 
 captain's courage and fashion would take fire at 
 such an abrupt interruption and remark. And 
 no doubt the affair would have produced much 
 altercation between the gentlemen, -had it not 
 fortunately happened that the attention of each 
 party was instantly diverted from the subject, by 
 the sudden stopping of the coach in a part 
 of the road where neither house nor person ap- 
 peared. Miss Fhiakin expressed an alarm, and 
 was sure something must be the maitcr, at the 
 same time requesting her nephew 1,0 make in- 
 quiries. He did so, and was informed that an 
 outside passenger had let his umbrella slide from 
 the top of the coach where he had placed it, and 
 was alighted to pick it up at a small distance. 
 ** \Miat is it old Codger.'" said he ; " Yes, sir," 
 replied the man — '* Quiz him, then," rejoined the 
 captain; "give him a run, and here's half a crown 
 for you." The driver took the hint, smacked his 
 whip, and set off at a speed which our first-rale 
 pedestrians could not have overtaken. " lleally, 
 friend," said Mrs. Placid to the captain, " it 
 
THE ART OF OUIZZ!NG. " II9 
 
 gives me much concern, that as thou dost profess 
 to be guided by the impulses of the moment, 
 thine impulses are not better tempered. How 
 wouldest thou like to be served as thou art now 
 serving friend Codger:" — ''A queer put," re- 
 joined the spark ; " I have quizzed him all the 
 way. He took a glass of ale at the last house 
 we stopped at — I bobbed his elbow, and pop it 
 went into the boot. As to his umbrojla, he has 
 been so careful of it as to march with it in his 
 hand into every inn we have entered, and a musty 
 old proverb, ''Safe bind, safe find," was always 
 spouted on the occasion," 
 
 '' I sliould like, sir," said our scholar. " to know 
 the derivation of the word Quiz. From Greece, 
 or Rome, sir?"—*' Faith, 1 can't say," returned 
 the captain ; " I am only concerned with its appli- 
 cation ; apropos, 1 was engaged a \'e\\ nii;hts ago 
 with three smart fellows^ my intimate friends, in 
 a good quiz for a watchman. We passed by about 
 three o'clock, the dog was fast asleep in his box, 
 we hoisted our strength, and down we laid him on 
 his side like a snail in his house, taking care 
 though to lock the door, or else he'd have quizzed 
 us bv marcliinof out.'' 
 
 '' Why, sir," said Mr. Bustle, " this is a stale 
 joke; for when I was a boy, I am sure I read it 
 somewhere; I have a bad memory in reading 
 matters, but I think it was in the Spectator." — " If 
 soi sir," observed the collegian, " and the young 
 
 4 
 
120 liiE SI all: jok l. 
 
 gentlemen were-nol so well informed, it proves 
 tUat tlie bucks of the present age are not degene- 
 lated in their intellectual powers oi invention. 
 Have you any more quizzing achievements of a 
 more juodcrii dale to commuuicate, sir r" 
 
 " VVe have lost some of our gitizzing fun,'" le- 
 joined the spark, " as it respects ihe ladies, for 
 they are now so used to our qui/zing-glasscs, 
 that they don't value them of a rush — and being 
 provided with some for themselves, they very 
 wisely level them in return ; and so a general 
 fjuiz goes round with all parties. We had a 
 good one though, a little time since, af the play- 
 house. Two of us were in a box with a pretty 
 looking lass, with her maiflen aunt, front the 
 country,- and a young prigish chap, who looked 
 like her brother. Their whole souls were wrapped 
 _ up in the play, a thing never known among>t 
 })eople of style. We feigned bad colds, and 
 every time Sidclons was displaying in Lady Mac- 
 beth her finest tones of voice, we contrived to 
 make some noise peculiar to our afFected nia- 
 ladv. The old lady turning round with a " Pray, 
 sir, be so kind as not to cough so close to my 
 ear;" the gentleman between every act observ- 
 ing, with an audible voice, that persons with 
 colds should never go into public ; and the young 
 lass, looking as cross as her face would permit, 
 venturing now and then to cast a frowning 
 glance, when in return we levelled our glasses. 
 
MORE QUIZZING. 121 
 
 and pop went lier face away in a moment. But 
 the best quiz I ever knevv was at an author, 
 
 who" " 1 wish, friend," interrupted 
 
 Mrs. Placid, " thou woiildest cease tor a while 
 from the recital of thy quizzing exploits, to consi- 
 der the case of the poor passenger, now suffering 
 imder the influence of one of them — [ am sure we 
 must have gone a mile at this rate ; it is dark, and 
 our running friend is much to be pitied. Do, [ 
 entreat thee, exercise thy sympathy, and desire 
 the coach to stop, that we may wait his arrival." 
 
 Contrary to my expectations, our captain hailed 
 the coach-man, said old Codger had been quizzed 
 enough, and gave him leave to slop; in about ten 
 minutes the quizzed object came up with us, almost 
 breathless with speed and anxiety. '• Well, sir," 
 asked the captain, "have yon recovered your um- 
 brella r" — "Tis safe enough, I have no doubt, sir," 
 replied he, " on the top of the coach, and if you 
 want yom's, you'll find it a mile Ixihind, if you'll 
 take the same trouble which 1 have done ; for the 
 moment I cast my eye on the lost sheep, I disco- 
 vered you were the owner, not 1." So saving, the 
 man moujit^^d the roof, and called out, as loud as he 
 was able, — '^ Aye, aye, here it is safe enough, if you 
 had taken your's inside witli you, you would have 
 found that " safe bind is safe find." — " Thou art an 
 iU-tenipercd old fellow," replied the captain, " for 
 ]jot stooping to pick up thy neighbour's umbrr-lla." 
 — '^ Vou should have kept your wise head inside 
 
 M 
 
122 THE QUIZZER QUIZZED. 
 
 tlie window," rejoined the man, " when you gave 
 your orders to the driver, and then you would liave 
 saved your uuibrella." The dialogue here ended, 
 and the captain, a goo9 deal disconcerted, re- 
 seated himself. "Verily, friend," said Mrs. Vlacid, 
 " thou art fjuizzed." 
 
 " But the author," said the collegian ; — " allow 
 the gentleman, now, madam, if you please, to finish 
 his quizzing story of the author." The captain 
 proceeded — " A shy bashful fellow, with a phiz as 
 ordinary as ever genius possessed, wrote a volume 
 of poems, and without prefixing his name, sold it 
 to a bookseller. One day 1 put on the gravest air 
 imaginable, and assured him that I was informed, 
 from indisputable authority, that his likeuef^s had 
 been stolen, and that it was his bookseller's inten- 
 tion to prefix it in the title page of his book, with- 
 out his knowledge or permission. Fired at the in- 
 telligence, he instantly seated himself, and wrote in 
 the strongest terms of angry resentment to the 
 bookseller, and insisted upon his relinquishing a 
 design so unwarrantable on his part, and so repug- 
 nant to his own feelings. 1 he next post brouijht 
 him a few lines in reply : wherein his bookseller as- 
 sured him, that, being convinced the profits of his 
 volume would not pay the expense of a copper- 
 plate, and fearing that he would not gain celebrity 
 sufficient to excite a public desire of beholding his 
 pliysiognoniy, he had not taken the liberty of which 
 he complained." 
 
QUIZZING BUONAPAKTE. 123 
 
 " Really," said the collegian, " 1 had no idea 
 before of" the miseries inflicted by quizzing; and 
 being ot" a sympathetic Irame, 1 will not request 
 liirther information. Sir, you have been amply 
 revenged of genius and modesty, ii' they liave ever 
 offended you." 
 
 " 1 wish with all my heart," <;bscrved Mr. Bustle, 
 " that the bucks would set their heads to work, and 
 hit upon some invention to quiz Buonaparte." 
 
 The conversation now took a political direction, 
 and here all parties agreed extremely well, for all 
 were united in one sentiment — That to love their 
 king and country, res|ject the constitution, and 
 obey its laws, were the duties required from Eng- 
 lishmen. Mr. Budli, indeed, duelt largely on our 
 wooden-walls, and insular situation, vvhicli he in- 
 sisted would ever be a match for Trencli invaders, 
 which occasioned Mri. Placid to caution him 
 against presumption, and ascribing tlie salvation 
 of his country to second causes. And the captain 
 inveighed in the harshest terms against the com- 
 mon enemy, whicli drew from her a few mild re- 
 monstrances, and an exhortation to love our ad- 
 versaries of every description, and to pray for the 
 spiritual interest even of a BuoNAPAini'. 
 
 Our political debate was scarcely ended, when 
 the coach stopt live miles short of its linal designa- 
 tion, where we found we were to part with the cap- 
 tain and Miss Finaklii. The latter declared she 
 was so miserably fatigued, that she could with dif- 
 
124 BEGINNING TO SEPARATE. 
 
 ficulty alight; and in a tone of voice scarcclv au- 
 clihlej vvisheil us a good evening. " Good even- 
 ing to you, madam/' returned Mr. BustU, in a 
 tone of perfect contrast — " take my advice, go to 
 bed earlier at night, and rise with the sun in the 
 morning, and you'll soon be stout enough in htalili 
 to bear a stage-coacli jumble." 
 
 " Sure," said the scholar, as we again drove on, 
 " it is no minor misery to spend a v.l;ole day with 
 a line hidy !" — " Yes," replied I, " when compared 
 with the misery of being married to one." 
 
 " They are [)Oor vain creatures," said Mrs. Pla- 
 (id, '' but they ougiit to be the objects of our pity, 
 nicher than of our contempt. I commiserate the 
 Slate of mind wliich is constantly occupied by the 
 frivolous occurrences of time, and has no relish for 
 the sublime delights of devotion ; but turns wiih 
 aversion from Christian conversation. To such 
 persons, old age indeed is a terrific enemy, and we 
 cannot wonder to behold the absutd means they 
 take to disguise its approach from others, and, if 
 possible, from themselves. A line lady in the vuie 
 of years is a miserable object." 
 
 After a few more sage observations of a similar 
 nature had fallen from Mrs. l*lacid, we arrived 
 at the house where our scholar was impatiently 
 cx[)ected by his anxious mother. We saw her 
 head peeping over the shoulder of the servant 
 who o[)encd the door. Having [neviously i;il<on 
 a [)olite leave of us, and ordered the driver to se- 
 
THE SCnOLAll's HOME. 125 
 
 cure Lis portiiiaiiteau — the youth sprang out of 
 the coacli, and into her arms in a moment. 
 
 " Happy mother!" said Mrs. Placid, "thy feel- 
 ings are enviable!" She sighed, and added, " Yet 
 why should I envy thee ?" 
 
 In a few seconds we reached the inn, where 
 Mrs. Placid was rather surprised at not finding a 
 male acquaintance who had engaged to meet her, 
 and be her escort to the house of her friend. The 
 'squire took his leave ot her witli a hearty shake of 
 the hand, and an assurance that his wife should 
 cull on her in less than three days. 
 
 1 followed the widow and her daughter into 
 the inn — for I assure the reader that whatever 
 opinion he may have formed of me, I had too 
 much gallantry to leave a lady in such a situa- 
 tion. J called for a glass of wine and water, 
 and prevailed on each lady to take one sip. 1 he 
 events which afterwards took place we will relate 
 ivx ihe*nest chapter » 
 
 M 3 
 
12G 
 
 CIIJP. XII. 
 
 The arrival of a stranger — liis adventure in his way to the inn, 
 from which his business was to coiiduct Mrs. Piacid. An untyL- 
 pected discovery, and a resolution formed by Mrs. Placid. A 
 deeply-regretted farewell takes place. Society pronounced 
 necessary to happiness. The unspeakable blessings conferred 
 on man in the gift of the gospel. 
 
 iVlRS. Placid expressed some uneasiness at llie 
 non-appearance of her friend, but desired me 
 not to defer my departure on that account, as she 
 made no doubt but that he would soon arrive. 
 I assured her, vviili great sincerity, that I was 
 in no haste to quit lier company, in which I had 
 found much satisfaction. *' Friend," said she, 
 '' thou hast conversed but little to-day, yet from 
 that lii'le I am convinced that, if titou chooicst, 
 thou canst talk to the purpose; tliis being the 
 case, 1 Would recommend tliee to be more ready 
 to communicate thy >>. ntiments ; for I am not 
 quite sure whether those persons who are ca[)ablc 
 of rational discourse have a riglU to be silent." 
 
 While I was reilecting upon a proper return 
 to this unexpected address from the widow, 
 4 
 
FRIEN'D BROADBRIM. 127 
 
 I her friend entered. He was a tall majestic figure, 
 i with a tremendous broad-brim on bis head. As 
 there appeared no peculiar marks of animation in 
 his countenance on first beholding her, 1 con- 
 chided no particular interest attracted him to tiie 
 spot. " 1 fear," said lie, " I have kept thee 
 waiting." — " Not long," she returned, " and this 
 . friend," looking at me, " has taken good care of 
 us." I received from the stranger a look of com- 
 placency, and tiie sliort sentence, — " Thou hast 
 acted kindly." — " It rains," said he, turning again 
 to Mrs. F/ucid ; '^ at least it did vvhenl came 
 in, and therefore I recommend thee to Wciit a few 
 minutes, till the shower, as I believe it to be, is 
 over." The lady acqtsiesced in the proposal, and 
 1 was also furnished with an excuse to continue a 
 little longer in her comp.uiy. 
 
 " In my way hither," said the Friend, " I met 
 with an adventure, or rather with a circumstance, 
 which has excited a considerable interest in my 
 mind." — He paused — " If it is not impertinent, 
 sir," said I, '^njay we be informed r" — '' Not in the 
 least, friend,' he returned; and placing a chair 
 by my side, look his seat, with his hat upon his 
 head, and a stout walking-stick supporting his 
 two hands. " Supposing myself too early," said 
 he, " for the arrival of the stage, I called in my 
 way at our county jail, as is frequently my cus- 
 tom, in order to inform myself of the wants of 
 those sons of misery inclosed v.'ithin its precincts. 
 
128 MURDER FOUND OUT. 
 
 I was lold that an iiiiluip})y wretch had been com- 
 mitted yesterday, taken hi the act of robbing on 
 the liigbway ; and seeing that there was no pos- 
 sibility of his escapiiig from justice, he had con- 
 fessed oiher acts of atrocity, particularly being 
 privy to, though not personally concerned in, 
 the robbery and murder of one John Turnround, 
 u few days since, by throwing him into a river. 
 It was supposed he made these confessions for 
 the casement of hit; conscience, or, possibly, under 
 some vague idea of their efficacy in point of 
 atonement, either to his God or his fellow-crea- 
 tures." — " I hope," said I to Mrs. Placid, " tlie 
 landlord of the George will hear of this — pray, 
 sir, proceed." 
 
 " 1 wished," continued the benevolent stran- 
 ger, '* to be adniitted to the presence of the mi- 
 serable sinner; and I accordingly communicated 
 my desire, and was soon ushered into his cell. 
 He lay upon the ground, as is usually the case, J 
 have observed, with those in his situation — whe- 
 ther this attitude proceeds from the nature of their 
 
 feeling, their desire of concealment, or" 
 
 *' it is not material to determine," interrupted 
 ^Irs. Placid, whose lively delivery, and quickness 
 of idea, ill accorded with the deliberation of her 
 friend, and whose interest was also excited in th.e 
 story he had to communicate. 
 
 *' Perhaps not," rejoined the narrator, " but 
 •when 1 see an effect^ 1 like to investigate the 
 
THE CULPRIT. 1 'J9 
 
 cause. The poor wretch raised his head as I en- 
 tered, then started with a look or horror in his 
 countenance, and placed his hands before his 
 eyes. I advanced nearer towards hiin— '^ W here- 
 fore," said i, '' this emotion? Be not alarmed at 
 my plain appearance; I am come to relieve thy 
 Wants, both spiritual and tem[)oral; the latter 
 indeed I may engage for, but tlse former can only 
 be attempted under a divine blessing." — " You 
 are tlie last person I could wish to see," rejoined 
 the poor creature, still averting his face. 
 
 " Thy words," replied I, " are to nie incom- 
 preheuiiible. Thou canst not be acquainted vvilli 
 my person, and I am not thine accuser." — '' Yes, 
 but you are," said he, wiihdrawing his hand and 
 staring so wildly on me, that I was deliberating 
 whether the most prudential method would not be 
 to summon the turn-key, lest peradventure the ob- 
 ject before me was a lunatic, instead of a criminal. 
 " Yes, but you are," repeated he, before I had 
 determined what part to act; ''your dress and 
 vour speech arc my accusers." — " ^'^y>' thought 
 J, '^ poor man, thou art certainly deranged, and 
 my person may be in danger." J turned round in 
 the full intention of quitting (at least for thic pre- 
 sent) the cell, when he appeared more composed, 
 and in an earnest tone of voice entreated me to 
 slay. " I have confessed," said he, " many 
 crimes, and to you I must confess one more, be- 
 cause it. was committed against one of your sect. 
 
130 THE PENITENT. 
 
 Amiable creature ! I see thee now," cried he, fix- 
 ing his e}es as it were upon something, which 
 again alarmed me, supposing him, as I had occa- 
 sion to remark before, to be disordered in his in- 
 tellects. He still kept staring upon vacancy, and 
 exclaimed with a tone ot" voice, and a look of de- 
 spair, I believe I shall never forget : — " The e\e 
 of God is upon me, and I have robbed the fa- 
 therless and the widow !" — Friend, thou turnest 
 pale," said the narrator to Mru. Placid; " art thou 
 unwell? or is thy tender heart too much affected 
 by my relation ?" 
 
 " Don't be apprehensive about me," replied 
 Mrs. Placid ; "' I am not lil, but more interested 
 in ihy account than thou hast reason to suppose. 
 Be prevailed on to proceed as quickly as thou 
 canst." 
 
 '' J conjecture from thy word*:, although there 
 is little method in them," replied 1, " that thou 
 hast robbed one of our society — I hope not mur- 
 dered on'v of them f'' — " Mo, no," said he; " God 
 is niv witness I would lioi have killed her to save 
 my life." — "■ This is not thy mL.st aggravated of- 
 fence then," returned 1. "No," rejoined he; 
 " but it dwells upon my soul with a weight, which 
 nothing but her forgiveness can remove." — " Thou 
 shalt have it to-morrow," said Mrs. Placid, with 
 an earnestness which alarmed her friend. He 
 rai-cd his hat higli upon \\\>^ forehead, and gazed 
 upon her animated countenance with some sur- 
 
THE CONVERT. 131 
 
 prise. She perceived his astonishment — "^ It is a 
 long storey, friend," said she, " and I can find a 
 more convenient opportunity of telhng thee of it; 
 but I have no doubt but this unhappy man is the 
 one who robbed me about ten years since. Be so 
 kind as to proceed." 
 
 " Ifso," rejoined the Friend, " thou hast been 
 in Ireland in the course of thy ministry, of which 
 1 do not recollect being ever informed." — '^ Even 
 so/' replied the widow — " thou shalt be informed 
 of this too, which is nothing to the purpose at 
 present." . She spoke this with somewhat of an im- 
 patient air. — " It is much to the purpose," re- 
 joined her deliberate friend, " for this poor un- 
 happy wretch who robbed thee, had, as he in- 
 formed me, an accomplice in the affair, who 
 heard thee speak in Ireland, and who heard thee 
 not in vain. Thou wast made the instrument of 
 convincing him of his lost estate, and he died two 
 years afterwards blessing thy name, and in the 
 hope of the pardon of his manifold transgres- 
 sions throufjh that Saviour thou hadst described." 
 Mrs. Placid did not attempt a reply to this unex- 
 pected intelligence, but her countenance strongly 
 expressed the pleasing emotions it occasioned. 
 *' I will accompany thee to this poor man to- 
 morrow," said she. " Nothing unforeseen pre- 
 Vfuting, thou shalt," returned her friend. " I 
 am strongly inclined to hope that those deep con- 
 vietions which he experiences, will be followed 
 
IJ'2 CON'S0LATH;N. 
 
 by saving cftects. lie ap; ears also to possess a 
 good uiiderstancling, and I am greatly mistaken it' 
 that valuable gift hath not been improved by edu- 
 cation ; for I perceived no grammatical errors in 
 his conversation, which are usiialiy discoverable in 
 persons ot" circumscribed information, i should 
 have continued longer uidi hiin, but my time was 
 expired, and 1 was unwilling to make thee wait." 
 
 *' Did you leave him more composed than you 
 found hail, sirr" said I. " I cannot determine 
 that point," replied lie : '' he certainly was not 
 so wild in his deportment, and I would tain {lat- 
 ter myself that the words of consolation I address- 
 ed to him, made some desirable impression ; but 
 of this I shall be a better judge to-morrow." — 
 " How came he informed/' asked Mis. Placid, 
 " of the happy effect of my words on the mind of 
 Lis guilty companion r'' — '* By a letter which he 
 wrote to him from Ireland. ' O,' said he, * that 
 1 had attended to that letter! But I answered it in 
 the most hardened style, glorying in mv sins!' 
 iVow that he answered it at all, argues, 1 think, a 
 probability that my conjecture of liis having re- 
 ceived the advantage of an education, is not 
 groundless." 
 
 " Very true," replied !Mrs. Placid — " I will 
 be obliged by thy looking out to see if the rain be 
 over; for I wish to arrive at the end of my jour- 
 ney." With a slow pace her friend walked out 
 to ascertain the point. " My friend," said she. 
 
PAKDON. 135 
 
 'Mias contracted a leu' peculiarities of manner, 
 for want of a more extended intercourse with the 
 world, wliich those who know liim best, can best 
 excuse." — '' I already know him well enough/' 
 returned I, "■ to pardon all his eccentricities, were 
 riiey ever so numerous." — He soon rettu'ned with 
 tlie intelligence that tlie rain was much abated, 
 and that he had good reason to believe the clouds 
 nearly dispersed. The widow, therefore, began 
 to make preparations for her departure, securliig 
 the drapery of herself and daughter, by a careful 
 folding, from tlie effects of dirty streets. 1 had 
 no pretext to remain longer in her company, yet 
 I felt an unreasonable reluctance to bid her adieu. 
 At length I presented her (with a more gentle a.ir 
 than the 'squire had previously done) my hand, 
 which she condescended to shake, saying at the 
 same time, with a complacent smile, " Farewell." 
 I soon arrived at my own habitation, where a 
 faithful male and i'emale servant, a dog, and a cat, 
 were waiting to receive me. My solitary situa- 
 tion forcibly affected me. Man, thought 1, is 
 formed for society. That of the warm-hearted 
 'squire, and the amiable scholar, became by turns 
 the object of my wishes; but my mind dwelt 
 with peculiar pleasure on the pious and benevo- 
 lent widow. And had I possessed the indispensa- 
 ble requisite to gain her favour — a broad brim- 
 med hat — I am not sure whether all my persuasive 
 eloquence would not have been, exerted, in the 
 
 N. 
 
WA THE FAREWELL. 
 
 endeavour to make her forget licr long-lost Za- 
 charijis. I lollowecl her in idea to the melan- 
 choly abode of misery, which she purposed on 
 the morrow to visit. 'J'here I beheld her tread- 
 ing in the ste[)S of her divine Master, practising 
 the lesson of forgiveness he had taught her, aiuV 
 publishing, in his name, salvation to the chief of 
 sinners. From this pleasing contemplation my 
 heart was raised into a frame ofgrattful praise 
 for the unspeakable blessing of the Gospel, u hich 
 has not only opened the way to eternal happiness, 
 but meliorates every evil incident to human na- 
 ture ; which, to use the words of a pious writer, 
 " becomes all things to all men — the instruction 
 of babes, the c-onsolation and joy of old age, the 
 provision of poverty, the monitor of riches, and 
 the refuge oft/ie vmerahler 
 
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