DUKE UNIVERSITY DIVINITY SCHOOL LIBRARY FRANK BAKER COLLECTION OF WESLEYANA AND BRITISH METHODISM Nat PS Se —— ‘VILLAGE DEALOGUBS;, BETWEEN FARMER LITTLEWORTH, THOMAS NEWMAN, REV. MR, LOVEGOOD, AND OTHERS. BY REV. ROWLAND HILL, A.M. —— =— =e = ee 2 Thomas. See, Master, what a deal of weeds and rubbish we have got together within these few days; and when we have got them all on a heap, ' we shall burn them out of the way. May the Lord do the same in all our hearts! Dracocus I. =< TWENTY-SECOND EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL DIALOGUES AND ENLARGEMENTS: =a MHith Ctoenty-sie Cignettes, =o VOL. II. London: PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, CHEAPSIDE ; Sold by T. KELLY, KNIGHT and LACEY, W. BAYNES and SON, Paternoster Roy; and F. WESTLEY, Stationers? Court. J. Haddon, Printer, Tabernacle Walk. 1825. . . ; “ > - pbky se rioting 5 iy Tomy ou - a : > < _ edu) bate | een wR eee JO8 ey cat Fs WS ATOR hae PE ana Sy} "aeaterst i? 2 ae ny SA A tony tential op DIALOGUE il. Ill. IV. | ti, toe es wine IV, Ps ‘ - aw oY CONTENTS. 7 & a Cottage piety . »- - + + » CU ee nn i | Genuine repentance exemplified On baptismal regeneration . V. Encouragement to come to the sacrament. . VI. The Church defended against false friends . + VII. Vill. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. The evils of stage exhibitions . The prodigal’s conversion . . Utility of Sunday Schools ~. . The prodigal’sreturn ... . * Evils of the slavetrade . . . UGE Myc atier, e gee Wiel aw ‘Characters delineated . . . . Justification, &c. considered . Evils of the slave trade considered Socinianism unmasked . . PTO Helio a deah Ce isu es The evils of seduction. . . . Ditto a ry ° ° ° ry e e e% Character of Ministers exemplified Ditto e eae e e@ e e e e aki ey PAGE 1 17 . 35 i’ 58 67 81 + + « 104 - + 9 127 o 2 « 945 - + . 168 - = 2189 - « . 198 . . «214 + 2") ao - + «250 oes ee 2 + + 286 «A; ope +, 2, 044 2 + + 370 2 + - 401 CONTENTS, VOL. II DIALOGUE XXII. Conjugal fidelity . . 2...) se XXIII. Evils of seduction . . . » « 6 + « 26] XXIV. Self-righteousness examined . « . « « 40° XXV. Ditto .. ot oa very ler pi {ep e O49 XXVI. The happy death of Mr. Chipees a, o, Oe XXVII. Dr. Orderly on Justification . . . . . 90 XXVIII. Alderman Greedy’s character. . . - . 119 XXIX. The departure of the Lovely’s from Squire . Worthy’s, . , 2 505 )elgeeeen «Seem XXX. Awful death of Alderman Greedy ¢ . + 141 XXXI. Mr. Lovely’s benevolence . . . =e - 154 XXXII. Tke happy marriage of Miss Worthy and : Mr. |Merryman ....- ; «), eyiei jeg aes ae XX XIII. Mrs. Chipman’s return to Locksbury . . 191 XXXIV. Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Fribble at Locksbury 209 XXXYV. Sectarian bigotryexposed . . . « . . 235 XXXVI. On improper marriages. . . . +: -> > 264 XXXVII. Antinomianism unmasked . «. . «. . . 281 AAXVIL Ditto . . . 5 24 ee eee XXXIX. Sickness of Mr. Merryman . . . . . 324 5 ML. Ditto 6 ponelhGencp 58) Ate re XLI. Death and funeral of Mr. Merryman . ... . 359 XL. The happy termination of the melancholy event of the death of Mr. Merryman cia ane XLIII. Enthusiasm detected . . . . . «+. « 385 XLIV. The rake’s progressandruin . « « - 405 XLV. Prison meditations. .. » 2. = «4 « yapAOl XLVI. Ditto 2... + + XLVII. Benevolence triumphant. . . . . + . 451 DIRECTIONS FOR THE BINDER TO PLACE THE VIGNETTES. —_——— VOLUME I. Rev. Row.anp Hitv’s Portrait to face the title Page = pics _° Farmer Littleworth and Thomas Newman in conver- sation ----------------------- 9 Thomas Newman’s Cottage - - ----------- [| Farmer Littl vorth and his daughter Nancy receiving the Sacrament ------------------ i baat Return from the Play ----------------- 107 Brookfield Church - ----------------- 148 Return of the Prodigal ---------------- 177 Weak Minds scared by superstitious notions - - - - - 219 Sancho’s Father killed - --------------- 256 ETERS SS gh eh oa cade 84 Parson Doolittle falling from his horse while hunting 322 Sun Golden Lion -— = = =Heete yet! 32 Seti et Ie 356 Mr. Merryman assisting a Poor Soldier - - -- -- - 375 HeEith of Mrs; Goodworth!) 7 2 - 2S ola 2 is 391 DIRECTIONS FOR THE BINDER TO PLACE THE VIGNETTES. VOLUME II. PAGE Brookfield, Halt - -.-., ~ oi, *»% see) Sette ee Mr. Lovely and the Considerates m the Aviary . . . 90 Awful death of Sistiee Greedy 2 7 OL aS Mr. Lovely relieving a toor Family . .. . . . 158 Happy Martase ~. . 0... Ss Mr. Considerate’s two Children drowned . . « . » 184 Duel between Sir Charles Dash and Captain O’Blunder 200 Mrs. Chipman’s return to her Father . . . . « ~ 202 Mrs. Chipman embracing her child . . . . . « + 205 Furniture of Rev. Mr. Fribble’s room . . . « « « 210 Funeral of the Rev. Mr. Merryman. . . . « . «~ 362 The Cock Fight. . . . . » . 415 Sam Blood, Ned Sparkish, nd Will F voli in pai - 443 BROOKFIELD HALL, THE SEAT OF SAMUEL WORTHY, ESQ. VILLAGE DIALOGUES. DIALOGUE XXII, MR. WORTHY, MR LOVELY, AND OTHERS. = -. THE CONTRAST; OR, CONJUGAL HAPPINESS, FOUNDED ON CHASTITY, FIDELITY, AND AFFECTION. Beek goes to Brookfield-hall on the follow- ing morning, after the arrival of his new guests, . while the family were at breakfast, and begs to speak to Mr. Worthy. Edward is introduced. Edw. Sir, your honor said that I must call on you if the gentleman and lady, who came to our house yesterday evening, wanted any thing. They want nothing but the liberty to walk in your honor’s park ; and they are so pleased with the situation, and so well contented with our plain way of accommodating them, that they mean to stop over Sunday ; for I made. =" bold to tell them, what a wonderful fine man we have for the Minister of our Parish, and that it was he who made the verses your honor had put over the door - but I should be ashamed to put them into our pew. © Wor. Well Edward, there will be no difficulty on that score, for though we are pretty well crowded with Mr. Considerate’s family and our own, yet my daughters can sit with Mrs. Lovegood, and then we shall have room for them. . VoL, It. B ? 2 DIALOGUE XXII. Mrs. Wor. But do you want any thing for their accommodation ? Edw. Nothing madam, but Mrs. Trusty’s receipt, with your leave,.to make some jellies: the lady is in a very poor state of health, and he is so tender of her! They seem to be a most loving pair.---Poor Mrs. Chipman! the sight of it quite cuts her to the heart ; she is always saying she might have been as happy as they are, if it had not been for her own folly, and ‘he evil consequences of sin. Mrs. Wor. Trusty shall send some jellies to your house directly. Wor. Perhaps a little fruit also may be acceptable? Edw. Why, the Lady was asking if we had any, and we gathered some cherries and strawberries for them; but it is not in our way to raise such dainties as your honor has at the Hall. Wor. I shall tell the gardener to send them a bas- ket of fruit, and I shall call on you to-morrow, and invite them to tea. Edw. Thank your honor. The dear gentleman, (and I am sure by his kind and good behavior,, he _ must be some downright gentleman ;) he thinks about nothing but his wife: she is very sickly, and he is sadly afraid he will lose her. Wor. I hope it is not another Sir Charles and Lady Dash’s story. Edw. O Sir! their behavior is so different, it - cannot be :—I am sure it cannot be. Wor. Have you learnt the gentleman’s name? Edw. Why Sir, when their servant sat down to supper with us, I made bold to ask him.—His name is Lovely. He came from a place called Fairfield, near Grediton. It is amazing what a eharacter the man gives his master and mistress, and what an affect- ing story he tells about them : I think there have been nothing but affecting stories at our house of late; as ' how he married against the consent of his rich uncle; ~ and that he is very angry with him: nut I can seareely tell your honor the rights of it. sii: CONJUGAL FIDELIT YZ. 3 [On the next day Mr. Worthy accomplished his hospitable design : the first introductory tea-table con- versation being not of sufficient importance to be narrated, shall be omitted. After tea, as the weather proved lowering, Mrs. Lovely continued the guest of Mrs. Worthy, while Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovely took a short walk about the gardens: and when seated in the green-house, the following conversation took place. ] ’ Wor. I am afraid Sir, you meet with very plain ac- commodations at the Golden Lion, though I am satis- fied the worthy landlord and his wife, will according to the best of their ability, make you as comfortable as they can in their homely way. Lov. O Sir! nothing can delight us more than our __ present accommodations. As we passed by we stopt » to read the poetry; and it struck us so exceedingly, that..we thought we would gratify our curiosity by going into the house. Wecalled for tea, and were astonishingly pleased with the neat and decent appeat~ ance of matters, that we at once determined to sto short of Mapleton, where we intended to have slept. Besides, we were so struck with the enchanting scenery from the lovely situation of the village, the neighbour- i hood being so beautifully dressed by the taste you have ~ displayed about your own house and pleasure-grounds, that we next determined to continue, at least, a few days in our present quarters. ¢ Wor. Have you a long journey then before you, ir? Lov. Oh no Sir! I am only taking easy journies from place to place, by the advice of our physician, to see if any thing can be done for the recovery of the health and spirits of that invaluable creature, ‘who has been my wife for about these six months. We are under peculiar embarrassments, [he hesitates and wipes his eyes, then adds,] my relations, some of whom are very affluent, are exceedingly displeased at the marriage, and I am afraid lest I should lose the best of wives by the affliction eae od 4 DIALOGUE XXI1, Wor. I know Sir, how indelicate it is to ask you questions of this sort, as it seems almost bordering upon impertinence ; but may I suppose your only crime has been, that you were captivated by a very amiable young woman, whose birth and education were inferior to your own. Lov. O Sir! no apology is needed; and our minds have suffered so severely by this event, that it will be a great indulgence to me, especially as I have taken the liberty to enquire so much into your cha- racter since [ have been here, if you will allow me to be more particular. Wor. We cannot well leave our present retreat, as it begins to rain; and whatever you communicate shall be in confidence. Lov. Oh no Sir! no confidence is necessary. ‘The part my dearest wife and I have acted, may be pub- lished in every newspaper throughout the kingdom and it will never put us to the blush. Wor. Sir, after such a declaration of your honor- able conduct, I cannot be less anxious to hear your story, than you are to relate it. Lov. Sir, before you can fully understand matters, I must first give you a short history of our family connexions. * My .father has a small hereditary estate, which clears him between five and six hun- dred a year, and that he might increase his fortune, he engaged with others in a large brewery. He married a Miss Greedy, whose family is very rich, but as it is the scheme of that family, like many others, to hoard up all for the eldest son, her for- tune was nothing greater than my father had a tight to expect, it being only three thousand pounds. By that marriage my father had five children; my younger brother died almost an infant. So that our family at present consists of myself-and three sisters ; two of these are creditably married, and for this they have to thank my father, who being a per- son of strict irtegrity, never saw it just to make such CONJUGAL FIDELITY. 5 a vast difference between his children: and having thus, by care and attention, portioned off my sisters with very decent fortunes, he tells me I have little to expect from him but the family estate. Wor. Well Sir, I congratulate you in having a father of such integrity and worth. I am surprised that he should have been so displeased at your mar- riage. Bob. He displeased at the marriage ;—no dear Sir, it met with his highest approbation ; and he has not a daughter of his own that he can love better than my dearest wife ; she was a creditable tradesman’s daughter, or rather in the mercantile line; well edu- cated, and brought into the family with her eight hundred pounds on the day of her marriage. But O Sir! if you did but know half her excellencies, you would say she was the greatest fortune imaginable in herself, inestimable beyond the value of money. It has been the displeasure of my rich uncle, my mother’s brother, which has been the cause of our perplexity. Wor. What was that to him, if your marriage was conducted with so much purity, chastity, and pro- priety, and with the consent of your parents ? Lov. Sir, it was greediness and family pride. I - have tainted the blood of the family, by marrying a tradesman’s daughter, when I might have enriched it by marrying the daughter of an Earl; and my mo- ther unhappily joined with him in all his objections. Wor. But you are not of his family after all; and how could you, with your comparatively small fortune, and when even that was not to be yours till after your father’s death, support the daughter of an Earl, in the hs Ja style in which they generally expect to ive! ; Lov. O Sir! but he meant to make me his heir. Wor. What then, had your uacle no children of his own? Lov. Sir, he never was married for the sake of an offspring, but that he might enlarge his property. He therefore availed himself of the folly of a rich widow, 6 DIALOGUE XXII. who was fifteen years older than himself ; and when he had possessed himself of her fortune, he treated her most cruelly. However, he had plenty of chil- dren, as is supposed, by other women ; for he is a most debauched character, and at the same time a most extortionate miser, though he was sfill fond of making a family show; and till lately he meant to make a son he had, by a married woman. in that neighbour- hood, his heir ; as she was, and as they call it, better bred than most of the low women with whom he had been connected ; and the children he had by these, being ashamed to own them, he would have packed off to nurse, at the cheapest rate possible ; and no- thing rejoices him so much, as when he hears of the death of any of them. Wor. How came he to alter his mind, and not make the son you mention his heir? Lov. Sir, he educated him for that purpose, but in so mean a way, and introduced him among such a terrible set of low associates, that he turned out quite a blackguard : and being educated under such large expectations, he became also very extravagant: and as his father was too covetous to give him remit- tances equal to his extravagance, he got himself con- nected with a set of swindlers ; and that he might be able to pay some gaming-debts, he committed such crimes, that he was obliged to leave the country, or be sent to gaol; my uncle therefore gave him fifty pounds, and sent him to America, and it is reported, that he died there of the yellow fever. Wor. What horrid evilsare connected with such a life of debauchery, that a man should be such a de- testable brute* thereby, as to be ashamed of his own offspring, even so as to wish them dead! How dif- ferent the happy state of those children, whose ex- istence is their parents’ boast and joy; how I hate the low libidinous tricks of the present evil, adulter- ous generations ! * In this respect, man, by his debauchery, ts even BENEATH A BRUTE. CONJUGAL FIDELITY. 7 Lov. Sir, I am sure it is impossible to detest them worse than they deserve. However my uncle, after - the death of this, his profligate bastard, as I was his heir-at-law, began to think of adopting me as such.— My father could never bear the name of him; yet when he was frequently sending for me, he advised me by no means to insult him by personal incivilities, as his property, according to legitimate right, would next be mine. As my uncle ordered me I therefore went to his house ; when the more I knew of him, the more I was disgusted at him. Wor. Were you obliged to live pretty constantly with him then? Lov. Notentirely so: for 1 was always striving to make an excuse of absence ; and the argument, which best succeeded with him, was about the brewery ; that as my father farmed a good deal of his own estate, he would be a considerable loser in the brewery, unless I kept the accounts ; for my uncle never had but two objects in view,—by every means, however base some of those means might be, to enrich the family, and to gratify his impure desires. . Wor. Well Sir, this proved a just and providential excuse, to be as little as possible with such a family. Lov. But Sir, it was by this favorable turn to- -wards me, that a chain of events was produced, which have proved the most perplexing and distress- ful to myself and my dearest Ann. Wor. Really Sir, your history becomes so interest- ing, that I am quite anxious to hear the result of it. Lov. Sir, before my uncle’s determination had been made known to me, of adopting me as the heir to his estates, a design of marriage had, in a great measure been settled between myself and my dearest wife ; and not less to the satisfaction of our parents, than myself. All that he ever said, was, ‘* please your- self, and you will please me ; money is no object; happiness in the marriage state consists in something better than money :” But when my uncle was deter- mined to make me his heir, I was immediately to be 8 PIALOGUF XXI.. married to some woman with money, or blood, as it ts called. One of Lord Gambleton’s daughters was therefore immediately thought of, and though his Lordship had considerably reduced his fortune by his extravagance, yet as for want of a male issue — were co-heiresses, it was judged an excellent mate on my behalf; but a more worthless right abomi- nable never existed among the right honorables : and thus between his Lordship’s blood, and my uncle’s money, at all events I must be united to this noble family. Wor. O this noble blood, and this love of money! what mischief they create! But how did you get over the difficulty ? Lov. Why Sir, I knew that it would not be in my power to deal with my uncle, but by gentle means. When he proposed the match, I told him the con- nexion I had in a measure formed with Miss Com- merce, before he had mentioned his kind design of making mehis heir. He started and said, ‘‘ who the devil is Miss Commerce?” When [I told him she was a respectable tradesman’s daughter, he immedi- ately began swearing, after the mode of his general conversation : “ that he would never allow any of his family to be united to such a set of d——d black- guards ;” calling me a low fellow, and saying, if I would not see Lord Gambleton’s daughter, he would adopt another heir, and that he would have nothing more to do with me: and that he expected I should first see how I liked the eldest, as that might prove the greatest advantage to myself and the family. Wor. Really Sir, you had a difficulty before you, not easily to be surmounted. Lov. Sir, I told him I could have no objection against seeing any of Lord Gambleton’s daughters, but that I hoped he would put no restraint upon my affections, as that might prove a source of misery to me through life; and so matters were waved for the present, till I had time to consult my parents. Wor. Well Sir, and I should hope your parents CONJUGAL FIDELITY. 9 did not advise you to sacrifice our affections. for the sake of money or blood. t Lov. O Sir! my father behaved like a father, but it grieves me to say, my mother was just the reverse. She was at once struck with the proposal ; observed, what a fine thing it would be to have her son, the acknowledged heir of the family to which she origin- ally belonged, and to be united to such noble blood ; and that my present engagement with Miss Com- merce, was not so far gone, but that I might break it off—O Sir! what a hard task was this to myself, and the dear creature to whom I am now so happily united ! Wor. It must have been a hard task indeed.— But how did you succeed in evading the difficulties of this perplexing dilemma ? Lov. You must suppose Sir, I was under the ne- _ cessity of meeting with Lord Gambleton’s family, who came on purpose to visit my uncle ; and Lady Geor- giana, being the eldest, was the first I was ordered to notice, and who was introduced to me accordingly ; and of course, [ was obliged to be very complaisant to her in return ; while, as I suppose, she was directed to be more than complaisant tome. I cannot express myself how muca < wes disgusted, even at first sight, at the silly airs, the fulsome forwardness, of this paltry mess of noble blood, when brought into com- petition with the excellent understanding, undis- ~ guised modesty, and unaffected simplicity, of me dearest Ann. Wor. Sir, I confess you would have made a sacri- fice much to your discredit, had you, contrary to every just and generous feeling, given up for such motives, an object so worthy of your affections. Lov. Sir, if I had not taken the liberty to enquire into your character, I should not have been so happy in your approbation of my conduct; I am satisfied it will therefore still meet with your approbation, when you hear the result of these events. Wor. Dear Sir, I have now no doubt of it. 10 DIALOGUE XXII Lev. After this wretched bit of forwardness, ig- norance, and self-conceit, was proposed to me, to supplant my dearest Ann, for the sake of money and blood, my uncle presently perceived how much I was disgusted at her, and told me, (f shall not repeat the disgustful oaths he made use of on this occasion.) what a brewery blackguard I was, not to behave more civilly to one of Lady Georgiana’s rank ; that if I married her, I might, if I pleased, keep the other girl as my mistress ; and he was sure a sum of money, which he was ready to advance, would accomplish his wishes and mine; or that he had been dreadfully mistaken in the disposition of women, as far as ever he had to do with them. Wor. Then your uncle supposed that all other people were as unprincipled as himself ; and that every female character was of the same description, as those low objects of his brutal desires with whom he had been connected: though I confess it scarcely seems possible that you could have a stronger inducement presented before you, to behaye dishonorably to the good lady, to whom it seems you were so solemnly betrothed. : Lov. Indeed Sir, it seemed next to nothing to me, after a second interview with Lady Georgiana, and Lord Gambleton’s other two daughters: for my uncle insisted upon it, that I should go with him to return the visit; and O, the horrid conversation I there heard! the worst that could be, from a proud unprincipled Peer, and a worthless extortion- ate miser. Wor. I am afraid Sir, I shall ask too much if I request you to proceed. ' Lov. O no Sir! the Right Honourable had nothing to say, but that from his free living, according to the rank of life he was obliged to fill, and through some gaming debts, he had diminished his fortune; and that he could get no more from his tenants, as that he had racked up their rents to the utmost penny he could demand : and therefore, as courtly faver ge- 4 . - CONJUGAL “FIDELITY. li nerally shone on noble blood, it might prove a con- venient match to both families. As for loving one girl better than another, that they conceived to be all nonsense : and though it seemed necessary to pro- - _ pose the eldest first, yet if I proved rather squeamish about Lady Georgiana, there was Lady Augusta, and Lady Catharine, though there is scarce a pin to chuse between them; if any thing, I think the pre- ference might have been given to the eldest, but I am sure bad was the besi. Still it was by no means against their noble blood that I was disgusted ; let people be as honorable in character and conduct as _they are by birth and title, and some such honorable characters are not wanting among the nobility of our land, and I would always esteem them worthy of double honor ; but when these three empty scraps of vanity, were to be brought into competition with my dearest Ann, I confess they appeared the most odious creatures I ever beheld. Wor. I am sure Sir, that you, as a man of thought, must have felt very goyere’y on this occasion. You -eannot be ignorant of “theistyle of education among young persons of rank: look at the plain, honest, country milk-maid ; next contrast her with the vain baubles turned out, not only from the families. of too many of the Right Honourables of the day, but from most of our modern boarding-schools; these from being first mere babies, afterwards get something above it as they grow up towards childhood ; then they are sent to those destructive places of female education, where they are a second time reduced _almost to a state of baby-hood; and in this fool’s paradise, they seem happy to live through all their lives, fifty times more offensive babes, than if they had never left their cradles. Tov.Yes Sir, and three such as these were then presented before me, on account of money and blood, to be preferred to the excellent and intelligent person I now enjoy. Wor. I should suppose however, you must have 12 DIALOGUE XXII. suffered much, before you could have been extricated from these difficulties. Lov. Indeed Sir, no person could have been called to a more severe contest than I have sustained, be- tween my affection, my judgment, and my worldly interest ; for my uncle’s principles were perfectly libertine. He would ever be saying, that ‘“ the end of life is for every man to gratify himself, as best suited with his natural appetites and dispositions.” He was perpetually reading heaps of French publications on that subject: but here was my difficulty; what he liked best, I was to like best also, or else suffer the vengeance of his high displeasure. He had fully im- bibed the sentiments belonging to their system of mock liberty, that men should be left to live as they list, without the least controul. } Wor. What government can subsist, where every one is governed by his own abominable lusts and passions! But your mother thus joining with your uncle’s views, must have been another very consider- able impediment in your way. Lov. Indeed it was ; for she began immediately to act so cruelly and disgustingly to my wife, that she was soon obliged to discontinne all her visits to — our house, though before these golden promises were made, it was asettled business that a marriage should take place. Wor. Well Sir, under such circumstanees as you haye related, neither your father nor your mother ought to have refused their consent ; and I am sure, when they had once solemnly given it, they had no right to retract it; and on account of such motives so improperly retracted, it would be equally unjust in either of you to have renounced the pure and chaste promises of a mutual connexion, which sub- sisted between you. It were well, if both parents and children, would duly consider the proper limits of their reciprocal duty towards each other; but for want of this, how frequently do children and parents distract their own minds, and destroy the peace of CONJUGAL FIDELITY, 13 all connected with them! But what was the result of these matters ! Lov. Sir, my uncle for once gained a victory over his coyetousness, by straining a point in con- nexion with Lord Gambleton, to see if they could’ not bribe her, by the promise of a thousand pounds, provided she would be off from the engagement. The accomplishment of this business was to be put into the hands of my mother, and she the more eagerly entered into it, as her head was filled with a set of splendid dreams, that if they could blend the two families into one, whether it might not be possible to procure another patent of peerage, on behalf of the female line, through which the noble blood was still to flow ; and nothing pleased the pride of my poor mother, like the idea that her only son might by this match wear a coronet; and upon these chimerical principles of happiness, we were called to sacrifice our affections and solemn engagements with each other, Wor. The feelings of both your minds, must haye been seriousty disgusted by such base contrivances ; and at the same time so artfully calculated to tempt both of you to violate the solemn promises which had subsisted between yourselves. But how did Mrs. Lovely receive the proposal? Lov. Sir, the immediate answer my -wife sent, (for we were not then together,) was just what I should have expected from the independent dignity, chastity, and goodness of her mind: “That to pawn her affections for the lucre of gain, was so much be- neath every feeling she possessed, that she at once rejected it with entire disdain; and that if they could find a.chapman’in me, for the sake of such rewards to give her up, after the most sacred promises which had passed between us, she should ever esteem it a most merciful deliverance to escape from one of so mean a mind; and that it would be nothing with her, whether I married any of Lord Gambleton’s daugh- ters, or any one else [ might clruse to prefer, though yOu, II. Cc 14 DIALOGUE XXII. she herself had not the most distant idea, that I could act a part so unfeeling, so ungenerous, and so vile.” Dear Sir, who could not but admire a mind replete with such dignity of thought, and with such a gene- rosity of heart? Wor. But I hope Sir, that this spirited letter so far settled matters, as that you got rid of these im- portunities, that you might marry according to you wish ? Tov. No Sir, my uncle still kept up his expee- tations, that either by craft or cruelty, they might prevent our union ; and in order to accomplish this, the next plan was to send me into the south-west of Ireland, where he had an estate, that I might see after _ his tenants, and collect some arrears of rent, with a merciless, crafty, hard-hearted, wretch of a lawyer, at my elbow, to watch all my motions; and with se- cret instructions to try to debanch my morals and conduct as fas‘ as he could: bat in this, I thank God, he could not succeed; and there I was ordered to continue till my uncle followed me, which as he said, would be in a few weeks. By this plausible pretext, in first making nfie the steward of what, according to his promise, I was after wards to possess, I coneeived it my duty to follow his directions. But this was all done, to try if possible, to break the heart of my dearest Ann. Being how- ever, suspicious of their designs, I made ita point to call on her before I went ; and after I had told her the difficulties I had to encounter with, I pledged myself, in the most solemn manner, before her and her pa- ents, that whatever might be the consequence, we would unite for life. Wor. Sir, I love you to my heart for your fidelity. Lov. But O Sir! [ shall never forget what we all felt on this occasion; though what I did was on der a positive and deliberate determination, that I had rather a thousand times support myself, as the servant of my father’s brewery, or even by daily labor, with such a wife, than be united to the best of the three CONJUGAL BIDELITY. 15 noble paltry puppets, that had been exhibited before me Wor. Were you obliged to be long absent on this errand ? . Lov. Sir, my uncle kept me above three months in suspense ; still making some frivolous excuse to delay his coming. And O! what tricks and pro- ‘ects to accomplish their designs of preventing our union First, the letter-carrier, unknown to the post- master, was bribed to bring all letters which passed between my dear Ann and myself, to my uncle or my mother, and these were opened and secreted from each of us. One letter she was allowed to receive, written as by my direction, though not in my hand, stating that I had employed one of my comrades in wicked- ness, to correspond with one Mary Coleman, a com- mon strumpet, engaging to give her twenty pounds a year for the maintenance of a bastard, they feigned I had by her, as I was under the necessity to marry Lady Georgiana Gambleton, from family circumstan- ces ; but still that my occasional visits should not be wanting ; and this letter was supposed to have beer mis-sent and intercepted, and then conveyed into the hands of that good little woman, that it might be the cause of breaking off the match, or of breaking her heart; and indeed it had nes:!y accompiished the de- sign. Nobody can tell the distracted state of mind she was immediately thrown into, and in which she continued, till the fraud was detected; and the con- trary surprise of joy, when the plot was discovered, .Was not less trying to her tender feelings, than the deep grief she had before sustained. Wor. What an infernal plan was this, to ruin the - peace of both your minds! But could Mrs. Lovely for a moment believe all this ? Lov. Sir, she knew not what to believe, the plot was so plausibly laid. Her nights were ‘sleepless, and her mind was almost distracted. First, she could ~ot account for my apparent neglect, as our letters \ 16 DIALOGUE XXII. were intercepted : and then my mother, being deep in the stratagem, was directed to tell my dear Ann, that she had from mv authority to inform her, that — our connexion could not take place, as circumstances were so altered since I first became acquainted with her; and that still a large recompense for her disap- pointment would be-at her disposal, when she chose to accept it. And these accumulated circumstances, at once threw her on a bed of sickness, from which it was expected she would never recover. Wor. Indeed, if she believed half the stratagem, replete with such dissimulation and craft, no wonder that she should be completely overset by the appa- rent cruelty of your conduct. But how could thev suppose, that a plan of this sort should not very speedily have been discovered. Lov. Sir, it seems they had other steps to pur- sue, that their tricks and projects might not be dis- closed. During my residence in Ireland, a reverend gentleman was to be sent after me, known by the name of Dr. Cringer, who was to take me out of the way for several months, by conducting me the tour of Europe, and to make me the accomplished gentleman, by teaching me some of the modern European languages. This gentleman was one of Lord Gambleton’s chaplains, and possessed a living in his gift; and since then, 1 have discovered him to be the most contemptible sycophant, and the meanest toadeater to his lordship, that ever existed. How- ever, this plot discovered itself before it was fully accomplished. Wor. I should be happy to hear how this too place. Lov. Sir, while my dearest Ann was lying, as it was supposed, on her death-bed, her father wrote to my father, to know what could be the cause of all these strange circumstances : and why he should suffer _the loss of such an invaluable daughter, by a conduct so treacherous and unjust in me? Immediately both our parents met on the occasion ; it would require CONJUGAL: FIDELITY. 17 some hours to tell you the pains they took to inves- tigate the stratagem; but’ yet how speedily they transmitted: to me the discoveries, they had made ! Wor. You must have been considenalily struck at this discovery. Lov. Struck Sir! neha can tell what. I. felt under the idea, that the affectionate and generous heart of that excellent creature, was ready to break through my supposed treachery, while I loved her inexpressibly, and was so fully determined to be faith- ful to my vows. Wor. But I should: hope Sir, your. perplexities soon terminated with the discovery of these different lets. 3 Lov. Sir, I made’ not a moment’s hesitation to travel directly from Ireland to Mr..Commerce’s; and, though I took all possible care that matters might be go broken to my dear Ann, as that she might not be too much overcome by the news of my arrival, and by the consideration of the events, which made me take the journey ; yet O Sir what a meeting it was! Her tender and affectionate frame was so overpow- ered, especially during the first interview, as that no words can sufficiently express what she, and in- deed, all of us felt: we wept, and sobbed, ‘and thus sympathized with each other for some time, before a single word could be spoken on either side. At length our affectionate parents retired from the room, and when they. returned, they informed us,” that they had both entered into a firm resolution, that in order to put an end to all those detestable tricks and cabals,; we should never again separate from each other, till our marriage had’ actually taken place, for that they cared nothing for all events and’ conse- quences about large estates,:and noble blood, as they were ‘determined to make us ‘both happy, by an immediate union.—All this was kept.an entire secret from my mother and uncle; and as. soon as‘my dear Ann ‘was sufficiently recovered to be conveyed to Church, we were married ‘accordingly; and O Sir! 18 DIALOGUE XXIt. the tears of sympathy, of mutual affection and joy, on that occasion, will never be forgotten ! Wor. But 1 suppose, this must have given con-) siderable offence to your uncle. Lov. Sir, I did all in my power to soften matters, but in vain; for immediately after marriage, I re- turned to the post at which my uncle had stationed me in Ireland ; and though I had found that the worth- less lawyer he sent with me, had informed him of my elopement, yet as he could only guess at the cause, I had to reveal the event to my uncle by letter. This I did with as much tenderness and respect as circum- stances would admit, assuring him, that if I had dis- pleased him by taking this step, yet that, in every other point of view, 1 wished to appear respectful, obedient, and attentive to his commands; but that I most humbly requested him, if he still, meant me as his heir, that he would dispense with the European tour, at least, for the present ; as duty and atlection strongly called me to attend u pon the excellent young woman who was now become my wife, and who pos- sessed every possible qualification to render herself a most highly respected character, in every situation of life she might be called to fill. Wor. You should have added, excepting that of noble blood. But how did your uncle receive this letter ? Lov. Sir, his rage was inexpressible. He wrote me a few lines, filled with oaths, for my folly ; charging me to leave his house in Ireland directly ; and to undertake the office I held at my father's brew- ery, as that was the most fit for me and »the shop- keeper’s girl, 1 had presumed to marry against his consent. Wor. Well Sir, after all, it cannot be said you have lost what you never had, though the sacrifice you have made, of what you had in reversion, was very great; but still, you have gained the greatest advantage in your character and conscience, and. an excellent wife into the bargain. CONJUGAL FIDELITY. 19 Lov. O Sir! I have a full compensation for all my losses and troubles ; though she had not the sup- posed advantages of the politer style of education of the day, yet having a very strong and retentive mind, — by her own diligence and attention, she has provided for herself a fund of knowledge above most ef her sex. She is exceedingly well read in history, and even in some branches of philosophy, especially in astronomy. The languages have, by no means, escaped her notice: she is a perfect mistress of the English, and writes an admirable letter ; and all this knowledge she acquired by her own industry, in the midst of the hurry and bustle of the domestic concerns of a large family, to which she always gave the ut- most attention; at one time very diligent as her father’s scribe, and at another time not less attentive to fill an active station, even behind the counter, when needed. Wor. After such real accomplishments as these, you had no great cause to lament the loss of what is called a politer education. Had she been one of those poor, paltry, affected, ignorant, conceited misses, turned out of too many of our modern boarding- schools, the loss of such a flimsy bit of nonsense in female shape, might have easily been repaired. Lov. Yes Sir, but to me it appears as though the - world could not produce her equal: she is one, of such an obliging mind and temper, that she never is happy, but as she can make others happy ; while she is blessed with a disposition the most serene, affec- tionate and kind. If I can but preserve her life, I think I shall be the happiest man upon the earth. [Lovely weeps. ] - ' Wor. Well Sir, as the principal cause of per- plexity exists no longer, let us hope that her health will not only soon be restored ; but that the rage of your uncle will, after a while subside, notwithstanding he has been disappointed in’ his projects. ‘“ The hearts of all are in the hands of God.” > Lov, Sir, these thingsare nothing to me: I pos- 20. DIALOGUE! XXII. sess all I want in my dearest wife, though I heard that my uncle should say to my mother, the ‘other day, that he could not but admire my honesty, not- withstanding I was such a fool, (with his accustomed oath) in not following his directions: and another event took place soon after our marriage, which ap-' peared to us not less remarkable than unexpected. Wor. What was that Sir ? Lov. One of the former generation of the Greedy’s; a great-uncle of mine, still lives: he is an old lawyer, and is now past eighty; though he is:covetous and mean, and mercenary to aproverb, yet soon after our marriage, he came to seems ; and mentioned how’ sorry he was that the match was displeasing 10 my uncle, though he confessed he approved of it highly,’ as he believed my wife, would' be a very prudent and saving woman; and had I married any of Lord Gambleton’s daughters, they might have made mea spendthrift, and that he hated nothing worse. .. Now, as I must be very unhappy at home, on: account of my mother’s displeasure ; and as my wife's spirits and strength were much impaired by what she had already sustained, he said he feared her life was in danger; and therefore had consulted a physician for her, who had prescribed moderate travelling, or a change: of scene, without much fatigue, as her disease was'more in her mind, than her body; and therefore, he ad- vised me to take her, by slow journies, from place to - place, that her health and spirits might be recruited. Tn order to cover these expences, he begged my ac- ceptance of fifty pounds; promising, at the same time, to leave me all his property, provided he saw that I was a frugal young man; engaging also to do all in his power to reconcile my mother to the match. ns Wor. Well Sir, though your great uncle’s dispo- sition inclines him to be parsimonious and mean, yet in this respect, he behaved to you in a manner that was generous and kind. oe t Lov. Yes Sir, but the very next day he repented CONJUGAL FIDELITY. bf of it: and wrote to my father, telling him he must have interest for it while he lived, though -he still meant to appoint me his heir. He never was known before to doa single action, that looked either generous ar kind ; but having had several sharp contests about money matters, with my uncle, who had lately dis- carded me, they were quite at variance. He seemed therefore, to be willing to take me up in opposition to him. Nor did my uncle’s way of living please my great-uncle at an, rate; for though he would do any thing for money, yet at times, when among the great, from family pride, he would be somewhat splendid and expensive in his style of living; and this — displeased my great-uncle exceedingly, Wor. Ah Sir, such are the clashings of interest, found among the vices of mankind! But the displea- sure of your mother must, have been the cause of con- siderable concern to the whole of your family. Lov. O Sir! it has entirely. destroyed our family happiness ; though it is my father who has felt the most: he neither cau find any happiness in my mother as his wife, nor can I find any comfort in her as a parent, while she hates my dearest Ann as much as my father Icves her; and is living in perpetual hopes of her death, that another effort may be made, if possible, to get me in the mind to relish some o- this noble blond: sc that at present, we are obliged to retire from home for the sake of peace. And all this is the more cutting, as it comes from a mother, who once appeared to love me very tenderly ; but still she is my mother. It is too painful for my re- collection ! Wor. I perceive then dear Sir, that you are alt most under the necessity of a temporary banishment ; and as travelling from place to place is very expen- sive, do Sir, let me request the favor of you and Mrs. Lovely to pass some time with us at Brookfield Hall. We are supposed to live in a salutary air; and you have your own little vehicle to take yourself and Mrs. Lov ely to different parts about the country, for the 22 DIALOGUE XXII. sake of moderate exercise ; you can travel about as you may like, and still make my house your head- quarters. If you please Sir, as the shower seems to be over, we will adjourn to the house, and settle it with Mrs. Lovely. I am sure Mrs. Worthy and my daughters will be very happy in her company ; Mrs, Loyely’s want of noble blood will be of no conse- quence at our house. We are no great admirers of this commodity, as it is in general found in its present degenerate state. Lov. Dear Sir, what kindness and attention to an entire stranger! But as to support, both my father and my wife’s father, are determined to join in all that is necessary to assist, during our present perplexities ; and though we suppose we must retire, for the sake of peace, into some little country cot, at a distance from — my mother, till matters may soften; yet should it please God to restore her health, a very little will make us comfortable, as we are so happy with each other. But Iam sure Sir, Mrs. Lovely will be quite overcome by your most kind and affectionate attentio to our situation. Wor. O Sir! don’t mention any thing about these matters. I don’t know what comfort there can be in— life, but as we act for the mutual good of each other. True Christianity is sure to produce real politeness, without the assistance of the affectation of the world. Though their sort of politeness is in general, little better than refined hypocrisy : yet we are commanded to “* be given to ho pitality,” and “ to be pitiful and courteous.” I must therefore, insist upon it, that you allow me, without any further ceremony, to make you and Mrs. Lovely our guests, while you continue in these parts. “To a day laborer.] Here John, go directly to the Golden Lion, and ask for Mr. Lovely’s servant, and tell him to bring his master’s horses and carriage, and all their packages, immediately to my house. . Lov. Oh dear Sir! this is quite too much !---I am afraid my poor dear wife will feel herself entirely i i] i CUNJUGAL FIDELITY. 23 thrown out of that humble contemplative state of re- tirement we wish to enjoy, by her being introduced into your house. d Wor. O Mrs, Lovely will find just the contrary, within half an hour after she has really commenced our guest: we have nothing to do with the fulsome formal parade of the world at our house. [To the laborer.] Why don’t you go John? John. An’t please your honor, [ll go directly. Lov. Sir, if you insist upon such an extraordinary act of hospitality, I should be glad to go with him, as I have some matters to settle with my servant on this remove. Wor. Well Sir, then I shall go to the house, and tell Mrs. Worthy and Mrs. Lovely how we have set- tled matters, and shall expect your speedy return. ‘ —e— Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovely immediately separated, But as there are still a variety of events which may require an abridgment to prevent repetition, the reader will excuse the dress of dialogue, while he is further informed, that Mr. Worthy accordingly went home, and in the fulness of his benevolent heart, ad- dressed Mrs. Lovely rather too abruptly for the tender feelings of her delicate and sentimental mind: telling her that he had heard every circumstance respecting them ; and that he was quite in raptures at the fidelity and integrity of Mr, Lovely’s conduct; and begged their acceptance of every token in his power of their hospitality and esteem. He insisted upon it that they should adjourn from the Golder Lion immediately, and be their guests, at least for some days ; and that after they had received a short sample of their sin- cere and sympathetic regard, they should judge for themselves, how long they might further favor them with their company. This so won upon the mind of Mrs. Lovely, that she could scarcely support herself under the strong impressions of gratitude she felt, from this instance - 24 DIALOGUE XXII, = of truly Christian benevolence. Her husband just then came in, and found her scarcely able to speak, and in tears, from the influence this had upon her most grateful and affectionate disposition. The cause of this was immediately explained to him. Let the reader’s imagination next describe the feelings of this very sincere and affectionate youth ; thus engaged in wiping away each tear as it dropt from her eye, while he had enough to do to quell the like sympathetic tear, as it involuntarily — forced itself through the same sluices of his affection : and then let him judge whether Mr. Lovely would have been a happier man, had he neglected one of such a mind, for the sake of either of the three un-~ sentimental baubles, whichever it might have been, — that through the mere pride, extravagance, or covet — ousness of the parties, was designed to have been en- tailed upon him. ; Thus Mr. and Mrs. Lovely commenced the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Worthy, while the honest landlord of the Golden Lion parted with them with considera- ble regret. They could not however help remark- ing, in the course of the evening’s conversation, how very orderly all their little matters were conducted: at the public house, and that it was the first house they ever remembered of that sort, m which they heard the private voice of family prayer. In the course of the evening conversation, Mr. Lovely started some queries concerning a young woman, who appeared quite of a dejected turn of mind, and asked whether it was from some deep af- fliction, or, it shouldgrather appear, from some melan- choly derangement. But when Mr. Worthy b to tell the story of Mrs. Chipman, as it has been before related to the reader, it was soon found too strong a contrast of what had passed between Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, for their tender minds to bear, especially as related to the feelings of Mrs. Chipman, since she. had been made sensible of the evil consequences of sin, The conversation, therefore took another turn. CONJUGAL FIDELITY. : 25 ‘Mrs. Worthy made some enquiries into the family of the Lovelys, as her mother used to claim relationship tosome of thatname. By this means they discovered there was no yery distant relationship between the Worthys and the Lovelys, though they were very glad it was not on the side of the Greedys. Mr. Lovely also had to console himself with a hope, that an intermixture into that family, might ultimately be of no great harm to the next generation, as his grand- father was too much the other way, and had suffered considerably, by lending large sums of money to some, in being security for others, and liberal upon all occa- sions, so that his fortune had been much injured by his generosity. Upon this discovery, the easy and affectionate appellation of cousin, was at once adopted, and the conversation became familiar ; soon after which, the day was terminated by family prayer, and supper, and as the day following produced some conversation which it is hoped will not prove uninteresting to my readers, though omitted in the former editions. The substance of that conversation shall next be narrated, _as soon as the morning sun shall rise, and if these Dialogues be now in the hands of those who retire to their rest, without first dedicating themselves to God, by family prayer; while they conclude the evening by reading these little dramatic attempts, may this laudable custom, so seriously attended to at Brookfield-Hall, excite my kind readers also to break through the united barriers of sloth and shame ; and ere they close their eyes in sleep, may they close the day with God. \ VOL, TI. D DIALOGUE XXIII. SETWEEN MRS. AND MISS WORTHY, AND MRS. LOVELY te THE EVILS OF SEDUCTION, FURTHER CONTINUED. N the next morning, while Mr. Worthy and his> family were at breakfast with their new guests, it was proposed by Mr. Worthy, that he and Mr. Lovely should take a ride to see some of the more extended prospects in that beautiful country, and then, on their return home, to pass through some of the retired glens that add a most pleasing variety to the enchanting neighbourhood of Brookfield-Hall : whilo the pleasantness of the day, and the serenity of the weather, invited Mrs. and Miss Worthy, and- Mrs. Lovely, to make an easier excursion in an open carriage nearer home. Though the captivating scenery of the place, occupied Mrs. Loyely’s atten- tion for a longer time than was designed, from the weakly state of her health; yet their return allowed them sufficient time for the following conversation, before the designs of the more extended ride ot Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovely could be accomplished. After they were seated in an open pleasant hall, in this earthly paradise ; some jellies and a little fruit were brought in. ; Mrs. Wor. Now madam, if Mr. Lovely was here, I think he would lay his commands upon you that you should taste how you like one of those jellies, and some of that fruit after your airing. Mrs. Lov. O Madam, your kindness and attention to such extire strangers, will never be forgotten. EVILS OF SEDUCTION. 27 Mrs. Wor. £ hope not,- for don’t you remember yesterday evening that we made it out that we are cousins, and relatives demand from us more than the common civility that is. generally bestowed on strangers. Mrs. Lov. I thank you kind Madam, This gentle exercise in this delightful situation, seems to have done me so much good, that I shall accept your offer without waiting for Mr. Lovely’s commands, though his commands of this sort, are most affectionately nemerous. Dear man, no body can blame me for loving him. Miss. §Vor. I think we should all blame you if you did not leye him, for we are all charmed with him since my father has told us of his noble and generous conduct. Mrs. Lov.O Madam, youcannot know half his worth; his most happy and delightful temper, can never be sufficiently appreciated. If his Uncle could have broken off the match, I am sure it must have broken my heart, he is such a delightful man. ‘Mrs. Wor. Why weare all of us equally delighted with him. Mrs. Lov. 1 am glad of it dear Madam, for I cannot but love all who love my dear-husband.. No woman can be blest with a better. _ Mrs..Wor. Perhaps not, but I think I am blest with one’ quite as good. I have been married to Mr. Worthy above five and twenty years ; and if we ever differ, we never disagree. It-is poor work when people’s happiness ends with the honey moon. I doubt not but that the honey moon with us, will last all the days of our lives. Mrs. Lov. So dear Madam, the landlord of the Golden Lion says. What a quiet and orderly house they keep! while their kindness and attention is remarkably engaging. Mr. Lovely and myself, are so pleased with them, that it was our intention to fiave passed a few days under their humble roof, had not your kind inyitation prevented; and especially 28 . DIALOGUE XXIII. as the beautiful scenery of the place, so highly cul- tivated and improved: by Mr. Worthy’s taste; se captivated our attention. Mrs. Wor. Yes, and this is the only thing in which Mr. Worthy seems a little extravagant, in dressing his old family demesne. Most travellers are highly’ delighted with our situation. Mrs. Lov. I should be surprised at their want of taste, if they were not. Considering what troubles” we have lately sustained ; and what, from your affee- tionate hospitality, we have now before us, it seems as though we were on enchanted ground. Mrs. Wor. Why Mr. Worthy considers by these ' improvements, how well he employs his poor neigh- bours; and he finds it much better to give them Ta- bor, than to give them money without it: and this is one reason why our parish poor rafes are scarcely felt. Mrs. Lov. What a happiness it would be if every country gentleman would follow such an example ! - Mrs. Wor. Indeed it would. It may be now and then necessary to take a little journey for the sake of our family, yet Mr. Worthy cannot bear to be long from home, and this makes him so much beloved while he is at home. Mrs. Lov. 1 am sure Mr. Lovely will be just such another, if ever he should possess any of the family estates, but that is now scarcely to be expected. Mrs. Wor. J dare say he will; there is no doubt of the generosity of his mind. The best end of liv- ing, is to live for the good of others. “Mrs. Lov. Ut is amazing what he feels for that poor disconsolate woman at the Golden Lion: but if she is a penitent, bad as her conduct may have been, she is still to be pitied. Mrs. Wor. We hope she is a peniteut: but she has enough to repent of. Mrs. had. Indeed she has; and she is most de- servedly and severely punished, by the reflections of her own mind. 1 thank God, there are no such. 4 EVILS OF ‘SEDUCTION. 29 reflections between my dear George and me. I have heard more of her story this morning; though my spirits were too weak to hear the whole of it yester- day evening ; and however severe our troubles may haye been, yet still they have been as nothing, when compared to an unfortunate lady in cur neighbour- hood, from the cruelty and treachery of her hus- band. Mrs. Wor. Perhaps it is more painful for a wo- man tobe forsaken by her husband, than for a man to be forsaken by his wife; though it is the same sort of cruelty and treachery on either side of the ques- tion. ‘Mrs. Lov. Indeed Madam you would say so, if you were to hear the story of this unfortunaie Lady, Mrs. Wor. Perhaps you have not sufficient strength and spirits to tell the story. Mrs. Lov. O yes I have! The agitation I felt yesterday in coming among strangers, through your great kindness, is considerably subsided. Miss Wor. But before you bégin, I must step out for my work. Your talking need not hinder my working. Mrs. Wor. But where is your sister Mary? had she not better come in and help you to finish your work for the poor children ? _. Miss Wor. She will as soon as she returns from Betty Newman’s, she is gone to take measure of one of the twins. . [Miss Worthy steps out for her work. Wuring her absence Mrs. Worthy remarks] Mrs. Wor. This is the best way I can find out of educating my daughtets ; and I am happy to say, that they love the task, and wish to be a blessing to their poor neighbours by attending to their wants. They would much rather dress the poor, than dress them- selves. They have been taught to esteem it the highest folly, to be the slaves and fools of fashion, Any thing that appears like fantastic dress, either in man or wowan; with them, is a sure indics‘ion not, 30 DIALOGUE XXIN. only of the weakness of the head, but also of the depravity of the heart. Mrs. Lov. it is much to be lamented how many stationed in the higher circles of life, are half ruined, even from childhood, by a bad education. I am very glad my kind parents favored me rather with a useful, than what is called a polite education, accord-— ing to that station of life they knew it was most probable 1 might be called to fill: advantageous knowledge and the improvement of the mind,were what I was directed to seek after; and as this has uot lessened me in my dear Mr. Lovely’s esteem, I have nothing to regret on that score. I hope dear Madam, the younger branches of your family, will equally prove to your satisfaction, as well as to their own credit through life. Mrs. Wor. I have many an anxious thought about them, but the younger branches of our family, have not yet finished their schooling, and we had anxiety enough before we could provide such places of edu- cation for them, as are best calculated for the proper improvement of their minds. We. feel the educa- tion of our children a most solemn charge; and toe begin well with them, is one of the most important ‘steps that can be taken for their future good. But all is nothing without the divine blessing on our ef-— forts. If our little ones turn out as well as our two eldest daughters, we shall be the happiest family upon earth, Mrs. Lov. I hope Madam, as long ‘as you conti- nue me your guest you will allow me, as far as I have strength, to help the young Ladies in their excellent employment. Mrs. Wor. Though my daughters are very atten- tive inthis beneficial way for the good of others, yet _ at times we are not forbidden to do something for ourselves, and for the instruction of our own minds; especially’ in the winter season. Then, some. of us work ; while others read history, geography and totems nseful and i improving publications. EVILS OF SEDUCTION. 31 Mrs. Lov. I suppose sometimes different pericd- ical publications attract your notice. Mrs. Wor. Indeed but seldom, for most of them . are not only avowedly written with a party design, but too frequently in such an angry party’spirit, as to irritate and disturb the mind, so that we pay very little attention to them; Mr. Worthy cannot bear them. But our greatest feast is, when we can get the worthy minister of our parish to pass an evening with us. He is not only a good, but a well educated man. And then he gives us delightful lectures in natural and experimental philosophy, but especially in astronomy. Mr. Worthy has lately presented us with those fine pair of globes, you see in that recess, -and an admirable telescope. In short our philoso- phical apparatus»is now become very considerable. And at times we have many of our more intelligent neighbours, who attend these intellectual feasts. But the best feast is, the excellent improvement we have of it from our pious minister; who displays the glory of the great Creator in such an admirable man- ner, in all his works. , [Miss Worthy just then returns with her work.] ‘Miss Wor. Now Madam we are just ready to hear about the lady you mentioned, viz. Mrs Sharp. Mrs. Lov. A deplorable story it truly is. She has experienced a very severe reverse of fortune, by her calamities. She was the only daughter of very creditable parents. Her father I am told, was a captain in the army, who lost his life when she was quite young. The disconsolate widow however lived to educate her in a decent and respectable style, though she was taken off by a fever before she had reached her twentieth year: and it seems her pa- rents left behind, a fortune of nearly seven thousand pounds for her use. Mrs. Wor. No wonder if at such an age she was of her guard, and madea mistake in marriage, being so early deprived of the guides of her youth, before her judgment was properly matured. 32 DIALOGUE XXIJJ. Mrs. Lov. Why Madam, though she was married so young, and within the year after her mother’s ——————E death, yet it was the general opinion that no charge — of inadvertency could be brought against her. Mr, — Sharp by all accounts, was then supposed to be a very desirable young man, and in early life was esteemed — by most as of general credit and reputation. He was — of considerabie practice in the law, and had formed some very respectable connexions, and though he - was not more than four and twenty, when they were. married, yet, he being then very diligent and clever in his profession ; most people thought that she was a fortunate young woman, and that it would prove a _ happy match. In short, their prospects upon their marriage, and for some time afterwards, were very | promising ; and while their family increased, it seem- ed to be an additional happiness to them both. Mrs. Wor. How many children had they? Mrs. Lov. They lived together till they had four, and at that time*most people envied their mutual felicity with each other. Mrs. Wor. What could be the cause of the dis- solution of such a happy connexion ? Mrs. Lov. O Madam! a French Gentleman and Lady, were driven over into this country by the trou- bles in France, and settled in our neighbourhood. He gave himself out as being one of the French nobles, but was only known by the name of Mr. Dupee. Who, or what they were, no one could tell ; and whether they were, or were not married, was equally uncertain. He was certainly a very vain weak man; and she a most artful and intriguing woman ; not only possessed of a strong and powerful understanding, but deeply tutored in all those per- nicious principles, which have proyed so destructive — to the peace of mankind, and especially in the country from whence they came. . Mrs. Wor. No wonder, that any SUR . with such sort of people, should bring ruin with them wherever they are admitted. But — EVILS OF SEDUCTION. 33 how came Mr Sharp to be ,acquainted with them ? : Mrs, Lov. It was Madam Dupee, who seemed to _ be the cause of all the trouble ; she was the manager _ of every thing; for he being troubled with epilepsy, and at the best of a weak understanding, he paid but _yery little attertion to his own concerns, so that not long after their arrival, she was in the habit of sending for Mr. Sharp to assist her in settling their affairs, _ for he certainly was a man of some property; and _ at times, was fond of making a little shew. Mrs. Wor. But if Mrs. Sharp was of an amiable ' and domestic disposition, he must have been a very vile man, to have been ensnared by such an artful stranger. Mrs. Lov. O Madam! Mrs. Sharp had many an aching heart about him, soon after their acquaintance commenced; but she kept her sorrows to herself, although even the children, could discover a differ- ence of conduct towards her, and at times would say, I wonder why Papa does not love Mamma as - much as he used to do.—Their innocent prattle fre- quently drew many a tear from her eyes. Mrs. Wor. No wonder if after this, when his affections were in a measure withdrawn, if matters. soon went from bad to worse. His undue intimacy with such an intriguing woman, must have given Mrs. Sharp a deal of trouble. [To Mrs. Lovely. } What should you and I feel, if we had such hus- bands? Mrs. Lov. O dear Madam ! a little of such sort of treatment from my dear George, would soon he the death of me. I have had a deal of trouble for him, but it seems almost impossible that 1 should ever have any trouble from him, though perhaps Mrs. Sharp once thought the same, but all this was | - but the beginning of much deeper sorrows ; and the sudden death of Mr. Dupee, completely moved every obstacle out of the way of their further designs. Mrs. Wor. How came that about ? jt DIALOGUE XXIII. t Mrs. Lov. O Madam! though his: epileptic w were at times very violent, yet from one of them he never recovered, and this was attended with some i such circumstances as rendered it very doubtful, whe- ther there was not some contrivance between them both, that he never should recover, though nothingg could positively be proved against them. Mrs. Wor. What is it supposed that Mr. Sharp assisted in the murder of the poor man? Mrs. Lov. It is too generally suspected, that some. very improper treatment during his last fit, was the cause of his dissolution, for no person was permitted to come near his corpse, while he lay dead in the house, and this preys upon Mrs, Sharp’s mind so se- verely, that she is almost distracted. Mrs. Wor. If she had the most distant suspicion, that he could be accessary to such an abominable crime, in addition to his unfaithfulaess and unkind- ness; how could she bear such a monster of a man? no wonder that it caused a complete separation be- tween them. Mrs. Lov. And now it began to appear most evi- dently to have been his design to accomplish such a separation. ‘Though the woman put on the appear- ance of one of the most inconsolable widows that ever lived, for being, if any thing, a Roman Catholic, she sent to all the popish chapels far and wide, : for their masses, to pray his soul out of purgatory, yet more of the company of Mr. Sharp was evidently all she wanted ; for she not only contrived to sweep all her husband’s property into her own pocket, they not having any children; though several nephews and nieces ; and these were all forgotten, that she might get the whole into her absolute possession. And it seems his will was the entire fabrication of Mr. Sharp, while he and she were the only joint executors of the whole concern, and this furnished him with a pretext to give almost the whole of his company-to this vile woman: while his broken-hearted wife, and neglected children, were almost entirely forsaken by him. . In- EVILS OF SEDUCTION, 35 | deed if ever he even occasionally went to his own home, it was only to see his wife distracted with grief, at the sight of the man with whom she had lived with so much conjugal felicity for so long a time; now torn from her bosom by this artful fo- reigner, and all his children neglected by him, while the youngest was still hanging on her breast. Mrs. Wor. Poor woman, she must have been the object of universal pity. Mrs. Lov. Yes Madam, of all that had any pity in them, while he now began to be not less the object | of universal abhorrence and contempt. | Mrs. Wor. Covld he continue in a place where the _ odium excited against him, must, one would suppose, _ have been so very universal ? Mrs. Lov. No Madam, nor did he design it from _ the first: for though this artful French woman want- ed to deceive people, by assuming the most tragical and frantic airs of grief, and by giving it out, that she could never live in a house, where she saw her dear husband die in such agonies; consequently must sell all, and leave the place,-and retire into her own country; yet this was the very thing that Mr. Sharp was aiming at, to accomplish the rest of his plan. For immediately upon her requisition he had a pretext to sell off all her household property, and furniture, with all possible speed, and after this, no- thing would do, but that Mr. Sharp should attend this abominable wretch, to the water side, leaving behind him a promise to return. To this Mrs. Sharp was obliged reluctantly to submit. She having some faint hopes that she might yet live to see better days; when the object that ensnared his affections should be removed from them. But in this she was also mistaken. He went, cruel wretch, to return no more. Mrs. Wor. This was completely enough to break her heart. d Mrs. Lov. But Madam, there was more heart- breaking work after all this, for he absolutely con- DIALOGUE XXIIi. trived to avail himself of all the property she brough with her into the family, by a most vile swindli trick. Miss Wor. What was the trick? » Mrs. Lov. They say, that some sort of lawyers onal up to every thing, and as he was frequently in the habit in his professional line, of buying and sellin estates, when these vile designs first entered into his head, before the death of Mr. Dupee, he told hi wife that he had an opportunity of buying an esta with her fortune, to a very considerable advantage ;~ which he shonld settle on her and their family, and though she had then her fears, lest she should soon be deprived of the remaining share of his aifectionall sooner than give him any pretext against her; she | reluctantly submitted, and completely ruined herself, thereby. This advantageous purchase he gave her to understand, was fully accomplished. And after his departure she naturally enquired, where this ima- ‘ ginary estate for herself and children was to be found ; bunt think what her feelings must have been upon the painful discovery, that all was an entire cheat, and i that she had nothing left, for herself and family, but a little pocket-money, the furniture of the house in ~ which she lived, and a few outstanding debts, while these were scarcely sufficient to discharge the debts the vile wretch had left against her, for their house- keeping expences. F Mrs. Wor. Were not these rather to be conceived as debts belonging to her husband ? Mrs. Lov. But as she and her children aie of the benefit of them, she honorably discharged them, till she had scarcely any thing left for herself, but what must soon be exhausted. She has indeed a , little plate, and a few valuable trinkets, and some of these it seems she has already parted with, and when these are gone, she has nothing but poverty and-dis- tress before her. Mrs. Wor. Have they not heard any thing of him since his departure ? ‘ i a EVILS OF SEDUCTION. 37 _ Mrs. Lov. Not a tittle; andit is now three months | since; she never expects to hear from him again. Miss Wor. Vile fellow. No matter for that, if _ the poor forsaken woman and her children can only _ be supported. Mrs. Lov. 1 hope she will ; for several people have already sent her some presents, and my dear George says, he will give her a trifle. Mrs. Wor. And { dare say, my dear Samuel will add another trifle—But did Mrs. Sharp shew any such tempers at home, so as to give a pretext to her husband, not to be so fond of her company as for- merly. Mrs. Lov. 1 never heard that she did; she is said to | bea woman of very engaging manners, and of an ami- -able temper, though I dare say, he would find no very comfortable reception on his return, when he had neglected his own family fire side, evening after eyening, to hear her distressful sighs, and to see tears of grief, every now and then starting from her eyes, while he had no other excuse for himself, than that of taking the opportunity of gaining better instruc- tion in the French language, which it seems he knew well enough before. Mrs. Wor. The more innocent and excellent her character is made to appear, it is hoped the more ready people will be to come forward towards her _ support. Mrs. Lov. Ah Madam! but after having lived in comparative affluence, to be reduced to live in a state of entire dependence upon the bounty of others, is a very painful event. She has not been accustom- ed to any way of getting her own livelihood, nor would her little family allow her to do it if she had it in her power; in short, she cannot help herself, while she feels it a mortifying thought to ke helped by others, though one of her faithful servants says, she cannot leave her, if she works for nothing, while _ the prattle of her little children cuts her to the heart. At one time they will be asking her, Where is Papa VOU. It. E {oan DIALOGUE XXIII. vone ? why don’t he bring us pretty things as he used to do? and when at times they see her in tears, they will ask, What makes you cry, Mamma? you say we are naughty if we cry. Then again when their mother provides them with but a_ scanty meal, being apprehensive that her little remaining stock will soon be exhausted, they will be asking with artless surprize, why they are allowed so little; and what is become of the good things they formerly used to have? Miss Wor. What painful feelings such sort of questions must excite in a mother’s breast! Mrs. Lov. Yes: and what additional pain must shel have felt, when she began to find it necessary to part with the falnituee out of her house, at different times, to provide even such scanty meals as these, while she was painfully at a loss to know how to provide a suf- ficiency to pay the taxes, as they were demanded of her. The most disconsolate widow upon earth has not half the cause of grief as has fallen to the lot of this afflicted woman; what less can be expected, than that grief should send her to the grave with a broken heart? even a detail of such uncommon suf-> ferings, is quite sufficient for any person of common humanity to narrate. Mrs. Wor. Perhaps you had better defer the Test of the narration, until another opportunity, lest it should be too much for your spirits. . Mrs. Lov. I have but little further to observe con- cerning her—Qh here is my dear George, and Mr. Worthy riding up to the door; I am glad they have returned so soon. No sooner had they alighted, than the conversa- tion became too desultory to demand the reader’s attention, nor is it necessary that the narration re- specting Mrs. Sharp should be continued, as all that is material has been sufficiently made known. I shall only observe that though the Lovelys could not but be. charmed with the affectionate hospitality of the Morthys: yet but little was said respecting Mr. EVILS OF SEDUCTION. 3G Lovegood, only from general hmts: and as he was _ scarcely from home on the Saturday, the first time they saw him, was in his official duty on the Sunday morning. Mr. Worthy however stepped aside for a short time, to the Vicarage, to tell him what sort of guests had been providentially brought to his house, together with a short detail of their history, supposing that Mr. Lovegood, with his wonted wis- dom and readiness of mind, might know how to im- prove the event, by introducing such wise, though indirect remarks, as might be best calculated to do them good. The result of that day’s services, it is to be hoped, will prove sufficiently interesting to cap- tivate the reader's attention, and to improve his mind, Ce Nee DIALOGUE XXIV. THE LOVELYS, AND THE BAMILY OF BROOKFIELD-HALI, THE CLAIMS OF SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. He following day being Sunday, Mr. and Mrs, Lovely attended the family to Brookfield Church. The pleasing sight of so large and devout a congre-— gation, collected from every quarter, and the holy reverence with which the service was conducted, surprised them not a little. Mr. Lovegood took his text from 2 Cor. iv. 17; “ Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceed- ing and eternal weight of glory ;” and though they both felt the text suitable and_ desirable, as it related to their own situation ; yet the application, at first, rather surprised them, that we were all sinners before God ; and that chastisement was needed to detect the latent venom of corrupted nature, however it might be cloaked from our view, by the favorable circumstance of a good disposition, and a life of strict morality ; that though we should esteem every good we enjoy, as ‘“ the gift of God,” and hold suci gifts in due estimation, as they, at least prevent an abundance of evil; yet the real good which makes us meet for heaven arises, from another source: and though he believed that where there is a high degree of morality or uprightness before man, (as even so much as this is of uncommon grewth,) he humbly trusted, that there may be the seeds of the divine principle secretly implanted ; yet after all, it is “ the grace of God that bringeth salyation, and which SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 4l teacheth us, to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts ; and to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world.” And in Mr. Lovegood’s application of his sermon, though he cautiously avoided an indis- criminate charge against all good, as though it were evil, because we ourselves are so; yet he still urged that there is nothing goed in us, but what is blended with evil. » He appealed to the consciences of his hearers, if all of them had not found, more or less, some anwatrantable murmurings and repinings against God, during sharp and heavy afflictions, until their hearts, under the influence of divine grace, were duly humbled to acknowledge their own sinfulness in his sight. He then brought the instance of holy Job, how he for a time, was found in rebellion against the correcting hand of God, till he was better instructed, by a deeper knowledge of his holiness, to cry in hum- ble submission, ‘‘ Behold, 1 am vile!” These considerations brought to Mrs. Lovely’s re- collection, the many unwarrantable reflections, which had passed her own mind during her afflictions, though she thought little of them for the moment ; yet now, for the first time, her conscience began. to recoil at them, as being a proof of the inbred corruption of her nature ; of which before she had scarcely the most distant conception. She had frequently been re- flecting upon the native goodness of her heart, prais- ing herself rather than God, that she was naturally so much better than the rest of mankind ; and wondered how a merciful God, should permit her to be so afflicted, while many, so far her inferiors in all the principles of virtue. and’ morality, were prosperous. Under these dark conceptions of her own heart, she would be arguing with Job in his’ unhumbled days, ‘‘ that she was clean and without transgression ; that she was innocent, and that there was no iniquity in her ; but that God yet found occasion against her, and counted her for his enemy.” However a very few reflections of this sort, forced the penitential tear 42 DIALOGUE XXI1¥, from her eye, and laid her humbled heart in the dust before God. Instead of “ entering into judgment with God,” she could now cry, ‘* Enter not into judg- — ment with thy servant, O Lord, for in thy sight shall no flesh living be justified.” At the sight of this, Mr. Lovely was not a little affected, as he greatly feared that these streng im- ~ pressions, might be attended with such consequences, that her delicate frame, might thereby sustain fresh injury. After their return from Church, they retired for a short time before the dinner was placed on the table, to a private seat in the pleasure ground, and the following conversation took place. == Mrs. Lov. My dear, what a wonderful sermon we have been hearing this day ! If these things be true, 1 fear we are both wrong. Lov. Wrong my dear—How can we be wr ong? What harm have we done? Ef we are not right, the Lord have mercy upon thousands ! Mrs. Lov. Though I dare.not say that I can accuse myself of any gross immoralities, yet you cannot con- — ceive what proud, angry, and rebellious thoughts I have secretly had against God, during our affliction. I never had the most distant idea, till this day, what an evil state we must be in, when such a tribe of evil thoughts are to be found in our hearts. But I hope, and I believe your heart is not so bad as mine. Lov. O my dear love! we must not suppose that the Almighty will eternally condemn us, for a few bad thoughts ; you know that ‘“ his mercies are oyer all his works,” and that “he will not be extreme to mark iniquity.” : Mrs. Lo~. Ono! itis not, that I fear I shall be eternally condemned for my bad thoughts ; but I find and feel myself*such a sinner, because I have them. | Why should I for a moment have harboured such evil conceptions against God, when he so justly SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 43 punishes me as a sinner, and still so merciful punishes me for my good ? In what a fine manner Mr. Love- good explained that text, “‘ Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every one whom he _ receiveth.”—But did you ever see such a serious and _deyout congregation before? No wonder that even the public house should have been so reformed, under such an excellent Minister. And what a charming family the Worthys are, how cheerful, yet how truly pious! Lam afraid we cannot say we are like them.— I am sure, I am not. Lov. O my dearest Ann! I am much afraid lest your unjust notions against the native purity and good- ness of your heart, should so perplex you, as to de- ptive you of all the consolation you have a right to claim to yourself. But whatever you may think of _ Mr. Lovegood’s sermon, it by no means struck me as being so super-excellent. First, I have no great opinion of your extemporaneous preachers. I can very readily give up all these, for the sake of hearing a minister upon some good grave moral subject, who ‘has properly and carefully corrected his sermon be- fore he preaches it. And then, I think what he said had rather a tendency to make the Almighty a hard _ task-master. He certainly is a man of ability, and I do not doubt but that he has a very good heart, and I dare say his stern way of preaching, has done a great deal of good among the common people ; but in one part of his sermon, he seemed to preach to us, as if we were all a pack of heathens. Mrs. Lov. 'To be sure, he made some very strong remarks, in shewing what a great difference there is between Christianity as it is revealed in the Bible, and as it is practised by the people of the world; but I cannot help thinking there was a deal of truth in whathe said. I fear lest I should be found, after all, nothing better than a mere ‘“ whited sepulchre,” in the sight of God. Tov. My dear creature! how can you for a moment admit such a preposterous thought?, I wonder you 14 DIALOGUE XXIV. can so overlook your own goodness: though I am quite delighted with Mr. Worthy’s hospitality, yet 1 am very sorry that Mr. Lovegood’s sermon should have left such a strange impression on your mind ; and I am sure such dreary notions against yourself, are not only the most inconsistent and unjust; but I fear also, lest they should so prey upon your thoughts, as to be injurious to your constitution, unless you can muster up proper resolution to resist them. Will you allow me, my dearest life, to request you not to think of going to Church again this afternoon? You could scarcely bear the crowd which was there this” morning : you were almost ready to faint half the time ; and I am sure his notions in religion will never do for you: at least, in my opinion, you have unhap-— pily misapplied them. Mrs. Lov. I thank you very kindly for your advice: but what shall Ido? If I grieve you by again going to Church, I fear I shall as much grieve and perplex my own mind, in staying at home. Lov. O my dear! [ll stay at home with you, and read some of the Saturday’s papers of the Spectator, you know they are all upon moral subjects? or one of Dr. Blair’s sermons, if Mr. Worthy has got them. Mrs. Lov. Indeed my dear, I never could read either in those papers, or in Blair's sermons, any thing like so interesting as what I have heard this day from Mr. Lovegood. I think you ‘a little mis- understand him : perhaps when you have heard him again, you may be better pleased with him. With your leave, I am exceedingly desirous to hear him a second time; but if I should grieve you by acting | against your kind advice, it will equally be the cavse of grief to me. ‘ During this short conversation, the dinner-bell sam- moned them to the family meal, which on a Sunday, at Brookfield Hall, is verv plain, but plentiful: an? S4LF-RIGHTBOUSNESS EXAMINED. 4s served at an early hour, that their second attendance on divine service, may not be interrupted. During the meal, Mr. and Mrs. and the eldest Miss Wor- thy, who of late had become very serious, made such remarks on the sermon, as were widely dif- ferent from those dreary notions of real religion which Mr. Lovely began, from misconceptions, to entertain. He discovered that Sunday, at Brook- field-Hall, though the most solemn, was the happiest day of all the seven; and that they could quote different passages of the sermon, which they heard from their excellent Minister with supreme approba- tior and delight. This staggered his prejudices, though it did not remove them. Soon after dinner the cheerful voice of praise was heard at a distance from the children of the Sunday school, who were kindly accommodated with Mr. Worthy’s laundry as a school-room. This at once attracted the ear of Mrs. Lovely ; and after some enquiries were made. respecting that institution, she looked at her husband, and dropt a tear. He seeing the agitation of her spirits, requested her to walk out, and the conversa- tion on the same subject thus recommenced. — Mrs. Lov. Will you my dear, indulge me with the privilege of attending at church again this after- noon? Surely the religion which makes this excellent family so happy, can never make us miserable. When I heard the song of praise from the voices of those poor children, how cid I wish that I could but be trans- formed into one of those little ones, that I might attend again at church without grieving you! Lov. You know that my advice is from the purest principles of affection. But if you cannot be happy unless you again go to church, I shall say no more. Only, my dearest creature, for my sake and your own sake, be on your guard, that Mr. Lovegood’s harsh doctrine may not injure your health. I can- not bear to hear you call yourself ‘a whited sepul- 46 DIALOGUE XXIV. chre,” and that you should have such unjust notions of the supposed badness of your unblemished heart, when I am sure you have given sufficient evidence, that it is so virtuous and good ; and indeed, I think we have neither of us been so remiss in any part of our duty, as to be registered amongst the most unworthy and negligent of mankind. Mrs. Lov. I am afraid, if we have been attentive to the lesser duties between man and man, we have been too remiss in the still more important duty, re- quired of us in our love and seryice towards God, Cannot you remember that that was one of Mr. Love- good’s observations during the sermon ? Lov. Now upon this principle alone it is, I ground my objection against your attendance. I confess the Worthys are a very cheerful and happy family; but however Mr. Lovegood’s. notions may do them ro harm, yet as your afflictions have much sunk your spirits, his strong notions of religion may not be so suitable to you as to them; and this makes me think, notwithstanding their kindness, that our visit to this place, for your sake, must be short; as I fear these dreary sentiments respecting yourself, may hurt your health., | Mrs. Lov. Oh my dear! with your leave I hope we shall continue here, at least for a few days, ac- cording to the most hospitable and affectionate invi- tation of the family. Indeed it would be quite rude to do otherwise. It would look as though we had taken some disgust, while at the same time their kindness is inexpressible. And did you not mind what a heaped dishful of slices of bread and meat were sent out to these poor children? And Mrs. Worthy told me, that itis their constant custom to cut up a large joint, and some other fragments, that each child might have his Sunday’s repast as well as his schoolmg: and I am told that the children and all their parents are brought into the laundry every other Monday evening, and examined and instructed by Mr. Lovegood ; and that once a quarter he has them SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS #XAMINED. 47 Publicly in the church, and makes a sermon on pur- Pose for them, and then afterwards gives all the parentsand children a supper together, in the servants’ hall. O my dear! do let me beseech you to stop a _ few days in these parts, that we may know more of this excellent family ; and let us get acquainted with Mr. Lovegood. Mrs. Worthy says, he always dines at their house on the Monday, when he comes to in- struct the children and their parents: and she says he is acheerful man, though he is so very religious; and if ever your uncle, or old Mr. Greedy, should leave _ you his fortune, we shall have plenty for our poor _ neighbours, as well as for ourselves ; and I am sure we _ cannot meet with better instructors, how we should _ act for the good of others, than as we take pattern from what is now before us. Lov. How can you my dear life, think yourself _ “a whited sepulchre,” when you are so full of charit- able purposes, and good designs? — Mrs. Lov. O, it is on account of the intermixture of evil 1 still feel—I am ashamed to say what I feel. _ Why should I have such bad thoughts? but the bells are ringing for Church. I seem quite revived at the _ thoughts, that your objections are removed. For you cannot but have observed the most pleasant conver- sation of the family, and the creditable, comfortable, and orderly way in which they live. Surely the reli gion which has done them so much good, can never do us any harm. Odo my dear George, O do let me goto Church with them, and let me request you to come with us. ’ Lov. My dear, you quite disarm me, and while I submit, I confess, I rather go with you to guard you against some mistaken impressions which | fear you have already imbibed, than by shewing my approba- tion of your zeal. However, F will go with you, hay- ing already fortified my own mind against all the wrong notions we heard this morning; I have only to request you for your own peace,—Be upon your guard. 48 DIALOGUE XXIV. After this conversation they immediately returned, and went to church with the family. Mr. Lovegood on that afternoon, preached a more awful sermon than usual, on the parable of the Ten Virgins ; ob- serving what a remarkable similarity subsisted for a while, between such as were wise, and others who were foolish, till the day of trial made known the difference between them. That the lamp of a pro-— fession may give a splendid light for a while, but at length it may go out in everlasting darkness. ‘That the grace of ‘God may be so nearly imitated by natu- ral gifts and outward advantages, as that many per-— sons may “have a name to live, and yet be dead.” He first mentioned some who might have “ the form of godliness, and deny the power. He asked his formal hearers, if they had ever examined their hearts by that expression, “The power of God.” He remarked its emphatic meaning,—how different — from a mere mechanical form! that though he by no means condemned forms of prayer, for that we had them in our psalms and hymns, and in the word of God itself; yet that these would not cover the sin of those, who are merely formalin prayer. 'That the best and most spiritual forms of prayer, if not of- fered up from a heart which is spiritual, are but an abomination: for that God thus complained of his own Israel: ‘“ This people draweth near to me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me.” He observed further on the same subject, — that forms of prayer can never create, though they may lead devotion: and that as we advance in the spiritual life, we shall be constrained to extend the wings of devotion, and not merely confine our- — selves to such directories as we once needed, in the earlier part of the divine life; but that as our spirits “crow up into God in all things,” we shall find, — that the fervor of holy prayer will require to be released from the cold and frigid business of a form; especially when we retire into the closet, that we SELF-RIGHTFEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 49 may ‘“‘pray with all prayer and supplicatien in the Spirit.” He then discoursed on reading the Bible; at- tending public worship, and frequenting the Lord's table; shewing that as these were the means of grace, we might expect good from them; yet, that it was possible to give a very diligent attendance on ail these things, in a formal customary manner with our lips, without the oz of grace; that the question is not so much what we do, but that we should examine the motives why we do it: that the true worship- pers of God, whose services are acceptable, are anly they who “ worship God in spirit and in truth.” He then made some remarks on a living faith, which ever unites to Christ, and by which union alone, “the oil of grace” is communicated to our hearts, and distills itself throughout ali our actions; that a mere dead faith makes a professor, but, that itis a living faith, which makes a possessor of the grace of God, in deed and in truth. He next went on the business of rectifying another mistake, that “ the oil of grace’ consists in our being blessed with good natural dispositions. He observed, that even among the brutes, though of the same kind, some of them have their good dispo- sitions, and prove naturally manageable and kind, while others of them are sulky and perverse: and that this mere diversity of disposition, is equally conspicuous in the human race ; and consequently, a mere good disposition, however excellent in its place, which may be found in a brute, as well as inthe human race, can never be called “the oil of grace.” That these sweet-blooded sinners, are too frequently found among the most negligent and pro- fane before God; yet, in their way, affectionate and kind towards others of their fellow sinners, while all of them are equally at a distance from the holy, spiritual mind, belonging to those who are truly “in Christ Jesus.” te easel Having thus warnec his hearers against suppesing VOL, I. F 50 PIALOGUE XXIV. that a mere good disposition was of the nature of divine grace, he next shewed that a life of the strictest morality may exist when “the oil of grace” is still wanting.—Mr. Lovegood boldly said, that an Atheist as well as a Christian, * may be a moral man; and that the morality of most men, is in general, little better than negative, consisting much more in what people do not do, than in what they really do: and that any man will, for self-interested motives, and for the sake of his own ease and comfort, attend to the common rules of morality, as all those who violated them are guilty of the grossest acts of folly against their own interest. That a man of unjust and knay- ish principles is sure sooner or later, to suffer for his own folly. That the man of passion and.re- venge will certainly entail much greater sufferings on himself, than what others have felt from him, by the mad violence of his anger. In short, if a man did but consult his own health or interest, he would be moral: and that, however highly advan- tageous, a strict attention to the rules of morality may prove to the good of society, yet that real Christians, who are blessed with the “oil of grace,” have much higher motives to go by, than such as are to be found among mere moralists. On these things, he afterwards expatiated so well, that it puz- zled Mr. Lovely’s mind not alittle. On the one hand, he felt himself half angry, that all his religious props were knocked from under him, while he found it a considerable difficulty to deny the truth of what he had heard. But when he perceived that Mrs. Lovely was still more seriously impressed, under a further dis- covery of her defective righteousness, and began again to express the anxiety of her mind, after her second return from church, how much both of them had fallen short of the sacred standard of real Chris- tianity; he was still more highly incensed against * It is probable Mr. Lovegood borrowed this expressios: from a famous charge, the late bishop of St. Asaph delivered when bishop of St. David’s. a SELE-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED, 51 the harsh doctrine of Mr. Lovegood, which had se discomposed the mind of his dearest Ann. Even the blessed tears of repentance, as they trickled from her eye, pierced him to the heart, while he heard with astonishment, that one of so pure a mind, in his esteem should still acknowledge herself such an unworthy sinner in the sight of God. Matters, however, thus passed till the next day. The reader is therefore requested to suspend his curiosity vn- til to-morrow; and, after a night's rest, the subject will be resumed. DIALOGUE XXYV. THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS, MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE LOVELYS. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM THE BOOK OF JOB. N the morrow, Mr. Lovegood attended on his customary visit. Mr. Worthy having introduced his guests to each other, it was observable, that Mr. Lovely received the address of Mr. Lovegood, with a degree of coldness and formality, very contrary to’ that which belonged to the natural sweetness of his disposition. And after dinner the followimg conver- sation took place. [Mrs. Lovely appears rather faint and weak. ] Lov. I toid you, my dear, that going to Church yesterday afternuon, would be too much for you. [To Mr. Lovegood.] And Sir, I must be free to tell you, that your doctrine is too severe and har ‘sh for my deli- cate and tender wife; though Iam sure Sir, you mean it for the best, and I ’should be glad, if all the clergy followed your good example. Loveg. Indeed Sir, it was not my design to hare advanced any thing, that was improperly harsh and severe; and if I have been guilty of such a mistake, I wish to be open to conviction, and shall be quite ready to retract it. Lov. Why Sir, you must allow me the liberty to say. (Lhope Mr. Worthy will pardon me,) that Inever heard any bedy but yourself make so -free with the character of Jub, as you did in your morning ser — mon; ceitainly he was a yery holy man. | SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS #ZXAMINED. 53 Loveg. Dear Sir, did Tin any wise deny it? though for a while, he had such strange apprehensions and misconceptions of God. Lov. Sir, Dr. Nescience,* the minister of our * Learned men should have Jearned names. No wonder then that Dr. Nescience has his name from a Latin derivation, though in plain English Dr. Know-nothing; I believe my readers can pretty well comprehend all my other names, with- out understanding Latin. A facetious old clergyman, Dr. Burton, Vice Provost of Eton, when I was at that school, passed some neat sarcasms upon a person of a very ignorant and pedantic character, recommending him to an uncle of mine, as being a gentleman of great Nescience. The person began bowing and scraping, supposing the Doctor had passed upon him some very high compliment; the Doctor, therefore height- ened the compliment, by observing, that he could not say too much of him on that subject ; for that he knew him to be a man of great Nescience, of very great Nescience indeed ; and nothing further was discovered by the pedant, than that all was designed as a high encomium on his wisdom ; and, it is proba- ble, our present Doctor was one of the same family. Dr. Nescience, it seems, procured his Doctor’s degree, not from his own University at Cambridge, where, had he made such an attempt, his knowledge had been well sifted, or his ignorance thoroughly exposed : from thence, therefore, he re- ceived no higher honor, than that of the first degree of a Bachelorof Arts: but he came at his Doctorship by a much shorter cut, from one of the famous Universities in the north of Scotland ; and in order that he might obtain this high literary honor, a testimonial of his learning being needed, this he pro- cured to be signed by three reverend gentlemen of the same re- doubtable order of Doctors; Dr. Numscull, Dr. Papscull, and Dr. Loggerhead. This information hewever, as it respects Dr. Nescience, and by what means he obtained the high honor of being called the - Doctor, reflects not the least discredit on Dissenters, nor yet on some others of real erudition, where there are unhappy bar- riers in their way, to procure such degrees in a more creditable line ; but Dr. Nescience, and the rest of his fraternity of the same order, have found out this, as the ready way to dook big, _. with a little, or even no learning.- Before he procured his de- he was denominated the little Rector ; but now he found imself upon the pedestal of this Scotch Diploma, he had the satisfaction of being called the little Doctor ; and the satisfac- tion also, of several sharp curtain lectures from his wife; this famous honor having cost him not less than 102. she often- times reminding him, for his extravagance in giving so much 5A DIALOGUE XXV. : parish, gave us a very different character of the life of Job, when he preached upon that text, “‘ My righte- ousness I hold fast, and will not let it go: my heart shall not reproach me, as long as I live.” The Doe- tor told us, that it was his own righteousness which was his confidence, and that thereby he obtained the reward of heaven. | Mrs. Lov. But you know my dear, neither you ner I have any great opinion of the little Doctor, or his” curate, Mr. Flimsey : we have both observed, while they seem to be aiming at something, they cannot, make out any thing. Butdo you not think you have a little misunderstood Mr. Lovegood? [To Mr. Lovegood,] Sir, it might be much to the satisfaction” of myself and my husband, if you would explain your- self still further on that subject. Loveg. Dear Sir, there is no doubt of the integrity and uprightness of Job : but while he was righteous, he was also self-righteous—in that lay his crime ; and this rendered him proud and angry before Ged. Lov. Proud and angry---Why, was not he the most patient man upon earth ? Loveg. Yes Sir, and this was abundantly exem- plified by his holy patience before God for seven long days and nights, when even after he had been hurled from the pinacle of the highest prosperity, into the gulph of the deepest adversity ; he could meekly say, «The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord;” nor was his pa- tience jess conspicuous, when cruelly tempted to curse God, he could submissively reply ; ‘shall we money for a dunce’s cap te cover his ignorance, and of the old proverb, A foul and his money are soon parted. However he con- trived, in a measure to quiet her mind, under the idea that the loss of the money would soon be recovered, as he was going to turn author, by re-publishing three famous novels; ‘Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Killer, and Old Mother Goose’s Tales. These he meant to enrich with certain annotations, lucubra- tions, and remarks of his own composing; and he had no doubt but that his Doctor’s degree, would wonderfully quicken the sale of the publication. SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 35) receive good at the hand of God, and shail we not receive evil?” But after tnis, his great patience aw- fully failed him. If*hitherto it might have been said, “Tn all this did not Job sin with his lips,” neither did he “charge God foolishly.” Yet afterwards, what must be said of him when his patience perfectly failed him, and when in the most endearing language, as in the third chapter, he could even curse the day in which he was born? I think Sir, you will be as much struck at his rebellion at one time, as at his patience at another. Lov. But if he did wrong in this, yet doubtless in other respects, he was a very righteous man. Loveg. Certainly so Sir; and before man, no one had a greater right to vindicate himself against the accusations of his three friends, who certainly mis- took his case: they concluded him very unjustly, to be an arrant hypocrite, and that God had detected him, and that therefore he was severely punishing for his crimes. As far as human righteousness went, he might venture to say, ‘‘ he would hold it fast, and would not let it go;” and no doubt, but that with the greatest justice he could further add, as it re- - spected the great and upright character he sustained; « When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness unto me; be- eause I delivered the poor that cried, and the father- less, and him that had no helper ; the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy. I put on righteousness, and it clothed me, and my judgment was as a robe and a diadem: I was eyes to the blind. and feet was Itothelame. I was a father to the poor, and the cause which I knew not, I searched out.” Lov. Why Sir, was it possible for any one to do more, to deserve the character of a righteous man, than he did? Could he be a good and a bad man at the same time? Sir, I cannot think we are called to renounce our integrity. Wor. Really Sir, you and I have been stumbling 56 DIALOGUE XX¥. upon the very same “stone of stumbling and rock of offence ;” I was as proud of my righteousness, as ever Job was of his, when I only looked at the surface of my character, as it appeared before man; and I thought Mr. Lovegood brought strange things to my ears, when I heard him assert from the Bible, that “there was none righteous, no not one.” Mrs. Wor. Indeed Sir, Mr. Worthy and myself were at first equally offended at Mr. Lovegood, when he brought us all down to the same level, though he only took us upon our own words, which we all adopt at church, ‘‘ enter not into judgment with thy servants, O Lord, for in thy sight shall no flesh living be justi- .fied.” But somehow, while he disarmed us of our self-righteousness, he contrived at the same time to disarm us of our prejudices, that we were both forced to submit. Loveg. Yes, and agreeably to Mr. and Mrs. Wor thy’s remark, it may further be observed respecting Job, that he did not know how much he had of the latent Pharisee in his heart, whereby he was led to “trust in himself, that he was righteous,” like the Pharisee of old, though in other respects, he was by — no means of their hypocritical cast. Lov. Why, how can another be righteous for us ? Loveg. Dear Sir, you do not understand me. He was rather led to applaud the goodness of his own heart, on account of these things, while he forgot to give glory to him, from whom all holy desires, all good counsels, and all just works, do proceed ;* or if you please, to give you it in other words, it should appear that he was more bent upon trusting in his own righteousness, than in God who made him righteous ; for, respecting the best of men, it may be said, as Eliphaz replied to Job, ‘‘ What is man that he should be clean, and he that is born of a woman, that ‘he should be righteous? Behold he putteth no trust in his saints; yea, the heavens are not clean in his sight. How much more abominable and filthy is * Common Prayer Book. SULF-RIGHTEQUSNESS EXAMINED. 37 man, which drinketh in iniquity like water?” And again, “Can a man be profitable unto God, as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself! Is it any plea- sure to the Almighty, that thou art righteous; or is it gain to him, that thou makest thy way perfect ?”* Nor can we conceive a more striking query, than that which we find in the same book. ‘“‘ How can man be justified with God ; and how can he be clean that is born of a woman; Behold, look even to the moon, and it shineth not: yea, the stars are not pure in his sight; how much less man that is a:worm, and the son of man that is a worm ?’"+ Lov. But really Sir, though I confess I am no di- vine, do not you think that Job’s friends went too far, in speaking against the merit of hisrighteousness? Loveg. I have already said, that fhey went much too far, while they accused him of hypocrisy and wickedness; yet we shall find that God himself ter. minated the controversy, by shewing Job, not only the folly of the supposed merit of his righteousness, but also the sinfulness of those proud thoughts, which must be brought down, as it were, by force of arms. Do Sir, let me remind you of that passage in St. Paul to the Corinthians: ‘‘ For the weapons of our war- fare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds; casting down imagina- tions, (or vain reasonings,) and every high thing, that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringeth into captivity every thought unto the abedience of Christ.” Lov. Sir, these are very strong words; are you sure you have quoted them correctly’? thongh, I dare say, you have done so to the best of your recollection. Loveg. I believe Sir, { am perfectly exact ; but while we further investigate the book of Job, 1 will consult my pocket bible, and we shall then go on certain ground. Mrs. Lov. Did I not tell-you, my dear George, that Mr. Lovegood could well explain himself on * Job xxii. 2, 3. + Job xxv. 4, 5, 6. 58 DIALOGUE XXV. these points ’---You see how he makes the Bible his constant study. . Lov. My dear 1 am quite ready to hear what Mr. Lovegood has to say, though I much fear lest his religion should do you harm. Loveg. {With his Bible in his hand.] Dear Sir, the religion of this book can never do us any harm. And if you will allow me to continue my observations on the book of Job, that should be first noticed which is said in the beginning of the thirty-second chapter of that book: <‘‘ So these three men ceased to answer Job, because he was righteous in his own eyes: and Elihu being sent of God to settle the controversy, thus charges Job for his presumptuous thoughts before God. ‘‘ Surely thou hast spoken in mine hearing, and I have heard the voice of thy words, saying, [ am clean without transgression ; Iam innocent ; neither is there iniquity in me. Behold, he findeth occasions against me ; he counteth me for his enemy. He putteth my feet in the stocks, he marketh all my paths. Behold, in this thou art not just; I will answer thee, that God is greater than man. Why dost thou strive against him? for he giveth not account of any of his matters?”* In the thirty-fourth chapter also, we find him reproved for the same sort of pride and rebellion; “‘ Job hath said, I am righteous, and God hath taken away my judgment. What man is like Job, who drinketh up scorning like water? who goeth in company, (at least in his conversation,) with the workers of ini- quity, and walketh with wicked men. For he hath said, it profiteth a man nothing, that he should de- light himself with God.” So that Ehhu is as it were, obliged to vindicate the cause of God, against the profane suggestions of Job, by saying, “‘ Far be it from God, that he should do wickedness, and from the Almighty that he should commit iniquity : yea, surely God will not do wickedly, neither will the Almighty pervert judgment; for that Job had spoken * Job xxxill, 8,13. SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 59 without knowledge, and his words were without wisdom.” It is the desire therefore of Elihu, “ that _ Job may be tried unto the end, because of his an- _ swers for wicked men: for be addeth rebellion unto _ his sin, and clappeth his hands against us, and mul- tiplieth his words against God.” I dare say Sir, you _ did not expect such strong expressions as these from _ Ebhu, against the supposed righteousness of Job. Mrs. Lov. See my dear, how plainly Mr. Love- good makes it out, what sinners we all are, on account _ of such wicked thoughts. Lov. Why I coniess, the subject never struck me so forcibly in this light before; but I am un- willing to give up the point yet: I wish to take some time to consider for myself; and with Mr. Lovegood’s leave, to consult with other divines on - the subject. Loveg. By all means, dear Sir, truth never suffers | by investigation. But even in the next chapter you _ will find a deal more of the same proud language, _ charged on Job, as uttered against God. ‘ Thou saidst (said he) my righteousness is more than God’s ;” _ therefore he adds, “‘ What advantage will it be to me, and what profit shall I have if I be cleansed from my sin?” Elihu therefore asks Job the ques- _ tion, “ If thou be righteous, what givest thou him; or what receiveth he at thine hand? Thy wicked- _ ness may hurt a man as thou art, and thy righteous- ness may profit the son of man: thus, he concludes, that “Job opened his mouth in vain, and multi- plied his words without knowledge.” And Sir, if [have not tired you with the number of my quota- ‘tions, you may further see what was the design of God in this controversy with Job, “that he might withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from a man ;” he therefore humbled him by sickness, and a variety of the most severe dispensations in pro- vidence, that he might further be convinced of the _sinfulness of his heart; for “If any man say I have sinned, and perverted that which was right, aud it profiteth me not; he will deliver his soul from going” mito the pit, and his life shall see the light; for all” these things God cften works with man, to bring” back his soul from the pit, and to be enlightened” with the light of the living.” How wise and appli- cable therefore was the advice of Elihu? Surely, it is meet to be said unto God, “I have borne chas-— tisement, I will not offend any more; that which [ see not, teach thou me: if I have done iniquity, I will’ do so no more.” Wor. Indeed Mr. Lovely, I think you wonld find it truly profitable, if you would attend a little more closely to the experience of Job. The speech of Elihu always struck me, as containmg some of the most strong and conclusive arguments, against the proud and vain conceit, that any of us can be righteous before God. What arguments he deduces from the purity of God, the infinity of his wisdom, the dignity and majesty of his existence, to shew man the emptiness and folly of all he does, and to lay” him in the dust, that he may be sensible what a poor unprofitable creature he is in every point of view, and that “in his best estate, he is altogether vanity.” Miss Wor. Why through the kind providence of God bestowed upon me in my education, I am not chargeable with outward sins before man, yet I am sure it is not so with me before God; surely it is the height of folly for any of us to conceit, that we can be righteous before God. Lov. But did not God after all this, turn the cap- tivity of Job, and make the latter end of his life more glorious than the former, as a proper reward for his Integrity, humility, and patience ? Loveg. No verily my good Sir. God never gave him a reward for his goodness; though he merci- fully restored him by his mere grace and forgiving love, even after all the hard and presumptuous thoughts he had uttered against him: but not till after he had cast him down from the high pinnacle 60 DIALOGUE XXV. ' SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED 61 of his pride, into the valley of humiliation, where we all, either sooner or later, must be brought to lie. And there, if you read with attention, that most instructive and remarkable history, you will find how God himself condescended to deal with him, till he made him to lie in the dust: and then he was first constrained to cry, “ Behold I am vile! what shall I answer thee? [I will lay my hand upon my mouth : oace have I spoken, but I will not answer; yea, twice : but L will proceed no further.” And let me request you to consider the solemn conclusion of the controversy: “1 have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee. Where- fore, I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” Wor. My dear Mr. Lovely, I have heard Mr. - _ Lovegood frequently remark,what a mistaken book this has been among all those who have not been sufficiently attentive to this blessed portion of holy writ ; and that no part of the word of God can be better calculated to humble the pride of man, and to produce in us a deep sense of our own unworthiness; | so as that we may be brought to accept salvation, _ where only it can be found, in the person of our blessed Savior, who lived and died to “ justify the odly.” "irs: Lov. O my dear! sure you must be convine- ed what Mr. Lovegood, Mr. and Mrs. Worthy have been saying is all true; as to myself, I must confess _fwhat proud, blasphemous, and rebellious thoughts I. have had—The Lord for Christ's sake, have mercy upon me! [She drops a tear.] _ Lov. [To Mr. Lovegood.] Sir, I must request you to drop this subject ; you see my wife cannot bear ' it; her mind is much too tender to sustain the shock _of your harsh religion ; besides Sir, I cannot admit - the doctrines you have advanced, till I have examined _ matters more closely for myself: [to Mr. Worthy] | and I believe Sir, with your leave, it will be necessary | for my wife to recreate her spirits by a short walk in your pleasure ground. . ; 4 VOL, II. a 62 DIALOGUE XXV. =< They accordingly submit, and the parties retire, — Between the Lovelys, the conversation took the same turn as before: he continuing to plead the ne- cessity of her non-attendance on Mr. Lovegood’s ministry, for the sake of her health ; and she repeating her most anxious wishes to hear more of those things, which though they had forced some tears from her eyes, yet she was satisfied were well calculated to do ~ ’ infinite good to her heart. Mr. Lovely still finding it necessary to submit to her importunate desires, they returned, and attended with the rest of the family to the meeting of the poor children. Mr. Lovegood’s method with the children, was at all times the most ‘tender and engaging ; but now in his exhortation, es- pecially so, as he had found a poor child that had lately been impressed under the evil of sin, he madeit a point to bring forward, in sweet abundance, those pre- cious promises of the gospel, which might be best calculated to cheer the heart of Mrs. Lovely, under. the new discovery of her sinful state : and this had so far the desired effect, that the gloomy ap- prehensions of Mr. Lovely, seemed in a measure again to subside, and a degree of cheerfulness took — place, which continued through the evening of the day. Uowien Mr. Lovely’s mind continued to be se exercised upon the subject, that he was not only determined to dispute every inch of ground with’ Mr. Lovegood ; but to provide himself with such ma- terials as he conceived would be best calculated, to make him a successful combatant. He accordingly went the next morning to Mapleton, and enquired where there was a bookseller’s shop ; he was recom- mended of course to Mr. Wisehead; and asked him if jhe had any books of good sound divinity! Mr. Wisehead would have put into his hands many of the books of the modern Socinians, and among others, he requested him to read a few pages of Priestly on Necessity. Mr. Lovely then asked Mr. SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 63 Wisehead, if that was not an abridgment of Hobbs, Spinoza, and other infidel philosophers. Upon this some conversation took place between Mr. Wise- head and Mr. Lovely, who was much more shocked at the horrid extremes of the Socinians, than ever he could be at the dreary notions of Mr. Lovegood. ~ Finding however, that he could not make any thing out from this quarter, he next enquired about the Minister of the Parish, whether he thought it would be deemed impertinent, if he went to consult him as a divine. Mr. Wisehead observed, that he sup- posed Mr. Dolittle might give him a kind reception, and that he was sure to find him at home, as he was but just gone by, towards the Rectory; but that there was a Dr. Dronish, the dissenting Minister, whom he attended, who was looked upon to bea very able and rational divme. Mr. Lovely thanked him for his information ; but thatif the Doctor was an admirer of the same sort of divinity as was to be found in his shop, he had rather go the regular way to work, and consult the Minister of the Parish. Having thus resolved, he purchased nothing mere than a flimsy sermon of Mr. Archdeacon Smooth- tongue’s, which is much admired by the Socinians, shewing that all the austere texts in the Bible, ought to be confined to primitive times, as they were not fit for the present day, and took his leave of Mr. Wisehead, and resorted to Mr. Do- little’s. He first introduced himself as a traveller ; mention- ed his kind entertainment at Mr. Worthy’s, and then began telling him how his mind had been unhinged and puzzled by the preaching of Mr. Lovegood. Do- little immediately interrupts him by saying,—‘‘ What did you go to hear that mad fellow for ?”—“ Sir” said Mr. Lovely, “ I always love to go to the Parish Church on a Sunday; and his divinity struck both me and my wife, as being very different from what we commonly hear. I should be glad Sir, if you would but explain some matters to me; I come with your leave, to con- 64 DIALOGUE XXV. sult you as a divine.”—“I explain matters!” says Dolittle: “‘what have you to do with such abstruse notions in religion as he preaches? You are not the first person that has had his brains turned, by going after the ranting nonsense preached by that good- for-nothing designing fellow.”— [ Lovely adjoins: ] “ Why Sir, Mr. Lovegood in my opinion, is nei- ther a mad man, nor a bad man; but I confess, I at least expected a civil answer to a civil question.” — Dolittle answers: ‘‘ Sir, to tell you the truth, when people come canting and talking about their souls, I always suspect they come with some design ; and TJ am sure they do, if they come from that quarter. None of my parishioners ever come to me with such whining tales. I tell them their duty on a Sunday; and if they practise it, that is enough for them; and it will be enough for you: and so you may go away and mind your business ; for I expect Sir, you are upon the catch; but you shall get nothing out of me.” This coarse reception was quite like a thunder-clap — to the mild and amiable Mr, Lovely, and made him glad to escape from the presence of the enraged Rec- tor as fast as he could. However, these rebuffs did not damp the in- quisitive zeal of Mr. Lovely after trath ; and while he could start many objections against Mr. Love- good’s doctrines, yet notwithstanding he had some serious misgivings, that all might not be right. However this visit had this good effect. The con- — trast between the rudeness and ignorance of Rec- | tor Dolittle, and the meek, humble, and affectionate conduct of Mr. Lovegood, made Mr. Lovely, after- wards receive with greater candour and modera- tion, whatever he had to advance on these important subjects. . Another circumstance however occurred, which also gave a still more favorable turn to his prejudices. — Though Mr. Merryman had left Brookfield-Hall, oa the previous Sunday, yet he returned thither on. the Wednesday. An attractive loadstone in the person SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 65 of Miss Worthy was supposed to be the cause of these frequent communications ; and the reader will have-no reason to doubt, but that the result of this courtship will be as honorable, correct, and good, as the parties are themselves. There are few living, of amore amiable, pleasant, and excellent turn of mind, than Mr. Merryman, since he has known the grace of God in truth; while every year Mr. Love- good has the uncommon satisfaction to see his be- loved “‘ son in the gospel” grow in every good word and work. No wonder that one of such an amiable temper and manners, soon stole into the good graces of the Lovelys. Mr. Lovely especially admired his great candor and liberality in speaking about that wor- thy old clergyman Doctor Orderly, thovogh he had been holding a long controversy with him on con- ditional justification ; admiring that a difference in sentiment, could not prevent him from speaking very largely of the Doctor’s temper, diligent dis- charge of his duty, liberality and great attention to the poor. That while his dignified priestly appear- ‘ance would rather alarm them, yet his humble de- portment would still allure them; that by the very respectable regularity of his conduct, he had got the character, among others, of a precise old fool, and especially from the following circumstance, which had recently taken place. While Mr. Sedate, his curate, was ona visit at a distance, to see his friends, the Doctor was unex- pectedly taken ill, when his presence was needed to attend the funeral of one who died oi a mortifica- tion. A speedy interment being necessary, the Doc- tor was in much perplexity to know who should perform this office. It was hinted to him that the Rev. Mr. Jackadandy, a neighbouring clergyman, would be glad to do that service for him. This the Doctor instantly resisted, saying he would sooner die than that the sacred offices of the church should suffer the disgrace of being performed by such cox- 66 DIALOGUE XXV. “combs in divinity. ‘The Doctor accordingly, dressed like an old woman, in his morning gown, with his handkerchief about his head, staggered out of his chamber and performed the office.* The reader will naturally suppose, that on the Wednesday evening lecture, Mr. Lovegood would avail himself of the assistance of Mr. Merryman, and a previous hint having been given him respecting the state of the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, he preach- ed a very appropriate sermon on the following text,— “« Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace;” and all the famiiy returned from the church serious, yet cheerful and happy. This gave Mrs. Lovely a further opportunity of obviating her husband’s objection, as it respected the melancholy consequences of real religion. Mr. Merryman isal- — ways cheerful, and now she was cheerful too; and * Tf the reader wishes for a further description of the race of these pseudo-spiritual monkies in holy orders, they are generally to be known by their loose and vain affectation, especially in their dress. They are the fools of fashion ; and as i now dress, you would rather suppose them to be a set of jockies in half-mourning. The present Mr. Jackadandy always appears stuffed out with such anabundance of wadding about his neck- cloth and collar, that he reminds you of a pouting pigeon. His coat behind is cut quite short like a soldier’s jacket, while he never appears but in his short boots, over his coltsixed stockings, whisking about his little cane with amazing dexterity, like a magic wand ; and as soon as the fashion changes, there is no» doubt but that he will be the same dapper Jackadandy in the next extremes should the jacket or coat grow into such a size as to be turned into a petticoat. One observation further, as it respects the furniture of the pates of these Jackadandys. Their studies are mostly confined to the paltry, loose, periodical publications: of the day: out of these shies pick and cull different passages, and these, with awkward impertinence, they retail as their own. As for the study of divinity, how far that claims any share of their atten- tion is easily settled. When one of them, being under exami- nation for orders, was asked, Who is the Mediator between “God and man? he profoundly answered, it was His Grace the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Can any one wonder, that the grave and respectable’ Dr. Orderly should be so disgusted at such a Jackadandy, as not to permit him even to bury the dead? SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. 67 though at times, she would still drop the penitential tear; yet as she was in the way of hearing so much of these gracious promises, which are so freely held forth in the word of God, her mind seemed to be much more allured by the gospel, than alarmed by the law; and this made Mr. Lovely less anxious to move his quarters, However on the next evening, at family prayer, Mr. Merryman read the third chapter of the epistle to the Romans, which so decidedly settles the point of our justification, alone ‘through the redemption which is in Christ,” that Mr. Merryman supposed he had a right to say, some people were more in danger from their good works than their bad ones, if they were tempted to make them a matier of their confi- dence before God. After the family service, it appeared that this speech considerably offended the self-r ighteous views of Mr. Lovely. He thought it very odd, that the Almighty should require nothing of us in point of justification ; and that if such sentiments were just, good people had no better chance for heaven than bad ones ; that though we certainly ought, in a measure, to trust in our Savior’s merits, yet it still seemed very strange to him, that nothing should: be required of us, _ to entitle ourselves to those merits. ‘Thus the con- _yersation on the same subject recommenced, while Mr. Merryman very properly begged that the Bible itself, without any forced commentary whatever, _ might settle the point. The same apostle was, there- _ fore, referred to, to make good his own conclusion, _ that “aman is justified by faith only, without the | deeds of the law :” while Mr. Lovely was not a little | sarprised to find in the fourth chapter, that the justi- | fication of the person of Abraham was by faith only, _ in the righteousness of Christ, which was accounted, _ reckoned, or imputed,* to all them that believe; and that the works of Abraham, as mentioned by St. ____® These three expressions are all the same in the original Greek. te el 68 DIALOGUE XXV. 4 James, were not to justify his person before God, but” his faith before man ; because if it were otherwise to be interpreted, it would be utterly impracticable to reconcile St. Paul and St. James to each other ; and — equally impossible that we could be justified by the faith of the Gospel only, as St. Paul declares, in order “that we may have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Thus the perplexity of Mr. Lovely was very con- siderable, while the conversation was highly satisfac- tory to the feelings of Mrs. Lovely, who almost shocked the formality of her amiable husband, by saying, that all she did was so intermixed with sin, | though these feelings grieved her to the heart, that she felt her need of mercy as much as the vilest Mag: . dalen on the earth. However Mr. Lovely, finding himself hard pressed, begged for quarter: he requested to know, as Dr. Orderly was such an excellent man, and seemed to. be more of his way of thinking, whether he could not contrive so as to have an interview with him.— The hospitable and friendly Mr. Merryman imme-_ diately observed, that he did not doubt it ; that he and the worthy Doctor were on very friendly terms ; and that as his living was but about six miles from his house, he was sure the Doctor would treat him as a_ gentleman and a Christian. But as he was always much engaged in composing fresh sermons for his congregation, he did not love to be interrupted to- wards the latter end of the week; that he could as — yet, give Mr. Lovely nothing better than bachelor’s: fare, ‘though he hoped to see better days, (casting a wishful look at Miss Worthy) but that still he would do his best. This generous conduct and affectionate familiarity, | still more interested the Lovelys in the favor of Mr. Merryman. A promise was given that they would make an excursion to Sandover ; the result of which will soon be communicated to the reader. DIALOGUE XXVI. MR. WORTHY, MR. LOVEGOOD, FARMER LITTLEWORTH HENRY, AND OTHERS. THB STORY OF MRS. CHIFMAN RESUMED. Containing an account of the return of Henry Lit- tleworth, and the happy death of Mr. Chipman. DUR G the absence of. the Lovelys, while on their visit to Mr. Merryman, Henry Littleworth returned. The result of this visit shall now be brought forward. Far. [To his wife.] Why dame, here is old Nelly Trot, the letter-carrier ; she has brought a letter from Mapleton, and itis from Harry. Dear Child, I hope heiscoming home. It appears to me asif he had been gone a longful time. [To Miss Nancy.] Nancy my a pay the postage, and give poor Nelly a cup ot Miss Nancy. Nelly, what does the letter come to? Nelly. Hight-pence Miss. Mrs. Lit. Eight-pence! why it is just double since this French war. Far. Never mind dame, the Lord be thanked ! better pay a few more taxes than be governed by Bonypart, and the French folk ; but come in, and let us read the letter. [The Farmer puts on his spectacles and reads it.] 70 DIALOGUE XXVI. “MY MOST DEAR FATHER, 4 “ Through the great mercy of God, all the designs of my journey to Locksbury have been fully answered.—Mr. Chipman resigned his soul into the — hands of God on Wednesday last. What blessed — things he said during his sickness; and what a glo- rious end he made of it! I was with him in the solemn ~ moments of his departure—When he felt himself going, he took me by the hand and kissed it, and then said, God bless you a thousand times for your atten- tion to my precious soul. I said to him, Dear Sir, — you are just going ‘to be dissolved and be with Christ: then he stammered out, word after word, — ‘ Our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a fa: more exceeding and eternal — weight of glory. [ie immediately closed his eyes, — squeezed my hand, and then said, * God is come; fetched a long sigh, and breathed no more, Mr, Reader was also standing at the bed-side ; and when he perceived his son-in-law was going, fell down on — his knees, and offered up a secret prayer; and after — he fuund he was dead, while a plentiful shower of — tears were running down his cheeks, he kissed his — corpse, and said, the best of husbands, the most af- fectionate son-in-law is now no more, ‘“ Oh! that my poor unfortunate daughter should have been the - death of such a worthy man.” Oh, my dear father ! what scenes I have beheld since [ left your house on this occasion.—But, be sure don’t tell Mrs. Chipman what Mr. Reader said when her husbanddied. And I think it will be best not to inform her of any thing ~ about his death, till after my return, for then I can first tell her what a blessed state of mind he was brought into before he died, which may be the most likely way of preserving her heart from being broken, by the death of her husband, through her unfaithful conduct. “« Oh my dear parents ! how rejoiced I am, that my base conduct had not the same effects on you, as Mrs. Chipman’s elopement has had on her poor hus- — SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED. wAl band : and what a mercy it is, dear Father, that your once profligate son should now be employed on an errand in which he has had the honor of conveying the news of the same salvation he has felt on his own _ heart, to ethers that were once as ignorant, if not as . wicked, as himself.” [Here the farmer takes off his spectacles, and weeps and cries, “‘ O this child, this sweet child! see what the grace of God cando. The Lord be praised ! -—O what would I give, if Polly and Patty were but like my dear Harry !”] Mrs. Lit. Master, your spirits are so affected, had I not better pour you outa glass of currant wine ? Far. No 1 thank you dame.—Harry’s letter is bnt a short one, I'll read the rest of it. [The spec- tacles are again mounted, and the Farmer proceeds with the letter.] *« As the end of my coming to this place is now accomplished, and as I have already been above a month from home, f wish to return as soon as cir- cumstances will allow.—But Mr. Reader is so very anxious that I should stop over the funeral, and help him to settle his son’s affairs, that I cannot resist his. importunate request. I fear therefore, I shall not be at home till next Friday, or Saturday se’nnight; though indeed, if I were to stop in these parts another Sabbath after the next, I think my patience would be quite exhausted. You cannot conceive, my dear Father, what a difference there is between the ser- mons of Mr. Fribble and Mr. Lovegood.—Blessed be God, I never was made so thankful for the preach- ing of the word of life, as since I have for a season _ been deprived of it. At times it quite affects'me, ' that the people in these parts should hear no more of ! : 4 : the Gospel, and sometimes hardly as much as might be expected from a mere heathen teacher. As I _ hope, with the Lord’s blessing to see you again soon, f I need only add for the present, that when you have time, it might not be amiss if you could ride | down to Mr. Lovegood, and consult him about the 72 DIALOGUE XXVI. best plan of laying before Mrs. Chipman her family affairs: and in this, and every concern, may the Lord give us wisdum and grace to act as shall be most consistent with his glory! With my kind love to my sisters, and most affectionate duty to you, dear Fa- ther and Mother, I an, Your most dutiful and loving son, HENRY LITTLEWORTH.” — The Farmer, according tu his son’s advice, went to Mr. Lovegood to consult him. Mr, Lovegood was of — opinion that Mr. Worthy would be glad still further to interest himself on this business, It was therefore — agreed, that directly as Mr. Henry came home they should all go together to Brookfield Hall, and that Mr. Lovegood should give Mr. Worthy previous notice of © their intentions. Henry returned on the Friday evening, as he men- tioned in his letter. We pass by all the affectionate intercourse, between him and his own relatives on his arrival, and record the conversation which took place on the Saturday morning according to appointment. [Farmer Littleworth, Henry, and Mr. Lovegood — are introduced. } Wor. How do youall do? Come in, Mr. Little- worth, 1 wish you joy on your son’s return, Far. Thank your honor; but it seems as if he — had been gone for anage. Harry and I never loved ane another as we do now, till we both were taught to love the Lord. [To Henry.] Ay’né it so my dear child? Hen. Ah father, I hope we shall both have eternal reason tu bless God for his love. This. sets all right between parents and children, and all the world, if all - was wrong before. ‘ Wor. Well, let us all sit down, and then Mr. Henry HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 73 will inform us what passed at Locksbury, that we may know how to act. Hen. Though I have already been telling my fa- ther about matters: yet for the sake of your infor- mation Sir, I had better relate things from the be- ginning. Wor. I wish you would Mr. Henry. By what we have heard from the letters you sent to your father, I expect it will be a very interesting nar- ration. Hen. Why Sir, as soon as I got to Locksbury, I called first on Mr. Reader, told him who I was, and on what errand I came, and then gave him Mr. Lovegood’s letter, and the three books. While he read the letter, he appeared very much affected in- deed ; and after he had finished it, he cried, ‘* What would I give to know the writer of this letter! What a good man, and a good preacher he must be, to have wrought such a reformation on my poor daughter! And what a character Mr. Worthy must be, to take so kind a part on behalf of that unfortunate girl !” After some other conversation, he observed, [to Mr, Lovegood] that your notions in religion were, till of late, widely different from his ; but that he conceived the reason was, that he had been much more en- gaged in studying the works of men, than the word of God. Loveg. All the errors that abound in the world, arise from mankind bringing their preconceived no- tions to the word of God, instead of coming in the spirit of a child to be instructed, but after that ex- cellent remark, I think you had better not have given him the books, which were sent for his acceptance. Hen. Why, I could not do otherwise, as they were mentioned in the letter; but I said he was to judge of those books, only by the word of God, and not of the word of God by them. Wor. Did you go to see poor Mr. Chipman, the same day you had the first interview with Mr. Reader? Hen. No Sir ; Mr. Reader said, after’ ne had dis- VOL. II, H <7 74 DIALOGUE XXVi. 4 missed lis school, he would. prepare his, son’s mind for the visit on the next day. And so he took Mrs, — Chipman’s letter, and that which you Sir, [to Mr. Lovegood,] wrote to him, that he might read, them. be- fore I saw him. Loveg. This was a predent step, but what was the result ? ; ; ; Hen. O Sir! the condition poor Mr, Reader was in, on his retarn that evening, can never be expressed, He told me the grief of his son-in-law was so strong, © that he could not leave the house till near midnight, Mr. Chipman’s. perpetual ery. was, “ Oh, that my dear Jemima had known Mr. Lovegood before she — had met with that horrid profligate, who seduced her !"—It was very affecting to see an old grey- headed: man, crying, sobbing, and sighing, under such a calamity. Wor. After this, I suppose the next day you visited Mr. Chipman. Hen. Yes Sir; but before he went to bed, I plucked up courage and said, “ Sir, is it not time to go to family prayer?” He blushed exceedingly and then answered, ‘‘I generally pray by myself;’ and then added : “ But if what Mr. Lovegood says be true, I fear I never prayed in all my life.” And being but young in years, and much younger still in grace, I thought it would look too forward in me to propose prayer myself. Iam afraid 1 was. once much more bold as a sailor, than 1 am now asia christian. After this Mr. Reader shewed me to my bed, which he had kindly provided forme, and the next day L went and visited Mr. Chipman. Wor. Poor man! And how did you find him? Hen. O Sir ! there I saw one that was but a little while before a fine personable young man, literally dying of a broken heart, and reduced to a skeleton, in the last stage of a rapid consumption, with his hands twisted in each other, and his eyes running down with tears. Then he cried, “ Oh! that un- feeling wretch, whe conld take suelva cruel advantage HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. GO on my poor thoughtless wife! What atreasure I -once thought I possessed in her! Well, well, I thank God that she is a penitent; and the Lord make me a penitent too! For though I ‘have been kept from all outward acts of injustice: between man and man; yet I now see, by Mr. Lovegood’s letters, and by some closer attention to my Bible, if I am not saved by mercy, I shall be ruined forever.” And seemg them both so very humble, I took courage, and iasked them if [ should go to prayer, and they immediately consented. Loveg. And how did they seem after prayer? Hen. Oh Sir! all the time we were at prayer, poor Mr. Chipman did nothing but sob:and cry, till _ was almost as much overcome as himself; and Mr. Reader was quite as much affected as either of us. I humbly trust Sir, through the mercy of God, it was prayer indeed. Far. [To Mr. Lovegood.] And what amerey it is, that my dear child can make such a distingwish- ment between real prayer and sham prayer. The Lord be praised ! Loveg. Well, but Mr. Littleworth, with your leave, we should be glad if your son would continue the story. Hen. After prayer, I talked to them from my own experience as well.as I could; what wicked hearts we all have, and how we all sin at least by our skort- comings, for as the apostle says, “‘ we come shortiof his glory” every moment we live; and then I went on telling them of the glorious salvation of our blessed Redeemer, and the need there was that our hearts should be changed, or that we must be regenerate, and made new creatures in Christ, before we can be taken to glory. And I remember it was just then that Mr. Reader said, it was but the other day he thought it all nonsense to talk about a change of heart, if we were but moral; but that now he shuddered at his own ignorance. Zoveg, All this was blessed teaching. The first “J 6 DIALOGUE XXVI. work of the Divine Spirit is to convince a man of sin: we know nothing, till we know that ‘we are vile.” Hen. Yes Sir, and Mr. Reader seemed to be convinced of this, for he said to me, ‘* 1 seem to have been doing all my life, and have done nothing right after all. Loveg. Well, well; this knowledge must have been not less profitable, than it was painful. Hen. He even went so far as to say, that nothing shocked him so much as what he once fancied was his righteousness. He was thoroughly convinced, that even his prayers were but mere farce and form; and that, as of late he had been seriously reading over the Church Prayers, he now saw he had been saying a thousand times with his lips, what he had never felt in his heart. Loveg. Nothing but a knowledge of our misery, will ever prompt us to seek for mercy. How dif-— ferent the language of Mr. Reader now, to what it was when our correspondence first commenced ? But as it seems by your letters to your father, the family would not let you leave them till after Mr. Chipman’s- death, you can tell us further of the good man’s expe- rience before his departure. Hen. Why Sir, | first advised him to withdray all kis thoughts from the calamities he had suffered by the seduction of Mrs. Chipman, as all those temporal connexions would soon be dissolved by death. Loveg. That was good advice. Was he able to follow it? Hen. In a great measure he was. Mr. Reader and I went to see him every day, and sometimes oftener. He was never happy but when one of us was with him. Sometimes we went.together; and at other times. we would take it by turns. And when Mr. Reader was with him, as well as I could, I used to attend on his scholars; for Mr, Chipman was always complaining of his ignorance, and begging us to read to him, when his strength would in any mea- HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 77 “gure to enable him ‘to attend. He in general used to engage his father to read out of Beveridge’s Private Thoughts ; but when I was with him, he would scarcely suffer me to take any other book but the Bible. Wor. Isuppose, to speak thetruth, you could tell him the meaning of it a little better than his fa- ther ? é Hen. Why Sir, I did it according to the best of my poor little ability. But it is amazing what questions he would ask at one time, and what surprize he discovered at the plain reading of the word of | Godatanother. And the nearer he drew to his end, how delighted he seemed to be with the gracious promises of redemption and pardon through Jesus Christ, crying, “‘ Nothing but mercy will now do for me.” Then he mentioned those words in St. Jude, “ looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus unto eter- nal hfe.” ; Loveg. It is happy for us when we are brought to that blessed point. Christ on his mercy-seat, must be all our hope. rots) Hen. How he was charmed with such texts as these: “‘Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’—“ Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world.”—“ Wherefore he is able to save to the ut- termost, them that come unto God by him; seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for us.”—“ Ye are complete in him.” And when I was reading that text, “That we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus,” I remember how he cried, “Blessed be God, 1 shallsoon be presented perfect in Christ Jesus!” Then he said, “Mr. Littleworth, do I quote that text a right ?”—“ Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? it is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again; who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh -intercession for us?” And then he added the other part of the text, 7&8 © )? DIALOGUE XXVI. ‘* For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” JIremember he talked in this manner about ten days before his death. Loveg. Then it should appear, that as the strength of his body decreased, his faith and confidence in Ged increased, Hen. Indeed Sir it did; for often when I asked him a question, he would directly answer it by a quotation from Scripture. Once, when I asked him how he was, he answered, “ The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keeps my heart and mind through Jesus Christ.” Then he paused and said, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee :” He is “‘ my resting place,” and “his rest is glorious.” Wor. It is really surprising how well he recollected the Scriptures. Hen. Why, from a formal attendance at, church, and from an occasional perusal of the Scriptures before he was taken ill, he was not altogether ignorant of that book ; but after his illness commenced, nothing would do for him but the Bible ; and from the first of his visitation, he was ever seeking after something, he was satisfied was still wanting. Mr. Fribble brought him Pope’s Essay on Man, and recommend- ed him to say his Universal Prayer, thinking that would do him good, . Loveg. Good ! What good could he get from such peach trash? What poor sinner could ever find out salvation by Christ, by reading such divinity, if it~ deserve the name. Hen. Indeed, when I was with him, there was very little danger of his being captivated with such ‘books; for when I once told him that he liked the old book best, he cried, “‘ Old book! why every letter of it is new to me. How avhbamed | am of oF HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 79 myself, that I have so much overlooked its meaning till now; but oh! what grace and mercy, that God, at the eleventh hour of my short life, should have made it such a delightful. book to my soul; though I never knew its real meaning till after Mr. Lovegaod had corresponded with my father.”. Towards the conclusion of his illness, he grew so spiritual, that he »séemed almost always in prayer, or engaged in quot- -ing some promises of the Gospel, so that it was with some difficulty we could get him to settle his family affairs. _ Wor. Pray Mr. Henry, who did you get to make his will? Hen. Why Sir, it was mostly done by Mr. Reader and myself. The old gentleman is half a lawyer, and is often consulted on law occasions; and Mr. Chipman left that matter entirely with him: he only desired it might be mentioned, that he forgave his _wife from the bottom of his soul; that as he trusted her repentance was sincere, she ought not to think of a second marriage, while their only child, and_ still an infant, demanded the utmost of her attention and care. That though he would wish to leave it under guardians, yet he recommended them to intrust it to the mother so long as she did her duty by it; that what little property he might have realized by his business, should be preserved for the child; but that under the direction of the guardians, the interest might belong to his wife for her maintenance, and for the education of the child; and Mr. Reader and I settled his accounts as well as we could. Wor. This was very just and fair, and we shall all act in the same upright manner, while we are under the influence of divine grace. Far. But Harry my child, I would rather hear you go on, and tell us how the good man died : it is mighty moving to me, to hear what precious things he was able to speak. Blessed be God, at times, I Know something of the same experience ; though, at other times, I feel myself sadly tosticated by the 380 DIALOGUE KXVI. devil and my wicked heart; yet I think, by the blessing of God, I feel I hate sin a thousand times worse than I hate a toad. Hen. Well then father, we'll go on with the rest of it. Poor Mr. Chipman, a few days before: his death, had strong fainting fits, and was entirely con. fined to his bed. After one of these fits he cried, *« though my flesh and my heart faileth, yet God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever- more.” And when I observed that he appeared very faint, he directly answered, ‘ For this cause I faint not; for though my outward man perish, yet the in- ward man is renewed day by day.” And then again, after he had been discharging a deal of corruption from his lungs, and looking at his hands and arms, now worn away to mere skin and bones, he cried, ‘“This corruptible shall put on incorruption; and this mortal sball put on immortality. Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: Death is swallowed up in victory.” I am sure that I have given up my precious soul into the hands of my dear Redeemer: and though 1 seem to feel myself the poorest sinner that ever lived, yet now through him I can sing, “‘O death! where is thy sting? O grave! where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin ; and the strength of sin is the law: but thanks be to God, sis giveth us the victory through Jesus Christ our rd.” Loveg. He seemed to be made of “a quick un- derstanding in the fear of the Lord;” while his me- mory was preserved wonderfully retentive and cor- rect. Hen. Sir, he was always asking me to point him out those parts of Scripture, which I thought were most applicable to his state, as a dying man; and those chapters. or psalms he would be perpetually reading, as long as he was able, while his poor head, through weakness, was tottering upon his shoulders all the time. He was particularly delighted with the gospel of St. John. I remember he ance said, HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 81 ‘« How little have I known till of late, what our blessed Savior could mean, by saying that he was “the bread of life,’ and ‘the living bread which came down from heaven ;” but now it is explained to me by what our Lord said, « He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me and I in him ;” and, ‘‘ whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day ;’ and my soul can truly cry, “Thy flesh is meat indeed, and thy blood is drink indeed.” He was also peculiarly delighted with the fourteenth chapter, about our Lord’s having gone before to pre- pare many mansions for his people. And 1 remem- ber while he was talking on that subject, with what a rapture he brought forward that text, “We know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dis- _ solyed, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” Then he repeated the first verse of a hymn I had frequently read to him; and with which he was wonderfully de- lighted. Loveg, What was the hymn, Mr, Henry? Henry. Jesus, thy blood and righteousness, My beauties are, my glorious dress ; *Midst flaming worlds, in these array ’d, With joy shall I lift up my head. _ Then he paused awhile and further added : When from the dust of death I rise, To take my mansions in the skies ; Ev’n then shall this be all my plea, Jesus hath liv’d, and dy’d for me. Far. [To Henry.] But I thought my child, you told me he was most delighted at that hymn our mi- nister put out, at the funeral of good old Edward be waa the Taylor : what a brave Christian nes sure e was ! DIALOGUE XXXVI. When we behold the heavenly state, The rest that doth thy saints await ! What streams of comfort fill the soul, What floods of bliss around us roll ! Above the-world by faith we rise, And taste the joys abeve the skies ; With angels feast, with angels join, In hymns immortal and divine. On wings of love still upwards borne, Downward we look with holy scorn ; The pains and pleasures of this life, Afford us neither joy nor grief. [The farmer hesitates]—There now, if 1 haye not forgot how it goes on! I am afraid I am too’ near a-kin to the old man, Master Bunyan calls Mr, For- get-good. Hen. I think I can recollect them father; it is amazing what a heaven seemed to be upon Mr. Chip- man’s countenance, whenever he repeated them. While we enjoy this blissful sight, With hearts o’erwhelm’d with sweet delight ; We long to reach that heawnly shore, And see this evil world no more. O how we dread to sin again! *Tis sin alone that gives us pain : We wish to melt in tears of blood, Because we sin against our God. But what are all these tastes of love, To those we shall enjoy above ? Just as a drop to all the sea; A moment to eternity ! Wor. No wonder that he felt himself so delighted with a hymn, so suitable to his state; but did he continue in the same happy frame of mind till his death ? 5 Hen. Why I remember, he sighed two or three times, and seemed a little dejected. I reminded HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 83 him of that text, “‘ When the enemy cometh in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord lifteth up a standard ainst him.” He directly said, “‘ Why should I fear, od is love: he hath loved me, and given himself for me. He will never leave me; he will never for- sake me?’—I cannot recollect half the good things he said, but I never shall forget the two last visits Mr. Reader and I paid him, om the last day of his life. Lovey. Itis very confirming to hear of the testimony of dying believers: in the Lord Jesus; as I mean to make some improvement of this event from the pulpit, FT should be glad of further particulars. _. Hen. We were not a little surprised on the morning visit, at his fst requesting that Mr. Fribble should be immediately sent for, and that he might be de- sired to come while we were there ; aati according to his wish, he was sent for directly. He then: gave | me the reason for the request, in some such broken language as this. Asan instrument in the hands of _ God, how are we indebted to Mr. Lovegood for: all | we know? “It is the dying wish of my heart, that _ he may be invited to our town ; and I have no other desire to speak to Mr. Eribble, than to beseech him | to lend the pulpit on that occasion to Mr. Lovegood ; _and I hope it will be no injury to my poor penitent | wife, and my dear child, if I leave him ten pounds | to pay the expences of the journey. Mr. Reader not only approved the plan, but mentioned how glad _ he should be to receive him into his house as a guest ; | adding, that till he had corresponded with Mr. Love- | good, though he had so often read his Bible as a | school-master, he never understood it as a Christian. _ Far. How did E! in the days of my ignorance _admire our Rector, Mr. Dolittle, for two sermons he ) used to: preach against modern ’ Thusists, and as how. ) it was impossible for any one to understand the Bible, | unless he had been brought up an Oxford schollard, bat I did not know that text in those days: ‘‘ I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and: earth, that thou } | — 84 _ DIALOGUE XXVI. hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, a7 hast revealed them unto babes !” Wor. Why xeally Mr. Reader’s remark was a veugl excellent one, spiritual truths, can only be “‘spirttually discerned:” the Bible is a most delightful and sur- prising book to those who are under the illuminati grace of the gospel. “t Hen. Oh Sir! the old gentleman has told me that he could scarcely attend to the younger class of his” scholars, through perpetual surprise, how he could be - so ignorant with that book of knowledge in his hands, But before Mr. Fribble came, I read him the twenty- third psalm, for I knew he wanted something short and. sweet; and how he was delighted with that pas- sage, «“ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art wi me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me!” Though he seemed for a time quite revived, while he was” mentioning that you Sir, (To Mr. Lovegood,] should be requested to visit Locksbury, yet after that as he seemed quite languid, [ proposed that we should” have a few words of prayer, and begged Mr. Reader would perform that office, at the request of his dying son-in-law ; and it could scarcely be called prayey after all. Loveg. No wonder at his hesitation on that oc casion. Hen. O Sir, how the good old man stammered andl wept while he prayed ! and I remarked that almost every word he made use of, was from his recollection of some Scripture expression; and his feelings were so strong, that he could scarcely utter those words, which he adopted and converted into the language of prayer, ‘‘ Father I will that they whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they may be- hold my glory.” And after the prayer was ended, I was astonished to hear how well Mr. Chipman recol- lected that passage also: “ We all, with open face, beholding as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. $5 even as by the Spirit of the Lord ;” and with what an ecstacy of joy he quoted them. Just then Mr. Frib- ble came in, saying, that though he was willing to perform his duty according to Mr. Chipman’s request, and therefore came directly as he was called; yet as he was engaged with a young gentleman, to whom he was giving some lessons on the violin ; and that as _ he had left him rather abruptly, he was in a hurry to return. Mr. Chipman said, that he did not send for him for his prayers ; but as a dying man, to request _ him, that the Minister who had done so much good to his once beloved, but now unhappy wife, might have the use of his pulpit to preach his funeral sermon: as it was acknowledged by all, that their own parish was notoriously wicked. Loveg. Did he acquiesce ? Hen. Directly Sir, without the least hesitation, for _ he hates preaching as much as you love it: and again, he is under obligations to Mr. Reader, for he used to make almost all his sermons for him: though he now begins to complain of them, as being written in tou strict a style for his congregation. Loveg. Why Mr. Reader, in one of his letters, honestly told me, that he was in the habit of composing, and transcribing sermons for many of the clergy about those parts; and as the price of them was seven shillings each, it generally produced him an income of between twenty or thirty pounds a year; for though Dr. Trusler’s loose copper-plate sermons were con- siderably cheaper, yet Mr. Reader’s were much less likely to be detected ;* he wrote to me therefore, to * An egregious blunder of this sort happened once, even in the famous University of Cambridge, at what is commonly called the Round Church : the Doctor has a notable sermon on these words, ‘‘ See that ye fall not out by the way.” - And so it fell out that it was preached by different ministers three Sundays running. The clerk on the fourth Sunday ad- monished the preacher not to give them a fourth edition of “ See that ye fall not out by the way,” for that the parish was very peaceable. The reply was, that he had no other in his pocket, so that the people must have that or none. The VOL. Il. I 86 DIALOGUE XXVI. know how far I judged it to be a lawful occupations: and without the least hesitation, 1 told him by means to continue it ; only to write consistently wi the plan of the gospel ; as not only the clergy them- selves, but many of their hearers, might thereby hear those truths, which they probably might not meet with, should ue discontinue his occupation— ra Wor. (Interrupts) of sermon-maker-general, (1 . pare we may Call it,) to the /earned clergy in those parts. But what a strange jumble this must make among them all, if they still continue their old ser- mons, and the sermons Mr. Reader will compose, since his mind has been so. much better instructed in the knowledge of his Bible. ; Far. To my mind, the parsons in the pu!pits will be like the weatlercoeks on the steeples, Sunday after Sunday, and the people won’t know which way the wind is to blow next. But I am afraid, at this rate, Mr. Reader will soon loose his custom. Hen. Why father, I believe he has lost some of his custom already; but after all this, I thought Mr. Lovegood’s preaching at Locksbury, would have been quite “knocked aside. Wor. Howso Mr. Henry ? Hen. Why Sir, Mr. Fribble continued to ask Mr. Chipman, ‘if he wished him to say prayers to him ?” To which I replied, ‘‘ Through the divine blessing, we have been at. prayers already ; and I had the im- pudence to say, that as he was at present engaged in teaching a young gentleman to fiddle, he would be much disappointed if we detained him to say his prayers. And when Mr. Chipman said, “ That to hear another say prayers was no object to him, since his poor vile heart had been taught “‘to pray with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit.” But alas! this language was quite out of the depth of Mr: => reader would not dispute the probability of this anecdote, if he knew after what sort of a fashion the churches, in and about the neighbourhood of the Universities, are unfortunately served. HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 87 Fribble’s knowledge; and he immediately said, tnat he perceived Mr. Chipman’s mind quite rambled, for that he had never heard of such a distinction before, between praying and saying of prayers; but that if his mind was better on the morrow, and if he then wished to see him, he would call, and say prayers to him with all his heart. Loveg. What a terrible calamity when such paltry things are entrusted with the care of immortal souls! Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.] I hope Sir, you will esteem this a call in Providence, to pay a visit to Locksbury ; though for ourselves, we shall be sorry for your absence. Loveg. If { could get my church well served during my absence, as this seems a providential call, I should esteem it my duty to obey; but I shall be able to de- termine better after I have heard the conclusion of Mr. Henry’s story. Hen. Why Sir, soon after this visit we went home to attend on the school, for I was quite Mr. Reader’s usher, and in the evening, about six o’clock, we were sent for in great haste, with the information that Mr. Chipman was dying. We immediately both went, and found him fainting away in the agonies of death. He seemed at first to take but little notice of us, as his eyes were in a measure fixed, but we could hear him distinctly say, “‘ Lord, let me now depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation !” then added several times, ‘‘ Precious salvation, precious salva- tion! O! precious salvation.” And then, [to Farmer Littleworth] father, you know how I told you he took hold of my hand, and uttered these words, “ Our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding-and eternal weight of glory.” And how much affected Mr. Reader was, after he saw that he wasdead. - Wor. Well well; the race was but short, though the result was glorious. But how must we break these matters to the poor widow? Though I hope she will feel the less concerning her husband’s death, 88 DIALOGUE XXVi. as she has for some time given up all hopes of his” recovery. Loveg. Indeed Sir, I still fear she will feel exces- sively, as it was evidently through her misconduct that her husband was brought to the grave. Wor. As Mrs. Chipman must be informed of the event, I know not what we can do better, than that you, Mr. Lovegood, and Mr. Henry Littleworth, should call upon her, and attempt to soften matters, by telling her the happy state of Mr. Chipman’s mind, previous to his death. Loveg. I know of no other plan that can be adopted. But I will write her a few lines this evening, preparing her mind for the result, and to-morrow morning Mr. Henry will call upon her, though I really fear what will be the consequence, from the present state of her mind. Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.] I have a great incli- nation to desire my eldest daughter to attend you; if she should join hands with Mr. Merryman, she will be frequently called on for such visits. Loveg. Sir, this would be a desirable event, not only as Miss Worthy is so truly serious ; but as it will © be a sort of evidence, how much you pity and feel for the poor afflicted widow. [Thus matters were settled—The parties met ac- curdingly, but from the distant hint dropt in Mr. Lovegood’s note, the first salutation was, “Oh! he is dead, he is dead! I am sure he is dead! while she cried and sobbed inexpressibly ; exclaiming against herself as the vilest of prostitutes, and as haying mur- dered the best of husbands. Every attempt to soften her grief from the narration of the blessed effects, produced both on her husband and her father, though through her misconduct, was of no avail. Her nights were sleepless, and her days were spent in distracted grief, till a total derangement took place.—Under that disease she was racked with the idea that Sir Charles Dash was coming again, to demand her as _ his HAPPY DEATH OF CHIPMAN. 89 “prostitute ; while with screams and execrations, she would mention her utter abhorrence of the man.— Then she would suppose that she was forced by a thousand infernal spirits to go, that she might be tormented with the damned, together with that mon- ster of iniquity. Then her distracted mind would depict before her, the spectre of her reverend and aged father, beholding ber with the frown of indig- nant detestation and abhorrence, as being the most unnatural monster that ever existed.— Then the poor child was next on her imagination: she was sure he was starved to death; crying out against herself, that she was worse than a tiger, for tigers loved their young.—As to her husband, his murdered, emaciated apparition continually haunted her ; and she fancieé that all the people at Locksbury hissed at her, and cursed her whenever they saw her. In this deranged state, she would make such speeches to these different characters, as were truly | surprising, though highly romantic: sometimes she would speak profanely ; but ia general, piously and penitently in a high degree. In this state of mind Mrs. Chipman continued for six weeks, when afterwards, through divine mercy, being restored, she appeared like that object of our Lord’s mercy, out of which the legion of devils were cast, “Sitting at Jesus’s feet, clothed, and in his right mind.” From this circumstance, the reader will naturally conclude, that as yet he cannot hear the termina- _ tion of her history, which in due time will be brought forward. During that interval, a continuation of the narra- tion, as it respects the Lovelys, together: with some other events, interwoven with the subject, will, I trust, not be unacceptable to the reader. DIALOGUE XXVIL THE LOVELYS, THE WORTHYS, MR. LOVEGOOD, AND MR. CONSIDERATE, =i ON THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION, AND ON DR. OR DERLY’S SENTIMENTS ON THAT POINT. AFTER the Lovelys had continued above a week at Mr. Merryman’s, they returned to Brookfield- — Hall, and were again received with the accustomed hospitality of the house. Itis with some regret, that for the sake of brevity, the conversation of Mr. Mer- ryman, Dr. Orderly, and the Lovelys, while at San- dover, must be omitted ; though from a certain con- geniality of mind subsisting between Mr. Lovely and Mr. Merryman, it might have proved entertain- ing and good. ‘The substance however, of what then passed, will be found in the conversation which took place at, Brookfield-Hall, on the return of the Lovelys from Sandover. _ On the next evening they retired to the menagery for their tea, where a variety of the feathered tribe came around them, giving a sweet resemblance of the fearless state of creation, before the human race themselves, with other creatures, became ferocious by the fall. Mr. Lovegood, and the family of the Considerates, from Mapleton, were also of the party. Wor. [To Mr. Lovely.] I am very happy Sir, to see Mrs. Lovely look so much better, and that she appears so cheerful after her excursion to Sandover. Lov. Sir, it is impossible to be otherwise than happy with Mr. Merryman: he is to be sure a most pleasant and engaging creature: and he is almost adored among his neighbours, though he tells us, he IS MR. LCVELY AND THE FAMILY OF THE CONSIDER ATES, Ke AT TEA IN THE AVIARY. MM “4 / ‘c Oe <= = Doors @ }) Hh o) A a SM 3s oft G S Que Oe WO Ose oN. ©) Se ANE a i OD VOD Oo ~~ [™ G) SS <= ‘Wocrl o , KIN NS Mite OF on 6) Ne S z > On the next evening they retired to the aviary for their tea, where : a variety of the feathered tribe came around them, giving a sweet 2 resemblance of the fearless state of creation, before the human race themselves, with other creatures, became ferocions by the fall. DYE een MEI ue D2 Be ee Oo : C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. ~ ee DPR. CRDERLY ON JUSTIFICATION. 9% . was very dissipated, [to Mr. Lovegood] till after he was reformed by your preaching Sir. Loveg. Oh Sir! had it been merely by my preach ing, others who heard the same, might have been reformed as well as Mr. Merryman; but a work of that sort could never have been accomplished, had even ‘“ Paul planted, and Apollos watered, unless God had given the increase.” Lov. Yes Sir, but I suppose there must have been within him some of the native powers of inherent virtue, which were in a measure buried by depraved habits, and bad examples, and which were afterwards excited in him by your zealous preaching ; whereby through the grace of God, in conjunction with his good resolutions, he was enabled to reform. Loveg. Surely Sir, you have not imported these ~ strange, dark, mixed notions of human goodness and Divine Grace trom Sandover ? Lov. Oh no Sir, but Mr. Merryman, (and I greatly admire his liberal and candid disposition,) when £ told him that [ and my wife should like to have an interview with Dr. Orderly, gave us a letter of recom- mendation to him : and I can assure you Sir, we met with very different treatment at the Doctor's, from what I received from Mr. Dolittle. Loveg. O Sir, the Doctor is a most excellent cha- racter; there are few like him in the present day. It seems some years ago, there were many others of the same family scattered up and down the country, but there kas been a sad mortality among them ; and the present generation is very thin. Wor. Were not Mr. Regular, and Mr. Decent, and old Dr. Decorum of the same family ? Lov. Yes Sir, I have heard the Doctor mention the names of those divines ; but he says that too many of the present generation who have succeeded them, though they are very anxious to keep up the family names, are but a spurious breed, and not worthy to be compared to the former. Now Sir, I hopé you cannot be surprised tiat I should be influenced by the 92 DIALUGUE XXVIf. religion of so good a man; I think you are going too far one way, and I was going too much the other: and the good Doctor has told me of a middle way, and I seem to like that best. Wor. Ah Sir! I travelled that middle way once, till T found it no way at all. In short, when I was in it I was bewildered as in a labyrinth, and I thought I should never have got out of it. Lov. Really Sir, I think the Doctor intermixed faith and works together in a very judicious manner. - _Loveg. I am afraid while the Doctor was making up his mixture, he sadly contradicted the language of St. Paul: ‘If by grace, then itis no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace: but if it be of works, then it is ne more grace ; otherwise work is no more work.” So that it should appear, as though the Apostle was not quite so fond of mixtures as the Doctor. Lov. But Sir, before you find fault with the Doctor’s notions, give me leave to state them to the best of my recollection. Now I remember he said, that God had made two covenants with man, the co- venant of works and the covenant of grace; that’ man by the fall broke the covenant of works; that — afterwards God entered into another covenant with man, called the covenant of grace: now [I think Sir, as far as this, the Doctor agrees with you and Mr. Merryman. Loveg. Not altogether Sir, if the Doctor supposes God entered into covenant with man in his fallen state. . It never can be admitted, that God, the eter- nal Suvereign, could enter into such a covenant with a set of rebels, The covenant was not made between God and fallen man, but between God the Father, and God the Son, even the man Christ Jesus, who became the substitute for our sinful race; or, to give it you directly in Bible language, he became “ the Surety of a better testament,” or, the ‘‘ Mediator of a better covenant, established upon better promises.” Thus “he suffered the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.” ~ DR. ORDERLY ON JUSTIFICATION. 93 Lov. But: Sir, were there not certain terms and conditions required of man, whereby he might qgua- fe himself for the merits of our Savior! And— Lovegood interrupts. ] Loveg. Before you proceed any further, I beg to ask, which will require most, to qualify ourselves for heaven, or for Christ ? Lov. Really Sir, this is a new question to me ; 1 wish you to explain yourself. Loveg. Which is of greater importance, the man who builds the house, or the house itself? I suppose you immediately answer, the man who builds the house. If so, without qualifying ourselves for the merits of Christ, we can as well at once, qualify our- selves for heaven itself, and this will put Christ and his great salvation completely out of the question; for if we can merit the greater, we can certainly merit the less. Lov. But Sir, the worthy Doctor as much dis- claims the term merit, as you yourself; he gave me one of his sermens to read, which he composed on purpose, against the merit of works. Mr. Consid. I have no doubt but what the worthy Doctor’s mind would rise with indignation and dis- gustagainst such anidea. All that we do before God can never be made suitable to that term. What merit can there be in repentance, which is nothing but an acknowledgment that we are vile, and whereby we confess that we deserve nothing at the hand of God but death. And as to prayer, that only proves we ought to esteem ourselves nothing but beggars, from our very birth. And what is our love to God, but love to a Being who infinitely deserves our love. And as to love to our fellow creatures, a man is little better than an unnatural monster, who is found without it. Loveg. Yes Sir, and I am persuaded the worthy Doctor has too much humility and goodness to admit the conclusion, which must necessarily be drawn from his mistaken notions of conditional justification. But if on certain terms and conditions I perform the task 94 DIALOGUE XXVII. proposed, for the sake of a reward, however low those terms may be, I then can claim what the promiser has no longer a right to deny. And this brings matters. as near to the point of merit, as one point can be brought to another ; and while the Doctor has too much decided humility, to admit the conclusion of his own doctrine, — yet thousands and tens of thousands, by the same doc- trine, have fallen into the like snare, and the merit of righteousness is the common claim of all, even very frequently of the most unrighteous, throughout all the world. Lov. I wish the Doctor were here to answer for himself. Wor. + wish he were; for we all respect him very highly. Consid. I am sure I do,—though 1 never saw him but once or twice, as he passed by our house in Mapleton ; yet he wrote me such a kind and tender letter on behalf of a poor woman who was a parish- ioner with us, requesting me that I would interest myself with the corporation, to put her into one of our alms houses; and after [had succeeded, the poor woman told me what a many shillings and half-crowns © the Doctor had given her, so that I have loved him ever since. Lov. Then allow me to plead a little further for the Doctor’s religion, since you all acknowledge he is so gooda man. He does not say that we can merit heaven, as I have before observed: but that faith and repentance, are only the mild and moderate terms required by the new law of the Gospel, whereby we, through grace, avail ourselves of the merits of Christ, Rponided we properly perform them. Loveg. I believe Sir, you will discover that the mixture you are now attempting will be found equally as difficult, as a mixture between oiland water. For I beg leave to ask first, can the Bible give us the character of a more exalted Christian, than what is comprehended in that of a penitent believer? Is not this the character of the real penitent, that he hates DR. ORDERLY GN JUSTIFICATION. 95 all sin, and renounces it?) And who is the believer? Why one who has Christ dwelling in his heart by faith, who lives in holy friendship with God, through the redemption that is in Him, and consequently pants to be dedicated to his glory. Then is a man, who thus repents and believes, a good man, and in a state of salvation, or a bad man, and in a state of condemnation ? Lov. O Sir! penitent believers are certainly in 2 state of salvation. Loveg. Then how can faith and repentance be the conditions of our salvation, when all that have these graces are saved already? Lov. Is it not possible for a person to have these graces, in order to his salvation? Loveg. Sir, it is utterly impossible, unless you turn all things up-side down; and unless you can make the effect produce the cause. Now these graces are the effect of our salvation, they cannot therefore be the cause of it; any more than motion, which is the effect of life, can be said to be the cause why we live or move: and so Bishop Beveridge settles the matter : “ How can I do good works in order to my justifica- tion, when I can do no good works till after I am justified ?* To make out all these strange contradic- tory suppositions, we must conclude that a man must have grace and yet no grace; and that he must be a believer and an unbeliever at the same time. “ For he that believeth hath everlasting life. While he alone that believeth. not, zs condemned already, and the wrath of God abideth on him.” Suppose a physician should say, ‘ 5 ae ; ot bie i4ts ee Dee eget bad biel My bie rdsones we Loh 26088) Sealy ae Libs: 7 DY aa co) Slip heaaeaie 4 Wat 1 Woy eco togi mae aa aay ie yg Core potter Tito iid A itn dled ieee ert f noir Tew eet de MH od lead ney brodute en loa Googe Tha ae (iy ib te wD tad col prot uc! 68 howe am@tiaackd aim te $b f Sam ow @) See ea vO 6 yatelt ¥ ie pty od ot bealetw tte dw bes el tame pire bei on wiwode ved) fonatansead aimee af iynd wo he? Rige Doren ues hae alt Jiu oF soul gard sorties oe abe aed a i ol oT dt sridaet hei teal iWin li culos hoyg mov Jedd emp er ae eto bose wv vidio tdt Teewodent ioe) aaa Pe ie 7 #i eso. MO te Soni ale edt ole 12 0) beptldo seve oul goibl blimdw i aieeae ; J lsvlen benb dos de deeded al nOnTB 000406 ‘Gadd? Hootie £299 a (tari d bY CET oul af Glaeanre tw nig sha Ratu la teod), sah hao nicked dee dis} rag my v¢dax det getline peecdee willie Jat Teer ot a J wo) , Rd * : tp A Mey Lip ‘is, emis A ae NA Lia ae Sy he DIALOGUE XXVIII, MR. WORTHY AND MR. FREE, A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY OF THE LOVELYS. =< CONTAINING THE CHARACTER OF ALDERMAN GREEDY, OF GREDITON. ‘PP HE Lovelys were in the habit of making excur- sions about that neighbourhood, that they might entertain themselves with the scenery of the country. One morning they went to see a beantiful romantic water-fall, which being at some distance, occupied them the whole of the day. A gentleman of an easy and liberal mind, whose name is Free, an old friend of the family of the Lovelys, had lately come into that neighbourhood. He accidentally hearing that young Mr. Lovely was recently married, and that he was hospitably enter- tained at Mr. Worthys, came over to see him; but unfortunately, on the very day on which he went to see the waterfall. 'The reader however, by this event, will gain more information respecting the family of the Greedys, especially of the great uncle, than other- wise might have been the case. Mr. Worthy therefore with his usual hospitality, insisted that Mr. Free should be detained that day at Brookfield-Hall, that he might not be disappointed of his errand. Mr. Free having been thus hospitably invited to the house, after some introductory conver - sation, the following dialogue took place. —<— Wor. Have you long known the family of the Love- lys Sir ? | =| 114 DIALOGUE XXVIII. ; Free. Sir, Mr. Lovely’s father and I were school- fellows, and we have been in the habits of intimacy — ever since: we were also near neighbours, till about — five years ago. § | Wor. Then I suppose you lived somewhere near — Grediton ? ¥ Free. Yes Sir, much too near for the good of my” health. The air of that place never agreed with my — constitution. Our house ‘was situated about half-— way between Grediton and Fairfield, the abode of 4 Mr. Lovely. ‘ InTHOS Wor. I should suppose, from what young Mr. Lovely says of his father, that he is a person of a very — respectable character. Free. Very much so indeed Sir, thevgh:tte married — into a shocking family. Wor. Yes, by his account the family of the Greedys are asad set; his uncle has used him most cruelly on account of his marriage. Free. Indeed Sir, the conduct of iit uncle in ren 7 business was not less treacherous and unjust, than the behavior of Mr. George Lovely was generous and fair. He quite takes after his father. He is of a excellent disposition. Wor. Lam quite charmed with hike) he’ " ie an honorable youth. But it seems his uncle is determin- — ed to cut him off from every penny, on account of his marriage, though he is his heir at law. iW O10) 99M Free. So he gives it out. But I should not won- der, when his rage is abated, though he is of a very — revengeful and_malicious turn of mind, if he a him every farthing. I know all the family rae are a strange set. Wor. I am afraid his mother is quite a Greedy, though he says nothing to us about her.- ; Free. Indeed Sir, she is entirely one of the family; she is always aiming at that which is covetous and — mean, while her hushandas is just the reverse. 4 Wor. Itis bad work when the disposition of the — husband and wife are so contrary to each other: but ‘ ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER. 115 he talks of a very rich, old great uncle, a lawyer, and one of the aldermen of Grediton, who approves of the match as highly as the other uncle opposes it. Though I do not like to ask the young people any questions about their rich relations, as it always brings some painful reflections to their mind ; yet. Mrs. Lovely has mentioned several things to Mrs. Worthy, respecting his astonishing covetousness.. From what we can gather, he must be one of the most remarkable misers that ever existed. Free. I should suppose, if you could search the kingdom over, you would not find his equal: and he is not less wicked than mean. Wor. I should suppose his character as a miser, is - almost as complete as it canbe. While the prodi- _ gal in the Gospel, like him spends all m mad and _ riotous living, till he becomes a mere pensioner upon _ the hogs; this miser itseems, though he feeds on the | imaginary idea of his wealth, sustains the real evils of one in abject poverty. Free. Asa lawyer, nobody knows better how to turn the pockets of others inside out, that he may fill his own. Wor. The profession of the law turns! in “well for _ these, who can get.rid of conscience and principle, in _ their profession. Free. Sir, from his childhood he was educated in all .its subterfuges and chicanery; the practice of which, for some years, proved considerably to his ad- vantage: but as he made it a point to stick at nothing, provided that he couid serve himself, rather than his client, he had but little business after a while, ni | among those of his own sort. Wor. In this respect, it.seems he was rather too reguish for his own interest. _. Free, Rather so; but then he procured fer sithiaeht | some excellent pickings through life, by being agent | for tke corporation to which be belonged. _. Wor. I am told he is immensely -rich.—Had lic panes to begin with ? 1 | . = | | 116 DIALOGUE XXVIII Free. His private fortune, as one of the younger — branches of a wealthy family, wasno more than three — thousand pounds, and from this comparatively small sum, either by his hoardings as a miser, or by his get-_ tings as a lawyer, he is now supposed to be worth fifty times that sum. Wor. It seems he was never married. Free. Report says, he never thought of marrying but once, and that was toa rich widow, who was nearly as frugal as himself. The marriage articles were accordingly drawn out by himself: but when he came to lecture her on his methods of ceconomy, and especially that he could never allow but one sheet te the bed, as lying upon the blankets is the most whole- some, she begged to be off. Upon this he threatened to prosecute her for a breach of contract, and thereby picked her pocket of two hundred pounds. . Wor. What a strange trick! But all this was no great sum to begin with, if what Mr. George Lovely says be true, that he is now worth upwards of five thousand pounds a year. Free. Sir, I don’t doubt it. Hoarding and saving are all his delight. Heis an excellent arithmetician ; and this talent he always exercises in the old proverb, “A penny saved isa penny got.” He was so well acquainted with the consequences of simple interest and compound interest, that report says, it was he who recommended that plan to the late prime minister, to pay off the national debt; and as on that occasion, he feigned himself a man of property, he got a good slice of the secret service money for his advice, ano- ther addition to his useless hoard. 9c Wor. As to his personal expences, it seems he # stingy beyond any thing. Free. Sir, report says, he wore the same snit: of clothes, of a dark grey mixture, for full fourteen years; and which most people remembered from childhood: so that he was known by the name of the grey alderman. And as he was under the necessity of appearing decent, that he might pick up a few of eee 8 cS ALDERMAN GREEDY S CHARACTER. 117 those precious things called guineas, which he was in the habit of receiving, upon being consulted for his advice ; and when he appeared abroad upon his business, it is said, that to keep his best suit in a state of proper preservation, he adhered strictly to the following rules.—First, he never wore them but as he was professionally consulted; and then if at home, when any came for his advice, he would slip off his morning gown, and put on his coat and waist- coat, and next cover his old patched tattered small- _ clothes with a silk handkerchief, which was always at hand for that purpose. Secondly. As soon as he had given his advice, these clothes were immediately slipt off, and returned to the chest, that they might be preserved from dust, wind, and weather, till wanted again. Thirdly. Whenever he was called abroad, and when seated in an elbow chair in these ‘clothes, he would always sit like a trusted turkey, with his arms close to his body, that he might not damage the el- bows by any wasteful rubs; the same care he also took not to lean back, but sat as upright as a dart, that the shoulder bones might not have the same effect on the back of his coat. Wor. Whatan astonishing instance of frugality and care! ree. Yes Sir; and his old morning gown was an- _ other piece of curious antiquity, the real age of which could never be correctly ascertained. It was originally fabricated outof some old curtains, which he bought as a bargain at a sale, and designed as hang- ings for his bed. But having discovered that these would be unwholesome, as they were likely to prevent the free circulation of the air, they were by himself, who fcr the same frugal purposes, had pretty well learnt the use of the needle, transmogrified into’this morning gown. His wig also, was another piece of valuable antiquity, which had been in existence up- wards of nine years, and which gave him a very re- spectable and alderman-like appearance. ‘This also 118 DIALOGUE XXVIII. was worn with the same frugality and economy, and . when done with, returned into its band-box with re- markable care, when its place would be supplied by an old Welsh wig, which he luckily procured for a bad debt, together with some sheets and blankets, which he claimed in lieu of fees, from the executors! of an old man, who died a few pounds in his debt, leaving his grand-daughter behind him to execrate such a rapacious wretch; who could thereby deprive \ her of the small gratuities she expected for her at- tendance, and not even leave her a sufficiency to carry her grandfather with decency to the grave. Wor. What a horrid wretch! And is he as frugal in his house-keeping, as he is in his clothmg? Free. Sir, he ever insists upon it, that if people | are troubled with rats or mice, it is their own fault; for that it is a sure proof they keep too good a house; that as he has never been pestered with such sort of intruders, he has always saved himself the expence of — keeping a cat; so thatif ever a rat or a mouse through — mistake, should steal into his premises, one could almost feign to oneself the idea, how they would © stand with tears in their eyes, lamenting their sad — mistake, that ever they should have found the unfor- — tunate hole into that horrid land of famine ! 5 Wor. Though none of us wish to be molested with S| such guests, yet I should be very sorry if the same — fraternity had the same cause of sorrow in peepi if into my pantry ; yet there can be no doubt, but thathis — housekeeping was all of a piece, if rats and mice were so alarmed at the sight of it. Free. He was in the habit of remarking, that hint expences for himself and an old woman, who occa- é sionally waits on him, formerly amounted to about — ninepence a day, but that of late they had been near-_ ly doubled. The common black tea he prefers, as’ being the most wholesome ; for where he can save a penny, he wonderfully studies the wholesomes ; and treacle and water, he adopts as his beverage, on the — same account ; ‘though now and then, he allows — yy | —: ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER 119 a pint of small beer, as a treat between him and his maid. Wor. It is a wonder he has not starved himself to death. Free. Sir, from the same principles he never allows the use of mustard, pepper, and scarcely any salt, as they are very expensive articles, and stimulate peo- ple’s appetites to eat more than nature requires; while the little scraps he buys at the market, are pretty high scented, before they are reduced tothe price he chooses to give. Sometimes he will even indulge himself with a little poultry, provided it has been rendered cheap through an untimely death. Wor. I never heard of such a filthy old hog in all my life. Free. But Sir, this strange old economist after all, while he is thus frugal at his own table, can be vora- cious enough, when he enjoys his repast at the tables of others; and though he always says, itis a sure sign a man is a toper when he can uncork the bottle for his own indulgence; yet at the table of others, the pop of an uncorking bottle, is not less pleasant to his ears, than the taste of the wine is grateful to his palate. Wor. Such curious instances of astonishing fruga- lity and meanness, I think I never heard of before. Free. Sir, I can give you other instances of the same sort: whenever he attends any of the corpora- tion feasts, made at the public expence, they say, he will not only half starve himself the day before, that he may then satisfy his voracious appetite with as much as ever it will dispense with; but after dinner, if he sees any thing that is moveable, such as biscuits, oranges, apples, almonds and raisins, dried sweet- meats, and other such rarities, these will find their way into his pocket in considerable abundance. Wor. I wonder he is not ashamed of himself. - Free. Shame Sir! why there is no shame in him.— For though the town is filled with misers, yet he is so much worse than the worst of them, that he is the | 120 DIALOGUE XXVIII. i butt of general ridicule and contempt among them all, On one of these occasions, an artful wag, contrived to cut a hole in his pocket, whereby his intended hoard was found scattered about the room as fast as he could pocket it. At another time, he was treated with the intermixture of a nearly tasteless powder of a certain root, that acts as a powerful cathartic, which they say, had a very rapid effect after a most plentiful repast. Really Sir, I am almost ashamed to tell you” these strange stories, but that you may understand how he would submit to any thing, sooner than forego — the advantages resulting from his covetous pranks. _ Wor. Was ever such a creature heard of before? He surely never could find it in his heart to ask a_ friend to partake of a meal with him: if he begrudg-— ed himself, he certainly begrudged his friends. But in his line, how could he avoid all acts of apparent hospitalities of this sort ? . ' Free. Now and then he was under the painful ne-— cessity of inviting a person to his table, and giving them a dinner, but never unless under the expectation — of securing their custom, or for some other lucrative motive ; and then he and ‘his old servant would live upon the scraps that were left till quite musty. On one of these occasions, he treated his guest with a roasting pig, which unfortunately lost its life by being over- laid by the sow, and which was notdiscovered till above a day after its death.—And then it proved such a savory repast to his guest, that it made him so very — ill, that he thought it necessary to employ Mr. Greedy to alter his will, lest he should die; whereby he not only procured a couple of guineas for himself, but another guinea for a physician, who was nearly as” covetous as himself, that he might obtain a proper recipe to dislodge the portion of the afore-said pig, which had made him so ill. ss However on the next market day, as report says, — Mr. Greedy had the misfortune to be well paid off in return; for having agreed on the purchase of the — dead pig for a shilling, the woman who sold it called | | ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER. 12. after him, while he was seeking for his cheap bar- gains, as an old rascal, for that he had put her off with a bad shilling for her carrion pig, on the last market day, and demanded a good one in return.—This he refused ; upon which the woman becoming clamorous, the rest of the market women joined in the uproar. They next helped her to seize him; and immediately they all surrounded him, treating him with a variety of such language as they are accustomed to use on the like occasions, threatening to drag him directly to justice, if he did not exchange the bad shilling for a good one; while he sadly against his will, that he might get out of the hobble, submitted to their demand. Thus he procured his escape, though he had still to run the gauntlet through the market, each calling after him; while one asked him what he would give, the next market day, for a half-rotten turkey ; ano- ther offered him an old gander that had been killed by a fox; and a third presented him with the cheap offer of some stinking fish. It is notto be wondered that this treatment kept him out of the market for above a twelvemonth afterwards ; nor could he dare, ever after that time, to appear but quite at the fag- end of the day, when he might avail himself of the bargains, without running the risk of such another rencontre. Wor. Well, in all my life [ never heard of such a creature. No wonder, that whenever his name is mentioned, Mr. Lovely is silent, and shakes his head. But the old woman in the market treated him just as he deserved. Free. Sir, I can recollect afew more anecdotes, out of a vast abundance, which might be produced, con- cerning this most contemptible miser. He is so co- vetous, that he scarcely ever can afford to buy a piece of soap for the purpose of washing himself, Wor. A nasty old fellow! one would think he would be poisoned by his own filthiness. Free. Really Sir, notwithstanding this, when you see him out of doors, he, in general, looks clean and VOL. II. M 192 DIALOGUE XXVIII. : wholesome. But he will boast how he keeps his skin clean, by merely rubbing himself with a coarse dry cloth, which he observes, not only has the salubrious effects of a flesh brush, but saves him the expence of soap. In his way it should appear, as though he was no bad physician, but all his knowledge in that line runs one way; he has discovered, greatly to his satisfaction, that the half-starved poor, on the average, actually live longer than the rich, who are over-fed with luxuries; so-that he seems now quite delighted with living a half-starved life, that he may live the longer, to make a larger purse. Wor. Was it possible that he could go beyond all” this? : Free. Sir, he is the same man throughout. Once he had nearly suffered the penalty of fifty pounds, for making, with the assistance of his maid, his own tallow candles; not only that he might evade the duty on his own account, but that he might also make an” advantageous swap of a part of his stock, for his black tea and brown sugar, at a poor little neighbouring” chandler’s shop. ‘ Wor. Had the penalty been levied, I should sup- pose that the loss of the money might have broken his heart. Butif he was the manufacturer of his own candles, I suppose he could afford himself a little | light? Free. Sir, I have been told, though he makes his own candles, yet he uses them very sparingly; for in the first instance, he never burns but one at a time, as | he has discovered that a strong light is prejudicial to his eyes; and also that itis asin to burn out day light. His employment therefore, during twilight, they say, is to knit his own stockings, which from the same frugal motives, he has learnt’to accomplish in a most dexterous manner. Wor. Have you any more stories to tell of this curious muck-werm ? Free. Oh Sir! there is sucha variety of them, that they would almost fill a little volume. At one time he ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER. 123 had nearly lost his life by suffocation, from thefnmes of brimstone, having commenced the manufacturer of his own matches, under a discovery, that he could make many more for afarthing, than he could purchase for a halfpenny ; and at another time his life was in great danger, from his having been shot at, under a supposition that one moonshiny night he was robbing a rabbit-warren, when the fact was, that he was only engaged in picking up the excrements of the sheep, and other cattle, that he might enrich his own garder by depriving a neighbourin ; common of its manure. Such are some of the contrivances of: this miserable creature, that he may have plenty of ready money, for purposes not less villainous, than they are mean. Wor. It seldom happens, but where a deal of co- vetousness exists, cruelty and villany are sure to be connected with it. Free. 1 am sure it is the case with that crafty old harpy, for every thing he does, is with an eye to his own interest. It is looked upon as a remarkable instance of extravagance, at least in him, to give sixpence a week toa public news-room: but it is with a design that he may learn from the different advertisements, what is to be sold by the thoughtless, and necessitous of every description. And from this principle, he is become a considerable land-jobber, whereby he has made several advantageous purchases of different estates. Some he sells again, others he has in own possession. Wor. What a long-headed fellow he must be—and what a character he must have among all who know him! Free. He cares nothing about character’; for he will oftentimes tell of his covetous pranks, for the diversion of others, in a measure of the same stamp with him- self. 1 remember one of them was, that hearing, by ‘he papers, that an estate was to be sold not far from Grediton, and that London was to be the place of sale; he first contrived to get himself subpoenaed to attend a trial, at an assize in the town, through which 194 DIALOGUE XXVIII, g 6 he must necessarily pass. As his departure from f home, being a professional man, might prove a con- siderable loss to him, the charge he made was so high, a that it completely paid his stage coach expences, — during a journey of near four hundred miles, before — he accomplished his return. He not oniy lived at ; free cost while he was upon the business of the trial, — but when there, pocketed sufficient prog to take him to _ London. On his arrival there, he entered the auction- — room as early as he could; and this being plentifully — provided with biscuits, wine, and other good com- modities of the same sort, being sharp set, after his long journey, he first made a most plentiful meal, and next loaded his pockets with a quantity, sufficient to — furnish him with provisions for his return, that he might not be at the expence of eating at an inn. — The whole of his travelling expences amounting but — to fifteen pence, for a little gin and water, or small beer, after so long a journey, and after having pur- — chased an estate amounting to full three hundred pounds a year. Wor. Sir, if I had the least reason to doubt your veracity, [ should at once say it is impossible. But 7 when covetousness is thus reduced to a system, al- _most any thing may be credited, that the wretched system may be abided by. Tam afraid he was a hor- ridly extortionate landlord. Free. Why Sir, after all, (for I know a deal of the — family,) this wretched cormorant, who never got fat % by all he devoured, does not over-rate his tenants ; but this is all from the same principle, that they may not beggar his estates; for though he is moderate in — his demand of rent, yet he can make such immoderate — demands of improvements as it respects the planta-— tion of timber trees, clearing of wastes, and keeping the lands in a proper condition, that it is supposed, ~ that no one’s estates are in better trim than his. Wor. So far as that goes, if he is fair and moderate — in regard to rent, what serves the landlord, serves — the tenant, and I find all my tenants, as they are used | 1 ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER. 1295 well, pay well. That mercenary landlord who op- presses his tenants, is generally served as he deserves —they beggar his land, and break in his debt. Free. Ah Sir! without flattery, your name as a landlord, will live along time after you are dead. As far as this however, old alderman Greedy follows your example. But if any of them are in arrears, or should perchance, through misfortune fail in his debt, he directly attacks them, as the most oppressive vul- ture that ever lived. The cry of the widow and the orphan, never reaches his callous heart; the accom- plishment of their ruin is sure to take place, sooner than he will miss by lenity, what he can extort by law. Wor. Why of the two, one should rather suppose, he is a greater monster of iniquity than the posses- sor of the family estate at Grediton Hall. - Free. Sir, in point of principle, the one is as bad as the other: but in regard to mere covetousness, so _ far as it relates to the art of saving, the old alderman far exceeds him. As to usury, itis his supreme de- light, so far as he can evade the lash of the law. He is sure,to deal with the extravagant spendthrift, if he can cover himself by collateral security from the most distant danger ofa loss ; and these may depend upon paying most severely for their folly.— A sinking trades- man, is also sure to get money from him, provided he ean procure a bond in judgment for himself; for it ix no matter with him who is cheated, provided he is benefitted. Wor. A bond in judgment! yes, those rascally in- _ struments of legal process, might do well enough for him, while they entirely sweep away the property of other creditors, who may have an equal claim. But can aman of character or conscience, for a moment, bear to possess such villanous instruments of law ? Free. No matter for all this, or ten times worse. | . . . . _ These miserable characters would strike his rapacious eye with infernal delight: like a complete vulture, as “sure as he could seize them j, his talons, he would 126 DIALOGUE XXVIII. hold them fast, till they became entirely subject to his imercy,—a grain of which he never possessed. Wor. What horrid mischief the love of money does to the human mind! ; free. Why Sir, the mind of lawyer Greedy, is scarcely human. Cruel as the spider when the help- less fly is entangled in his web, which he is sure neve to leave till he finishes his existence by sucking his blood ; so this unfeeling fiend in human shape, who cares for no one but himself, when he has these un- wary suiferers safely toiled in those cruel instruments of law, tortures them at his pleasure; and while there is any blood in them, being as crafty as he i cruel, he is sure to find it out! Wor. What a monster of a man! Free. Sir, he is one who knows no interest but what centers in himself. If ever he appears generous, i is only with some feigned designs. He would he a bearable character, were he merely covetous for him- self ; but his covetousness urges him on to every thing” that is wicked and unjust, while at the same time, he is one of those long-headed, crafty-minded fellows, who scarcely ever expose themselves to the lash of the law ; but under the cover of the law, he will acta | part the most villanous, and unjust. If he had not | been as cunning as he is knavish, he would have been | hanged long ago.. But out of respect to his nephev, | 1 am ashamed to tell all I know. all Wor. I shall never wound the tender feelings this amiable youth, by giving him the most distant hint respecting the subject of our present conversa- | tion; but still I have a curiosity to hear more about him, and of his different tricks, 7 i Free. Tricks indeed! I recollect the following master-piece of his villany, which he accomplished | ahout ten years ago. Though he had scarcely any creditable business in his profession, yet he was in the | habit of being employed by some, who were as cove= tous and as mean as himself. Nothing delighted Lim more, than to make people’s wills for them, and) ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER. 127 this he was glad enough to do gratis, provided he could secure a legacy tor himself. He had ajob of this sort ia hand, for two old people that were shop- keepers in the same town: Simon Grasper and his wife. In this will he absolutely left all that he was possessed of to her, only empowering her to leave it to his nephew next, if she saw fit. For it seems the young man who once served in his shop, had given him considerable offence by retiring from the town without his consent, as it was a situation he hated, and by marrying a young woman in the West of Eng- land, with little or no fortune. F The old man died first, and this put the widow completely into old Greedy’s hands. His first attempt was to give broad hints that her nephew was in- clined to be improvident, and a spendthrift, and that trustees might be needed, and how happy he should be to perform that office, out of respect to his old friend that was now dead. She however did not chuse to take the hint, and thought old Greedy was too far advanced in life for that office, and therefore insisted that another will should be made according to her husband’s wish, leaving all her property to the nephew ; excepting a few trifling legacies, and some comfortable residuary pickings for himself, and fool- ishly suffered the old harpy, to be whole and sole ex- eentor to the will. . Wor. This was giving him an opportunity to fleece them, according to his heart's desire. Free. Yes Sir, and by all accounts he did it com- pletely, for it seems the old people had mustered to- gether in different effects, upwards of three thousand pounds, and it was always supposed that the round sum of three thousand pounds, was actually left for the poor nephew and his family: but upon the death of the old lady, which took place about a year after- wards. At was discovered on the opening of the will, £300 instead of £3000 was all that fell to the poor nephew's share, and it is the general conjecture of all, that the old scoundrel altered the word thousand 128 DIALOGUE XXVIII. into hundred: for as executor, he kept the will in his own possession, and cheated the old dame with a — false copy of the will, which as it is supposed, he took — care to destroy as soon as the breath was out of her body. : Wor. Why a less criminal action has brought ma- ny a one to the gallows. But were no efforts made to detect the fraud, and to bring him to justice ? Free. It was thought of by many, but he not only took care that there should be no evidence against — him, while reports were frequently trumped up, that both the uncle and aunt meant to cut ‘him short, be- — cause he had an inclination to be extravagant ; or in ~ other words, because he was not so covetous as them- selves. : Wor. What a vile wretch! It seems he is of a — great age. ; Free. Yes Sir; but the last time I was informed — about him, I heard he was as keen after money as ? ever, grasping after the world as eagerly as if he were | never to leave it. Wor. One would suppose that it is scarcely possible — that a single drop of the blood of the Greedys could — be found in young Mr. Lovely; he seems to be of such — a beautiful turn of mind. But he has the satisfaction” of it within himself. As to such wretched creatures as the Alderman, it is a righteous judgment of God,” that every evil should be attended with its own pu- nishment. Free. I have that opinion of Mr. George Lovely, — that if ever he possesses any part of the family pro-— perty, he will be a shining character. I hope Sir, his | tender delicate wife is upon the recovery, since they” have been so hospitably received in your ei iepes place.—The scenery is very enchanting. Wor. Yes Sir, she is considerably better. Free. I am sure, if she recovers her health any where, no place can be better calculated for that pur | pose than this. Wor. Yes Sir, the kind providence of God has | ” ALDERMAN GREEDY’S CHARACTER. 129 fayored ns with a pleasant situation. If you, are not too much tired after your ride, perhaps you would hke a walk; for you must not leave me till you have seen the Lovelys. Free. Oh Sir! I never thought of intruding myself into your house ; I meant to have ridden two miles further to Mapleton, after I had seen Mr. George Lovely ; but just at the bottom of the hill, a little be- fore I came to your park-gates, I passed by a delight- fully snug public-house, with a tablet over the door, containing such sort of poetry, as [ never saw exhibit- ed at any public-house before; and it was my design _ to have taken up my abode there. Wor. © yes, they are quite orderly people, and would entertain you very decently; and though I shall be sorry to deprive the honest landlord of his customer, yet I must not part with you as my guest ; _I know the Lovelys will return before the dew-of the evening, as the state of her health demands peculiar _eare—Come Sir, we will put on our hats, as we can walk and talk at the same time. - ! . erry _ The proposal was agreed to. As the conversation only turned upon the beautiful prospects, and the elegant, yet romantic views about Brookfield-Hall, it need not be repeated. However I should judge, _some of my readers may suppose what has been suf- ficient to startle their credulity, has been reported, _respecting the remarkable covetousness of the old | Grediton alderman. Should it also be suspected that I may have blended two or three known characters into one, the reader shall enjoy his own conjecture. After all, let him remember the well-authenticated characters of the late Mr. Elwes, (though for many | years in parliament for Berkshire :) the famous Baron | D’Aguilar, belonging to the Starvation Farm-yard, near Islington: that filthy old ceconomist, Daniel Dan- | cer, Esq. late of Pinner, in Middlesex: who at times, literally lived on carrion, and actually died in a sack, ) 180 DIALOGUE XXVIII. about ten years ago, though worth three thousand - pounds annually : his sister also, being just such ano-— ther ceconomist as himself; and that a living witness” of the same sort of unaccountable oeconomy, till very lately existed in the keeper of the dirty warehouse in Leadenhall-street: and then I believe it will be ac-— knowledged, that the character of the miser, as exem- plified in the Grediton Alderman, is by no means caricatured, the general conduct of others of the same tribe being brought into consideration. Let the present subject be concluded, with a re- mark of the inimitable Bishop Hall.—‘ The covetous man is like the spider; he does nothing but lay his” nets to catch every fly, gaping only for a booty of. these flies, he consumeth his own bowels, so that which is his life, is his death ; and yet he is least to” be pitied, because he makes himself miserable: like wicked Ahab, the sight of another’s vineyard turns him sick at heart; he wants it for himself. He hates’ his neighbours, as bad as he is hated by them, and would sell his best friend, (if he had one,) for a groat, He pines his body that he may damn his soul; and whenever disappointed of his expected gain, through the accursed discontent of his mind, he would dis- patch himself, but that he is loath to cast away money | on a cord,” (i 5 te ae ok rhe ~ DIALOGUE XXIX. TUE LOYELYS, THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. TONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THEIR DEPARTURE FROM BROOKFIELD HALL. A EFER the event of the former dialogue, the Lovelys still continued at Brookfield Hall. ‘Their design was to have provided for themselves some lit- tle retired cot in the village, and having fixed upon one that suited their taste, they were about to fit it up in the style of those who find much happiness in a lit- tle, provided they are blessed with happiness in them- selves : while this step was not less satisfactory to the Worthys, who did all in their power to forward their design. ‘The only conditions were, that.as Mr. Lovely was not as yet thoroughly settled, respecting the di- _ yinity of the respectable Dr. Orderly, he might now- and-then attend his Church on the Sabbath-day. Even as yet Mr. Lovely seemed scarcely beaten out of all his strong holds of confidence in himself; for, to the very last week of his continuance in those parts, _ he was somewhat inclined to keep up his opposition ‘to the gospel way of salvation by Jesus Christ ; and therefcre tried if he could not do more by his pen in his chamber, than what he could by conversation. All this he intended for the perusal of Mr. Lovegood ; yet the more he studied the Bible, to make it com- patible with his own sentiments, the more he was confused; and the more he wrote, the less he liked o 132 DIALOGUE XXIX. ¥ it; till at length he was obliged to commit all his writings to the flames, and soon became as humble and as lowly as a child; while he could scarcely speak — against his stout opposition to these things to Mrs. Lovely, without a tear starting from his eye, that ever he should haye given her a moment’s grief on that subject ; intermixed with holy gratitude, that now the silken cords of Gospel love, had united them still” more than ever in heart and affection to each other, through the powerful influence of that love, which makes us all one in Christ Jesus. rs Mr. Lovegood’s mind, at the same time, was led out in great thankfulness for these fresh instances of divine mercy, manifested through him, as a Minister of the word of life. But alas! very soon after this an unexpected summons to Mr. and Mrs. Lovely made a separation immediately necessary. ‘The post, with) the tidings of his great uncle’s dangerous illness, reached Brookfield on the evening of Sunday ; and Mr. Lovegood was sent to that evening, to take an early breakfast with the family on the Monday morn-— ing, that he might be with them at the time of their departure.—Such an interesting and sympathetic union, had now taken place between all parties, as” rendered this last interview very affecting. The reader therefore, must expect the language to be very broken. j zt Lov. [With his eyes embossed with tears, to Mr, Worthy.] Dear Sir, what shall I say to you for the great love and kindness with which you have fa vored us poor outcast strangers, since we have been in these parts ? ae Wor. Say Sir; why nothing. Don’t you think our pleasure has been as great as your’s, in being fa- vored with you and Mrs. Lovely as our guests ? ip Eov. Sir, my dearest Ann has said it a thousand times, that the kindness, and affectionate hospitality with which you have received us, has been the pre servation of her life. It appearsas if she had fe gotien all her sorrews, through the happiness we ha LOVELY’S DEPARTURE. 133 enjoyed in being your guests, though I cannot tell how perverse, and unkind I seem to have been, in holding such arguments against you and Mr. Love- good, upon matters, I now find, that I so ill under- stood. Wor.. Dear Sir, you could not haye been more _perverse than I was, till the grace of God, accompa- nying his truth; compelled me to yield. At one time I was so exasperated against Mr. Lovegood, when he first became our vicar, that I had a great inclination to write to the Bishop against him; while at another time, I found I had more to blame in myself ,than in Mr. Lovegood’s preaching. t Mrs. Lov. My dear George,do not be grieved ; for Iknew you did not mean to offend Mr. Worthy, Mr. Lovegood, or any one else by what you said; and you have often told me so of late ; though I was at times, exceedingly sorry to hear you argue so strenuously, for what I then thought you would soon acknowledge to be wrong. Lov. Yes my dear, I was wrong; I am now con- vinced I was wrong,in being such a strenuous adyo- cate for such a cause: and I am grieved at the per- -yerseness with which I carried it on. But still I -woald not but have visited Brookfield for all the world. _ Loveg. Indeed my dear Sir, these controversial conversations, if they deserve that name, as they have been carried on between us, have affected us in a very different point of view. We were both equally ear- nest in our own cause, and we have equal reason to claim your forbearance, as you have to claim ours. But-on the contrary, we were happy to find you so ‘Inguisitive upon the subject, and that you were so determined to feel your ground every step you trod : ‘itis nothing better than a mark of folly and hypocrisy, he yield without conviction. _ Mrs. Lov. Why then dear Sir, I am afraid I may not be right; for I plainly saw, what a state of igno- rance I was in, from the very first time I heard you preach. 7 | VOL. IL. ~ 134 DIALOGUE XXIX. Loveg. My dear Madam, you must not adinil such. a thought for a moment. Was not Lydia’s heart opened by the Lord, the instant she heard the preach- ing of Paul at Phillippi? I have known some who have drawn the most terrible conclusions against themselves, because they have not felt all those hor- rors of mind, which some may unguardedly speak of, under the first discovery of the evils of their hearts, while after all, nothing but a holy love to God, truly converts the sonl, and constrains us to obey. Lov. Well, well; what a providence it was, that when we designed to have travelled to Ruckford, we should have missed our way so as to take the road to” Mapleton! But I now trust it was, that we might find our way, to be brought to see what we neyer - might have known, had it net been for this merciful event. Dear Sir, let me again ask; what return can I ever make to yourself and family, for all your un- common hospitality and kindness ? Wor. Sir, it is all settled. Give us a promise that you will repeat your visit as speedily as you can. Mrs. and Miss Wor. And we must insist apa 7 that you bring Mrs. Lovely with you. Mrs. Lov. O Madam! to my latest moments, andl I trust toall eternity, I never shall be able to ex- press the gratitude of my heart for the mercies of this visit. Lov. Ah Madam! my dear wife will never start) any objection against that proposal. Wewere oblig to surmount many difficulties before our union co be accomplished, and now we feel doubly nnited. cannot doubt but that the religion of the Bible, wi make us one of the happiest pairs upon earth. [To Mrs. Lovely, taking her by the hand.] My dear, you were right, and I was wrong. Forgive me that I have contradicted you so often; 1 am:sorry for it. [He stifles his grief, and addresses Mr. Lovegood.] Dear Sir, I bless God a thousand times that ever I a you. I confess, that at first 1 was very angry you im my heart, because the mind of my dear wi LOVELY’S DEPARTURE. © 136 was so much discomposed by what you said. Wher I think by what a perverse spirit [ was actuated, it cuts me to the heart. Impute it tomy ignorance, and forgive me. But I can assure you, I never parted with one I loved so much, since ] have seen into the pride and presumption of my wicked heart. [Mr. Lovegood being quite overcome by the address, could make no answer, but retired out of the room.”] Wor. ['To Lovely.] Sir, your conversation acts too powerfully on the feelings of that good man. Lov. Yes Sir. And it was but a little time ago that I was jealous and suspicious of every word he said. And what pains I took to persuade my dear wife to leave your house, that I might have her at a distance from hearing those blessed truths, which I now leave with such regret! But I cannot express what I feel in being deprived of such an instructor, just as I have discovered how ignorant and ill-in- structed I have been all the days of my life. This painful circumstance affects me more than I can ex- press. And what a scene will be exhibited before me, if I find my old uncle on this side of the eternal world, while I feel myself so incapable of instructing him, and he at the same time, so unfit to die! _ Wor. Ob Sir, as you must go post, and as your servant is to follow you with your vehicle, he will have room to carry some of the publications of our good old divines with him, such as Hall, Davenant, Mair, Leighton, and others, who were the real ad- 'yocates of the doctrines of the reformation, authors, ‘not less eminent, though less dignified; and let these, dear Sir, be your instructors, till we see you again ; { will go into my library, and pick you out ‘some of them—But I am sorry, that you have cause ‘to apprehend so much, as it respects the state of your ‘ancle’s mind. Lov. O Sir! I should be ashamed to tell all Iknow or think of him. [To his wife.] My dear creature, what shall we say to him, should we find oq alive? Oh what would I give, if that dear ! 136 ‘ DIALOGUE XXIX. man, who has now left the room, could but go with us? Wor.. An excellent thought my dear Sir; for though we are always very sorry to part with Mr. Lovegood ; yet, for the good of others, I should sup- pose such an event is by no means impracticable ; and I dare say, if Mr. Loyegood can but procure the assistance of Mr. Goodman, who is at present dis- engaged, having been turned out of his curacy bp his Rector, he on his own part will have no objec- tion. . Mrs. Lov. Dear Sir! what a joy it will be to us both, to be favored with such a companion! As we are all of us but slender, and as we must travel post, we shall find quite sufficient room in the chaise. Lov. Oh Sir! if this plan can be accomplished, how happy it will make us! Perhaps Mr. Saveall, -the Rector of Grediton, might lend him his pulpit. I cannot think there are a set of people upon the earth that want such preaching more than they do; the town is full of the most wretched worldly-minded misers that ever existed ; excepting my dear wife’s father, who is not a native, and a very few more, they | are almost all alike. ; Mrs. Lov. Why you know my dear, if Mr. Saveall will not let Mr. Lovegood preach, your father may succeed with Doctor Nescience, though he would not have so large a congregation in the village of Fair- field. But oh how happy should I be! if the people in our parts were but to hear what we have heard, since our visit to Brookfield ! Lov. Ah my dear! instead of talking about getting pulpits for Mr. Lovegood, we must first see if we can get him to go with us. We shall have no time to accomplish such a plan, unless we set about it di- rectly ; for though the days are long, yet we haye a journey of above sixty miles before us. Wor. Then Sir, we must make the more speed, that we may see what can be done; perhaps we ma LOVELY’S DEPARTURE. 137 settle matters in less time than you think for. [Mr. Lovegood is again immediately called in. ] Wor. Come Sir, wipe your eyes, and hear the proposal we have to make to you. Loveg. Sir, I cannot stand it, if Mr. Lovely addres- ses me in such a manner. Wor. Well Sir; but he is going to address you on another subject, and in another manner. Lov. Will you my dear Sir, go with us to Gre- ditun? Mrs. Lov. O dear Sir! don’t say no. 1 beseech you, come with us! Loveg. But what must I do about my Church ? : And then there is poor Mrs. Lovegood, and her little ones. Wor. Oh Sir! there is Mr. Goodman, I dare say he is still disengaged; 1 will send a note to him, if you will write it, and order a man and horse to go with it to Mapleton directly. And as to Mrs. Love- good, we will be sure to pay*her due attendance till your return.— Nothing ‘can make these dear young people so happy, as to be favored with your company : you must go with them. Loveg. Really ‘Sir, such a hasty proposal quite staggers me. Still I feel much inclined to go, but I wish to consider a little. Wor. O Sir! for the present you must put consi- deration quite out of the question. ‘These dear young people will want a friend and an adviser with them, and there is no one that can do so well—But I must not say too much before your face. Loveg. Sir, you know I cannot be ausent above a week or ten days. _ Wor. ('To Mr. Lovely.] Sir, ‘that Mr. Lovegood imay not interrupt time by’his talk, you write a note directly to Mr. Goodman, and request him, in the Sind of us all, to serve Mr. Lovegood’s church next unday: you know him, as he dined with us on Fri- day last, but be sure it does not fall into the’hands of Mr: Dolittle, or Mr.’ Spiteful. ‘[They all smile.] 138 DIALOGUE XXIX. Loveg. Dear Sir, you press matters very close upon me. But will it be worth while to take so longa journey for so short a time? ie Wor. Why, suppose you were to be absent two Sundays instead of one, if Mr. Goodman can supply for you: though we are sorry to part with you, yet you can never do good but at one place at the same time. If I had»your old honest friend Mr. Slapdash here, I should not have had half the trouble to have ‘persuaded him ‘to take the same journey, under the same providential calls. Loveg. Ah Mr. Slapdash! Dear honest man, I know how I want his constitutional zeal. And I tove him for what I have not got. Wor. Then borrow some of mine; you know at times, a rapid fit overtakes me. Come,.come, go home directly to Mrs. Loyegood, pack up your little matters, and by that time my servant will have re- turned with an answer; and depend upon it, that all is right in a way Of providence, if Mr. Goodman can supply for you till your return ; if he cannot, I shall agree with you, that your parochial situation povi- dentially prevents the journey. , Lovelys. [Both together.] Oh do, do, dear Sir, go home directly, and prepare for the journey ; we do-not care if we travel all night, if we can but have you with us. Loveg. Well, well, I find I must submit. JT will go home and return as soon as I can. The Lord direct us ! ia The dialogue thus concluded. A copy of Mr. Lovely’s note to Mr. Goodman, shall be laid before the reader. “DEAR SIR, “« If you can shew the greatest instance of your truly Christian affection, to a poor bewildered youth, whe LOVELY’S DEPARTURE. 159 begins to find his way out of a labyrinth of errors, through the blessing of God on Mr. Lovegood’s preaching and conversation, may I humbly request you to serve his church for him, while he favors me with his presence, and pious advice to Grediton, where I am called immediately to attend, by a letter directed to be written to me, by the dying request of my great uncle. Dear Sir, accept this small token* of respect, as you have suffered so much from your virtuous, and steady conduct, on behalf of our blessed Redeemer’s gospel. I am Sir, With real esteem, Your affectionate friend, and humble Servant, GEORGE LOVELY.” Matters were thus speedily settled, Mr. Goodman engaged to supply for Mr. Lovegood, whereby he seemed fully satisfied that he should take the jour- ney. This greatly softened many painful sensations, respecting the separation. A few sympathetic tears were indeed dropt between Mrs. Lovely and Miss Worthy, who began to feel themselves as much united, as though they had been sisters; and after all things were thus completely settled, a very appropriate, though short prayer, was offered up, and the following parting hymn was sung, which Mr. Lovegood, being possessed of a ready knack of rhyming, gave out as an extempore production on this occasion : Holy Savior! Israel’s guide ! Thee we trust, and none beside : May our footsteps never stray, From thyself the living way. Call’d by thine unerring hand, Bid us bend to thy command ; Let our willing hearts fulfil, All the pleasure of thy will. * The present was a five-pound note. 140 DIALOGUE XKIK. Guarded by the cheerful light Of thy beams, divinely bright ; May we tread the paths of peace, Till we reach the realms of bliss ! O’ecr our souls divinely move, Shelter us, thou God of love: Underneath thy wings may we Love, and serve, and worship thee. Let thy providence direct, Let thy pow’rful arm protect : Thus our gracious Leader be, While we humbly follow thee. Soon after this, the chaise drove to the door. Ho- nest Edward, of the Golden Lion, came up with it, that he might take his last farewel of this most plea- sant pair, thanking God that ever he should have been favored with such guests, and sending after them a thousand blessings wherever they might go. The final salutation between the families next took place, intermixed with many tears; after which the chaise — drove off with its most valuable contents, leaving the — writer a little respite, till Mr. Lovegood’s return from — Grediton, when a further narration of events may be expected by the reader. DIALOGUE. XXX. MR MERRYMAN, MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS. AN ACCOUNT OF THE AWFUL DEATH OF MR. GREEDY, GREAT UNCLE OF MR, LOVELY. AN absence of abont ten days, engaged Mr. Love- good’s attention before his return from his ex- cursion with the Lovelys ; and on the morning after his return, he called at Brookfield-Hall. Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood, meeting him at the hall door.| How do you do my dear Sir? You are wel- come home. Come in; we have no one in the break- fast room but my wife and daughters, and Mr, Mer- ‘ryman; and [ am sure they will all be glad to see you. Loveg. Sir, I hope you are all well? Wor. All well, I thank you. But we are a little busy in settling matters previous to the marriage of my daughter. Mr. Merryman will not be contented any longer without her. In regard to worldly circum- stances, she might have met with a more eligible raatch ; but we shall not thwart the young people in their inclinations. My daughter seems quite in love with him ; in short we are all in love with him. He is an excellent young man. Loveg. Sir, it is very kind of you and Mrs. Wor- thy, not to throw any impediment in their way: I have no doubt but that they will be very happy to- gether. fi. Wor. Between friends, I do not suppose he will leave our house till he has taken my daughter with 142 DIALOGUE XXX. him; so that ina day or two,you will have that office to perform. ['They enter the breakfast room. ] Mrs. Wor. Well Sir, we are all happy to see you back again; but how did you leave those charming creatures, the Lovelys? Loveg. OQ Madam! they have been uncommonly agitated, by their great uncle’s death. Wor. Did you find him alive when you arrived ? Loveg. Madam, he lived four days after we came there. Wor. Then you can tell us somewhat about him. *Loveg. The very recollection of what 1 have seen and heard, makes me tremble; the horrors of his conscience, were inexpressible. Mer. 1 should rather have supposed that he would have left the world stupified, and senseless through his great age and weakness. Loveg. His faculties seemed to be very little im- paired indeed: but the dreadful state of his mind, was beyond description. Wor. What, was that the case during all his ill- ness ? Loveg. By what I could learn, he had been very low and dejected for above a month; though he lived in such a wretched mean way, that no one thought it worth their while to enquire after him, or come to see him. Mer. How then could you get any information respecting the state of his mind. Loveg. All that we could know about him, was _ from the Doctor, and a poor old woman who waited upon him; but we had snfficient specimens of the horrid state of his mind, during the four last days of his life. Wor. | suppose you called on him directly as you arrived. Loveg. No Sir; we first went to Mrs. Lovely’s father, who seems to me, to be almost the only re- spectable person in the town. Wor. What sort of a town is it then? AWFUL DEATH OF GREEDY. 143 Loveg. Sir, 1 hope there is not such another to be | found. It is filled with the most contemptible set | of misers that everlived. There arein it, very large families of the Pinchpoors, the Gripelands, and the | Graspalls ; the Sharpers, the Closefists, the Hoard- | ers, the Trickers, the Selfs, the Squeezers, the | Grinders, the Scrapers, the Skinflints, and the Pen- | nymans, the rule of whose family is, never to spend | apenny if they can save it; almost the whole town | has been in the possession of the Greedys for some | centuries. It seems, in old writings, to have been | originally called Greedytown, only the inhahitants | have softened the name; and what is still more curi- | ous, the family of the Savealls, who are very numer- ous indeed in that town, first got possession of the living so long ago, as when such multitudes of minis- ters were ejected from their livings, in the reign of Charles the Second; and soit has been contrived, | that the living has continued in the same family ever | since. Mer. What a horrid condition the people must be ‘in, while under the care of such a minister! _ Loveg. Oh Sir! they are wonderfully pleased with him; his sort of sermons just suit their taste ; he is always expatiating on the evils of extravagance, cn the virtues of forecast and frugality, and on the ex- _ cellencies, and necessities of good ceconomy. Wor. How can Mr. Commerce hear to live with such a set? Loveg. Sir, he is very glad he has it to say, that his family are not among the natives of the Town, though _ there is some reason to apprehend that he has caught, :- at least, a little of the contagion belonging to the place. [To Mr. Worthy.| I think Sir, it would kill you if you were to attempt to live there for a month, it is situated in such a sad cold barren spot; and _ though very large, as you may suppose, from the fami- lies that live in it, yet it isa miserable, mean, dirty looking place. Mr. Lovely’s father, though Fairfield, where he lives, is above six miles from Grediton, can 144 DIALOGUE XXX scarcely bear his house, while the wind sets that way, it is so very offensive to his constitution. Mrs. Wor. Did Mr. Lovely spend no time at his — great uncle’s house, while you were at Grediton ? Loveg. Why Madam, it is impossible to describe the — miserably mean way in which he lived. The bed on which he died, and all the furniture of the room, could not, I am satisfied, have been worth forty shillings : we were obliged to live entirely with Mr. Commerce. Mrs. Wor. But we want to know how you got an interview with him. Loveg. Oh Madam ! it was with great difficulty in- deed ; for his nephew, the Esquire, as he is called, who — lives at Grediton House, the old family seat, about a mile anda half from the town, sent Mr. Quirk his lawyer to him, that as he was likely to die soon, he wished to die in peace with him. And this was all with a design to get his money from him: for he was — to remind the old man that he was next akin. Wor. These tricks are just what I should expect i from such a set. Loveg. But here Sir, there was trick upon trick ; for — before Mr. Quirk performed his office for his client, he first began tampering with Mr. Lovely, telling him his errand; and that if he would only give hima thousand pounds, the Will should be made entirely in his favor. Mer. I will engage for it, Mr. Lovely would never submit to such a detestable design. Loveg. Sir, before Mr, Lovely went to his great uncle’s, he told me of the proposal; and we both agreed that such a transaction for the sake of money, might justly be deemed a scandalous juggle. Wor. I believe that amiable youth, would rather suffer any thing, than submit to any action which was dirty,and unjust ; so that here it should appear, he was likely to have another sacrifice to make, nearly as costly as the former. Loveg. Oh no Sir; this was only a trick of Mr. AWFUL DEATH OF GREEDY. 145 | Quirk’s ; for the old man, having had several sharp | contests with his nephew, the Esquire, about money _ matters, was ever determined to make Mr. Lovely his heir. However I advised Mr. Lovely by no means, to suffer Mr. Quirk to go alone to his great _uncle, that he might prevent any underhand deal- ings; so they went both of them together, and Mr, Lovely told me as soon as they entered the room, he groaned inexpressibly, and cried,—‘‘ Oh nephew! I “must die, I know I must die; and oh that dreadful moment!” Mr. Quirk then interrupted him, and said, Sir, I am come with your nephew, Mr. Greedy’s respects, that he hopes you have forgiven him, and that you die in peace with him; and it is to be hoped Sir, according to these principles of mutual for- giveness, you have settled your affairs. He took him up very hastily, and said, “‘ What do you ask me ‘that question for?” Mr. Quirk made answer, that he only wished to remind him, that his nephew was nearer akin than Mr. Lovely. Immediately, though quite in despair, he swore at him several times, call- ing him rascal, and said that he should leave all to young George. Mer. Could the lawyer stand all this? _ Loveg. Sir, he immediately retired, and Mr. Lovely and the old woman were left in the room alone with Mr. Greedy, while he continued, cursing the designs of the lawyer, in the profanest manner. Wor. Was this profane way of talk what he in general accustomed himself to? Loveg.. When he was ina passion, he would at times be very reprobate ; but in general he did not adopt this infernal language. However it was a most awful circumstance, that when the horrors of his conscience were the most dreadful, his language would be the most profane. Wor, I fear then, it was a difficult matter for you to get an introduction to him. Loveg. Sir, Mr. Lovely first opened the business by saying, he wou'd wish to introduce to him a cler- VOL. Il. oO 146 DIALOGUE XXX. gyman of his acquaintance, as he appeared neat death. He cried, ‘‘ What good can such men do for me, I have known some of them as wicked as myself?” Mr. Lovely then pleaded for my admission, as being one of a different character ; and then he cried, “O God! could I find the man, though at the distance of a thousand miles, who can quell the hell I feel within, how gladly would I send for him!” Mr. Lovely kindly answered—Sir, if any man upon earth can re- lieve the agonies of your mind, it is the minister I now wish you to see; and in consequence of this, I was admitted to see him. Wor. I fear it was an awful sight. Loveg. The most awful I ever saw. His first speech was—“ Sir, if there be an eternal world, you see a wretch sinking into eternal woe.” He appeared almost distracted with despair; the stare of his eyes was most dreadful. Wor. How could you answer him in such a state ? Loveg. Sir, the only remedy you know that can be applied, is the gospel. I told him that all the tree mercies of redemption, were revealed to penitent believers in the Lord Jesus, and that even these graces whereby sinners are brought to Christ, are the entire gift of God: and that Jesus Christ has in his heart, compassion to the vilest of our race. Mer. And what was his answer? Loveg. Hecried—‘ I have for a long time been en- deavoring to think that there never was such a person as Jesus Christ; or that he was some enthusiastica| impostor of the day; for oh, how I have hated his doc- trine, and that of his disciples!” Then he paused and stammered out, from the best of his recollection these passages from Scripture, “‘ Do unto others, a ye would they should do unto you.”—*“ Love not th; world, nor the things that are in the world.”—“ Co vetousness, which is idolatry.” “If a man see hi brother in need, and shut up his bowels of compa: sion, how dwelleth the love of God inhim!” H AWFUL DEATH OF GREEDY. 147 then cried, “‘ O God! What shall I do, if I am caill- ed to stand before such a jadge.” Wor. {I fear then that he had been hardened in his _wickedness, by the infidel system of the day. - Loveg. Sir, I believe he attempted to stand by it as long as he could ;- but then, like Voltaire, D” Alem- bert, and many others, he was obliged to a0 up all | his infidel: prmciples before he died. _ Mrs. Wor. Well, well; God give us a _ religion, “which will do to live by, and that will prove the best ‘to die by! _ Loveg. True dear Madam ; but from what I could 3 find, he was not a Deist; though I believe, like all “who chuse darkness rather than light, because : = deeds are evil,” he tried to the utmost of his power, to be one. _ Mer. In that respect I was quite like him, when I was living in sin ; I could never bear to believe that | the Bible was true, and I have wished it false a thou- sand times. _ Loveg. I remember a remark of his on this ver subject, which made me shudder. He cried in his ‘taost reprobate language: “‘ How could I be sach a d------ fool, to believe the Bible was false, only be- ¢ause it threatens eternal damnation against such hard-hearted monsters as myself!” And at another fime he cried, — “ How must I be hated of Christ, who preached and recommended nothing but mercy, while throughout all my life, I have been as cruel as ‘the Devil himself!’ And when I again attempted to a him of the infinite ability of Christ “te save to ‘the uttermost,” he shook his head and said, “I have ever hated him, and loved nobody bat myself; and now I shall be eternally hated by him.” At another time he cried, “I have lived on earth, to starve my body, and oppress the poor, for which I am now going to receive the eternal damnation of my saul.” Wor. What a proof is this of the importance of ihone words, “ What shall it profit a man if he shall 148 DIALOGUE XXX. gain the whole world, and lose his own soul; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul !” Loveg. He wes made to feel the sting of those words inexpressibly ; for he said, among other things, “though there was a time eee I would almost as soon have parted with my life, as my money ; yet oh, what would I not now give, if I could but purchase a short respite from the grave !—I am going, | feel I am going, and I know not where: but by grasping after earth, I have lost heaven, and must lose them — both eternally.” Mer. What a horrid witness this poet wretched | creature bore against himself ! Q Loveg. The most horrid that can be conceived. It seems once, after he had lain some time as in a slumber, though intermixed with sad and heavy groans, he was asked if his sleep had not done him some good? He immediately cried,—‘ What rest could [ find in-sleep, while all the time: I thought La was cast “into outer darkness, to be tortured with Devils and damned spirits, where there shall be weep- mg, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth,—where the worm dieth not, and where the fire is not quenched.” ~ O, that pit of hell! I thought I was falling in it, andl that I should be falling to all eternity, because it is the pit that is bottomless. © that I could but be- lieve what some have said, “ Death is an eternal sleep.” Wor. What then, could you get him to receive no word of consolation ? Loveg. Every word I attempted to put into his mind, by way of consolation, he would immediately turn against himseif. When I said that though Christ was a tremendous judge to the wicked, yet to the penitent, he would be a most merciful, and gracious mediator. He immediately cried, ‘‘1 a penitent! No, my heart is as hard as a stone: I dread Hell, but I cannot repent of sin.’ “‘T shall have thousands to witness against me.” Then he stammered out—“ 1 was hungered, and ye gave me no meat: .I was AWFUL DEATH OF GREEDY. 149 thirsty, and ye gave me no drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; naked, and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison, and ye visited me not.” What then can screen me from the sentence I shall so soon hear? “ Depart from me, ye cursed, into ever- lasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his angels.” Mrs. Wor. How awfully he bore witness against himself. But it is remarkable that he should have been able to quote the scriptures so correctly ; one would have thought that his wickedness would have kept him from reading the Bible. Loveg. Oh madam! many as wicked as the old _ Alderman, will read the scriptures if it be only for the sake of turning them into ridicule: but he was to- lerably regular at his church, for that cost him no- thing, and thereby he kept up appearances : and you know, that there is a deal of scripture read in our church service: and there he would sit in his Alderman’s _ gown, as demure, and apparently as devout, as if he had been the best christian in the parish; besides, he had a remarkably strong memory, being so accus- tomed to exercise his brains upon simple, and com- pound interest, he surprised every body as a remark- ably memmentor arithmetician ; no wonder therefore, that the scriptures he read as a school book, and were so frequently read to him at church, should have_ been so well recollected by him. : Wor. I suppose the Rector would highly compli ment him on this account. : Loveg. Mr. Saveall, would be frequently saying, he was a very good churchman, though a little too mean. Wor. Would he suffer you to go to prayer with him before you left him ? Loveg. Though he seemed to abhor the thoughts of prayer, yet we were determined not to leave the room without it. But how awfully he interrupted us by his screams, and exclamations, crying, ‘“‘O God, what I feel! I feel Hell already; the wrath of God abideth on me.” So that it appeared in vain to at- tempt to pray with him. 150 DIALOGUE XXX. Mer. What a hopeless case! How could you and Mr. Lovely bear such an awful sight ? Loveg. Sir, poor Mr. Lovely was almost overset by it, as well as myself. However, after this we de- parted, and repeated our visit the next day. Wor. Did he still continue in the same horrid frame of mind? | Loveg. Not in the smallest degree any better, and worse he could not be. When his nephew asked him if he had had any sleep, he immediately cried,— *«Sleep! how can I sleep, while I have the cries of Farmer Needy’s widow in my ears; when it was al- most but the other day, that I stript her of all she had, by enforcing a bond in judgment against her? and what mercy can I expect from God, while I could harden my heart against the widow's cries; and while her poor daughter was upon her knees, with four of her children, and another at her breast, begging for mercy, as it was her father’s long illness, and other misfortunes, and by no means their own neglect, that had plunged them into poverty?” and , what business had I to cheat Simon Grasper’s nephew, of three thousand pounds, by a vile alteration of his will ; and thus to rob a poor family of almost all they had a right to expect.—He paused and added, yes, I believe I did sleep for about half an hour, and then I thought I was the rich man in Hell, lifting up my eyes in eternal torments, crying for a drop of water to cool the tip of my tongue ; and while 1 thought how grievously I was tormented in that flame, [ awoke.”—It seemed scarcely possible, that any one could live in a more dreadful state of despair. Wor. I should suppose these keen and cutting re- flections against himself, arose from many other in- stances of his oppressive conduct, besides that which you have mentioned before. Loveg. O Sir! he began repeating several of them. One I remember was, that when a man, though but in poor circumstances, left him in his will, five pounds for some law expences, he being ee is = £ — Ee Pk ee ge Se, eee a ey Ss 4 MPAA SNECR, Ey AWFUL DEATH OF JUSTICE GREEDY. Tn life he was a Deist, and nearly an Atheist. A contemptible miser, and a universal oppressor; he dealt cruelly with his tenants, and all the poor cursed him. : . Mr. Lovegood.—We had sufficient specimens of the horrid state of his mind during the four last days of his life. He appeared almost dis- tracted; the stare of his eyes was most dreadful. He said, “‘ Sir, if there be an eternal world, you see a wretch sinking into eternal woe.” He then added, ‘‘I have been for a long time endeavouring to think there never was such a person as Jesus Christ, or that he was some enthusiastic impostor of the day ;” and then added, “* How could I be such a fool as to think the Bible was false? I am going, I feel I am oing, and I know not where. Oh! that I could but believe what some ave said, Death is an eternal sleep.” Just about this time the nurse stirred the fire, and as it began to blaze, he cried, ‘* What would I give if I might but burn in that fire for ten thousand years, so as to escape the eternal damnation of my soul !” wD S ‘ <0! BD C. and C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. AWFUL DEATH OF GREEDY. 1st the maker of the will, inserted fifty pounds, instead of five. Thus the man, being too far gone through illness, to attend to his tricks, gave away half as much as he had in the world, from ‘his poor relations. But how terribly he cried out on account of his cruel con- duct, against one Isaac Careful, a tenant of his, whom he sent to gaol, because he would not give up a few trifling leaseholds, which were settled upon his wife and children, though he was reduced to poverty by a loss through fire, and was in himself a very industrious man. Wor. How could Mr. Lovely bear to hear him re- late his horrid tricks? Loveg. Sir, | never saw a poor youth so soteded in my life. His dreadful. cries at. intervals, against himself, and concerning the agonies of his conscience, were most tremendous. When I once said, Sir, yet there may be hope; he cried, ‘“‘ O God ! (which was his common exclamation,) it is impossible—I am sure it is impossible—and I am as sure to be in Hell, as if I were there already ; and the smoke of my torment will be ascending up for ever, and ever.” Just about that time the nurse stirred the fire; and as it began to blaze, he cried—‘‘ What would I give, if I might but burn on that fire for ten thousand years, so as to escape the eternal damnation of my soul !” Miss. Wor. Dear Sir! his expressions are so un- commonly dreadful, that I fear i must quit the room if J hear any more ee them, it makes me so nervous. ~ Mer. Why my dear Miss Worthy, we may profit by these alarming lessons, as well as by others which are grateful and pleasing. What a wonderful contrast between the death of poor Mr. Chipman, and that of this old miser ! __ Wor. Well, for the sake of my daughter, and in- deed on account.of all our feelings, I shall only ask if he said any thing better in his last moments, before his dissolution. Loveg. Sir, I was not then ia the room, but it for the two last days, he was in a measure ) 152 DIALOGUE XXX. senseless : still he groaned horribly, frequently adding that most profane expression, which we so commonly hear—‘ D—nit, that ever I was born!” and when the nurse, who attended him, a little aroused him, by wiping the phlegm from his mouth, which prevented his breathing, he used — same horrible expression, - adding, << Soon afterwards he died ; and these it seems, were ‘the last words he ever uttered in life. Oh, what horrid expressions for a dying man! It is enough to chill one’s very blood. * Wor. Was Mr. Lovely with him when he died? Loveg. No Sir; his uncle’s language was so dread- ful, and profane, that he quite swore him out of the room. What he said, was afterwards reported to” him by the nurse he sent to attend him. Mrs. Wor. Had he any desire to see Mrs. Lovely? Loveg. Sir, he asked for her several times, but we always made an excuse for her, saying her nerves” were too weak to see him, unless he should get a lit- tle better, or should be more composed. Mer. Well, ] am sure we have heard enough off Mr. Greedy ; it is high time that we should now heag something of the Love velys. [Enter servant.] . Servant. Sir, Farmer Till has brought the horsdll if your honor will chuse to look at him. Wor. ['To Mr. Merryman.] Why Sir, as you are about to take my daughter away with you, I thought I would buy her a horse, that you may have no excuse for not riding over frequently from Sandover, when you are settled there. Mer. Sir, you are exceeding kind; but we shall generally come over in our one-horse chaise. Wor. Yes, but exercise on horseback is both plea- sant and healthy. I would have my daughter keep on horseback as much as she can. I must request you Mr. Merryman, -to come and see how you like the horse; [ suppose in your gay days, you used to attend much to the make, and shape of a horse. Mer. Ab Sir! much more than ever I did to the meaning of my Bible. AWFUL DEATH OF GREEDY. 158 Wor. Well Sir, we will not keep the farmer wait- ing ; we may as well all go and take a view of the horse, and resume the subject on ourreturn. Besides, I think we all need a little relaxation after this dread- ‘ful account of old Greedy’s death. ==> As Mr. Merryman’s observations on the horse, relating to its beauties, its defects, its gift of mov- ing, its price, &c. would be very uninteresting, the subject will be discontinued till the next Dialogue, when a much more pleasing narration will be pre- sented to the reader. DIALOGUE XXXI. MR. LOVEGOOD, MR. MERRYMAN, AND THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS. : ~ BENEVOLENCE AND HUMANITY DISPLAYED IN THE PERSON AND CHARACTER OF MR. LOVELY, WITH THE CHARACTER OF DOCIOR NESCIENCE. HE horse-dealing business having been settled, the family returned, and the Dialogue recom-— menced. Wor. I suppose the old miserly uinéle, left the hares a fine penny. Loveg. Sir, they say he has hearded up for him, nearly five thousand. pounds a year. ’ Wor. Is it possible ? Loveg. Yes Sir; and his original fortune was but three thousand pounds, which he had when he first came of age; and an old aunt, (a Mrs. Pincher, it seems) soon afterwards left him another thousand pounds, all the rest he has been accumulating by hoarding interest upon interest, by his professiou, by procuring for himself legacies, ‘where he thought they would answer his end better than his fees, and a hun- dred dirty tricks besides. He was the most coma money-jobber in the kingdom. Miss. Wor. Poor hee Thomas Newman, is a much richer man than old lawyer Greedy ever was. _ Mer, And J really think he keeps a better house. LOVELY’S BENEVOLENUE. 155 Loveg. 1 am sure he keeps a cleaner house: it is a ood old proverb, ‘ Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Blow that filthy old creature could live so long, and in so much dirt and poverty, is a matter of surprise to me: for he was turned of eighty-one before he died. - Wor. Well, I can suppose'he might have died worth all that property, when one considers what a length of time he had to make his hoard ; for it seems whe was always getting and saving, and never spend- ing. But I had much rather hear how Mr. Lovely is like to spend it, than how that wretched miser con- -trived to get it. _ Loveg. Sir, the old man lefta very correct schedule | of his possessions behind him, which Mr. Quirk art- fully wanted to secrete. I immediately advised him to send for one honest iawyer, who lives a few miles out of that town,— Mr. Justice; for I am sure the Grediton _lawyers are such a set, as I never heard of before ; they _were mostly tutored under old Greedy; and I believe Mr. Justice, will prove a very upright agent, to that excellent young man. _ Wor. Well, well, there are good and bad of all "professions. But that amiable youth must feel this an astonishing reverse of fortune. Loveg. Yes Sir; and by the grace of God, I have a good hope, he will be enabled to carry this full cup ‘of worldly prosperity with an even, and a cautious ‘hand. Before he opened his uncle’s will, he begged ‘I would go to prayer. The will contained nothing but that his nephew was to possess all, with no other | legacy than a pitiful five pounds a year, to the old / woman (one Betty Farthing) who occasionally waited upon him ; allowing but fifteen pounds for his funeral ; | which he thought might be sufficient, as he had pre- _ served two large oaken planks from a carpenter, by way | of fees, out of which he directed his coffin should be _made, and that his old morning-gown, should save the expence of a shroud: so that his covetous purposes followed him to the very grave. . Mer. How could Mr. Lovely follow his directions, 156 DIALOGUE XXXI. as it respected the abominably mean way of his in terment ! Loveg. Oh Sir, he ordered the oaken boards to be nailed aeiion and made into a decent coffin, sent for an undertaker, told him that though only fifteen | pounds were allowed for the funeral ; yet that he should make him a present of fifteen more, if it was necessary, for his own trouble, provided he would see” to a plain, decent, but not mean interment of his uncle ; as he must directly go to his father’s at Fair- field, and should not himself attend the funeral. Thus” matters were understoood, and settled between the undertaker and Mr. Lovely, and the old miser was decently interred, if youcan call it a decent business, when there was such an horrid uproar made, while the bearers carried him to the grave. Mer. Astonishing! Did they insult the corpse of the old man while they “carried it to the church-yard, and among a set of people so much like himself? Loveg. Several insulting speeches were actually thrown out, as the funeral went along, even by the miserable inhabitants of that place. One cried “The Devil has been grinding him before now, for grinding the face of the poor.” Another exclaimed, “ The Devil had sent for his beloved son old Greedy, and that . he had got him at last :” and many more such apeceiaay were made. Mer. It must have been rather a painful circum- stance to Mr. Lovely, to possess a fortune procured by such abominable means. Loveg. Though I believe the old lawyer’s plan was to get money by all means, whether fair or foul; yet what was obtained by oppression and wrong, was but an inconsiderable part, when compared to what he bad accumulated by the mere art of hoarding. But directly as he had ran over the schedule of his uncle’s affairs, he cried, “‘ Blessed be God, I find T shall have quite enough to make a restitution where needed, to assist the poor, to shew some tokens of respect to my relations, and to enjoy all the comforts and con- LOVELY’S BENEVOLENCE, 157 _veniences of life, that I can wish for my dearest Ann and myself: and O, may I spend the rest to the glory of God !” _ Mer. Restitution it seems was the first thing he thought of. _ Loveg. Yes; and the first thing he practised. He is a youth of a most admirable mind ; for the first action was to restore the fifty pounds procured by the will of the poor man, fraudulently made by his uncle ; and though he found the surviving family had risen since then, which was full twelve years ago, into very decent circumstances, yet nothing would content Mr. Lovely, till he had made restitution, by sending them a hundred pounds, that principle and confpound in- terest might be discharged : as he said he never could be happy to retain that sum in his possession, which he had no right to call his own. Wor. This was a noble beginning ! Loveg. But the next action was more noble still, for he could not rest till he had found out the family of the Needys, which the uncle had so cruelly ruined, about four years before his death; and he found that they were removed from the parish of Grediton, into their own parish, by one of the overseers, whose name was Pinchpoor ; lest they should become chargeable to them, after the vile old miser had stript them of their all. Mr. Lovely went, and enquired of Mr. Pinch- poor about them, and found that he had sent them into the neighbouring parish of Starvington. . The family, consisted of the aged mother, her daughter, her husband, and five small children, harbored in a miserable cottage, though in as good a plight as could be expected, their great poverty being taken into consideration; slmost all their subsistence arising from the earnings of her husband, who was now only a day- laborer, the spinning of the children, and the parish scanty allowance of eighteen pence a weck, to the poor old widow. Mer. Oh, this was charming! and I will warrant VOL, Il. P 158 DIALOGUE XXX1l. he relieved them liberally. Did he take you with him on this errand ? : Loveg. Sir, he would go nowhere without me, He is become astonishingly affectionate : and it was, I think, one of the most impressive scenes I ever be- held. When he first came into the house and saw their poverty, he gave to three of the poor children, who were then at home, a half crown each; and as he was entirely unknown to them, he asked the question, as though he was ignorant of it himself, how they came to be driven out of their little farm, after the husband’s death ; and a dreadful story it was: for it appeared, that while the mere loan of a few pounds, during the hours of their calamity, might have kept them up, the miser’s hard hand of oppression, com- pletely threw. them down. After Mr. Lovely had heard their tale, he stifled his grief, called me out, and gave vent to the feelings of his mind; while he wept plentifully over the miseries of the family, his uncle had brought to ruin. After he had consulted with me on the most eligible way of their relief, he yeturned. He then told them who he was, and that he was now possessed of all his great uncle’s property : that he was quite grieved at heart on account of what had past, and was now determined to wipe the tear - from the widow’s eye, while he should esteem it a call in providence, to superintend the good of the family, as a father and a friend: and then a second time he began to weep. Immediately he took ten guireas out of his pocket for their present wants, and promised them twelve shillings a week, with an en- gagement to pay their rent, till he could provide bet- ter for them in some little farm, that might belong te him, as soon as there was a vacancy, provided they proved industrious, and worthy of his attention. Mer. Sir, could you stand all this ?. Loveg. Indeed Sir, I could not ; being quite over- vome by it, I was obliged to leave the house a second time ; and while I was giving way to my feelings, in oN i‘ MR. LOVELY RELIEVING A POOR FAMILY. “* When he first came into the house, he gave half-a-crown each, to three = of the poor children. - “In came the honest man from his day labour, when he beheld his wife and children surronnding Mr. Lovely as in an ecstasy, and the old woman in tears, and on her knees, blessing God for such unexpected mercies—while he himself stood motionless, with his eyes lifted up, and his hands clasped together.” 18 | C. Whittingham College, House, CRiswick. | | ‘LOVELY’S BENEVOLENCE. 159 eame the honest man from his day-labor. He was not only much surprised to see me so affected at the door of the cottage; but when he came in, he had to behold his wife and children, surrounding Mr. Lovely as in an ecstasy, and the old woman in tears, and on her knees, blessing God for such unexpected “mercies. He wondered for awhile what could be the eause. At one time he thought that some cruel bailiff had entered the house, on account of a few trifling debts which had remained on account of his _ wife’s father, but when he began to hear the true sto- ry, who Mr. Lovely was, and on what errand he came, with his eyes lifted up, and his hands clasped toge- ther, he stood quite motionless. Just then 1 re- turned into the house—I never saw such a scene in all my life. - Wor. This I call the luxury of doing good. It may easily be decided who felt the greatest happiness, the old miser in grasping after this money, or the nephew in giving it away. ZLoveg. Ah Sir, but his most delightful conduct towards the man, his great uncle sent to gaol, poor Tsaac Careful, because he would not resign the pro- _perty of his wife and children, was if possible, more affecting and noble. - Miss Wor. Oh dear Sir ! do let us hear it. Loveg. Why Miss, the anxiety of his mind, on that occasion, was beyond all expression. The day after the funeral, he ordered two post-chaises; he and Mrs. Lovely went in one chaise, I and Mr. Jus- tice in the other, to the county gaol, ten miles from Grediton. Mr. Justice was directed to enter into conversation with him, while Mr. and Mrs. Lovely sat by, as entire strangers. After he had heard buta part of the story, he cried—Oh Mr. Justice ! let me hear no more: he must be discharged immediately. The man cried, What canall this mean? Why re- plied Mr. Justice, it means that Mr. Lovely,.who possesses the late Mr. Greedy’s fortune, will have you discharged directly, that you may see your wife and family before sunset, 160 DIALOGUE XXXI, Mrs. Wor. Oh what delightful tidings to a poor prisoner, confined at a distance from his wife and family! surely he must have been quite overcome by it. Lovey. For a while it entirely overset him. For he immediately fixed his eyes on Mr. Lovely, and al- most directly afterwards, quite fainted away with sur- prise, and joy, and it was some time before he re- covered, Mr. Lovely next gave the keeper ten pounds, to be distributed among the most necessitous of the prisoners, begging, at the same time, that 1 might be permitted to drop among them a word of exhor- tation, for their general good. This office I performed with a considerable degree of difficulty, being so much _ affected at the scene which was before me; nor were most of my miserable hearers, less affected than our- selves: and while I was offering up a concluding prayer, especially for the poor man, who was the ob- ject of such providential mercy from the kind hand of Mr. Lovely ; spiritualizing it at the same time, that every poor prisoner might seek for the gracious, — and delivering mercy of our Lord Jesus unto eternal life ; and it is amazing what a many tears were shed ‘among them. Wor. Nothing melts and conquers like love! : Loveg. That has been proved to us bythe love of Christ. But ch! to see the countenance of the poor prisoner, just brought again to the enjoyment of his liberty, by that most delightful young man, as he walked from the prison to the inn, and the attention of Mr. Lovely, in first ordering him such a meal as he had not tasted for many a long day before ; and then sending to a ready-made clothes shop, that his prison garments might be changed for a decent suit. Oh Sir ! how he looked ; how he wept; how he rejoiced; how he talked, during all these more. pleasing and generous circumstances, on his behalf! . Mer. Blessed God! what a delightful scene was this! Butit seems you made quick work of the bu- siness, if according to promise, the poor mah was with his wife and family by sun-set. LOVELY’S BENEVOLENCE. 161 Loveg.: Sir, you know the days are yet long, and all matters were settled for our return in about two hours and a half; and then we drove off with this rich booty of humanity, so well calculated to feast the mind of this admirable youth. Mr. and Mrs. Lovely took me with them in their chaise, and Mr. Justice and the poor man followed in the other. Wor. [To Mrs. Worthy.] My dear, what makes you weep! Mrs. Wor. As a-mother and a parent myself, how it strikes me ; what must Careful’s wife have felt, un- der such an interposition of divine Providence: Oh how delightfully surprised she must have been, on his unexpected arrival; was it not quite too much for her? Loveg. Why Madam, that matter was left to me to soften as well as [ could ; but still the consequences were attended with very powerful effects. Wor. [To Mrs. Worthy] ‘Come my dear, wipe your eyes! Let us see if we cannot attend to them.— How did you break matters to the family ? Loveg. I first went to their house, which is near a mile from Grediton, made an excuse for taking the liberty to rest myself, as the day had been very hot; then I began talking to them about the death of old lawyer Greedy. At-once the woman began, ‘in the severest language, execrating his horrid memory, and especially his cruelty against them. I endeavored to correct her vehemence, and then asked her, if she had heard of young Mr. Lovely, who had succeeded to all his wealth. She immediately cried, Yes, she had heard he was a very good sort of a young gentleman, and that she was advised to present a petition to him, on the behalf of herself and family, if she could get any one to draw it up, that her poor husband might be released from gaol. 1 told her she need ndt do that, as he was released already. She said, “ Surely you joke.” [ answered, “It is no joke; but if you will promise me to be mild and calm, as all earthly blessines are uncertain, I can tell you the particu- 162 DIALOGUE XXXI. lars of that joyful event.” And when I came to re- late that part of the story, how Mr. Lovely himself had even gone to bring her husband that day out of gaol, and that he was now at Grediton, at the sign of the Three Misers, the principal inn in that town, and that he would be with her in about an hour, the tran- sport of her joy was excessive. “ Miss Wor. How could the poor woman support herself, under such happy and unexpected news ? Loveg. Oh Madam! she was all ecstasy: at one time she was upon her knees ; then her hands were lifted up with surprise ; then she ran hither and thi- ther about the house, like one distracted. She imme- diately begged, above all things, that she might go directly to see her husband, and bring him home; and I found her raptures were so great, that it was impos- sible to keep her back, and two of the children were as eagerly determined to attend her. Mer. What a meeting that must have been ? Loveg. A meeting indeed! much more affecting than the former, ‘The woman ran into the room like one distracted. As to conversation, it was all inter- rupted, by the vehemence of excessive joy between them, -and the two eldest children. For it seems the family, though in a poor way, lived very happy together, till old Greedy sent the poor man to gaol, because he did not chuse to resign the property of his wife and children, into his rapacious hands. Wor. Had they nothing to say to their kind de- liverer ? Loveg. Sir, the dear young man could not stand it any longer ; he was so affected at these delightful con- sequences of his benevolence, that he ran out of the room almost directly ; especially when they began personally to thank him for his immediate, and great attention to their misery ; he therefore called me out, and took a twenty pound bank-note from bis old uncle’s hoard, telling me to give it to them for their immediate necessities ; and as the scene was too much for him, he begged that they would go home for the LOVELY’S BENEVOLENCE. 163 present, and that he should send to inquire after them on some future day. Wor. I will engage for it, such a scene as that, had not been exhibited in that inn, for many a long day, Loveg. Oh Sir! Mr. Hoarder himself, the landlord of the Three Misers, though one of the real natives of the town, for once felt so much of the tender emo- tions of humanity, that he could not help dropping a tear with others ; and what was still more astonishing, could even call the family into the kitchen, and give them a good dinner without any charge, though Mr. Lovely had before ordered them a dinner on his own account. Wor. That wretch has a hard heart, whose eye ne- ver started the tear of compassion over human woe ! Loveg. True Sir; but there are many such wretch- es in the world, especially at Grediton. Miss Wor. Oh me! what a delightful sight this must have been, and yet how affecting! But you have not told us how he behaved towards Simon Grasper’s nephew, who as it was supposed, was flung out of three thousand pounds by a crafty alteration of the will. Loveg. O Miss, he means to restore every half- penny of it: but as he has it in his power, and as he hears the young man is not over prudent, and has a large family : he means to settle it in such a manner, that all of them shall be the better for it; which it | seems was the old uncle’s design. He has already informed them of it by letter, and the joy of the whole family, which was almost reduced to poverty, is inexpressible : while they are exceeding glad that it is in such excellent hands, that it is likely to be settled upon them for their future good. _ Wor. [To his daughter.] My dear Eliza, may you and you dear intended, live to see many such delight- ful sights exhibited towards numbers of our fellow | creatures. I shall be very glad to help you out on all such occasions, as far as my fortune will allow ; | and it is not wise to go beyond it, even in doing ¢ good. ’ v 164 DIALOGUE XXXIL. Loveg. Ah, dear young Mr. Lovely! 1 wish 4 was here to take this wise hint, and not to go fuster than he can hold on; for directly as he had opened the will, and found what he was worth, he cried— ** And why should [ have all, and my dear sisters have nothing, who are as near akin as myself—I will se each of them a thousand pounds. My unele’s wil was nota just one.” [ immediately added, ‘‘ Probab not dear Sir; but then it will be publicly known, that he has left you in possession of all his larg hoard ; and while you live, the public will expec from you, what is suitable to such a fortune; let me give you my advice—do not spend the capital, bat be liberal with the product; and at all times be fru- gal at home, that you may be generous abroad. Thus dear Sir, you will find it in your power to be liberal all the days of your life.” I also urged, that 2 his sisters were in decent circumstances, and that two of them, who were married, were even affluent, that if, by any reverse of fortune, his liberal designs” should be found necessary, it would then become hit to assist, with a generosity equal to his fortune. Wor. Well Sir, this was good advice, did he upon it. ; Loveg. He said he was determined:to present them with a thousand pounds, to be divided between them as a compliment for mourning, and that he would take other matters into further ‘consideration ; though since then, I have found he sent each of them a thousand pounds : but oh the heaps of applications he had from almost every quarter, after these few stances of his liberal spirit were known in the neighbourhood. Wor. Alas, alas, as soon as a man of generosity is found, what wretstied harpies he is sure to have after him! Directly when he has relieved the really tous, multitudes of the hypocritical, and wo will be sure to find him out, that they may p the bounty he preserves for others; and it is a sand times better to submit to imposition, than LOVELY’S’ BENEVOLENCE. 165 our generosity. But what did he do with these ap- plicants ? Loveg. Sir, I advised hm to refer them all to his agent ; and notwithstanding most of them were very futile, having nothing to complain of but hard bar- gains, yet he parted with not less than eight hundred pounds to satisfy their demands. Wor. I fear this delightful young man will be sadly taken in, unless he is upon his guard. Loveg. Why, soon after he had given away fifty pounds to one family, he found he was completely swindled out of it: and I was scarcely sorry for it, as it may teach him a good lesson. He thinks all the world are as upright as himself. Wor. I think with you, this might prove a good lesson to this sweet-minded youth : how happy should I be, if he lived nearer to these parts, that I might give him the best advice in my power! Loveg. Sir, his wishes thoroughly correspond with yours. Mrs. Wor. I am sure they thoroughly correspond with mine. Loveg. Why madam, he says the air of Grediton will never agree with his constitution ; he exceedingly longs to find a habitation somewhere near these parts, especially while his father lives ; though his mother seems somewhat more reconciled to him, since his old uncle has left him such a large portion of money and estates. Mer. But Sir, could Mr. Lovely prevail on Mr. _Saveall to lend you the pulpit for the Sunday ? Loveg. Oh no Sir ; there was plenty of objections started against that attempt. He first said, he did not see the use of paying another for doing his duty, as he could do it himself. And when that difficulty was obyiated, that no money would be needed ; the . ) next was, that “it was very wrong to encourage a modern set of ministers to do duty for nothing, when the laborer is worthy of his hire.” Mer. Yes; and that is the way these hirelings per- 166 DIALOGUE XXXII. vert the word of God. He forgot to quote, how happy Paul, and the rest of the Apostles were, when they had it in their power to preach Christ, without tes bur- densome to the people. Wor. Ah, that doctrine stands in a part of the Bible they do not want to read. But what other ob- jections could he have? Loveg. Why, that I could be so weak as to go gadding about with that young man, who was so foolish as to spatter about his money, which Mr, Al- derman Greedy had collected together with so much frugality ; and that this was bringing a sad disgrace on the memory of the worthy Alderman, who was the father of the corporation ; though he rather thought in some instances of frugality, he might have overshot the mark. And further, that at a private meeting of the corporation over a dish of sprats, sheep’s trotters, and other such rarities, (though while they could feast themselves at the public expence, they were liberal enough :) Mr. Frugal, the present mayor, agreed that Mr, Lovely’s conduct was an unpardonable offence. Alderman Stingey was also of the same opinion, and Mr. Closefist, the town-clerk, entirely agreed with them ; though it seems Mr. Closefist, at times, affects even te be generous, aud boasts of his numerous ap- plications ; and now and then gives away a trifle; as he finds it for his interest to be liberal, that he may thereby, not only avail himself of the custom of the people of the town, but take in those also that are not among its original natives. He is of the family of the Longheads, and is himself, supposed to be one of the most long-headed of any of that famous family: he is a pocr thin-looking fellow, and seems to be made up of nothing, but low cunning, and mean designs, _ Wor. What a strange set they all are! However amongst them all, it seems you were to be kept out of the pulpit. I wonder you were not almost deter- mined to act like our good old reformation bishops, and preach out in the street, upon this text, “ Ye cannot serve God and mammon,” LOVELY'’S BENEVOLENCE. 167 | Loveg. I do not know what my dear honest friend Mr. Slapdash might have done, had he been in my | situation. | Mer. 1 am sure you shewed very little of your con-— | stitutional timidity, when you preached your visitation sermon: butitis a terrible calamity that people should be left in such a state, and with such a teacher, to | keep them all quiet and contented in their sins. | Loveg. Why Mr. Lovely, at one time thought of | hinting it to Mr. Saveall, that if he would let Mr. Goodman be the curate, he would secretly pay the salary for him ; but his pride and enmity will never | let him submit to that. At another time he thought | of building them a chapel, and sending some good /man to preach among them: but it is a sad soil for | the gospel ; the cares of the world, would be very apt to choke the seed in that town. | Mer. Did you not preach in any church on the | Sunday ?- | Loveg. Oh yes Sir, I went to Fairficld with Mr. | Lovely, to see his father, who seems to be one of a very | excellent mind and temper, and he obtained leave of : the pulpit from Dr. Nescience at a word ; for it seems they at once put me into his good graces by saying, I was a man of learning, and this pleased him hugely. | Poor thing! he happens to be one of the most stupid conceited ‘pedants, Lever met with in my life. | Wor. Had you an interview with him? _ Loveg. Sir, Mr. Lovely’s father invited him to sup ' with us ; and at once he began saying, how delighted he was to be acquainted with men of learning, and _ how glad he should be, if I had but time to see some af his animadversasions, (as he called them,) on the book of Tobit, and on Bell and the Dragon, which he meant to publish ; but that now the world was: / grown so ignorant, that he could find no publisher who _ would venture to undertake the work, _ Wor. Why to be sure, the little Doctor is half mad. | _ Loveg, Quite so, I should rather apprehend, if | what some have observed be true, “ A little learning | if 68 DIALOGUE XXXJ. makes a man mad, while a deal of it will bring him back again into his senses.” But withwhat astonishing rapidity he ran on, with his curious expressions, and hard words! many of which he murdered as bad as the former. However, in the course of our conversa- tion, I found he had been a great student in all the whimsical nonsense that had found its way into thé world, through the crazy brains of Jacob Behmen, Count Swedenburgh, and others, by which means he had almost been deprived of the small share of sense that nature had bestowed upon him. And one night, they say, while he was sitting up, reading these visi- onary authors, he was overtaken with the cramp, upon which he immediately ran up stairs to Mrs. Nescienga™ crying that he was sure he was bewitched. Wor. How in the*world could you answer this whimsical Doctor ? Loveg. Sir, it was impossible to answer him ; down- right nonsense never can be answered ; so that I did nothing but hum and hah, and say yes, and no, while Mr. Lovely, did all in his power to put another turn upon the conversation. Mer. But Sir, how did it fare with you on the Sunday? Eoveg. Why, during the summer months, it seems they have two sermons, and I thought I should have been permitted to preach them both ; but after he had heard my morning sermon, urging the necessity of a divine change, and recommending according to the best of my ability, the need of a personal application to our Lord Jesus Christ, that this blessed work might be accomplished, through the operation of his Holy Spirit: the little Doctor skipt about in his gown and cassock, like a jumping joan, saying, that with my ‘leave, he should preach himself in the afternoon, and that he was sure he could confute all I said in the morning ; for that he-could not bear to hear the true religion he preached, contradicted before all the people. Wor. Consequently you were under the necessity, of giving up the point, LOVELY’S DEPARTURE. 169 , Loveg. Yes Sir; I told him I should be open to conviction, and said how willing I should be to read prayers for him, as in reading them, I was satisfied I should neither wound my conscience, nor contradict my sermon. Mer. And what sort of a sermon did he give you? _ Loveg. Oh Sir, Mr. Lovely’s father remembers that the little Doctor had given it them three or four times before. Wor. What was the substance of it? Loveg. Why, first he began stammering and stu.- _ tering over a few lines, which he went home purposely _ to compose, by way of prefixing a few new thoughts as a preface to his old sermon ; and though these were written down, yet he was so terribly out of temper, from what he had heard in the morning, that he ap- peared much more like a man bewitched, than when he was seized with the cramp. Wor. Do let us hear the drift of the Doctor’s ser- mon. J'll warrant it was a curious performance. Loveg. Indeed Sir it was. He first pretended to rove that we were all made Christians by baptism. Then that we were confirmed in our Christianity, when we were confirmed by the Bishop. And lastly, _ we were perfected in our Christianity, by receiving the holy sacrament: and this he said, was better than the strange notions that some people were fond of preach- ing up, about regeneration and inspiration, which he said, must be all false doctrine ; because that if we were inspired, we could work miracles ; making no difference between the extraordinary operations of the divine Spirit, and the implantation of the divine na- ture, which must exist in every real Christian, to the latest ages of the world. Mer. One wonders that people can be so ignorant, as to suppose that a mere outward ordinance, how- ever good in its place, will do as a substitute for that new and divine nature, mentioned so frequently in the word of God. _ Loveg. Why Sir, I was told by Mr. Lovely, that VOL. Il. Q 170 DIALOGUE XXXI. when the Doctor had to preach the visitation sermon before the Bishop, he outdid all the nonsense that was ever before exhibited in a pulpit. Mer. What was the specimen of divinity he ex- hibited on that occasion ? Loveg. It may be necessary that you should first hear the text, before I tell you the application of it: «* Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual eer in heavenly places in Christ,” Eph, i. 3. Mer. In the name of wonder, and of common sense, what could. he, what could any man make out from that text, but 10 exemplify the high state of spiritua- lity, to which, believers are called by the grace, and spirit of the gospel ? Loveg. In these instances, I believe wonders will never cease ; for he first profoundly remarked, that the clergy were the people who were, ‘sitting in hea- venly places in Christ ;” and then observed, ‘that their office itself, so operated upon them, that if they were bad men before they were in holy orders, yet when once they were promoted to one: of these heavenly Lia in Christ Jesus, they must in course be made g00 Mer. What by a sort of spiritual legerdemain I suppose ; however that was not the case with me. But how did he prove this egregious nonsense? Loveg. You know there is no proving nonsense; but he first observed that the clergy, when they chris- tened the children, could not but be reminded thereby of their own baptismal vows, and that prevented their breaking them: that visiting the sick, and burying the dead, would also remind them of their mortality ; and that would render it impossible for them to lead wicked lives ; and as to administering the holy sacra- ment, that could not but operate as a charm to make them holy too ; and that reading the prayers and les- sons, as appointed in the service of the church, must remind them of their duty, and direct them in the practice of it; and thus they were all, from their mere office, made good. LOVELY’S DEPARTURE. val Mer. Is it possible that he could believe his own nonsense, when so directly contrary to matters of fact ! Loveg. Whether he, or others believed it I cannot tell; it seems however, that so he preached: and though the Doctor has the misfortune to be a remarkably high churchman, insomuch, that when he came to consider the religion of the country from whence he purchased his diploma, he could scarce sleep for three nights to- gether, on account of the evils he apprehended from his Presbyterian degree ; yet when he preached his famous visitation sermon, he was liberal in the ex- treme ; for though he said it was certain, that the religion of the established clergy was the best that could be, and must therefore make them the best men ; yet he supposed the religion of the Dissenting clergy made them guvod also, though it could not be admitted that it made them so good as the church clergy.* . Wor. What contemptible popish trash ! but I wish you would tell us something better worth our hear- ing, than this strange nonsense. How did you finish the day ? Loveg. Sir, young Mr. Lovely begged f might do with them as I do at your house, expound a chapter, and give them a prayer; and I trust it was not with- out the divine blessing. The only person who ap- peared dissatisfied, as it was new work to them all, was the old lady. She is terribly afraid 1 shall make her son “righteous over much ;” and has strange ap- prehensions, if that be the case, he will squander ~ away all his money, by giving it among the poor. - Wor. She has quite the family failing then. Loveg. I fear she and Mr. Lovely’s father, though married, were never matched ; she is perpetually tor- ‘menting the servant about wearing out mops too fast, drinking too much small beer, and wasting the brown ‘sugar ; spending so much for provisions on the dog * An epitome of a sermon which the author heard at a Visitation. 172 DIALOGUE XNXXi. and cat, suffering themselves to be cheated by pur- chasing’ such small half-penny-worths of sand; so that their maid-servants are seldom with her longer than when they have seen about two or three full moons, and then they are off; but as to Mr. Love- iy’s father, all these poor cast-offs gave him the bess of ‘characters, wherever they went. Mrs. Wor. No wonder that Mrs. Lovely should keep back from going with her husband to see such a mother-in-law, though they loved each other so much. Wor. I suppose he returned on the Monday ? Loveg. Yes Sir; and on the Wednesday, when IL had engaged to return, Mr. Lovely requested me to accept fifty pounds for 1.y travelling expences. I immediately told him that ¥ should feel like a down- right Gehazi, Elisha’s mercenary servant, if I accepted more than was necessary to hring me back to my own’ door: however he would not let me come away with less than twenty pounds, and before my arrival the other thirty were sent, in a most affectionate letter, as a present to my eldest daughter, with a hope soon to meetagain. After this Mr. Lovegood further related a conversation he had on his return in the stage to Brookfield, with old Dame Gossiper, who was very. religious in her way, and who hoped to be saved by the help of ‘“‘her church, her parson, and her good God :” but as the writer has scarcely any time to compose these Dialogues, except at a late hour when all is silent, he wishes to drop a conversation: some- what less interesting, while nature demands its ac~ customed rest. ; THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. Two days after Mr. Lovegood’s retnrn from Mr. Lovely’s, the intended union between Mr. Merryman and Miss Worthy took place. The event soon transpired in all the neighbourhood, and they were saluted with the following hymn, accompanied with instrumental! music: In Paradise the joy began, When male and female both were one; Their hearts entwin’d in mutual love, Their mutual joy was love above. Let this fond pair, enrich’d with grace, Like clusters rich from Canaan’s vine, Be blest with all his love and power, Who tarn’d the water into wine. With gifts and grace their hearts endow, Of all rich dow’ries far the best: Their substance bless, and peace bestow, And that shall sweeten all the rest. A. "ax ME he [26 y A INS She er See: C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. DIALOGUE XXXII. MR. WORTHY AND FAMILY, MR. CONSIDERATE, AND THOMAS NEWMAN, THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. ACCORDING to the hint given in the former *~ Dialogue, the reader must now be informed, that two days after Mr. Lovegood’s return from the Love- lys, the intended union between Mr. Merryman and Miss Worthy took place. As the reporter of these events was not at the wedding, much information from him cannot be expected on that subject. From the feelings of female delicacy, it was the wish of Miss Worthy that the marriage should be solemnized with all possible secrecy ; and in order to accomplish this, the family went to the church with Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovegood, apparently with a design to see about a gallery that was erecting for the children of the sunday school, and some other accommodations, that the poor might be better seated, who so plentifully crowd the aisles. And while the carpenters were gone to their breakfast, old Andrew Snufile, the Clerk, was ordered to attend at a moment's warning, and then the marriage ceremony was performed. They next retired to Brookfield Hall, when a very appro- priate prayer for a blessing on the union, was offered up by Mr. Loyegood. Though this event was thus performed in seeret, yet it was not the wish of the family that it should be xept asecret. Old Andrew went directly to the ring- ers, who began gingling the bells as well as they could; 174 DIALOGUE XX XY. though one of them being cracked, and another of them having lately lost its clapper, the music of the steeple was but a coarse exhibition of the people’s joy. Sel- dom had Mr. Lovégood an ill word from any of his parishioners ; but on this event the ringers were almost angry with him for having opposed the repair of the bells ; but he well knew, that this sort of music was frequently a temptation to disorderly conduct. Mr. Worthy was also of the same opinion, being entirely satisfied that a better set of bells could never be wanted to call the people to public worship, while the best bell in the Church, (referring to the pulpit,) was so thoroughly sound, and had in it such an excellent clapper, to charm the ears and hearts of all, who had grace to attend on its melodious sound. . Mr. Worthy therefore, having sent to the ringers the accustomed compliment, requesting them and the rest of the inhabitants of the village, to keep the testimony of their joy within proper limits, on that happy event, especially as the bride and bridegroom were going off for Sandover directly; and that if they would wait for their return in about a fortnight, when they were 1o come and pass a few days at Brookfield Hall, he would then, on the condition of their orderly behavior, invite them to partake of a marriage feast at his own house; and as a word from Mr. Worthy, was always a law throughout the village. Many cheerful blessings were pronounced on the union, all having one and the same wish, that the family of the Worthys might be built up in all its collateral branches; and that from age to age, they might be a blessing to the country, wherever “ the bounds of their habitations might be fixed.” Though the precise time of this intended union was known to none at Sandover but Mr. Merryman’s servants, yet immediately on their arrival, thoggh in the evening of the day, the event soon transpired through all the neighbourhood ; and Mr. Merryman had scarcely finished his family prayer, when they were saluted with the following hymn, accompanied * = THE HAPPY MARRIAGE, 175 with instrumental music, and sung by some cf his affectionate parishioners, in the court-yard of his rectory house. ‘ THE HYMN. Tw Paradise the joy began, When male,and female both were one; Their hearts entwin’d in mutual love, Their mutual joy was love alone. But ah ! lamented be the day, When man forsook the God of love ; Till Christ the second Adam came, And brought salvation from above. Tnyited to the marriage feast, The Holy Savior grac’d the day; There his first miracle he wrought, That thence he might his power display. Let this fond pair, enrich’d with grace, Like clusters rich from Canaan’s vine, Be bless’d with all his love and pow’r, Who turn’d the water into wine. Witness their marriage, dearest Lord, Emblem of thy uniting grace ; One with each other, one with thee, For ever bless them, “‘ Prince of Peace.” Upon the bridal pair look down, Who now have plighted heart and hands, Their union with thy favor crown, And bless, O bless, the nuptial bands. With gifts and grace their hearts endow, Of all rich dowries far the best : Their substance bless, and peace bestow, And that shall sweeten all the rest. True helpmates in the heav’nly road, O may dey tread the paths of life ! Those peaceful paths so far remote, From all the rugged ways of strife. As Isaac and Rebecca gave A pattern mild, and chaste, and kind: So may this new-met couple live As one, in constant union join’d. 176 DIALOGUE XXXII. Many were inquisitive to know from whence these good people procured their poetry, while some were of opinion that it was the production of Mr. Love- good, written on a former marriage occasion, and which had got into circulation by having been trans- cribed by different persons : yet others judged that it was somewhat below the general pitch of his poetry and that it might more probab’y have been the pro- duction of a Mrs. Rhymer, who lived in those parts, and to whom Mr. Merryman’s ministry had been made very useful. But that we may deal upon uncertainties and conjectures no longer, the reader shall have other articulars in a dialogue, which took place between Mr. Worthy and family, a and our old favourite Thomas Newman, who had been to Sandover with his eldest daughter ‘Betty, the day after the marriage, that she might attend as a servant on Mrs, Merryman ; and where Thomas himself had been detained, that he might help Mr. Merryman with a little of his advice, as it respected the management of his glebe, and some other little husbandry concerns, which he now found necessary te undertake upon his settlement in a family way. —= = [Thomas is introduced. ] Tho. Your servant your honor ; I have a letter to your honor, from Madam Merryman. [Mr. Worthy reads the letter, and hands it to Mrs. Worthy. | Wor. Well Thomas, I perceive my daughter and her husband are very well—sit down, I want to have some conversation with you about them. * Tho. With your honor’s leave, I had rather stand. I should be ashamed to sit down before your honor. Wor. Nay, nay, Thomas, you must sit down; I shall have many questions to ask, and you must be tired ; for you have had a long walk from Sandover. [After much persuasion, Thomas sits down at a THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. 177 modest distance from his honor; for Thomas reads his Bible, and that directs him to “give honor to whom honor is due ;” while the truly honorable Mr. Worthy, is as wisely instructed to “‘ condescend to men of Tow estate.” Wor. Well, and what do the people of Sandover think of Mr. Merryman, for having taken my daugh- ter away from me! Tho. Ah dear, your honor! why the people at Sandover are delighten to admiration at the match. Mrs. Wor. I am glad they are Thomas ; I am thoroughly persuaded my daughter will do all in her power to make a good wife, and a Orie minister's wife. Tho. Why Madam, the very day after her mar- riage, she went with that dear gentleman, and for sure he is a precious soul! and visited ever so many poor folk about the parish, and gave something wherever she went. | Mrs. Wor. She told us, that she should want no _ fine wedding clothes in going to Sandover : and that she had rather, when she came there, lay out that -monéy among the poor, that she might put a little © decent clothing on their backs, for that they needed it more than what she did. __ Tho. Why madam, I never saw a people so happy _in all my born days, as the people at Sandover were, _when they saw such ahumble good young lady, walk- ing about in such a plain way and dress; while some foolish, proud folk supposed that your honor would “have sent her home in a coach and six, and that there should have been bonfires, and nobody knows what | fine things besides. _* Wor. Indeed Thomas, had we acted such a part, the old proverb had been true against us, “‘ A fool ,and his money are soon parted.” But I hope my | daughter will prove a very useful helpmate to that _ good young minister. Tho. ’Las your honour, you cannot tell how they | \ | i | talk of Mr. Merr yman all the parish over, and what 178 DIALOGUE XXXI1 . stories the people tell of his humble, and good na- tured ways: though “Squire Wild, that lives in his parish, never comes to hear him; but orders that his pew should be locked up, that none of the poor peo- ple, who come from far, should go into his pew: and so good Mr. Merryman. has ordered a pair uf steps to be made, that people may get over into the ’Squire’s pew, because he did not chuse to break the lock; but he says nobody has a right to lock up their pews, if they won’t come there themselves. And so the people can get over very well, and then the rest of the poor people sit upon the steps. "Squire Wild was great enough with Mr. Merryman, while they were all living together i in the same wicked way; and now and then he would come to Church, but he would do nothing but laugh and jeer with Madam Wild and his daugh- ters all the time: and now he says every thing that he can think of, against Mr. Merryman, poor dear young gentleman ! Wor. Thatis not at all to be wondered at Thomas, while “the carnal mind is enmity against God.” But Mr. Merryman is quite in the right of it, no family should lock up a pew if they do not fill it themselves; though he does very wisely in opposing bad measures with as much mildness as he can. But did not the people want to be feasted upon the occasion ? Tho. Oh no your honor! Mr. Merryman said he should make no feast but for the poor: and so he sent five guineas to the bakers, to be given away among such poor, as he and the overseers might think fit. Wor. Only five guineas Thomas! Tho. Why your honor, I thought that was a des- perate big sum; but then he ordered five guineas more to be sent to the butchers, that a bit of meat might be given to every poor man, that was to haye the loaf of bread. His heart is wonderfully set on doing good. Wor. Why Thomas, the only proof that we are good, is when we are enabled by the grace of God to do good : every tree is known alone by its fruits. THE HAPPY MARRIAGE, 178 But Mr. Merryman tells us he kept you all Friday and Saturday, talking about his little husbandry affairs, and that he would make you stop over the Sunday ; how did poor Betty do without yon all the time? Tho. Why to be sure, Betty and I never were so long away from each other since we have been mar- ried, and now it is fourteen years, come a fortnight after next Mapieton fair day. It seemed to us a longful time to be apart; and we both of us found it desperate hard work to part with our poor daughter ; but there she is gone to a charming place ; and 5 young Madam Merryman takes to her wonderfully. The Lord bless the child, and give her grace! Wor. Aye Thomas, that sets all right, and keeps all right : but how is it that you cannot bear to part with your children, when you have so many of them? Tho. The Lord be praised, we have none too many ! Betty and I have always noticed it, the more we have of them, the more the Lord blesses us. Whenever we seem to bea little sharp ran, one good body or another, besides your honor, is always send- ing us something ; we want nothing but thankful hearts. Wor. Why as Mr. Lovely’s great uncle has left him his fortune, he talks of taking your eldest son Thomas off your hands. Tho. To be sure, it is very kind of the young gen- tleman. Edward of the Golden Lion, has told me adeal about him. But it will be a desperate hard gripe for me and Betty to part with him. How moyingly he talked about a sermon our minister preached a few Sundays ago, upon the wise and foolish virgins !* Dear child, he was quite in tears, while he was saying how much afraid he was, lest he should be among the foolish virgins? and Betty and I were as much overcome at his ‘talk as he was. Wor. Well Thomas, this should give you encou- _ #* This must certainly have been the same sermon that so much offended Mr. Lovely, see Dialogue XXI. 180 DIALOGUE XXXII, ragement to bring up your children ‘in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” Tho. Why I'll assure your honor, that Betty, who is gone to live with Madam Merryman, is a very pretty spirited child: though little Sammy is a mighty stomachful boy ; but by the Lord’s blessing, he nee get better as he gets older. Wor. But Thomas, if Mr. Lovely should ever chuse to take your son, you must not object to it. TI have no doubt but it will be the making of him, if he turns out well. Tho. Oh no; if the young Squire should chuse to take him; I shall be sure to follow your honor’s ad- vice, and let him go: though they say he lives a desperate way off, almost half as far as London. Mrs. Wor. But Thomas, how did you like Mr Merryman on the Sunday ? Tho. Like him, Madam! Who could but chuse to like him : excepting Mr. Lovegood, I think he must be one of the finest men in all the world. Wor. 1suppose there was a fine crowd to see Mr. Merryman bring his bride to Chureh, for the first time, Tho. Why your honor knows itis always crowded; for Rector Grumble of the next parish, has been preaching such scolding sermons against moderp *thusists, that he has driven all the people away. Some of them go off to a Dissenting meeting, where they say a very good man preaches, and a great ma x: more of them come to Mr. Merryman’s Church ; an yet Rector Grumble keeps scolding at the empty pong as bad as ever. Mrs. Wor. T hope Mr. Merryman does not scold in return. Tho. He scold, dear gentleman! It would bea hard matter to set him a scolding. He has such a sweet loving heart of his own, since it has been changed by the yrace of God! but to be sure the Church was wonderfully crowded. Iam sure it was mighty moving: I never was so affected in all my born days. THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. i8j Mrs. Wor. What was so moving Thomas? _ Tho. Why madam, there was such a wonderfa! fine garland placed over the gate of the church-yard, and on the side of it, there was a writing in great large letters, ‘God bless the happy pair!” and on the other side, ‘Long live the family of the Worthys!” and ‘then your honor, there was over the garland a paint- ing like two hands taking hold of each other, and holding two hearts joined together; and out of the two hearts, there was a flame of fire, and in that flame there was a writing, in these words, “ God is love.” And as soon as Mr. Merryman and his lady came into the church, the singers struck up with sucha charming fine hymn, I don’t think Mr. Levegood could have made a better. Wor. Why, perhaps Mr. Lovegood made it Tho- mas, for he was in the secret about the marriage: but we haveseen a copy of it. Tho. 1t was the same hymn your honor, that they sung in the court yard, the night Mr. Merryman and madam came home. And then the singers would have me with them, to help them to pitch the tune; but instead of singing, alas your honor! the sight of it so much affected me, in seeing the people stand up, as though they were all praying for a blessing on them, at the same time, it made me quite cry for joy if it had been King George, and Queen Charlotte, the ee could not have given them more honor. The rd grant that they may be as happy as Betty and I Mrs. Wor. I should suppose all this love, and affection from the good people, was enough io overset my daughter. Tho. Why madam, I heard, when she came into _her pew, she was so overcome, that she had almost _ Swounded away. | Wor. Well Thomas, I have put my daughter into very good hands ; and what is best of all, I trust they are both in the hands of the Lord. | Tho. Ah! but your honor knows, that he was not in the hands of the Lord bein he heard our dear VOL. ‘I. i 1&2 DIALOGUE XXXII. ininister at the visitation, and when he was running after ail sorts of romancing nonsenses. And now there are some folk who can scarcely help making their sports at him, though he lives such a different life, from what he did in his wicked uaregenerate days. | Wor. Why has any one been laughing at him of late? ' Tho. Why they say old Mr. Quibble, the lawyer, met him the other day, while he was carrying a poor old woman’s basket on his horse, because she ap- peared so weak, that she could not carry it herself, while she was walking along the road to market; and there lawyer Quibble, they say, made such a jeering and joking at him for it, when he was at Squire Wild’s. But such sort of hard-hearted lawyers have no conceivance what the tender-hearted ministers of Christ feel, when they see their fellow creatures in such distress. Mrs. Wor. Well, well, Thomas, we shall not be ashamed of our son-in-law for such easy, good-natur- ed tricks as these ; but did he not want you and your family to come over and live at Sandover, to take care of his gardens and little farming concerns? You might render them a deal of service, and I am sure they would be very kind to you. Tho. Ah madam! that I am sure he would; bu then there is my dear old master, and my mistress. Sometimes I hope the Lord will change her heart, for she is wonderfully different to what she was. And then there is Master Henry, and Miss Nancy, and it is to admiration how kind they all behave to me and Betty: and then there is our dear minister. Why madam, [ never can think of leaving Brookfield parish, while he preaches in the church. Wor. Oh no Thomas, we have no inclination to: nart with you, though my son-in-law might be all the better for it; besides, I hope we shall have some church preferment for you by and by. It is much more likely that you should be clerk of the parish, than THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. 183 that Mr. Lovegood should be archbishop of Canter- bury.* I believe we must soon put off poor old An- drew Snuiile with a pension. He makes sad blunders, and you know he frequently puts our minister out shockingly ; at times he cries Amen in the middle of a prayer; and when my daughter was married, he mis- took the business, and began answering to the office of: the churching of women. Tho. Ah poor. Andrew! his femiae is very bad ; and his eyes are got very dim: but how shall such a poor creature as I am, stand up in such a place? Though to be sure it would be a rare help to Betty and our children. {Servant enters. ] Serv. Sir, Mr. and Miss Considerate are come to wait upon you. {They enter, and Thomas retires, after returnmg many thanks for having received two half-crowns, the one from Mr. and the other from Mrs. Worthy, and an order to be well fed in the kitchen. | Consid. Sir, I am come with my daughter to wait upon you with our hearty congratulations, on the happy marriage which has taken place in your fa- mily. Mr.and Mrs. Wor. We heartily thank you Sir; pray be seated. Is Mrs. Considerate well? | Consid. Very well, I thank you Sir: but if I may be allowed to tell a family secret, in our little way, it unfortunately happens to be washing week ; and this is a season of great importance in little families. She supposes therefore, that°as my daughter came with me, that her superintendance will be needed at home ; otherwise she would have walked with us. She means however, very soon to pay her respects to you on this happy event. © _ Wor. Mrs. Consderate has at all times been a notable Martha. * See Dialegue VIL S42 DIALOGUE XXXH. Consid. Yes Sir, and since she has become a truly spiritual Mary, she bas continued not less a notable Martha. Sheis always frugal and industrious, though never mean: while she is prudent and saving, she is just, generous, and kind. Wor. Sir, it is your mercy to have such a wife. Consid. Sir, a wife is either the best or the worst piece of furniture a man can possibly possess. a Wor. We have frequently heard, that her charac- ter is that of a most liberal oeconomist: by all ac- — counts, I do not know what her poor neighbours would do without her. It is said, that she can make the richest caudle, and cook the best broth, and — patch up the greatest quantity of old clothes, at the cheapest rate, of any person in the parish, for the — good of her poor neighbours, Consid. Indeed Sir she can; though by her nota- bleness she coaxes many a shilling out of my pocket ; but while she is such a conscientious, yet generous ceconomist, I lose nothing by all she gives ; and what- ever she does, is done with cheerfulness! I never saw her melancholy but once, and that was enough to make us both melancholy, when we lost our two sons by being both drowned in the river, at the same time. Mrs. Wor. Ah dear Sir! though we were not ac- quainted with each other in those days, yet we sin- cerely sympathized with you. Consid. Oh madam! It was enough to break our hearts; two more promising children never lived ; and surely never were two brothers known to be more affectionately fond of each other. Indeed this was the cause of the catastrophe ; for my eldest son seeing — that his brother had got out of his depth, and was erying for help, unfortunately plunged in after him with all his clothes on; and was carried down the stream with him, when they both sunk together in a deep hole, under some willows that overhung tlie bank. 'To see two such lovely, alert children, that had left my house but an hour before, full of all that © WY = De Co SHE ERY. S > we bi \ Wao “ 5) Mee °@, wr =e su ae Se cs 3) ee? ey aco ‘Oieeua Y WED OAR) Ow } Woe BE Sa ee OG) Door ¥ MR. CONSIDERATE’S TWO CHILDREN DROWNED. 2 eS “‘T never saw her melancholy but once, and that was enough to S make us both melancholy, when we lost our two dear sons by the same A SJ event, when they were both drowned in the river. My eldest son, see- ing his younger brother had got out of his depth, and was crying for help, unfortunately plunged in after him with all his clothes on, and Was carried dowu the stream with him, when they both sunk together in a deep hole, under some willows that overhung the bank.” Dial. xxvii. 53. C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. isd vivacity and life which belongs to youth, brought ‘home breathless, and stretched on the same board— Oh Sir !——[Mr. Considerate weeps. | Wor. Bat it seems Sir, it was that calamity which first brought Mrs. Considerate to seek after the con- solation of the Gospel. Consid. Yes Sir, I trust this heavy judgment has been overruled in much mercy to us both; for while we still continued very much dejected by our loss, our kind neighbours did all they could, in their way, to revive our spirits, by inviting us to their tea-tables and card-parties; but alas! im vain. We did not then know, under the loss of both our beloved Isaacs, as we had no other child left but our daughter, that we wanted an Abraham’s faith to support us. Wor. Ah Sir! we get but poor consolation from any other quarter; it requires more than is to be found in nature under such circumstances, meekly to say, “‘ Thy will be done.” Consid. Why Sir, for atime I foolishly thought I could console my mind from natural reasons and mo- ral philosophy ; and it was just then Mr. Lovegood sent us that excellent little treatise upon affliction,* entitled “‘ Correction, Instruction ; or the Rod and the - Word ;” together with a consolatory letter, written with such modest tenderness and humility, as very much captivated my wife and daughter, while T had _ too good an opinion of my own understanding, to suppose I needed any instructions from him; yet I could not but at the same time, love and admire his design. Wor. But 1 think Sir, it was this event that first brought Mrs. Considerate and your daughter io _ Brookfield church ? Consid. Yes Sir, and I found they were soon in- structed in the lesson of meek and humble submission to the will of God, which I had still to learn; and it * Written by Mr. Thomas Case, one of the ejected ministers, and recommended by Dr. Manton, of which a new edition has been lately published, 186 DIALOGUE XXXII. was a long time before shame would let me go with them, though I never opposed. The preaching and conduct of Mr. Dolittle, gave me but a poor opinion of ‘the religion he professed. Well Sir, though it has been the will of God to deprive me of my future ex- pectations, by taking from me two such dear children, yet may your daughter, and newly adopted son, long live to be a blessing to their neighbourhood! I really trust this will prove a happy event to many, thongh it is probable Mrs. Merryman, from her situation in life, might in some respects have formed a more ad- vantageous connexion for herself. . Wor. Why, we esteem it a very happy connexion, when the better side of the question is taken into consideration ; for between friends, my daughter had a very handsome offer from young Mr. Gay ; and I was highly pleased with her conduct on this occasion. The moral character of Gay is quite unexceptionable, his fortune is ample, and in many respects he is a very desirable young man: but then his connexions are quite in the world, and he himself is not averse to what are improperly called the innocent amusements, or rather gaities of life. Miss Consid. Yes Sir, she was pleased to give - a hint that she had received such a proposal ; but said, however in other respects she might like him, yet, as it regarded religious matters, she thought they never could be happy with each other. Wor. Why we perceived that for some days there was a strong struggle upon her mind, till she broke it to us, with a full determination not to attend to it: and for a considerable time, we have discovered a much stronger bias towards Mr. Merryman. Consid. Sir, I think nobody can wonder at that: since he has been blessed with the grace of God, he is become a very amiable youth. All that know him, one would think, would cry concerning him, “ ice hath God wrought !” Wor. This made us determine to leave the young people to the leadings of their own minds. ‘What THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. 187 she loses in point of affluence, I am satisfied, by the blessing of God, she will gain in point of hap- piness. - Consid. Sir, if God preserve their lives, I have no doubt but that the union will be attended with his blessing. We have nothing to do but to follow the wise rules which we find in our Bibles, and that will assuredly prove the ready way to lappiness. When people are unequally yoked in any connexions in life, especially in the marriage state, they may depend upon it, they will make themselves miserable through life. I cannot but think that Miss Worthy has acted apart, as you observe, highly commendable to her character. If she should be the less affluent, 1 am sure she will be a thousand times more happy with Mr. Merryman, than ever she could have been with Mr. Gay. Wor. She will doubtless be called to move ina more humble sphere; yet therein she will be much more likely to be protected and preserved. ‘Thomas Newman, who just left the room as you came in, has been giving us a very pleasing narration, how they were both received at Sandover on the day of their marriage. Consid. Ah Sir! I have heard all about it. The people of Sandover think themselves very happy on the occasion, though Mr. Spiteful of Mapleton, goes about from house to house, railing at the match like a madman. Wor. What is that to him ? Consid. True Sir ; but I think he would burst if he had not now and then an opportunity to vent his spleen ; he has got hold of the old stale cry, which is indeed promiscuously levelled against all religious people that Mr. Merryman is a Jacobin, and is con- _ triving all he can to overturn the Church and State ; and that all the canting tribe, round about the coun- try, are secretly combined together in the same plot, by Sunday schools, and other religious exertions; while [hope truly religious people are better taught than 188 DIALOGUE XXXII. to interrupt the state, especially while the state never interrupts them. Wor. I do not believe there is a man living, more attached to the government of his country than Mr, Merryman. But let Mr. Spiteful rail on, for nobody believes him; I question if he believes himself.— Such persons can do no harm, but as they do harm to themselves. } Consid. But Sir, did you hear what a fine speech poor Thomas Newman made use of to him, when he took it into his head to banter the poor man, while he had some of his master’s cattle to attend to at the last Mapleton fair? Wor. What was that, Sir? Consid. Why Six, Farmer Snakish and Mr. Spite- ful, who are pansies german, came both of them te- gether to the upper green, where you know the fair for cattle is kept, and seeing poor Thomas, who was there attending upon the sale of his master’s property; they came up to him, and began talking about the price of cattle ; but more with a design to banter him, than to deal with him. They next began sneering at Thomas about his young master, how he came to runaway from home so soon after his miraculous con- version, and whether it was not after some of his old wicked tricks. ’ Wor. What could they mean by that? Consid. Oh Sir, they had got hold of the story of Mr. Henry Littleworth’s design in his journey to Lecksbury, and this was their way of interpreting it, After this they began with their insulting speeches against Mr. Lovegood, laughing at Mrs. Chipman’s miraculous conversion, and insinuating as though it was only a trick between her and Mr. Lovegood. Then they began making their bitter remarks on Mr. Merryman, saying that the top and bottom of his con- version, appeared now to be nothing but craft, that he might contrive to get your daughter for his wife. Thomas replied, that he was well persuaded such a conversion could never have been accomplished but by THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. 189 the great God himself; adding, that it would be a greater miracle still, if God would convert either of them. Upon this, old Spiteful cried, “‘ The great God ! What do you know of the great God? 1 sup- pose Parson Lovegood has made you so wise, that you can tell us how great God is, and how little God is, and all about it.” Wor. To say the least of it, this sort of banter was horridly profane. Consid. But Thomas’s answer was remarkably to the purpose.—He paused and said, “ Yes Sir, I ean tell you, both how great God is, and how little God is.” Spiteful cried—“< Ah, I thought Lovegood had made a clever fellow of you : but let us hear it.” — Thomas answered, ‘Though he is so great, that even the heaven of heavens cannot contain him, being the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, and who dwelleth in the light which no man can approach unto, and which no man hath seen nor can see: yet he is so little, that he can dwell in the hearts of the humble and the contrite; and take up his gracious abode, even in such a poor unworthy sinner as myself.” —= = While Mr. Considerate and Mr. Worthy were thus inconversation, Lord Rakish’s carriage drove up tothe door, with their congratulations on this event. Mr. Worthy rang the bell immediately, and ordered his boots, that he might appear as if he were going out, that his Lordship might think it necessary to shorten his visit. Mr. Considerate was very glad to make his escape from the interview, while the poor flimsy con- versation of his Lordship would be as uninteresting to the reader to peruse, as it would be unpleasant for the writer to relate. Nor has he time to give a minute account of what took place, at the promised marriage- feast at Brookfield-Hall. Let it suffice, that it was conducted with that liberality, yet decency and sobri- ety, which are the standing orders of the house. Some yery appropriate hymns were sung ; an exhortation 190 DIALOGUE XXXII. was given by Mr. Lovegood, principally upon the duties of the marriage state; while he still kept up his constant rule, never to expatiate upon moral du- ties, but upon gospel principles. Thus the writer concludes the present Dialogue, with an additional request to his young readers, that whenever they may be called in providence into the marriage state, they would not forget (at least) to take this leaf out of his book; that their marriage may be conducted with the like solemnity, and equally in the fear of God. DIALOGUE XXXilIl. MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS. “AN ACCOUNT OF THE MINISTERIAL CHARACTERS OF MR. DELIBERATE, AND MR. LEGAL-DEFINITION: TO- GETHER WITH A FURTHER NARRATION OF THE AF- FAIRS OF MRS. CHIPMAN, AND THE RESULT OF MR. LOVEGOOD’S VISIF TO LOCKSBURY. | Maw reader will remember, that he has been twice interrupted in the narration of the affairs of the unhappy Mrs. Chipman. It has been thought most adviseable to attend to the chronology of events, ra- ther than regularly to detail each subject by itself. Whatever is dore by Providence, has in it abundantly more beauty of design, than that whichis dressed by art. To refresh the reader's memory, he is requested to recollect the conclusion of Dialogue the Twenty- sixth: he will there find, that Mrs. Chipman was left perfectly deranged, in which state she a for full six weeks. After her recovery, she was still bent upon the idea, that she could never more make her appearance at _ Locksbary, where her notorious conduct, had rendered her the object of universal disgust. She wished rather te keep a school where she was ; but still the yearnings ofa mother’s bowels over the fatherless, and forsaken child, would not suffer her to be happy, till she had it idler her immediate care. However, Mr. Reader was as unwilling to part with his grand-child, as his 192 DIALOGUE XXXIIl. daughter was to live without it; and other circum- stances turning up in Providence, demanded that Mrs. Chipman should forego her feelings, and return to her native home. Mr. Chipman had a younger brother ; an attentive, decent young man. The neighbourhood advised that the business should not be dropt ; and Mr. Reader agreed that the deceased brother’s property should be continued in the business, _provided his daughter, for the sake of the child, should be a partner in the concern.. Matters being thus settled, she had no other alternative, than to leave Brookfield, and undertake the charge of the partnership assigned to her care. Her father therefore, wrote to her after her re- covery, begging her to submit to the plan ; persuad- ing himself that their happiness with each other, be- ing now found on the solid basis of their union with Christ, and consequently on the best of principles, would be far superior to what can be enjoyed from ‘mere natural affection, independent of the loving in- fluences which are experienced in the hearts’ of all those, who “ love the Lord Jesus in sincerity.” Mr. Reader at the same time strongly urged, that Mr, Lovegood should attend her, in order that he might accept Mr. Fribble’s offer of the pulpit, that his neighbours might have an opportunity of hearing the same glorious truths, whereby such wonders of grace had been felt, not only on the hearts of his daughter and her husband, that he humbly trusted on his own heart also. \ Mr. Worthy was equally desirous that Mr. Lovegood should attend the call, though his congregation at all times parted with him with much regret; while Mr. Lovegood felt himself more at liberty to a second excursion, though so speedily after the former, under the consideration that a serious clergy- man, Mr. Deliberate, was then upon a visit in that neighbourhood. Perceiviug therefore, that he should uot leave his beloved flock under the care of Mr. John Nokes, or Mr. Thomas Styles, provided he was but in holy orders ; he concluded it was again the call of MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 193 Providence, that he should make his second excursion from his congregation, and family. He allowed him- self only one Sunday’s absence for this journey. Fiom this, his domestic disposition, may have la- mented that one of the best of ministers has been pre- vented from shining among others, equal to the full lustre of that character, which he ever appeared to possess, in the retired situation he filled with such dig- nity and devotedness of heart. Matters being thus settled, Mrs. Chipman, with many tears, and the strongest expressions of gratitude, and thankfulness to her kind benefactors, departed from Brookfield, in one of the stages which goes within a short distance of Locksbury, attended by Mr. Lovegood—giving leave for Mr. Spiteful to say, that Lovegood had left the country, and was gone nobody knew where, with the woman he had so marvellously converted :“imsinu- ing much by saying little. Such were the speeches of this wretched creature; himself being such a miserable composition of jealousy, craft, and spleen. Mr. Lovegood’s journey to, and from Locksbury, eccupied near a fortnight of his time. The reader Shall be acquainted with the result of this visit, in the ‘conversation which took place between him and the family of the Worthy’s at Brookfield Hall, on his return on the Saturday afternoon. =a Wor. Well Sir, we are glad to see you home again, though we had two very judicious sermons from Mr. Deliberate : He is a serious and solid divine, yet I wish he was not so dry and formal. Mrs. Wor. His sermons may be good ones, but I cannot admire for myself, such a formal, cold, sys- ‘tematic method of preaching. Loveg. Mr. Deliberate is an excellent chamber divine, if I may so speak, and capable of writing good sound lectures in divinity ; but that which is delivered with greater simplicity, and which comes more to the VOL. Il. s 194 DIALOGUE XXKIII. point, so as to reach the conscience, certainly does most good. Wor. I confess that the heart should be affected, as well as the head instructed; our afflictions should be enlivened, while our judgments are enlightened ; though Mr. Deliberate is certainly a man of a very deep understanding. Mrs. Wor. My dear, I do not pretend to be a judge of the depth of his understanding ; but it appeared to me, that though the people continued gaping at him through half his sermon, yet, before he concluded, some of the congregation seemed to be half asleep, But in my opinion he is a better preacher, than Mr. Legal-definition. Loveg. As to Mr. Legal-definition; I could very readily put up with his long aud tiresome definitions, of which he makes almost the whole of his sermons, if-he would but give us more of the gospel. Wor. I think I have heard him preach three times, and one of his sermons was tolerably evangelical ; but the others had not a word of the gospel in them: all the time was taken up upon the duty of forgiving our enemies. Loveg. And what a fine opportunity he had of impressing that excellent duty from evangelical prin- ciples, when we are directed “ to forgive one another, even as God, for Christ's sake, has forgivenus!” It is much to be admired, how closely St. Paul urges all social, and relative duties, as resting upon no other principles, than those which are evangelical; as though he knew no other arguments to be conclusive among Christians, but those which spring from the atone- ment and salvation of our Lord. We are “bought with a price, therefore we must glorify God in our bodies, and spirits, which are his.” When the morti- fication of sin is mentioned, it is said, we are “ cru- cified with Christ,’ and ‘“made conformable to his death ;” that thereby “‘ we are crucified unto the world, and the world unto us ;” so that “* we reckon ourselves to be dead unto sin,” through his death ; and that we i- = i MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 195 are so completely dead unto sin, that we are even said “to be buried with him.” So in regard to that heayenly-mindedness, which is the very life, and soul of all spiritual obedience, we are said “to be made partakers of the power of his resurrection ;” to be “visen with Christ ; quickened together with Christ :” and that we are “made alive unto God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” How poor and low are the dry arguments of the moralists, when compared with these! If these motives will not prevail against our corruptions, I am sure no others will. Wor. 1 know that all other arguments in defence of morality, have argued almost all morality out of the country. We never can have practical religion, but upon evangelical principles.. But Mr. Legal- definition is very fond of what he calls, “‘ guarding the gospel,” which he only ventures now and then to bring out as a rarity. Loveg. Guarding the Gospel! Why what guarding can the gospel need? They must have a poor opinion of divine truths, who talk iu this cold imconsistent manner. We are only set upon our guard, when we suspect an evil. And what evil is there to be sus pected from the gospel? What part of the gospel- dispensation have I to guard? When the gospel freely holds forth the name, and salvation of Christ only, for the pardon and acceptance of sinners, how are we to guard it? It is to be hoped, not by con- tradicting ; ; not by saying, that our repentance is to be mixed with the divine mercy, to render it effec- tual: If so, 1 have as much reason to love, and thank myself, as 1 have to love, and thank my Savior: ,and while we lessen our obligations to love him, we certainly lessen our obligations to obey him; how then can the interest of holiness be promoted, by preaching in such a stile, so as to tempt the ruined sinner to keep away in despair? W hat motives can be stronger to create a spirit of loving obedience upon jour hearts, beyond those encouraging promises of our free forgiveness, and acceptance, whereby we may | 196 DIALOGUE XXXIIt. “draw near to God, and have grace given us, that we may go and sin no more?” Wor. Yes, it is upon this very principle that they think the gospel should be guarded, “lest we continue in sin, that grace may abound.” Loveg. And so this inconsistent, cautious tribe of guarders, think they do credit to divine truths, by bringing forward the objection started, and which ever will be started by its enemies, in all ages of the church, while upon that very subject St. Paul shews, how the gospel guards itself : “« How shall we that are dead in sin, live any longer therein?” But these peo- ple seem to me, to have no idea of the gospel, but as it is limited to the justification of our persons, through the redemption of Christ. Is not the sanctification our natures, by the influence of the divine Spirit, another essential part of the gospel,where by the bless- ing of personal holiness, is absolutely secured to all the redeemed of the Lord? and can we be tempted to live in sin, by receiving such a glorious salvation from sin. ? Wor. I cannot see what we have to be afraid of, or to guard in all this. Loveg. Why, I suppose we are to tell people, that as they are not to trust too much on the merits of Christ on the one hand, so they should be aware lest they trust too much on the work of the Spirit, on the other: as if living on the grace of the Holy Spirit, could feed their corruptions, and make them unholy. Wor. One would suppose, what you frequently call the gospel of our “sanctification,” operated by the tule of reverse ; as though lectures on honesty, need to be guarded, lest they should direct us to be thieves; or lectures on chastity should teach us to be impure. Loveg. I really do not know what they can mean by “‘ guarding the gospel,” unless it be a perverted gospel; and as perverted truth is‘nothing better than falsehood, so a perverted gospel, is no gospel at all. Some persons seem to think, though it be as contrary to truth, as light is to darkness, that the gospel is with- MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 197 in a hair’s breadth of downright Antinomianism, which turns the holy truth of God into a licentions lie; whereas, nothing can be more inconsistent with truth, than that foul and filthy error. Am I in danger of error, while I receive the truth? or must I cuard against wickedness, while I humbly submit to be ruled by that doctrine which is according to godliness? I wish all our worldly prudence about guarding truth, and preaching it moderately, or soberly, as they call it, may not lead to something much worse, by producing ignorance, and indifference. which must ultimately terminate in corrupting, or giving up the whole. Wor. Well Sir, nobody “Will ‘suspect you of such sort of false fears, though I am sure you are quite as practical as you are evangelical. Loveg. Yes Sir, and I hope [ shall always feel it my duty, to dwell upon the practice which such principles must ever produce; for although the Gos- pel needs.no guarding, yet I should still call those unguarded preachers, who greatly injure the sacred cause, by such a neglect. Wor. I think you good ministers of the gospel, have nothing to do, but to “ contend earnestly for the faith, once delivered to the saints.” Loveg. Then Sir, we need not guard those holy truths, which God himself hath “delivered to the saints ; and if delivered to the saints, it was designed of God, that we should be “ sanctified by the truth.” Thus, all this guarding the gospel seems to come home against the gospel itself. In my opinion, it is in itself, a most unguarded expression ; no wonder if the bad consequences of these truths are sus- pected by others, while we seem to suspect them our- selves. Wor. I donot know that Mr. Deliberate is by any means, such a great “ guarder of the gospel” as Mr. - Legal-definition is. I believe he knows much more of the truth, and is therefore much less afraid af preaching it, though his style of preaching renders him tedious and dull. 198 . DIALOGUE XXXIII. Loveg. When I was curate at Abley, there was a ~ clergyman in these parts, who lived ima parish in your preaching, near to my honest warm-hearted friend Mr. Slapdash, called Mr. Slopdash ; and he seemed to be just the reverse of Mr. Deliberate. For while Mr. Slapdash scarcely dares speak at all, but as he continues looking at every expression again, and again, lest it should be otherwise than the most judi- cious and correct; Mr. Slapdash without any consi- deration wheiever, will be pouring out vollies of the most disgustful nonsense. Notwithstanding the cold, — plodding, phlegmatic disposition of Mr. Deliberate, may render him a heavy preacher, yet I had rather a thousand times attend on the good sense of the one, than the mere raphsody, and nonsense of the other. .Mrs. Wor. And so had I. But then it appears to me, that of two evils, I should only choose the less. Mrs. Considerate asked Farmer Littleworth how he liked the sermon, and he said,—‘“‘ Ah madam, to my liking, our own dear minister owt-tops them all. This gentleman has so many heads, and tails, and so many tops, and bottoms to his sermons, that we coup- try folk can scarce know how to make him out.” And poor Thomas Newman said, while Mr. Deliberate was splitting his heads, that by attending to him, he thought his own head would have been split at the sayne time. Loveg. Why, half the skill of preaching to a coun- try congregation . Wor. [Interrupts.] Aye, and to a city congrega- tion too, for not one in ten of them, is wiser than ourselves. Loveg. I quite agree with you Sir. But I was going to observe, that half the skill of preaching is, to bring truth home to the lowest capacity of our hearers; and while we attempt to make them wise unto salvation, the world will certainly call it |“ the foolishness of preaching ;” but still it will be widely different from foolish preaching. Whilewecanpreach with “simplicity, and godly sincerity, and not with MRS, CHIPMAN’S RETURN. * 199 feshly wisdom,’ we may expect the same blessing which attended the ministry of St. Paul. He tells us plainly, how he went to work : ‘ And J, brethren, _ when I came. unto you, came not with excellency of speech, and of wisdom, declaring to you the testimony of God ; for I was determined to know nothing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified ; and my speech, and my preaching, was not with the enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit, and of power:” and what a noble reason he adds to all this, “ lest your faith should stand in the wisdom of man, and not in the power of God.” Wor. But Sir, I think Mr. Deliberate does net aim at what some fulsome pretended orators suppose to be the excellency of speech or wisdom. Loveg. I quite agree with you Sir; and I did not quote that passage from scripture as immediately levelling its meaning against one of his discription. Mr. Deliberate is a good man, and a man of learning, and thought, and our natural dispositions all widely differ from each other. Wor. Just so I conceive of matters. But Iam so much interested to hear the result of your journey to Locksbury, that I must beg leave to interrupt the present conversation, and make some enquiries about that event. Loveg. Oh Sir! the nearer the poor widow came _ towards Locksbury, the more her mind was agitated and distressed. I thought she would have lost her Teason a second time. Wor. I suppose that her feelings must have been keen indeed. I am almost afraid to ask, what was the result of the first interview. Loveg. Sir, the people of the inn, when we alight- ed, immediately knew who she was, and there was an immediate buz' about the house ; I therefore request- ed, that she might be shewn into some back room, where she sat, more agitated, and affected, than I can well express ; and there | left her while I went and apprised her father of her arrival When I came 200 DIALOGUE XXNXIII. into his house, and told him who I was, how he trem- bled, and wept, and in what strong terms of gratitude he expressed himself, for all the attention paid to his’ daughter! He wanted to go with me immediately, to conduct her to his house, but I objected to this plan, as I thought this first interview, which was likely to be a very affecting one, had better not take place in a public house. He immediately saw the propriety of my objection; it was therefore judged best, that I should return and conduct her to her fa- ther’s house. Mrs. Wor. Oh! what a painful office this must have been! I wish Sir Charles had been there to have seen the consequences of his abominable, and brutal conduct. Loveg. Why madam, it is supposed that miserable creature is now no more. Mrs. Wor. What is he dead? Loveg. It is strongly reported about Locksbury, that soon after Mrs. Chipman left him, he went over to Ireland, where he thought it might be more con- venient to assume another name ; and there, fighting a duel with one of the same stamp with himself, he | was killed upon the spot.* But as for such monsters, * Report at present only says, that after Sir Charles had worn out the credit of his own name in England, he went over to Ireland, where he assumed the name of Mr. M’Fury. There be met with a military wiid Irishman, with wnom he picked a — quarrel about some of ‘their wild intrigues ; on this account they met, and according to the style of our modern polite par- barians, (called however, among themselves, men of honor,) they fought a duel ; the Captain proved the better marksman, and shot Sir Charles nearly dead upon the spot. He had only — time to utter two or three most profane expressions, and spoke no more. Is it not, however, high time, that the magistracy. of the na- tion should resume the dignity of their office; and no longer suffer these umpires of their own disputes to. proceed, without afterwards conferring upon them the dignity of the halter? I question if this honor, twice, or thrice conferr’d would not prove - an effectual remedy to so terrible a disease. When the whole race of such Duellers, find they are liable to be hanged as intentional murderers, for presuming to settle a - - SE - Bx g x S ~< tone “S/s-8 6 S= ON tea ON ENO DUEL BETWEEN SIR CHARLES DASH AND Ne ; CAPT. O’BLUNDER. § 0) After Sir Charles Dash had worn out the credit of his own name in S - England, he went over to Ireland, where he assumed the name of K M‘Fury. There he met with a military wild Irishman, Captain a O’Blunder, with whom he picked a quarrel about some of their vile g intrigues. On this account they met, and according to the style of ©. our modern polite barbarians (called, however, among themselves, men of honour), they fought a duel. The captain proved the best marksman, 4 and shot Sir Charles nearly dead upon the spot: he had only time to utter two or three profane expressions, and spoke no more. 41 eg -~< y oS - 86 GoorV* Cos! Das Ok Oe C.and C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 201 they are quite callous to all the fine feelings of natural affection, while sunk in the gratification of their mere brutal appetites. However the scene, between Mrs. _ Chipman, and her father, was so affecting that it al- most overset me. Wor. It will be well if the bare recital of matters, does not overset us all: hut we must hear it. Loveg. When I returned, I told her how affec- _ tionately her father designed to receive her. She cried, “Had he treated me with severity, and con- tempt, that, [ think I could have borne, for I know I ' have deserved it; but oh, what I feel at the thought, _ that such a monster should be treated with so much _ affection and love, while I deserve to be abhorred by all !” It was some time before I could get her to _ move off her chair to attempt the walk; and every step she took reminded me, of a criminal going to execution. Though I begged her to suppress the _ emotions of her mind as’ much as she could, yet the _ moment her father opened the door, she was down upon her knees, crying, ‘‘ Oh my dear father, for - God’s sake forgive me, for Christ’s sake forgive me!” _ He immediately stooped down and embraced her, and kissed her, and said, ‘«‘ My dear child, [ have forgiven you—from the bottom of my heart, I have forgiven you.” He attempted to raise her up, immediately she went off in an hysteric fit, and it was full half an hour before she could. be brought to her recollection ; directly as she could speak, she began again to ac- cuse herself of being her husband’s murderer, for her ingratitude to her father, and for-her brutality to her child. [then spoke rather sharply to her, and said, that if she had any regard to my advice, and her fa- ther’s feelings, she must make no more use of that sort of language against herself ; and especially being now, as we trusted, in a penitential state, the their disputes, excited by the mere freaks of passion, and ge- nerally in a drunken frolic, when they ought to appeal to the wholesome laws of their country, it will be much to the credit of a civilized nation. ; 202 DIALOGUE XXXIII, _ language of humble gratitude, would best suit her state: and I went to prayer. Wor. And how was she after prayer? Loveg. Somewhat more calm, but still very low and hysterical. I waved the subject as far as I could, and entered into conversation with Mr. Reader about the alteration of his views, as itrespected spiri- tual matters ; and [ found his mind in a most pleasant state, of holy surprise at his former ignorance, com- pared with the views he now enjoyed of the gospel- salvation. But while he inadvertently began to men. tion some of the blessed expressions which dropt from the dying lips of Mr. Chipman, the grief of the poor widow was rekindled almost as bad as ever. She sat sighing, and sobbing all the evening ; but as I charged her to make no more of these vehement exclamations — against herself, she said little, but wept much. At length she cried, “‘ Father may I be permitted to see my dear child?” He answered, “‘ My dear, you had better wait till to-morrow, till your spirits are a little moze calm ;” and in this advice she peaceably acqui- esced. } Wor. But I should supose, she had another dif-— ficulty to surmount, in returning back to her husband’s house. Loveg. Oh Sir! the very mention of her return thither, quite overset her again. Mrs. Wor. And it was enough to overset her, What woman who was once blessed with such a hus- — band, who had lost his life through her brutish con- duct, could bear to return and find him absent? And what sleep could she expect, while lying on the bed she had so treacherously forsaken ; and on which her husband had died of a broken heart ? Loveg. No doubt, but such must have been her reflections, and painful ones they truly were. Slaves of sin, haye bad wages for their slavery But when Mr. Reader mentioned whether she chose to stop a day, or two with him, or go to her own house, her grief became nearly as excessive as before, She cried, M CIMA MASOOD SS "ES? Oeaaier eur Daas BINS po ww 1 i DUE Oe —@ace TTT i i Mil Hi wi 2 SINE 5 MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN TO HER FATHER. The moment her Father opened the door, she was down upon her knees, crying, ‘‘ Oh, my dear Father, for God’s sake forgive me, for Christ’s sake forgive me!” He immeniately stooped down and em- braced her, and kissed her, and said, ‘‘ My dear child, [ have forgiven you from the bottom of my heart; 1 have forgiven you.” Ga PAs Bak House Chiswich, MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 203 “Oh ! that [ could but have lived a thousand miles from the place, which brings to my recollection so strongly, every circumstance of my most vile and treacherous conduct! Butif my return should be the cause of breaking my own heart with grief, it will become me to submit to the most righteous judg- ment of God, should I be carried from the same bed with a broken heart, to my dear husband's grave.” Mr. Reader said, “‘ My dear Jemima, you shall not leave my house till your spirits are more recruited : but I will send for your child to-morrow morning, and you shall see it.” Thus matters were settled; and after family prayer, I left Mrs. Chipman in possession of the bed designed for me, and got myself accommo- dations at the inn ; and sad accommodations they were. Wor. What sort of accommodations then hadyou? Loveg. Oh Sir! the bed was good enough, but in the next room, there was a meeting of some club: and the partition being very thin, I was obliged to submit to hear all their noise, and nonsense, imter- mixed with language the most blasphemous and ob- scene, till about two o'clock in the morning; and their horrid songs which they began singing, when they were half drunk, were worse than all. How- ever at length, the landlord came in, and begged them to break up. What a mercy to be redeemed from the filthy conversation of the wicked ! _ Wor. None of these things would have been al- lowed, had honest Edward, of the Golden Lion, been the keeper of the inn. I will engage for it, you would have rather been accommodated with some good, clean straw in a stable. Loveg. A thousand times: how much preferable the company of natural brute beasts, than the com- _ pany of those who are brutalized by sin. But as it was found an insurmountable difficulty to get Mrs. Chipman home, at least while I was there, I after- wards slept at her house, while she continued to oc cupy the bed designed for me at her father’s. 204 DIALOGUE XXXIII. Wor. It would have been a desirable event, if she could have surmounted that difficulty while you were there, that she might have been persuaded to have engaged herself in some family concerns. Loveg. Sir, for the present, the sight of any of her old acquaintance, fills her with immediate consterna-~ tion. She has kept herself a close prisoner ever since she entered into her father’s house. Wor. How then did she act on the Sunday you preached there ? , Loveg. Oh Sir! she was nearly as much affected as she was on the Wednesday evening, when we first arrived: her anxiety to attend militated so strongly against the sense of shame.—I therefore thought it best to come to advise her father, to lay his injunctions upon her not to come to Church on that Sunday, as she would have been a public spectacle to all the congregation. Mrs. Wor. Certainly it was the best advice, though | the shame she felt, is neither to be lamented, nor won- dered at. Indeed I always thought this the best evi- dence, that her repentance was genuine. Loveg. That it certainly was. The Apostle speaks of those things, whereof the really converted chris- tian is now ashamed; and that they shall be made to know that itis “‘even a shame to speak of those things done of them in secret.” I even suspect the genuine repentance of those, who soem to express ' themselves with a degree of carnal indifference, respecting their old sins, under a vain confidence, that they are now forgiven. I wish such sort of be- lievers would but recollect, that there is such a grace as “ Repentance towards God,” as well as “ Faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ.” JI hope, notwith- standing, Mrs. Chipman will soon have. sufficient evidence to believe that God has forgiven her; though I am sure she will never forgive herself. Mrs. Wor. But how did she bear the sight of her child, which according to promise, was to be:intro- duced the next morning ? SHEED A Oa RMA RED NE RONEN BONES 3 aes oo 2 le M we 3 = Mg MRS. CHIPMAN EMBRACING HER CHILD AFTER A LONG ABSENCE. Mr. Worthy.—How did she bear the sight of the child? Mr. Lovegood.—Why, sir, while we were at breakfast, Mr. Reader went out, and bronght it in: one of the most lovely cheerful babes, I think, I ever beheld, springing in its nurse’s arms, and sweetly smiling at its grandfather. He took and placed it upon the mother’s lap.—She looked at it, watered it with her tears, affectionately embraced it, and then began quoting that text, ‘Can a woman forsake her sucking child,” &c. MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 205 Loveg. Why madam, while we were at breakfast, Mr. Reader went out and brought it in; one of the most lovely, cheerful babes, [ think I ever beheld, springing in its nurse’s arms, and sweetly smiling at its grandfather. He took and placed it upon the mo- ther’s lap, she looked at it, watered it with her tears, affectionately embraced it, and then began quoting that text which had so impressed her mind: ‘ Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb!” and then quite fainted away. -The child was taken from her, and as soon as she was able, she was led up into her chamber, where she continued most of the day. Wor. What misery this poor creature has entailed upon her own mind. But did she make any further efforts to surmount her feelings, as it respected her child ? Loveg. Yes Sir, I believe several. But every at- fempt she made, was with thejsame cutting reflec- ions against herself. Sir, we who are blessed with shildren, and with a parental love towards them, nay judge what she felt, when she was recovered by he grace of God, from the brutalized state of mind which possessed her, while she was captivated by that mprincipled monster of iniquity. However, towards he latter end of mystay, she would now and then attempt to smile on her child, while every smile re- urned by the child, would be sure to bring a fresh ear from her eye. _ Wor. It will be well, if the child does not lose »oth its parents, by the same event. ; Loveg. Sometimes I fear this will be the case ; at yther times I have my hopes that she will still sur- sive her grief. I requested Mr. Reader to set her ibout some household affairs, and to try to divert ier attention by the use of the needle, and this was jone with some success. Though oftentimes, while the was at her work, she would bedew it with her ears, till completely overcome by the recollection wf her former misconduct; she would then entirely / VOL, II, T 206 DIALOGUE XXXIII. lay her work aside, and again give way to the extreme grief of her mind. vid Wor. It must have been exceedingly distressing her poor father; to have seen her si gate 0} such excessive grief. f Loveg. The grief of the parent, was nearly equa to that of the daughter, though he exemplified aste- nishing patience on the occasion. All his affectic seems entirely restored ; he now loves her as muc as ever he once could blame her. Itis amazing, wha the forgiving love, and converting grace of God does on the hearts of all the children of God. . Wor. Did she not in any degree recover her spirit while you were there. : Loveg. I humbly trust she did: there were sucl cheering prospects of good, which attended the di vine services on the Sunday, as revived the hearts 6} all; ‘ though my final departure from carne’ ex: ceedingly depressed her spirits. Wor. That must have been a very trying momen between you both. : Loveg. I am sure Sir, T could not have ayirtiaa the concluding interview without a very considerabl injury to her feelings and my own; I therefore took my farewell by sending her a letter, and at the sam time I composed for her a penitential hymn. ¢ Mrs. Wor. Do Sir, let us see a copy of it. Loveg. Oh madam, my poorrhymes scarcely de: serve the name of poetry; If I had by me a correct copy, it would never be worth your perusal. Mrs. Wor. Leave us to judge of ne we must hear it. Lg psy Te After much persuasion, Mr. Lovegood submitted, He is a man of uncommon modesty, though of con= siderable ability. He lives much as Moses did, on the mount with God; and as this made Moses’s f to shine, ‘though he wist not that his face shone, when he came down from the mount, to do the work ef God below, so also it is with Mr. Lovegoad, thoug MRS. CHIPMAN’S RETURN. 207 m my opinion, he shines less as a poet, than as a di- ine. However, from some short-hand notes he had n his pocket-book, he delivered the following hymn, upposing it to be the genuine experience before God, ff an humbled sinner of her description, panting for he mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, unto eternal life. THE HYMN. AND must I sink beneath my ioad, By weighty guilt borne down? How can I bear the heavy rod, Of God’s eternal frown ? . Who can thy righteous power withstand, : Or who thy wrath restrain? But mercy still withholds thy hand, And lets me here remain. . nem! should’st thou yet forbear to slay +. If not inclin’d to spare ? Shall I then fling all hope away, And. yield to wild despair ? : This were my sad account to swell, | Too big to be forgiven : : All sins lead down to death and he. | But this shuts out from heav’n. . ) No : still ’ll hope for grace divine, That mercy may abound ; Others, with guilt as vile as mine, Have still thy mercy found. Peter deny’d his blessed Lord, a With base blaspheming breath ; i Paul rag’d against the heavenly word, f And hunted saints to death. . What though a Magdalene had been Gi. Of sev’n foul fiends possess’d ? |) Yet Peter, Paul, and Magdalene, Were with forgiveness bless’d. And why not I, this grace obtain? Did not my Savior die? Or did he shed his blood in vain, To ransom such as I ? bn 208 DIALOGUE XXXIII. O! let me hear thy gracious call ; ** Come thou, with guilt oppress’d, “ On me let all thy burthens fall, .“ T give the weary rest.” The door I trust is open still, Whate’er my guilt has been, . And since ’tis my Redeemer’s will, Til humbly enter in. Mrs. Wor. Well Sir, I dare say, we are all of the opinion, that you need not have been so much ashamed of your poetry ; But oh! what a mercy to be kep from the evil propensities of our corrupted hearts, an to be under the sanctifying influences of God’s mos’ blessed Spirit. - Loveg. Yes madam, the blessings we enjoy in this world, in being so graciously-converted, so mercifully preserved, and kept, are inexpressible; in the ne they will be infinite. Mrs. Wor. Oh Sir ! how shall we sufficiently e press ourselves, for the kind providence which sent you among us?’ Mr. Worthy, and J, Both felt we wanted something, but we knew not what. This observation of Mrs. Worthy coming ho rather personally to Mr. Lovegood, rendered conversation desultory, though still edifying. turned upon the following subject, ‘‘ What is the which thou hast not received?” Butas the author aims at an abridgment of every subject, remembering the old Greek proverb, ‘‘ A great book, a great evil; he begs leave to close the present Dialogue, and re- sume the subject, when the conversation may be more to the paint. 4 DIALOGUE XXXIV. . THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS, AND MR. LOVEGOOD; THE CHARACTER OF MR. FRIBBLE, AND SOME FURTHER NARRATION OF.-EVENTS, OCCASIONED BY MR. LOVE- GooD’s VISIT TO LOCKSBURY. ‘x R. LOVEGOOD dreaded personal praise, more _ +*4 than anything. Having therefore retired for a few minutes, to break the chain of conversation _ which terminated the last dialogue, though so de- servedly to his praise, he again returned, and thus the conversation recommenced, Wor. Well Sir, you have aow told us all you know respecting Mrs. Chipman: we must next request you, to tell us how it fared with you on the Sunday. _ Loveg. Sir, you should first ask me, how it fared with . me on the Saturday. Wor. Begin where you like. But we want to know how you succeeded with Mr. Fribble, accord- ing to the dying request of Mr. Chipman. _ Loveg. Ob Sir, after Mr. Reader had sent him word of my arrival, he came and called on us, I found him as complete a puppy as ever I met with in my life; and he invited me and Mr. Reader with a ast deal of affectation, (for his father it seems was a dancing master,) to tea with him, as he was pleased to express himself, on the Saturday evening. Wor. Did you accept the invitation? Loveg. I conceived it was uot in my power to say 210 . DIALOGUE XXXIV. ne: but I told Mr. Reader, it could be only on the condition that he should go with mej and we had such a dose! Wor. I suppose you found him to be a most curi- ous sprig of divinity, according to the fashionable taste of the day. _ Mrs. Wor, How could you hit it off together ? Loveg. Why Madam, he first began bowing and scraping, with such an.abundance of compliments, ~ that 1 could not tell what to do with them. Mrs. Wor. Not with one half of them, I supposd . Loveg. No—nor with one quarter of them, mad: Wor. After the compliments were ot over, . - did you proceed ? Lm Ogoan. cae Loveg. Sir, he began chattering away, ata mos extraordinary rate; first upon one topic, t another ; I think 1 never heard so aie srs herent chatter before. But the first thing which ‘struck me, was the furniture of his room. On one peg were hung a pair of skaits, with red Morocco straps ; : on another his violin; at another place his bows and arrows were exhibited, as he was a member ¢ of an archer’s club ; over his chimney-piece were pilec his gun and other accoutrements for that 5] ort, with two or three dog-collars; then there was. his back- gammon-table, his cribbage board, and among other ~ - pretty play things, he had his battledores, and shutt! on cocks. a Wor. From the furniture of tis room, you migh r easily guess the furniture of his head. ~ A Loveg. I thought that was more easily delcrthadie by what appeared on two or three shelves, of books, 5 which he called his library; containing little, that I could find, but-a parcel of plays, loose poetry, and empty novels. Ae Wor. Had he no books of divinity? Eoveg. Sir, he had a few trampery p ets, and among the rest, he had one book somewhat better bound than the others, called ** The Religion of a polite gentleman.” < o 6 y Co YA) FURNITURE OF THE REV. MR. FRIBBLE’S ROOM, we | 5, 5 = C O Vea) <— Mt aut ©, = ery Qe or Lovegood.—The first thing that struck me, was the furniture of his room. On one peg were hung a pair of skaits with red morocco straps; on another his violin; at another place his bows and arrows were exhi- bited, ashe was a member of an archer’s club; over his chimney-piece were piled his gan, and other accoutrements for that sport, with two or three dog-collars; then there was bis backgammon-table; his crib- bage-board; and, among other pretty play-things, he had his battledores and shuttlecocks. © Q 4 RM: OS RA. ©@ 8 ©@ AS) SM Ma-@, Ne a BENS SHE Soe Oe Se C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. y i MR. LOVEGOOD AND MR. FRIBBLE. 211 _ Wor. In the name of wonder, what sort of a book ean that be? Loveg. I should suppose a jumble of affectation, and religious compliments. I asked him however, out of curiosity, what were its contents. He di- rectly answered, he had only read a little in the mid- dle of t¢; but that the author plainly proved, that no gentleman should be over morose in his religion, and that this was supposed to be the fault of St. Paul, for that he was bred a Sadducee. Wor. A Sadducee! Did he not mean a Pharisee? Lovey. I suppose he might, but that he did not know the one, from the other. _ Wor. And had he no other religious publications besides ? _Loveg. Sir, he had a book called ‘ Thesaurus Ecclesiz Anglicane,” written by one Ecton. Mrs. Wor. Sir, we do not understand what these Latin titles to books of divinity mean. . Loveg. Why madam, it means, ‘ The Treasury of the English Church.” . . Mrs. Wor. Isuppose then he had one good book at least ; for in the Liturgy, Articles, and Homilies, there is a treasure of divinity, remarkably good, and sound : and it is wonderful how well calculated those writings against popery, are to confute the modern protestantism of the day, as you Sir, (to Mr. Love- good) have often remarked. | Loveg. OQ Madam, Ecton’s Thesaurus, contains nothing but an account of the worth of different liy- ings, and all other church preferments. If I were to give it another name, it should be, A Guide to pre- ferment-Hunters ; though they commonly call it among themselves, Ze Parson's Bible. Wor. What could be the style of the conversation of this poor creature ? __ Loveg. Sir, the most empty, and frivolous imagin- able. I did not at first, (according to Mr. Reader’s desire,) introduce religion too hastily, lest I should forfeit the use of the pulpit; he supposed that I had 212 DIALOGUE XXXIV. f i not much more to do with it, than himself; only conceived I might be of a more grave, and phle ’ matic turn of mind ; and that I was a fine orator, ¢ he called it. . Wor, I should suppose this idea respecting yo turn of mind, might have had some check upon his frothy talk. e Loveg. Not in the least; his chatter was incessant, He first began asking me, if I lived in a good sport ing country. I waved it, and said, that I was fond of my study, that I had a large family, and a good dea to do in my parish ; and that I had really no time for such amusements. He then said, he confessed he was of another turn; and that he could not see the need of muzzing over a set of books all the day long: Then he went on telling me what a wonderful deal of game he had killed that season, with one Esquire Madcap, a strange wild young fellow, who lives in those parts. ‘Then all at once, he cried, ‘Oh Si you really came a day after the fair; for Mr. Mad- cap, our young Esquire, who lives about three mile off, treated us with a horse-race; he is a merry fellow I can assure you; and really Sir, we had charming sport.” I answered, I supposed it might be to them that liked it. But hints of that sort were of no avail; for on he went, erying, “ Really Sir, bee tween the pleasures of the horse course in the morn+ ings, and the card parties, and balls in the evenings, we were all alive! !” Wor. Did you not tell him, it was much tobe lamented, that the people of his spiritual charge, could not be kept alive, without the aids of car balls, and horse races ? al Loveg. Sir, I said to him, what was their life, would be my death ; and he immediately cried, “Oh my stars and garters! I think you were born under @ strange planet.” : Mrs. Wor.. A strange one indeed, I suppose fo him; but how did he proceed ? . Loveg. Madam, he said, I entertained very differ MR. LOVEGOOD AND MR. FRIBBLE. 213 ent notionsof religion to Mr. Archdeacon Wildblood, for that ‘he not only was at the horse race, but that he rode his own horse ; yet he did not sport a solo, for that another clergyman, young Bob Dapper, rode his horse as well as the Archdeacon. | Wor. Indeed, this is worse than bad. What must ‘be expected from a church, while some among its very dignitaries are not masked even with common San But was the rattle of this empty creature ‘correctly stated ? : | Loveg. Sir, when I asked Mr. Reader how far this circumstance was true, he told me, that an Archdea- con, known by the name of Jack Wildblood, actually rode his own horse; and that before common de- ‘eency was insulted, by turning Jack into a Parson, and afterwards into an Archdeacon, he was an officer ‘in the army; and that after having made his caleu- \lations, he discovered from family connexions, it was probable that things spiritual, would pay him better than things temporal.* _ Report also says, that while on the horse course, vhis stirrup unfortunately broke, and that he swore at the mob, most profanely to get out of the way, Mest, as he could not manage his horse, he should ‘ride over them ; but his excuse it*seems is, he does not swear as the Archdeacon, but as the Captain.}+ Wor. We all remember an anecdote respecting a ‘certain German Prince-bishop, who was much given ‘to swearing ; and when accused of it, especially as ‘being such a great indecency in a Bishop, his answer was, he did not swear as the bishop, but as the prince. ye ‘ __ * Report says, some of these military parsons are still on {half pay. _ + Ifthe reader objects to the above, supposing that circum- _ stances must have been exaggerated, I answer, would to God they could be contradicted ! But he may be assured, that how- ever bad things may be with us, they are actually worse in . Treland. 1 was told, when once there, of @ Dean who is as complete a jockey, and as finished a Jack Wildblood, as the _ Person who is represented above. : 214 ‘DIALOGUE XXXIV, | And the next question naturally asked owas, if th Prince went to the devil for swearing, what woul become of the Bishop? Now just the same questi rests between the Captain and the Archdeacon. Bu how could this peor brainless creature run on at such a rate? a a Loveg. Sir, he ran on as fast as ever, exposing himself and his fraternity at a strange rate; though it seems, that Mr. Reader played poor young Bo! Dapper a sad trick. Wor. What was that? Loveg. Why, the worthy old gentleman, feeling himself offended at the leose conduct of these giddy chaps, made a sermon on this? text, “So run that ye may obtain,” in which he lashed these abominable indecencies, pretty severely... And this sermon young Bob Dapper bought of Mr. Reader, who sold-it hin under the idea that it was suitable tothe season. H supposed it to be a thanksgiving sermon, suitable after a plentiful harvest ; whereas Mr. Reader com posed it as being a suitable reproof, during the season of such an abominable outrage against all the ru of decency, and good order.* Poor Bob therefore, * Were the ministers of the church of Sectland, or of many other Protestant churches, to act a part nea. ly as inconsistent, they would soon be brought into better order. If it be added that it is to be hoped such instances are rare, it is answered, it is much to be lamented that they exist at all. The evil con sequences of these things, are incalculable. Ifa sct of such clergy as these are-found to complain that a set of preaching Cobblers, Barbers, and Taylors, not having priestly authority, interrupt them in what they call their duty, let them look home for the cause, mend their own manners, universally preach, and live the dectrines of the church of England, and see if these Cobblers, at least the most of them, will not stic to their stalls; the Barbers keep to their blocks, and the Tay- lors to their goose. ving 1 Some talk of persecuting these poor creatures: but before they begin upon the business, it may be well if they would first ’ ask themselves, if an innocent, well intentioned man, with a fe good brains in his head, and the grace of God in his heart, be not likely to give better instruction in point of religion, tha such a set, so ordained, and from sich motives, as are © MR. LOVEGOOD AND MR. FRIBBLE. 215 after having procured the sermon, came home from his sports, so late on the Saturday night, or rather so early on the Sunday morning, that he had no time to read it over, but trusted entirely to the good writing of Mr, Reader. Thus this redoubtable spi ritual jockey, who was once “moved by the Holy Ghost, to take upon him the sacred office of the mi- Nistry,” took out this sermon and began to read it. ~ Wor. And I should suppose, the whole of it was a most pointed declamation against his own conduct.* nerally sent to fill the church, and then determine if it would ye wise, or politic, or just, to put such preachers under the ©astigation of the law. If the plea be, that folly, and enthu- siasm ought to, be corrected, the answer is, leave it alone, and it will correct itself. But from what has already been exhibitcd, others may deserve chastisement, as much as the wildest en- thusiast in the land. ~"* During the time of Mr. Madcap’s revel, Mr. Reader men- fioned another circumstance which occurred, and which equally proved the inconsistency of these things, as belonging to the character of a Christian, and in a ten-fold more aggra- yated point of view, when exhibited in the character of a Christian Minister. . __ Soon after the business of the horse-race, and all concomitant diversions were concluded, the bishop of the diocese came about those parts to visit and confirm. Previous to this, he very oe eed sent his circular advice among the clergy, to put ‘into the hands of the young candidates for confirmation, some ‘small devotional exercises, by way of impressing their minds vith a suitable improvement on that occasion. Among others who came to take a more moderate and sanctified peep at these fooleries, was the Rev. Mr. Demure; and yet, that he might act consistently with the bishop’s direction, while he had been snjoying these things according to the real appetite of his mind, ke a man who would now and then, indulge himself with a ' carrion as a rarity,) he wrote to Mr. Reader on the sub- , Supposing that as he could make their sermons for them, could also make their devotions. Mr. Demure’s letter, and Mr. Reader’s answer to it, may not be unacceptable, as it may ow a farther light or the same subject. lgoriahrormmo >t : | “SIR, t yevuile ? x ; . x . Ac cor ding to the laudable advice of our wortny Diocesian, are desi ed to lay before. the young people». who muy be 216 '_ DIALOGUE XXXIV. Loveg. Sir, Mr. Reader told me, that he laid it on as thick as ever he could, and thus poor Bob, after short introduction, began exclaiming against ho races, as the worst of revels ; and that “ revellings and such like,” were strongly prohibited: asking th : : judged fit for confirmation, some small devoftonal tracts, that they may afterwards be properly instructed, how to do the duty, and to say their prayers. - 1 apply to you Sir, for assis- tance, as you know this week we have been pretty much 4 gaged in seeing our friends, who came in great abundance to partake of the amusements of Mr. Madcap’s horse-race, s that we haye not had sufficient time to attend to the pastoral a monition, his lordship has condescended to send us ; and you can make such excellent sermons for us, I hayeno dou but you can make some devotions also, which we mean to § printed, and distributed as directed by hislordsmp. Tho T am sorry to say, that some of the clergy did not Ps tly tend to the rules of decency, and good order, yet Iw at nae ; you Sir, others of us, (thank the Almighty,) considered our duty, and came home in due time, so as not to suffer our inn¢ cent diversions, to interrupt our devotions. Mr. Reader, not a little offended at the inconsistent, sancti: monious pretensions of Mr. Demure, returned the followin answer : “ REV. SIR, b Me “* [have received your proposal to draw out some devotions exercises, for the young canditates for aati r * As to myself, had IL inclination, Ico: under present cir cumstances, I wish to decline the work ; am now satisfie itis high time for the clergy to convene themselves togethe and enlarge the plan, by composing such sort of devotion will be suitable to their sivertona, tet tee world may be ci vinced respecting them, (for they begin to be much suspecte that according to a scripture rule “ whatever they do in wor and deed, they do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giv thanks to God, and the Father by him.” #- act “* Now what I conceive will prove a high recommendatio to this publication is, that the plan will be entirely new; i though it has been said, there is nothing new under the su believe devotional exercises of this sort, have never as yet mz - their appearance ; while at the same time, it v MR. KLOVEGOOD AND MR. FRIBBLE. 217 question, how any but the friends of debauchery and riot, could sanction such revels by their presence ? and how Christians, who take the Bible as the model of their Christianity, could presume to patronize, by their presence, such exhibitions of mad and wan- ital criterion of the innocency of the diversions themselves. Whatsever we do, that we can ask God’s blessing upon, will eyer do us harm. ' “First, for the mottos to this publication; and these will be best found in the Bible; “Pray without ceasing. _ _ “ Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto, with all perseverance. fe Continuing instant in prayer. “ Now from these texts, the real Christian is at least directed fo continue in a perpetual aptitude for prayer. “To the pious compilers of this new publication, I beg: leave i9 Tecommend the composing some forms of prayer on the fol- lowing occasions. if ' “A devout supplication before going to a tragedy. — _ “ Another before going to a comedy. ‘© A short form of prayer, to be said before a farce. “* Another prayer also may be necessary before going toa jarlequin entertainment, or a masquerade. “Then let the reverend composers of this new work, direct heir devout disciples, not to omit any of the accustomed forms Jefore going to bed ; but as a proof of their proper gratitude to Umighty God, for such blessed innocent amusements, let them idd a thanksgiving prayer, which for the sake of avoiding pro- ixity, may be made equally suitable to each of the above nentioned occasions; and then the title to such a piece of de- rotion will run thus, ‘A Thanksgiving Prayer, to be said ifter returning from a Tragedy, Comedy, Farce, Harlequin {ntertainment, or a Masquerade.’ _ “ Andas short titles sound best, Inext advise a Puppet Show *rayer, that people’s heads may be made wiser, and their er better, by their devout attendance thereon. “As children also take much delight in scenery, such as ancing dolls, &c. whether they be large or small, it might. iot be amiss to make a religious use of these pretty jump- , for the good of the rising generation, by never suffering hem to go to a puppet show, a play, ora ball, unless they can tt least say pretty pat, the first of the three things their devout xod-fathers and God-mothers engaged for them in baptism, they should renounce the devil, and all his works, the pomps, and ities of this wicked world, and all the sinful lusts of the flesh. hut to finish the plan of this new intended Manual, which I | Vou. 11 U 4 218 DIALOGUE XXXIV, ton riot, which so notoriously abounded during thes seasons of entire dissipation? Then poor Bol again cried out against himself, “* Feign to your selves, how preposterous would, be the sight, shonle that very sacred character, of all, others the, mos mortified, and devoted to God, exhibit as a publi Jockey, for the diversion, and scoff of the most wicked and profane :” asking them, Whether they had taker the model of their religion from the wanton trick of a set of heathens at their Olympic games, or fron the holy word of God? re el ae Wor. Oh poor Bob! how he was taken in ! hoy could he go on? uy 8 would recommend to be short, that it may be snug and_ ports ble for the pocket, as also fit to. be hound Si EA ah os We Preparation, or the Companion to the Altar, should there no also be a proper prayer made before going into a ball-room and another after returning from it?» A prayer. also may } necessary before a card assembly, together th a few ol} ejaculations, to be said between the deals. I would also re commend having a huntsman’s, prayer, and. a_ horse racer” prayer, especially for such of the reverend clergy as commene Te, aD people’s good? Wishing that you, and all the clergy, may b as much a credit to their office, as. eipdiadach aiale ‘hen be a credit to them,* yy SO a | “Tam, j “ Rey. Sir, “ Your obedient humble servant = «JAMES READER? It may easily be supposed that Mr. Reader. lost.not ali of his custom : the ace of a Mee eget Mr. Der : however charitably concluded, that he was a little derang through family misfortunes, and so it passed off, * Some of these thoughts appeared in a former publication, which not intended for extensive circulation. MR. LOVEGOOD AND MR, FRIBBLE. 219 | Loveg. It séems he hummed, and hawed, and stut- tered, and stammered ; took out his handkerchief and wiped his face, again and again ; turned over two or | three leaves at a time, but found it all just as bad: | ‘got out of the pulpit as fast as he could, and swore | he would tell the Archdeacon, what a trick that sanc- | tified fellow, old Reader, had put upon him, | Wor. How in the world could he face his parish- | ioners after this? | Lovey. Oh Sir, he has: but few of them to face. ‘Men of this cast are’sure to empty their churches ; | but it should seem, all his comrades had something | to say to him; one asked him, Who made his ser- | mon for him? Another wondered, how he came so ' dreadfully to quarrel with himself? A third asked him, if his great-grandfather was not an old Puritan, and whether he was not so much in a hurry as to ‘take up some of the leaves of one of his old long- winded sermons? Itseems, poor Bob laughed it off as well as he could. And thus ended this most dis- _ graceful farce. _ Mrs. Wor. Could Mr. Fribble approve of the con- ‘duct of Bob, and the Archdeacon? __ Loveg. Madam, he confessed, that Mr. Archdeacon ‘Wildblood went rather a little too far, but that the ‘clergy were flesh and blood as well as others; and “that one of his best sermons was written upon this text: “ We also are men of like passions with you.” And when I told him, how dangerous it was to in- terpret the Scriptures according to the coarse, vulgar sound of words, as we might thereby entirely pervert ‘them from their original most holy sense, and design ; he cried, “I beg your pardon Sir, but why may not “my notions of that text, be as good as yours 2” _ Wor. Could he then be so weak as to suppose, that our Lord’s first Apostles might be as wicked as a set of heathens, by having the like corrupted passions with others ; and especially, when they came. to preach the pure, and holy dispensation of the gospel, which directs and enables us, to lay aside all our im- 220 _ DIALOGUE XXXIV. ——— pure desires, and to “‘ perfect holiness inthe fear of the Lord ?” ” Loveg. I suppose he had not thought, as it rela to the connexion of the words, that the apostles only intreating the poor heathens, not to worship the as gods. But 1 have heard before now, that the sa passage has been pressed into the service of lic tiousness, by these inconsistent preachers of — rality. Hf Wor. Ynstead of being preachers of morality what better are such, than mere apologisers for sensu= ality? But what had he to say for himself? Loveg. Sir, he said he thought the text might be taken two ways ; yet as to himself, he had no great notion of frightening people by being “ righteor over much’; though for his own part, he was very sorry people did not keep Good Friday, more strictly than they had done of late years ;* and that these oe the sentiments of his father, and mother, before im. ; : Wor. What could you say to all this rattle? . Loveg. Indeed Sir, he gave me no time to say any thing, for he next began chattering away about the balls, and card-parties, they havein the town, daring the winter season and then observed, how impossible it was ‘to spend a set of long dull nights, one after ano- ther, without something to prevent jovial minds fro being hipped to death. 'Then he directly asked me, what were my favorite games at cards? but instead of waiting for my answer, which by the bye, woul have puzzled me, he began crying out about a Mis: Peg Prim, a famous dancer in their town; and how she moved like an angel; and though Mr. ae cautioned me against religious topics with him, yet I could not but observe, that I did not think a set of silly Misses in a ball-room, moved like angels. A Wor. How did he take your hints ? i ® The author is as much for. keeping Good Friday, as Mr, Fribble, notwithstanding the superstitious abuse of the day among; some: r we h MR. LOVEGO D AND MR. FRIBBLE. 221 Loveg. Oh Sir! the shatter-brained creature took no notice of my remarks; but went on chattering away about what an elegant skaiter young Mr. Dap- per was, and that though he was reckoned a pretty good dab at it himself, yet how glad he should be if he could but exhibit in the same manner; and how he and young Dapper, one rainy day, when they could do nothing else, played at battledore and shut- tlecock, and that they kept up the shuttlecock twe thousand and fourteen times, before they let it drop ; and that they performed this wonderful feat within the space of twenty minutes, and then cried—“< Was not that clever ?” _ Wor. Some people are children all the days of their lives. One would have thought he had scarcely left off whipping his top, or driving his hoop. But is he ‘not a great man for archery also? _ Loveg. He is-fond of every thing that will intro- duce him to shew his empty airs among the giddy, and the gay. But at length, 1 thought my patience would have been quite exhausted: for after tea, he ‘took down his fiddle, and began playing with his _tweedle-dum, and tweedle-dee, and cried, ‘‘ This is the first air my father taught me.” Then he said, “ Did you ever hear that charming fellow, Giardini? he is certainly the first violin player in the kingdom.” And when I observed, I never heard of that gentle- “man’s name before, he exclaimed, ‘‘ Odds bobs! I think you know nobody ;” and then on he went, skip- _ ping, and fiddling about the room like a monkey ; and would, every now-and-then, be asking me how IL liked this, and how I liked that; and when I said that none of them suited my taste, he cried out, “ By Yove Sir, you seem to like nothing!” I just gave him the hint, that I supposed he princfpally read heathen authors, ashe had been taught to swear by their gods; and immediately Mr. Reader took up the eudgels for me, by saying, I was fond of such con- _¥ersation, asit had in it something that was rational, and i Ce DIALOGUE XXXIV. instructive. So be hung up his fiddle, and left o: skipping about the room, and sat down. ul Wor. I fear he was set upon a hard task, if he was only to talk about that which was rational, and i structive. d Loveg. Why directly upon this, he began compli- menting me upon the supposed powers of my oratory, because I had persuaded Mrs. Chipman, though on so bad a woman, to renounce her connexion with Sir Charles ; and how much the curiosity of the people was raised ; and what a fine sermon they expec from me; and that there was one great orator abo those parts, called Dr. Puff; and that he himself had done all in his power to make himself such an orator, by reading over Shakespeare’s plays, and by studyi Mr. Garrick’s directions for reading the Common Prayer ; yet he never could come up to the Doctor : and when I began telling him, thet the change ac- complished was not done by my oratory, but by th grace of God, he directly, with a great deal of com plaisance, replied, ‘‘ O surely Sir! it was by the grace of God, and your oratory put together.” Wor. 1 dare say he would have chattered with upon any subject you chose. mi Loveg. I suppose he would; for Mr. Reader says the poor, vain thing, is very good tempered. How ever, he entertained us for a while with the history of Sir Charles Dash ; that he was once in company witk him, but that he was not in the habit of telling thosé reat people, what was their duty; that his mother, Lad y Dash, was still living ; and that she was a grez church-goer ; and how mad the minister of the parish was at her, for being almost the only one who came to Wednesday, and Friday prayers, when he wanted to drop them: that she scarce ever missed the sacrament, and that she was much stricter in her religion than people are now-a-days. Then all at once, he burst out, and observed, ‘The clergy of our day, seem differ about how strict we should be in our religion; ‘MR. LOVEGOOCD AND MR. FRIBBLE. 233 pray, what are your notions on that point?” And when I began to tell him of St. Paul’s account of the Christian minister, and the Christian ministry ; he again immediately interrupted me by crying, “‘ Upon my word and honor Sir, I confess I do not pretend to ‘understand St. Paul; and I know some of the clergy who are of opinion, that people would have been ‘quite wise enough in their religion, if we had only the four Gospels, without any of the Epistles.” . Wor. l remember some years ago, that a vehe- ment, anonymous pamphlet, made its appearance against the writings and character of St. Paul, recom- — mending to the bishops, that all the New Testament should be suppressed, excepting the four Gospels; as ~ all the Epistles, especially those of St. Paul, had a ten dency to promote a spirit of enthusiasm, and metho- ° dism as he called it, throughout the land; and this book he dedicated to one of our bishops.* te Wor. How could you answer such a mere rattle? | _ Loveg. Really Sir, he saved me all that . trouble ; for he had no sooner said one thing, but without wait- - ing for an answer, he would start something else, quite foreign to the subject. All at once he cried, © Oh Sir! as you come from near Mapleton, perhaps you may know Mr. Jackadandy. He is my first ‘cousin: our mothers were two sisters, the two Miss © Prattles, that lived somewhere about those parts be- | fore they were married.” I gravely said, Yes, I have heard there is such a young clergyman who: lives in the next parish to Dr. Orderly. Mr. Fribble imme- diately cried, “Dr. Orderly! aye, Dr. Orderly ! what queer old quiz of a fellowhe is! he always puts mein imindof oldsquaretoes. I supposehe would not puthis foot into a ball-room for all the world ; and I am told, that he will not speak to my cousin, because he loves a Tittle harmless mirth, he is such a precise old codger ; ‘and they say his Curate, Mr. Sedate, is just such ano- _* Tremember this horrid production maze its ap} earance about forty years ago, and was dedicated to Dr. Hinchcliffe, a Tate bishop of Peterborough. UE } 224 XIALOGUE XXXIV. ther. ‘Now you do not think it necessary that we should be so strict as all thet: and I have a noti Sir, you are a little strict in your way ; though I ¢ assure you, such strict notions in religion will not d for the people of our town.” Wor. How could you bear to hear this frothy chap run on at such a rate? ia Loveg. Really Sir, I could not bear it, I therefo only spoke a few words in vindication of the Eo spectable- old Doctor, and turned him over to | Reader. Wor. And how did Mr. Reader deal with him? P Loveg. Sir, he talked to him far beyond my expec tation, in a very serious and appropriate manner in- deed. And glad enough we both were, after havi been pestered with his nonsense for near an howe al an half, to make our escape. _ a Wor. I suppose Mr. Reader’s views of such mi- nisters are completely altered. ee : Loveg. Altered indeed! He wonders at his igno- rance, that such miserable bits of vanity should e have been esteemed by him, as ministers of the wort of God! and how he laments the pitiable state « that town, so awfully deprived of all that is neces sary to their spiritual good! ie wil ' Wor. And what a pitiable state the Church mu be in, when such miserable creatures are appoin' as her spiritual guides, and are afterwards permitte to continue in that office! Whoin the world, wit conscience, and common sense, could continue under such a ministry! Many an application have I lately received, requesting my assistance tewards building Dissenting Chapels in different places; and however I may love the Church, I shall begin to think my mo- ney better spent than ever, for such purposes, if a set of better ministers can but be provided in another line, for the general good. Should any event:in Pro- vidence remove you. from us, a circumstance 4 should have greatly to lament: and were we to meet with such a successor as Mr. Fribble of Locksbury, 1 x MR. LOVEGOOD AND MR. FRIBBLE. 225 ‘could now never submit to a double starvation, both of body and soul,within the stone walls of our desert- ed parish church, as was the case while Mr. Deadman was our parish minister, when there were scarcely any to hear, and nothing to be heard. But let me not interrupt you in your story. Loveg. Blessed be God, all this produced good, not- . withstanding ; for I urged seriously on Mr. Reader, the necessity of considering the lamentable. state of the town, and to open his school-room, at least: on the Sunday evening, for family worship, to which:all his neighbours might have free access: and on those " occasions, that he would offer upa prayer himself, or read a part of our excellent church service, together with a chapter from the Bible ; and then read some of the homilies, together with ‘other books of good, ancient divinity, once universnily preached im the church of England, but till of late, almost as univer- sally laid aside; a plenty of which should be imme- diaicly transmitted to his hands. Wor. Did he seem to acquiesce ? _ Loveg. Sir, he promised me to exert himself to the utmost of his power, but that he did not know how he could venture to undertake such a solemn charge. _ Wor. Thope he will. This will prove a much more profitable way for people to spend their Sunday evenings, than in idle visits, and foolish chat. * Loveg. Why Sir, I believe I have in a measure, pinned him down to the work, by ‘telling him, with his leave, I would make a beginning, on the Sunday evening, after the services of the Church ; and that if he knew any of his neighbours who were of a se- Tious turn; he might invite them as to family prayer: however, if he undertakes the work, it will be with much “fear and trembling.” _ Wor. The better for that. In all religious engage- menis, diffidence and success are constant attendants on each other. But must he not take out a licence for his school-room ? | ; 996 DIALOGUE: XXXIV. Loveg. I believe not Sir, according to the pres disposition of the town; for it is astonishing the att tion and respect which was shewn me, after the ty sermons I preached on the Sunday. Prejudic though it seems to me, to be the brainless mons which the sons of bigotry universally adore, is, trust, through the divine mercy, not so much “ idol in Locksbury, as it formerly was. Wor. Blessed be God, as far as this, it 1s a. cori triumph. But should Mr. Reader take out a lic for himself, and his school-room, where would be fi harm of it?) He only swears allegiance to the sta’ and if he cannot swear allegiance to his protector is not fit that he should be protected. : Loveg. Yes Sir; but then does he not, by ' oath, put himself under the protection of the act ‘the relief of Protestant Dissenters ? wy Wor. Certainly so. But there is nothing said y he dissents; that is entirely out of the question. H takes precisely the same oath enforced on the clerg The law only demands, that every public preache shall be obedient to the state. You and J, if we live at Locksbury, should be dissenters from Mr. Fribble ministry, if not from the Established Church. Wha can be more disgusting than to have the solemn ser vice of God, conducted by such 'unmeaning fops; That mild and wise law, therefore, “asks no que tions for conscience sake ;” but gives equal protection to all, who can give a proper test of their obediene to the state: no man is obliged to swear he is a ‘° senter; but all public teachers, whether Dissenters otherwise, swear allegiance; and would to God, all denominations of Christians were as candid each other, as the laws of the land are liberally — for the protection of all. Loveg. Upon these principles every clcnmeal take out what is called a Dissenting license, at, time, if there were occasion. Wor. If he were compelled to it, unless he ms ‘MR, LOVEGOOD AT LOCKSBURY. 227 the government, and wishes to overturn it; and then mstead of protection, he deserves a gaol. “Mrs. Wor. [To Mr. Worthy. } Now my dear, you have given your idea as a justice, about licenses, do let Mr. Lovegood. tell us how it fared with him as a minister, on the Sunday. ~ Loveg. Madam, f found Mr. Fribble was willing that I should do the whole of the duty for him; so I read prayers and preached. ’ Wor. Lam glad of that ; E doubt not but it wasa good preparatory business to the sermon: your solemn way of reading those excellent prayers. has been very useful before now. Mrs. Wor. What was your text? ' Loveg. Madam, in the morning F preached upon the purity and holiness of the law, from that text, * Be ye holy, for I am holy.” You know, that isa favorite subject of mine; from thence 1 expatiated on the infinite holiness of God, and his law; and in the afternoon, T preached on the parable of the Pro- digal Son. But it was with some difficulty I was ad- mitted a second time into the pulpit; for the first sa- on after the morning sermon, from Mr. Frib- , Was very coarse indeed: ‘Sir, (said he,} you were too strict, you were a deal too strict for my con- tion. Did’ I not tell you, that they would not like such harsh doctrine? Lam sure my Rector, Mr. Careless, will be very angry, if Ilet you preach again.” Immediately, a very sensible, sedate gentleman step- forward, whom Fafterwards found to be one of the Churchwardens, addressed Mr. Fribble, and said : Sir, after such an admirable sermon, such an one as we never expect to hear from you, f am persuaded, the people of the town will be very much disappointed, if they do not hear Mr. Lovegood a second time; while many others expressed themselves with eqnal gratitude and thankfulness, for what they had heard.” Wor. I suppose after this, Mr. Fribble drew in his 3 Loveg. Directly. His apology was, that he was 228 DIALOGUE XXXIV. Ais . apt to be warm ; but begged I would be less strict i eny doctrine, when I preached in the afternoon. Wor. Sir, if you preached them such a pa the prodigal’s return, as you once preached to us, soe after Henry Littkeworth’s return, it was a very affec ing one indeed, +) ala Loveg. Sir, through divine mercy, I felt the sub- ject exceedingly ; the riotous living of the prodig was easily exemplified by the riotous consequence of Mr. Madcap’s horse-race. However, I hinted but little on that low subject, before I expatiated largel, on the infinitely tender love of God our Savior, to- wards all returning prodigals. ‘Then I made a dis- tant allusion to the character of. Mrs. Chipman : and in the application, considering the circumstances which brought me there, I was much more affected than I can express. I was so overcome that m voice at times faultered exceedingly, and I could scarcely. conclude the sermon, without. many tears. and indeed, the. congregation appeared not less af fected than myself. a Wor. Sir, you never find our minds so seriously impressed, under a sense of divine truth, as whe you feel their impressive influence on yourself. © what ignorance, and hardness of heart, that we are not all more affected at the glad tidings of salvation, by Jesus Christ! . *oihdcob Necak na Loveg. 1 confess Sir, I never saw’ people more affected in all my life! A vouchsafement of the di- - vine presence I trust, was very eminently upon the congregation. - fj Wor.. Why Sir, the Lord has promised “ to rain down righteousness upon us,” and to give us “ show- ers of blessings !” these are the happy times of “ freshment from the presence of the Lord” Loveg. Yes Sir, and we have a right to expec more under the New Testament, than under the Ol Christ, in his commission to his Apostles, has entailed the same blessings upon us which he promised % them: “Iam with you always, even to the end MR. LOVEGOOD AT LOCKSBURY. 229 the world.” And I really think, if ever I felt the divine presence, it was through the mercy of God, when I was preaching at Locksbury Church. Oh Sir, how much we lose by expecting little ! and yet, what may we not expect, from ‘the exceeding great, and precious promises” of the Gospel? Wor. And a man is to be esteemed as'a downright enthusiast, if he humbly waits the fulfilment of these promises. - Lovey. It is no great difficulty to put up with the reproach of the world, while we realize those bless- ings, so frequently promised in the word of God. But there is a wide difference between the enthusiasti- ‘cal reveries of some, and these holy influences from above, which are’so wise in their operations, and so gracious in their consequences, as they are exempli- fied by the peaceable fruits of righteousness, which are produced thereby. Mrs. Wor. Dear Sir, you know we are delighted to hear this sort of good news. We wish you to be more particular. I suppose the Church was very . full? / _ Loveg. Oh Madam, the Church was crowded. The euriosity of the people, all round the country, was. highly excited ; not only by the return of Mrs. Chip- ‘man, but also from the character Mr. Fribble gave of me, that I was a very great orator. Wor. Motives of mere idle curiosity are frequently oyer-ruled, for an abundance of good. | Loveg. Such was the case here ; for it was amazing with what affection, and kindness the people received the word ; how gratefully they expressed themselves to, Mr. Reader, for inviting me, and how earnestly many of them sought my acquaintance. Mr. Reader therefore hinted my design of introducing family- worship in his school-room in the evening of the day. The whisper soon circulated, and the school-room was crowded. . Wor. This was a good sign. Loveg. Yes Sir, and the effects of it were not tess OL. Il. x 230 DIALOGUE XXXIV. pleasant to my own mind, after that service, which was very serious, and I trust profitable. Many of the people came about me, and pressed me to continue with them another Sunday; mentioning how lament- ably they were served, between Mr. Fribble, and Jhis Rector; and that the next parish, contiguous to theirs, was worse off still, as it was served by one Jack Bully, who was a complete blackguard.* [ told them how bappy [ should be to comply with their request, but that my own parochial charge ab- solutely demanded my attendance ; yet if they could procure the pulpit for me, I would take the earliest opportunity to repeat my visit. ; Wor. Your visit to Locksbury was attended with much more desirable consequences, than your visit to Grediton. But do not you think, you have already done too much mischief against the religion, (as I sup-_ pose they call it,) of Mr. Fribble and his Rector, to ex- pect a second admission into the pulpit ? Loveg. Sir, I am told, that Mr. Careless does” not mind who preaches, provided lis parishioners are pleased, and he is left at liberty to do what he likes best; and as to his poor insignificant curate, -he is nobody. : Wor. Hardly fit to be candle snuffer to a card- table. What an evil when such men are entrusted” with the care of immortal souls ! and what a curse to the people, who have them for their ministers ! Mrs. Wor. Sir, we now do not wonder that you did not come home till Saturday evening, as you were so well engaged at Locksbury. Loveg. Madam, I found it impossible to leave them till the lates. moment I could allow for their service. * His cha.:.cter must be omitted from the general list, as it would be tos bad for public perusal, only that he was a great advocate for boxing, and bull-baiting ; suppose also for cock- fighting, and cudgel-playing ; in order to give people an heroic spirit, and keepthem steady to the Church, that they may not be seduced by the enthusiastic spirit of the day.—See some speech- es in the Hits of Commons on this subject as detailed in the public prints. MR. LOVEGOOD AT LOCKSBURY. 231 Many, even among the respeciable inhabitants, in- yited me to pass the evening with them, that they might enjoy the same priv ifege of family prayer, aphich they had at Mr. Reader's : ; and as to the poor, I was almost universally accosted by them, request- ing me to repeat my visit, and inviting me into their houses; and on this occasion, I found that tue bun- dle of little religious tracts, you gave me for distri- bution, were very serviceable indeed.—Sir, I humbly trust there is a work of grace begun, in the hearts of many in that town, which has laid a foundation for much future good. Wor. One would think you had scarcely an oppo- nent left throughout the town. _ Loveg. Oh Sir, notwithstanding the general good- _willof the inhabitants, the Gospel, as in all other places, had its opponents.. Dr. Rationality, the phy- sician, Mr. Pestle, the apothecary, and Mr. Proveall, the mathematician, went about from house to house, saying, that all this talk about regeneration, and con- _yersion was downright nonsense ; and that they could explain all these things from physical causes. And I heard that a Mr. Discussion, a man of considerable reading, and a very leading man in the Town; though it seems he is wonderfully wise in his own conceit, went about, saying, ke could not tell whether he was more disgusted at the ignorance of Mr. Fribble, or the enthusiasm of Mr. Lovegood ; while several other comrades of Mr. Fribble, especially one Jack Pert, pretended to ridicule what they could not under- stand. But still I humbly trust, an abundance of good has been done: and the most pleasing circumstance of all, arose from a visit I received from a Mr. Thouchtfal, a serious, respectable clergyman, who seems to have been catirely bewildered with the reli- gious notions of the day. Mrs. Wor. It willbe a great mercy if some of the clergy in those parts, should be influenced by divine greece to preach, what all of them should preach, ac- cording to the Bible, and their own subscriptions—the: 232 _ DIALOGUE XXXIV. giad tidings of salvation by Jesus Christ; instead downright heathenish morality, or asort of undefin jumble, between law and gospel, which nobody on understand. Loveg. Well Sir, I think Mr, Thoughtful i isin a fair way of being all that can be wished, as a mis nister, in those parts. He heard me twice expound the Scriptures in private houses; and with a gre deal of humility, he acknowledges his defective views of the plan of the gospel salvation. His moral cons duct, at all times, has been perfectly correct, and he seems to me like a devout Cornelius, and one who - wishes to know the truth. Wor. I should hope his acquaintance with Mr. Reader, will be a benefit to them both. Loveg. I trust.it will; for before I left Locksbury; Mr. Reader, seeing how many people of the town were struck at these things, became quite courageous 7 though at first he was timid, yet he is now deter- mined to open his school-room; upon the plan I first mentioned. t Wor. I really hope an abundance’ of good will come upon all this. Oh Sir! you must visit them again as soon as you can: we must put up with Mr Considerate, or even Mr. Legal-definition, sooner than that you should neglect this call in Providence, .Mrs. Wor. You said, you thought poor Mrs. Chip- man began to look a little more cheerful before you left town. ‘These tokens for good were enough te make you all cheerful. ; Loveg. Madam, I prevailed with her so far, as to get her into the school-room on the Sunday evening ; she sat next to her father, weeping and sobbing all the time ; but when she heatd how much the people of the town were affected at the sermons which had been preached on the Sunday, she began to take some consolation from what I had frequently hinted ; that God permits evil indirectly, for the advancement of his own glory. So all this good was brought about at Locksbury, indirectly, by her unhappy elopement, MR. LOVEGOOD AT LOCKSBURY. 233 in submitting to the intrigues of the abominable Sir Charles Dash. Wor. But, under such uncommon displays of di- _vine mercy, what need there is to guard our minds against the sad temptation of doing evil, that good may be the result. | Loveg. Yes Sir, St. Paul's caution on that subject, | is truly wise and good: but all true penitents, are sure to be preserved from such presumptuous sins, while they fear God, and tremble at his holy word. ‘The | idea of apostatizing into sin, will be more tremendous to them than hell itself: such as are among the pure | in heart, who shall see God, will never more wallow | in the filth of sin. ———— . After this, commenced a deal of talk about regene- ration, on which point Mr. Lovegood was very accu- _ rate, and great, and it might be very edifving if here _ transcribed for the reader’s perusal. Butas these Dia- logues have already swollen far beyond the original - design, nothing further shall berelated, than an abridg- ment of the present subject. Mr. Reader wrote to Mr. Lovegood about a fort- night after his departure, sending him the most de- sirable information he himself.could possibly have wished to have received, as it respected his visit to Locksbury. This letter threw an abundance of la-- bor into the hands of that attentive and invaluable servant of God. He had first to write Mr. Reader. a letter, half as long as a sermon, for his own private instruction ; then he conceived it necessary to aid Mr. Reader, in giving him some heads of sermons,. upon a better plan than what he formerly adopted : and, besides all this, he had to write a variety of letters to each of his new friends at Locksbury ; as. from the state of spiritual ignorance in which he found them, he thought it necessary to give them 234 DIALOGUE XXXIV. : individually, a copious share of his wise, and paste advice. While thus engaged, he received a letter from his old friend, Mr. Slapdash, informing him of his inten tion to give him a visit: for though he had never seen him since his removal from Abley, yet, that now, providence seemed to grant him a release, he hoped they might be indulged with an interview with each ether, from the following cause: His church was much out of repair, and wanted also a considerable enlargement. He had been reading prayers, and preaching in the Church yard, as long as the season ' would permit, that on this account he should have about three sabbaths to spare before the public ser- vice could recommence. This unexpected event, gave Mr. Lovegood an opportunity to repeat his visit to Locksbury, much sooner than he intended ; s : having been brought to a determination thereby, to ) pass the first sabbath with Mr. Slapdash at Brookfield; and thew offer his services at Locksbury, for the two last sabbaths, his good old friend meant to continue in those parts. Matters being thus settled, Mr. Love- good immediately determined upon a considerable abridgment of his epistolary design as a personal in- terviéw with his new friends was likely so soon te be renewed. On the arrival of Mr. Slapdash, the reader may expect a further narration of events DIALOGUE XXXV. “THE REV. MR. SLAPDASH, MR. MERRYMAN, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. THE FOLLY AND EVILS OF SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EX- ' POSED: TOGETHER WITH A FURTHER ILLUSTRATION OF THE CHARACTER OF MR. SLAPDASH. At the time appointed, Mr. Slapdash arrived at Brookfield. He first went to the Vicarage; but as Mr. Lovegood’s house, and pocket, were tad scanty to deal much in the entertainment of others, he was immediately conducted to Mr. Worthy’s, where he was most affectionately received, according to the standing order of that hospitable house. Here Mr. Slapdash first met with Mr. and Mrs. Merryman, who were there on a visit, after their mar- riage. ‘The unmeaning compliments of the people of the world, are never needed among those who “ love the Lord Jesus in sincerity :” Mr. Slapdash says, he never had any, and therefore never attempted to fa- bricate them. The courtesy of the Christian being composed of better materials however, was not want- ing. A deal of conversation naturally took place, as it related to that variety of events, which have al- ready been made known to the reader. . These were heard.with delight, and rapture by Mr. Slapdash, and attended with ‘such remarks, as might naturally be expected from one of his warm, and animated, yet affectionate, turn of mind. Mr Lovegood however, was very desirous to hear — 236 DIALOGUE XXXV. how matters stood at Abley, after he had been dis- missed from his curacy; and one morning, after breakfast, Mr. Worthy being detained at home on some busipess as 2 magistrate, the three ministers walked around the pleasure grounds, when the fol- lowing conversation took place. —a=— Loveg. I am anxious to know how matters are at Abley since I left them. Does Mr. Steepleman con- tinue in the curacy, who was sent to succeed me, when [ received my dismissal ? Slapd. Aye, he has been preaching up the Chureh, till he has driven almost all the people out of the Church ; and has been preaching against schism, till they are all turned schismatics, at least in his esteem, throughout the neighbourhood. Mer. What sort of a character is he? Slapd. Why, he is half a papist.—In some of i high flying notions, he is quite a papist. “Loveg. Hush! Hush! my good brother you a ways speak so vehemently. Slapd.. There is no taking the devil by the nose, but with a pair of tongs :* and I am sure Mr. Steeple- ’ man’s doctrines is ‘completely popish, and where can that lead to, but to the devil. . ' Loveg. A heavy charge, brother Slapdash ! : Slapd. No more than just, be it ever so heavy. Who can bear the thought, that a set of ruined sin- ners should have their eyes, and hopes turned from God, to seek for salvation in outward Churches, as they are called, and in the tricks of priests ? Mer. ['To Lovegood. ] Why, there is a dea! of truth in the observation ; thousands, in different ways, are deluded®by these means : I shall take sides with * Alluding to apopish legendary story, respecting St. Das stan; when the ceeleneod binnal a tempter, heme took. him. by the nose with a pair of tongs. ~ ~ SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 237 Mr. Slapdash. But do Sir, be more particular about _ Mr. Steepleman’s religion. ' Slapd. Sir, salvation with him is just the same as with the papists. . He has scarcely any thing to urge, bat that “you must keep yourself in the church, and trust in her priesthood.” As to our good old re- formers, while they universally charged the Church ‘of Rome as Antichrist, Mr. Steepleman tells us, she is the true old Christian Church, and the mother of us all; and that though in some things it might have been necessary to reform, yet that in others we have gone too far. ‘The power of the keys, in his favourite topic, and that Jesus Christ has delegated, all the powers of salvation to the priesthood, who can tum . and turn out, lock in, and Ieck out, just as they ‘please. He says the- Reformers ruined the Church, by giving up confession and absolution. _ Mer. It seems, that Mr. Deliberate spent twe years of his time in Ireland, before he came into ‘these parts ; and he gives an awfukaccount, of the horrid evils of priestcraft in that country. He tells ‘us, that thousands of the poor ignorant papists, :can live in open violation of the pure and holy laws of God, without the least apparent remorse; but di- ‘rectly as they transgress the laws of their Charch, or the directions of their priesthood, they are alarmed at ‘the consequences, as though certain damnation were just about to overtake them ; and I fear that Mr, Sage s religion, is but one shade better.* Eoveg. How many thousands there are, of all Miterclsome sects, ‘“‘ who make void the law through their traditions ;” and how terribly are the consci- ences of sinners, screened from conviction, and har- ‘dened in sin thereby ! Slapd. Now, I said it, and I think I can stand to iit, that Mr. Steepleman is quite a papist at least as far ti this-goes. First, he supposes, should a man live like a devil, yet, if he be of the true Church, it will - See much of this in Sir R. Musgrave’ s account of the late bellion in Ireland. —- 238 DIALOGUE XXXV. prove a great step towards his salvation; but, on thé contrary, should a man live like an Angel, and be what he calls a schismatic, through this damnable sin, the most tremendous consequences are to be ex- pected ; and as to priests, he will have it, that the efficacy of their functions, is in their office, and is not at all affected by their characters ; so that a priest, though as wicked as sin can make him, in himself, has” a power, by a sort of spiritual conjuration, to send others to heaven, while he himself, if wickedness can take him thither, is going fast for hell—Is not Po popery ! Mer. Indeed Mr. Slapdash, it is popery down right. ~~ ee [smiling.] I thought brother Slapdash would soon make you a convert. Slapd. Why cannot you remember, when you wal curate at Abley, that you preached in my Church, at a meeting of Ministers; and what a sermon you gave us on thattext, ‘‘ Having the form of godliness, but denying the power :” and how you explained to us, that excellent definition of a sacrament we have in the Church catechism, that, in itself it was only “an outward and visible sign, of an inward and be ritual grace ;” and was only meant as a pledge, or token of the divine mercies ? Don’t you recollect, how you ript up all the lying hopes of those who trusted in these outward signs, and formal Churches, instead of seeking for the inward and spiritual grace? and the absurdity that some have fallen into, who sup- pose that the outward ceremony of baptism, creates the inward regeneration of the heart?—I think Sh were Slapdash on that occasion. Mer. Well, well, we must all give up the ‘pein The consequences are really awful, when such wretchi- _ ed substitutes are permitted to occupy the mind, in- stead of the realities of the gospel. Just so far asa vain confidence in Churches and priests prevails, the need of that which is inward, and spiritual, will sink in ouresteem. “The kingdom of God is withiag you,” SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 239 Slapd. Yes, and one evil is almost sure to beget another. When you [to Mr. Lovegood,] were cu- rate of Abley, what were the grand objects the poor people were directed to seek after? What you felt, you immediately began to preach, that you and all your congregation were a set of ruined sinners: se that if you had not had Christ to set before them, in his justifying blood, and righteousness, and sanctifying spirit, you had all been in “despair together ; ; and this you know was the top and bottom of all your preach- ing; and you remember in what a loving, uniting spirit, you were then all kept as one, having nothing in view “‘ but the one thing needful.” But when Mr. Steepleman came with his chaff,no wonder that such as felt any thing like a spiritual appetite, were constrained to seek after something better ; and I wish with all my heart, that they could have found what they sought after. But here from one extreme, they were hurried into another ; for, while they were driven from the Church by the disgustful trumpery of Mr. Steepleman, they unfortunately hit upon a Mr. Stiff, who it seems, first made an unsuccessful at- tempt to get into the established Church, though af- terwards he put himself under the tuition of a Dr. Buckram, and then turned out one of the most nar- rew-minded, rigid dissenters, I ever met with in all my life. Having procured a license, he preaches in the farm house where Mrs. Goodworth lived ; and while Mr. Steepleman keeps railing at separatists, and schismatics, Mr. Stiff will be casting out his inyectives against the church, and all establishments ; and conceitedly insists upon it, that their church government is the only one exactly modelled according to the word of God, and the practice of the primitive Christians ; and it is said, that at some of their dis- yenting ordinations, he has been most abominably jabusive. | Mer. Oh, the terrible consequences of these con- jtreversies about mere empty forms! For after all, who are the people that constitute the real church in 7 240 DIALOGUE XXXV. the sight of Ged? Why penitent believers, wher convened together, of every party. How dreadful when any, who are thus saved, and blessed, are foun to anatiematize, and condemn each other! ' ' Loveg. How much it is to be lamented, that a mai of a meek and mild turn of mind, could not have bee found to instruct the poor people, when they were under the necessity.of seeking, for instruction from another quarter. For although it may appear, he well designed the established Church is in itself, for the conveyance of general instruction; yet still, in variety of instances, through the badness of her patronage, and prevalence of corruption, every candid clergyman must acknowledge the end designed thereby, is by no means accomplished. Were the the work of public instruction confined, merely to any establishment, however good, the evil complained of would be necessarily increased. It is therefore evident, that something is needful to be done, which after all, cannot be done by the members of any established church. ‘Therefore what an impedimen it is to the advancement of the general good, when people are contending about outward forms, while none of these things are precisely settled in the wor of God ! : ie Slapd. Mr. Stiff would have given you a Se trimming, if he had heard you advance that doe trine. : a Loveg. I suppose he would, and almost every ex- elusive sect, on the most ill-grounded pretensions, has” claimed the same ; but as for my part, I can find no- thing more in the. Bible respecting. these: matters, than that the primitive Christians lived in connectet harmony, and friendship with each other ;' that elde1 or overseers, or bishops,* if you please to call u so, were ordained, or appointed in different citi to govern the juniors; and sometimes we hear many of these elders, who presided over one and same congregation, which happens to be the plai * These words in scripture, are evidently of the same import, SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 241 English of the word church ; and some of these it seems, had the public management, or superintend- ance of the people, while others of them, were its public teachers. - Mer. Why don't you think that all these elders, or bishops, were teachers? Loveg. Bynomeans. That passage evidences the reverse: ‘‘ Let the elders that rule well, be counted worthy of double honor, especially they who labor in the word, and doctrine ;” and we hear the word of direction given to the people respecting these ; ‘“ to know them who labor among them, and are over them in the Lord, and admonish them: and to es- teem them very highly in love, for their works’ sake ;” or, as we have it elsewhere, “obey them that have ‘the rule over you, and submit yourselves, for they watch for your souls, as they that must give account.” It is strange, that from such simple rules, different parties should have formed such various conclusions, and then act with such anathematizing severity, to- wards each other. Mer. Why, it appears to me impossible, that a precise mode of discipline, could have ever been fixed in the New Testament, circumstances as they then were, being soon afterwards exceedingly altered. We cannot suppose that the ministry of the twelve apos- tles, or of the seventy disciples, was meant as a stand- ‘ing order for the church, otherwise every preacher must continue a perpetual itinerant. Though the same need of an apostolical spirit, will ever remain, ‘because, from the corrupted state of the human race, the Church is continually apt to decline ; and without ee revivals, we should be in a wretched state in- eed. _ Loveg. It is evident from the epistle to the Corin- thians, that the mode of worship among the primi- tive Christians, was very different from that, which imafter ages was necessarily adopted. While the ex- traordinary influences of the Holy Spirit, rested VOL. Il. Y 242 DIALOGUE XXXV. upon the church, full liberty of speaking was soa to all, even to the women, without any limitation. Mer. Do you then think that some of the wom were public preachers in those days ? Y Loveg. They certainly were; for the apostle. rects them how to preach, with their heads veiled, covered, in the public assembly. “* Every woman th: prayeth or prophecieth, with her head uncovered, dis honoreth her head,” for that it was “ uncomely, a woman pray unto God uncovered.” Howey this general permission, for all to speak, was atten with some disorder, even in the purest ages of : church. And indeed it should appear, from the direc- tions given in St. Paul’s epistle to Timothy, and 'Titus, that somewhat more like a standing ministry, wo be wanted, when the immediate, and supernatural influences of the divine Spirit, should be withdraw We know indeed, that an attempt to revive this mo of public worship, has been made among the peop called Quakers, as though the same divine power existed, supposing that the immediate inflaences the blessed Spirit, are still to be expected, in order to qualify their public teachers, for their pub work. But alas! they also prove, that while o sect runs into one extreme, another can run into which is directly the reverse ; and thus they nat prove the weakness of each other’s pretensions. - appears therefore to me, that many things must na- turally have been left to future circumstances ill we should follow the general outlines of the word of God, and see that “all things be done decently, 7 in order.”* Slapd. When Mr. Stiff was ordained, it seems there was a great talk among them, that the right to the ministry entirely depended upon the election of the people. As to myself, I cannot recollect in wi place of scripture, that sentiment is revealed, being a part of the discipline of the New Tes chareh, ie * See 1 Cor. xi. ad fa, SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 243 _ Leveg. Nomore canI. And what is more extra- ordinary, I never could find out, that any one pastor was ordained as the settled teacher over any parti- eular church ;* and yet I most readily admit, that it is a very good human regulation, that people should have their stated ministers, and that proper means should be made use of, to provide a pure, and holy ministry, for the edification of the Christian church, and that the people’s choice, so far as they are fit to choose, should be properly consulted. It is astonish- ing that such disputants, cannot discover upon what a slight foundation, they ground their contentions inst each other. _ Slapd. O, how Mr. Stiff railed against our church episcopacy, though I believe, other dissenters, milder than he, are much ashamed of him for his vehement spirit; and what a dressing Mr. Steepleman gave him im return, on the following Sanday, as one of a set of sehismatics, insisfing, that it was impossible there could be a Christian church, without a Bishop at the head of it! How the devil must have been delighted at this ! _ Loveg. Well, but according to Mr. Stiffs plan of government, he needs not to have been alarmed at the name of Bishop, for his notions of equality in their __ * T have heard, that some have supposed this matter, from the allusion made to the Angels of the seven Asiatic churches ; tin my humble opinion, prophetic allusions, fall exceed- ingly short of positive proof. Others have also supposed, that the word xyeigorovew proves the point, from its derivation, to choose by the holding up of the hand ; but scarcely any terms at all times abide by their original derivation. We find this word twice in the New Testament. In 2 Cor. viii. 19, we are told of Titus, and another brother, who was chosen by the churches in Corinth, to take their alms to the Macedonians. ‘This might have appeared to the point, had it been to choose a minister! The other place is in Acts xiv. 23. where Paul, and | Barnabas, first travelled through different cities, confirming the churches, and then left them, after they had ordained or ehosen them elders in every city. It appears here then, the reverse to what might be expected. The Elders were ordained, not by the people, but by the Apostles. 244 DIALOGUE XXXV. Church discipline, render the whole body of the set of Bishops, or overseers among themselves, ; the rule equally belongs to all: such are the clashin, between Mr. Steepleman, and Mr. Stiff. No wond at the terrible confusion created on every side of tl question, by such extremes ; but with the leave of Stiff, and Mr. Steepleman, something more moderate j might have been the discipline of the primitive Church. I never could see the great improbability, or impropriety in the idea, that when the Church be- gan to be considerably enlarged, the presbyters, that they might make their government more compac among themselves, should think it necessary to ap= point a superintendant over their body ; as we have it in civil matters, a Mayor im a corporation, pre= siding among his ‘brethren, the elders, eldermen, or aldermen of the City : and what is there in ci that is either despicable, or absurd? aad this might have existed, without the least affinity “: that strange, wordly government, afterwards adopted in the times of darkness, by the Church of Rome. ag Slapd. But what a wonderful piece of work Miv Stiff made, in ordaining what he calles his seyen” Deacons. a Loveg. Why seven? Slapd. I suppose that he might closely imitate conduct of the apostles, who ordained seven Deac: as we find in the Acts. Loveg. Deacons! where are they called Deacons not in that chapter, but in the translator's preface, and that will not stand for inspiration; though the mary they have given to each Chapter, is react very correct, and good. Slapd. . What must we call them then? Loveg. Seven men of good report, as the Seriptu call them ;—and I suppose, their office was to at to the proper distribution of the estates, sold in tl times of persecution, when it was necessary, people should have all things common, that th might take that burden off the ‘Apostles’ hands, whose ie SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 245 sffice it was, to go about every where, preaching that men should repent. Slapd. Mr. Stiff has not adopted that into his pri- mitive discipline, though that might turn to his ad- vantage. : _ Loveg. Nor does he wash his disciples feet I sup- pose ; and yet these were scripture precedents, as well as the seven Deacons, as he supposes them tobe. If it be necessary that we should follow them in one point of view, F think we should in all ; or else at once admit, that each body of Christians should act for itself, as it judges best, only secluding the wicked from their communion, and still manifest towards each other, all that candour, and moderation, which the cause evidently demands. Slapd. Nay, but do not we hear of Bishops, and Deacons in the epistle to the Philippians? Loveg. Put the word in plain English, and it only means overseers, and servants ; and this accounts for it, why presbyters, or elders, are not mentioned on the’ ‘same list, because they are the same characters. _ Slapd. But is there not a particular account, how a set of people called deacons should act? - Loveg. That is how the servants should act, and ‘jn all other places in scripture, the same expression is translated servant, or minister ; and this point by a little attention, might easily be proved if we had -Ieisure.* _ * I lay before the reader an abridged criticism on this subject, printed on a former occasion. The word Aiaxeyes, though in very frequent use, is only translated deacon, in two places in the New Testament ; once in 1 Tim. iii. where the word is carried through the chapter ; and in Paul’s dedicatory address to the Philippian church. NowlI really conceive, strange as it may appear, that the mistake arose from a Popish original ; that communion being over fond of gat- _nishing their church, by a multiplicity of officers, and pretended _ mystical ideas, adopted, in their vulgate Latin translation, ab- struse expressions, only calculated to mislead. Hence the word IlzpaxAnros must be by them translated Paracletus, so they have endered it in English Paraclete; in our translation, by the 246 DIALOGUE XXXV. Slapd. Then we may as well say, thbse three honest men who are digging in that shrubbery, are some of Mr. Worthy’s deacons. more plain and easy term, the Comforter. So by the same Popish translators, only in the two instances quoted above, are treated with the barbarous word deacon ; and our langu knows nothing of the character, but as received from them. illustrate this, how preposterously would it have sounded, h it been translated, Christ was “‘ made a deacon of the circu sion!” there translated minister, Rom. xv. 8. And still mon so, Is Christ the deacon.of sin? There also minister, Gal. ii. 1 Thus again Christ speaks of his worshippers, “‘ Where I there shall my deacons be :” there rendered servants, John 26.—St. Paul speaking of the civil magistrate, says, “He isa deacon of God to thee for good,” Rom. xv. 4. People lit think, that the lord-mayor of London is a deacon, or rather archdeacon, he being the first magistrate of the metropolis. Phocbe, “a servant of the church,” should, to have kept up this translation, been called a deacon of the church ; and, if word be better than another, she well deserved it. But it wo have been a curious translation indeed, had it been render “Who then is Paul, or who is Apollos, but deacons, by wh ye believed ?” properly called ministers, 1 Cor. iii. 5. Simi to this, ‘ Whereof I, Paul, am made a dzacon :” that is, mini Col. i. 23 ; and again, ver. 25. “ And so Timothy, the Gre- clan bishop, is also called a deacon.” ‘If thou put the inh shren in mind of these things, thou shalt be called a good dea= eonof Jesus Christ,” better translated minister. See also Thess. ili. 2. So also, had our translators gone through with the coinage, and rendered the verb A:axovew to deaconize, th would have been nearly as preposterous : for then it wo have ran, “ The mother of Peter's wife being healed of her fever, arose and deaconized unto them,” Matt. viii. 15. So iti said, “‘ Our conversation is always to be to the use of edifying, that it may deaconize grace to the hearers,” Eph. iv. 9. The women who ministered to our poor Savior of their substance, that we through his poverty,’ might be made rich, are said t have deaconized unto him, instead of administered. And again, The Son of man came not to be deaconized unto, but to deaco ize, Matt. xx. 18. And as a further proof of the clumsy ef fects of this aukward, unmeaning, new-inyented word, even th damned themselves are represented as saying, “ Lord, whe saw ve thee sick, &c. and did not deaconize unto thee >?” Matt xxvil.55. And to finish my criticisms on this subject, Juda was a deacon; unless it can be proved that the person who do the office, is not the officer; for thus stands the original wore ““ He was numbered with us, and obtained a part of this de md SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. “247 _. Mer. Yes, and that poor woman, and her daugh- ter, who are picking up the loose stones from off the lawn, are two more of his deacons? Slapd. What would Mr. Stiff say, if he were pre- sent, to hear all this about his deacons ? __ Mer. And what must we may, about our deacons also ? _ Loveg. Why, that Mr. Stiff and ourselves have both mistaken their real office, or character ; and however wise it may be, to put men into a probationary state of orders, yet it would have been wiser still, to have given them another name. Slapd. And what must become of our archdeacons also? Oh how Mr. Stiffused to play it off against that order of our Church clergy ! Loveg. Why, in point of positive institution, Mr. Stiff's Deacons, and our Deacons, and Archdeacons also, seem pretty nearly on a par ; only we are not so strenuous to contend for their divine appointment. However, had our good Reformers reduced the size of our Bishoprics, aud dispensed with this race of second- conship.—A.:axouia, more properly ministry. And yet this dea- ‘conal office was the apostolic office. Acts i. 15. brings this to “a point: “‘ that he,” the elected person, Matthias, “‘ may take this ministry, deaconship, and apostleship, from which Judas by ‘twansgression fell.” Many other criticisms of the same sort, “might have been brought forward to prove, that a deacon'is no ‘new officer, only a servant. Upon the whole, it appears to me, that some good people have been misled by the barbarous word deacon, and mistaken the servant for the elder. Dr. Owen, while he pleads for the independency of the churches, as it is called, yet strongly urges the necessity of the existence of a little presbytery, for the internal management of those churches. ‘I believe a variety of Christian congregations, would be much ‘more happy among themselves, if instead of being governed “by old men, and maidens, young men, and children, provid- ed they call on the name of the Lord,” and are admitted into their communion, they had constituted among themselves, such | a sort of a spiritual committee, for the management of their: ‘church concerns. _I insert this criticism, that all parties may be less positive, and more candid and affectionatetowards each other, and to see if I cannot bring Mr. Stiff, and Mr. Steeple- | Man, nearer together. | 1 ; 248 DIALOGUE XXXV. hand bishops, our Chureh discipline had been nearer the model of. the primitive times. Yet after all, Esee very little, if any, impropriety in the office of ‘our Archdeacons, if they did but seriously attend to th: office, as coadjutors in the episcopal work, by stirring up the clergy in their different distriets, toa more di ligent discharge of their sacred works ; so that if Mir, Stiff chuses to keep to his Deacons, and we to our Archdeacons, as mere names are of little or no consé- quence, we should act much more consistent with tl spirit, and temper of the gospel. Ti Mer. Really, it appears to me, as though Apostles, and their successors in the ministry, they had received their commission, acted as cire stances seemed to direct them, without laying d any plan of regular operations for oe or successors. - Loveg. So it ever appeared to me. And if’ this sounds loose in the ears of some bigots, who insist upon it, that their’s is the only form prescribed in the word of God, we need not to be under any great ap- prehension, from the mismanagement of these outward matters: each party takes into consideration fhe pu rity, and spirituality of the word of God; and, ae cording to their different modes of government, they direct their Churches agreeably to that excellent rule. Slapd. I wish both Mr. Steepleman, and Mr. Stiff were within your reach, that you might give em | good lecture for their bigotry. : Loveg. Though I utterly dislike controversy of. this sort, yet, as I equally hate the bad consequences of bigotry, I should not care if they were. I would then ask Mr. Steepleman, what would become of his high Church, episcopal religion, were he to pass the’ Pweed into Scotland, where the established religon is pr byterian ? Then he immediately becomes 3 dissen or, to speak in his own proud language, “ ‘he v be living in schism, against the established religion that country ; and would maintain, that there'were Christian Church, because they have no Bishops.” SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 249 +» Slapd. And consequently they are all going to hell together, though their hearts may be as full of grace, as his head is full of these strange, high-church ima- ginations. I think you might also ask, where is the harm, if a Scotsman should continue a presbyterian in England? and where is the harm of an English- “man being an episcopalian in Scotland ? Have I a right to knock a man’s brains out, because he is a Jew, or a Mahometan ? Therefore how much more horrid, when they, who call themselves Protestant Christian’, cannot have the least Christian charity, one towards another! I believe there is not a party bigot upon earth, that would not persecute if he could. Blessed be God, for a more enlarged heart, that we may love all that love God, and love to obey Loveg. And upon this principle, my good old friend, [ feel it would be my privilege, to hold Chris- ‘tian communion with every protestant Church upon earth. Were I in Germany, it would never bea question with me, Are you Lutherans, or Calvinists, ‘but are you Christians? Nor would it distract my brains, or concern me, if their modes, and forms did not altogether suit my judgment, or taste ; and were I to attempt the reformation of such matters at the ex- ce of peace, I should do abundantly more harm than good thereby. As in the Church, so itis, ina great measure, inthe state. Have I, or has any one else, a right to go from state to state, and try to over- turn their different existing governments, because they are not modelled according to that which 1 so much admire in my own? This would be like an unskilful surgeon, who would hazard a mortification for the sake of cutting off a wart. I wish people would but act more according to that excellent prayer in our Church liturgy, that we may be “ kept in the unity of the spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life.”* . * It may not be amiss, to remind every high Churchman of Mr. Steepleman’s spirit, of a passage that is to be found in the 250 DIALOGUE XXXYV, Slapd. Ah Church liturgy! how Mr. Stiff rails a Church liturgies, while his own prayers, with a ver little variation, are as much a form as any of ours and I am sure, not more scriptural, nor yet x spiritual ! r Loveg. I suppose then, we should have but a bag bargain of it, if we were to exchange our form fo his. But what are their psalms, and hymns, but forn of prayer, or praise? 1 think the least he can do, ist let us alone with our forms, while he is go forn himself. It would have been well if the poor pe of Abley could have met with such a man as Peaceful, instead of Mr. Stiff. a Mer. Was not Mr. Peaceful. the Minister wh was in the habit of visiting Mrs. Goodworth? I he often heard you mention his name with much appro: bation. oe Loveg. O! he wasa man of a most excellent spirit and, though from principle he was a dissenter, yet beginning of the Common Prayer Book, Concerning the s of the Chareh, as it breathes then apitit of true Christian candor that should never be forgotten. : ‘“* And inthese our doings, we condemn no other nation nor prescribe any thing but to our own le only, for we Rink it convenient, that every country sho d use such cere monies, as they shall think best, to the setting forth God's honor, and glory, and to the reducing of the people, to a mos perfect, and godly living, without error, or superstition.” Ha they adopted the practice of such liberal sentiments neare home, would not the Church of England have shone more, & being possessed of the temper, and spirit of the chureh’ Christ ? and which of her advocates will vindicate that spi mest able, and excellent ministers of the established churel of Scotland, though precisely under the same civil prote with our own, are perfectly secluded from any connexion ¥ our establishment. How often have I heard, even candid dissenting ministers lament the fact, that while the ord of a Popish priest, is deemed valid, so that after reca no further ordination is demanded ; yet if a protestant ministe of any country, wishes to join her community, reordinat is rigidly required ! SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED 251 nothing could equal his love to all, who “loved the Lord Jesus in sincerity.” Every thing that was bit- ter, and railing, he utterly abhorred, while he was the kindest apologist for all, however he might differ from them in things not essential ; and while he would make an apology for himself, as it respected our Church liturgy, to which he could not well subscribe, yet he would admire its general tendency, and even would say, with its few defects, that he esteemed it to be one of the national blessings of the land, as a general knowledge of the truths of the gospel, was thereby wonderfully preserved. Mer. It is much to be lamented, that we should lose the services of so good aman, on account of such scruples of conscience. _ Loveg. Notat all. The Dissenters are a very use- fal body; and in numberless instances, nothing can be done without them. » Mer. I hope you will except Mr. Stiff, and his fra- ternity. _ Loveg. With all my heart. But these good men may work where we cannot, and in many places where their aid is deplorably needed ; and why should we wish all the good men to work in one line ?---It is amazing what an abundance of good, Mr. Peaceful does among all the Dissenters in these parts, his spirit is so tender and good. Mer. 1 suppose Mr. Peaceful might havehad some other objections against conformity. | _ Loveg. Yeshehad. His principal objection seems to have been, the much lamented want of discipline, as also the too near affinity between the Church and state: but then he would candidly acknowledge, as it was national, it could scarcely be expected to be otherwise; and that national establishments, like all human things, must have their advantages, and disad- vantages ; that consequently, as the state had a right paper choice about religion, so the Dissenters were left at full liberty to chuse for themselves; and that it was no more right. for the Dissenters to attack the : 4 252 DIALOGUE XXXV. established Church, than it would be for the establishe Church to oppress the Dissenters. But nothing di lighted Mr..Peaceful’s mind so much, as to make his annotations on St. Paul’s view about the distinction of meats, and days, and of meats offered to idols which exemplifies so much of the forbearing mind of Christ, in the character of that Apostle.* “a Mer. Sir, my mind has been much occupied that subject of late. How much the Apostle urges the meekness, and gentleness, of the Christian ch racter ! Slapd. One wonders that an angry bigot, can live after he has read those chapters, if he has the grace of God in his heart. ae Mer. A bigot with the grace of God in his heart! Two principles, strangely opposite, and these to be the inhabitants of the same bosom! But let us re- tire into this pleasant retreat, and talk these matter over more seriously : the weather is delightfully mild, for this advanced seasen of the year, and I fear thi subject is too much overlooked, I am sure it has beer so by me. [They sit down, and the conversation r commences. | Zz Loveg. [With a small Greek Testament in h hand.] Nothing can equal the tenderness of the apo tle’s mind in the 14th of the Romans. You know that this chapter refers to those Christians, whose minds were not perfectly free from Jewish prejudices and, though they ill understood the holy liberty F * vA * Nothing is more to be lamented, than the angry spirit with which these different controversial writers, treat each other, while the high churchman rails at the schismatical, 0} every party, with the most superstitious contempt, the dis senter in return, will exaggerate the most trifling causes fo dissent, against the churchmen, in language equally uncandid, and unfair, I forbear to mention the names of several autho) of this angry cast. The writer was exceedingly sorry to find, that on the wrapper, Dr. Gill’s reasons for dissent, opps ed ( seven of the numbers of this publication, without tl e author’ knowledge, and consent, which the publisher immediately withdrew, at the author’s request a SECTARIAN EIGOTRY EXPOSED 253 gospel, and their consciences were consequently iscuided ; yet still it was in matters, not essential to salvation. o'These, while thus “weak in faith, were = received, but net to doubtful disputations,” or ‘other words, to unnecessary wranglings, and dis- assions. ‘The dispute ran in this chapter, it should jeem, upon keeping Jewish seasons, and eating meats cording to the Jewish law: this was certainly for want of better knowledge; and yet what a kind apo- logist ‘St. Paul was for them, in regard to eating meats Ceremonially ‘impure! What a ‘spirit of love he in- by that observation. ‘‘ Let not him that eat- , despise him that eateth not; and Jet not him hich eateth not, jadge him that eateth, for God hath teceived him:” “ Who art thou that judgest another man’s servant? To his own master he manele or ; yea, he shall be upholden, for Ged is able te ish him.” In the same spirit he goes on about ‘only observing, “ Let every man be fully per- in his own mind ;” and I remember, that ws vorite expression with Mr. Peaceful. ora I wish it had been a favorite expression Mr. Stiff, it might have made a better man of him. - Loveg. Aye, and of Mr. Steepleman too ; but let t them both, and mind the lovely remark of the Apostle on the subject : ‘He that regardeth the , Tregardeti it unto the Lord: and he that re- fdeth. no’ the day, to the Lord he doth not regard : he that eateth, eateth nnto the Lord, fer he giveth od thanks; and he that eateth not, to the Lord he th not, and giveth God thanks ;” that is, on both es of the question, they acted according to their ht, and consequently were not to be judged of each Mer. And what a lovely conclusion he draws from it} “For none of us liveth to himself, and no man ‘dieth unto himself! For whether we live, we live ‘anto the Lord: whether we die, we die unto the Lord ; whether we live therefore, or die, we are the ord’s.” “Whata aaa change must have been yoL. Il. Osh DIALOGUE XXXV. ‘ wrought upon the mind of this once stiff, bigotte persecutor, to make him so much the reverse to him- self, so gentle, and so mild ! re Loveg. But 1 think this most lovely spirit, is still more richly displayed in what the Apostle further re. marks: “ Let us not therefore, judge one anothe any more, but judge this rather, that no man pw stumbling block (or cause of scandal) in his brother's way. I know, and am persuaded, by the Lord Jesu: that there is nothing unclean in itself, (though before the coming of the Lord Jesus, many things were pro: hibited as being unclean;) but still to him who es- teemeth any thing unclean, to him it is unclean, And now mind, what a lovely conclusion he x draws: “But if thy brother be grieved with meat, now walkest thou not charitably or (accordi to love) destroy not him with thy meat, for whe Christ died.”* ‘Let not then your good be e spoken of ; for the kingdom of God is not meats an drinks, but righteousness and peace, and joy in Holy Ghost.” e Slapd. Stop there brother Lovegood, for an ment, that’s the point.---If any could go to the with such blessed, excellent tempers, I should like go with such for the sake of good company ; ¢ then let aset of violent bigots, curse and excomm cate each other, as hard, and as fast as they can, of account of a set of non-essential punctilios ; provi we can live together on earth, as believing that t t same heaven, if. we are blessed with the same m is to receive us all at the last. * The reader may find, that Mr. Lovegood, in reading. his Greek Testament, made some slight alterations in the text, which, after all, are so insignificant, that they prove how well the public may ‘confide in the present translation. Buton that expression, “‘ destroy not him for whom Christ died, ” he firs remarked, that the drift of the argument was onl to shew how the eace of such was destroyed, and not ba vies He, ot according to clection could not stand, if the lof. an siey bigot should strive to prevent it. He further shewed that such were at least the attempts of such angry bigots, hie ever unsuccessful those attempts might prove. SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 255 Loveg. You will speak like yourself. But it is next said, that “if in these things they serve Christ, they are acceptable to God, and approved of men.” There is no hell for the holy, nor heaven for the unholy : in- deed we have heaven in us upon earth, when we are holy. But do let us finish our observations on the chapter, which I conclude to be one of the best recipes to cure the bigotry of the human heart. “‘ Let us therefore, pursue the things which lead to peace, and the things whereby one may edify, or build up ano- ther; for meat destroy not the work of God.” Now in my opinion, this evidently refers to those for whom Christ died, and who are the workmanship of his Spi- rit. Then we see how the Apostle next observes, that through the liberty of the gospel dispensation, “ all ‘things are pure ; but that it is evil to a man who éateth with offence,” against his own judgment. “ Therefore it is good neither to eat flesh, or drink wine,” by which a weak brother stumbleth, is .of- fended or made weak. MHast thou faith, have it to ‘thyself before God. Happy is he who condemneth not himself in that which he allows, for he thai doubts” about these matters ‘‘ is condemned” in his own judgment “if he eat,” for want of this faith of knowledge ; ‘for whatsoever is not of faith, is sin. : _ Slap?. 1 wish the worthy translators of the New ‘Testament, had used a milder word in their transla- tion of that passage. Mrs. Scruple, a good woman in our parish, one of a very conscientious turn of mind, was kept from the sacrament a long time, till f explained matters to her, and gave her to understand, that the passage had no reference whatsoever to the sacrament ; and that the passage, which still more alarmed her about eating, and drinking our own dam- Nation, did not mean eternal damnation, but a tem- poral judgment, as was evidently then the case of the Corinthian church: “ For this cause many are weak, and sickly among you, and many sleep.” : Leveg. I fear many god people are sadly puzzled 256 DIALOGUE XXXV. - about such passages as these; but then we shoul take more abundant heed to explain them.* " Mer. It has oftentimes struck me, that much ¢ the same excellent temper, and spirit is likewisemar fested by the Apostle, not only as it respects me and days, but also in things offered to idols: 1 fe; that this subject-also, among, common people, is bi little understood. % Loveg. As we have a little time before us, we w trace that subject also. You know that the heath in those days, adopted a superstitious trick, in offer D the beasts they killed at the shambles, to some ot he heathen deities. A’ portion of the offerings was so and another portion of them was eaten in the id temples ; while some, even of the. primitive Christiai of a looser cast, too many of whom were found the Corinthian Church, were frequently seen sitting the idols’ temples, and eating these offerings wi others, as though they were idolaters too. The Apo tles therefore, very justly blames them, for this a 5 and wanton conduct: for though they knew that idol was nothing, and the food neither the’ better, m the worse for their superstitious conduct; yet wh weaker brethren were offended thereby, that alter the case. Whata spirit of love he exemplified, whet he said, “If meat make my weak brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world stands!” © +> Slapd. Oh, how soon would these bitter controve sies about trifling won-essentials be at an end, if a were blessed with the same spirit of love! and wha' a distinction the Apostle makes, between’ that proud “‘ knowledge which puffeth up, and that humble love which edifieth !” . ' ou) fae Loveg. Yes, and how kindly he apologizes f those, who in judgment differed from himself! «Hoy beit, there is not in every man this knowledge? for some with conscience of the idol, unto this hour, eal it as a thing offered unto an idol, and their conscience * This subject is more largely explained in Dialog the 5th. t' SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 257 being weak is defiled? but meat commendeth us not to God: for neither if we eat are we the better, neither if we eat not are we the worse.” But then we are to take heed, lest this liberty should become a stumbling block to them that are weak ; for “ if we sin against the brethren, and wound their consciences, we sin against Christ.” _ Mer. Has not the Apostle some additional remarks of the same nature, in the tenth chapter of the same epistle ? Loveg. Yes, and most tender, and delightful re- marks they are. Oh! what is Christianity without the loving, and forbearing mind that was in Christ! But we will turn to them. He first observes, many _ things may be lawful that are not expedient, because they edify not: how beautifully therefore he directs, “ Let no man seek his own, but every man another’s wealth, or good!” And after some further direction, asit respects the weak consciences of others, what an admirable conclusion he draws ! ‘‘ Whether there- fore ye eat, or whether ye drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God ; give no offence, neither to the Jews, nor to the Gentiles, nor to” your brother Christiaris, called ‘‘the Church of God ; even as I please all men in all (lawful) things ; not seeking my own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved.” ~Slapd. And I think to this we may also add that most beautiful passage, which displays-so much of the same blessed temper, ‘‘ Unto the Jews, became I asa Jew, that I might gain the Jews: to them that are under the law, (ruled by the Jewish law,) as under the law ; , while he acted the same towards the Gentiles, as being without law, that he might “ gain them also.” ‘“'To the weak, that I might gain the weak. I am made all things to all men, that I might ell means save some ; and this I do for the gospel’s éake.” _Mer. Then it should appear, the crime was not in differing in judgment »wvith others; for it seems. 258 DIALOGUE XXXV. they differed even with the Apostle himself, but shewing such a contentious spirit against each othe < One would think that this breed of coarse Christians, had never read: the thirteenth of the first of Corim thians, concerning that charity or love, ‘ which suf. fereth long, and is kind, that envieth not, that yaunt eth not itself, that is not easily. puffed 3 == Let ne see, I forget what comes next. Loveg. Why, that love is a modest grace ; ‘it de s “not behave itself unseemly :” that itis a disinterested grace; it seeketh not its own: that itis a peaceabl grace ; ‘it is not easily provoked :” that itis anaffec tionate grace: “it thinketh no evil.” It is also a most happy, and comfortable grace ;. for it rejoiceth not ix imiquity ; ; but it rejoiceth in the truth: and lastly, it is a most patient grace; it “ beareth all. things, b lieveth all things, hopeth all things, and endureth a things.” 7 Mer. While mankind are so corrupted, what nee have we for the exercises of these graces inwards to each other! [To Mr. Lovegood.] Sir, when ] heard you preach, that naturally sent me to the Biblé, and I was immediately convinced, that the religion 6 that book was the religion of love: and I now esteem it a mercy, that I had none of these educational. pre+ judices to contend with. ond Slapd. Do not run from the aon my young friend, as I sometimes do, when I get into the pulpit, till my text brings me back again. | What become: ef the religion of Mr. Steepleman, or ~gie ara: if this be the religion of the Bible?) ta) 3 Loveg. Oh, my good old friend, pt a Ba nan ever convinced of this, when I consider other passages which have such a remarkably strong: reference to our tempers, and the feelings of our minds, on these occasions, before God. How much of the mind of Christ appears in that passage ‘to the Ephesians! “T therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech. you, that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, with all lowliness, and meekness, SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 259 long suffering, forbearing one another in love, en- _deavuring to keep the unity of the spirit, in the bond of peace.” ‘ | Mer. And what a heaven even upon earth we should enjoy, if all the people did but prove the reality of their Christianity, by following the same Apostle’s advice, in ‘‘laying aside all anger, wrath, and ma- lice ;” and instead of these, “as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long suffering, for- bearing one another, forgiving one another: if any man have a quarrel against any, even as Christ fore gave us ;’ and then again, “ above all things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness.” % de . Lovey. Oh, this is Christianity indeed! I once heard of a Deist, who could ridicule the Bible, while he was entirely ignorant of its contents, anddesign, Bur when he was referring to the twelfth of the Romans, he was not only struck with the purity, and sublimity of the subject, but at his own wickedness, and folly, for having ridiculed a book, so wonderfully calculated to promote the good of mankind: and how admirably are these blessed tempers inculcated in the same chap- ter! * Let love be without dissimulation ; abhor that which is evil, cleave to that which is good ; be kindly affectionate one to another with brotherly love, in honor preferring one another.” ~ Slapd. Almost the whole chapter runs upon that subject ; but the conclusion is most excellent: ‘* Re- eompence to no man evil for evil. If it be possible, live peaceably with allmen. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath. ‘Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.” Mer. We shall have enough to do, if we quote all the passages that relate to this subject: the sum Es substance of the Bible, seems to be nothing but 40ve. t ~Slapd. 1 am sure all the epistles of John, are en- | 260 ‘DIALOGUE XXXV. tirely on that subject. “ Beloved, let us love one ano ther, for love is of God; and every one that loveth, is born of God, and knoweth God.” . Loveg. Aye, born of God ; and by that word, how evidently it appears, we have no solid proof of rege neration, but by its effects, as produced by the grace of love ; for “love is the fulfilling of the law.” Mer. The doctrine of a divine change seems te me, to be the glory of the scriptures. Loveg. Yes, and a full proof of their divine origi- nal. None but a God of almighty power, could dar to give the promise to change the heart of man, sine nothing short of such an almighty power can accom pblish a change so glorious. ’ Mer. I can put my solemn amen to that truth; I never can be too much humbled for what I was nor can I ever be too thankful for what, by the grace of God, 1 trust I now am. Qh, that text! « What know ye not that your bodies are the temples of the Holy Ghost, whichis in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? Ye are bonght with; price, therefore glorify God in your body, and yout spirit, which are God’s.” Slapd. It strikes me, I will preach upon that sub- ject in your church, when you are gone to Locks bury. Loveg. You cannot take a better. ; Slapd. But will you try to make me a hymn, suita- ble to the eccasion? for 1 am no poet. , Loveg. I will attempt to puta fewrhymes toge to the best of my power ; I can go no farther. —==e— , Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Worthy, and Merryman, came up, otherwise their profitable versation on the new birth, might haye continued. They took a further range about the pleasure “a and then returned to the house. ? Mr. Lovegood, shortly afterwards, went his s SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 26h |journey to Locksbury, which was no’ less grateful, and satisfactory to him, than the former.’ But. Dr. Rationality, Mr. Discussion, and others, took the pains ‘to procure Dr. Stately, and his curate, Mr. Leadhead, to whom Mr. Fribble very readily lent the aioe to confute the enthusiastic notions of Mr: Lovegood. But this they did in such an absurd, and contradictory manner, that they: entirely confuted themselves thereby. Dr. Stately held him out at arms’ length, with the most supercilious contempt, as be- ing hypocritically strict, and sanctimonious in his re- ligion, while his curate, Mr. Leadhead, could under; stand him no better, than that he was a preacher of faith without works ; both of them charging him also with several other preposterous notions, the most con- tradictory, and‘absurd; and the result was, that the peuple’s minds were uot a little confirmed in those essential truths, which Mr. Lovegood had. before ‘delivered among them. ) peo 3 > Myr. Lovegood also told: about a Mr. Timid, whom he found out in that neighbourhood; who, though he preaches the gospel, yet does it in such acold, and Cautious manner, that nobody is the better for it ; that he is ever pleading the necessity of so preaching, as not to give offence; and that he had no notion of exciting people’s prejudices, by being too plain. ‘Thus, while by attempting to render “‘ the preaching of the cross” of Christ palatable to the world, so as that “the offence of it might cease,” neither the world, nor the church would give him credit for his design. Mr. Lovegood however, is of opinion, that if he could be got to take some of Mr. Slapdash’s elixir, which, while it warms the constitution, and is an excellent stomachic, yet never throws into a fever, it might purge him of some of his worldly prudence, and thus make him a useful minister in those parts. As it is now high time to abridge all these events, nothing more shall be Jaid before the reader, than Mr, Lovegood’s hymn, made for Mr, Slapdash’s ser- mion, as mentioned above, 262 DIALOGUE XXXV. It seems, the sermon was much in his own sty When he had to display the regenerate heart of maj under the metaphor of the living temple, his ima; nation became so sprightly, and his language so mated, that it was almost a query with farmer tleworth, Thomas Newman, and many others, w ther he was not nearly as great a minister as Lovegood himself: however the reader may depe upon it, that Mr. Slapdash became a great favorite at Brookfield, and that his visit was attended with ar abundance of good, though it was the opinion of Ma Spiteful, and Mr. Dolittle, that he was one of maddest fellows that ever entered a pulpit ; while h was followed with the cold pity of Mr. Wisehe that he was sorry he was not more rational in his ligion, though he believed him to be a good-heart man, though so extravagantly wild. ‘ Were the whole life, and conversation of Mr. Love- good to be drawn out, at full length, so holy, and tive was he in all manner of conversation, that these little volumes, might soon be swollen into seu much too bulky for the public use: on this accou many pleasant, and profitable occurrences must omitted, while the copy of the hymn, mentioned above, shall conclude the dialogue. THE HYMN. “¢ Believers, the Temples of the Holy Ghost.” Cor. vi. 19, 20. 4S i aiele coal Pees. cies. Produc’d at first, by pow’r divine, Man as a creature stood, A sacred building in design, : A dwelling-place for God. 5 With finish’d art the pile was rear’d, ; Well fitted ek its ny ust symmetry throughout appear’d And glory fill’d the house, ’ a SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED. 263 God smil’d in friendly visits there, And thus his dwelling blest, While solemn acts of praise, and prayer, The creature’s love exprest. But sin defac’d its form, and broke The stately structure down ; His ruin’d temple God forsook, And left it with a frown. Polluted thus, and thus abhorr’d, The house in ruins lay, Until again by Christ restor’d, His glory to display. Laid deep in love this building stands, Cemented with his blood ; Work’d all with unpolluted hands, And fitted up for God. Here his transforming Spirit dwells, To beautify the place; With kindly influence sin expels, And sheds forth life and grace. Oh, dearest Lord ! return, reside, Within each sinful heart : Be thou our king, and none beside, And never more depart. As temples of the living God, Thus shall we prove thy grace. We'll sing aloud redeeming blood, And chaunt thine endless praise. DIALOGUE XXXVI.” MR. CONSIVERATE, MR.'TRAFFIC, FARMER LITTLEWORT. AND MR. LOVEGOOD. : [ip oi ii NO GOOD MARRIAGES; FROM BAD. ays. OME time after, Mr. Mehl de the exam ‘7 of marriage, in his union with Miss Worth which is said to have been so honorable in itself, an was so honorably conducted by them, that othe matches were thought of. Henry Littleworth ha the happiness to be united to Mr. Considere daughter, and Billy Traffic was determined to me himself happy with Miss Nancy Littleworth ; 2 about the same time, Miss: Patty Littleworth, married to Will Frolic, mentioned bis dialogue t sixth. Previous to thé final settlement of these stiarvia re it was thought necessary'that the old people shou meet tog wether, to arrange the family concerns of eae party. “As it would, on the one hand, be very wroi in me to divulge these family secrets, so, on the othe it would by no means prove an interesting subject the reader. Sutlice it to say, the meeting took ple at Mr. Considerate’s; Mr. Lovegood, for the sak of his wise advice, being one of the party; and in evening of the day, the conversation took the follo ing turn. - Far. Well, Mr. Considerate, I tells my son Harry, he is in high luck to have your daughter: the Le keep him humble ! : Consid. A difference of a few pounds, as itm ON IMPORTANT MARRIAGES, 265 spects money matters, is of very little consequence, either one way, or the other, where the best principle for happiness, is solidly established by the blessings of the grace of God upon the heart. Loveg. All our happiness between each other, in- dependent of the grace of God, rests upon very slippery ground. Even the common social, and rela- tive duties of life, which so plainly recommend themselves to every man’s judgment, and conscience, will be ill practised where this divine principle is wanting. Far. Aye, aye, so we found it in our house, till we found the grace of Godin our hearts. And if dear Harry makes as good a husband, as he has been duti- fal and loving to meas a son, since he has been blessed with this precious grace, I have no doubt, though he is but a farmer’s son, that they will be main happy with each other. Consid. Why Mr. Littleworth, your son has his share of good sense, and you gave him a good edu- cation, and God has given him the blessing of his piace, and my daughter is an excellent child; there- fore I have no doubt, if God preserve their lives, but that they will be a happy pair. _ Far. Ah! my poor daughter“Patty, she will never so happy with that wild young blade, Will Frolic, = she is quite bent upon having him !~-Poor girl! f cannot help it; if she will please her fancy, I fear she will plague her heart. _ Loveg. Why Mr. Littleworth, under these cir- sumstances, things must be permitted to take their ourse. When children are grown beyond our re- straint, opposition oftentimes answers no other end, |han to rivet them in their purposes. You can go no further than to act a parent’s part, and commit them to God. Far. Yes, yes, Sir, Ishan’t mind giving her a hild’s portion; I can afford it withont injuring the vest of my children, for the Lord has wonderfully lessed me of late ; bit Lam afraid that spark is more | VOL, If. aA } 2658 DIALOGUE XXXVI. fond of the money, than of my daughter, though a times, he appears desperate loving. He took it as hard gripe upon him, when I would have the mo settled upon my daughter, and her children, esp ally, when I did not think it necessary to bind u Billy Traffic in the same way, in his marriage wi my daughter Nancy? but why should I? for Billy i a very sober, regular, good young’ man; but as fo Will Frolick, if I had not bound him up pretty tight he would soon have made ducks and drakes, of al the money. La Consid. Your determination had almost been cause of breaking the match. ‘f Far. Why that was the upshot of the desi Harry, dear child, said, that would be the best way settle matters, though he was once so wicked hin self; but when his old miserly uncle, Mr. Sting the tallow-chandler, happened to be overtaken generous fit, he offered first to give him fifty po out and out, provided [ would give as much towar furnishing the house ; and then he said he would giy a bond to his nephew of two hundred _ pounds cr to be paid after his death, provided it was all secure to my daughter, and her children, and that bro on the match again; and though they now appear s¢ loving, I am sadly afraid they will soon live. like cat and dog. ie ' Loveg. I should not wonder at it; for there is m real foundation for love, but im the love of Go That foolish fondness, which some aoe discover towards each other, very frequently degenerates into complete disgust. Bi: ay Far. It is to admiration how I used to remark, wha' a different way of courting my Harry, and Bilh Traffic, had to Will Frolic. Whenever Billy came t my house to see Nancy, he would behave so decent and orderly, that it was quite a comfort to see the together. And whenever your daughter visited we always found she never would come with 4 Madam Considerate, or yourself; and what nice pro ON IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 267 fitable talk we alwayshad! But when that wild blade would come to see Patty, he would act as if he was half mad. Neither I nor Harry could keep him in any tolerable order ; and I never could get rid of him, till I called the servants in for family prayer, and then he would be off like a pistol.—Poor girl, f am desperately afraid that the match will be her ruination. Consid. { am sorry to hear that he is such a sad, wild fellow ; and I am told also, that he is very in- sulting in his conversation. Far. Why, he never could keep his tongue in any sort of order, when at my house; what an uproar he made one night, when he told my daughter Polly, that she would never be married,because she had lost two of her fore-teeth, and then she was all in a pas- sion,—She is full of envy, that ber young sisters Patty, and Nancy should be married before her. Consid. [smiling.] Perhaps ifthe loss had been on the tongue, instead of the teeth, it might have been a less calamity. _ Far. Ah, poor ‘Polly, even from her cradle, she was a sad crabbed child, and I think she is crosser than ever, since she has taken to spend so much of her time at Madam Toogood’s; and then she comes home as brim full of scandal, as ever she can hold ; but still she is my child.—The Lord make her his child ! : Consid. Well, I am glad Mr. Littleworth, my daughter's visits were so acceptable at your house. I can assure vou, Mr. Henry’s visits were not less so at ours. His conversation at all times, was much to the purpose ; and instead of being driven away on ac- count of prayer, he would often stop and be our family egg and much to the edification of us all. Far. Aye, aye, dear child, and he prays so hum- by, and so much from the heart I am sure it does my heart good to hear him. And then, as soon as ever he has done the business of the farm, away he goes after some of his good books : and directly he has saved alittle money, he is sure to go and buy some | i 268 DIALOGUE XXXVI. frosh ones : but he is extravagant in nothing else, dear child ! #5 Loveg. Really Mr Littleworth it appears to me, that the grace of God mends the head, while it con- verts the heart. It brings the mind into such a sober, aoly, regular frame, we can know nothing of the good of our own existence, till we exist in God. $e Far. Why, now it appears just so to me, as though I had been all my days without brains, while I was living without grace. But blessed be God, what nice winter evenings we now spend .at our house ; when Harry sits and reads, and talks to us out of some of his good books. And then he gets Billy Traffic, and some other young people, to come and see-him. At times we have quite a little congregation, and then we have such sweet singing and prayers! Butas for my part, I never could sing, bat I does my best to “make ajoyful noise unto the Lord.” A? Consid. You cannot think me to blame Mr. Little- worth, while I give my free consent, that my daughter should marry such an excellent young man. 3 Far. To be sure Sir, I cannot but be very thankful - for the merciful providence of God, that has contrived — such a charming match for my child. Little did IT , think, when he was a wicked wild sailor, that he would ever be married to a gentleman’s daughter, | who has been twice mayor of Mapleton !—The Lord keep him from pride ! + ae Consid. There is no great honor in being mayor of Mapleton Mr. Littleworth. tk ae Far. Why Mr. Strut, the present mayor don't think so: he fancies he has a right to act as though he was a little god. How he struts about our town, like a crow in a gutter! To my mind, he thinks himself as great a man as King George.—God hee him! Ae Loveg. TL hope Mr. Littleworth, your son has too) much good sense and grace, to be proud. Pride is no- thing better than the offspring of folly, and the dis- ease of fools: and pride turns all things into confa- ON IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 269 sion. When proud people meet together, they never ‘can be happy. Far. Why Harry, dear child ! makes us all happy ; and Nancy is a sweet, humble, diligent girl. And she is so notable, and attentive to her mother. M dame sees what it is that makes the best child. She begins to think of coming to Brookfield church, oftener than she used to do. I hope to the Lord she feels more in her heart, than she likes to. express, for she is ashamed to say much, as she cannot forget how she thwarted us, when we began to think about the sal- vation of our souls. But the Lord be praised! she ic wonderfully altered. Loveg. Indeed Sir, I think she is. Nothing can please her better, than the intended marriages of her sou, and daughter; while she is so much concerned « the union designed, between Will Frolic, and Miss Patty. But it seems that several bad matches have taken place in Mapleton, and its neighbourhood o” late : l-am surprised however, if in this world we ar to be surprised at any thing, that good tempered. humble, young woman, Rachael Meek, the linen- draper’s daughter, should have consented to marry that strange dogmatic young chap, Jack Positive, the lawyer. Consid. Ah Sir ! love is blind : 1 believe the un- happy young woman, heartily repents of it. If ever she presumes to give her advice, she is snapt at di- rectly.— He will say, “‘ Madam, when [ need your ad- vice, I will ask it—till then, I shall act as I like best.” Loveg. What must one of her humble, and tender mind feel, under such contemptuous, and crue: treatment. “Sh ~ Consid. Sir, he will do worse than all this. If the poor innocent creature asks a question, his answer will be, “ I shall do as I like best.” If le should venture upon any wrong, or wild pursuits, as obsti- nacy frequently misguides him, and she begins with ever so much weakness to expostulate, his answer will be, “ I shall not be guided by awoman.” ‘Then, 270 DIALOGUE XXXVI. lest she should further provoke him, she very wisely keeps silent, only now and then drops a tear. Far. Poor dear creature, she must have a dogs life of it. Consid. I dare say a much worse life than your d leads ; for whatever he commands must be leone be it ever so absurd ; and when he has burnt his fin- gers by his own folly, he will blame her that she did — not consult with him ; while he appears so little to respect her judgment, as not to allow her to go to market, to provide for the family, but under his = ders, and directions. Loveg. Better to be a beast of burden, than thal wife of such aman. If “ wives are to be in subjec- tion,” yet they are not doomed to be the abject slaves of such abominable tyrants. But it seems that —< father was always against the match. Far. Ah, fathers can’t, at all times, get their ‘chil dren to follow their advice: we are a stiff-necked ge- neration; but to my mind, that was another- strange match on the contrary side of the question, when my poor taylor, Simon Simple, married Fanny Pert, milliner ; for though he makes the breeches, yet a the folk say, she is determined to wear them. ia Traf. Why, he has been the taylor for our family” for some time ; and while he does not want for a share of good sense, yet being of a meek, and h less disposition, he has unfortunately, given the rod out of his own hands, aud then she flogs him for his folly. Once wher my son Billy went to their honse about a job, he told a whi o on his ab turn. Te Consid. What was it =. Traf. Why, the door being a little a-jar, he beard her cry, “ Simon! why Simon! what are you rae why don’t you come down directly? young ! Traffic is here ; I shan’t stand bawling after you day.” And when he gave her to understand that had overheard her coarse way of talk to her husband she blushed, and said, ‘ she did not mean to scold ON IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 271 him, and that it was only the tone of her voice that made him think so, and that they lived very happy together. Consid. Happy ! how can he be happy, while she is dinning his ears all the day with her impertinent, and noisy talk, and with her insulting reflections! I be- lieve that all his happiness consists in patiently suf- fering himself to be hen-pecked whensoever she pleases, without saying a word in his own behalf. _ Far. There is another match nearly of the same sort, whichis quite as bad. Youknowa Mr. Placid, that married Miss Fury. By all accounts, what a life she leads the poor gentleman! I am told, there is not a bigger termagant in the town. Consid. 1 know the unfortunate man very well. If ever he thwarts her, directly she is the downright tiger. She hears not a word of reason, but falls into aterrible passion, and then cries, out of mad re- venge. Traf. What can he do with such a creature? Consid. Why, he puts her in good humour again ‘as soon as he can; and in order to ‘keep alittle peace, he is obliged to submit to all her whims, and projects, and let her have her own way in every thing.—And all that won't do. _ Far. Why, to my mind, she must be worse than the devil; for there is an old proverb, ‘‘ The devil is good-natured, when he is pleased.” Consid. But it is a difficult matter to say when she is pleased; for if her husband dares not contradict her, yet she supposes herself at all times at liberty to ontradict him. It has oftentimes grieved me to hear, how rude, and snappish ‘she is to him upon every turn, and: yet she won't suffer any one else to scald him ‘but herself. Once, on an occasion of this sort, he said, ‘‘ My dear, I should not care if all the world scolded me, provided you did not scold me your- - mm _Traf. Til warrant she gave him a good sliatp cur- Bin lecture for that speech. 272 DIALOGUE XXXVI. Consid. No doubt of it. But this is not all of poor Mr. Placid’s misery She is such a horrid tormen of her servants, hunting, and driving them about like a mad woman : if there are any servants he likes, she is sure to dislike them, and to drive them out of the house as fast as she can. She says, if women won't keep up their authority, it is their own fault. , Loveg. It is a terrible evil when poor seryants ; to have their lives made a burthen to themselves, such tyrannic usage. It is to be lamented, that suc x masters, and mistresses were not made to serve al. > under the hard hand of oppression. There is only a deal of ungodly cruelty, but a considerable degree of cowardly meanness, exemplified by the conduct of these petty tyrants. But while some matches about these parts, have been terribly calami- tous, others of them have beenas singularly ridiculous. Traf. I suppose Sir, you allude to that strang match which took place the other day, between —— Sally Chatterbox, and old Mr. Taciturnity. Loveg. Oh, that was a strange business They say, the sedate old man is so grave, that he will not speak, till he has been spoken to, two or three “an | while her tongue is never at rest. Consid. It seems she is good-tempered, but greatest chatterer that ever lived; and runs on wi such eggregious stuff, (for people "who talk much, in quently talk nonsense) that she oftens puts the poor old man to the blush. Traf. 1 wonder how the good old gentleman iy answer half her questions. | Consid. I am told, she does not ask so many ques tions, but keeps on with a straight-forward rattle; and the few questions she asks, the old man evadesas: well as he can. He hums and haws; and now then cries, ‘‘ Yes my dear,” and then “ Nomy dear ;” ; and then again, “I can’t answer you, you speak fast.” Pind eked his patience is neatigexioal he will cry, “ My dear, you talk so fast, that it Lg makes my head ache.” ON IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 273 Loveg. What is supposed to be the difference be- tween their ages ? “Consid. W1 hy, Miss was about twenty-five, and the old gentleman about sixty-five ; and it seems, this young lady, is his third wife. He-isa very good sort of an old gentleman, and has a considerable deal of money, while the young lady has little or none, only she had, as it is called, a very polite education ata poarding-school; where 1 suppose, she was taught to talk at this extraordinary rate——But did you never hear what a sad mistake took place, when the old gentleman was on a journey, about a fortnight after their marriage, with his new wife, and his son by his first- wife, to pay a visit to some distant friends? Loveg. The story is quite new to me. Conid. Sir, report says, that when they came to the inn where they were to rest for the evening, the old gentleman and his son retired to sleep, somewhat sooner than the bride, she being engaged to write some letters to her friends, on this happy event. When she called for the chambermaid, she unhappily turned her into the chamber of the old gentleman’s son. The young man, finding that a young woman was be- ginning to undress by his bed side, and not imme- diately recollecting her, cried out against her as an impudent strumpet, and told her to get out of the toom, or he would kick her down stairs. Directly she made her escape, called for the chambermaid, told her what a mistake she had made, and asked where the other gentleman was gone to bed: the maid ans- wered, ““ Why ma’am, there is no other strange gentle- man gone to bed in this house, but your grand papa.’ Loveg. What blunders are produced by these im- prudent matches! But how came Mrs. Liberal to put up with Mr. Scraper, for her second husband? _ Traf. By all accounts, there is sad quarrelling be- tween them already. While she will always have her table covered with sufficient provision, that -@ plenty may be left in the pantry for occasional visitants, he ss ‘ 274 DIALOGUE XXXVI. will be hunting after bits, and scraps, supposing that almost any thing will do to mess up for a dinner, And as about food, so he is about raiment. He would appea like an old broken tradesman out of a work house, with his tattered clothes, and darned stockings, if his wife would let him ; and when she only gave away some of his old clothes the other day, that had got into this trim, to a poor old neighbour, this so offended him, that he would not speak to her for neai a fortnight. ; 4 Loveg. Does not he want her to dress as shabby ag himself ? 4 Consid. O Yes Sir, and he is always telling he where the cheapest old remnants are to be bought and that she leaves off her clothes too soon, when she might scour, and dye them, and then turn them, an thus wear them over, and over again. Loveg. This must make sad jarrings between them; what strange confusion is created in the world, by th contests which exist between the different corruptions of the human heart ! Consid. Yes, and when people are united, who are under the influence of the same sort of corruptions, the evil will be abundantly worse. What a terrible mis- fortune it was to Mr. Sharp, and Miss Trimmer, that ever they should make a match of it! Traf. Ah, that poor girl was ruined from her childhood. Her foolish mother humored her on every occasion ; and though her temper was naturally bad, yet her mother has made it ten thousand times worst by puffing up the pride of her heart, in telling her | she was a girl of fortune: and yet at first they ap. peared fond of each other, though such love scarcely deserves the name. Sat Consid. Whatever love might have been between them, ’tis all hatred now. While he tries to thwart, and contradict her upon every occasion, she flies at} him in return, like a fury, calling him fool, puppy and tells him he would have been a beggar if it had ON IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 275 not been for her fortune ; though his business, as a large vinegar merchant, is quite equal to the trifling sum he may have received with her. Far. But Pil warrant she pays him home again, and gives him tit for tat. I remember she came once to our house, to see my daughter Polly, so dressed up in her furbelows and fal-lals, and I thought her tongue run desperate glib. I have a notion she is asad saucy Se Consid. However, it seems that her husband can match her in language, and insolence. ‘“ Hold your tongue, you insolent jade. Madam, I will be mas- ter ;” and sometimes the house is all of an uproar be- tween them. Of late, it seems that she has been very jealous of him, and trims him well on that score. : Loveg. Oh, the terrible consequences of sin! What . a variety of little hells are created in hearts, and in families, and throughout all the world, by its horrid asa Lord, what is man! who can deny the fall? | Consid. True dear Sir, and I think there is ano- ther union in our town, which perfectly proves the ‘same awful truth. It evidently appears to me, that Ks is almost as necessary to prove, that a man is to die, as that he is a fallen creature. | Loveg. 'To what other matches do you refer? | Consid. Ob Sir! it was that unhappy union be- ‘tween Miss Jemima Meek, and Mr. Lofty, who is a reat man in his own esteem, because his great d-mother, was the daughter of some lord, who lived in the reign of Charles the Second; and on this account, though he is almost a beggar in his tireumstances, he can strut about with such conse- quence ! | Loveg. What silly thoughts can feed that carrion vird of pride, when roosted during the night time of (er ignorance, in the unregenerate heart of man! But vho is this Mr. Lefty? . | Consid. He is the gingerbread baker, that lives ia Pride Alley. —*Child, don’t expose yourself ;” or “ How should 276 DIALOGUE XXXVI. Loveg. Oh, that is the shop, I suppose, where M Considerate is so kind as to buy her find golden kin and queens, as presents to my little children. | Consid. Yes Sir, and while he is selling these fi golden things for a farthing a-piece, he is feedi upon the conceit of his ancient noble blood. Beside he fancies himself a man of reading, and great kno ledge.—He is one of Dr. Dronish’s hearers. ; Loveg. Well, this beggarly pride is the worst pride. But how does he treat the poor young wa man? " Consid. Why, in language like this. If she ask a question, he answers, ‘ Child, Pl tell you by an by.” If she humbly repeats it, “ Child, don’t be ” troublesome :” if she ventures to speak in company. you know, child?” If she proposes to do any thing his answer is, “ Child, I sha'l think of it.” If he wants her to do any thing, it is, ‘‘ Child do this,” or “Child, do that ;” in short, he scarcely treats he with the respect due to an upper servant. t Far. Old Betty Bustle, who has lived in oar house these five-and-twenty years, would run aw from us, if I and my dame were to talk to her as Master Lofty, the gingerbread-baker, talks to that poor creature.--- Well, the Lord be praised, that be has a little humbled my proud nature! but to my mind, I had once such noble blood in my heart, wh le I was living without God in the world, and while | was blustering with my big looks about the market. -: —— a But now for an abridgment of the subject. It wa much lamented, during the same evening’s conversa tion, that Mr. Lion should have been married to Miss Pigeon, who treated her with an abundance of austerity, though it caused some laughter, when the} conversed about the marriage uf Mr. Blunt to Miss Prudish ; while the plainness, and simplicity of the ON IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 277 one were contrasted with the unmeaning affectation of the other; though it was a much less laughable concern, when Mr. Smart, who was all vivacity and wit, married Mrs. Dorothy Dull; and no wonder that soon after their marriage, he treated her with sad neglect. A counterpart of the same sort of unhappy matches, took place, between Mr, Consequence, and Miss No- body, who never could find out her stupidity, till after he had married her, and then treated her with cruel contempt. After this, Mr. Lovegood had to improve the sub- ject. He very wisely remarked, that our infinitely merciful God, has so regulated the government of the human race, as that they should be helpmates to each other, that thereby, a bond of general union light be created for the good of the whole. That the poor, though in servitude, should find guardians and supporters in’ the rich, who have it in their power, to make even their situation a blessing to them, y their merciful, and kind deportment towards them. That parental authority was most mercifully insti- uted according to the laws of nature, so that the care needed by children, and the respect and honor due to parents, arising therefrom, might create a bond ofunion between families, through life. And that the foundation of this, originated in the marriage contract, hich civilized nations had universally adopted, and which, when broken, rendered mankind a set of bar- barians, and brutes. He next: observed, all duties of this sort were re- iprocal. Masters are to command with mercy ; hile servants are to submit and perform their office ith fidelity. Parents are to educate with the ten- ilerest affection; children are to obey with the purest implicity, and love. So as it respects the marriage nion.—Minds differ. It was certainly determined at the wife should submit and obey: she was “ the irst in transgression ;” but then the husband’s duty s not the less to “love, cherish, and respect her,’ VOL, IT. BB | ; 278 DIALOGUE XXXVI. as ‘ the weaker vessel.” And while the divine mind has determined that she should be ‘in subjection, yet such husbands as are blessed with the mind of Christ, will remember that they are directed to “ love their wives, as Christ also loved the Church, and gave him- self for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it by the washing of water, by the word. For thatno man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth it, and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church.” This excellent moralist, next asked the question, on evangelical principles : Will such Christians, a as tyrannic lords over their wives, because it is said “the man was not created for the woman, but the woman for the man;”’ that ‘ the man is the ima and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of the man ¢” I once knew a pretended boaster of religion, wha was ever quoting against his poor wife, that “the hus- band was the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church,” and that ‘‘as the Church is sub- ject unto Christ, so wives are to be subject to their own husbands in all things :” and oh, how he wd to bore the poor woman on these words, “ in all things!” But let all these jarrmg-strings, béreduced | into holy harmony and order, and let the wife learn, as the scripture has directed her, “ to reverence her husband ; and let her distinguished ornament be that eet a meek, and quite spirit, which in the sight of God, is of great price ;’ and each of : them will find in that happy union, their paradise regained. Mr. Lovegood, at the same time, gave it as his opinion, that nothing is more beneficial to the good of society, than that young persons, blessed with the fear of God, should thus unite themselves to each other on an early day. ‘That it was the duty of pa- rents, not wantonly to thwart, though to regulate, the inclinations of their children, and that also in the mildest manner, as circumstances might require. But that, from the instances which had been before them in conversation, a similarity of disposition abovs all UN IMPROPER MARRIAGES. 279 things, should be first sought for, yet not with rigid exactness. A good man may be over-generous: can | he do better for himself than to seek for a partner, who is frugal and attentive, without being covetous and mean? Should another be hasty and rapid, what ean he do better than to unite himself to one who is dispassionate and calm? And if the young woman bas an unhappy tendency to that, which may he frivolous and indiscreet, who knows but that she may be much corrected, should she meet with the man, who may be cautious and reserved! In short, that it is not so much the dispositions themselves, as their evil tendency, through the corruption of mankind, against which we should be put upon our guard; as it was evidently uot the disposition itself, but that dis- | position, being under a corrupted influence, which _was the cause of every calamity, that had been the ' subject of their present conversation. __ Mr. Lovegood also mentioned, that a little equality, as it respected money matters, might not be an im- _ proper consideration, as this too often creates the ‘most unpleasant reflections, and disputes. And last of all, as being ultimately of the least consequence ‘respecting age, he observed, though many imconve- -niencies from that quarter, arise from such inconside- ‘rate unions, yet that it was beyond a doubt, a variety ‘of old, and young fools, at least somewhat like it, good-natured creatures, have lived very happy with each other. Mr. Lovegood, lastly urged, some very impressive ideas respecting the sad perturbation of mind, created _among all those of every rank, whose tempers were | completely contrary to the holy mind of Christ. That | even’ heaven itself would bear a semblance of hell, | could such minds surround the holy throne above : | perfect holiness, and infinite happiness, are insepara- | bly united. ' Thus Mr. Lovegood went on well in moralizing. | So also my young readers would determine, had I time | further to transcribe his wise, and good advice ; and t i 4 280 ° DIALOGUE XXXVI. for their sakes, thus much is presented before them on this most important subject. There is something very engaging in the undisguised simplicity of un- polluted vouth. Oh, that my dear young friends had the advice of a Lovegvood always sounding in their ears , and the like grace, which is the delightful theme of his preaching, constantly dwelling in their hearts! Such will not only be graciously protected from the evils of life, but as mercifully directed into every path that is wise, and good. And under such regulations, how happy shall I be without fee or re- ward, so far as I can gain the permission of the Dolittles of the day, (while a denial from the Love- goods is scarcely to be apprehended,) to tie the bond ‘of union that makes the parties so happy in each other. DIALOGUE XXXVI. ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. | ' | mae } | DETWEEN MR. LOVEGOOD, MR. MERRYMAN, MR. SAYO RY, HIS COUSIN JOHN, AND MR. MALAPERT. ME. Lovegood receives the following letter from Mr. Merryman. | My DEAR sir, As you allow me to consult you without re- serve, and under every difficulty: 1 must inform you of some recent events, which have filled me with the most serious apprehensions ; lest the peace and pros- verity which has hitherto so happily prevailed, should de interrupted by the vain janghngs of some, who are attempting to make their inroads among us. _ 1 am quite surprised, that no body “of respectable lissenters, have found their way into the Town, while nost of the inhabitants are in gross ignorance, except- ng some Baptists, and a very few Quakers, ‘of whom t seems there are but -three families in the town. These collect together every Sunday morning, in a arge room, contiguous to the house of one of them; vat as they seldom have any public speaking among hem, very little is known concerning them; though ; fear, they are but ill acquainted with the doctrine of he atonement, and reconciliation with God, through he sacrifice of Christ ; ; yet I find them very kind, and ocent neighbours, and am happy to treat them in ‘turn, with all the civility and atiention in my power | 1 ~E2 DIALOGUE XXXVII. On our evening lecture, some of them frequently steal into the Church, and affectionately acknowledge that they receive good from what they hear. I wish I could speak as favorably of the Baptists; for I fear the one depend too much on their sanctifi- cation, for their justification ; not a few of the others seem to deny the need of personal sanc fication alto- gether ; though I am happy to find some favorable exceptions to the general remark. You know the character of their cldgmnannetor: He has been ringing changes, these forty years, upon eter- nal justification, and what he calls imputed sanctijfica- tion, and the perseverance of the saints; which seems little better, than a sort of inconsistent per severance in laziness, and security; after they have persuaded themselves to rest in a self-conceited con- fidence, that they are right, without any evidence the fact: while the practical, and preceptive parts ¢ the scriptures are treated by them with strange . lect. It seems this old man has lately heard of som new seceders from the Church, with whom he is bighl delighted, because they have adopted his sentiment about baptism, and have been rebaptised by imm sion. One of these he has, unhappily for me, in tro- duced into his pulpit, and curiosity has invited nay to hear what this new light has tu advance; and al I am sorry to say, that there are some, who are fasci nated with something, they know not what; while many artful innuendoes are introduced, that they now hear the gospel fully, which they never heard before ; intermixed at the same time, with such horrid insi- nuations, which are in my opinion, most intolera profane ; that “the greatest sins we can commit, ¢a never alter our state, as it respects the covenant 6 grace ;” and that “ God can never be angry with his elect, even when they commit the worst of crimes.’ Are we then to suppose that we are in the covenan of grace, without the grace of the covenant? andh oN can people in such a gracious state, be,guilty of th ANTINOMIANISM UNMASESv. 283 worst of crimes? and can they imagine the holy God, can so alter his nature, as to see sin, and not hate it if he finds it, even in an Angel? Surely if he par- dons the criminal, he hates the crime; and can such pardoned sinners dare to “‘ continue in sin, that grace may abound?” must not every real Christian hate the thought? [I trust the first moment I was convinced of sin, I began to dread the commission of it, worse than hell itself; what then can be the use of such strange, unwarrantable expressions, but to make loose minded people, looser still, and to cause the enemies of God to blaspheme the doctrine of our free forgiveness, through Jesus Christ. _ Notwithstanding their doctrine is so disgusting, as weil, as dangerous, the bewitchery has actually suc- ceeded upon the minds of some; one positive old woman, whose tempers at all times are the most _ inconsistent, and unsubdued ; goes prating about the town, “crying in the wretched cant of the party :” that | she has found out, why she could never get any com- | fort to her soul, under my preaching, because [I in- | sisted upon it, that ‘‘ God’s elect should be made more | holy than he himself ever designed they should be,” _ “and that as God has strengthened her faith, she shall | never fear about her sins, and corruptions as she has | done, that she is now sure she believes, aud therefore | she is safe, and nobody shall shake her confidence | any more. all her days ;” while her husband says of her, that she is such an arrant termigant, that she | ought to be ducked every day of her life for scolding. | Lam happy however to find, that two, or three of the |most judicious and correct of the Baptists, begin to | recoil at what they have lately heard, and are aware |of the danger that arises from preaching the mere skeleton truths of the gospel, without their practical . | effects, and consequences on the heart ; so thatifa few of my congregation seem to be fascinated by these vain disputants, others haveleftthem and have forgotten the prejudices of their education, and mean to attend )tbe Church till they can hear sounder truths at the | 284 DIALOGUE XXXVII. meeting, where they have been accustomed to wor- ship. And although I have cause to thank God that there is not much to be dreaded from these* schis- matical efforts, yet still the plague is im a measure begun. And as you well know how to controvert those different heresies that haye been brought for- ward against the plain, simple truths of the gospel, I most fervently intreat you to come overand help us, and give us some sermons on these most important topics, No one can be more respected, and revered among the people of this Town than yourself. Mr. Savory, and some others that have lately left the Baptist con- gregation, are quite as anxious to see you as myself, 1 am sure your fervent zeal against such most dan~ gerous errors, will not allow you to put a negative on this my earnest request. ‘ Your most affectionate son in the Gospel, — H. MERRYMAN, Mr. Lovegood’s answer to this letter, was replete with all that’ good sense ; containing at the sa time such wise, and pious remarks, as might naturally have been expected from him, and though I am satis- fied the good taste, and piety of my readers would be greatly gratified, were they to be presented with the whole of its contents : yet those parts which ; immediately relate to the present point, shall alone be transcribed. . ie % Mr. Lovegoed observed, that whatever appearance af novelty might seems to attach itself to these new lights, it was nothing more than a revival of the same bad spirit, which in a measure prevailed in the earliest ages of the primitive Church. Thatthe apostle Paal foresaw the evil, and forewarned the elders of Ephe- ~ sus of it, in this strong language. ‘“‘ For I know that “<| after my departing, shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock,” and that these their outward enemies, would not be their worst enemies ; for that “also among their own seve * Sce note at the end of the Dialogue. : ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 285 should certain men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them.” That this is awfully and notoriously the case with the present set. That they regard not into what Christian societies they enter ; nor yet lament, or even make it a matter of consideration, how far they may break the peace, and harmony that subsist among them, by the intro- duction of their unjust insinuations, and dogmatic assertions, if thereby, they may out of other Churches, make a little party for themselves ; while like Ish- mael of old, their hands are against every man, while eyery man’s hand in self-defence, must be against them in return. He further observed what St. Jude mentioned, con- cerning some of the same spirit, that though some may go further in these abominable ways than others, yet the core of the evil is still the same in all; and among all parties, who “separate themselves, not having the Spirit,” and that it is peculiarly applicable to the present set; since as far as he could learn, all of them were of one mind, respecting the operations of*the Spirit; and that whatever some such as these might have to say, respecting the correctness of their own outward conduct and moral deportment, yet the ees inattention to what St. Jude further said, * Building, up yourselves on your most holy faith ; raying in the Holy Ghost; and keeping yourselves mm the love of God;” would prove a most criminal neglect : and that any disregard to such practical pas- sages as these, especially where progressive sanctifi- aon: or a growth in grace, like the carrying on of a building &c. were to be met with, could not but orove of the most dangerous consequences to the souls of men. | He next observed, that such spirits, while they can- not “please God, because they are contrary to all nen,” have in general, in them, such a share of posi- hate and self-conceit, that it were hardly possible to o them any good; and that therefore the Apostle’s idyice was the wisest, to “ mark such as caused divi- 286 DIALOGUE XXXVII. sions, and offences, contrary to the doctrine they ha received, and to avoid them;” notwithstanding suc may attempt, even with “‘ good words, and fair speeeh es, to deceive the hearts of the simple.” ; He further illustrated, how strongly the Aveal noticed the danger of such a spirit, from the advie he gave to Timothy, where after having given the sam directions to him, as are to be found in all his othe epistles ; to attend to social and relative duties, : thus remarks, ‘‘ If any man teach otherwise, and con sent not to wholesome words, even the words of ou Lord Jesus Christ, and the doctrine which is accordi; to godliness, he is proud, knowing nothing, but oa ing about questions, and strifes of words, whe cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings, perversi disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute o the truth, supposing that gain is godliness ;’* am no wonder that he should further say, “ from sue withdraw thyself.” a After a few observations further on this head, he nex exhorted his beloved son in the gospel; by no mean: to fear a full, and explicit avowal of these most glori ous truths whereby the free justification and acceptane of the ruined sinner, are at once secured, through th imputed righteousness, and finished. salvation of oul Redeemer, without any previous terms, conditions qualifications, or prerequisites to be performed by us and especially as from these principles, he might bes maintain the creed of our personal sanctification which must be effectually accomplished in all thos who believe whereby alone the omnipotent agency 0 that divine Spirit, is restored to us, so as to make y “dead unto sin, but alive unto God through Jes Christ!” He lastly gave a promise, that within fortnight, he should come over to Sandover, in orde * Though the latter charge is by no means equally im against all, yet many ef that stamp, in modern times, may b mentioned, and was most remarkably exemplified in a certal coal-heaver, who during his life time, could ride about t country inacoach and four, with two out riders to attend hi ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 287 to assist in correcting that profane disputatioas spirit, which some of corrupted minds, were striving to introduce. Immediately as Mr. Merryman knew the grace of God in truth, he established a week-day evening lectnre. Mr. Lovegood naturally chose to be with him at that time, that he might avail himself of that opportunity, to deliver his sentiments on this impor- tant subject. Men that have itching ears, though they cannot endure sound doctrine, yet cannot alto- gether keep away from hearing it. For it seems that most of the little party were then present, when Mr. Lovegood preached an admirable sermon on this text, * Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you, will perform it until the day of Christ Jesus.” Phil. i. 6. Most forcibly did he shew, that all the good work which. is to be accomplished in us, is in consequence of that great work of redemption, which Christ has already accom- lished for us, that we do not entitle ourselves to justification, or add to it, by what we are, or what we do; but that we are entitled to sanctification, through hat Christ is for us ; and that the plain, and evident neaning of the text is, that the sanctification of the plect, is a progressive work, and that it manifested ‘the true unadulterated meaning, of the perseverance of the saints, by such saints being enabled to perse- yere in the ways of holiness unto the end, for that *he that persevereth to the end, shall be saved” not for the sake of this perseverance, but because they do versevere, as an evidence that their hearts are right vith God. That he should be ashamed to suppose, juch a self-evident proposition, could need what is stalled proof, yet as some had gone so far, as to deny 1 growth in sanctvfication, or rather to deny the need Mf it aitogether ; he asked, how it could be possible 0 deny the need of a growth, when we were accord- ‘ to John, to grow from being little children, to be n mung men; and afterwards, fathers in God? or rther as Peter expresses himself, “as new borp | } . 288 DIALOGUE XXXVII. babes desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby,” or when the growth of a christian, is compared to the growth of vegitation, like corn, first in the blade, then the ear, and then the full corp in the ear, and again, that we should grow as the lil and the vine, and as calves in the stall; and if a might attempt to evade the force of such expressions, supposing that they may refer to the growth of ite Kingdom of Christ at large, like the growth of the grain of mustard seed, the absurdity of this is refut by asking the question ; how is it possible for a forest to grow, if each tree of the forest does not also gro while all this is further evidenced when every in vidual believer, is directed to grow in every individ grace. That our Lord once reproved his discip on this subject, ‘“ O ye of little faith, wherefore ye doubt ;” and if they had not felt the justice of the reproof, they had not prayed, “ Lord increase our faith.” So likewise, the Apostle mentions the faith of the Thessalonians, which at first might have been similar to that of others, yet now says he, “ your faith grow- eth exceedingly.” Just so also, respecting the grace of love, the same Apostle prays; “the Lord make you to increase in love,” and further, “ and this T pray, that your love may abound yet more and more; and for this purpose, ‘ that ye may be filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Chris' unto the praise and glory of God.” Then agait respecting hope, “‘ that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Hely Ghost.” Nor are these thing mentioned respecting these three leading graces of faith, hope, and love, as belonging to the christian} character only; but that the whole assemblage of them, should be divinely enlarged, for that ‘‘ God is able to make all grace. abound in us,” that “ these things may be in us, and,abound:” that as there wen some who brought forth thirty fold, there were others that brought forth sixty, and others a hundred fold, and that the same was to be understood, when our Lord said, herein is my father glorified, that ye bear much ANTINCMIANISM UNMASKED. 289 fruit. That the same idea of abounding, increasmg and growing in sanctification, and personal holiness, was evidently held forth, when weare directed to “grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ ;” yea, that we should grow up into him in all things. And that as the Church at large, ‘* groweth into a holy temple in the Lord,” so also all spiritual believers, “as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood ;” and such was the happy tate of those, when ‘‘ grace abounded,” and when * great grace was upon them” all. And that it was very horrid to damp the expectations of the children of God, in their hopes of that good, which was so copiously promised to the elect of God, before whom alone, “ the path of the just was placed,” which was to shine more and more, unto the perfect day.” _ Here Mr. Lovegood became, contrary to his usual swavity, exceedingly warm, acknowledging that while avery page in the sacred volume, refuted the de- estable heresy, he had dwelt too long in exposing a Jaring attack, upon a self-evident proposition, blas- dhemously contradicting that most solemn command, ‘be ye holy, for I am holy.” _ After this excellent sermon, young Mr. Malapert who was just articled to a Lawyer, and was once a oa admirer of Mr. Merryman, bat lately perverted »y these new seseders, went out of the Church in a ter- a rage; and immediately wrote to Mr. Merryman, laming him that he should allow such a doctrine, as wogressive sanctification, to be preached in his pul- nit; and that he was ready to vindicate the doctrine Mf imputed sanctification, before all its opponents, igainst such legal mixtures as Mr. Lovegood had \dvanced. Mr. Merryman well knew, that though Mr. Malapert was a good hand at prating, and at prating only ; yet he did not refuse the challenge, t it should be misconstrued into a sort of victory ; md though he might very safely have entered into he contest single handed, with such a yain, self con- | VOL, II. Ic | / 290 DIALOGUE XXXVII. ceited antagonist ; he was not sorry that Mr. Loveg was at hand, to speak for himself, ‘The young man accordingly came the next mor ing, where at the same time, he happened to mee very good old man, Mr. Savory and his cousin John, who had been driven from the Baptist ¢ gregation, by the dangerous, and crude doctrin that had lately been more especially retailed among them.—The Dialogue thus commenced. —=a Malapert. Well gentleman, I hope you are well. You must think me a bold young fellow, te _ attack two such great divines at one stroke. Bu little David was not afraid, even of a great Goliath, because he knew that he had God on his side. I hay been living on milk for babes long enough, and I be- gin to want some strong meat ; and now the La has sent it tous. I have lately had a. new light int some passages of scripture, which I never understooe before. [To Mr. Lovegood.] And when you sif, understand the gospel better, you will not give us sue long harangues on the need of personal sanctification, or a growth in grace, as we had from you last nig but all this, must be expected, from such as deny imputed sanctification; aad you knew what the Apostle says on that subject, that ‘* Christ is made unto us sanctification.” Loveg. If we poor babes, may speak for ourselye some thmgs may be made ours by imputation, ot things can 1 alone be made ours by impartation. It she be most fully admitted, that our criminality was over to him who ‘suffered the just for the unjust;” that the whole of his obedience, and sufferings un death, are made over to us, for our justification um life, but can I impute my wisdom, to: make i aise; as I can impute my money, te pay anoth debts ; ; is it possible to make knaves honest, by ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 29] | puted honesty ; drunkards sober, by imputed sobriety ; and whoremongers chaste, by imputed chastity: I am | quite at a loss what'you can mean, but as you further explain yourself. | Mer. Do you think then that Mr. Lovegood meant ast night, that when we are directed to grow like “yegetation, or children, that it is to be an imputed growth, or when we are commanded to increase in every Christian grace, and to abound more, and more ‘im all these good things ; that your sort of imputation will accomplish it, while the impartation is with- held? _ Mal. I must confess that Mr. Lovegood puzzled me for a while; but I soon recovered myself, after I fad entered ‘a little:more deeply into the doctrine of eternal justification. | Loveg. 1 thought 1 should find you thereabouts, Pray Sir, were you bern from all eternity ? ) Mal. Why Sir, “known unto God, areall his works, from the foundation of the world.” Loveg. 1 am willing to go with you further still upon that point ; the infinite foreknowledge of God, existed before all worlds were made; it is from eter- ‘nity, toeternty. But what of that Sir? ) Mal. Why Sir, upon that it is, 1 ground the doc- 'trine of eternal justification ; that the elect were ac- ‘tually justified from all eternity. Loveg.. Surely Sir, you only mean, that it was the ‘design of God from all eternity, that they should be astified. _ Mal. O no Sir ! that they actually were justified. | Mer. Am T then to understand, that when you called me in the other day, to witness the signing your indentures, that you were articled to an attorney, from all eternity. Loveg. Again Sir, have you been committing a deal of sin from all eternity ? ons | Mal. How could I do that before I was born? Loveg. So I think Sir. God does nothing, if he dardons nothing, when he has nothing to pardon. . 292 DIALOGUE XXXVII. Pray can the king pardon a criminal, before he isa criminal? or did he reign from all eternity ? because there was a time fixed in the purpose of God, when he should reign. j ; Savory. Aye, and I heard quite as much as this, at our meeting before I left it. J cannot tell what possessed our old man to ask the foolish questio whether “ an elect soul would be damned, if he shoul die before it was given him to believe?” 5 Loveg. What, then are we to suppose that God can violate his own designs, to suffer any such to die in unbelief, and thus to save them contrary to his own solemn declaration, ‘‘ he that believeth not shall be damned.” I should rather have concluded that oe were immertal, until their conversion, and salvati from sir took place. But how did he settle this knotty point? , Sav. Why, he began in his accustomed style, and said, ‘‘ Let me speak freely to you. The Lord hath no more to lay to the charge of an elect person, yet in * the height of iniquity, and excess of riot, and commit ting all the abominations that can be committed; 1 say even then, when an elect person, runs such a course, the Lerd hath no more to lay to that orl charge, than God hath to lay to the charge of a be- liever ; nay, God hath no more to lay to the charge of such a person, than he hath to lay to the charge of a saint triumphant in glory.” - Mer. What are these your sentiments now Mr, Malapert, after having attended upon my ministry, above these four years ? Mai. To be sure they are, if I believe in eternal justification ; ‘ for being the elect of God, they are the heirs of God; and as they are heirs, so the first being of them, puts them into the right of inheritance; and there is no time, but such a persen is a child of God.” Mer. Even all the time he is manifesting himself to be a child of the Devil. What then can the Apostle mean concerning himself, and the conyerted 3 ay | : ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 293 s Biphiosinns, who were “ predestinated to the adoption ot children by Jesus Christ?” was he mistaken in )this p pomt, when he says, they were “ail by nature, ‘children of wrath, even as others ;” that “we were enemies to God by wicked works ; * and that while in that state, they were “not his people, and not be- ‘loved 2” | Loveg. Yes, and how contrary all this is, to the express declaration of the word of God. “He \that believeth not is condemned already ;” yea, that the wrath of God abideth on him;” while the same Apostle, pronounces a solemn anathema against all, / who love not the Lord Jesus,” one would think that uch people meant to fly in the face of that most direct declaration, <‘ Know ye not, that the untighteous shall mot inherit the kingdom of God: be not deceived, meither fornicators, nor idolators, nor adulterers, nor ‘effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, ‘nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revel- ers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God;” and you don’t suppose, that your old preacher would register these among the non-elect, when it is er added, “and such were some of you; but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified, the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the spirit of eLord :” does it not therefore evidently appear, that such people, while they were in such a bad state, could not have entered the kingdom of God, till after they had been put intoa good ¢ one; is it possible, for the Lord to say any thing to the wicked, but “ Depart ye cursed 2” | Mal. But God foresaw that they would be put into a good one. | Loveg. Who doubts of that? but what has that ts do with the horrid supposition, that men may live and ie in all sorts of sin, and still be saved? =: But Sir, if you properly understood the doc- ne of imputation, as we do, you would still fmd rself in the wrong: though your arguments may be y+. 294 DIALOGUE XXXVII. be a little more specious than I can at present 7: tradict. Loveg. We are very willing to hear you further on your doctrine of imputation. Mal. A great Doctor in our way, observes, “ Must not a man be reckoned to be a sinner while he does sin? I answer No, though he doth sin, yet he is not to be reckoned a sinner; but his sins are reckoned to be taken away from him ;” and again, “ If thou hast a part in the Lord Christ, (as all the unbelievi elect have even while acting like so many devils) all these transgressions of thine, are become act the transgressions of Christ, and so cease to be thine; and thou ceasest to be a transgressor ; from that time, they were laid upon Christ, to the last hour of life ; so that now thon art not an idolater, a thief, or any thing else that is bad, thou art not a sinful pele son, whatever sin thou committest.” Mer. This is strong meat with a vengeance, Whoever can swallow tnis, may swallow any thing. Sav. I suppose you had all this from the yo man that preached at our meeting, since [ left it. Mal. Yes, and an excellent Christ-exalting serman it was. Sav. You went to hear it cousin John, when I ne fused to go with you, because I did not chuse to << bad example. John. He said nearly the same things: I suppose they wereall taken outof the same author. “It is the iniquity itself, not our punishment, but our sin, that the Lord hath laid upon Christ; I mean it is the fault of the transgression itself. (it almost made hair stand on end, “when he went on saying,) “To pi | more plainly : hast thou been-an idolater? hast thou been a blasphemer? hast thou been a murderer, an adulterer, a thief, a liar, or a drunkard? if thou hast part in the Lord, all these transgressions of thine, be- came actually the transgressions of Christ. Nor are we so completely sinful, but Christ being made sin, ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 295 was as completely sinful as we.” And after he kad said a few things, that we should not encourage our- ‘selves in such sort of crimes on that account, he added, “The loathsomeness, abominableness, and hatefulness of rebellion, were also charged on Christ, ‘as well as the guilt: yea, that God made Christ as yerily a sinner, as the creature himself was. _ Loveg. [To Malapert.] Sir, do you call all this ex- alting Christ ? Could you say worse of the Devil him- ‘self? than to epee he is actually guilty, and an actual partaker of the most horrid ard foul crimes, jthat human nature can commit! By this way of talking, you make it out, that he positively deserved the punishment he met with. But if he was actually lie blasphemer, the murderer, and the every thing that is bad; how could he be the substitute, or the ‘surety for the sins of others? Mer. Yes, and then what becomes of these pas- sages which tell us, he was “the Lamb witheut ble- ‘mish ?” and how could he “offer himself without \spot, to God?” or how could he be # holy, harmless, and separate from sinners?” if all the sins of his ‘people, were made his own, as though actually com- mitted by him? how could he “ suffer the just for the junjust” when he himself was unjust? how could he “bear the sins of many,” when he had all his own sins to bear? or how could he in any wise suffer for ‘others, when he had to suffer for crimes, tne worst of ‘a@imes, which were actually made his? what can be ‘plainer, than that “for the transgressions of his \people, was he smitten ;” and that all our sins, not \his own sins, were laid upon him, by a transfer of our ‘guilt on his innocent person, “who knew no sin;” who ‘was neither guilty, nor filthy, but at all times, moat ‘mnocent and pure. / Loveg. Yes, and from the same profane supposi- ‘tion, some of them liave advanced that, which ap- ee to me, still more profane; that at that time, God “ hated, and abhorred Christ, as the greatest sinner upon earth ;” to say nothing of the absurdity | 296 DIALGGUE XXXVIL ‘of the unchangeable God, thus loving at one time and hating at another, the same adored person; yet how could such a hatred ever have existed, when God hiniself declares, ‘“ this is my beloved Son, in whom Tam well pleased ;” and that he was the holy one, “in whom his soul delighted.” If he could thus be inade the subject of his Father's wrath, how could he in the hour of his extremest sufferings, still addr him as his Father? ‘“ Father, if it be possible, iet this cup pass from me ;” and even while on the cross, he claimed the Lord as his God ; ‘‘ My God, my why hast thou forsaken me?” and in his last expiring rroments, he could confidentially say, “Father, into hands E commit my spirit:” realiy it appears to me, that such whimsical interpretations of scripture, were not worthy of a refutation, were they not exceedingly profane. ' J John. Yes, and at the conclusien of the same young man’s sermon, I remember be said, that “a ‘oad could not be more edious in the sigkt of e than Christ. thenswas,” for that all the hatefulness, loathsomeness in our nature, being put upan Chris he stands as it were, the abhorred of the Father.” Mer. And are these the profane and horrid dis cussions, that have lately occupied your mind? Mal. Sir, 1 sha’nt give up the point yet, though I confess I am not so ready at an answer as I thought I should have been, but how could I expect it, while I have so many upon me at the same time? [He feels in his pocket ;] I find have left my er a book behind me, in which I have a great number short hand notes on this subject: Ili assure you T have studied the point very closely, and I hope be a preacher soon. There is very little Gospel preaching about these parts. With your leave Mr Merryman, I'll step home for my pocket-book. I shall return again in a few minutes, and I'll warrant, I shall beable to stand my ground. , At once he was off, like a pea out of a pop-gun. Mr. Lovegood had his doubts, what good end could a. ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 297 be answered, by continuing the controversy with such an antagonist ; but Mr. Merryman feared, that an impertinent triumph might be the result, if a further hearing should not take place. They all thought it most prudent, to wait for his return, the result of which will be found in the following dialogue. * Note to page 284. Mr. Merryman is perfectly correct in his application of the words heresy and schism, Aupesis from Avpew, or from Age to take up, to remove or to take away ; describes a sort of smr- ritual sheep-stealers : soschism from Zx:exa a rent, a division, or separation. The evil isnot in any persons following their own judgment, i-, what they think preferable; but among those who posses; an angry, contentious spirit, so contrary t that spirit of candour-and forbearance, that Christians should manitest towards each other. es : DIALOGUE XXXVIII. ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. EETWEEN MR. LOVEGOOD, MR. MERRYMAN, MR. SA RY, MR. JOHN HIS COUSIN, Ane MR. MALAPERT, [ MMEDIATELY on Mr. Malaperts return, dialogue thus recommenced. Malapert. Well gentlemen, I have not been lor gone. I hope I shan't tire, your patience in resuming: my subject, asf ama pretty good dad at short-hand writing. Ithink f£ have brought sufficient material so that [ may be able to stand my ground better thi Ihave done ; (he takes out his notes.) And now ge tlemen, you shall hear what I have further to advance” on the doctrine of imputation,* or rather, an actual exchange of persons, between Christ and his elect. Loveg. Sir, I hope you dont mean to detain us long about these doctrines, in which we all most z suredly believe and agree. Do you think we deny the mediatorial righteousness of Christ, habitual, (2 as far as that, we will admit imputed sanctification,) active, and passive, to be a righteousness sufficient to, and designed for, the salvation of the elect. € whether our justification, and all other blessings, * Most of these quotations are from Dr. Crisp, (in high estimation among a certain party.) ‘These sermons were re published by the late Dr. Gill, who has thereby done infinite’ mischief to some of the less pious of his own denomination, while a deal of pains is taken, to explain away some of th most dangerous points, contained in those sermons; yet it is impossible so to neutralize them, as to render them palata er safe. ‘The reader will discover this as the dialogue proce ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 299 when we are made partakers of them, are the fruits of this righteousness, and the only meritorious cause of them. Or whether Christ’s obedience and suiferings were so in our stead, that God cannot exact from us, any other atonement for sin, or meriting price. Mer. And I wiiladd, whether Christ by his righteous- ness, procured a finished salvation for all his chosen people, so that they assuredly shall in his own time and way, be saved by his grace, and made meet for his glory ; and all, that, upon the credit of that very righteousness, which is imputed to true believers, by which all the blessings of. the covenant of grace, are secured to the children of God. _ Mal. Upon my word gentlemen, you ins me respects eome nearer to the gospel than l expected, but as yet, you fall short of the real point. I believe, (taking out his notes,) there is actually an exchange of per- sons, between Christ and the believer, “ Mark it well, Christ is not so completely righteous, but we are as righteous as he ; uor are we so completely sinful, but Christ became, being made sin, as com- pletely sinful as we, nay more ; we are the same tighteousness, for we are made the righteousness, of God.” ‘That very sinfulness that we were, Christ s made that very sinfulness before God; so that Christ takes our persons, and conditions, and stands ‘m our stead : we take Christ’s person, and condition, nd stand in his stead ; so that if we reckon well, we ust always reckon Christ to be in our persons, and our person in his.” Loveg. And this Sir, I suppose, you will say is our way of exalting Christ, by most profanely putting che Savior in the sinners’ stead. Supposing a prince with all his honors, puts himself in a beggar’s state, with al! his rags and sores ; would not the prince be nost grievously debased, and the beggar exalted; or upposing a Judge should put himself in a crimi- ial’s state, why then the criminal is innocent, and the udge is guilty, and ought to be hanged im the crimi- al’s stead ; for that the Judge, actually committed the 800 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. erime, and not the criminal ; we may suffer penalties, and pay debts for others, but we cannot, actually com. mit crimes, for others. ‘ And further, this doctrine actually dispossesses Christ of all his offices, and turns the creature, into the creator: for if Christ be- comes the sinner, he actually looses his office, and is no longer the Redeemer, but the sinner that needs to be redeemed, instead of being a most exalted sa- vior, he becomes a most debased, wretched, Hell deserving sinner; instead of being the exalted, a give repentance, and remission of sins, he needs hi self pardon, and forgiveness, as much as the vilest sinner upon the earth. Is it not enough that he should impute his glorious righteousness, witho taking our filth and guilt, on his holy person, who) never could know sin? was it not enough that should bear the punishment of our sins, without bei actually himself a sinner, and thus rendering hi worthy of all the punishment he sustained ? v Mer. Or perhaps by this change of person, the sinner becomes his own savior, pardons his own sins, and merits eternal glory for himself. % Mal. Well I shan’t adopt this sentiment, till I have thought of it over again. I confess I am not as yet quite settled, since | began to have a clearer view of the Gospel. Loveg. 1 hope you don’t mean to turn preacher, t you have settled what you are to preach. I am to ihe other young preachers, that have adopted th sentiments, have had two or three turns, since their first turn ; it will be well, if some of them don’t tum Atheists before they have finished all their turnings. Mal. I hope we shan’t go too far, but you know what a deal we have of do, do, do, from every Pulpit, now a days. Loveg. Very proper, while we duly attend to the evnagelical principles of our Sibles, it is our duty to insist upon their practical effects, and consequences apon the heart. Mal. O yes Sir! but what does it avail, to tell dead ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 301 ‘men to work for life ; ‘for as for striving, we are surc to be saved, whether we strive or no, if we are elected, what signifies doing any thing,’ we do but labor in yain. ifa man will ron a hundred miles for money, if that money be proffered to him athis door, before be steps out of his house ; his journey is in vain, seeing he might have had it, if he had staid at home.” Loveg. What then becomes of a thousand practical directions, as we have them throughout the scriptures? are we not commanded to ‘‘run, that we may ob- tain,” to strive, or rather to agonize, that we may “en- ter into the strait gate ;” to “fight the good fight of faith ;’ to “give diligence to make our calling and jection sure ;” so “‘ work out our own salvation, with fear and trembling.” _ Mal. Yes, but is it not next directly said; “ for it is God that worketh in us, to will, and to do, of his good pleasure ?” what does our attempting to work signify, till it is his good pleasure that we «should pwork ? _ Mer. Why, Ishould have thought, that it was given to us, as a word of encouragement, that we might ‘ork ; and when he works in us, to will, and to do; illing, and doing also, must be the certain result. | Mail. 1 know not how these new lights, as you call em, get over such passages, but I once heard one say, that “these legal strivings, have been the cause pf the damnation of thousands ;” and a certain’great divine in our way thus expresses himself; «‘ Let sub- duing of sin alone for peace.—While you labor to get by duties, you provoke God as much as in you lies.” Now this is a strong expression I confess ; but tis all against a legal spirit. | Loveg. What then, isa man tobe damned for seek-. ag his own good, in the salvation of his soul, though i know his primary object is, and must be the glory of God. | Mai. Primary object! I say it should be no ob- ect atall, “that all our prayings, fastings, watchings, tepentings, believings to obtain peace of conscience, DD 302 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. or heaven, are abominable, and answer no other end, than to deceive our own souls, and to rob Christ of his glory. e _ Loveg. Now I say just the reverse; for in seeki God’s glory, we should remember that God in infinite mercy, has made it our duty to seek for the same blessedness in ourselves: for does he not design that “men shall be blessed in him?” else what mean a thon- sand passages like these? “ He looked for the re- compence of reward.” ‘Let us therefore labor to enter into his-rest, lest any of us should seem to fall short ;’ when the talents were given with the com- mand, “occupy till I come,” was it not with a design that they might be benefitted by it? and when laborers were sent into the vineyard, to labor fora penny a day, was it not, that they should receive ther wages! Don’t be frighted: Sir, I did not mean a re- ward of merit, or of debt: for after the best of all our doings, we are still unprofitable servants; all is but our bounden duty ; it is therefore entirely the reward of grace and mercy from him, and not less a debt of gratitude from us towards that most gracious master, that favors us, in accepting such feeble services at our hands. ; Mal. After all that you have said; in my y such sentiments lead us under the daw. Loveg. .Then under the law may we be led; While the bible further tells us, that “zn, though not for, - keeping his commands, there is great reward :” that therefore we should “hunger and thirst righteousness, that we may de filled.” . Are we rea repent for this end, that our sins may be blotted out to believe in the Lord Jesus, that we may be saved? What could Paul mean, when he wrote to Timothy, and said, “in so doing thou shalt save: thyself and, them that hear thee?” and what could the same apos-' tle mean, when he said, “I keep my body under. subjection, lest by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway?” can any words be more explicit, than the words that tell us, | ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. sus | ‘when the wicked man turneth away fram his wick- dness, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he hall save his soul alive?” while the contrary curse is wonounced against the wicked, if they die in their ims; like as it is said, “‘ to-day, if ye will hear his joice, harden not your hearts, as in the day of pro-— ‘ocation ;” and what can be more cogent, than the xhortation of the same apostle, “see that ye refuse ‘ot him that speaketh, for if they escaped not, who efused him that spake on earth; much mure shall ‘ot we escape, if we turn away from him that speak- ith from heaven? for how shall we escape, if we seglect so great salvation ?” | Mer. And what can be plainer than the Apostle’s shortation: “‘ wherefore be ye stedfast, unmoveable, ways abounding in the work of the Lord ;-foras- guch as you know, your labor is not in vain in the ford?” But what does any other quotations signify ; 2otives from the threatenings, and promises of God, ire endless ? and can it be sinful to attend to them, or the promotion of our own good, when they are iven to us for that very purpose? Mal. Well, I still believe it, though we may by our egal workings, and strivings of all sorts, expect to et adeal; yet “ I'll speak plainly, there are none of ll these things, that conduce a jot towards obtaining ny of these ends which you propose to yourselves ; or when we labor, by prayer, and seeking the Lord, 0 prevail with God, to take away his displeasure, and oprocuresuch good; weservenot God, butourselves.” | Loveg. So then a man does not serve God, all the ime he does serve him: if according to scripture he te the good, and benefit of it to his own soul hereby; while he thus attends to his duty, as God jas commanded, and the means of grace that he hath a. Are we forbidden to love ourselves, while € are commanded to love God, and to keep his ommandments ? Mal. Why you know what is said against that > principle ; ‘‘ Men shall be lovers of their own selves. | 304 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. 4 Loveg. You will soon knock up your own character! as a lawyer, if you cannot distinguish between | spirit of selfishness, which makes us care for no o interest but our own. Christians delight themselves in the Lord, while it is “ Christ within them, i. is the hope of-glory ;” and thus it is promised in re- turn, that ‘‘a good man shall be satisfied from him-| self.” % | Mal. Satisfied from himself! how can that be? | Lovey. Had you been better acquainted with A sober and wise language of the book of Proverbs, I would charitably hope you would have been more cautious in your objections. 1 plainly perceive, how constantly you shuffle from all the practieal and per- ceptive parts of the word of God, lest they should be brought against the preconceived opinions you have lately formed. I fear this proves, that thereisa sad core of dangerous Antinomianism at the bottom of your heart. ee Mal. Sir, 1 am not against loving God, or our neighbours, if we can do it disinterestedly. © Loveg. You appear to me to be quite bewildered in what you are at. Because we ought entirely aim at God’s glory, above all things; therefore We must not aim at all, at our own happiness in the en. joyment of this God, while it is Ged’s grand aim do us good; therefore it should not be our aim ‘ce to do ourselyes good, because we ought to obey out of gratitude and love; therefore we should nt obey him, if we hoped for any blessing for ourselves, as the result. Because God hath engaged to give life, and happiness to the elect, when they have finished their warfare upon earth; therefore they must not design their own happiness in any thing they do, or scarcely venture one step towards it, lest they should be legal. or? Mal. Sir, I am just entering upon the study oi logic, and I dare say, 1 shall then be able to refute al you have’ advanced. wi Mr. John. [To Mr. Merryman.] Sir, Pll tell you ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 805 what entirely drove me out of our meeting. I de- clare I had rather hear common cursing and swearing, than such sort of doctrine, that ‘‘if 1 am holy, I am | never the better accepted of God. If I am unholy, Lam never the worse. This [am sure of, that he : that elected me, must save me.” | Sav. Ah Cousin John, you and I were both too ‘much bigotted to the walls of our old meeting, but I am sure it was our duty to leave the place, since the truth has left it. | Mal. Left the truth? why there was never so much | truth preached in that meeting-house till of late, since it has been built. I never knew how to come by assurance of faith, till I heard it set forth in that ‘meeting, about a fortnight ago. Ihave now done with all my former doubts and fears, since I have left off hearing you Mr. Merryman; no wonder that my .soul was kept in bondage, while I was directed to ‘look after a hundred marks and evidences, that I might examine myself by them. | Loveg. If this.is your way of talking young man; though you have ceased to doubt for yourself, I hope |you will give us leave to doubt for you. If you are afraid to know the state of your own mind, it is a sad ) evidence against you. |’ Mal. Well, well, I have now no fears left upon that score ; here I have it in my short notes, what is to be ithe ground,of my assurance for the time to come ; [he reads, | ‘‘ Would you know that the Lord hath laid _your iniquities upon Christ, you must know it thus. | First, is there a voice behind thee, or within thee, jeeens particularly to thee, Thy sins are forgiven thee?” Loveg. Stop sir. I did not know that enthusiasm, and antinomianism were so near akin, for that the ‘knowledge of our pardon is to rest upon fancied, \personal revelation to each individual. Mal. Sir, I had not finished my quotation, you i will find it is the word we goby. “ Dost thou see this yoice agree with the word of grace ? that is, j | Sh6 DIALOGUE XXKVHL Dost thou see it is held out to the most vile, and wretched creatures, as thou canst be ? and upon this revelation of the mind of the Lord by his spirit, ac cording to the word, doth the Lord give thee to re- ceive that testimony of the spirit, to sit down with if, as satisfied, that upon this, thou makest full reckoning, thou hast propriety in this particular to thyself? thou dost receive the testimony according to th word, here is thy evidence thou hast thy, propriet and portion in this.” Now Sir, what say you 3 this ? Loveg. With your leave Sir, I would ask you this question. If, and while, I continue one of the most vile, and wretched creatures I can be, I can but per suade myself I am perfectly pardoned, without warrant or evidence besides; am I to believe it, and then boldly to say, that the Holy Spirit enabled me to believe the abominable antinomian lie, without any of those sanctifying evidences, that faith must p duce upon the heart ? * Mal. Yes, 1 know that legal preachers demand of us heaps of evidences ; some of these will tell us, «that love to the brethren, universal obedience, sin- cerity, singleness of heart, and all other inherent qualifications, are signs, by which we should judge of our state, but I say they are not.” Loveg. 'Then we are not to mind what John says; “ we know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren.” ~4 Mal. 1 have no doubt, but that I shall be capab to give an answer to that text soon, when I am able better to understand it; but 1 have marked down some other fine, bold strokes, which I have lately heard from some, who know how to preach the Gos- pel, without clogging it with evidences. I have them here in my notes. ‘‘ Sanctification is so far from ‘evidencing a good state, that it darkens it ra- ther, and a man may more clearly see Christ, “— he seeth no sanctification ; than when hedoth. Th darker my sanctification is, the brighter is my justir ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 807 fication ; for a man cannot evidence his justification, by his sanctification; but he must needs build upon his sanctification, and trust in it.” _ Loveg. How so? Ask the most devoted Christian ‘upon earth, whether he makes that as his confidence ; ‘which he humbly receives as an evidence, that his heart is right with God, and that his confidence in Christ alone is correct. Mal. Why “God won't suffer his people to be over righteous, lest they should trust in it.” . I heard ‘apreacher say, “it was a soul damning error, to make sanctification an evidence of justification ;” and ‘that << the more we sinned, the more we might believe in the simple testimony of his word, who justifieth ‘the ungodly, without any intermixture of faith, and repentance ; or any thing else from-us.” _ -Loveg. It is really most dreadful, to hear you thus ‘run on, denying the solemn work of the Holy Spirit upon the heart, as an evidence of the reality of our faith. _ Mal. No Sir, I only say, “the seal of the Spirit is limited, only to the immediate witness of the spirit ; mor doth it ever witness to any work of grace upon the heart.” Loveg. Why then, if the Holy Spirit does not wit- mess to his own grace upon the heart, are we to sup- ‘pose he witnesses to nothing ? | Mal. Why the truth is, “I know I am Christ's ; ‘not because I do crucify the lusts of the flesh; but hecause I believe in Christ that crucified my lusts for me.” Lovey. Do you mean this, in direct opposition to that passage, *« God forbid that I should glory, save in the Cross of the Lord Jesus Christ; by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world?” . ‘But I have rather a curiosity to ask you, if you have any thing further in your notes about this curious wit- nessing of the spirit, to wind up the business. Mal, ** Is there any thing in the world of better ‘oredit, than the Spirit? we must not therefore try it | { 308 DIALOGUE XXXVIIL. by any thing else, or question it, for this is the w of grace, according to which he speaks. -Reconcilix the world unto himself, even the world, when mei are no otherwise, but merely men of the world.” Loveg. Now Sir, I think you have put your finis ing stroke to what you call the witness of the Spirit even an unregenerate person may have the witnes of the Spirit; though in himself, earthly, sonia Devilish, a child of the Devil, of the blackest sort thus the pure and Holy Spirit of God, and of itself, is most profanely supposed to witness, to most abominable lie, and to byoy up those, who of their father the Devil, in their way to hell. | Mer. And that, contrary to the most express testi monies of scripture that can possibly be record “« If ye love me, ye will keep my commandments ; ¥ know that we know him, because we keep his a mandments ;” ‘‘ Know ye not, that ye are reprob. cut off from God, if Christ be not im you ?” and it is “ Christ in us, that is the hope of glory?” the Spirit beareth witness with our spirits, that we are the children of God?” can the same spirit, bean the same witness to the children of the Devil? Are scription of the good man’s character, of the same s of Loveg. {{nterrupts.] My dear friend, if you go ot with all the evidences the Bible holds forth, this cor versation will last this fortnight, while ridicule itsel ight justly be called in to expose an error, so pix posterous, and so false. The spirit of truth is t make me believe, that I am, what I am not; am then after believing, I become that which I am no’ Thus the humble vicar of Lower Brookfield may be lieve, he is Archbishop of Canterbary, while he can -not produce a single evidence of the fact, that is but from his own imagination. And you Mr. Mal pert, may as well suppose, that having just set off i the law line, that you are by faith, become the Lor ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 309 } chief Justice of the court of king’s bench; or my | Lord Chancellor if you please. | Mer. And the long confined debtor, may believe | that all his debts are discharged, though he has no /evidence from his surety, that he has the: most distant ‘design of paying, even a single sixpence of them. | Mr. Savory, supposing you were to go up to London, and there get into a little trade, and then fancy with- jout sense, or reason, that you are Lord Mayor of London, would that really make you so ? | Sav. If I have nct been twisting my thumbs, one vover another, till Tam quite in amazement. But I [see where these abominable doctrines lead to, more than ever. Iam grieved at heart that they should ‘come over our Jordan, to join our denomination. It some how, seems not to our credit, that when they became determined to separate themselves, as far as they could, from all others, they should come over ito us; I wish they had continued where they were, for they have made dreadful havock and divisions among us ; though I can assure you, that neither of you ministers, can dislike their ways, and doctrines orse, than many of ours do. John. {to his cousin.] I think cousin, we have been too stiff in refusing to hold communion with any ut our own party, I find there are other Christians as good as ourselves, still you and I have got some good out of the evil; for you know, what sad heavy work it was, for us to go to our meeting, sabbath, after sabbath: and of late, without having the most distant hope, or expectation of the least benefit in any thing we heard, while one person would be yawning in one pew, or another would be half asleep in another ; and another fast asleep in a third: it was shocking work to be starved as we were, for want of some spiritual food, that was likely to do us good. | Sav. I am sure, that at last 1 was quite starved ut of the place, though I had somewhat to do, to eave it ; especially as from the prejudice of educa- tion, my mind ran pretty strong against the Church. 310 DIALOGUE XXXVIII, John. And so did mine cousin, we both of us were ready to cry, ‘‘ Can any good thing come out of Naza. reth ?” but blessed be God, after we had been starve¢ out from our old meeting, we soon found our mistake Sav. Lrepented a number of times, that I did not leave it before; but when he preached upon thai text, “‘ without holiness no man shall see the Lord; that quite did for me. +h Mer. Why what, could he make of thet text—Ti was quite plain enough, a Sav. It was so tome, till our old minister made a puzzle of it. He has been called old parson puzzle- text, for some years in our town; but whenever th of that sort, get hold of any text that insists up practical godliness ; they are sure to be flounderin about, to get rid of the meaning of it if they possibh can. If I know any thing of myself, I love such blessed passages to the bottom of my heart. > _Loveg. And so does every soul that is sanctified in Christ; but what did he make of the text ? 4) Sav. Why without Christ, no man shall see God, Loveg. Very true; but had he the ignorance to assert, that such was the meaning of that passage. _ Sav. Yes Sir, and he thought he proved it, by observing what was said just before ; ‘‘ follow peace with all men ;” that says he, must mean Christ, for ‘‘ he is our peace,” and therefore to follow holiness, means the same thing. Loveg. How is it possible to, suppose, that such people can believe their own nonsense? I should be mclined to laugh at their folly, if I was not grieved a’ their bad design. ae Mer. Yes, it appears to me, that the design is a bad as itcan be. That word following, don’t agre with their creed ; it sounds too, much like increasing, and getting nearer to a certain desired point; anda for following peace, divisions and disputings, see to be the first chapter in their creed; and as fo: holiness, what have they to do with that, while im- puted sanctification, makes up for every thing ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. all Their perversion of such passages as these, must have the most dangerous tendency upon the minds of such lax and wanton professors, who have no heart to walkin those ways of holiness, though ‘‘ God has foreordained, that we should walk in them.” - Mal. Whatever you may say against the meaning of that text, a great minister in the west of England jn our way, is of the same sentiments; and as for what you say Mr. Merryman; the great Doctor that I principally admire, has these words ; ‘ It is a con- ceived conceit among some persons, that our obedi- ence is the way to heayen; and though it be not as they say, the cause of our reign, yet it is the way to the kingdom. [ tell you all, that this sanctification of life, 2s not a jot the way of the justified person into heaven :” the truth is, since redemption is managed by Christ, the Lord hath appointed other ends and purposes of our obedience, than salvation. “ Salvation as not the end of any good work we do.” Sav. Why then if I repent, and believe the gospel, in order that I may ‘‘ receive the end of my faith, even the salvation of my soul ;’ I am doing wrong all the while I am doing right, according to the express command of God. If this is to be the doctrine that is to be preached at our meeting, you may go into the pew, that cousin Jolin and I occupied, we shall never go there any more to turn you out. _ Mal. confess that some of these strong meat ex- pressions, were more than I could at first digest my- self; yetnow Ican swalloweven whatmy beloved Doc- tor further said: ‘you will say then, we had as good sit still. He that works all day, and gets nothing better than he kad in the morning, had as good sit still, and do nothing.—Let me tell you the prevention of evil, IF THERE BE ANY EVIL IN IT, or the obtaining of good, IF THERE BE REALITY OF GOOD. Peace of conscience ; joy in the Holy Ghost; pardon of sin; the infallibility of miscarriage; the light of God’s countenance; all these I say, are abundantly pro- \vided for you, and established firmly on you, by the | } 4 al 312 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. mere grace of God in Christ, before ever you pe form any thing whatsoever.’ Loveg. O en | ! by this, I find I am to believe have it, before I have it; and I must not seek that may find, because it is thus abundantly provided fi me ; and lest I should seek my own good, as well the ‘glory of God in those blessings of grace, whie are so richly provided for me.—Why all this is abt dantly below common sense ; it is uncommon nor sense, while your Doctor forbids me to seek, that may find, because it is unnecessary, God’s commar is, “seek that you may find.” And’because the kim donor means to do me good in the things he fre gives, { must not seek my own good in the enjoym of it, though he designs it. Mer. But what shocked me most, was, that wh ali of us know better than to suppose, that our obedi ence is the cause of our reign; yet that it was even one jot the way to the kingdom. So that seems the way of holiness is entirely cut up by thei sort of gospel. I hear also of the ways of the wick will it be admitted by these antinomians, t cursing, swearing, and all sorts of debauchery, is right way to heaven? or is there no way at all there! bat am [ not told ef the way of truth; the way@ righteousness ; the right way ; a more excellent way. and the way of salvation; as well as the salvation itself : are we not told of the narrow way, that leads to life ; on which the just progressively are found walk ? to whom God hath given one heart, and om way ? are we not decidedly told, that the way of the justis uprightness ; and does not David talk of run ning m the way of God’s commandments, while we are’ of athigh way, which is called -the way of holiness on which the unclean are not to pass—where am 1) What am I hearing? most mercifully has God: giy i me a thousand directions how to walk, as a travelli ng stranger and pilgrim upon earth? ‘and am I not to bt directed by them? are they to mean nothing? am! s0 wise in my own conceit, as to need no directions t ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 313 et me right, when I am wrong; or to keep me right vhen I am so? _ Mal. O Sir, that is a long established rule among ll of us, that the law is norule of life to a believer; or “we are dead to the law by the body of Christ.” Loveg. But Sir, go on with the quotation if you jlease, if not, I must do it for you. Why are we aid to be dead to the law, through the body of Christ, ‘that we should be married to another, even to him vho is raised from the dead ; that we should bring orth fruit unto God; and that we should serve in ewness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the let- er?” In short, that the spirit of obedience, which ye have lost by the covenant of works, should be re- tered to us by the covenant of grace; so that not nly all needed grace should be communicated to the eart, but that whenever God sees sin in us, it may be onquered and subdued, from day to day. _ Mal. -How can God see sin in his elect? The great Joctor I so much admire, thus settles that point, by ie following noble strain of argumentation, among aose, who are bold enough to believe they are the lect, without evidence ; yea, and in spite of evidence contrary. “'Thongh such persons do act in re- allion, yet the loathsomeness, the abominableness, ad | hatefulness of this. rebellion, i is laid on the back of ; he bears the sin, as well as the blame, and ne ; ‘and that is the only reason why God can with those, who do act the thing ; and if it be a, how should God know eyery sin the believer oth commit, and yet not remember them? the an- ver is, though God remembers the things theu hast pme, yet he doth not remember them as thine ; for bers perfectly, they are none of thine: when ?passed them over to Christ, they ceased to be thine longer ; so that the Lord hath nof‘one sin to charge on an elect person, from the first moment of con- ption, to the last moment of life ;’no, nor ori is not to be laid upon him, the Lord hath laid it Christ already ; yea, every elect vessel of God, VOL. 3. Qe 314 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. from the first instant of his being, is as pure in eyes of God, from the charge of sin, as he shall be glory; and itis the voice of a lying spirit iny hearts, that saith, that you who are believers, hay yet sin, wasting your consciences, and iying:s as a bu den, too heavy for you to bear.” 4 Loveg. How awfully near all this daring rant is, | _ blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, whose saere work it is, to. convince of sin, and so to reproye for it, that we may know, and feel, that it is anvey and bitter thing, to sin against the Lord! Was il lying spirit in the heart of Magdalene, that made hi weep much, because she had sinned much? was it lying spirit in Peter, that made him go out and w bitterly? was it a lying spirit in John the Bapt that said, “Repent ye, for the kingdomof heaven is hand?” was it a lying spirit in our Lord Jesus Chr himself, when he said, ‘‘ Except ye repent, ye shall likewise perish ?” and did the Holy Ghost hims create a lying spirit.in the hearts of three thous believing sinners, when at-the same time, they er under the grace 6 repentance unto life, “‘ What x we do to be saved?” Really the common blasphem that is to be heard in the world, is as nothing whe! compared to the deliberate blasphemy which ntino mianism suggests. — ee Mer. Onewould suppose, that thik predane, all dar set, never read what it cost David, all the’ days of hy life, after his most grievous fall, in which he so hight displeased the Lord ; that the sword never “terward departed from his house ; how he beclouded all hb own evidences, and how ‘he went on with his brok bones, to the very verge of the grave; till just last, a beam of divine light, was restored to his mii whereby he was enabled to say; “thou hast m with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all thin, and sure.’ - Mal. But the great divine I have before mentio ed, thinks otherwise; for he thus asks the questis ** Was not David a justified person? and did not : | ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 315 bear his own sins! “ My sins are gone over my head.” After several things he answers; “I must. tell you all, that what David speaks here, he speaks from amself; and all that David speaks from himself, was got truth; David might mistake, that God should sharge his sins upon him:” and I also coincide with the Doctor, in what be further says: “ Before a be- jiever doth confess his sin, he may beas certain of the sardon of it, as after confession, that there is as much eicied to be confident of the pardon of sin to a be- lever, as soon as ever he has committed it, though he h not made a solemn act of confession, as to be- ieve it, after he hath performed all the humiliation in he world; eyen though it be adultery, and murder ; is was the case with David.” | Loveg. So that all the contrite language of David, in = Sist psalm, was not only fruitless, but the language f a lying spirit; what a horrid perversion of the ee sen of David, and how awfully calculated to den sinners, in their transgressions. Mal. Sir, I sha’nt be ashamed to tell you, how finely lis free graee author proceeds. ‘ But you will say, I the promises of pardon, dorun with this proviso, 1 case men humble themselves ; in case men do this, d that ; then pardon is theirs; otherwise it is none, ‘theirs.— Take heed of such doctrine.—There is lothing but joy, and gladness; there is not one fit of adness in any believer, but he is out of the way.” God doth no longer stand offended, nor displeased, ough a believer, after he is a believer, do sin often ;” because he doth not find the sin of a believer, to @ his own sin, but he finds it the sin of Christ ;” so t “ if a man know himself to be in astate of grace, gh he be drunk, or commit murder, God sees re in him ;” ‘ so that what signifies telling believers, kcept they perform such, and such duties; except ey walk thus, and thus holily ; and do these, and ose good works ; they shall come under wrath; or least, God will be angry with them; what do we in is but abuse the scriptures? We undo all that 316 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. Christ hath done ; we injure believers ; we tell Go that he lies. to his face.” se 4 Mer. If it was not following too much the coars vulgar style of your beloved author; I should be a to tell you to the face, that you lie: in supposing th all but antinumians abuse the scriptures, and mo blasphemously, by making it a poit, to insist upe that, which is spiritual, and practical ; in connexis with that, which is evangelical, as I trust we all ¢ and shall do; ‘striving together for the hope of gospel.” Sav. Ah! but all strivings are at end with n One of them told me the other day, “ the efficacy Christ’s death is, to kill all activity of graces in | members, that he might act all, in all.” a John. Another of them said worse than that to the other day ; “‘ I see no need to make such a gre stir about graces, and looking to hearts ; but give: Christ : I seek not for graces, but for Christ: I st not for promises but for Christ; I seek not for sanc fication, but for Christ; tell not me of meditatic and duties, But tell me of Christ!!!” a Loveg. This is separating Christ, and holiness wi a vengeance ; if thisis not making Christ the minist of sin, I know not what is. But all this is perf consistent, with another daring expression of “‘ sin can do a believer no harm.” Mal. No more it can.—For our great Doctor has declared it, that “‘ they need not be afraid of thei sins ; they that have God for their God, there is ng sin that ever they commit, can possibly do them hurt: therefore as their sins cannot hurt them, sq there is no cause of fear in their sins committed) there is not one sin, nor all the sins together, of a believer, can possibly do that believer any hurt.” Loveg. Did the Apostle think so, when he wrot the 7th. of the Romans? where he complains of sin as the greatest plague, and cried, “ O wretche man that I am, who shall deliver me from the hody 0 this death !” ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED, 217 ‘Mal. Our Doctor says, “ give me leave to tell you, ‘that the Apostle in this chapter, as I conceive, doth personate a scrupulous spirit, and doth not speak out bis own present case.” Loveg. In the name of wonder, and of common sense, why not? What can be the reason for such gross, and palpable perversions of scripture, without lee design, extremely dangerous, and destructive to the souls of men? Mal. Sir, I am ready to vindicate the truth still Christ alone exalted, is the great subject our Doctor imed at. I will therefore read you a few lines further m this subject, before 1 conclude.—‘‘ Now sin is ondemned to the heliever,* it can do no hurt at all to im. Yea, sins are but scare-crows, and bug-beare md understanding, see they are counterfeit things ; hey are to know for a certainty, they are but a made hing ;” there is no fear from the sins of believers. Il the fearfulness of sin, Christ himself hath drank t—Stn is dead, and there is no more terror in it, than sin a dead lion:” and so further, “ the sins of the es, cannot hurt God’s people, though they hada and in them.” And now gentlemen, you shall have y last quotation. “ Are you sinful in respect of the revalency of corruption, let it not come into your gind, that you are worse than others; yea, so often as 1en fear affliction from sin committed, so often do they lander the grace of God.” 'These Sir, are my gene- sentiments ; but as yet, I am not quite settled, in that I have advanced. Mer. No wonder at that, for there are others, der than yourself, who are “ ever learning, and lever able to come to the knowledge of the truth.” _ Loveg. In all my life time, I never heard before, * Because Christ becamie actually, and personally the sin- ; not merely the sacrifice on the sinners behalf, while e sinner actually, and personally stands as the Savior ; en this hinge or pivot, the whole machinery of antinomiar- m, seems to turn. ‘ | { ‘0 fright ignorant children: but men of insight, | 1 318 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. such dangsrous, and barefaced assertion i holiness, and purity of divine truth. To Mrvoms souls may be one of the elect of God, and yet be permitted to live in tie worst of sins, under the fluence of the most atrecious crimes, and die in im penitence, and unbelief; not only gives the lie tot direct testimony of all seripture; but has an imme ate tendency to harden the sinner in his sins; whi the whimsical idea, that Christ was actually made the sinner; while the sinner takes the Savior’s place not only nullifies every idea of the vicarious sacrifi of him that suffered the just for the unjust ; equally hardens the impenitent, since they are ni given to believe, that whatever sins they comm Christ committed them for them; and that therefore they cannot sin, because Christ virtually sinned 1 them. But that thé holy God should even hate, anc abhor, his infinitely, well beloved Son, because he who knew no sin, suffered in the sinner’s stead, and was hated of God, as bad as if he had been the De himself.— This, in my opinion, is most dreadfully pro- fane. No wonder that from such principles, the practical truths of the gospel, should be next sub- jected to a most profane attack. ‘‘ All diligence t make our calling and election sure,” is treated by m of such sentiments, as a most dangerous error, and even robbing Christ of his glory; and no wonder at the conclusion of the whole, that if the infatuated ¢ tinomian enthusiast can merely from the fond fancy ol his own mind, conceit himself to pe one of God's elect : he is just as safe, whether he dies a Mat at the stake, or a criminal at the gallows : fort concluding horrible conceit is, “« Sin can do a believer no harm ;” and whether he sins, or serves God, it is all the same ; for God sees no sin in his elect, even while they Commit the worst of sins !!! } Mal. Sir, whatever you may think of our doct ines some of our ministers, are very moral, and consisten' in their characters. , Loveg. So they should, or suffer the correction ¢ ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 319 the law; yet I know that others of them, have been most abominably wicked. - Mal. But Sir, those of them who have it to spare, are very generous to the poor. Loveg. So they ought——My poor vicarage, and increasing family, allow me to do but little. What t matter is it, to give away that which 1 don’t want for myself? But in whatever they may give, I dare say, they first remember themselves. Mal. Sir, I only meant to say, we are no enemies to morality, upon proper principles. Loveg. No more you should, unless you meant to be candidates for the gallows, ora gaol. But Sir, can any sort of ah apology be granted for sentiments like yours. When a man can dare to throw open the floodgates of iniquity, by such loose and wanton ex- pressions; can he excuse himself, that he is not so iniquitous? Is not such external morality as this, within the power even of an atheist to perform, while ‘the thin varnish, renders the evil of such pernicious sentiments less suspected, and consequently more fatal to the less cautious among the thoughtless of man- kind? ? _ Mer. It is not to be supposed that the devil would walk abroad without a slipper to cover his cloven foot, that he might be the better able to deceive. When he appears like a chimney-sweeper, at once people ike set upon their guard, but when dressed like-a miller, he is more apt to prevail. - But Sir, another evil comes in with all this. A sad indifference re- specting the salvation ofthe souls of men. Instead of seeking after sinners that are gone far from Ged, I am ‘told that some of them have actually supposed, that St. Pan was under asortof carnal, or fleshly love to the souls of men, contrary to the decree of election, when he ke yearned over souls in the bowels of Jesus Christ,” and while he travailed in birth till Christ was formed within them, and when he prayed them in Christ’s stead, to he reconciled to -God.” Their principal work is to disturb peaceable congregations that they : 320 DIALOGUE XXXVIIL. may draw away disciples after them; and thus to fish in their troubled waters, to the grief and perples i of many minds. Loveg. That is a fixed principle with them, th nothing is to be done in addressing the consciences of unawakened sinners. a Mal. Sir, we never call dead men to work as yi do, for we are sure the nonelect will never come our bidding. 1 wonder that you should be always calling dead sinners to repentance. , Loveg. Because Christ set us the example. F who alone gives the life still tells us he came, “not call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” All f prophets ‘did the same, the general strain of th language was, “turn ye, turn ye from your evil way for why will ye die, O house of Israel!’ Did x John the Baptist preach entirely to sinners, that | might call them to repentance? and was it not t great work of the Apostles to preach “ repentan towards God, who commandeth all men to repent,” and to “pray them in Christ’s stead to be reconciled” God,” while even that wretched sinner, Simon Magt was directed to pray, if so be the wickedness of | heart might be forgiven him ? BR Mal. Well, I don’t want to argue the point a further, but after all, I think it most consistent fo preach as our ministers do, to tell the nonelect plain and publicly, that they have nothing to say to the for that their message is only to the elect. | Loveg. Pray Sir, does election rest with you, with God ? os Mal, O surely it rests with God. Loveg. So we think, and consequently deliver | message as he has directed us. Itis an awful stre em of the Devil, to prompt ministers who are | mitted to believe his lie, to leave ruined sinners aidressed, and unalarmed, when we are so expressly commanded “ to cry aloud and spare not, and to lift up the voice like a trumpet,” or in Paul's languag , “awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dez ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED, 32k and Christ shall give thee light.” I hate this fasti- ious nonsense. What have we known nothing of divine truth throughout the land, till a few juvenile upstarts have lately appeared to instruct us? _ Mal. Sir, I had better go home, you seem to be much displeased. __ Loveg. Not personally at you Sir, but at the sen- timents you" have advanced, whereby the-world is ‘confirmed in all their objections against divine truth, ‘that “ we may continue in sin, that grace may abound.” Th vain we cry, “‘ may God forbid,” while they will be happy to fly to such a testimony against us. And though we have not the least apprehension of any truly serious, and sober minded christians being mov- ed away ftom the purifying truths of the Gospel, b ‘such daring expressions, and impure doctrines, yet all this cannot but bring upon us a day of rebuke and blasphemy, which will be severely felt. Could any infidel upon earth, have wished a better opportunity, for the exercise of his profane ridicule on the sacred doctrine of our election in Christ, and so directly eontrary to the word of God, in which the cause and the effect, are so solemnly united with each other ; that “we are elect according to the foreknowledge of God through sanctification of the Spirit unto obedience ;” that “‘ we are saved and called with an holy calling.” ‘What can be more explicit than St. Paul’s declara- tion, that “‘ we are predestinated to be conformed to ‘the-image of his dear Son?” and that he hath chosen us that we may “be holy and without blame before ‘him in love?” Js there one single instance through- out the Bible, where election is mentioned, unconnect- ed with personal sanctification, as producing the in- variable fruits and effects of righteousness upon the heart and life? | Mal. Oh Sir, I shall be too late if I don’t go di- rectly to Mr. John Crispin’s with the indentures, which must be signed this day by twelve o’clock. He has a deal of work, and is going to take another appren- tice, 322 DIALOGUE XXXVIII. i Mr. Malapert retires, and thus the conversat ended. ‘The reader may suppose, how much Mr Merryman and his company, were disgusted at the daring things they had heard, and should any perso ignorantly assert, that such sentiments can be founded | on what is called calvinism, they know not what cals] vinism means; for in no one instance are they corre: and which may be best known by their direct op; sition to each other. The propriety therefore of the expression ef Hypercalvinism is, what I cannot uw derstand, as though a real lie was lurking under t disguise of truth. Is itto be supposed, that a pers who cultivates a very scrupulous attention to integr ty, is advancing nearer to knayery, or that such as ai aiming at the highest degree of purity in their de- portment, are advancing thereby into all that is fildl and impure? Dowe get nearer to a point, by advan ing further from it! how then is it possible th a high degree of any thing that deseryes the name 6 truth, should lead into the contrary error ; will an ex treme sense of our total depravity lead us to any thing but extreme humiliation, and self-abasement before God? Can an extreme feeling of our utter inabilit to help ourselves, and that all our help must come alone from the agency of the Divine Spirit; lead us t any thing, but a more solemn and entire dependane on that agency, for the communications of all that i holy and good? Will an extreme attention to the eternal obligations we are and must be under, to obey the.law, create in us any thing but a most holy and circumspect obedience to its precepts. Assuredly it will, and must be so; and such are the principles that Calvinism, however misrepresented and caricature most solemnly avows, while it shall be left to others to vindicate that lax law of obedience, which som have imagined to exist that we are to do as well we can, or that a certain something is still left the freedom of the will: that a man may give ANTINOMIANISM UNMASKED. 323 turn to the scale of the divine favor, whenever he nay chuse.* On this many thousands are found most presump- uously to depend, and thereby are tempted most uvfully to neglect their immortal concerns, and though ul are by no means equally presumptuous, yet such s the antinomianism that arminianism still suggests, vhile Antinomianism of a grosser kind, speaks without lisguise, a language that is peculiarly profane, and srossly bad. Let the doctrines of grace be allowed 0 speak their own language, and then let it be asked, f the high commanding banner against Antinomian- sm under every disguise, is not best established in hose hands, who from this tower of divine truth, either allow the sinner to be his own savior, nor yet ‘an admit a salvation from the damnation that sin de- erves, but not from the dominion that sin has meres. re * See Dialogue 27. DIALOGUE XXXIX. BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. WORTHY, AND DR. SKILLM/ . THE PHYSICIAN. a SAD TIDINGS FROM SANDOVER, OCCASIONED BY T SICKNESS, AND DEATH OF MR. MERRY MAN. 3 é "PERE was atime when I thought that former dialogues might have concluded th dramatic efforts ; I conceived a better finish could 1 have been devised, than to lower the claims of sect rian bigotry, so detrimental to that brotherly lo notwithstanding minor differences, which the g huine spirit of vital christianity, will most assure inspire. -'To this however, another was added, in der to shew the evils which must result, where ma riage connexions, (on which so much depends, a rashly formed, when both the courters, and the cou ed, blinded by a fond partiality, deceive each oth and lay a foundation of misery for themselves, wh follows them through life, till followed to the gi But we live in a world, chequered with an al dance of misery, because of our sinfulness befe God; yet still most graciously blended, with ri displays of mercy, among those to whom the promise, belongs ; that “all things shall work together for good to them that love God, and are the called ac- cording to his purpose.” No doubt but that pious readers, must be highly delighted with the ch racter of Mr. Merryman, so pleasant in his tempe so cheerful in his disposition, so lively, and so lo in all his manners, and withal, so truly devoted to ~ DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. “O25 God, and beneficial as a Minister to the souls of men. Can my Readers be prepared to bid adieu to the sharacter of one so dear? Is patience, and resigna- ion, to the sovereign will of God, to be so sharply ried, should he be called to hear, that the delightful Merryman is now no more? What strength of holy ubmission must have been needed" to possess the ninds of his relatives, in order to part with such dindred blood, and still to say, ‘ thy will be done!’ md how could the people of Sandoyer, bring their ninds under the deprivation of such a Minister, to =F “the Lord gaye, the Lord hath taken away, sed be the name of the Lord;” and what must len his very enemies have felt under the departure # such a man, while blessed with the holy art of dis- wming the most inveterate of them, by an affectionate, md delightful simplicity of disposition, as must have nade them sometimes wonder at themselves, how hey could hate a man like him. But who can pre- ent the fatal hand of disease, from falling upon the est beloved of the human race? or who can trace ¢ dispensations of Providence, that takes away the nost desirable, and shining characters, in the midst f their usefulness, and in the prime of life? while the vicked> and the worthless are permitted to live, and gemingly for no other purpose, than by their vile ee to spread contagion and death? Still he is Sovereign. He has a right to do what he will ; hile as a holy Sovereign, whatever he does, must ve ight, and though it is the highest wickedness to call he Almighty to the bar of our judgment, by profanely isking, “‘ what doest thou ?” yet surely it must be owledged, that while the righteous are the great- st blessing the earth can enjoy, by our sinfulness we orfeit our mercies, and in judgment he deprives us of hem ; while the wicked who are our greatest curse, n deserved wrath, as an evil blight, he permits stil! O exist. - But before we relate the painful tidings of the de- ai. QF nat 326 DIALOGUE XXXIX. - parture of Mr. Merryman, my readers. may -wish fo hear somewhat further of this excellent, and engagi man. ) Te was no sooner made a partaker of the that ecomplished a change so glorious, than he set himself to work to communicate the knowledge of that salvation to others ; the effects of which he §0 well understood, from the happy result upon his own| iaind. | It immediately became his constant. study, how his parishioners might be the partakers of the’li precious faith with himself. . He not only set up Sun- day schools, but established other little charitable institutions, for visiting the sick, and relieving poor, whereby he saved many of them from the bad way of seeking aid by parochial relief, which has such a fatal tendency to degrade the mind, while by the same means, he engaged their affectionate attention to his kind admonitions, for their everlasting good, Besides this, he was in the habit of going arou his Parish, into every hamlet, and almost into ey, cottage, collecting the people of his charge, in smi assemblies; and then with his Bible in his han the love of God and of souls in his heart, he wo aim at their instruction, in the most engaging st and afterwards enforce it by such familiar conyers tion, as astonishingly won the affections of all,, f not to God, yet to Mr. Merryman, as being too cap vating in all his manners, for the most rugged, a untutored to resist. | bs ee gets Oa On these occasions, he would diligently en any neglected public worship on the sabbatl what were their excuses for such a neglect. like attention was paid to their children, whethe properly prized the opportunities proyided. fo gratuitous instruction? and what. they. could say fe themselves, in suffering their innocent offspring, so ill used by them, as, to permit them to be absei from these useful'schools? As most people aim at é I excuse for doing that which is wrong, it, struck ‘= af = DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 327 ect mind, that one commion excise, the want of ér apparel, might be obviated by the formation ‘a society, for this laudable purpose. The plan ‘was To sooner proposed, than adepted. He con- -yened his female friends together at Sandover, and d them into a wor king society, for the benefit of e ‘industrious poor, making it at the same time, a lool of instruction for some of the poor female lildren, that they might learn the same useful art. | OF this society Mr. Merryman became the president, oc other decent, and benevolent characters, who a little time, and property to spare, were happy ) associate themselves together, that they might form little manufactory, more immediately for the rehiliren the industrious poor; while the benefit of the same peter was extended to the parents also. And yhile many benevolent friends, would be sending their kind presents of new bought materials for these purposes, from different shops, yet the principal de- sien was of a humbler nature; viz. to fabricate the east off clothes of those who could consistently spare : , into smaller garments for the children’s use. ~ Tn order to facilitate this kind design, the Reader will not be surprized, when he is informed that Mr. yman, with his accustomed simplicity, and affa- y of mind, would request, even from the pulpit, frequently made the mere oracle of priestly im- ortance, that all such cast off garments might be sent 9 his house, as a present to the poor, and which would be thankfully received by him. ie “As designs of this kind, are soon put into tiga: i , through the good will of some, and the envy of others, no wonder {hat this was made a matter of triumph by Mr. Archdeacon Smoothtongue, and. Mr. Sil that the Rectory -kouse at Sandover, was turned into a ragman’s shop, and that Merryman had | crying from the pulpit, old clothes. But while the one had little more than the farce, and form of religion in his proud, and priestly appearance, without i doit of its divine realities; and while the other rd 328 DIALOGUE XXXIX.. ] from the mere ravings arising from the enmity of | nis heart, would be casting his envenomed reflections against this benevolent, and excellent youth, w free, easy, and not less usefal conduct, was such reproof to those who have no other design of living but as they live to themselves ; their invidious sneer were justly deemed by others, as being beneath con tempt. But it still remains with me to tell, how tha in an unprotected hour, according to our dark con ceptions, this interesting, and useful man, even in th faithful discharge of the duties of his office, we breught to an untimely grave. In the former editions of these dialogues, this even was made known by a sort of circuitous informa tion, which would net admit a detail of some cireur stances, which, though painful, may still be- pre fitable to the Reader's mind. — It is best that he shoul have it as a family event, as thereby the narration likely to be more correct, and much more interesting to those, who feel under such family selenite a Christians should. 7) He was called to visit one of his parishioners, wh was highly iafected with a putrid fever, which, < a. few days deprived him of his life.. This poor x I greatly alarmed at his unprepared state, sent for Merryman. He seeing him in such deep distress, bably continued in the infected room, highly cont nated with putrid air, and also very close, longer prudence might otherwise have suggested ; and fur promised to repeat his visit on the following day, r questing that some of the neighbours might then attend in an adjoining cottage, that he mm improve the event of the sudden seizure of thoughtless sinner. He went, but found him so ranged by the vehemence of the fever, as entire preclude him from deriving any advantage, his beneficial advice, but alas! he had scarcely finishet his improving, and impressive exhortation, before h | began to feel in himself, some strong symptoms f | the same disease ; after his return home; he immedi- | com DTATH OF MR.-MERRYMAN. 829 ately retired to his chamber, but the ragings of his fever, entirely deprived him from his rest, so that in the morning, very considerable alarm was excited, the feelings of Mrs. Merryman began to be acutely awakened, lest she should lose the best of husbands, after such an early; and happy union with each other ; while the inhabitants of Sandover, so happy in such a : ter, were filled with general consternation, lest y should be deprived of one ef the greatest pies ings they could enjoy. be From such alarming symptoms, it was deemed ne- , to call in the best medical aid the neighbour- Ihaod could afford, Dr. Skillman, a Physician of the eminence, was immediately sent for, and though Jived at a considerable distance from Sandover, yet fas patient received his first visit from him before the setting sun ; unwilling to alarm the feelings of the home at Brookfield Hall, by Dr. Skillman’s advice, the message designed for them, was deferred until the effect of a powerful medicine, which was immediately administered, had been first proved. ‘tb This seemed to have had some favorable effect, ‘the message was delayed for a few days longer, but fever soon afterwards recovered its strength, while from several incoherent expressions, it appeared he was no longer collected, through the vehemence of the e. It was now deemed necessary, that the umily at Brookfield Hall, should be informed of this ming event, without any further delay ; and Dr. illman wishing to visit an old patient, residing at leton, offered to be the messenger of these “sad tidings, as being the best qualified ‘to give the most t report of his patient's disease, and also to consult what further steps it might be naan, to ba to save if possible the life of this invaluable Minister. However the reader will scon dis- cover, that whatever ability the Doctor possessed in his professional character, he was but illinstructed in in that celestial science, which had made Mr. Merry- sogoodaman, The Doctor accordingly. took : a | aN 330 DIALOGUE XXXIX. the journey, and having been introduced to Mi and Mrs. Worthy, after the usual Beare l mre oh thus commenced. —l Dr. Skillman. [To Mr. Worthy.] $2, I am sor to be the messenger of such painful news respecting the health of your son-in-law, Mr. Merryman. Mrs. Wor. Dear Sir, you quite alarm us; I hop he is not dangerously ill. § Dr. Skillm. Why Madam, I am sorry 10. infor you, that after having twice visited one of his paris ioners in a putrid fever, he has caught the infection, Mr. Wor. But | hope Sir, the symptoms at p sent are not dangerous. rc Dr. Skillm. Not to flatter you Sir, I must con fess that some of the ayinpittehd have considerabl alarmed us. . Mrs. Wor. Ihave not a child of my own, that IT can love better than him, he is the best of husband and the best of men. O what my poor daughte must feel! especially, just after her lying in. Ho will she support it! we must go directly and see them. Dr. Skillm. 1 would not wish Madam that ye should determine upon that too hastily, Pam sorry say, that the fever has greatly injured his recollectio and the less he has to agitate his mind, the better can grapple with the disease. Z- Mrs. Wor. What Sir, is he so bad, as that | n0 of us can be permitted to seehim? | e Dr. Skilim. Certainly it is most advisable that his mind should be kept as still, and quiet as possible. haye frequently found it needful, to request M ‘ Merryman, to retire out of the room. He se her so deep hg Sitremed, that it greatly agitates | feelings, Mrs. Wor. Oh Sir! and is pice not great reason | to fear, lest my daughter should catch the infection? DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. ool Dr. Skillm. 1 have no apprehensions of that sort; for where rooms. are properly ventilated, and other precautions duly attended to, (which was not the case in the house he unhappily visited,) fevers are seldom infectious. But [ am sorry to say, he is a bad sub- ject for such a disease, for whoever he sees, it is sure ‘to set him roving about religion. Wor. Ah dear man ! I know that is uppermost in his mind at all times; but I hope that his talking warmly, and affectionately about religion, is the only proof of a temporary derangement, he is not quite so bad as you may suppose. _ Dr. Skillm. O Sir! but at times he speaks quite irratiovally on that subject. Though he is so ill, yet he is perpetually saying, that he must preach on Sun- day, while he fancies he is preaching some of his ex- tempore sermons, talking about his religion, and thinks he is saying his prayers to some of the people. Wor. But as these subjects were so much his delight when he was well, I should hope the thoughts of them can do him no harm, now he is ill. | Dr. Skillm. But he is so restless about serving his emo And when [I told him, that I thought I uld obtain for him the assistance of Canon Care- less, who seldom does any duty himself, he immedi- ately replied, that he would rather the Church were shut up, than it should be served by one, who is not achristian. What a proof of derangement, to sup- pose, that a Canon of one of our Cathedral Churches is not a Christian ! le Wor. Ab Sir! my dear son-in-law, (after he had felt the power that made him such an altered man, when compared to: what he was, even some time after he was in orders,) knows better than to suppose, that all are christians, because they merely bear the ehristian name. He well knows the character of the Canon, who is paid so plentifully from the income of his valuable living, besides his Canonry. While he does nothing, or next to nothing, for all that he re I | | | 832 DIALOGUE XXKIX ceives. Who that loves the world, would not but be a christian for such rewards as these. a . Dr. Skillm. But Sir,: though the Canon 1s not s correct, and diligent in his religion, as he should be, yet is it not universally admitted among men @ science, especially if they aim at being eminent that science, that no person whatsoever, can be per mitted to share the honors belonging to their . profes. sion, till such time, as that they have been examine respecting their knowledge in that profession? Js not the same knowledge required in the science Christian theology? Was not the Canon christen in that faith, and always bred up to ct? was he not sent to Oxford to be a teacher of that religion, as I was taught Pharmacy, Surgery, and other branel necessarily connected with the knowledge of pur profession? and has he not lately taken his Doe tor’s degree in his profession, which is looked up to be such a high honor among theologians ? be not of the christian religion, of what religion ¢ he be? Wor. Ah Sir! the science of Christian theology, as you call it, may be found in a thousand Universi: ties, and treasured up in ten thousand heads, but all this will not do as a substitute for the grace of Ge in the heart. I do not wonder that my dear, sick son-in-law, wishes in the midst of the reveries whic his fever may have created, for a better teacher than Canon Careless, for his beloved flock, on whom of late he has bestowed such an abundance of pains. — Dr. Skillm. 1 must confess Sir, if I did not attend to my profession a little more correctly, than the Canoi _ does to his, my patients would be ill satisfied with such neglect. ; ; Wor. While it rests with you, only to take care of the perishable body, but with him the immortal soul} What profane neglect ! fy Dr. Skillm, Why Sir, though T do not like to speak against the religion of my country, (as some religion bis cnt or ae DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 333 is necessary to keep the common people in awe,) yet 1 have often thought, that if the generality of the Clergy really believed in their own religion, they would practice it better than they do, and if they doubt it, can it be necessary for us to believe it? Wor. O Sir! I am sorry your opinion should be 80 loose about matters of such importance.* Dr. Skilm. But Sir, you quite mistake me; I have a high opinion of the Christian religion, as containing ithe purest system of morals, and consequently the best calculated for general good ; but still I have my doubts, whether the French philosophy be not true, yiz. that ‘‘ death is an eternal sleep.” I don’t know that we have any proof of the immortality of the soul, though I hope it may be so. | Wor. But really Sir, there is a something in us, so far beyond what brutes possess, that most people, and nations, however ignorant, have discovered a spark of immortality in themselves, that death could ever quench. _ Dr. Skillm. If T have my aounis avout chese things, they have never prompted me to be guilty of that which is immoral, and if I suppose that this life only is all that we have, I am naturally excited by such doubts, as a physician, to pay the greater attention te he cases of my patients. Wor. AhSir! I should like to put into your hands, some excellent volumes I have in my library, re- specting the evidences of Christianity, that the most obstinate infidel, could never confute; but the strongest evidence, is what it really accomplishes on oa human heart; and your patient at Sandover, has appily evidenced the proof of this, in a manner that ° has surprized all who know him. | Mrs. Wor. But O Sir! do let us wave the present | * The bad lives of the Clergy, is no more an argument » against Christianity, and what we all should be, than the bad tricks of a set of odious pettyfoggers, can be produced against e practice of common honesty, which is, or should be, the | ounden duty of us all. } 334 ; - DIALOGUE XxXIx. ” subject, and try if. possible, to pacify his min nd specting the supply of his Church. — . “4 Dr. Skillm. Madam, that is half the reason W n -came over myself, instead of allowing a messens to be sent; for I wish very much to have. hi tranquilized on that subject. ‘He talks much Mr. Lovegood. Ithink he says he is the Minis this parish, as though no one could preach a ge Christian sermon, but him. But as you know, tha live at a considerable distance, I have not heard much about that gentleman, only that ys 903 say : is rather given to enthusiasm. Wor. Ab Sir, no one is less given to shih than Mr. Lovegood, But as it is now so late in th week, it would be next to impossible to procut supply for his own Church, were he even to-attem it; and where he to shut it up, in order that he 1 serve another at a distance, he would be subjec! himself to considerable blame; especially as it is rather the duty of the churchwardens: of Sandovyer to seek for a supply under such circumstances. Dr. Skill. Really Sir, Iam not conversant aboni such laws. Butas Mr. Merryman dislikes the Car so much, where would be the harm if Sandover Chm was to be shut, until he recovers. Surely the people have been sufficiently instructed how to perform ] duty, without going to Church every Sunday. Asfor me, itis well known that Ihave no time for such sortof services, excepting now and then for example sake But I think if aman has but @ good heart, that! conceive to be a thousand times better, than going Church. Some may please their Creator in one and somein another. If I do my duty to my patien and occasionally give my advice to the poor grati I cannot conceive the Almighty will require from me, so that supposing there is a future state, hope my chance is not a bad one. Ys Mrs. Wor. O Sir! this is not the time to be tal about good hearts, and religious chances, the o" DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 3a5 aubation is, what can be done to ease the mind of my lear son-in-law ? | Wor. 1 know Mr. Lovegood will not be wanting to he. utmost of his power, to accomplish Mr. Mer- 's wishes ; and there is an old clergyman in the ieighbourhood, that may be able to give us some ievance : I will send directly to see. what can be _ Mrs. Wor. But, O my dear Mr. Worthy! with your leave, 1 must go over directly and see how he loes. I feel for my poor daughter, as much as for peesonzelaic widow she will be! . Skillm. Madam, if you should go, he has it in his power at present, to give you a rational er, and 1 fear your presence, would add “on ly to the agitation of his mind. “[To Mr. Worthy] I hope Sir, you will persuade Mrs. Wor- not to determine on the journey just at this time ; maps after a few.days. the disease, may take a ayorable turn: I, shall instruct the Apothecary, to . every. turn of‘ the fever, while Iam absent; md in point. of nursery, and attendance, he has too ouch of it already. | Mr. Wor.to Mrs. Worthy. I think my dear, the plan will be, to take the Doctor's advice, at least ous the present. Let our feelings give way to reason, md I will go directly to Mr. Lovegood, and settle ork him, how he can secure Mr. Meek, as a supply is Church, for to-morrow se "nnight; if he can ame over here on the Saturday night, and we have a morning service with us. I can send him back ime enough that he may serve his own Church in the ifternoon, and I think as we have always such a large songregation in the afternoon, on such an occasion, t might not be amiss, if I were to send to Mr. Good- nan, the dissenting minister, he is not above seven ailes from us. Mr. Loyegood always speaks of him, yery pious man ; and I am told he preaches very rood, and plain sermons : and he might occupy the um. Hf he should die, he will be ‘happy, but what. 336 : DIALOGUE XXXIX, Sunday-school room, as far as it will hold the peopl Iam sorry to say, that if he were to preach int ‘Church, it would be as bad as high treason. a Mrs. Wor. ¥ heard him once, and he gave us excellent sermon. But I fear he cannot be here «sufficient time, as the nearer road is bad, and if send the chaise for him, it “will be considera round. ' Z. Wor. Yes, but the people will not regard wai half an hour, if he will but engage to come. Mrs. Wor. Though I am so exceedingly anxic to go over to Sandover directly ; yet if I submit what you, and the Doctor deem best, it must be on this condition, that nothing may prevent my going with Mr. Lovegood next week, if this plan shot take place, and until then, I must insist upon it, a message may be sent every morning, that I m know how he does. ‘ Dr. Skillm. Though I confess I do not underst these different mixtures of religion ; and though seems to me best, that every man should keep to own way of thinking, yet that is no concern of mi Iam very glad Madam, that you have agreed postpone your visit, at least afew days longer, z Pll assure you, believing Mr. Merryman to be a good sort of a man in his way, I feel myself no little anxious for his recovery. I mean therefore give him another call, before I return home this e ing ; though somewhat out of my way: therefore wi your leave Sir, I will ring the bell, tha T may on the carriage immediately. "3 a “ : vey While the chaise was getting ready, octor partook of some refinshitientt at serie: epeat his visit to his patient, according to his promise. Mr. Worthy went next to Mr. Lovegood. It may easily be conjectured, how much Mr. Love was affected, at the alarming tidings from San DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 337 which so seriously threatened the life of his beloved jon in the Gospel. His mind was so greatly overwhelmed on the fol- lowing sabbath with apprehensions and fears, that he iad enough to do, to grapple with the overflowings’ of his affection for one, he so dearly loved. Though fhe rumour of Mr. Merryman’ s dangerous illness, was now become general: and though the looks of Mr. Lovegood, all the while he was reading the service, sonfirmed the same, yet the strength of his feelings were, in a measure, suppressed, until he got into the pulpit. It was from thence, that the embossed lears, which floated in his eyes, were seen to trickle jown his cheeks in large abundance, while with a ‘aultering voice, and extreme difficulty, he uttered hese appropriate words for his text, ‘‘ Lord, behold whom thou lovest is sick.” It shall be left to the eee imagination to paint, what words can ill ex- ress. “No wonder that the highly respectable family f Brookfield Hall, were heard to sob with silent ‘rief, and as for Farmer Littleworth, next to the leath of his beloved Henry, he seemed to dread the lissolution of this excellent man, while his son Henry, ¢ monument of the grace, and power of God, that he felt beyond most others is not to be described, nder the apprehension lest he should never see that elightful Minister of the word of life, any more ; rhose conduct at the commencement of life, in some ces, so much resembled his own. _ Others also of Mr. Lovegood’s congregation, might e brought forward, while thus their weeping Minister egan his sermon on this distressing event, but for ie present, I forbear. Alas! the same feelings are lll to be exercised, when disease had actually ac- pmplished its work ; exhibiting at the same time, an Ie the most painful among all those who loved him ; yet the most animating to such as believe in ane glory that shall be revealed,” and live under : Aaa of that blessedness, which *‘eye hath ot seen, which ear hath not heard, and which hath VOL. I. . 338 DIALOGUE XKXIX. .. never entered into the heart of man to conceive, At present I must forbear to narrate all Mr, Le good advanced on this subject; even a short hint) as much as the design of these dialogues will adm With the most solemn reverence, he vindicated t justice of God ; that we have forfeited all his mereie and merited all his wrath. That though the remo} of the godly, was a great calamity, yet, even undi the most awful displays of a bereayimg. Providen his restoring mercies, might be favorable to such humbled themselves before him. That thou gh 0 Lord loved the family of Lazarus, yet even they. v to have the common lot of affliction with others. And that if we should dare to murmur, with silent submission, we should correct our rebellious feelir and bring our minds to say with the Prophet, “w should a living man complain; a man for the pu ishment of his sins?” But when he came to his fi address, believing from the scriptures “ the effectual fervent prayer of the righteous man availeth much,’ and feeling how brightly that lovely light shone, which he was the instrument of kindling in that dark town of Sandover; he affectionately requested prayers of his congregation, the sluices of his affection were again so powerfully opened, that he could say no more. Oh what were then the. sensations of this delightful, country congregation! and from which these village dialogues took their rise ; when sucha man as Mr. Lovegood, gave sucha display of that sympathetic love, which unites us "all to him, 2 him, towards each other, for his tender mer sake. : But the Reader must be further informed, that ne faverable tidings having been sent from Sandover respecting a hope of Mr. Merryman’s recovery, ) Worthy, and Mr. Lovegood, went with sad and sor rowful hearts, according to the plan already settles while circumstances prevented their return, aceording to their first design. It was deemed necessary, that Mr. Love DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 339 should continue at Sandover, another sabbath. He applied to the venerable Dr. Orderly on that occasicn, |'who readily consented, that his curate, Mr. Sedate, should lend his aid, and though the goodness of the man, was admired by all, yet if he did not altogether express himself in a strain, so evangelical as Mr. Lovegood ; yet being far superior to many others, yhose preaching, and practice, are alike heathenish, his kind services, were gratefully, and thankfully re- ceived. The result of Mrs. Worthy’s and Mr. Love- ood’s visit, will be communicated immediately upon leir return. DIALOGUE XL. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED, me aS (eke BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. WORTHY, AND MR. LOVEGOOD, MBS. Worthy, and Mr. Lovegood, were absent iV about a fortnight, attending upon Mr. Merry- man at Sandover. Upon their return, after a few introductory salutations, the dialogue thus | menced. [= Mr. Wor. [to Mrs. Worthy.] O my dear! isc beloved son-in-law, yet alive? * Mrs. Wor. O yes, and I trust by the bless God, he will yet live, and continue to be a bless us all. ‘ ' Loveg. O Madam, we should not be too sar in our expectations—Though he has passed th dangerous crisis of the fever; yet the Doct his apprehensions, how far he may yet recover f the consequences of such an alarming attack. There are some symptoms, he does not like. 4 Wor. O let us hope, that a little good nurs may yet restore him to his friends, his family, and Church. But do let us hear all that has passed, ' you were at Sandover. ' Loveg. O Sir! what I have seen, what I ha heard, and what I have felt, is more than I can press. DEATH OF. MR. MERRYMAN. 841 ' Wor: But tell me, how has my dear daughter borne the shock. - _ Mrs. Wor. Her distress has been astonishing. Yet she has been astonishingly supported, but Mr. Lovegood had better tell you, all that has passed from the beginning. ' Loveg. On our first arrival, we found Mrs. Merry man in the greatest perplexity and distress, as you may well suppose ; and as for Mr. Merryman, instead of finding him better, he was evidently much worse. He lay almost in a perpetual stupor, what little he lsaid, was frequently incoherent, though always upon lthe best subject ; aud sometimes the things he said were most delightful. But by the particular request of Dr. Skillman, neither of us went to see .him that might, nor the next day. Nor would it have done jen any good, as the fever had rendered him re- markably deaf. ' * Wor. I should like to hear some of the goed things he said ? » Loveg. Yes Sir, and I should like: to tell you of them. But as it was a task, far beyond what Mrs. er could perform, I feel myself obliged to 'Mr. Robert Sprightly, for recording some things, which I shall endeavor to repeat. - Wor. Who is this Mr. Sprightly ? - Loveg. One of the most pleasant, and amiable youths, I ever met with in all my life. In Mr. Mer- ‘Tyman’s gay days, they were the gay, and giddy com- panions of each other. But when Mr. Merryman iiearn an altered character, this young man, was one of the first fruits of his ministry ; and this greatly ‘added to the surprize of the whole Town? when in ‘an infinitely better way, they became closely united, for better purposes. Like Jonathan and David, ‘their hearts were one, and they were one with each lother, in every design that was profitable, kind, and good. And immediately as Mr. Merryman was taken ill, he was almost perpetually with him ; seated at his bed side, night and day, he would wait upon him . 842 DIALOGUE XL. with the constant assiduity of anurse; in short, ifi had not been for him, I question, if Mrs. Merrym could have been supported, under the pressure of he fatigue. Wor. O what a kind youth! I shall ever lene for my daughter’s sake. d Loveg. O Sir! if ever you should know ese: ou would be delighted with him. Such a lively, pleasant and animated disposition, and withal, so truly de. voted to God.—He is quite the counterpart of Mr, Merryman. Wor. I hope I shall soon be acquainted with hin But what had he to say of the frame of Mr. Merry- man’s mind, when he was first taken ill? " Loveg. Upon the whole, from the very first he seemed to possess in a high degree, a resigned and submissive spirit. But it appeared, that the refle tion of what he had been, came home at times to his recollection, with considerable remorse, and grief ; lamenting exceedingly, how much he had to g. It was thought necessary that I should see on the Saturday morning, to set his mind at resi the supply of his Church, for on the Sunday $44 DIALOGUE XL.’ 7 before, it was entirely shut up, and the consternatiog of the people was inexpressible. ¥. Wor. [Tc Mrs. Worthy.] Did you go up stair with Mr. Lovegood ? q Mrs. Wor. Oh no ! I was advised not, and I stai below with our daughter, for whenever he percei her in the room, seeing her much affected, it grea increased his agitation: and again he had sad appr hensions lest she might catch the disease. It bein necessary, that he should be kept as quiet as possib Mr. Sprightly was the only person, that went into th room with me, and he being then in a sort of resth dose, I stood by his bed side some time, before he took any notice of me, and while I was waiting | he awoke, I heard. him repeat the: following line which I conld not have understood, if I had n known the hymn. r Thou say’st, thou wilt thy servants keep In perfect peace, whose minds shall be, Like new born babes, or helpless sheep, Completely staid dear Lord, on thee. oe ow calm their state, how truly blest, Who find in thee their promis’d rest ! Bid the tempestuous rage of sin, With all its wrathful fury die ; Let the Redeemer dwell within, And turn my sorrows into joy. i? In thy dear arms of love carest, ‘ Give me to find thy promis’d rest. After repeating these lines, he cried, I cannot sii I cannot sing, I wish I could. Just then he ope his eyes, looked at me with the kindest affection, fo a few seconds, and then said, What are you t my dear Mr. Lovegood ? that precious man who sé my soul from ruin! Who was it that carried me to Brookfield to see him? Being too much o come to answer him, Mr. Sprightly said, no dear Sir you are still at Sandover: Mr. Lovegood is cor qo DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 345 pyer*to see you, and to supply the Church for you o-morrow. He replied, dear man how kind! I shan’t be able to read prayers for him. Robert, lift me up nbed. Iam very thirsty. Nurse, bring me some parley water: he partook of it, and cried, “ let him hat is athirst come; yea, whosoever will, let them some and partake of the waters of life freely.” « My soul is athirst for God, yea, even for the living zod !” ‘Then he addressed himself to me, and said, Pell the people to-morrow, O tell themall, “how I long gver them in the bowels of Jesus Christ.” I hope there will not be one pew in the Church, that will not have some sinner to feel as I did, when you preached our visitation’sermon. I think I am clear from the lood of all of them, butif not, I beg their pardons nthousand times. What he said so completely over- e me, that I was obliged to retire to the window to vent my feelings. He then broke out into a profuse perspiration, when he asked where I was gone. I returned and helped to wipe off the rolling drops from his head and hair; and while we were perform- ing the office, he cried, “if every hair of my head, and 2yery drop that falls from my face, were to be turned nto a tongue ; and were I to live ten thousand years, they should all be employed in telling the salvation of Christ, and in singing of his redeeming love ;” and then added, I can neither praise him as I should, tor yet as I would. I am so weak, lay me down igain. This gave me an opportunity of saying, we mill retire, that you may be more composed. You nust think Sir, this was quite as much as I could ear. : | Wor But this seemed at least, Bike a short re- ival of his intellectual powers. | Loveg. Yes Sir, and what he said at such intervals, Birastonishingly delichtful. | Wor. How did you get through the Sunday ser- es’? =... With the greatest difficulty imaginable. What the people felt, what we all felt, is not to be 346 DIALOGUE XL. described. His fascinating, and affectionate beh: vior, highly enriched by the grace of God, has dered him one of the most beloved, and esteem characters, that can well be conceived ° Wor. What was your morning text? % Loveg. “ Behold I will come unto thee quickly, a will remove thy candlestick out ve its’ — unles thou repent.” Rev. ii. 5. 4 Wor. I fear on such a subjeat? and on suck occasion, your own feelings, and those of the congte- gation, must have been sharply exercised. ; Loveg. Indeed Sir they really were. It coul scarcely be called preaching, my mind was so over powered by the event, that I could not help my. fee ings, nor could the congregation command thei They all seemed to feel, that the loss of such a J nister, would prove the greatest they could. sustai but still [ thought it an excellent sign, that they kn how to appreciate the labors of such an invalual man. a Mrs. Wor. 1 was fearfalit ial, be so: and my daughter was so low, I thought it my duty tos | athome with her; and [ fear this — considera- bly to the people’: s alarm. a8 Wor. What was your afternoon wilijectte a Loveg. ‘Prepare to meet thy God.” But I dic all in my power, to avoid all personal reference to the present event; and only improved it in general terms, as well as I could; though after all, I fount had enough to do with the people’s feelings, as wel with my own. . | Wor. Though it was deemed necessary to keep Mr. Merryman as quiet as possible, yet I suppose you saw him occasionally, through the course of 1 week. | Loveg. O Sir! we thought it prudent, not to have any ringing, or chiming of the bells, before the ser vices, lest it should disturb him; and that filled him with surprize, lest 1 should not have performed my promise, respecting the duty at the Church: and — DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 347 was obliged to go up on the Sunday evening, to pacify is. mind on that subject. Wor.’ What was the result of that interview? _ Loveg. It was avery short one. I assured him I had performed both the services for him, and how much he was upon the hearts of the people, that he might still live to declare among them, that great lar er and grace which had been made known to him; then quoted that passage and said, blessed be God, “ I know what is the hope of his calling, («Our high calling of God in Christ Jesus,”) and what Othe riches of the glory of his inheritance in the ts; and what is the exceeding greatness of his jower to us-ward, who believe, according to the king of his mighty power :’* then he paused, and exclaimed, O what grace, what power, what a glo- : power, to reach a heart like mine! Thus far he appeared most blessedly recollected, and then he lclosed his eyes for a while, and began to ramble, but ina most pleasant style. He told me that he had ‘been sailing all the day, down a delightful river ; that there were most enchanting singings on each side of its banks: and that he came toa most pleasant place, ' where a beautiful great tree grew, and that Angels e singing upon every branch and twig of it, and added, O how grieved I was, when I lost sight f that tree, and when I could no longer hear the agings of those Angels, that so charmed my heart! immediately said, my dear friend, we'll retire, and perhaps you will hear the same Angels sing again. He immediately said, O no! you must not go yet: ‘you must pray before you go. We knelt down, of- fered up a short prayer, and immediately retired. However I could perceive by this interview, that he ald in a most blessed, and even enviable state of mind; i had _my fears, that he would not be long ‘on earth, as he was so fit for heaven. _ Wor. Surely after this, you could not deny your- * Eph. 1. 18,19. 348 DIALOGUE XL. ; . self the privilege of giving him, at least a short every day, while you continued at Sandover. = Loveg. Every morning after breakfast, I made him a short visit, and offered up a short prayer; w day after day, he appeared weaker, and weaker, an getting worse, and worse, filling us with inere ing apprehensions, that every day might be his Wor. Was his mind still kept im the same b state ? = © Loveg. Ithink more so. It was evident that while his body was growing weaker, his mind became m recollected, and calm. One morning, when Ir quested him not to exert himself, he whispered oi the following expression : ‘ In silent stillness of the mind, a My God, and there my heav’n I find. er And then. added, ‘‘ For I know whom I have belie and am persuaded he is able to keep that which] have committed unto him, against that day.* And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep my heart, and mind, through Christ Jesus."> On another morning after prayer, he said, takin up some expressions that I dropt, “ Blessed be God, I can enter into the holy of holies, by the blood Jesus; by that new and living way, which he hath consecrated for me.” Though [am ashamed of wha I have been, yet if I die, I can have “ boldness and access with confidence in that grace, in which stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Then he asked me the question, how is my most dear wife? oh how it grieved me, to see her stand by bed side, dropping tear after tear! If she knew h peaceable and happy [ am in the love of Chri she would rather rejoice with me, than grieve over me ; for “by believing in him, I can rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory,” and then said, And when I’m to die, < Receive me, I'll cry, Pi For Jesus hath lov’d me, I cannot say why. + * 2 Tim. i. 12 + Phil. iv. 7. DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 349 All these things, he spoke with extreme difficulty, being exceedingly weak, for the fever seemed prin- eipally to be on his chest. But on the Saturday “morning, the nurse alarmed us excessively, by inform- . ing us that he had altered for death. Mrs. Wor. Yes, and she was so abrupt in her in- | formation, that my poor daughter was immediately thrown into strong hysterics, and all the house into | the greatest consternation ; while the report soon got wind, and spread throughout the town ; and it seems that it was reported by some, that he actually was dead: while the universal agitation, and distress of the people, was inconceivable. _ _ Loveg. No wonder, that such as are so universally beloved, should be as universally lamented. _ Wor. What could you all do under such distressing ) circumstances ? Loveg. Sir, Mrs. Worthy continued with Mrs. ‘Merryman, while Mr. Sprightly, who was almost always with us, went up stairs, as we thought, to take our final leave of our dear departing friend, appa- ‘rently senseless, and nearly speechless ; only uttering some things to himself which we could not under- ‘stand; yet with a complacency of countenance, that greatly surprized us: but still supposing that every breath might be his last. _ Just then, Dr. Skillman came into the room, as we all thought, to pay his last visit to his dying patient. He immediately felt his pulse, and for a considerable time: and then, to our great surprize, pronounced that his was not the pulse of a dying man; and that the dangerous crisis of the fever was now actually passed, that he had seen others in the same state, who had recovered, and that the present stupor was rather to be considered as a sound sleep, which his nearly exhausted nature required; that he should therefore call ou another patient, and then return, for that he believed he would yet revive. The Doctor had not long left the room, before he opened his eves, and asked, ‘ How long have you VOL. II. 20 300 DIALOGUE XL. been here? I have slept most sweetly, and O how comforted I have been! how delighted with such singing, and how favoured with such sights as I neyer beheld before!” and then he added, u O the delights, the heav’nly joys, éj The glories of the place, Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams Of his o’erflowing grace. ; f He rested a short space, and then added a part of another hymn, from the pious Dr. Watts, resting awhile between each stanza. 4 There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; | Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. There everlasting spring abides, And never with’ring flow’rs, Though death, that narrow sea, divides This heav’nly land from ours. O could we make our doubts remove, i Those gloomy doubts that rise, . And see the Canaan that we love, 5 With unbeclouded eyes! y Could we but climb where Moses stood, ry And view the landscape o’er, i Not Jordan’s streams, nor death’s cold flow, Should fright us from the shore. & Thenhe added, “ Myrest has so wonderfully refresh- ed me, that I feel I want something that is nourishing, which I have never felt since I have heen ill before’ ‘You must think L could not continue long in th room, before [ communicated these pleasing tidings to Mrs. Merryman, and perhaps in this, (to Mrs. Worthy) as you well know Madam, in order to a a mind, agonizing with excessive grief, like the nurse before me, I rather too abruptly informed her, of this mexpected revival, after having been brought so near the expected hour of his dissolution. Her joy, as it might be supposed, was not less excessive, than her grief, which you know, I attempted to mo- derate to the best of my power, mentioning how dif- . DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 351 ficult it would still be, for the constitution to recover itself, after so deep a plunge. _ Wor. I suppose, after this revival, my daughter was permitted to visit him. Loveg. Under such circumstances, it would have been a hard task indeed, to have prevented one of such an affectionate mind, from visiting a husband, that appeared like one, just rising from the grave. But we requested her, to compose her mind to the utmost of her power, as tranquillity and rest, still appeared so absolutely necessary, even for the pre- servation of his life. The interview, as you may sippose, was a very affecting one, and when he began telling her, how happy he had been during his illness, and when she began to weep for joy, we took the liberty to interrupt them, requesting them to wait till after a few days, when he might be blessed with the recovery of a little of his strength, and be better able to tell of those good things, which had been such a consolation to his mind, under such a near approach to the grave. _ Mrs. Wor. 1 thought it providential, that Dr. Skillman repeated his visit just at that time, and was ushered into the room; for he, being a stranger to such sort of conversation, soon interrupted it; and again urged the need of rest, as being just then pe- culiarly desirable, and that Mr. Merryman need not trouble himself about religion then, as he hoped his life might yet be spared. _ Loveg. Yes Madam, and you remember when I a him, that Mr. Merryman’s composure of mind, arose from that calmness, which true religion was sure to inspire, his answer was, Well, well, that is all I wish to recommend ; let every one be happy in their ownway. I had designed to have continued here all aight, but as my patient is so much better, nothing isneeded, but good nursing, and strengthening medi- sines, which I shail order directly, and then return len After he had written another prescription, he eit us. I \ oo2 DIALOGUE XL. Wor. What a surprising effect must have been pro- duced upon the minds of the people, as soon as it be- came circulated through the 'Town ! Loveg. Yes, and the more so, as it was scarcely known that a change had taken place, as we were all | waiting until that afternoon, under the most fearful | apprehensions lest every breath should be his last. | Wor. The feelings of your mind must have heen very differently exercised, to what they were the Sunday before. Loveg. The contrast was astonishing. On the for mer sabbath, every heart was ready to burst with grief ;- but on the next, they were equally elated with the strongest sensations of joy. This joy, I endea vored to moderate to the best of my power; but that passage then struck me, as being so pei appropriate, that I could not refrain from taking it my text: “Ye were full of heaviness, because ye heard that he had been sick. For indeed he was: sick, nigh unto death, but God had mercy on hin and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow.’* And while I yee to improve the event that had so elated our hopes, ‘was not to be described what an extasy of joy was evidenced in every corner of the Church. M even that were enemies to divine - truth, ae friends to Mr. Merryman, and anxious for his recovery. Old Farmer Bitterman, a near relative of Mr. Spite- ful, alone was heard to say, he could not understand, why people should make such a fuss about this Parson Merryman, as though no other clergyman could be found as good as he. But others knew better how to appreciate so good a man, and to rejoice in the hopes given, that he might still be spared. Wor. But after the Sabbath, during the rest of your stay at Sandover, I hope he continued to mend, as rapidly as might be reasonably expected. Loveg. Quite so. He could sit up in his bed, take as much food as was desirable; and talk cheerfully, * Phil. ii. 26, 27. DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 353 and pleasantly to those who were surrounding him ; but at the same time, in such a style, like a man just come out of Heaven. But then he has a hacking cough, which prevents him from taking as much rest as he should, and complains of a tightness upon his chest, which stil] alarms us. Wor. i am afraid then, that all is not yet safe ? Loveg. 1 hope it may.—Though I rather fear, the Doctor thinks otherwise ; he advises him to light diet, and as soon as he can be removed, for a change of air. _ Mrs. Wor. Yes, and that matter is already set- _tled. As soon as he has recovered, sufficient strength _ for the journey I haye made him promise to come ) over to us; and this will be a great relief to my _daughter’s mind. She is afraid if he continue at _ Sandover, that the innumerable calls, and the affec- | tionate attention of the people, will be too much for him. And then she knows that from the ardent de- ' sire of his mind, to do all the good he can, he will _ begin his accustomed services, sooner than he should. ' He hopes in less than a fortnight, to make a begin- ‘ning, of at least, one short sermon on a Sunday, though at present, he is as weak as a child. | _ Loveg. I am afraid that Dr. Skillman’s prohibition will not be attended to, which is, not to begin any duty, at least fora month. But his great perplexity | is, to procure a proper person to supply his Church. He talks much of Mr. Brightman, who lost his curacy, by differing from his Rector about Baptismal rege- | neration, and because he could not preach conditional ) justification. _ Wor. He is certainly a very desirable man; but is | he not now engaged with Mr. Whimsey? _. Loveg. Yes, but I have lately had another letter ‘from him, complaining that he is as badly off, as he lee before. Mr. Whimsey is a strange, wild enthv- siast. _. Wor. Then does he want another situation? Loveg. He certainly does, Sir. : | Rok DIALOGUE XL. Wor. Then let him be written to immediately, that my dear Son-in-law’s mind, may be set atrest. Ifhe should so far recover, as to be able to do the whole of his duty, yet for a considerable while, he should have all the relaxation, and ease, his situation wi!\ a:'mit of, And besides, a supernumerary clergymas s* tis chas racter, and abilities, would be a suasuirrable acqui- sition in this neighbourhood ;-an7 «s my younger children want a little privaic «artica, he would be just the man for that office. ‘ = Thus matters were settled. Mr. Worthy wrote immediately to Mr. Brightman, to engage him for Sandover, and gave him a liberal offer of support: but he could not in honor, leave his curacy, so early as he wished, as Mr. Whimsey had two Churches to serve. The best substitute that could be obtained, was Mr, Anything, who would read any sermons that might be put into his hands, so that he passed for something, though in fact, he was nothing. But he could not be persuaded, to read more than one sermon on a Sun- day, as he said, he had not been accustomed to a duty. Mr. Merryman thus finding, that his Church was but ill supplied, was very unwilling to remove from his beloved flock ; at least, until the desired aid of Mr. Brightman could be obtained. But being under asort of promise to go to Brookfield Hall, he reluc- tantly obeyed, as soon as the recovery of his health would admit. He had not been there above three weeks, before he regained such a considerable de- gree of strength, so far as it had been exhausted by the fever, that his anxiety to return, was more than could be resisted ; especially as a letter from Mr, Brightman, informed the family, that he could not be released from his present engagement, under tbree months at the soonest. DEATH OF MR. MERRY MAN. 355 But still, while this dear man was most confident, that he should be able to resume his accustomed la- ‘bors, in a short space of time ; others had their doubts, lest this fever should bring on a pulmonary ae ten: and it is well known, that this com- aint is the most fatal, while the most flattering “one, that the human frame is subject to. As the people were ill contented with the supply during his absence ; so the reader may suppose the uncommon joy that universally prevailed on his return. But still he left Brookfield Hall, under the strictest engagements, not to begin with any farther service, excepting one short sermon on the Sunday morning; while Dr. Orderly, with his accustomed kindness, was willing that his curate Mr. Sedate, as far as he could possibly be spared, should assist him in reading the prayers. The reader may judge what the congregation felt, when Mr. Merryman, leaning upon the arms of Mr. ‘Sedate, accompanied with Mrs. Merryman, first entered the Church, like one recently risen from the dead; and when he got into the pulpit, though struck _with the amazing alteration which disease had made “upon a countenance, once of such vivacity, and health, yet how every hand and heart was lifted up, in solemn thankfulness to God, that he was yet spared ‘to serve them in the administration of the word of life. | His first text was very. appropriate, “‘ Whom the ‘Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every one ‘whom he receiveth.” The affectionate spirit in which ‘he addressed his hearers, words can scarcely de- “seribe ; while he expressed the feelings of his own ‘mind, during the chastisement, how most graciously he had been supported, hoping that this solemn ad- ‘monition, might be a warning to them all ; that his | zeal might be quickened : and that, on the restoration ‘of his strength, he might devote himself with greater | diligence than ever, for their eternal good. | The slow progress he made towards the restoration ; | 856 DIALOGUE XL. of his accustomed strength, throughout the followin week, increased the apprehensions of many; while the increasing spirituality of his mind, was the ad- miration of all. The short sermon he gave the people the Sunday afterwards, from the following words, fully evidenced the truth of this: ‘‘ My soul is e as a weaned child.” His heart so overflowed vie holy thankfulness, and submission to the will of God, in this sermon, that many thought it was scarcely pos- sible, that such a man could live long upon on who bad so much of heaven upon his heart. On the succeeding Sabbath, he was with difficulty dissuaded from preaching, as he had the Sacrament te administer. But he could not be contented in read- ing those most appropriate passages of scripture, without dropping some most appropriate, and afl tionate remarks. Though perhaps the formality Mr. Sedate, might have been a little exercised at this liberty which the curate of Dr. Orderly could scarcely admire, though good Mr. Merryman-himself, oftenti expressed an innocent wish for a little more liberty than the Church allows. x 3 Little did the people ‘of Sandover suppose, that the next sabbath was to be the last, on which the were to hear the voice of their beloved Minister any more. ‘There was not the least abatement, but ra- ther an increase of those symptoms of consumption, which alarmed many of his friends ; though as yet, _ seemed not to be alarmed himself. He thought hi self somewhat better, yet he was rather astonished h could not regain his strength, but in this he was quite resigned to the will of Ged. The text he took, and his solemn delivery of it, before he uttered a single syllable of his sermon, had a remarkable effeet. “Eye hath notseen; neither ear heard ; neither haye entered into the heart of man, the things which Gad hath prepared for them that love him.”* In this ser- mon however, one woald think, that all must haye had a presentiment that it must be his last. For with * 1 Cor. ii. 9. DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 357 what-rapture he described the glories of the eternal world: with what delight he quoted those werds, ‘‘ In | thy presence is the fulness of joy, and at thy right | hand there are pleasures for evermore!” How he | begged and entreated his hearers, as for his life, to | accept those unutterable joys, and to “ flee from the wrath to come;” for that he knew not how soon the | tongue that then addressed them, might be silenced in the grave ; and that the eye which now wept, while | he beheld them, should see them no more for ever. _ It seems his whole soul was so deeply engaged in the subject, that almost every word was followed with a | tear, while the hearts of all the people, were melted down, as the heart of one man: in short, he was so overcome by his own feelings, and with the heat oc- -¢asioned by such a crowded congregation, that ere he had proceeded fifteen minutes, he quite fainted away. What a scene it must have been to see him | thus carried out of the pulpit, from whence he had dis- tributed such an abundance of~good! It is supposed this astonishing young, spiritual Sampson slew more by these, his affectionate strokes, in this his last ad- dress, than ever he slew throughout all his life. _ It seems that on the Thursday following, after a severe fit of coughing, he burst a blood vessel ; and the discharge from his lungs was very considerable. This threw Mrs. Merryman into the greatest conster- nation, and grief ; while scarce a gleam of hope was left, that his invaluable life could now be preserved. A message was immediately dispatched to Brook- field Hall, to which place it was deemed absolutely necessary he should be removed, as soon ‘as circum- stances would admit. The afflicted Mrs. Merryman _ was obliged to part with her newborn babe, to another _ Female, in order that she might devote the utmost of her care, to a husband, she was so soon to lose. _ Mr. Worthy sent his carriage, that he might be re- moved with all possible tenderness and care; while Mr. Sprightly, with Mrs. Merryman, attended as his supporters on the road, which by its slow progress, 308 DIALOGUE EL. was accomplished without any further injury to his bleeding lungs. This last removal of Mr. Merryman, until he re- turned in a hearse, produced such a scene of w throughout Sandover, as Sandover never felt before; and had it not been for the prudent attention of Mr, Sprightly, half the town would have been at tie rec- tory, to bid him their last adieu. The grief that w: = evidenced, was not less universal, than. he was versally beloved. . Alas! what must the family of Brookfield Hall have felt; what Mr. Lovegood must have felt, when he attended to lift him out of the carriage ; and what all the Parish felt, when he entered that house, i which it was supposed he would breathe his last; is more than the writer of these Dialogues, with his briney eyes, has suflicient spirits to narrate. q The next Dialogue will finish the account of the trying, yet triumphant exit of this excellent man; but yet brightens with a pleasing issue, of this mos painiul event. ; gs ~- = DIALOGUE XLI. BETWEEN MR. WORTHY, MR. LOVEGOOD, MR. BRICHTMAN AND MR. SPRIGHTLY. THE DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN, UGH Mr. Merryman, as might be supposed, from the flattering nature of the consumption, revived fromthe depth of that languor, which from the loss of an abundance of blood, he had sustained ; yet still his vitals were consuming by the same disease, so that he now found he could attempt nothing further in his delightfai work. The necessary supply of his Church was his chief concern. At times he was obliged to put up with Mr. Anything, while Dr. Or- derly and his Curate, were as kind as circumstances would admit; Mr. Lovegood at the same time, watched every opportunity to give all the aid he could. Th the course of about ten weeks Mr. Brightman was at liberty, and he left Mr. Whimsey with no regret. - He first came to Brookfield Hall, before he went to Sandover, to visit his dying Rector. O that [had time to narrate half the profitable conversation, (es- pecially as far as Mr. Merryman could converse,) which passed between these good men! For it seems that Mr. Brightman ill knew how to express what an abundance of good was communicated to him there- by: and especially in seeing and conversing with such aman as Mr. Merryman, in his declining state; pos- sessing such calmness and serenity, such a peaceful resignation to the holy will of God; and withal, so blessed with such a lively sense of gratitude and praise i |} 360 DIALOGUE NLI. to him, by whose almighty grace he was saved from a state, once so depraved, but from which he was now so mercifully and powerfully redeemed. So bright an evidence of the vital influence of the Gospel, he nad never seen before: and he has since solemnlj declared, that out of all the volumes he had ever wall and from all the sermons he had ever heard, he never derived so much profit and benefit to his mind, Another very great advantage Mr. Brightman ob- tained as a minister, from this intercourse was, that it rendered him much more beneficial to the souls of men. From the natural strength of his mind, he was apt to be too discussional and metaphysical to be well understood by the generality of his hearers ; but he observed with surprize, how much more good had been done by Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Merryman, than by himself, by a much "plainer, and consequently, more scriptural style of address: before, he was wi and cold, but now, he became wise and warm; if what he delivered to the judgment, he applied to t heart with divine success. Before the Dialogue begins, it should be nota that Mr. Merryman continued full three months i Brookfield Hall, before his disease terminated in - dissolution. By his own desire, his remains we taken to Sandover, to be buried in the Chancel of own Church, requesting at the same time, that Mr. Lovegood would perform that last office, and i improve his death, by a sermon to the congregation. His re- mains were accordingly taken on the Saturday after his death, to Sandover, when the interment took place, and on the next day, the Funeral Sermon was preach- ed. It was therefore necessary that Mr. Brightman should serve for Mr. Lovegood, while he performed the painful task requested of him. The day afterwards, Mr. Lovegood returned. Having first visited his own family at the Vicarage, he next went to the Hall, to communicate what had passed. No wonder that the disconsolate widow, had vot sufficient strength and spirits, to hear the narration | DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 36i of these events. After she had retired out of the ‘room with her Mother, the following conversation thus commenced between the befove-mentioned Gentlemen with Mr. Sprightly, who in consequence , of the death of Mr. Merryman, came to transact | seme business at Brookfield Hall. =z Wor. O Sir! I almost tremble to ask what you must have felt in performing the last offices for my ‘dear departed Son-in-law. Loveg. In all my life time, I was never more af- fected and overcome. _ Bri. Ishould suppose so, for since my shortresidence at Sandover, I have discovered that there never was aman more beloved, or more deserving of it; for ever since it has pleased God to change his heart, what a character he has sustained! He was the father of | every dejected widow, and the parent of every orphan | child. The pains and care he took in the instruction of the children of the poor, especially in a religious ; point of view, was beyond all praise; even while he Teproved them, he constrained them to love him, forgi ving them tenderly, rewarding them freely, pro- i they would do better for the time to come. There was not a cause of distress that he would not with the greatest assiduity seek out and relieve. In short, a spirit of universal humanity seemed to occupy all the feelings of his heart. And asa mi- nister, I hope I have been taught of him, what I never ‘shall forget. It seemed almost impossible for any “person to be more devoted to the salvation and good. of souls. -His conduct was one perpetual sermon: even the very enemies of religion, who hated him as a prophet, are ready to garnish his sepulchre now he |is gone. Loveg. No wonder that a man like this was so honored, when he was taken to the grave. The hearse was met by crows, full two miles out of Town, | VOY, AY. Qi 862 DIALOGUE XLI. all dressed in mourning, singing as far as they could sing, solemn and penitential hymns, for having fors feited by their unprofitableness, so truly good a man; and when the corpse arrived at the Church, O whata scene ! ; Wor. I suppose the Church was much crowded at fue funeral. q Loveg. Beyond all description. And when 1 began reading those solemn sentences appointed for the funeral service, every eye seemed floating in tears, and many wept aloud: indeed my own feelings were so overceme, that I could scarcely utter one word after another ; and the people seeing me so much affected, were the more affected still. Wor. I can easily imagine what your feelings must have been, for I know how you loved him. @ Loveg. Yes Sir, 1 did love him, and who could he it; the sight of him, the very mention of his name, all times did me good. He lived for the best of put poses; and the surprising change that the grace ¢ God had accomplished upon his heart, has surprised thousands, and dethroned prejudice astonishingly. Wor. But how did you get through the service? Loveg. Indeed Sir, | could not get through th service: and the children who were appointed to sing a funeral hymn, as he was carried from beforet reading desk to his grave in the Chancel, could not finish their office, before they were so overcome, that many of them actually wept aloud, and I was so overpowered by the sight, that I could not speak, nor read another word; and when I requested Mr. dash, who was one of the pall bearers, to finish service, dear old man, he seemed to be more affee than myself, so that the lot fell upon Dr. Order (who attended as another of the pall bearers,) to finish the service; and he also found it a difficult task. Wor. I hope you will let us see a copy of th fiymn that was sung on’that occasion. Loveg. O Sir! you must not ask to see my poetry. ut ULLAL} =e = ] THE FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. Worthy.—But how did you get through the service? Lovegood.—Indeed, Sir, I could not get through the service: and the children who were appointed to sing a funeral hymn, as he was carried from before the reading desk to his grave in the Chancel, could not finish their office, before they were so overcome that many of them actually wept aloud, and I was so overpowered by the sight that I could not speak no~ read another word. Cie Sys C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. i t | DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. Mr. Sprightly. As far as the hymn was sung jaave a copy of it. Wor. Then I beg we may hear it. Mr. Sprightly repeats the Hymn. If ever on a mortal Bier Were dropt the tears of grief sincere ; Pity, dear Lord, th’ assembled throng, To whom such pangs of grief belong. How bright was that celestial flame, When shining through this mortal frame ! Darken’d by death, it shies no more; We own thy justice, aud adore. Neglectful of this gift from God, Our sinful deeds deserv’d the rod: Stull with submission would we say, ’Tis God that gives, and takes away. Yet hear the penitential prayer ; With thy forbearing grace appear : O lift our drooping § spirits up, And yet revive our dying hope! Let pity, drest in tender love, ie Look down in mercy from abeve ; . No hand but thine can e’er restore, The deepest loss we can deplore. Once our enraptur’d tongues could tell, The tidings he proclaim ‘dso well, Tidings through his atoning blood, That brought « our sinful souls to God. How many a sinner lives to praise The wonders of redeeming grace ; While his dear warning, weeping voice, Won them to seck eternal joys. Alas! those-lips for ever cease, To preach his grace, that seals your peace. Ye wounded souls o’erwhelm’d with grief, That seek the balm which brings relief, 36. al [Mr, Sprightly then adds.] And it was in attempt- that they could not sing any more. Wor. But I hope Sir, you will give as the rest of your hymn. Loveg. Sir, there were but two stanzas more, and 1 cannot recollect them. ing to sing the last stanza, that all were so affected 364 DIALOGUE XLI. Wor. Well Sir, IT hope you will let us see the whole of your hymn on another day. But how did you get through the faneral sermon on the Sunday ? Loveg. O Sir! the Church yard was crowded an hour before the Church doors were opened ; and I was actually obliged to get in at the window, behind the pulpit and reading desk, to perform my office, while I was under the necessity of hiring Mr. Any- thing, to read the prayers, as I found preaching the sermon would be quite enough for me. : Wor. What was your subject ? . Loveg. ‘Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth, for the faithful fail from among the children of men.”* And when I had to give the outlines of his character, as a truly godly man, I was frequently interrupted at the consideration, that so many excellencies were now completely lost to us, while the body which possessed them, was buried out of our sight; and while the remembrance of them, was all that was left for us to improve, that we might follow him, as he lowe Christ; and that it was an awful judgment, when such godly men were taken from us, as a deprivation of the greatest blessing we could enjoy. Wor. Did you say much cencerning the astonish ing change that had been wrought upon him ? a Loveg. Being myself much concerned in that event, my remarks on that subject were rather general, than particular. All the Parish who had seen him in both states, had a much stronger exemplification of the power of divine grace on the human heart, than any words of mine could have illustrated. But my principal aim was, (as far as I vould aim at any thing, through the overflowings of my affection,) excite the people to cry earnestly to the Lord, for his help, who alone could appear for them as a ‘con- gregation, under such a loss; and who had grace and power enough to create, and send forth a thousand | like him, whenever he might chuse. f * Psalm xii. ‘DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 3860 Wor. Isuppose you quoted much of what he said in his dymg moments, as we generally receive alj such expressions as being of the most solemn im- ortance, Bri. [To Mr. Lovegood.] As the duty at Brookfieid prevented my being with him during the last days of his life, I should be thankful if you would tell me wha those expressions were, especially such of them as you introduced into the funeral sermon. Wor. I hope you mentioned the interview we had with him, about three days before his death; when we had our apprehensions, that his dissolution was near at hand. Bri. O Sir! let me hear it. Loveg. Why Sir, after uttermg many delightfu things, though almost breathless, and ready to fair, away into the arms of death, I cannot express with what rapture he uttered the following lines ! The goodly land I see, With peace and plenty blest, The land of sacred liberty and endless rest: ly There milk and honey flow, ah There oil and wine abound ; And trees of life for ever grow With mercy crown’d. There dwells the Lord our King, The Lord our righteousness : Triumphant o’er the world and sin, The Prince of Peace, On Sions sacred heights, His kingdom still maintains ; And glerious with his saints in light For ever reigns. | While he thus lay panting for breath, he paused for a while, and then apparently in a greater rapture still, he further added, He by himselr hath sworn, I on his oath depend ; I shail on eagles wings upborne t ‘Yo heav’n ascend ; } 366 DIALOGUE XLI. { shall behold his face ; I shall his power adore ; And sing the wonders of his grace For evermore. Bri. What blessed lines to hang apon the lips a dying man, just entering into glory. Did you tell the congregation any thing further of what he said ? Loveg. After he had quoted the hymn I mentioned, he was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which produced a considerable degree of expectoration, and he seeing the discharge tinged with blood, repeated these lines, He shed a thousand drops for me; A thousand drops of richer blood : Here’s love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for man : But lo! what sudden joys we sce, Jesus the dead revives again. Blessed be God “ he is my resurrection and my life,’ and through him my soul has been quickeued, which was dead in trespasses and sins, and through his grace, I can trust him with my dying body also. “This corruption, shall soon put on an incorruption; and this mortal, shall soon put on immortality ; and then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, death is swallowed up in victory.” He could not repeat any more of that delightful passage ; but next added ; blessed be God, death is nothing to me: but O my dear wife and child, and flock! what will they do? He dropt a tear, and added, Well, well, I must leave them all with him who is the Father of the fa- therless, and the widow’s friend. And when I again told the people of this, his holy anxiety for the sal- , vation of their souls, they were again as much affected as myself. ‘Wor. No wonder at it, every day he seemed to he} increasing in usefulness among the people. Spri. But dear Sir, you have not mentioned that after that fit of coughing, he fell into a doze, and what he said when he awoke out of it. That seemed DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 367 to affect the people more than any thing you said before. Loveg. Such a heaven in apy man’s countenance, _ while he was taking his rest, I think I never beheld _ before, and in his doze the nurse came in, and that awoke him. He cried, “ O! who has pull’d me down? why did you pull me down! [ thought I was just entering into the presence Chamber of my Lord ; and _ that I was fall of singing ; while there were thousands _ of singing spirits with me, and O how delightful the _ music was! while we all sang “unto him that hath - loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood ; and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ‘ever and ever, Amen.” [ found the repetition of this was quite enough for us all, on this subject I could say no more, while it was too much for the people te ‘hearany more. Here I was obliged to pause, till I had sufficient spirits to tell the congregation, what ‘were the last words he uttered, whiie I was standing around his bed on the Sunday evening in which he died. “I feel Tam going, All is well. By faith, I can | Say as Stephen said, ‘“‘ Behold, 1 see the heavens | @pen, and the Scn of man standing on the right hand | of God.” ‘ I shall there see as I am seen, and know as 1 am known, and shall be for ever with the Lord.” After this, you know we did not stand by him more | than five minutes, before he turned up his eyes, and | without a sigh, or a groan, breathed his last. _. Bri. And after all, what a short sample was given | of the gracious things that dropt from his lips at dif- | ferent times! I trust [ never shall forget, with what | earnestness he pressed me, whenever I could come to visit him, to urge upon the people of Sandover, nothing but the divine realities of religion, by illus- trating the glories of that faith, which regenerates the heart, and directs us to live alone to the glory of God. | ) Loveg. But it appeared to me, that nothing could so completely display the excellency of his mind, be 368 DIALOGUE XLI yond what passed between him and his poor careless father, when he came to visit him in this house, about three weeks before his death. ‘Though he was much agitated at the thoughts of seeing him, yet his wise and affectionate, though respectful regard to a parent, while he addressed him with the greatest faithfulness, brought many a tear from the old man’s eyes: Bri, Were you with them all the time / Loveg. Yes, 1 and Mr. Worthy were both with them. _ I remember when he first saw his Son, till of late a fine personable young man, but now so reduced; the tears began starting from his eyes, while he said to him, O my Son! 1am sorry your religious zeal was not more tempered with prudence, and then you might not have caught that dreadful fever, which has brought you to this present state: especially when you had such pleasing prospects of life before you. His reply was, Yes dear Sir, but 1 was in the way of duty,—Duty called, and I obeyed ; and thatis my co solation. There was a time when J might haye caught my death, as many others have, in dissipation and riot; what a mercy it is, that I am not now a Martyr to my own folly, and sinful delights ! you know dear Sir, what I once was, even some time after I was in orders ; till God was pleased to change heart ;---I blush for shame, to think of it.---I was g to hear the old mau reply, I am sorry, though I fear you have been running into another extreme, that t did not set you a better example, then dropping a tear, said, My child, I hope you'll forgive me. Mr Merryman was now quite as much overcome as his Father, and cried, my Dear Father, I have prayed for your forgiveness a thousand times: and if you will allow me to be so bold to express my feelings asa dying man, I perpetually pray that God in merey, would look upon you, and my dear Motherand Sisters, and change your hearts. The weeping parent im-| mediately added, If you can pray for me, I must con- fess, that as yet, I never pray’d for myself. Bri. This must have been enough to upset you all. | DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 869 _ Loveg. Indeed Sir it was, and I took the opportu- nity to enforce the nature and necessity of a divine change, so strongly exemplified in the conduct of his dying Son. .And after this, | remember a hard fit of coughing, for a while interrupted the conversation; when Mr. Merryman again thus addressed his Father. “ Father, this cannot last long, I know I am soon to die; but still you need not grieve over me; for at times [ feel more happiness and joy, than words can ‘express; adding, I have ‘‘abope full of immortality,” ‘believing in Christ, who has changed my heart, and pardoned all my sins, I can “rejoice with joy un- ‘speakable and full of glory.” The fixed attention of ‘the father, enabled the sun to proceed, by assuring \him that there is a divine reality in religion, which with his dying lips, he humbly entreated him seriously to consider, as the greatest blessing God can give, ‘or the soul of man can possibly enjoy; and as the only cordial that can support the soul, when sinking ‘into the arms of death; begging with many tears, ‘that he would recommend the same to his dear Mother ‘and Sisters, while he made it his last request to them, ' te seek for the salvation of their souls. Bri. The Father must have been considerably af- ‘fected by such an exhortation. | Loveg. Very much indeed. But what he next added 'was still more so. It is impossible to tell how he ‘uttered his grief respecting his disconsolate flock, ‘which he was about to leave, and how he entreated his Father, that if possible, he would prevail with his Brother, not to give the living away toa man who was as bad as he himself once was, before he was better taught. That he had heard that a Mr. Tugwell, was already designed as his successor ; and that the conse- quence would be most distressing. That though he _ was now surprized how the few people who attended the Church before he knew better, could be so igno- rant as to come there, when his example was so bad, _and his conversation so lightand frothy, but that now, it "was quite otherwise; for thatif another Minister should 370 DIALOGUE XLI. come of the same stamp as he once was, they would leave the Church directly and provide for themselyes another place of worship, that they might have a Minister of their own chusing, who hold forth to them the word of life, and tutor them in the fear of God. Wor. And how we were all affected when he added, “Though I have reason to bless the kind providence of God, that has led me into this fa whereby the best of wives has been put nt bosom, and addressing himself to me, while no son your own dear Sir, could have been treated with affection, than that, which as an adopted son, f ever received from you, yet this my dear wife 1 cap with submission render back again into her areal hands ; while I am satisfied, that our dear little inf after my departure, will ever be considered as one of your own, concerning all these cpa sacrifices I think [ can say, “ thy will be done.”. But O dear flock ! I love them as my own soul, I cannot press how “I yearn over them all, in the bowels Jesus Christ ;’ and how [ am pain’d at the thou that they should be given over to one, who has spiritual concern fer their eternal good. 4 Loveg. Iwas glad to see his Father so much im ti at his son’s entreaties, which drew from him strongest promises, and engagements, that if he co not prevail with his uncle to refuse the living to friend and distant relation Mr. Tugwell ; yet as he had other preferments, he would try if it could beso contri ed, that a Curate might be settled an them, who would bea future blessing to the disc late congregation. 4 Spri. Yes Sir, and I can tell you something further, one of the last offices I ever performed for our dear departed friend was, to write a letter to his Uncle for him, (he being too weak to do any thing buat sign it,) urging the same request in the most affectionate terms. Dear man, how he wept and prayed all the time I wrote it, and since then, several of us in the Town have drawn up a respectful petition, requesting the | DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 3/1 | same, mentioning you Sir, [To Mr. Brightman] as | the object of our choice, and that we shall not re- | gard any extra expence, provided we can but see you | comfortably settled among us. Bri. Can there be a probability of that sort? There isnot a man more careless and unconcerned about ‘religious matters than he is said to be. I have been turned out of two curacies already, and I shall soon be dismissed from the third; perhaps for decency ‘sake, I may be permitted to stop a Sunday or two, and then be discharged. __Loveg. Ah Sir! you have but the common lot ot all faithful Curates, who have ungodly Rectors, but from the carelessness and indifference of old Mr, ‘Merryman, and his pot companion Mr. Tugwell; I draw a contrary conclusion ; they will not care who "serves the Church, provided they can be left at their ease, and Mr. Tugwell can enjoy the tythes. Wor. And we sha’nt mind paying his Curate for him, provided he will keep at a distance. _ Bri. But wont Squire Madcap do all he can to prevent it ? Spri. He is so wicked, wild, and foolish, that no “one minds him. There is therefore very little harm ‘to be dreaded from that quarter. But if he, or any “one else of the same stamp should be sent among us, | we must provide for ourselves. | Wor. I shall help you immediately to see to that, by beginning with a donation of five hundred pounds, and shall give an annual subscription towards the sup- ‘port of the place, as soon as it is established, and ‘there is no law against reading the liturgy of the established Church, which we all admire. Spri. O Sir! a ‘thousand thanks for your encou- |Yaging offer. I hope we shall all be eager to lend an ‘helping hand, surely the many prayers our dear de- ‘parted Minister offered up, that the gospel might be continued among us will, somehow be answered | for our good. 372 DIALOGUE XLI. Loveg. 1 am sorry I shall be debarred from taking an active part in this work, if the gospel is to be turned out of the Church. But I really have no pa- tience with the absurdity of those, who tell us, we should be contented without the gospel in the pulpit, as we are sure to have it in the reading desk, while the grand efficient means, which God is pleased to bless, is the preaching of the word. Somethi therefore must be done, and the Lord give wisdom and zeal that it may be properly, and wisely done, _ _ Just then the disconsolate widow and Mrs. Worthy _ re-entered the room, this naturally gave another turn to the conversation, but in a few days the reader may expect a joyful termination of this melancholy event, i ay DIALOGUE XLII. |THE HAPPY TERMIMATION OF THE MELANCHOLY EVENT OF THE DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN, | BETWEEN MR. LOVEGOOD, MR. BRIGHTMAN, MR, SPRIGHTLY, AND THE FAMILY OF BROOKFIELD- HALL. M R. Brightman and Mr. Sprightly having come over to Brookfield, principally to assist in the settlement of Mrs. Merryman’s affairs, were under the necessity of continuing at Brookfield Hall, dill near the conclusion of the week. While the family were assembled at the tea-table on the Thursday evening following, a purpose mes- | senger came from Sandover, with a letter directed to ‘The Rey. John Brightman. The letter being put into his hands, he read it.—Immediately the agitation of his mind became so very considerable, that it eyen fetched a tear of surprise from his eyes: inso- much that Mr. Lovegood asked the question : Loveg. Dear Sir, What is the matter? I hope there is no more bad news from Sandover. Bri. O no Sir! but the contents of the letter have quite overcome me. Contraryto all my expectations 1 am actually appointed Curate of Sandover. Wor. You don’t say so! Bri. Yes Sir, I am. The letter is from Mr Tugwell himself. He tells me the presentation was ‘sent to him yesterday: the patron at the same time Tequesting that I might be nominated to the curacy, by the dying request of his Nephew, and especially as Voir 2K 374 DIALOGUE XLII. he found it was almost the universal wish of the Pa- rishioners that he should acquiesce. : Mrs. Wor. O how rejoiced our dear Son-in law would have been, if he could but have known of this event. Bri. Perhaps he might dear Madam, but I find by the letter I shall be wanted at Sandover almost directly ; for my new Rector, as I must now call hi means to go over to the Bishop for induction, carla the next week; and begs I would attend with him, that I may be licensed to the curacy at the same time, Wor. Well Sir, we shall be very happy to part with you upon that score. But your new Reetfor seems to be in a great hurry in the transaction of this affair. Bri. O Sir! he explains himself further in letter, That as there is a strong propensity in his ct , stitution to gout, he means still to reside at his othe living, though a small one, as it is full fifty mi nearer Bath, than Sandover is, and that his pa means to take him to that city as speedily as possible, before the winter sets in ; and therefore he wants me to attend upon that duty almost immediately. { Loveg. 6 what delightful tidings this’ will ef the poor disconsolate people at Sandover! they will be as much overcome with joy, as they have been with grief. Bri. Yes, and my Rector writes with so much good nature about the matter; he seems to be as well pleased with our plan, as we can be with his; for he tells me as he has some incumbrances that his patron wishes him to discharge, (probably a sum of money that he might have borrowed from him,) he is sorry lie can advance me no more than sixty pounds a year, and the surplice fees, which he hopes may do: while I continue a single man. Wor. We shan’t mind what he allows you, pro- vided he will allow you the uninterrupted use of the Church, that you may doall the good you can in it, Spri. [to Mr. Brightman.] I am sure dear Sir, the DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 875 people of Sandover, who loved Mr. Merryman and [his ministry, will never suffer you to want: nor can |-we allow the kind liberality of Mr. Worthy, to be |imposed-upon, to keep our Minister for us, while we | alone are interested in the benefit. | Wor. Yes, but a Minister, if he be a good one, | (mo matter for the bad ones,) should not merely have }enough to keep him from starving upon such a mi- /serable pittance as sixty pounds a year. He should ‘have something in his pocket to give to the poor: /if my purse is not wanted in one way, it will in ano- ther. | Spri. As he means to be a non-resident, I suppose | he designs to let you live in the Rectory house. | Bri. lt would be strange living in that house on / suchan income : though I bless God, I have besides a little of my own, arising from my college fellowship, 'solong as 1 oontinue a Bachelor.* But as to the Rectory house, he tells me he means tolet it: and he | is in hopes that the rent of the house, will answer to | the payment of the salary, as he hears it is a good one. [To Mrs. Merryman,] But he says he has no | design to hurry you, dear Madan, out of the house, | till it is perfectly convenient to yourself. | Mrs. Mer. Ah me! Mr. Tugwell will meet with . very little interruption from me, on that score. As soon as ever the effects can be disposed of, I shall be happy to have my mind relieved from such reflec- ‘tions as too frequently occur, under such-a loss. Were I ever to enter into the doors of that house again, it would revive feelings, too painful to be sus- "tained. _ (Mrs. Merrvman’s eyes are embossed with tears. : She retires out of the room, Mrs. Worthy follows her.) _ Mr. Wor. Alas my poor daughter! I know not when she will recover this heavy stroke. I should have supposed that if any thing would have revived *T must not tell what college Mr. Brightman came from, ~ or at which of the universities he was educated. 376 DIALOGUE XLII. her spirits, the news of your appointment to the cu racy, would at least have created one cheerful look. Bri. O Sir! the Joss is irreparable: I cannot won- der at all she feels. But the appointment to be the successor to such a man, makes me tremble. 15 Loveg. Yes Sir, and if we all trembled more at the vast importance of the work in which we are engaged, it would be just so much the better for our hearers. ‘ ‘te Bri. Sir, it seems impossible for me, if I imitate, that I can ever equal that lively and lovely zeal, he adopted in all he did. ‘Though I trust I shall aim at doing my best, yet what a comparative distance will be felt between him and me! My style of preaching, I now find, has been too discussional, cold, an phlegmatic. His was always animated, affectionate and warm. My preaching hitherto, though I tr consistent with divine truth, has been like the light of the moon, clear, yet cold. His like that of thes at times brilliant, and even if intervening clouds 7 tercepted its brighter rays, yet still the warmth was felt, and its fertilizing effects were evident. 4 Loveg. But dear Sir, you do not want either era- dition or mind. The improvement of these Mr. Mer ryman sadly neglected in his thoughtless days; but afterwards the change in every point of view, was fo the astonishment of all. Let your superior human acquirements then, be put upon the altar of a warm and affectionate heart, fully devoted to God ; and then if the people do not forget Mr. Merryman, yet they will soon find that he is no longer wanted as a mi- nister, if God should teach and animate a Brightman, as he taught him. Bri. Ah Sir! what are all human abilities and acquirements, when compared to such spirituality and devotedness to God, as he possessed ! Loveg. Lam glad you think so. Though all other qualifications without holy zeal to set them at work for the promotion of the glory of God, can be of no avail; still itis acknowledged, that wisdom and spi- DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 377 ritual understanding, are at all times necessary to guide this useful machine aright. _ Bri. AhSir! there was my mistake. I have been tieating religion more like a ‘dry, speculative science, than as a divine reality between God and the soul : while the strange enthusiastic reveries of Mr. Whimsy and his friends, might have driven me further into the eontrary extreme, if the Lord, in his kind providence, had not directed me into these parts. _ Loveg. Well Sir, the scriptural style of preaching, we shall always find to be the best; for none of the first Apostles had the ability to dress their preaching in the forced, and false style of human eloquence : and when the Apostle Paul was sent forth “ as one born out of due time,” we know what he says of his own style of preaching: “‘ And I brethren, when I came unto you, came not with excellency of speech and of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God. Forl determined to know nothing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified ; ; and I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling; aad mv speech and my preaching was not with the enticing words of man’s wisdom, bati in the demon- stration of the Spirit, and of power.” (And that for this astonishingly wise reason;) “lest your faith should stand i in the wisdom of man, and not in the power of | Spri. What an astonishing sermon Mr. Merryman preached from the last clause of those words, about a month before he was taken ill. | Loveg. I daresay he did. ‘ The demonstration of the spirit and power of God upon the soul,” was the grand subject that seemed at all times to occupy his mind, and warm his heart. Spri. Yes, and almost every sermon he preached, hid was sure te bring to bear upon that essential point, and at all times with so much tender and affectionate zeal for our eternal good. No wonder his ministry such a klessing among us—And that dear man, we are now to hear no more for ever! { i 378 DIALOGUE XLII. Loveg. [To Mr. Sprightly.] But have you not great reason to hope, to see a resurrection of him in the person of Mr. Brightman ! Bri. Alas Sir! how faint a resemblance of what he was, I fear will be found in me! As for the sa- crifice of my character as it may respect any literary acquirements, that I can easily make. 1 knowl will be my duty to speak, or rather converse from a pulpit, in such a plain, and easy style, as every unlet tered person may understand; yet to get into the spirit and life of such a style of preaching, as rem dered Mr. Merryman so useful as a Minister, though I shall aim at it, yet I fear a material difference w still be felt. -— Wor. Why Mr. Lovegood has been as much fo reading and thinking as yourself, yet he knuws hos to leave it all aside, when he gets into the pulpit, There he can dress his good sense, and scriptural die vinity in such plain, but powerful language, as not only charms a few of us who may have been favore with education, but preaches equally to the delight and edification of all the poor peasants, who are charmed with sermons they can so easily compre hend. ot Loveg. Dear Sir, if I am to be the subject of con- versation, do let _us wave it for the present, that we may settle with Mr. Brightman concerning his returmm to Sandover. 4 Bri. I wish if 1 could, to go off early ee morning. Spri. Sir, if you do, it will be impossible for mi to attend you, for you know the broker that was fo have attended this day with the appraisement of Mrs. Merryman’s goods, is not to come till to-morrow morning, and we shall have enough to do, to determine what is to be sold, and what is to be kept; so that we shall not be able to return till the Saturday afternoon. Just then Mr. Considerate eame in, on behalf of a poor man who labored in Reetor Dolittle’s garden. His crime was, that he occasionally stole away to DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 379 Brookfield Church ona Sunday ; so that the poor man, his wife, and family, must have been sent to the Pa- rish, had not the benevolent Mr. Worthy given him employ. But it seems the Rector had become more furious than ever, having lately taken up the old Po- pish doctrine of Baptismal regeneration, with a con- siderable degree of High-Church zeal. It was late on the Saturday evening before Mr. Sprightly and Mr. Brightman could return to Sand- over. The deserted Rectory being now no longer a proper abode for Mr. Brightman, he took up his residence at Mr. Sprightly’s habitation, so that he was scarcely known to be in the Town till he was seen walking to the Church on the Sunday morning. | Though it was universally known that a petition had been sent to the Patron onbehalf of Mr. Brightman, yet little or nothing of what had passed between Mr. I Tugwell and Mr. Brightman could haye transpired. As far as rumor prevailed, it seems it was of an unfavorable nature. Many knowing the character of Mr. Merryman’s uncle, concluded it was scarcely pos- sible to expect any favorable report from such a quarter ; while another report more generally pre- vailed, that sunk their spirits exceedingly : viz. That Mr. Madcap had actually succeeded with Mr. Merry- man, to give his nephew’sliving away toa wild andrakish brother of his, who unfortunately was put into holy orders ; and that immediately upon his return from Newmarket races, he was to be inducted into the living : upon which all the people were determined to run away from the Church, as fast as ever they for- merly collected together to fill it. But this it seems was only a wanton report, though as matters go, a very probable one, which was raised by one, who wished to make the cause of the people’s grief, the subject of his sportive mirth. In short, the agitation of the minds of all, was not to be ‘expressed : no wonder that one and ano- ther of the congregation, pressed in upon Mr. Bright- man as he was advancing towards the Church, with 380 DIALOGUE XLII, their anxious queries. ‘Sir, I fear it will be one of | the last Sundays we shall see you, or anyone like you in our Church.” Anotheradded, where must we all go when young Parson Madcap is sent among us. A third cried, Oh Sir! for the Lord’s sake, if you are_ turned out of the Church, den’tleave us. As you” loved Mr. Merryman, so love us his poor disconsolate flock. We'll build a place for you, we'll do every — thing we can to support you, and make you happy, if — you will but feed us with the word of life as Mr. Mer- 4 ryman did. Being much overcome, to this he could but just add, Do’nt be downcast, all is well, the Lord will be better to you, than all your fears. Even this — hint, soon created a general ramor among the people, — which gave a gleam of hope to some, while sad dis ponding fears among others, more generally prevailed. — Thas he entered the Church, and ‘attempted to begin the service, but seeing the pulpit and reading — desk hung in black, and all the-congregation dressed — in mourning, together with the sad and sorrowful looks of sach a. numerous assembly ; hehad enough to do with the feelings of his mind, before he could — begin the service. But when he was reading the psalms for the day, which happened tobe very appro- — priate, it being the twenty seventh day of the month his countenance began to brighten renarkably, and the emphasis with which he read different passages, surprised the people not a little; for thus he began. “ When I was in trouble, 1 called upon the Lord, — and he heard me.” Then again, when those verses — were read out of the 122d psalm. *“ Ovpray for the — peace of Jerusalem! they shall prosper that love thee. — Peace be within thy walls, and plenteousness vital r thy palaces ; for my brethren and companions sakes, I will wish thee prosperity,” the very looks of Mr. Brightman almost indicated the suitability of the — words, as being an applicable prayer for the restored mercy they were still toenjoy. But when Mr. Bright- man continued reading the first of the psalms ap- pointed for the evening service, whether through DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 38k ‘absence or design I cannot say, yet from the pleasant ‘emotions that appeared to possess his mind ; at once all the congregation seemed to feel themselves ele- vated with a hope, that they might yet sing as Sion did, when these appropriate words were read. *‘ When the Lord tured again the captivity of Sion, then -were we like to them that dream; then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with joy. ‘Then said they among the Heathen, the Lord has done great things for them, Yea, the Lord hath done great things for us already, whereof we rejoice.” The hopes of the people thas greatly revived, were soon afterwards completely conformed, by the giving out of an appropriate hymn, before Mr. Brightman ‘began his first sermon, as Curate of the Parish. This hymn together with another designed for the conclu- sion of the service ; unknown to Mr. Brightman, was ‘put into Mr. Sprightly’s care, that it might be handed to the clerk. Though Mr. Lovegood was a better ‘man, than he was a poet; still I conceive it will bea ‘gratification to the reader, if a copy of these hymns, ‘be given as each comes in its place. The clerk be- ing rather of the countrified sort, hus gave it out. _“* Let us sing to the praise and glory of God, a thanksgiving hymn, for sending Mr. Brightman, to be the Minister of this Parish, in the room of Mr. Merryman deceased.” | And how delighted and surprised the people were at the sound of a thanksgiving hymn, ts not very easily iv be expressed ! ‘ Though the first part of the they could scarcely sing for grief, yet the lat- part of-it they all could sing in a more cheerful + ‘ Submissive at thy throne O God, We own the justice of thy rod ; "Tis thine to send thy judgments down, "Tis ours to say thy will be done. Vanish’d from our enraptur’d sight, Late shone a star divinely bright ; Guiding our footsteps o’er the read, That leads te happiness and God. 482 DIALOGUE XLII. Ten thousand stars at thy command, Shall shine upheld in thy right hand ; Thy sov’reign pow’r creates the ray, That turns our darkness into day. Display this gracious pow’r divine ; Bid Lord a brighter light still shine: t And make thy servant now proclaim, With light and life the Savior’s name. } a With thankful hearts we bless the Lord, # ~Who with his wonted grace hath heard His humble suppliants tell their grief, And send them down such quick relief. Baptize thy servant from above, With that celestial flame of love, Then ev'ry heart shall feel the pow’r, And ev'ry tongue thy grace adore. > | O may this glorious grace be giv’n, ! That leads to holiness and heav’n : a Then tribes of new-born souls shall sing, a The glories of our cenqu’ring King, q 4 ‘Though the hymn at once created a universal extaey of joy ; yet, O what the people further felt when Brightman, in a most appropriate prayer before theser- _ mon, addressed the Majesty of Heaven, that he would _ bless him with all these needed graces of his most Holy Spirit: soasthat hemight accomplish the charge anun expected Providencehad involved uponhim, ‘Thatthe love of God would fill him with a loye to those soul: which were now become the objects of his peculiar attention and care; and that such zeal as he had never felt before, might animate him to peculiar ex- ertions for their eternal good. Nor were the people less struck at the appropriate text he chose on this occasion, “ I determined to know nothing among — you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified.” The whole of that passage having been made the subject of recent conversation between him and Mr. Love- good, with the greatest solemnity he informed the people, that it was his full determination, not to ad- dress them ‘‘ with the enticing words of man’s wis- dom: but that with simplicity, and Godly sincerity,” DEATH AND FUNERAL OF MR. MERRYMAN. 382 it was his entire aim, to have his conversation among them, and to dedicate himself to their good with his whole heart, and with his whole soul. To this he add- ed, that as he was sure he was sent in answer to their -many prayers ; and especially to the prayers and exertions of their late Minister, so he requested he ‘might have an interest in their fervent prayers, that he ‘might be upheld in the sacred-work ; especially as he felt himself so unequal to fili the station of one, _who was so eminently useful, and so highly devoted to God. In short, it appeared among them all, as though Mr. Merryman was actually tisen from the grave. So that it would be difficult to determine whether the excessive grief of the people were called _to sustain on the previous Sunday, while they were _ paying their last token of respect to the memory of | Mr. Merryman: or the extacy ‘of joy, occasioned by ' this unexpected event, had the more powerful effect on the people’s minds. At the conclusion of the sermon, Mr. Sprightly ‘himself, was seen in the singing gallery, and heard | giving out the following hymn; which was sung with i astonishing extacy and “delight. } Commission’d from the Lord of hosts, Servant of God arise and shine ; : Arise and gird thine armor on, I And provethe strength of Jesus thine. : Go dare the dreadful powers of sin ; ; From conq’ring and from conquer go: I Strike with the Spirit’ 's mighty sword, And bring the vanquish’d monster low. Strong in the strength of God alone, Let Satan the first sinner feel, The energy of truth divine, ' The vengeance of thy holy zeal. As darkness flies before the sun, And seeks a region where to dwell, Remote from earth in worlds unknown, Hard by the dismal gloom of Hell. So learn to make delusion fly, And with the beams of Gospel light ee Ye 984 DIALOGUE XLLI. Chase down the lorty pride of man TA Down to the shades of endless night. i, Nor let thy fears presume to quell y The flame that kindles on thy heart, Strength more than equal to thy day, The great Jehovah shall impart. In weakness shall thy strength be found, While unbelief shall shrink away, As sinners barst the bands of death, And rise to bless the Gospel day. ’ Thus may thy faithful servant prove The Champion of the Lord most high, Thus urge the ling’ring combat on, The battle win, and gain the sky. After the service was over, I will leave the reader to conjecture the joyful salutations from every quar- ter, that crowded in upon Mr, Brightman, when M Sprightly and he returned together from the Chureh blessing and praising God, for such an unexpeete mercy, after such a calamitous eyent. The unhapp gloom which sat upon every countenance, seemed 1 be banished, they now perceived that while the yoie of prayer, most fervently offered up from house house for the preservation of the invaluable life ¢ Mr. Merryman, was not to be answered, yet tl the Lord had in reserve for them, the continuatic of the same mercy, though through another channel. They could now bless God, that while they had beet benefited by the bright example which had been set before them, in the life and death of Mr. Merryman, the light of divine truth was sfill vouchsafed for their future good. Long live Mr. Tugwell, if the unin terrupted blessing of such a Minister is to be con- tinued to the people of Sandover thereby, and QO that every mitred head, might feel the wisdom of | filling our British Sion, with such Ministers as are thus ‘‘ made wise to win souls to Christ ;” allowin them at the same time a little more elbow-room, thi they may exert their wisdom and zeal a little more extendedly, in their delightful work. DIALOGUE XLIITI. TWEEN MR. BRIGHTMAN, MR. WHIMSEY, MR. SLAPDASH, AND MR. SPRIGHTLY. ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. IE settlement of Mr. Brightman among the inhabitants of Sandover, had now fully taken face. He became an inmate at Mr. Sprightly’s, here he had his board and lodging, and where he puld at the same time, hear much of the pleasing lid profitable conduct of the late Mr. Merryman, to hich he was inquisitively attentive ; being fully de- ‘mined, for the good of the people, to follow him, s he followed Christ. _Itseems however that, very soon afterwards, he met ith a little interruption, by an unexpected visit from slate Rector Mr. Whimsey, who called upon him, ahis return home from a Town of considerable mag- itude in the north, where, as he expressed himself, a reat work of Godhad been carrying on, though many of iem, since then, had fallen from grace. I question if fr. Brightman would have accepted this offer, though e could scarcely have done otherwise, out of civility ut for the following circumstances. __ ‘He expected a visit, just at the same time, from ood old Mr. Slapdash ; whose constitutional warmth, ras still regulated by a sound judgment, and excellent isposition ;, and who perhaps was better calculated wr such a controversy, as next took place, than the lore thoughtful, and judicious Mr. Lovegood. Mr. Whimsey accordingly arrived, and visited Mr, oL.. ~ 2L ~ will be in Heaven. 386 DIALOGUE XLII. . Brightman at hislodgings. Both Mr. Brightman, ané Mr. Slapdash were just then paying some visits the Town. Mr. Sprightly therefore sent a note them, informing them, that a Gentleman had arri at his house, who appeared to him to be half craz and wanted to see Mr. Brightman directly. The accordingly returned, and the conversation aftera short introduction, thus commenced. —_——- Whim. O Sir ! finding that Sandover was not mu out of my way, I thought I would call on my retur and tell you what a glorious work is carrying on in the north; for I perceived, when you were my € rate, that you were but ababe in knowledge. == Bri. Sir, I love to hear of good news, if it be really good. a Whim. Good Sir! what can be better ? Ato ; of the public prayer-meetings, there were eleven convinced of sin, eight seé at liberty ; and three were made perfect ; and are now as free from sin as they Slapd. What state-was the moon in when all this happened ? ad Whim. O Sir, it was near the full : for Lrememb it was very light, when we went home, and we did not break up till near twelve: “the Lord was so mugh among us.” a Slapd. I thought it must have been about tha time ; for some sortof people are always worse about the full, and change of the moon. _ Whim. Why, I hope Sir you don’t call allt : great work of God, madness ;,'as the heathen. Festus thought St. Paul was mad, when-he told his '¢ perience. cs Bri. No Sir, 1 hope we shall never connate tha which deserves to be called a great work of God, te be the effect of madness, for that brings disorderly sinners to the possession of their sober senses, ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. 387 they may serve God with ‘‘ all wisdom and spiritual landerstanding.” Whim. Why Sir, it-is wonderful how powerfully these people were convinced of sin, as in a momeni, ho that their screams and cries for mercy, were heard allthe Chapelover. And don’t we read how “the Spirit eonvinces the world of sin; and when three thousand people were pricked to the heart, how they all cried, '« Men and brethren, what must we do to be’saved !” | Bri. Does it in the least appear, that they, one and all, cried out at the same time, so as to interrupt the ‘Apostle in his preaching?’ Is is not rather evident, they first heard Peter’s sermon, with very serious attention, and then waited, though with eagersurprize, a proper opportunity was given them to ask the important question, what must we do? or in other language, “how shall we escape from the wrath to e? Or does it appear though the occasion was so ‘extraordinary, while their convictions were so powerful and strong, that there were any of those erical ravings and screamings, that we have heard ry in other places ? ? With what calmness and delibe- ration the Apostle answers this solemn and important uery: ‘‘ Then Peter said unto them, Repent and be tized every one of you in the name of Jesus wrist, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive gift of the Holy Ghost. For the promise is unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off ; even as many as the Lord our God shall call.” And still addressing their reason, we are further told, how that “‘ with many other words did he testify and ex- hort, saying, save yourselves, or be ye saved,* from this untoward generation,” concluding evidently, that they were all capable of receiving his instructions with ional and attentive minds. _ And new Sir, allow me to ask, if there be any, een the most distant similarity between such meet- ings as you have lately attended, and the assembly recorded in the Acts, where so many souls in the fall _* Actsii. 38, 39, 40. the original expression is passive. 388 DIALOGUE XLIII, exercise of their undefstanding, were so effectually converted from sin to God ? Whim. Why to be sure: when Sally Jakes wa convinced of sin, her screams were so loud, that they were heard quite out in the streets. And when Je Anvil the blacksmith received conviction, for a whi cwo men could scarcely hold him ; but he has bee tions were so strong : and as for Susan Simple, thon she was more quiet, yet when she was convinced, she was so overpowered, that it was some time before she was bought into her senses. e | Slapd. Perhaps the blacksmith might have he a drop too much, just before he came into the Chapel; and as to the woman you speak of, I should really be apt to suspect the good that any persons are sup- posed to get, while they are out of their senses. Whim. Why I have known persons converted i the midst of their sing ; and when, persons are ii altogether in their senses, why cannot God, ey then, reach the heart?) ~~~ a Slapd. Sir, we are not about to limit the Holy Or in his divine operations upon the hearts of men; b still it becomes us to beware of those human mis tures, which may lay us open to a variety of decey tions, respecting the work itself. It was not aboy three Sundays ago, when a miserable, drunken fellow came into my Chureh, and while there, in my address to sinners at the conclusion of the sermon, his con victions, for a while, almost overpowered his reasor and he cried out in such a manner, that the ‘con gregation was somewhat disturbed ; but this was 2 extreme of passion, which we attempted immedia to correct. And afterwards when I had an intery with the poor creature, I was happy to find there wa nothing irrational, or improper in the account he gay of himself, but that such an overpowering sense of the evil of sin, was just then, more than he could eustain. ~ Spri. When our late dear Minister preached in ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. 389 | last sermon among us, and fainted away in the pul- | pit, and was carried out of the Church like a corpse ; | while many of us apprehended that immediate disso- latioa might have been the result ; no wonder that such overpowering effects were produced upon the congregation, that some were thrown into strong hysterics, whose constitutional feelings were too weak |to bear the shock. ‘There was a rational cause for all our sorrows, and we could not help ourselves, nor resist their excessive effects. _ Bri. Nor shall I ever forget, though I was then ‘but ten years of age, the pangs of grief my dear ‘mother was thrown into, when my Father, struck with apoplexy, was brought home, all but breathless, vand covered with blood, the temple artery having ‘been cut, to preserve his life, if possible.. No won- der at her extacies, while she had four children, and ‘one an infant at her breast, and almost all her expec- ‘tations cut off by this sudden stroke. | Slapd. And if the things of eternity are of inft- ‘Ritely greater importance, than those of time ané sense, lapprehend we can never feel more than we tshould, on the discovery of our exceeding sinfulness ‘before God. _ Bri. As far as this goes, we shall all agree : for eould we feel as much as we should, under a convic- ‘tion of our sinfulness, it would be more than our hu- /man constitutions could sustain; and, especially, at the discovery of these evils in a more imme- 'diate, and unexpected manner. I have oftentimes thought, what a strong exemplification we have of this almighty power, respecting some whom St. Paul ‘Mentions, who belonged to the Corinthian Church, _and who came into their assemblies, though unbe- lievers, “‘ were convinced of all, and judged of all, and thus falling down on their faces, worshipped God, and reported that God was in them of a truth ?”* the fimes were extraordinary, and the occasion was ex- Er * 1 Cor. xiv. 24, 25, 390 DIALOGUE XLIII.. traordinary ; and no wonder at such extraonsll nary | effects. - % Whim. Weil, and so it is in the present day, | times, in our meetings and chapels. __ so Bri. Then is there no reason to suspect a fa imitation of such times and seasons? It shall k ever be most readily granted, that the same divi ; power is needed, in all ages of the Church, to | the convinced sinner, to the knowledge of salvatic But I have before now observed to you Sir, that these sort of instantaneous impulses are at best, but ve dubious evidences, if any. evidences at all, of tl reality of this divine power. | Whim. Why, is it not evident, that the rial hou- sand you have mentioned, under Peter's se mc knew not only the place, but the very moment, which they were convinced of sin, and did not those also feel the same, who “ fell down on their face and acknowledged that God was in them of a truth Spri. Though I was increasingly struck at tl the excellent things 1 heard from the lips of our | dear Minister, ‘yet I must confess, I know nothi such an impressive moment, as Mr. Whimsey sé to insist upon. . Bri. Though it may not be necessary to enquire about the moment of a sinner’s conyersion ; ye 4 are ready to admit the fact that there are thous: a in the world, who can remember-the time and p in which Divine mercy was first manifested to 1 hearts. How many there are, who well recollect the first sermon they ever heard with a divine effe ect q or perhaps some other providential means, which might have brought about the same desirable end, And yet I think it is net an improbable conjecture, that many of those who heard Peter’s first sermon might formerly have been the hearers of John t Baptist, preaching repentance in the wilderne Judea; and that some former convictions they. received, were afterwards, more songly and pow fully revived, ENTHUSIASM DETECTEv. 391 | Slapd. Nor need we deny that which the Scrip- | tares have positively revealed, respecting the Apostle | Paul, the’ Phillippian jailor, and Zaccheus the pub- | lican, whose immediate conversions were accomplish- | ed by an immediate operation of a Divine power to each of their minds. And yet others were evidently | made partakers of the same grace, were wrought | upon in a very different manner. The timid Nico- | demus, who through fear, could not venture to come | to Jesus, but by night; was certainly seeking for | something he felt he needed from him; otherwise he ) would have entirely kept away. Yet afterwards, | when the light of divine truth had shone more power- | fally upon his mind, he became more confident in his | profession, and proved it by his more courageous zeal; when with Joseph of Arimathea, he evidently ‘proved, he was not ashamed to own our crucified Lord, when he brought his costly spices at his fu- | The same gradual increase was evidenced upon the mind of the pious Centurion, whose “ prayers, and whose alms came up as a memorial before God, ‘a long time before he heard from Peter, ‘‘ words whereby he should be saved ;” and probably a similar -imstance of divine grace, was manifested to Lydia also, who attended “where prayer was. wont to be made,” before she heard St. Paul; and whose heart the Lord afterwards more fully opened. And surely there can be no doubt but that such as were brought to accept the salvation of the Gospel, by a mere gra- dual change from darkness to light, are not less the ehildren of the light and of the day, than others. _ Whim. 1 must say, that in this I entirely differ from you both. I doubt not, but that all of them _knew the very moment in. which they were converted. Ishall never forgetthe very spoton which I received the ‘forgiveness of mysins. It was out ina thunder-storm. ‘thought “‘ cannot God make the sun shine through that black cloud?” and, almost directly, the sun shone out as bright as ever I beheld it. And then again, 392 DIALOGUE XLIII. I thought, cannot God im the same manner break into my soul, and forgive me all my sins? and im diately as if it had been a voice from Heaven, it ca to me, “ Thy sins are forgiven thee.” And from that very moment, I had peace with God. And as to my wife, she received her pardon one night when she was asleep ; for she heard the voice of an Angel, ag plainly speak to her, as if she had been wide awake, ‘“‘ Daughter, be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven _ thee :” and this is the way she came by her pardon, — Bri. Now Sir, will you give a poor babe leave’ say, when texts of scripture are brought home to people’s minds in such a fanciful manner, in my opie nion very delusive consequences. may be the resulf, 1 first ask, by what authority do I take such passages, as though they were designed as an express revele tion individually to me? If my recollection reminds me of them, does it not become me to examine whe- ther I possess the same humble, penitent, believin frame of mind, as they possessed, to whom they were originally addressed? then the same blessing is cer tainly mine, as well as their's. Nor does a strong, or fanciful recollection of them add in the least to the blessing contained in them. If otherwise, the strong fancy operates, the stronger a lying delusion m operate upon my mind: for none but penitent be- lievers. will ever be pardoned, however a deluded fancy may deceive them. Not that 1 deny the sm perintendency of the Holy Spirit, to bring home dif. | ferent passages of scripture to the mind ; but it isa duty we owe to ourselves, to consider them in all their own bearings, before we take the consolation of them to ourselves. Whim. Well Sir, if you still think the Holy Sy may bring texts of scripture to the mind, I hope and my wife had them properly brought home to our minds. But surely you don’t deny the power @f | prayer, and at that meeting I mentioned, it is wo derful how Sally Fancy received forgiveness, while they were praying over her, that she might be se ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. 393 _ Giberty ; telling the Lord, “ he musé do it, because they prayed in faith, and that if Christ did uot do it Girectly, they would tell his Father of him.:? and it _ was just then that the light broke in upon her soul. ' Bri. But Sir, is this the proper language for sin- | mers to make use of before the eternal throne of God, _when our minds should be filled with the deepest _Feverence and awe? ; Whim. O Sir! they only use fhe same sort of language that the importunate Widow did before the unjust Judge. Bri. But are we to conceive that such metaphors and allusions can produce a proper apology for such daring expressions? Can the importunate language of that Widow, before an unjust Judge, sanction a ay address before an infinitely just and holy God? Whim. Perhaps some of the exhorters may go too far. But I am sure he pardoned them, or he would not have justified Sally Fancy, which immediately ‘took place ; so that she got up from her knees, and began singing with the preachers directly. And just then, another woman received forgiveness, and began ‘to sing with several others. But as it happened, they struck up in such different tunes, that it was impos- sible to find what was sung ; and if it had not been for that and another circumstance, just at that time, there would have been singing all the Chapel over. | Slapd. I have alittle curiosity to ask, what that other circumstance could have been? Whim. Why two persons, who were told what ‘marvellous doings were carrying on at the Chapel about that time, in hopes of being convinced of sin, just then came in, but for want of faith, in that in- stance, they could not obtain it ; and yet one of them prayed so earnestly, that he was all in a sweat, and his eyes were ready to start out of his head ; and one of these men felt so much, that it was as much as two people could do, to hold him down, for he wanted 394 DIALOGUE XLIII. | to run away before he was convinced ; but the con- stables kept all as quiet as they could.* : Slapd. “Really Sir, if I had been there, I show have thought myself in Bedlam. . Whim. Bedlam Six! why what could have been more glorious! And while I was praying in one com ner of the chapel, I had such strong faith given me, for Jennet Meagrim, one of the class-leaders, that she instantly received the second blessing of christian per fection, and I am sure it was at that very moment 7 prayed in faith that it might be given her, and now she is as free from sin, as she will be in heaven. Slapd. What, while she is still carrying about with her “a body of sin and death! !” 4 Bri. I confess, Mr. Whimsey, I never could um derstand your doctrine of perfection, and it appears to me such a sort of imperfect perfection after all, that a person will do better without. it than. with it; for as to the milder remedial law, that some of you talk about, that if we do as well as we can, instead of doing as well as we should, that is all the law now requires ; if some of your friends are contented with such.a loose law, I confess I am, not,+ an Slapd. It is to be hoped that every real Christia has a perfect, or an upright heart; but alas ! we he so much to contend with, from the remains of cor ruption, that the best of us haye need to ery, “ God be merciful to me a sinner!” __ ; a Whim. O Sir! Jennet Meagrim said, she dire felt sin destroyed in her, root and branch, and the it went through her like a flash of lightning, and immediately she cried out for joy, “ He is come! he is come !” : * Ttis too true, that the civil naneistiats has been under the necessity of employing the peace officers, to guard against t evil consequences of these wild proceedings, so contrary tot decency and order the gospel inspires. _ of + See Dialogue XXVII. ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. 395 Slapd. Pray Sir, don’t you think a deal of all this is produced by violent and improper efforts, upon the animal passions, that is rather prejudicial, than be- heficial to that real good, which God communicates to the heart? __ Whim. Sir, what can be better, than to be per- fectly freed from all sin ? _ Bri. May I ask, Sir, when I lived with you, was it an imagination or a reality, that made Mrs. Whimsey’s ‘maid fancy that she was perfect, when three days after, she fell into a violent passion with her mistress, because she thought proper to lock up the pepper and salt, and not to allow her to keep the key of the batter any longer? _ Whim. O Sir, she lost it for a while, but she is ‘trying to recover it again. _ Bri. May Lask again Sir, how far you recollect the ‘tricks which were played off, some years ago, by Dr. ‘Demanaduke and others, when animal magnetism was in vogue? What strange and astonishing effects were produced thereby? and are not the efforts now making, very similar, when people are so strongly urged to expect such unwarrantable impulses, which aey are to conceive, as being absolutely necessary to the salvation of the soul ? _ Slapd. Yes, and these sort of devotions seem to be offered up much in the same style of the ancient exorcists, as though the Devil actually possessed the ‘minds of some, who needed deliverance by such ef- forts of extraordinary imprecations, as at times, are very shocking and profane. _ Whim. O Sir! I believe the Devil at times, and among some people, has great power over the human mind, and we always find the deliverance is granted, when the preachers are the most violent and earnest in prayer; for you know, “the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence,” and just when [ was most earnest, then it was, that Jennet Meagrim received perfection.” | Bri. Surely Sir, as a beneficed Clergyman, you | 896 DIALOGUE XLIII. were not one of the actors, in this stage of enth siasm. IV Us ao | Whim. O no Sir! My prayer of faith, was offered | up quite privately, at one corner of the Chapel ; I know a good, faithful soul, who was a washer woman, that said, she was sure to have fine weather to dry her linen, if she could but pray in faith* | Slapd. I should hardly suppose, that the Lon would alter the course of the clouds, for the sake gratifying an old woman, during her washing-week. Whim. O Sir, if you don’t believe it, I do. Am I remember another good lady, who was a milling at Bath; expecting that there might soon be a Cor mourning, she in faith, made up a great numb mourning caps; and while herhusband thought that s was doing wrong, fearing that much might be los * Much of this false confidence in prayer, seems to orig from a conceited excellency in our devotions, arising from th mere strength of our imaginations. But where a s irit < warm and wise devotion is Eb for any particular blessing, may we not take it as a good indication, that it is the graciot design of God to answer such supplications? Certainly we may, for “the effectual fervent pert of the righteous man, | availeth much ;” but then we should have a scriptural warra for what we ask, for instance, There is a wide difference be tween that prayer of faith, which was given to some by a mira culousimpulse, before miracles were withheld ; while there is" still a prayer of faith, an answerto which every real Christianha yet aright to expect its being granted. While we cannot with too much confidence, yet with reverence, pray for all those spiti- tual blessings which are promised in Christ Jesus, to all lievers; yet diffidence equally becomes us, while we la ask that which God may most righteously refuse to We may and should pray fervently for ourown daily p servation, and as we are sociable beings, for the preservatio! useful and valuable lives, and for the salvation of our n and dearest friends and relatives: but we have no wai conclude our prayers must at all times be answered, and’ according to the strength of our imaginations. In man stances like these, God may try our patience, by very p: denials, while some good people, not altogether freed f degree of innocent enthusiasm, may be brought into consider able perplexities, when such blessings, which we lawfully a properly pray for, are still withheld. » aa ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. 357 for want of customers; she went up stairs, and laid the caps before the Lord in prayer, and there was ylmost immediately a court mourning ; which as it turned out, turned in, most wonderfully to her profit ; j0 that ycu see Sir, the Lord led her right. Slapd: [Smiles.] Well, this is the first time in all ny te a ever I heard of caps being laid before ie Lord. He Bri. You. know Sir, when I was your Curate, we iad frequent discussions on these subjects, and we aever could agree ; but I fear that all these strange mpulses, and impressions upon the fancy, which aaturally lead to the grossest misconceptions of the power of Divine grace, have an unhappy tendency, ost sadly to mislead. I confess, I was at times nelined to suspect the reality of these things alto ether, till. better taught. And I greatly bless God w that kind Providence which has directed me into these parts, where, I trust, 1 have seen genuine Christianity, without any of these wild extravagancies *xemplified in all those wise and holy fruits of righte- yusness, which must abound in them, who are blessed im the purifying knowiedge of the Gospel upon the neart. Lam satisfied with you Sir, that a saving discovery of the evils of sin, can never be made known to us; but dy the convincing influences of the Holy Spirit, and _* The reader has this story just as I had it from the lady ierself, many years ago. She was a very innocent and well- ntentioned enthusiast. Many may have weak heads, but up- ‘ight hearts. The bad consequences of trusting on whimsical mpressions, may not have the same effect on all, though it is lot my wish to cause my weak brother or sister to offend ; yet vllies of this sort, are too abundant and notorious to be hid. dam very happy to acknowledge at the same time, that nany of the most judicious, belonging to the same body which these enthusiastical scenes are exhibited, enter their most solemn protest against them ; their honorable testimony -opposition to such evils, deserves the highest thanks from: all, who better understand the Spirit’s work, than to suppose such disorderly exhibitions, can be the result of communica-. ions from a Being, who is infinitely wise and good. TOL Il. . 2m 398 DIALOGUE XLII. that this is the ground work of all genuine repentahde, and conversien to God,---but I cannot believe, this blessed grace, is created in us, as by a moment: impulse ; but that it becomes a living, and ¢ ; principle abiding in us, directing us to hate in the worst of evils, and enabling us to watch and pi against it all the days of our lives. ” 1 am therefore well persuaded, that while they ro of Divine grace, may have its aprecnaull ginnings, it cannot be imperceptable in its gress, and its beneficial effects. - That it’ is: unpossible to have holy sorrow of mind, without f ing it, as it is to have agonizing pain of body, with being sensible of it. And with your leave, I equa bear my humble testimony against your idea of | stantaneous pardon, and forgiveness; for though % must be either pardoned or not pardoned, in t eternal mind of God, yet the evidence, or senst that pardon, can only be made ‘known to me, as find [ am blessed with that “ faith, which is of operation of God,” and which consequently, W enable me to bring forth fruit to his glory ; and th are the only evidences that the Scriptures wa and on which the soul may safely rely, _ Whim. Sir, I can’t take in your doctrine at all; it not said, ‘* the Lord whom ye seek shall! babes come into his temple.” xi Bri. And so he did, when the Infant Sariad expectedly came into his Father’s Temple, to recei the dedicating ordinance of circumcision: but found an argument on such mere allusions, is n er the way to convince those, who expect a reason’ | what they are to believe. Slapd. Tn my opinion, this notion of instantaneom: pardon,-as from an express revelation, is more 6 jectionable than the former, and creates pes ZO hypocrites, by thousands. ‘ Spri. I cannot see any material difference betw veen the faith of . Mr. Whimsey, and the faith of thos Antinomians, who have lately attempted to gain ENTHUSIASM DETECTED. 39g footing in our-Town ; for while the one set talk as.if 9 faith were genuine, which does not come into the mind by an instantaneous impulse; the others insist upon it, that faith is nothing but a mere believing in the direct testimony of the word: that as Christ has performed the Redeemer’s office, therefore he is their Redeemer, only because they believe it, even while they are living in adultery, or cutting a throat.* Yet these both presume they are right, from the mere fancy, or fond persuasion of the mind; while ‘we can have no scriptural evidence that we are justified by faith, according to St. Paul, but as we have works to justify our faith, according to St. James. | Whim. Why Mr. Slapdash, 1 always thought you were a Calvinist. _ Slapd.. Yes Sir, Iam a Calvinist ; and that makes ‘me stch an enemy to all sorts of Antinomianism. But if you mean to call.any of us Calvinists, supposing we implicitly adopt the creed that Calvin has made out for us to believe, we renounce the name, however we may revere the memory of the man. We wish no more to follow him, than others who were the great lights, who sprung up in that day.. Butif the charge is, that we are led by the same spirit to adopt the same truths that were admitted, without controversy, for a hundred years after the reformation; we most readily yield to the charge. But pray Sir, may we be favored with the definition of what you call Cal- vinism ? . _ Whim. Why Sir, many with whom I have been acquainted, thus explain whatit means. .“ If. weare elected, do whatever wickedness we will, we are sure to be saved; and if we are not elected, let us do what we can to be saved, we are sure to be damned.” __ Bri. Now Mr. Whimsey, let me seriously ask you Hidis question. I was your Curate for sixteen months ‘and at times you heard me preach, and though you eercnty told me, that I was leaning too much to- fe * See Dialogue 38. 400 DIALOGUE XLII1. ‘ wards Calvinism, did you ever hear me top a'sing ‘hint, which could have the most distant tem towards sentiments like these ? or from what pulp or from what Minister did you ever hear language’ blasphemous and profane ? te Whim. Not directly so, but this is What is undé stood by Calvinism. Slap. Understood by Calvmism!-—-This fully that yon understand nothing about it, when fhios Ministers, you and others so artfully and uameroifath malign, are ever urging just the reverse. Are not ever pressing upon our careless hearers, that wh they are despisers, and profane neglecters of the mean: of grace, while they will not come unto Christ that they may have life, that they give every evidence in the power against themselves, that they are * given a reprobate mind,” and are therefore permitted in just wrath tocommit “alluncleanness with greediness?’ and are we not ever assuring all those, who am ‘* giving diligence to make their calling and electiox sure,” that every repenting and believing sinner, who thus cometh, the Lord will im no wise cast out ? Ane I am further persuaded, that this is much purer, and safer ground to go upon, than any antinomian pe suasion on the one hand, or any of your enthusi st instantaneous impulses on the other ; and that befe any evidences whatever can be produced. her will such men abstain from this wicked art of mis. representing, what they cannot refute ? a Whim. Why I must say, that some sort of preach ers say things they ought not, when they want to deter the people from attending on your sort of pr ng: and I confess, that such as are accused of holdit these doctrines, are as diligent im their way, as Ws can be in ours! nor are you so apt to fall fromg in your way, as we are in ours. Slapd. If every impression upon the i is to be called grace, no wonder that it t j 416 DIALOGUE XLIV,. he has felt such mischievous intent from oe bad example. | Sir Thos. Oh no, Mr. Littleworth is quite right— If I thought I had two such blackguards as helpers ih my stables, I should surely turn them off, lest they should corrupt the rest ; neither estate nor titles can make the real gentleman after all; [to Farmer Lit tleworth,] But Sir, will you continue your story? . Far. Why Sir, after they had been at it all day betting and gaming with the swindlers and sharpers, who came together from all parts of the country, they were in hopes that they should get it back again by their cock-fightings in the evening: and there the q quite did it all up, and got themselves in debt into the - bargain ; and then as they say, by the persuasion of Sam Blood, they agreed to get up at two o'clock ii the morning, and rob the public-house where the were ; and after they had broken open different cup boards and places, to get all the money and plate, bi throwing down a large tea-board, they awakened tlie lanllord and his family ; and just as they were opel- ing the door to run off with their prey, such an alarm was made by the firing of a pistol, that they were all directly stopped in the street. i Wor. I fear it will be a difficult task to save their lives, for it seems they had all loaded pistols ; and though Sam Blood first snapt his pistol at the land lord’s son, without effect, yet he took a second aim at the young man, while he was attempting to escap vg his life, and gave him a very dangerous wound his shoulder. Far. Now William Frolic says, he can declare a the word of a dying man, that he had no pistol of his own, but that Sam Blood, while all ima hurry, fe they might make their escape, lent him one of though he never attempted to fire it; and as for poor simple fellow, Ned Sparkish, no ‘matter if he w to be Wipt at the cart’s tail, from one end of the P. to the other, yet he had no pistol at all, only he mad a flourish with an old rusty sword which he found i in * ¢ THE RAKE’S PROGRESS AND RUIN. 417 ‘the house, that he might make his escape; and they say he was a very orderly lad, till Sam Blood got hold on him and led him astray. _ Sir Thos. 1f these circumstances might be made known to the Judge, perhaps life might be granted to } your son-in-law and the other youth. _ Wor. As to Sam Blood, I should suppose that no interference for him can be attended with success.— Justice, at times, demands a sacrifice which must not be dispensed with; and where an attempt to commit ‘murder ‘iis added to thievery, the crime becomes very heinous indeed. Far. But as neither my Son-in-law, nor Ned Spark- ish-had any thoughts of that sort, perhaps my Lord Fudge might yet send them a pardon, if he knew the ‘rights of it, Obif your Honor could but get the Judge to spare his life, how thankful should Ibe! | Wor. Why there is one favorable event. Mr. ‘Lovely, in consequence of his possessing his old Uncle’s property, has been appointed Sheriff for the County : perhaps he may obtain mercy for two of them, when it is fully understood that no intentional murder was designed, though under such a supposition, no wonder that they were all left for death. Far. O Sir! if you two worthy gentlemen would but write out a petition, I know that dear Gentleman, Squire Lovely would be mighty glad to present it to jhis Lordship. As to my daughter, poor girl, she has | miscarried once ; and she begins again to draw near | her time, and she sits crying and sobbing all the day long: it breaks our very hearts to hear her,—and as | to my wife and I, especially as the infirmities of old _age begin to creep fast upon us, these troubles are enough to bring down our grey hairs, with sorrow to ) the grave. Mrs. Wor. But as the assizes are now over, the | Judge must have left the county, and Mr. Lovely must have returned ; and I am told, Mrs. Lovely expects to be confined the latter end of this month, or perhaps sooner; and as this is rather an unexpected event A418 DIALOGUE XLIV. from the weak state of her health, I dont know will choose to leave the house again, under such | cumstances, though none of us can have a de respecting the affectionate willingness of his mind . Sir Thos. Why, Tam told, Mr, Lovely stands very high in the Judge’s favor, on account of his excellent character, and engaging conduct; and as it is the same Judge who favored me with a visit when he w el | this circuit on the last summer assizes, I will ven re to write myself on the behalf of these unhappy creas tures. I know the Judge to be a very considerate and merciful man: he will be glad to hear of an circumstances whieh lessens their guilt. — ~ 4 Wor. Well then Mr. Littleworth, that nc time may be lost, we will write directly, ‘ead state thes favorable circumstances, and send the letters by thi night’s post. _ Far. O Sir! but if young "Squire Lovely shoul be called from home, or the letter should miscarry, had I not better send my dear child Harry with the letters ? q Wor. It will be certainly the safest, and at the cam time it will look more respectful. And if our WOr- thy Minister could go too, it would be the bett still. - o Loveg. Oh Sir! you are for sending me upon every errand. d Wor. Because no one is so fit. And I am sure it would bea great satisfaction to Mr. Henry Lit# worth, if you could but attend him with your cou and advice. Far. Aye, that it would, and lam sure he will sadly need such company. Dear child! what = Tres he feel, when he goes to see those poor creatw irons, and locked up ina gaol like so man beasts, when he recollects what a wicked blade he \ before he felt the converting grace of God in his own heart. [To Mr. Lovegood.] And oh Sir! what a blessing it might be to the souls of these nuur thought less cr eatures, now they have brought themselves into i THE RAKE’S PROGRESS AND RUIN. 419 such trouble, if you could but go and tell them of the free grace and mercy of Jesus Christ to poor perish- Ing simners, and how blessedly he can change their hearts. Loveg. Oh Mr. Littleworth, your son will know how to talk upon that subject from his own experience better than 1 should, Wor. Well I find at times, we must come toa point with you directly. It is now Monday, and Saturday being the market-day, is the appointed time for their execution; therefore not an hour can be lost. I shall send for a chaise from Mapleton, and _ you shall both be off by six o’clock to-morrow morning _that you may if possible see Mr. Lovely by noon: we | will this very evening draw up the petition, Sir Thomas, and I will sign it: and I am sure Mr. Lovely ‘will take it immediately 1o the Judge, if possible: "perhaps he will have to follow him some way through the circuit, though I dare say he'll soon overtake him. ; fie Loveg. Indeed Sir, you put too much upon me. _. Wor. No Sir, nor half enough. I know the de- | fects of your disposition better than you know them yourself: your modesty and diffidence cramp your zeal, and limit your usefulness ; how wrong you did in | resisting the overtures of Mr. ‘Lovely, to be his She- --riff’s Chaplain, though he has certainly fixed ona _ very proper person, in appointing young Mr. Bright- | man to that office. Loveg. Ah Sir! if. there had not been a Mr. _ Brightman in the case, I might have accepted the appointment: and you know how well he can perform the office. Wor. I believe, whenever you are appointed toa Bishoprick, no man upon earth will say with a better conscience, “ nolo episcopari,” than yourself, Eoveg. Under such positive orders, 1 must obey ; and, as I can return again te my station by the next Sunday, I am not inclined to urge another ob- jection. 4120 DIALOGUE XLIV Far. Oh Sir, the Lord be praised . the Lord be praised! I'll go home: directly and: tell Harry to get ready as fast as he can, and he shall tell Patty what we are about. Poor Girl! she is ready to break her heart. Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.] But won’t you drop us a short prayer before we part. [Lovegood complies, and only uses the following collect :] : “ Prevent us O Lord, in all our doings, with th most gracious favor, and further us with thy conti- nual help ; that in all our works begun, continu and ended in thee, we may glorify thy holy name and, finally, by thy mercy, obtaim everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Wor. [After prayer.] Sir, you are never too long in prayer, but now you have been much too short. Loveg. Yes Sir, but time directed us to compris much in a little; andifGod prevents,* or goes | us in all our doings, we cannot have a better. eit | and while we ask that all our works may be be continued, and ended in him, we can neither request, — nor receive a greater blessing, and then we shall cer= tainly glorify his holy name. ‘They all retire. * * Such is the original meaning of the word, from Preveni to be before. : £ ~ . ad DIALOGUE XLV. i | MR. WORTHY AND FAMILY, MR. LOVEGOOD, AND HENRY LITTLEWORTH PRISON MEDITATIONS. . N°? other alteration in the plan settled in the for- mer dialogue took place, than that by the hum- | ble request of Mrs Sparkish, she might be permitted | to take a part m the same chaise procured for Mr. Lovegood and Mr. H. Littleworth, by the bene- | yolent Mr. Worthy, that she might know how far | the present attempt to save her son’s life might | succeed ; or else bathe him in her tears, before he ' was given over into the hands of the executioner for death. On the return of Henry and Mr. Lovegood, they | both went to Mr. Worthy’s by his peculiar desire. | Mrs. Sparkish alighted at her own house, as they | passed through Mapleton to Brookfield Hall ; they | did not arrive till late on the Saturday afternoon; the dialogue thus began: Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.] How do you do my good Sir? [to Henry.] How are you Mr. Henry? we have scarcely finished our tea, will you takea cup avith us? [They accept it; and while the tea was handed about, the conversation continued. | Wor. We have followed you with many an anxious thought, since you left us. 1 almost fear by your looks to ask what has heen the result. Loveg. Sir, I never was so agitated in all my life, Wor. ie 20 499 DIALOGUE XLV. what I have seen this morning, and indeed all{ urough, has almost entirely overset me. Wor. What, then have all of them been lefi to suffer ? Loveg. Oh no Sir, Sam Blood alone was, and I think very deservedly, given ever to death: he was a most desperate, hardened, bloody-minded man. Wor. Our Judges are ale p tit « von b ott ee _— ; LF garetts aby i . (2 Ve v - - ~ nit ® ze ~ «te pacwe ¢ + yl, Peseta ge oe = » 7 > 2 ~itob bem L DIALOGUE XLVII. MR. LOVEGOOD; MR. anv MRS. WORTHY ; MRS. MERRY- MAN ; MR. anv MRS. CONSIDERATE ; AND FARMER LITTLEWORTH. : i BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. heen writer of these dialogues, begs to apologise * for his old and useful friend, Thomas Newman, who first introduced himself into his imagination ; as it respects his fears, a little selfish I confess, lest Mr. Lovegood should be made the Archbishop of Canter- .* His mind was perfectly correct; his ideas of the distribution of such high ecclesiastical pre- ferments, were not only as honorable to the state, as they were respectful to the characters who should be | promoted to receive them. _ Who then can presume to cast a second smile on the _ simple supposition, as it originated with this honest peasant, that such a man as Mr. Lovegood should be thus preferred:—a Minister so truly pious and devoted _ to God ; with so much judgment and wisdom ; with so much purity and integrity; with so much simplicity and godly sincerity : so completely delivered from all the fleshly wisdom of the world; who could address a country congregation with such lovely familiarity, and yet with such solemn dignity, so as to make the ' Wwisest to wonder, and the most unlettered to under- _ stand ; who could reason, alarm, allure, as the subject _ Fequired: in- short, who had no fault but his over- ' modesty ; while at the same time, he was possessed _ of every ability, capable of rendering him truly splen- * Sce Dialogue iI. 452 DIALOGUE XLYII. did and great. At one timea Paul in argument; then an Apollos in eloquence; next a Peter in bold sim- plicity ; and at other times, not less a John in child- like familiarity : on the one ‘hand, when the language of a Boanerges was necessary ; such a son of thunder was he, that his auditory would stand trembling before him, struck with astonishment and holy awe; and when the balmy language of a Barnabas was required, he proved such a son of consolation also, as that ne man living was better qualified to bind up the broken hearted, with so much tenderness and love. Notwithstanding ‘Thomas Newman’s selfishness, who would not wish for at least episcopal honors, on behalf of such a man of God as this ?—Happy there- fore, shall I be, if this slight sketch of a character so great and good, might be the means of making known his excellent worth, so as that he may be called to fill the next vacant Bishopric, whether great or small; and long in that situatien may he live, to lay — his hallowed hands, on many wise heads, with upright hearts, who shall prove themselves “ workmen that ; need not be ashamed,” to the honor and credit of the established Church, and to the salvation of thomeaaa who love to worship within her sacred walls. One circumstance I acknowledge, I fear may ope- rate against such high preferment, being conferred on such a man, however eminent and good. It must be observed, that he rather made a breach in his aceus- tomed ecclesiastical good manners, while by the im- perious command of a hungry starving company of sinners, he was compelled to make use of an assembly- room, when it was not in his power to procure a Church. - What could he do, what must others of the regular Clergy do under the like devotedness of spirit, under the same fervent desire for the salvation of souls? Let charity under the like feelings plead their cause, before a contracted spirit, presumes to con- demn. Doubtless, the Rev. Mr. Bellweather will make known the crimes of this ecclesiastical delinquent, far BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. 453 and wide; let envy, like the serpent, lick the file, as _ song as its envenomed tongue can last. Mr. Lovegood _ is still the same, while his very faults prove his fitness _ for the episcopal office. Give him but a Bishopric, and he can command all the Churches in his diocese _ at his will: he wants but scope equal to his wisdom _ and zeal, and then he willac regalarly in course ; and _nder such a call, at least as I conjecture, may we not ask the question, where shall we find the Bishop _ upon earth, however warmed by his indefatigable zeal ; though like Bishop Jewel, whe wished to die preach- ing; who shall outshine the character of Bishop ~ Lovegood, in his unwearied labors for the salvation _ of souls?’ Oh that such heavenly-minded men, may _ never be wanted to fill that sacred office in our British ' Sion! then shall the Church be blessed indeed, while men, so truly great and good, shall be made the instruments of conferring the solemn character on _ others also, not less diligent and devoted than the re- _ nowned, though retired, vicar of Lower Brookfield himself. Sorry am I, that my kind readers have now to be in the company of this excellent servant of God for the last time. That the lovely peasant, Thomas Newman, that the simple-hearted Farmer Littleworth, his truly converted son Henry, his worthy sister Nancy, Mrs. Traffic, and their family, the judicious Mr. Conside- rate, and his family, the plain and honest Mr. Steady- man, the truly catholic and mild-spirited dissenting minister, Mr. Peaceful, the deeply wounded, and contrite Mrs. Chipman, the serious and reflecting Mr. Reader, the most amiable and delightful Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, the pleasant and lively Mr. Merryman, and the very admirable and respectable family of the Worthys :—sorry I am to say, that after this last dia- logue, they are to appear no more. And let such characters, held forth as a warning, which have been brought forward as a contrast to their excellent qualific tions, vanish from our imaginations without regret. 454 DIALOGUE XLVII, And should the writer of these dialogues have so _ conducted himself, as that he can be followed by his readers, even to the last page of the publication, with- out a nod ; while they are read as an evening’s enter- tainment, even to a late hour, he shall not regret the many late hours he also has spent, in prosecuting the work; and especially if any of his dear readers, should be brought near to God thereby. The general invitation given at the-conclusion of the last Dialogue, brought on the Monday, to the fou repast of “the hospitable Mr. Worthy, the followin guests: Mr. Lovegood, Mr. and Mrs, Considerate, an Farmer Littleworth. After the accustomed how de you do salntations, the good old farmer thus began, — == Ee Far. Ant please your honor, my deur child Harry, did insist upon it that I should come to-day, agreeably to your honor’s :invitation, and that he would stay at home at this busy time, to mind the farm, especially as my poor daughter has got a letter — from her husband, which old Nelly Trot brought from the post-office to our house yesterday, after we re- turned from Brookfield Church ;—and I should be very glad of a little of your honor’s, good advice upon the subject. Poor fellow! he writes in a very humble style. What a mercy it will be, if the Lord brings about the salvation of his soul, by thet sore afflictions ! [The farmer gives Mr. Worthy the letter J: Wor. Mr. Littlewor th, would you wish me to read it out? Far. Oh yes Sir, I should like that Mr. Conside- rate, and our Minister may hear it, that we may all con- sult together. ['The letter is read to the company.] bi “My dear wife, “* You must have heard from your brother Henry, how my wicked and unworthy life has been preserved, by that worthy gentleman, Mr. Lovely, the BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. 455 _ hkigh-sheriff who brought us a pardon from the Judge | just when we were all ordered to prepare for death. _ What a merciful man Mr Lovely has proved himseif _ to. be! And as to Mr. Lovegood, oh that I had not _ despised him as I have done! for [ am sure in des- _ pising such men, I have been setting at nought my _ own good, all my days. I now see and feel it was through the most vile wickedness of my heart, that the whole of my life has been so abominably profane. What Mr. Loyegood preaches from the pulpit, I now _ know must be true ; and the faith of his preaching has been so set before us in the wonderful change that has appeared on you Father, your Brother, and _ your Sister Nancy, as should shame us, while we _ eannot but admire what the grace of God has wrought on them. Oh! my dear Patty, let me intreat you no longer _ to beregardless of what your good old Father has to say. Do not grieve his heart, do not send him any _ more, as we have often done, with tears of sorrow to _ his bed, by neglecting family prayer, and by des- } f 5 1 pising his good advice. I know he was right, and that we were wrong ; tell him I beg his pardon in the most humble manner, for all that I have done to grieve him ; beg your aged Mother also to forgive me, and your Brother to pray forme. Oh what a happy life he has led, since God: has changed his | heart! and how comfortable he and his wife live } together! --and we might have been quite as happy as they, if it had not been through our own wicked natures, whereby we have been living in such perpe- _ tual and shameful neglect, of all the ways of a holy life.—1t was on this account, my dear wife, that I su _ frequently used you cruelly, and with so much unkind neglect ; while [ had to run after every abominable avil, far and wide: but now I most humbly request your forgiveness for what is passed. And oh! that God would change both your heart and mine, that if we are permitted to live together again, 456 DIALOGUE XLViI. we may live to see better days than ever we haye seen yet. Though my life has been spared, yet my circum- stances are ruined by my folly. Transportation, [ confess, I well deserve: and as to myself, I had rather be sent abroad, if I work as a slave, that I may get out of the reach of my wicked companions, lest 1 should be drawn into sin again, by those whe ean never cease from sin, till God shall change thei hearts. Now my dear wife, I would not wish to be so cruel as to desire you to go into banishment with me, unless Ihad some hope that God has so far given me to ab- hor my past life, so as, that I shall not be permitted — to return into my old ways of sin again. I am ashamed to desire you to consult with your Father, how far he would advise you to this step ; no wonder if he should at once determine that you never should go with such an abominable wretch as I have been: nor will I ask it, but as during my future con-— tinuance in this land, I should give evidence that _ my repentance is sincere. But remember my dear Patty, that you are my wife ; and that if God, in great mercy, should bless us both. with his convert- ing grace, as it is with your brother Henry and his wife, so you and I shall be happy wherever we may be sent. I have only one request further to make to you, my dear wife : I beseech you, at all times, go with your worthy Father to Brookfield Church : do not let your sister Polly keep you back ; her laughing and scoffing at religion, did me a deal of harm. Surely dear Mr. Lovegood is one of the best men that ever lived, his exhortations and prayers among the poor prisoners, will never be forgotten: he appeared more like an angel than aman. [Here Mr. Lovegood cried, 1 | cannot stand all this, and was going to leave the room; Mr. Worthy stopt him by saying, there was: scarce a line more about him, as the letter was just, BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. AST. ished ;] and by all accounts of his preaching in the _ assembly room, it had such an effect upon the people of the town, as never was known before; and they are very much grieved that all the Clergy did not ask him to preach in their Churches, but I fear it was their icked enyy that prevented them, while the bad lives of too many of the Clergy, greatly hardened mein my wicked ways. _ Present him with my most dutiful respects ; tell him I hope I shall never forget his good advice, to the day > ae death; and believe me to be, my dear wife, ough once your yery cruel, yet now, I trust, Your truly penitent And affectionate husband, WILLIAM FRo ie. t _ Wor. Really Sir, I should hope that the grace of God has reached the young man’s heart afterall. He confesses himself in language very becoming his situa- n. en Ob Sir! I hope the Lord in mercy has met vith him at last. It cost me mamy a tear before I could read his letter through: to We sure, there is a wonderful difference in the wild blade ; nothing is too mard for the Lord. But I don’t know what to say out my daughter’s going with him into transporta- tion : my poor wife is desperately afraid, lest he should turn back again into his old ways, and then the poor girl would be miserable, all the days of her life. _ Consid. Very true Mr. Littleworth; I would by no means determine upon any thing hastily. He has had enough to make him penitent for a while. If his repentance be genuins, it will be evidenced by his “bringing forth fruits, meet for repentance ;” but I think mnch should depend upon the feelings of your danghter’s own mind. _ Far. Why, I believe the poor silly girl loved him very much, and that was the cause of all her trou- bles ; and she would be willing to go with him, if she VOL. Il. OR 458 DIALOGUE XLVI. could thoroughly depend upon it, that he is an altered man. ee Consid. Under such circumstances, I would a your daughter, by all means, to go with him: T think their separation from each other, might be. attended with bad consequences. Besides, what the way of duty? they are ‘united for life; we ha no right even to propose a separation, while they are’ willing to continue in connexion with each others and from his present broken and contrite state of mind, we have much reason to hope that his repentance ma be sincere ; and if God in mercy does the same for her, they will be happy all the world over. Far. Though I should be sorry to have my daugh- ter so far from home, if she has not been the child T could have wished, yet I know that he will be in much less danger, if he were to be sent abroad, than if he were to continue within the reach of his rakish com- panions about home; ‘and he says the same in his let ter to Patty. Wor. But his staying in this country is nite out the question: thank God, that his life has heen spared; and what justice st iemands, he well deserves: ther is nothing left but t we do our best for him, till he! is sent abroad, and ‘by that time we shall better un-~ derstand the real state of his mind, and shall be able to determine, how far it may be adviseable for your daughter to attend him, or not. [To Mr. Lovegood. Come Sir, let us have a little of your advice on this occasion—what makes you so silent ? Loveg. Oh Sir, what ‘L only meant as private famil service and prayer, I find by William Frolic’s letter, is taken for public preaching all the town over: but if the people would come in, how could I preva them ? Wor. What are youfrightened at Mr. Bellweather’s. letter? are you afraid of a citation to the spiritual court? or are you sorry you did so much good in the town ? Loveg. Oh Sir! I don’t know what to say to it. BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. 459 Consid. Sir, from your own good sense, you must be satisfied that mere places are all the same before the eternal God ; and that there is no difference where good is done, provided it ke done, whether in a ball- room, or a play-house, a meeting-house, a cathedral, or a barn. __ Far. As our dear Minister preached with such won- derful suecessin the assembly-room, he shall be heartily welcome to preach in the large hall of our old house ; and, if that won't hold the people, I have a rare large barn, that will hold half the Parish, for I am sure the generality of the people in our town, are in a desperate ignorant state ; and Thomas Newman will be clerk; and pitch the tune, for he sings many a brave hymn, while he is thrashing. Loveg. Sir, do let us wave the present conversation ; we can hit upon a better subject. Wor. What can be a better subject than the great good you did in preaching in the assembiy-room? I am sure it was holy ground then, if it never was so before, when God was pouring down such an abund- ant blessing upon the hearers, But what do you mean by a better subject? cA Loveg. Oh! the endearing conduct of Mr. Lovely. Wor. Yes, you promised to tell us more of this, when you were obliged to leave us on Saturday even- ing last, Mrs. Wor. 1 remember you left us full of expecta- tion about him; I suppose it was some kind actions among the prisoners in the gaol. Hen. Why Sir, while I was exhorting the prisoners,. and praying with them, Mr. Lovely was very much struck with the young man I mentioned to yon on Saturday, who was in prison for debt, and who seemed to be so much more affected than any of the rest. Immediately he made enquiry from the gaoler and others, respecting his circumstances: it seems his name was Hyde, and he discovered, that though he might have got forward in a profitable line of business, as a Currier, and was very decently educated, yet from. a * 460 vE) DIALOGUE XLVII. | degree of misconduct, which arose more fro thoughtlessness, than intentional wickedness, and — which had also Jaid him open to the villany of others, he was cast into prison by the cruelty of only one of — his creditors, for a bond debt of a hundred pounds, — sand was thereby separated from his wife and four — children, who were all obliged to live nearly a starving life, on a smali jointure belonging to his wife’s mo- ther ; and because she would not give up that to pay this mercenary creditor, he not only threw him into gaol, bat was determined to keep him there, notwith- standing the rest of the creditors were willing to ac~ cept thirteen shillings in the pound, with a promise to pay all the rest, should itever be in his power. ~ Wor. Well, and as times go, this was an honorable composition. No doubt but that such a story would immediately captivate the attention’ of the tender- hearted Mr. Lovely, especially if he saw the young man broken and penitent under the evil of sin. And how did Mr. Lovely proceed ? os Loveg. After we took leave of the prisoners, who followed us with a thousand blessings, Mr. Lovely, on enquiry, found that this cruel voracious creditor, was possessed of a lease which his old uncle had purclased at a low rate, many years ago, which now only depended on one old infirm life. It seems the old miser was very fond of buying leases ot this sort, if he could get them at a cheap rate, ds he knew what their future advantages would be ; and by a clause in his will, Mr. Lovely is prevented from re- newing them, so that it is probable he will be twice as rich as his uncle was, notwithstanding his liberality, if he lives a few years longer. rin Wor. Pray who was this hard-hearted wretch? Loveg. Sir, his name is Squeezer, his family it seems, originally came from Grediton ; he is a patent screw maker; and Mr. Lovely would insist upon it, that I should go with him immediately from the gaol to his house. He did not at first let him know who he was; only began after his mild style and “wee ; BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. 461 _ manner, to expostulate with him on the injustice of _ attempting to extort from a poor widow, her daughter and her children, that which in conscience he had no right to expect, or demand; and that he ought te accept the same compromise offered by the rest of the creditors. Supposing him: to be some lawyer's clerk, that Mr. Hyde had sent to him, he began blus- tering about, asking what business it was of his? and declaring he would see him rot in gaol, unless he paid the whole of the debt, and the lawyer’s expences into the bargain. Immediaiely Mr. Lovely, fired in a man- _ ner IE never saw him before,* though I could not but admire the cause of his displeasure, yet I had my fears, lest, contrary to the natural suavity of his tem- per, he might have gonea little toofar. He directly told his, name, while Mr. Squeezer colored up to his ears, and then added, “‘ Sir, I give you to understand, that if you do not come into the compromise with the rest of the creditors, Ill turn screw-maker as well as yourself; and if you don't liberate the young man directly, who has been cast into prison by your bond, as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, Fil serew you tight enough, by doubling and trebling your rent directly as the lease drops, or turn you and your screws into the streets.” Mr. Squeezer said,. “Sir, Pll consider of it.” Lovely fired’again, “ Sir, you shali have no time to consider of it, I'll have the young man out of prison before three o’clock, at the’ very latest, as by then I must ledve the town. Wor. Well, I must confess this was a delightful- way of falling into a passion, on so good acause. You know what St. Anthony discovered, that there was no taking the Devil by the nose, but with a pair of. tongs ; and how did matters succeed ? : _ Loveg. Sir, within about an hour afterwards, alli things were completely settled, and his discharge was actually procured. The young man wanted to ran home to his wife and family directly ; for though ‘he’ » I believe he was angry and'sinned not.- om - your husband some further advice, for your future — 462 DIALOGUE XLVII.. had been thoughtless and giddy, yet he was of an affectionate disposition. However, Mr. Lovely in= sisted upon it, that he and his family, should come — and dine with him at the inn, as he wanted to give — them all some further advice; andto see the rapture — and astonishment of the youth, while be followed his — kind deliverer to the inn, is not to be teseribed. Mr. Lovely ordered a plentiful repast, ana sent a note to the young man’s wife and her mother, requesting their attendance, as they might hear of something — considerably to their advantage. ‘“f ig Mrs. Wor. Whata meeting this must have been! — Loveg. Quite as affecting as any we had before in — the gao!, though of a very different sort. After the — young man had been with us about a quarter of an — hour, the mother and daughter, and her two children — came in—-the daughter, the young man’s wife, ran to her husband, and cried “Oh my dear! what are you here ? Tell me how it was that you could get out of © prison!” He answered, ‘‘ That: dear gentleman has — procured. me my release.” She immediately cried, — * —— 464 DIALOGUE XLVI. something to begin your business anew—here is fifty. pounds for you, and as I wish you to go to work di- rectly, having given you one fifty, 1 shall lend you — fifty more ; nor shall J hastily demand the debt, if you are more attentive, industrious, and diligent for the time to come. . ties Consid. With what wisdom, zeal, and liberality this incomparable young gentleman conducts him- self in all his noble acts of charity! what Minister upon earth could have given better advice, as it re- lates to our social and relative connexions through life ! jae Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.] Why Sir, he quite took your office as an exhorter out of your hands. Loveg. Indeed Sir, none of us had power to say a single word, we were all so struck and surprised, And it was much more consistent that he should — give the advice, by whose liberality the young man was redeemed from ruin, and restored to the enjoy-— ment of the comforts of life, from which he was soe cruelly debarred. But 1 have not told. you ali yet, While his poor wife was weeping with astonishment and surprise, quite overcome with gratitude, he im- mediately cried, ‘‘ Madam, you must not be so downcast—I was once afflicted by some family dif ‘ficulties as well as yourself: drink another glass of wine, and see how that reads.” She attempts it and fails. He cries, “‘ Madam, it is only another twenty pound Bank-note from Mrs. Lovely: she is one 0. the most tender-hearted women on the earth, and I should be sure to have one of her good-natured lee- tures, if I did not communicate a present from her to you.” And this most elegant and affectionate method of administering relief, instead of: drying our eyes, affected us more than ever. . And just then, one of the little children who came with the mother to meet the husband, not capable of understanding the cause of our being so affected, ran to the mother and cried, ‘“‘ Old Squeezer sha’nt'send my dear papa again to gaol ;” expressing its grief in such affecting, = BENEVOLENCE TRIUMPHANT. 465 language as might be expected from a child, who just began to feel a parent’s worth, and a parent's grief. This put Mr. Lovely in mind of another method of displaying his easy, pleasant way of grati- fying the feelings of his most generous heart. He called the little child to him, and said, “‘ No my dear, Old Squeczer sha’nt take away your dear papa any more : and here is some money for you to buy a great strong lock and key, to lock old Squeezer out, whenever he comes your way,” thereby putting five guineas more into their possession. Mrs. Wor. What a princely mind he has! T wish his generosity may not out-run his income! Loveg. Oh no Madam, when I ventured to give him a check, he said that as their family expences did not equal half his fortune, as a plain, retired, though hospitable way of living suited them best, such ocea- sional exertions were by no means beyond his income: and that he should make it up a round hundred before he left town: so he sent for Mr. Workman, the dis- senting Minister, as he heard he was very diligent, while others were very lazy in preaching the gospel im the villages in those parts, and gave him five pounds for the poor, five pounds to assist him in his itinerant expences, and ten pounds for himself, as he found his family large, and the congregation that supported him, principally among the poor. Wor. Noble! He forgot Mr. Belweather I suppose? Loveg. Yes Sir, and we had better all forget him. Mrs. Wor. What a delightful youth ! and they say his other uncle, notwithstanding his displeasure about _ his marriage, means to make him his heir ; if so, it will fall into excellent hands. If you have any thing mre to say about him, let us hear all you can. Loveg. 1 recollect nothing further than that Mr. Cater, the inn-keeper’s son, who was so much af- fected, and more so, when he waited on us during our last dinner ; that he would sacrifice all his expecta- tions, provided he might but follow him wherever he went; that if he were only permitted to be his foot- { ‘ 466 DIALOGUE XLVIL man, or even his shoeblack, he should be ial to serve him, especially as living i in such a public li though not an unlawful occupation in itself, yet on i still exposed him to so many temptations, he. felt him- self exceedingly anxious to relinquish it, as soon as he could. Wor. Vll warrant he added him to his train. Loveg. I believe not : he advised him by all means to continue in the same situation, as decent and or- derly inns, were a great accommodation to the public. Wor. Tam told, he has manifested the same bene- — volent disposition towards his present housekeeper, since he has come to his fortune ; that she was a pé son of a very respectable character ; and though she brought her husband a decent fortune, and had two children by him, yet the worthless villain submitted to the intrigues of a female servant, whereby her: ruin was completely accomplished. Consid. What astonishing evils arise from these ' adulterous amours ! Wor. Such was the case in this instance; for this. artful wretch persuaded the man to forsake the house where they then were, and live at a distance, as he had the fortune of this unhappy woman to live upon as they liked. Thus this monster of a fellow, left his wife and two children without a single shilling for their support. Far. What devils in human shape some people are! Wor. Directly however, as Mr. Lovely heard of this story, he sent for the forsaken woman, treated her — more like a sister than a servant, and provides for the — children also. Mrs. Mer. The lord bless him with a thousand times more! I never shall forget the many anxious enquiries he sent after my dear husband, while he was ill; and when he came to condole with mesafter my heavy loss, dear man, he could not speak a word with- out a tear. Loveg. No wonder at it, dear Madam; they were: hinadtend. spirits as far as dear Mr. Merryman’ $ circums=_ BENEVOLENCE FRIUMPHANT. 467 stances would allow. After his heart was under the influences. of divine grace, he was quite another Lovely. Whatever he did, was done with such sim- plicity and zeal, and devotedness to God, as perhaps in so short a time, was scarce ever exemplified before. Mrs. Mer: Ahme! I twice told him, that if he went on so fast, we should have scarcely enough to pay our weekly housekeeping acounts; and three times over dear Mr. Lovely sent us ten pounds to be distributed among the poor, just about the time when his generous heart had led him a little beyond the mark. And I must confess, that my religious educa- tion only instructed me to be decent, till I saw the wonderful effects of real religion upon my dear hus- band’s heart. (A deep sigh fetches a tear.) Oh my loss ! I cannot talk any more about him. Wor. We must out of respect to my daughter's _feelings, suspend the present conversation, and en- quire if you have any thing farther to relate about this amiable pair. eee While the company were thus occupied in conver- sation respecting these delightful youths, they were surprised by an express sent by Mr. Lovely to Brook- field-hall, announcing the death of his rich uncle ot Grediton ; and that, though he had left a large por- tion of his ill-gotten wealth to bad women, and _base- born children, yet that the greater part of the family estate, which at least doubled his former income, was bequeathed to him. The purport of the express was to request a speedy interview, that he might be favored with the advice of Mr. Worthy, and blessed with the prayers of Mr. Lovegood, as he felt how much he needed both of wisdom and grace, to expend all this accumulated wealth to the glory of God. The Reader may easily judge what a large field again opens before us from this new event, for other dialogues. Such wealth, im such hands, and under such circumstances, could net but produce matter 468 DIALOGUE XLVI a for fresh volumes, of the most pleasing and interest- ing detail: but where then shall weend? I fear, lest these, my dramatic attempts, should swell beyond *he size of an easy purchase. Rather then let the Reader’s imagination be left with some further scope _ for the exercise of his contemplative faculties, on all such displays of mercy and benevolence, in which — such a delightful youth would naturally abound. All — is summed up in one passage from the sacred word, and with that passage I close the scene, and give my kind and patient Readers, an affectionate adieu. « Finally brethren, whatsoever things are true, what- soever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are — lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there — be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on these — things—and the God of peace shall be with you.” ‘ PINKS, ¥ - : j oa : i Pun 7 - S Pe : ' ‘ > Wwe, ; i t pal ns p ' 2 r, DATE DUE ~~ tie 2 BALD A tne) cnlinanatlas DEMCO 38-297 . xegoorrzod