THE 
 
 TWO SHOEMAKER 
 
 IN I \ E FARTS. 
 
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THE 
 
 TWO SHOEMAKERS. 
 
 i w i ■ mil" in v ii 11 mm— mi 1 1 1 
 
 J ACK BROWN and JAMES STOCK, were two lade 
 'apprenticed at nearly the same time, to Mr. Williams, a 
 •'Shoemaker, in a small town in Oxfordshire — they were 
 ..pretty near the same age, but of very different characters 
 and dispositions. 
 
 Blown was eldest son to a farmer in good circumstances, 
 who gave the usual apprentice fee with him. Being a -wild 
 giddy boy, whom his father could not well manage or in- 
 struct in farming, he thought it better to send him out to 
 learn a trade at a distance, than to let him idle about at home, 
 .for Jack always preferred bird's nesting and marbles to any 
 -other employment : and would trifle away half the day when 
 his father thought he was at school, wi»h any boys he could 
 meet with, who were as idle as himself; and never could 
 be prevailed upon to do, or to learn any thing, while a game 
 at taw could be had for love or money. Aft this time his 
 little brothers, much younger than him-self, were beginning 
 to follow the plow, or to carry the Corn. to mill as soon as 
 they were able to mount a cart' horse. 
 
 Jack, however, who was a lively boy, and did not natu- 
 rally want either sense or good-nature, aiight have turned 
 out well enough, if he had not had the misfortune to be his 
 mother's favourite. She concealed and 1 forgave all his faults. 
 —To be sure, he was a little wild, she would say, but he 
 would not make the worse man for that, for Jack had a' good 
 spirit of his own, and she would not have it broke, and 
 
 so make a mope of the boy. The farmer, for a quiet 
 
 S as it is called; gave up all the^e poiuL to his wife ; and 
 
The Two Shoemakers. 
 
 with them, gave up the future virtue and happiness of his 
 child. He was a laborious and industrious man, hut he had 
 ~Jigio.ii : he th Might only of the gains and advantages of 
 ;nt clay, and never took the future Into account. 
 H iged him entirely, and as she was really no- 
 
 3id not trouble his head about anv thing farther.— 
 had been careless in her dairy, he would have stormed 
 vofn ; but as she only ruined one child by indulgence, 
 and almost broke the hearts of the rest by unkindness, he 
 • e himself little concern about the matter. 1 'he cheese, 
 :ainly, was good, and that indeed is a great point ; but 
 e was neglectful of her children, and a tyrant to her ser- 
 vants . Her husband's substance, indeed, was not wasted, 
 but his happiness was not consulted. His house, it is true, 
 was not dirty, but it was the abode of fury, ill-temper, and 
 covetousness. And the farmer, though he did not care for 
 drink, was too often driven to the public house in an even- 
 ing, because his own was neither quiet nor comfortable.— 
 The mother was always scolding, and the children were al- 
 ways crying. 
 
 Jack, however, notwithstanding his idleness, picked up I 
 a little reading and writing, but never could learn to cast J 
 an account ; that was too much labor. His mother was de- 
 sirous he should continue at school, not so much for the 
 sake of his learning, which she had not sense enough to va- 
 lue, but to save her darling from the fatigue of labour; fori 
 if he had not gone to school, she knew he must have gone rot 
 work, and she thought the former was the least tiresome 
 the two. Indeed this foolish woman had such, an opinion oi 
 his genius, that she used, from a child, to think he was toe 1 
 wise for any thing but a parson, and hoped she should M 
 .to sec him one. She did not wish to see her son a mini- 
 because she loved either learning or goodness, but becaii< 
 she thought it wouM make Jack a gentleman, and set himj 
 a'/Ove his brothers. 
 
 Farmer Biovvn. s-tili hopei^ that though Jack was Kfejj 
 ! make but an $e and ignorant farmer, yet Jie might taw 
 ad tradesman, when 1 e should be removed from the mj 
 ' -nces of a r ^ and from a" silly mother, 
 
 iseTor ,*e r n every thing. This won* 
 
 ; a when she found that so fine a scholar, as s 
 
The two Swtinakers* 
 
 5 
 
 took Jack to be, was to be put apprentice to a shoemaker.— 
 The farmer however for the first time in his life, would 
 have his own way. But being a worldly man, and too apt 
 to mind only what is falsely called ' the main chance,' in- 
 stead of being careful to look ■ at for a sober, prudent, ami 
 religious master for his son, he left all that to accident, as if 
 it had been a thing of little or no consequence. This is a 
 very common fault, and fathers who are guilty of it, are in 
 a great measure answerable for the future sins and errors of 
 their children, when they grow up in the world, and set up 
 for themselves. If a man g.ves his son a good education, a 
 good example, and a good master, it is indeed possible that 
 the son may not turn out well, but it does not often hap- 
 pen ; and when it does, the father has no blame resting on 
 pirn ; and it is great point towards a man's comfort to have 
 his conscience quiet in that respect, however God may think 
 fit to over-rule events. 
 
 The farmer, however, took care to desire his frienck to 
 inquire for a shoemaker who had good business, and was a 
 good workman ; and the mother did not forget to put in her 
 word, and desired that it might be one who was not 'too 
 strict for Jack had been brought up tenderly, was a meek 
 boy, and could not bear to be contradicted in any thing.— 
 And this is the common notion of meekness among people 
 who know no better. 
 
 Mr. Williams was recommended to the farmer as being 
 the best shoemaker in the town in which he lived, and far 
 from a strict master ; and, without farther enquiries, to Mr. 
 Williams he went. 
 
 James Stock, who was the son of an honest labourer in 
 the next village, was bound out by the parish in considera- 
 tion of his father having so numerous a family, the* he was 
 not able to put him out himself. James was in every thing 
 the very reverse of his new companion. Pie was a modest: 
 industrious pious youth ; and though so poor, and the child 
 of a laborer, was a much better scholar than Ja'ck, wha 
 was a wealthy fanner's son. His father had, it is tiue, 
 been able to give him but very little schooling, for he was" 
 obliged to be put to work when quite a child. When very 
 young he used to run of errands for Mr. Thomas the cu- 
 rate of the parish ; a yery kind hearted young gentleman, 
 
6 The two 8/wemaJccrs. 
 
 who boarded next door to his father's cottage. He vised 
 so to rub down and saddle his horse, and do any other Utile 
 job for him, in the most civil obliging manner. All this 
 so recommended him to the clergVman, that he wduld often 
 send tor hhn in of an evening, after he had done his day's 
 Work in the field, and condescended to teach him himself to 
 write and cist : accounts, as well as to instruct him in f;v 
 principles of his religion. It was not merely out of kiriefness 
 for the little good-natured services James did him, that 
 ^ he shewed him this favor, but also for his readiness in the 
 N catechism, and his devout behaviour at church. 
 
 The first thing that drew the minister's attention to this 
 boy., was the following-— He. had frequently given him 
 halfpence and pence for holding his horse and carry ing' him 
 to water, before he was big enough to be further useful to 
 him. On Chrisrmas-clay, he was surprised to see James at 
 church, reading out of a handsome new prayer-book ; lie 
 wonderecl.how he came by it, for he knew there was. nobo- 
 dy. in ihg, parish likely to have given it to him, for at that 
 time there were no Sunday-schools, and the father could not 
 afford it he. was sure. 
 
 Well, James, said he, as he saw him when they came oiif, 
 you made a good figure at church to-.day ; it made vbu look 
 like a man and a christian, not only to have so handsome a 
 book, but to be so ready in -all parts of the service. How 
 came you by that book r James owned modestly, that he 
 had been a whole year in saving up the money by single half- 
 pence, all of which had been of the minister's own giving, 
 and that in all that time he had not spent a single farthing on 
 hrs own diversions. My dear boy, said good Mr, Thomas, 
 I am much mistaken if thou dost not turn out well, in the 
 world, for two reasons: — first, from thy saving turn and 
 self-denying temper; and next, because ' thou didst devote 
 the first eighteen pence thou wast ever worth in the world 
 to so good a purpose. 
 
 James bowed and" blushed, and from that time Mr. Tho- 
 mil?, began to take more notice of him, and to instruct him 
 as I said above. As James grew soon able to do him more 
 considerable service, he would now and then'give him six- 
 pence. This he constantly saved till it became a little sum, 
 with which he bought shoes and stockings, w 7 eil-knowing 
 
The fmo Shoe maker?. 
 
 that his poor father, with a hard family and low wages, 
 kdold not buy them for him. As to what little money he 
 earned himself by his daily labour in the held, he constantly 
 carried it to his mother every Saturday night, to buy bread 
 for the family, which was a pretty help to them. 
 
 As James was not over-stout in his make, his father 
 thankfully accepted the offer of the parish officers to bind his 
 rson out to a trade. This good man, however, had not, like 
 Farmer Brown, the liberty of choosing n master for his son, 
 .or he would carefully have enquired if he was a proper man 
 to have the care of youth ; but Williams the shoemaker was 
 ^already fixed on, by those -who were to put the boy out, and 
 if he wanted a master it must be him or none; for the over- 
 seers had a better opinion of Will in ins than he deserved, and 
 thought it would be the making of the boy to go to him.-— 
 The father knew that beggars must not be choosers, so he 
 
 ob .... 
 
 fitted out James for his new place, having indeed little to 
 give him besides his blessing. 
 
 The worthy Mr. Thomas, however, kindly gave him an 
 old coat and waistcoat, which his mother, who was a neat 
 and notable woman, contrived to make up for him herself, 
 without a farthing expence, and when it was turned and 
 made fit for his size, it made him a very handsome suit for 
 Sundays, and lasted him a couple of years. 
 
 And here, let me stop and remark what a pity it is, that 
 poor women so seldom are able or willing to do these sort of 
 little handy jobs themselves; and that they do not oftener 
 bring up their daughters to be more useful in family work. 
 They are great loosens by it everyway, not only as they are 
 disqualifying their girls from making good wives hereafter, 
 but they are loosers in point of present advantage; for gen- 
 tlefolks could much oftener afford to give a poor boy a 
 jacket or a waistcoat, if it was not for the expence of mak- 
 ing it, which atlas very much to the cost. To my certain 
 knowledge, many poor women would often get an old coat, 
 or bit of coarse new cloth given them to fit out a boy, if 
 the motheis or sisters were known to be able to cut it out to* 
 advantage, and to make it decently themselves. But halt-a- 
 crown for the making a bit of coarse kersey, which costs 
 but a few shillings, is "more than many very charitable gen- 
 try can afford to give — so they often give nothing at all* 
 
The two Shoemakers 
 
 when they see the mothers so little able to turn it to adtran- 
 tage. It is hoped they will take this bint kindly, as it i s 
 meant for their good. 
 
 But to return to our two young shoemakers. They were 
 both now settled at Mr. WiVliams's, who, as he was known 
 to be a good workman, had plenty of business, lie I.-, 
 sometimes two or three journeymen, "but no apprentices but 
 Jack and James. 
 
 Jack, who, with all his faults, was a keen, smart boy, 
 took to learn the trade quick enough, but the difficulty was 
 to make him stick two hours together to his work. At "even, 
 noise he heard in the street, down went the work, the last 
 one way, the upper-leather another — the sole dropped on the 
 ground, and the thread he dragged after him all the way up 
 the street. If a blind fiddler* a ballad singer, a mountebank, 
 a dancing bear, or a drum were heard at a distance, outran 
 Jack, nothing could stop him, aud not a stitch more could he 
 be prevailed on to do that day. Every duty, every promise 
 was forgot, for the present pleasure — he could not resist the 
 smallest temptation — he never stopped a moment to consider 
 whether a thing was right or wrong, but whether he liked it 
 or disliked it. And as his ill-judging mother took care to 
 send him privately a §pod supply of pocket-monev, that 
 deadly bane to all youthful virtue, he had generally a few 
 pence ready to spend, and to indulge in the present diversion 
 whatever it was. And what was still worse even than spend- 
 ing his money, he spent his time too, or rather his master's 
 time. Of this he was continually reminded by fames, to 
 whom he always answered, What have you t& complain 
 about? It is nothing to you or any one else; I spend no- 
 body's money but my own. — That may be, replied the other, 
 but you cannot say it is your own ' time' that you spend.— 
 He insisted upon it that it was, but James fetched down 
 their indentures, and there shewed him that he had solemnly 
 bound himself, by that instrument, not to waste his master's 
 property. Now, quoth James, 6 thy own time is a very 
 
 * valuable part of thy master's property.' To this he replied, 
 Every one's time was his own, and he should not sit moping 
 all day over his last — for his part, he thanked God i he was 
 
 * no parish 'prentice.' 
 
The tzro Shoemakers. g 
 
 James did not resent this piece of foolish impertinence, as 
 some silly lads would have done ; nor fly out into a vio- 
 lent passion — for even at this early age, he had begun to 
 learn of him 4 who was meek and lowly of heart and there- 
 fore ' when he was reviled he revikd not again.' On the 
 contrary he was so very kind and gentle^ that even Jack, vain 
 and idleashc was, could not help 1 >ving him, though he lock 
 care never to follow his advice. 
 
 Jack's fondness for his boyish and silly diversions in the 
 street, soon produced the effects which might naturally be 
 expected, and the same idleness which led hign to fW out in- 
 to the town, at the sound of a fiddle, or the sight of a pup- 
 pet show, soon led him to those places where all these fid- 
 dles and shows naturally lead, I mean the Ale-House. The 
 acquaintance picked up in the street, was carried on at the 
 Greyhound, and the idlepastimes of the boy soon leu to the 
 destructive vices of the man. 
 
 As he was not an ill-tempered youth, nor naturally much 
 given to drink : a sober and prudent master, who had been 
 . steady in his management, and regular in his own conduct, 
 who had recommended good advice by a good example, 
 might have made something of Jack. But I am sorry to say' 
 that Mr. Williams though a good workman, and not a very 
 hard or severe master, was neither a sober nor a steady 
 man— so far from it, that he spent much more time at the 
 Greyhound than at home. There was no order either in his 
 shop or family. He left the chief care of the buskiess to his 
 two young apprentices— and being but a worldly man, he 
 was at first disposed to shew favor to Jack much more than 
 to James, because he had more money, and his Father was 
 better in the world than the father of poor James. 
 
 At first, therefore, he was disposed to consider James as 
 a sort of drudge, who was to do all the menial work of the 
 family, and he did not care how little he taueht him of his 
 trade. With Mrs. Williams the matter was still worse- 
 she constantly called him away from the business of his trade 
 to wash the house, nurse the child, turn the spit, or run of 
 errands. And here I must remark, that though parish an 
 prentices are bound in duty to be submissive to both master 
 and mistress, and always to make themselves as useful as thev 
 can in a family, and are to be civil and hinxible • V et on 
 
10 
 
 The tico Shoemakers. 
 
 the other hand, it is the duty of masters always to remembci, 
 that if they arc paid for instructing them in their trade, they 
 ougfvt conscientiously to ins cruet them in it, and not to em. 
 ploy them the greater part of their time in such household 
 or other drudgery, as to deprive them of the opportunity of 
 acquiring their trade. 
 
 Mr. WilliamS soon found out that his favourite Jack 
 would he of little use to him in the shop, for though he 
 worked well enough, he did not care how little he did. Nor 
 couid he be of the least use to his master in keeping an ac - 
 count, or writing out a bill upon occasion ; for, as he nevei 
 could be made to learn to cypher, he did not know addition 
 from multiplication. 
 
 One day one of the customers called at the shop in a great 
 hurry, and desired his bill might be made out that minute ; 
 Mr. Williams, having taken a cup too much, made several 
 attempts to put down a clear account, but the more he tried, 
 the less he found himself able to do it. James, who was 
 sitting at his last, rose up, and with great modesty, asked his 
 master if lie would please to give him leave to make out the 
 bill, paying, that though but a poor scholar, he would do his 
 best, rather than keep the gentleman waiting. Williams 
 gladly accepted his offer, and confused as his head was with 
 Jiquor, he vet was able to observe with what neatness, dis- 
 patch, and exactness,' the account was drawn out. From, 
 ffial time he no longer considered James as a drudge, but as 
 one fitted for the higher employments of the trade, and he 
 vtzs now regularly employed to manage the accounts, with 
 ^ich all the customers w r ere so well pleased, that it contri- 
 buted greatly to raise him in his master's esteem ; for there 
 were now never any of those blunders or false charges, for 
 -which the shop had been so famous. 
 
 James went on in a regular course' of industry, and soon 
 became the best workman Mr. Williams had, but there were; 
 many things in the family which he greatly disapproved.-* 
 Some of the- journeymen used to swear, drink, and sing verfj 
 Kcentiou* songs. All these things were a great grief to htf| 
 sober mil id ; he complained to his master, who only laugh'j 
 *d at him ; and indeed as Williams did the same himself, 
 put it out of his own power to correct his servants, i( be W 
 heen so disposed. James, however, used always to repi° v \ 
 
The frvQ Shoemaker!:. j | 
 
 them with great mildness indeed, but with great 'seriousness 
 also. This, but still more his own excellent example, pro- 
 duced at length very good effects on such of die men as~ were 
 Jijpt quite hardened in sin. 
 
 What grieved him most was the manner in which the Sun- 
 day was spent. The mastei lay in bed all the morning, nor 
 did the mother or her children ever go to church, except there 
 was some new finery to be shewn, or a christening to be at- 
 tended. The town's people were 'coming to the' shop all the 
 morning fori work which should have been sent home the 
 Slight before, had not the master been at the ale house. And 
 what wounded James to the very soul was, that the master 
 expected the two apprentices to carry home shoes to the 
 Country customers on the Sunday morning, which he wick- 
 edly thought was a saving of time, as it prevented their hin- 
 dering their work on the Saturday. These snamcful prac- 
 tices greatly afflicted poor James ; he begged his master with, 
 tears in bis eyes to excuse him, but heSnly laughed at his 
 squeamish conscience, as he called it. 
 
 / Jack did not dislike this part of the business, and generally 
 after he had deli vered his parcel, wasted good part of the day, 
 in nutting, playing at fives, or dropping in at the public- 
 hduse — any thing was better than 'gfn'ng'to church. 
 
 James, on the other hand,, when he was- compelled, sore- 
 ly against his conscience, to carry home any, goods of a Sun- 
 day morning, always grit up as soon as kwas Vight, knelt 
 down, and prayed heai tily to God to 'forgive him a sin which 
 it Was not in his power to avoid ; he took care not to lose a 
 moment, by the way, but as he was taking his walk with the 
 utmost speed, to leave his shoes with the customers, he spent 
 his time in. endeavouring to keep up good thoughts in his 
 mmd, and praying thaT the day might come when his con- 
 Science might be delivered from this grievous burthen. He 
 was now particularly thankful; that MY. Thomas had former- 
 ly taught him so many. psalms and chapters, which he used 
 to repeat rn these walks with great devotion. 
 
 He al ways, got home before the rest of tire family was up, 
 dressed himself very clean, and went twice to church, and 
 as he greatly disliked the company and practices of his mas- 
 ter spouse, particularly on the 'Sabbath day, he preferred 
 spending his-evcning- alone, reading his Bible, wlvch I forgot 
 
1$ i he uco Shoa/iftkcrs, 
 
 ■ 
 
 to say the worthy clergyman had given him when he left his 
 native village. Sunday evening, which is to some people 
 such a burthen, was to James the highest holiday, lie bad 
 formerly learnt a little how to to sing a.psalm of the clerk of 
 his own parish, and this was now become n very delighted 
 part of his evening exercise. And as Will Slmpsofi, one of 
 the journeymen, by James's advice and example, was now 
 beginning to be of a more serious way of thinking, he often 
 asked him to sit an hour w T kh him, when they read the Bi- 
 ble, and talked it over together in a manner very pleasant and 
 improving — and as Will was a famous singer, a psalm or 
 two sung together, was a very in accent pleasure. 
 
 James's good manners and civility to the customers drew 
 much business to the shop, and his skill as a workman was 
 so great, that every one desired his shoes might be made by 
 James. Williams grew so very idle and negligent, that he 
 now totally neglected his affairs, and to hard drinking added 
 deep gaming. All James's care, both of the shop and the 
 accounts, could not keep things in any tolerable order : — he 
 represented to his master that they were growing worse and 
 worse, and exhorted him* if he valued his credit as a trades- 
 man, his comfort as a husband anil father, his character as a 
 master, and his soul as a christian, to turn over a new leaf. 
 Williams swore a great oath that he would not be restrained 
 in his pleasures to please a canting parish 'prentice, nor to 
 humour a parcel of squalling brats — that let people say what 
 they would of him, thev should never say he was a hypocrite 
 and as long as thev could not call him that, he did not care 
 what else they called him. 
 
 In a violent passion he immediately went to the Grey- 
 hound, where he now spent not only every evening, whirl) 
 he had long done, but good part of the day and night also.— 
 His wife was very dressy, extravagant, and fond of company, 
 and spent at home as fast as her husband did abroad, so that 
 all the neighbors, said, if it had not been for James, his mas- 
 ter must have broke long ago, but they were sure he could 
 not hold it much longer. 
 
 As Jack Brown sung a good song, and played many divert- 
 ing tricks, Williams liked his company, and often allowed 
 him to make one at the Greyhound, where he would laugh 
 heartily at his stories, so that every one thought Jack \vai 
 
The f:co Shoemakers. }$ 
 
 much the orcatcr favoiite — so he was asa companion in fro- 
 lic, foolery, and pleasure, as it is called; but he would not 
 mist him 'with an inch of leather or sixpence in money — no, 
 y w hen business was to be done, or trust was to be re- 
 posed. James was the man: the idle and the drunken never 
 tru.t one another, if they have common sense. They like 
 to laugh* and sing, and riot, and drink together; but when 
 they want a friend, a counsellor, a help in business, or in 
 trouble, they go farther a-field; and Williams, while he 
 would drink with Jack, would trust James with untold gold, 
 and even was foolishly tempted to neglect his business the 
 more from knowing that he had one who wa« taking care of 
 it. 
 
 In spite of all James's care and diligence, however, things 
 were growing worse and worse: the more James saved, the 
 more his master and mistress spent. One morning, just as 
 the shop was opened, and James had set every body to their 
 respective work, and he himself was settling the business for 
 the day, he found that his master was not yet come from the 
 Greyhound. As this was now become a common case, he 
 only grieved, but did not wonder at it. While he was in- 
 dulging sad thoughts on what would be the end of all this, £11 
 ran the tapster from the Greyhound out of breath, and with a 
 look of terror and dismay, desired James would step over to 
 the public-house with him that moment, for that his master - 
 wanted him. 
 
 James went immediately, surprized at this unusual mes- 
 sage. When he got into the kitchen of the public house, 
 which he now entered tor the first time in his life, though it 
 was just opposite the house in which he lived, he was shocked 
 at the beastly disgusting appearance of every thing which he 
 beheld. There was a table covered with tankards, punch- 
 bowls, broken glasses, pipes, and dirty greasy packs of cards, 
 and all over wet with liquor; the floor was strewed with 
 broken earthen cups, odd cards,and an K O table shivered 
 to pieces in a quarrel — behind the table stood a croud of dirty 
 fellows, with matted locks, hollow eyes, and faces smeared 
 with tobacco; James made his wav after the tapster, through 
 this wretched looking crew, to a settle which stood in the 
 chimney corner. Not a word was uttered, but the silent 
 horror seemed to denote something more than a mere com- 
 mon drunken bout. 
 
The tico Shoemakers. 
 
 What was the dismay of James when he.saw his miserable 
 .master sketched out on the settle in .all the agonies of death 1 
 He nad fallen into a ht, after having drank hai'd best part of 
 the nignt, and seemed to have but a .few minutes to live. In 
 his frightful ccuntenance was displaypd the dreadful picture 
 of sin and death ;.for he struggled at once under the gm\t of 
 intoxication, and the pangs of a dying man. He recovered 
 his .senses for a few moments, and called out to ask if his 
 faithful servant was come : James went up to him, took him 
 by hie cold hand, but was too much moved to speak. Oh ! 
 James, James, cried he in a broken voice, pray for me, com- 
 fort me. James spoke kindly to him, hut was too honest to 
 give him false comfort, as is too often done by mistaken 
 friends in these dreadful moments. 
 
 James, said he, I have been a bad master to you — you 
 would have saved my sou) and body, but I would not let you 
 —I have ruined my wife, my children, and my own soul.— 
 Take warning, Oh! take warning by my miserable end, saicf 
 he to his stupified companions ; but none were able to attend 
 to him but James, who bid him lift up his heart to God, and 
 prayed heaatily for him himself. Oh ! said the dying man, 
 it is too late, too hue for me -but you have still time, said 
 he to the halMnmken terrintd crew around him. Where is 
 Jack ? Jack Brown came forward, but was too much fright- 
 ened to speak. O wretched boy, said he, I fear I shall 
 have the ruin of thy soul, as well as my own, to answer for 
 Stop short ! — Take warning— now, in the days of thy youth. 
 O James, James, thou dest not pray for me. Death is 
 dreadful to the wicked — O the sting of death to a guilty con- 
 science!— Here he lifted up his ghastly eves in ^speechless 
 horror, grasped hard the hand of James'', gave a deep hollow 
 groan, and closed his eyes never to open them but in an aw- 
 ful eternity. 
 
 This was death in all its honors ! The gay companions 
 of his sinful pleasures could not stand the sight ; all slunk 
 away like guilty thieves from their late favourite friend— no 
 one was left to assist him, but his two apprentices. Brown 
 was not so hardened but that he shed many tears for his un- 
 happy master, and even made some hasty resolutions pi 
 amendment, which were too soua forgotten. 
 
The tuo Shoemakers. J 5 
 
 While Biovvn stepped home to call the workmen to come 
 and assist in lemoving their poor master, James staid alone 
 with the corpse, and employed those awful moments in in- 
 dulging the most serious thoughts, and prayed heartily to 
 God, that so terrible a lesson might not be thrown away 
 upon him, but that he might be enabled to live in a constant 
 state of preparation for death. The resolutions he made at 
 this moment, as they were not made in his own strength, but 
 in an humble reliance on God's gracious help, were of use 
 to him as long as he lived ; and if ever he was for a moment 
 tempted to say, or do a wrong thing, the remembrance of 
 his poor dying master's last agonies, and the dreadful words 
 he utterred, always instantly checked him. 
 
 When Williams was buried, and his affairs came to b$ 
 enquired into, they were found to be in a sad condition. His 
 wife, indeed, was the less to be pitied, as she had contributed 
 her full share to the common ruin. James, however, did 
 pity her, and by his skill in accounts, his known honesty, 
 and the trust the creditors put in his word, things came to be 
 settled rather better then Mrs. Williams expected. 
 
 Both Brown and James were now within a month or two 
 of being out of their time. The creditors, as was said be- 
 fore, employed James to settle his late master's accounts, 
 which he did in a manner so creditable to his abilities, and 
 his honesty, that they proposed him to take the shop himself. 
 He assured them it was utterly out of his power for want of 
 money As the ci editors had not the least fear of being re- 
 paid, if it should please God to spare his life, they generously 
 agreed among themselves, to advance him a small sum of 
 money without any security but his bond, for this he was to 
 pay a very reasonable interest, and to return the whole in a 
 given number of years. James shed tears of gratitude at 
 this testimony to his character, and could hardly be prevailed 
 
 on to accept their kindness, so gi eat was his dread of being- 
 in debt. ® 
 
 He took the remainder of the lease from his mistress, and 
 tn settling affairs with her, took cart to make every thine 
 as advantageous to her as possible. He never once allowed 
 himself to think how unkind she had been to him, he only saw' 
 in her the needy widow of his deceased master, and the 'Is- 
 tressed mother of an infant femjlV, and was heartily sorry it 
 
15 The tzco Shoemakers. 
 
 was not in his power to contribute to their support; it was 
 no f only his duty, hut his delight to return good for evil — 
 for he was a christian. 
 
 James Stock, was now by the blessing- of God, on his own 
 earnest endeavours, roaster of a considerable shop, and was 
 respected bv the who: town for his prudence, honesty, and 
 piety. How he behaved in his new station, and also what 
 befel his comrade Brown, must be the subject of another 
 book ; and I hope my readers will look forward with some 
 impatience for some further account of this worthy young 
 man. In tlie mean t ime, other apprentices will do well to 
 follow so praise-worthy an example, and to remember, rhac 
 the respectable master of a large, shop, and a profitable bu- 
 siness, was raised to that creditable situation without money, 
 friends,' or connections, from the low beginning of a parish 
 *prentice,bv sobriety, industry, the fear of God, and an ob f 
 dience to thtt divine principles of the Christian Religion* 
 
 PART II. 
 
 The Apprentice turned Master, 
 
 TEflE first part of this History left off with the dreadful 
 sudden death of Williams the idle shoemaker, who died in a 
 drunken fit at the Greyhound, It also shewed how JameJ 
 Stock, his faithful apprentice, by his honest and upright be- 
 haviour, so gained the love and respect of his late master's 
 creditors, that they set him up in business though he was 
 not worth a shilling of his own, such is he power of a good 
 character! And when we last parted from him he had just 
 got possession of his master's shop. 
 
 This sudden prosperity was m t ime of trial for James, who 
 as he was now become a creditable tra lesma;** I shall here- 
 after think proper to calL Mr. James Stock. [ say, this sud- 
 den rise in life was a time of tri >!, for we hardly know what 
 we are ourselves till we become our own masters. There is 
 indeed always a reasonable hope that a good servant will not 
 make a bad master, and that a faithful apprentice will p™ ve 
 
The txzo Shoemakers. 
 
 17 
 
 an honest tradesman. But the heart of man is deceitful ; — 
 and some folks who seem to behave very well while they arc 
 under subjection, no sooner get a little power, than their heads 
 arc turned, and they grow prouder than those who are gen- 
 tlemen born. They torget at once that they were lately poor 
 and dependent themselves, so that one would think that with 
 their poverty they had lost their memory too^ I have known 
 some who had suffered most hardships in their early days, 
 become the most hard and oppressive in their turn; so that 
 thev seem to forget that tine considerate reason which Go:l 
 gives to the children of Israel, why they should be merciful to 
 Their servants — " remembering," said he, " that thou thy- 
 self wast a bondman. ** 
 
 Young Mr. Stock did not so forget himself. He had in- 
 deed the only sure ground from falling into this error. It wa: 
 not from any easiness in his natural disposition: for that only 
 just serves to make folks good natured when they are pleas- 
 ed, and patient when they have nothing to vex them. James 
 went upon higher ground. He brought his religion into all 
 hjs actions; he did not give way to abusive language, because 
 he knew jt was. a sin. He did not use his apprentices ill, be- 
 cause he knew he had a Master in heaven. 
 
 Me knew he owed his present happy situation to the kind - 
 ness of the creditors. But did he grow easy and careless 
 because lie had such (liends? No, indeed— he worked with 
 double diligence in order to get out of debt, and to let these 
 friends see he did not abuse their kindness. Such behaviour 
 as this is the greatest encouragement in the world to rich 
 people to lend ar little money. It creates friends, and it keeps 
 them. 
 
 His shoes and boots were made in the best manner; tin's 
 got; tiivn business ^he set out with a rule to tell no lies and 
 deceive no customers ; this Secured his business. He had 
 two reasons for not promising to send home goods when he 
 knew he should not be able to keep his word. The first, 
 because he knew a lie was a sin ; the next, because it was a 
 folly. There is no credit sooner worn out than that which is 
 got by false pretences. After a little While, no one is de- 
 ceived by them. Falsehood is so soon found out, that I be- 
 lieve most tradesmen are the poorer for it in the long run,™ 
 Pecejt is the worst part of a" shopkeeper's stock in trade 
 
IS The two Shoemaker. 
 
 James was now at the head of a family. This is a serini- 
 situation, (said he to himself, one fine summer's evening, as 
 he stood leaning over the half-door of his shop to enjoy a lit. 
 tie fresh air) I am now master of a family. My cares ai 
 doubled, and so are my duties, I see the higher one gets in 
 life the more one has to answer for. Let me now call to 
 mind the sorrow I used to feel when I was made to carry 
 work home on a Sunday by an ur godly master, and let me 
 now keep 'he resolutions I then formed. 
 
 So what his heart found right to do, he resolved to do 
 quickly ; and he set out at first as he meant to go on. The 
 Su/, lay was truly a day of rest at Mr. Stock's, He would 
 not allow a pair of shoes to be given out on that day to o- 
 bligre the best customer he had. And what did he lose bv iV 
 Why nothing. For when the people were once used to it, 
 they liked Saturday night just as well. But had it been other- 
 wise he would have given up his gains to his conscience. 
 
 Shewing how Mr. Stock behaved to his Appraiiiav 
 
 When he got up in the world so far as to have apprentice? 
 he thought himfsclf as accountable for their behav i our ci s i 
 they had been his children. He was very kind to them, audi 
 had a cheerful merry way of talking to them, so that theladsl 
 who had seen too much of swearing, reprobate masters, weifl 
 very fond of him. They were never ah aid of speaking tcl 
 him, they told him all their little troubles and consider 
 their master as their best f iend, for they said they would df 
 any thing for a good word and a kind look. As he did noj 
 swear at them when they had been guilty ef a fault, they did 
 not lie to him to conceal it, and thereby make one fault two 
 But though he was very kind, he was very watchful also 
 for he did not think neglect any part of kindness. lie fcfrougk 
 them to a very pretty method, which was on a Sunday eveij 
 ins: to divert "themselves with writing out half a dozen res 
 of Scripture in a pretty copy-book with gilt covers, 
 may huve the same at any of the stationers : they do notco 1 
 above fourpence, and will last nearly a year. 
 
 • When the hoys canie.d him their books, he justly con 
 mended him whose texts were written in the fairest ha* 
 And now, my boys, Said he, let us see which of you* 
 learn vour fcxtS best in the course ci the week , he 
 
Tlie two Shoemakers. jg 
 
 4iall chuse for next Sunday. Thus the boys soon got many- 
 psalms and chapters by heart, almost without knowing how 
 they came by them. He taught them how to make a prac- 
 tical use of what they learnt; for, said he, it will answer lit- 
 tle purpose to learn texts if we do not try to live up to them 
 One of the boys being apt to play in his absence, and to run 
 back again to his work when he heard his master's step, he 
 brought him to a sense of his fault by the last Sunday's text, 
 which happened to be the 6th of Ephesians. He shewed him 
 what was meant by being obedient to his master in singleness 
 of heart as unto Christ, and explained to him with so much 
 kindness what it was, not to work with eye service as men 
 •J pi ease rs, but doing the will of God from the heart, that the 
 |> lad said he should never forget it, and it did more towards 
 | curing him of idleness, than the soundest horse-whipping 
 ' would have done. 
 
 How Mr. Stock got out of DM. 
 
 Stock's behaviour was very regular, and he was much be- 
 loved for his kind and peaceable temper. He had also a good 
 reputation for skill in his trade, and his industry was talked 
 of through the whole town, so that he had soon more work 
 than he could possibly do. He paid all his dealers to the very 
 day, and took care to carry his interest money to the credi- 
 tors the moment it became due. In two or three years he 
 was able to begin to pay off a small part of the principal. — 
 His reason for being so eager to pay money as soon as it be- 
 came due was this :— he had observed tradesmen, and espe- 
 cially his old master, put off the day of payment as long as 
 they could, even though they had the means in their power, 
 Tms deceived them ; for having money in their pockets they 
 forgot it belonged to the creditor, and not to themselves, and 
 ™ ? ot t( ( } fanc Y tne y were rich when they were really poor. 
 This false notion led them to indulge in idle expences, 
 whereas, if they had paid regularly, they would have had 
 this one temptation the less. A young tradesman, when he 
 is going to spend money, should at least ask himself whether 
 tins money ,s his own or his creditors'. This little question 
 might help to prevent many a bankruptcy. 
 
 A true Christian always' goes heartily' to work to find out 
 wut is his besetting sin ; and when he has found it, (which 
 
gO The tito Shoemakers. 
 
 he easily may if he looks sharp) against this sin he watck 
 narrowly. Mow I know it is the fashion among some fold 
 (and a bad fashion it is) to fancy that good people have :\ 
 sin ; hut this only shews their ignorance. It is not true. Thai 
 good man St. Paul knew better*. And when men do nol 
 own their sins, it is not because there is no sin in their hearts! 
 but because they are not anxious to 'search for it, nor hurob!$ 
 to confess it, nor penitent to mourn over it. But this wa* 
 not the case with James Stock. Examine yourselves truly! 
 said he, is no bad part of the catechism. He began toil 
 afraid that his desire of living creditably, and without beirj|f 
 a burthen to any one, might, under the mask of honesty ar; f 
 independence, lead him into pride and covetbusness. Vm 
 feared that the bias of his heart lay that way. So instead o| 
 being proud of his sobriety ; instead of bragging that he n;l 
 yer spent his money idly, nor went to the alehouse; inste 
 of boasting how hard he worked, and how he denied hinl 
 self, he strove in secret that even these good qualities migl 
 not grow out of a wrong root. The following event wa&( 
 use to him in the way of indulging any disposition to cove 
 ousness : 
 
 One evening as hewas Standing at the. door of his shop,! 
 poor dirty boy, without stockings and sfeoes, came up anl 
 asked him for a bit of broken victuals, for he had eaten ncfl 
 thing all day* In spite of his dirt and rags he was a ver 
 pretty, lively, civil spoken boy, and Mr. Stock could m 
 help thinking lie knew something of his face. Me fetch: 
 him out a good piece of bread and cheese, and while the k 
 was devouring it, asked him if he had no parents, and \vi: 
 he went about in that vagabond manner ? Daddy has be 
 dead some years, said the boy ; he died in a fit over at it 
 Greyhound. Mammy says lie used to live at this shop, an| 
 then we did not want for cloaths nor victuals neither. Stocj 
 was melted almost to tears on finding this dirty beggar-^ 
 was Tommy Williams, the son of his old master. HeH 
 sed God on comparing his own happy ; cbiulition withfe 
 of thi* poor destitute child, but he was not proud at the cow 
 parison, and while he was thankful for his own prosper^ 
 he pitied the helpless boy. Where have you been living 
 a-ter said he to !rim, tor I understand you all went hofl e | 
 
 * Sec Roman* vi'u 
 
The two Shoemakers-, §1 
 
 four mother's friends — So we did, Sir, said the boy, but 
 they pre grown tired of maintaining ns, because they said 
 fhar Mammy spent all the money which should have gone 
 Ifto buv victuals for us, on snufF and drams. And so they 
 have sent us b^ck to this place, which is Daddy \s parish. 
 
 And where do you live here? said Mr. Stock. — O, Sir, 
 lye are. all put in the parish poor-h- use. And dees your 
 S&bther do any thing to help to maintain you ? — No, Sir, for 
 Mammy says she was not brought up to work Like poor folks, 
 •and she would rather starve than spin or knit ; so she lies a* 
 bed all the morning, and sends us about to pick up what we 
 •can, a hit of victuals or a few halfpence. — And have you any 
 money in your pocket now? — Yes, Sir, 1 have got three 
 tialfnence which t have begged to da v.- — Then as you were 
 go very hungry, how came you not to buy a roll at tn at 
 Spakei 's over the way ? — Because, Sir, I was going to liy. it 
 out in tea for Mammy, for ! never lav out a farthing for my- 
 self. Indeed, Mammy says she will have her tea twice a-day 
 8F ve beg or starve for it. — Can you read, my *boy ? said Mr. 
 Stock. — A little, Sir, and say my prayers too. — And can you 
 say your catechism?— I liave almost forgot 'It all, Sir, tho' 
 I remember about honoring my father and mother, arid that 
 makes me still carry the halfpence home to mammy instead 
 
 of buying cakes. — Who taught you these good things ? 
 
 One Jemmy Stock, Sir, who was a paiish 'prentice to mv 
 Daddy. He taught me one question out of the catechism 
 every night, and alvvavs made me sav my prayers to him be- 
 fore I went to bed. He told me I should goto the wicked 
 place if I did not fear God, so I am still afraid to tell lies like 
 the other bovs. Poor Jem ov gave me a piece of gingerbread 
 every time 1 learnt well ; but I have no friend now : Jemmy 
 was very good to me, though Mammy did nothing but beat 
 'him. 
 
 Mr. Stock was too much r» oved to carry on the Jisdltirse, 
 he did not make himself known to the boy', 'int. rook him 
 •over to the baker's shoo, &<s he walked a'fong, he could no? 
 help repeating aloud, a verse or two of that rv an trail hymn, 
 so deservedly the favourite of all children : 
 
 * Not more thvn others I deserve, 
 * Yet God hath given m« more, 
 
 * For T tnvefood while others starve, 
 6 Or beg from door to door. 3 
 
e 
 m 
 is 
 
 22 The two Shoemdkers. 
 
 "The little hoy looked up in his face, saying, Why Sn 
 that's the very hymn which Jemmy Stock gave me a penny 
 for learning. Stock made no answer, but put a couple of 
 three-penny loaves into his hand to carry home, and told 
 him to call on him again at such a time" in the followincr 
 week. 6 
 
 How Mr. Stock continued to be charitable without 
 
 any Expence. 
 
 Stock had abundant subject for meditation that night. He 
 was puzzled what to do with the boy. While be was car- 
 rying on his trade upon borrowed money, he did not think it 
 right to give any part of that money to assist the idle, or even 
 to help the distressed. I must be just, said he, before I am 
 generous. Still he could not bear to see this fine boy given 
 up to certain ruin. He did not think it safe to take him into 
 his shop in his present ignorant unprincipled state. At last h 
 hit upon tin's thought : I work for myself twelve hours i 
 the day. Why shall I not work one hour or two for thi a 
 boy in the evening ? It will be but for a vear, and 1 shall 
 then have more right, to do what I please. 'My money will 
 then be my own, i shall have paid my debts. 
 
 , So he hegan to put his resolution in practice that very 
 night, sticking to his old notion of not putting off till to-mor- 
 row what should be done to-day— and it was thought he 
 owed much of his success in life, as well as his growth in 
 goodness, to this little saying. I am young and healthy,' 
 said he, one hour's work more will do me no harm ; I will 
 1 set aside all I get by these over-hours, and put tbe boy to 
 school. I have not only no right to punish this child for the 
 sins of his father, but I consider, that though God hated 
 those sins, he made them be instruments for my advance- 
 ment. 
 
 Tommy Williams called at the time appointed. In the 
 mean time Mr. Stock's maid had made him a tidy little suit 
 of cloaths out of an old coat of her master's. She had also 
 tnit him a pair of stockings, and Mr. Stock made him sit 
 clown in the shop, while he himself fitted him with a pair of 
 new shoes. The maid having washed and dressed him, Mr. 
 Stock took him by the hand and walked alon» with him to 
 the parish poor-house to find his mother. They found her 
 
The Two Shoemakers 9.3 
 
 iressed in ragged filthy finery, standing at the door, where 
 Z passed moft of her quarrelling wi:h half a doze* 
 
 •women as idle and dirty as herself; when she saw rommjr 
 -so neat and well-dressed, she fell a-crying for py. bhc said 
 it put her in mind of old times, for Tommy always use Ho 
 he dressed like a gentleman. So much the worse, said Mr 
 
 "Stock, 
 tie man 
 .a be go 
 
 ^vear" since she had seen him, she soon recovered him) fine 
 times for you ! st t a beggar on hoi -scback— von know the 
 proverb. I shall beat Tommy well for finding you out, 
 and exposing me to you. 
 
 Instead of entering into any dispute with this bad woman, 
 or praising himself at her expence, or putting her m mind 
 of her past ill behavior to him, or reproaching her wri the 
 had use she had made of her prosperity he im\$\y said to 
 ,ner, Mrs. Williams I am sorry for your misfortunes ; i am 
 .came to relieve you of part of your burthen. I will tat'e 
 Tommy ofFvour hands. I will give mm a /yearns board 
 .and schooling, and by that time I shall see what he is fit tor. 
 I will promise nothing, but if ihe boy turns out well, I will 
 never forsake him. I shall make but one bargain with you, 
 which is, that he must not come to this place to hear all this 
 railing and swearing, nor shall he keep company with these 
 .pilfering idle children. You are welcome to go and see hun 
 when you please, but here he must not come. 
 
 The foolish woman burst out a crying, saying she should 
 loose her poor dear Tommy for e-er." Mr. Stock might give 
 her the money he intended to pay at the school, for nobody 
 could do so well by him as his own mother. The truth was 
 she wanted to get these new cloathes into her clutches, which 
 would all have been pawned at the dram-shop before .the 
 week was out. This Mr. Stock well knew. From cm ig 
 she fell to scolding and swearing. Sh'€ told Mm he svas an 
 unnatural wretch, "that wanted to make a child de , : .se his 
 -own mother, because she was poor. She evcinvem so far 
 .as to say she would not part from him \ she said she hated 
 your godly people, they had no bowels of compassion, jt 
 tried to set men, women, and children agaiast tneir own 
 ? flesh and blood. 
 
§4 Tlie Iko Shoemakers, 
 
 Mr. Stock now almost lost his patience, and for one ino« 
 ment a thought came across him to strip the boy» carry baelp 
 the cloaths, and leave him to his unnatural mother. Why, 
 said he, should I work over-hours, and wear out my strength 
 for this wicked woman ? But he soon checked this thought, 
 by reflecting on the patience and long-suffering of God with 
 rebellious sinners. This cured his anger in a moment, and 
 he mildly reasoned with her on her folly and blindness in op- 
 posing the good of her child. 
 
 One of the neighbours who stood by, said, what a fine 
 thing it was for the boy, but some people were born to be 
 lucky! She wished Mr Stock would take a fanev to her 
 child, he should have him soon enough. Mrs. Williams 
 now began to be frightened lest Mr. Stock should take the 
 woman at her word, and sullenly consented to let the boy go, 
 from envy and malice, not from prudence and gratitude, and 
 Tommy was sent to school that very night, his mother cry - 
 ing and roaring, instead of thanking God for such a blessing; 
 
 And here 1 cannot forbear telling a very good-natured 
 thing of Will S impson, one of the workmen. By-thc-bye it 
 was that very young fellow who was reformed by Stock's 
 good example when he was an apprentice, and who used to 
 sing with him on a Sunday evening, when they got out of 
 the way of Williams's junketing. Will coming home early 
 one evening, was sin prised to find his master at work by him- 
 self, long after the usual time. He begged so heartily to 
 know the reason, that Stock owned the truth. Will was so 
 struck with this piece of kindness, that lie snatched up a last, 
 crying out, Well, master, you shall not work by yourseli 
 however; we will go snacks in maintaining Tommy ; it 
 shall never be said that Will Simp son was idling about, when 
 his master was working for chanty, ,This made the hour 
 pass chearfully and doubled the profits. ... 
 
 In a year or two Mn, Stock, by God's blessing on his la- 
 bours, became quire clear of the world. He how paid off 
 his creditors, but he never forgot his obligation to them, and 
 to their children after them. He now cast about for a pro- 
 per wife, and as he was thought a prosperous man and very 
 well-looking besides, most of the smart girls of the place, 
 with their tawdry finery, us-d to be often parading before the 
 
The h:o Shoemakers. '$lk 
 
 shop, and would even go to church in order to put them- 
 selves in his way. But M& Stock when he' went to church 
 had other things in his head, and if he ever thought about 
 these gay damsels at all, ft Was with concern in seeing them 
 so improperly tricked out, so that the very means they took 
 to please him made him dislike them. 
 
 There was one Betsy West, a young woman of excellent 
 character, an*' very modest appearance. He had seldom seen 
 her out, as she Was employed night and day in waiting on an 
 aged widowed mother, who was both lame and blind. This 
 oooU erirl was indeed alinost truly eves and feet to her help- 
 less parent, and Mr. Stock used to see her through the little 
 casement window, lifting her up and feeding her with a ten- 
 derness which greatly raised Ins esteem for her. Me used to 
 tell Will Simpson, as they sat at work, that such a dutiful 
 daughter could 'hardly fail to make a faithful wife. He had 
 not, however, the heart to trv to draw her or? from h care 
 of her sick mother. 1 he poor woman declined very fast. 
 Betsy was much cmploved in leading or praying hv her 
 while she was awaltc, and passed good part of the night 
 while she slept, in doing ..some line works to sell in order to 
 supply her s'.ck mother with little niceties which their poor 
 pittance could sot afford, while she herself lived on a crust. 
 
 Mr. Stock knew that Betsy would have little or nothing 
 after her 'mother's death, as she had only a fifeirtcorhe. On 
 the other hand Mr. Thompson, the tanner, had offered hini 
 two hundred pounds with Ins daughter Nancy — but he was 
 almost Sony that he had not in this case an opportunity of 
 "resisting his natural bias, which rather lay on the side of 
 loving rrtoney* for, said he, putting principle, and putting a is 
 lection out of the question, i shall do a more prudent t ing 
 1)y marrying Betsy West, who will conform to her station-, 
 .and is a religious, humble, industrious girl, without a shit- 
 ling, than by having an idle, dressy lass," who will neglect 
 jny family, and fill my house wi'th company, though she 
 should have twice the fortune which NancyThompson would 
 bring. 
 
 , At length poor old Mrs. West was released from all her 
 sufferings. At a proper time Mr. Stock proposed marriage 
 to Betsy, and was accepted. All the disappointed girls in tne 
 town wondered what any bodv could see in such a dowdy as 
 
§6 The tzco Shoemakers, 
 
 ~ that. Hal the man 'no eyes? They thought Mr. Stock had 
 had more taste. Oh ! how it did provoke all the. vain idle 
 tilings to find, that staying at home, dressing plainly, serv- 
 ing God, and nursing a blind mother, should do that for 
 Betsy West, which all their contrivances, flaunting, and 
 dancing, could not do for them. 
 
 He was not disappointed of meeting with a good wife in 
 Betsy, as indfed those who marry on right grounds seldom 
 are. But if religious persons will, for the sake of money, 
 chusc partners for life w ho have no religion, do not let them 
 complain that they are unhappy — they might have known 
 t i Kit he forehand. 
 
 Tommy Williams was now taken home to Stock's house 
 • •'•;d bound apprentice. He was always kind and attentive to 
 his mother; and every penny which Will Simpson or his 
 nv ster gave him for learning a chapter, he would save to 
 - buy a hit of tea and sugar for her. When tlie other hoys 
 faughe^J at him for being so foolish as to deny himself cakes 
 and apples, to give bis monev to her who was so had a wo- 
 man, he would answer, It may be so, but she is my mother 
 
 for all that. '3ti:%&w WrM : -% 
 
 Mr. Stock was much moved at the change in this boy, 
 who turned out a very good youth. He resolved, as God 
 should prosper him, that he would try to snatch other help- 
 legs creatures from sin 2nd ruin. For, said he, it is owing 
 to God's blessing on the instructions of my good minister 
 
 hen I was a child, that I have been saved from the broad 
 nvav of destruction. He still gave God the glory of every 
 riling he did aright, and when Will Simpson one day said to 
 nim, Master, I wish I were half as good as you are. Hold, 
 William, answered he gravely, I once read in a book, that 
 the devil is willing enough we should appear to do good ac- 
 tions, if he cm hut make us proud of them. 
 
 But we must not rorget our other old acquaintance, Mr. 
 Stock's fellow-'prentice. So you may expect a full account 
 m(' Hit many tricks and frolics of idle Jack Brown in the fol- 
 lowing part. 
 
* 
 
 The irzo Shoemakers. ®1 
 
 PART III. 
 
 I GAVE a little account of Jack Btown and his wild tricks 
 in the first part of this htstory, from winch 1 dare say you 
 expect to 1 hear no ; great good of him. The second part 
 shewed how fames Stock, from a parish apprentice, became 
 a top shoemaker. You shall now hear what befel idle Jack, 
 who being a farmer's son, had many advantages to begin life 
 with. But he who wants prudence, may be said to want 
 everv thing, because he turns all his advantages to no ac- 
 count. 
 
 faejc -Brown was just out of his time when his master 
 Williams died in that terrible drunken fit at the Grevhound. 
 You know already how Stock succeeded to his master's bu- 
 siness, and prospered in it. Jack wished very much to enter 
 into partnership with him. His father and mother too were 
 desirous of it, and offered to advance a hundred pounds with 
 him. Here is a fresh pi oof of the power of a good charac* 
 ter ! The old farmer, with all his covetousness, was eager 
 to get his son into partnership with Stock, though the latter ; 
 w r as not worth a shilling, and even Jack's mother, with all 
 her pride, was eager for it, for they had both sense enough 
 to see it would be the making of Jack. The father kneu 
 that Stock would look to the main chance ; and the mother 
 that he would take the labouring oar, and so her darling 
 would have little to do. 
 
 Stock, however, young as he was, w r as too old a b'rd to 
 be caught with chaff. His wisdom was an overmatch for 
 their cunning. He had a kindness for Brown, but would on 
 no account enter into business with him. One of these 
 t;hrce things, said he, I am sure will happen if I do — he will 
 either hurt my principles, my character, or mv trade — per- 
 haps all. And here, by-the-bye, let me drop a hint to other 
 young men who are about to enter into partnership. Let 
 them not do that in hast- which they mav repent at leisure. 
 "Next to marriage/ it is a tie the hardest to break; and next 
 to that is an engagenent which ought to be entered irro 
 With- < 1 most caution. Many things go to the making such 
 
og The tico Sfwemaker&fs 
 
 a connexion, suitable, safe, and pleasant. There is many a 
 rich man need not be above taking a hint in this respect from 
 James Stock the shoemaker. 
 
 Brown was still nn willing to .part from him, indeed he 
 was too idle to look out for business, so he offered Stock to 
 work with him as ajourpevman; but this, he also 'mildly re- 
 fused. It hurt his good-nature to do so, but he reflected 
 that a young nuu who has his way to make in the world, 
 must not only be good-nature J, he must he pranent also> I 
 am resolved, . said he, to employ none hut the most sober, 
 regular young men lean get. Evil c o m m u n i e a t i ons< c o r r upt 
 good manners, and I should he answerable for all the disor- 
 ders of mv own house, if I knowingly took a wild drinking 
 young fellow into it. That which might be kindness to 
 one, would be injustice to many, and therefore a sin in my- 
 serr. '* . ..... m 'r ... i - Rfj f i 
 
 Brown's mother was in a great rage'when she heard that 
 her son had stooped so low as to make this offer. p — -She 
 thought pride was a grand thing. Poor woman ! she did 
 not know that it is the meanest thing in the world. It was 
 her ignorance which made her proud, as is apt to be the case. 
 Y^>u 'mean-spirited rascal, said she to Tack, I had rather fol- 
 low vou to the grave, as well as I love you, than see you 
 disgrace your family bv working under Jem Stock, the pa- 
 rish apprentice. She forgot already what pains she had 
 taken about the partnership, but pride and passion have a bad 
 memory. 
 
 it is hard to say which was now uppermost in her mind, 
 her desire to be revenged on Stock, or to see her son make 
 .1 figure. She raised every shilling she could r^ct from her 
 husband, and all she could crib from the dairy to set up fack 
 in a showy wav. So the very next market- dav she came her- 
 
 f ~\\, and took for him the new white house, wirh .the two 
 "tic sash windows painted blue, and blue posts before the 
 
 K>or. It is that house which Has the Old Cross just before 
 k, as you turn down between the .Church and the Grey- 
 hound. It s being so near tire chi.rch, to.be sure was no re- 
 commendation to jack, but it's being so near the Grey- 
 hound was, and so taking one thing with the other, it. was 
 to be sure no bad situation, but what .webbed most with the 
 mother was, that it was a .much hoi\ howy abor "V n 
 
The mo Shoemakers. <pa 
 
 Stock's, and the house, though not half so convenient, was 
 far more sm irt. 
 
 In order to draw custom j his foolish mother advised him 
 to undersell his neighbours just at rirst ; to buy oHinarv but 
 showy goods, and employ cheap workmen. In short^ she 
 charged him to leave no stone unturned to ruin his old com- 
 rade Stock. Indeed she always thought with double satis- 
 faction of Jack's prosperity, becauseshe always joined to it 
 the hope that his success would be the ruin of Stock, for 
 she owned it would be the joy of her heait to bring that 
 proud upstart to a nfonel of bread. She did not understand 
 for her part, why such beggars' must become tradesmen, it 
 was making a velvet piuse of a sow's ear. 
 
 Stock, however, set out on quite another set of principles. 
 He did not always allow himself to square bis c'w'n' behavi- 
 our to others by their's to him. I^e seldom asked himself 
 what he should like to do — but he had a mighty way of say- 
 ing, I wonder now what is my duty to do? And when ho 
 was once clear in that matter lie generally did it, alwav;, 
 ^ e gg m g ^od's blessing and direction. So instead of setting 
 Brown at defiance — instead of all" that vulgar self shness,- of 
 catch he that catch can — and two of a trade can never agree 
 —he resolved to be friendly towards him. Instead vF/oi i .- 
 ing in the laugh against Brown for making his house so hue, 
 he was sorry for him, because he feared he tvouM never be 
 able to pay such a rent. So he very kindly called upon him 
 told him there was business enough for them both, and gave 
 him many useful hints for his going on. He warned fpm 
 to go oftener to church andseldomer to the Greyhound ; pur 
 him in mind how following the one and forsaking the other 
 had been the ruin of their poor master ; and added the follow 
 
 Advice to young Tradesmen. 
 
 Buy the best goods ; cut the work out yourself ; let %& 
 eye of the master be every where; employ the soberest' 
 men ; avoid all the low deceit of trade ; never lower the credit ; 
 of another to raise your own — make short payments — keep ' 
 e*act accounts ; avoid id'e company, and be very strict to ] 
 vour word. 
 
§Q The two Shoemakers* 
 
 For a snort time things went on swimmingly. Brown 
 was merry and civil. The shop was well situated for gos 
 sip ; and every one who had something to say, and nothing- 
 to do, .was welcome., Every idle story was first spread.,, and 
 jevery.ialespog first sung - in Brown's, shop. Every customer 
 who came to be measured was promised that his shoes should 
 be done rirst. But the misfortune was if twenty came in 
 a day, the same promise was made to all, so that nineteen 
 were disappointed and of course affronted. He never said 
 No to anv one. It is indeed a word which it requires somi 
 honesty to pronounce. By all these, false promises he was 
 thought the must obliging fellow that ever made a shoe.— 
 And as he set out on the principle of under-selling, people 
 took a mighty fancy to the Cheap Shop. And it was agreed 
 among ail the young at;:! giddy, that he would beat Stock 
 hollow, and that the old shop would be ; soon knocked up. 
 
 All is not Gold that glistens. « 
 
 After a few months, however, folks began to be not quite 
 to fond of the Cheap Shop — one found out that the leather 
 was bad, another that the work was slight. Those who 
 liked substantial goods, went all of them to Stock's, for 
 they said Brown's heel- taps did ' not last a week — his new 
 boots let in water, and thev believed he made his soles of 
 brown paper: besides it was thought by most, that his pro- 
 mising all, and keeping his word with none, hurt his busi- 
 ness as much as any thing. Indeed, I question, putting re- 
 ligion out of the question, if lying ever answers in the long 
 run. 
 
 Brown had what is commonlv called * a good heart,'— 
 that is, he had a thoughtless good nature, and a sort of: reel- 
 ing for the moment, which made him seem sorry when others 
 were in trouble- - But he was not apt to put himself to any 
 inconvenience, nor to go a step out of his way, nor give up 
 anv pleasure to serve the b^st friend he had. He loved /zm ; 
 and those who do should always see that is be harmlesss, and 
 thatthev cJb not give up more for it than it is worth. I am 
 riot going to say a word against innocent merriment. I IiK e 
 i; myself. But what the Proverb says of gold, may be said 
 c . .— . .'v. it may b« bought too dear. If a young man finds 
 
 'v.. . f *✓ 
 
 n if'' ' id - i 
 
 » 
 
The tico Shoemakers. 3 { 
 
 that what he fancies is a good joke, may posvsibly offend 
 God, hurt his neighbour, afiliut his parent, or make a fftg* 
 dest ghl blush, then, let hkn be assured it is not fun but 
 wickedness, and lie had better let it alone. 
 
 Jack Brown then, as ' good a heart' as he had, did' not 
 know what it was to deny himself any thing. He was so 
 good-vaturcd indeed, that ne never in his life refused to make 
 one of a jolly. set ; but he was not good-natured enough to 
 consider that those men whom he kept up all night roaring 
 and laughing, had wives and children at home, who had lit- 
 tle tp eat, and less to wear, because they were keeping up the 
 character of merry fellows at the pubiic-house. 
 
 \h ■ The Mountebank. ' 
 
 One day he saw his father's plow-boy come galloping up 
 to his door in great haste. This boy brought Brown word 
 that his mother was dangerously ill, and that his father had 
 sent his own best bay mare, Smiler, that his son might lose- 
 no time, but set out directly to see his mother before she 
 died. Jack burst into tears, lamenting the danger of so to mi 
 •a mother, and all the people in the shop extolled his good 
 heart. 
 
 He sent back the hoy directly, with a message that be 
 would follow him 'in half an hour, as soon as the mare had 
 baited, for he well knew that Ins father would not (hank 
 him for any haste he might make, if Smiler was hurt. 
 
 Jack accordingly set off, and rode with such speed to the 
 next town, that both himself and Smiler had a mind to an- 
 other bait. They stopped at the Star, unluckily it was 
 Fair-day, and as he was walking about while Smiler was 
 eating her oats, a bill was put into his hand, setting forth, 
 that on a stage opposite the Globe, a Mountebank was 
 shewing away, and his Andrew performing the hncst tricks 
 that \\ ere ever seen. He read — he stood still— he went on — 
 It will not hinder me, says he, Smiler must rest, and I shall see 
 my pooi dear mother quite as soon if I just ta-ke a peep, as 
 'if I sit moping at the Star. 
 
 The tricks were so merry, that the time seemed shirt, and 
 when they were over, he could not -forbear going into the 
 Globe and treating these choice fellows with a bowl of punch. 
 • — Just as they were taking the last glass, Jack happened to 
 
 t 
 
99 Ta» tw6 Shoemakers, 
 
 say thai he was the best fives player in the country. That 
 is lucky, said the Andrew, for there is a famous match rio'w 
 . playing in the court, and you may never a^ain have such an 
 opuouimity to show your ski!!. Brown 'declared he coult 
 noj\3tay, for he had kit: his horse at the 3 Star, ;and must sc t 
 off on urgent business. They now all pretended to call his 
 ski}] in question. This roused his pride, and he thought 
 another half hour could break' no squares. Smiler had now 
 had a good teed of corn, and he would only have to push he; 
 on a little more ; so to it he went. > ' 
 
 He won the first game. This spurred him on ; and he 
 played till it was so dark thev could not see a ball. 'Anothc 
 bowl was callec! tor from the winner. Wagers and bets now 
 drained Brown not only of ail ihe money he had won, bui 
 of all he had in his pocket, so that he was obliged to ask 
 'leave to go to the house where his horse was, to borrow 
 enough to discharge his reckoning at the Globe. 
 
 All the*: fosses bought his poor dcai mother to hisrnind, 
 and he roared piF with rather a heavy heart to borrow the 
 money, and fcq c-.. ! cr Siniler out of the stable. The lamb 
 lorn expressed muck surprise at seeing him, and the ostle; 
 declared there was no Smiler there, that he had been rode off 
 two hours ago by the Merry Andrew, who said he came 
 by order of the owner, Mr. Brown, to fetch him to the 
 ( /lobe, and to pay for his feed. It was indeed one of the 
 nearest tricks the Andrew ever performed, for he made such 
 a clean conveyance of Smiler, that neither fack nor his fa- 
 ttier ever, heard of her again. 
 
 It was night : no one could tell what road the Andrew 
 took; and it was another hour or two before an advertise- 
 ment could be drawn up for apprehending the horse-stea. . r. 
 Jack hajl some doubts whether he should <ro on or return 
 back. He knew that though his father might fear his wife 
 most, yet he loved *Smi!er best. At length he took that 
 courage from a glass of brandy which he aught to have 
 taken from a heavy repentance, and he resolved to pursue 
 his journey He was obliged to leave his watch and- silver 
 buckles ; pawn for a little old hack which was nothing byt 
 skin an •■, and would hardly trot three miles an hour. 
 
 He ' . ' . at \ is father's door about five in the miming- 
 Th< . ■ e all up. He asked the boy who opened the 
 
 dc. *K>thex was ? She is dead, said the bov, she 
 
The two Snoeftoafcers. 33 
 
 [died yesterday afternoon. Mere Jack's heart smote him, 
 Sand he cried aloud, partly from grief, but more from the 
 [reproaches of his own conscience, for lie found by com- 
 muting the hours, that had he come straight^ on, he should 
 [have been in time to receive his mother's blessing. 
 I The farmer now called from within, I hear Smiler's step. 
 -Is Jack comer — Yes, father, said Jack, in a low voice.— 
 firhen, cried the Fawner, run every man and boy of you, 
 find take care of the rnare. Tom, do thou go and rub her 
 [own ; Jem, run and get her a good feed of corn. Be sure 
 'fwaKk her about that she mav not catch cold. Young Brown 
 jta'nie in. Are you not an unlutiful dog ? said the father— 
 Vou might have been here twelve hours ago. Your mother 
 could not die in peace without seeing you. v She said it was 
 a cruel return for all her fondness that you could not make a 
 little haste to see her—but it was always so, for she had 
 wronged her othe"r children to help you, and this was her 
 reward, Brown sobbed out a few words, but his father re- 
 plied. Never cry, Jack, for the boy told me that it was out of 
 regard for Smiler that you were not here as soon as he w r as, 
 and if 'twas your over care of her, why there's no great 
 harm done. You could not have saved your poor mother, 
 and you might have hurt the marc. Here jack's double 
 guilt flew into his face. He knew that his father was very 
 covetous, and had lived on bad terms with his wife : and 
 ajso that his own unkindness to her had been forgiven by 
 him out of love to the horse — fctit to break to hhrThow he 
 had lost that horse through his own folly and want of feel- 
 ing, was more than Jack had courage to do. The old man, 
 however, noon got at the truth, and no words can describe 
 his furv.^ Forgetting that his wife lay dead above stairs, lie" 
 abused his son in a way not fit to be. repeated ; and though 
 his covetousness had just before found an excuse for a fa- 
 vorite son neglecting to visit a dying paient, vet he now 
 verited his rage against Jack as an unnatural brute, whom he 
 whuld cut off with a shilling, and bade him never see his 
 face again. 
 
 Jack was not allowed to attend his mother's funeral, 
 whienwas a real grief to him; nor would his father ad- 
 vance even the little money which was needful to redeem 
 m s things at the Stir, He had new no fend mother to as. 
 
 C 
 
g^. The two Shoemakers. 
 
 sist him, and he set out on his return home on his borrowed 
 hack, full of grief. He had the added mortification of 
 knowing, that he had also lost by his folly, a little hoard of 
 money which Iris mother had saved up for him. 
 
 When Brown got back to his own town, he found that 
 the story of Smiler and the Andrew had got thither before 
 him, and it was thought a very good joke at the Greyhound. 
 He soon recovered his spirits as far as related to the horse, 
 but as to his behavior to his dying mother, it troubled him 
 at times to the last day of his life, though he did all he 
 could to forget it. He did not however go on at all bet- 
 ter, nor did he engage in one frolic the less for what had 
 passed at the Globe: bis good heart continually betraying 
 him into acts of levity and vanity. 
 
 Jack began at length to feel the reverse of that proverb- 
 Keep your shop, and your shop will keep you. He had 
 neglected his customers^ and they forsook him. ^ Quarter- 
 day came round— there was much to pay and little to re- 
 ceive. He owed two years rent. He was in arrears to his 
 men for wages. He had a long account with his currier.- 
 It was in vain to applv to his father. He had now no mo- 
 ther. Stock was the only true friend he had m the world 
 and had helped him out of many petty scrapes, but he knew 
 Stock would advance no monev in so hopeless a case.— 
 Duns came fast about him. He named a speedy day for 
 payment, but as soon as they were out of the house, and 
 the danger put off to a little distance, he forgot every pro- 
 mise, was as merry as ever/and run the very same round of 
 thoughtless gaiety. Whenever he was in trouble, broc* 
 did not shun him, because that was the moment he though 
 to throw in a little good advice. He one day asked him « 
 he always intended to goon in this course? ISio-r&aid ne, 
 J am resolved bv-and-by to reform, grow sober, and go 
 church. Why, I am but five and twenty, man, 1 m stou. 
 
 and healthy, and likely to live long- 1 can repent, am 
 
 grow melancholy and good at any time. . 
 
 Oh Jack, said Stock, don't cheat thyself with that » 
 hope. What thou dost intend to do, do quickly, v 
 thou never read about the heart growing hardened by Kffi 
 indulgence in sin ? Some folks who pretend to mean *e < 
 show that thev mean nothing at all, by never beginning 
 put their good resolutions into practice ; which nude a 
 
The tzco Shoemakers 
 
 35 
 
 jrnim once say, that hell is paved with g»od intentions. — 
 [We cannot repent when we please. It is the goodness of 
 •'God which leadeth to repentance. 
 
 f Michselmas-dav was at hand. The landlord declared he 
 [would be put off no longer, but would seize for rent if it 
 Evas not paid him on that day, as well as for a considerable 
 taurn due to him for leather. Brown now began to be much 
 
 |i ightened* Fie applied to Stock to be bound for him. 
 
 Fl bis Stack flatly refused. Brown now began to dread t he 
 tiorro-r's of a jail, and really seemed so very ci ntrite, and 
 made so many vows and promises of amendment, that at 
 lenoth Stock was prevailed on, together with two or three 
 M Brown's other friends, to advance each a small sum of 
 inonev to quiet the landlord. Brown promising to. make 
 'fiver to them every part of his stock, and to be guided in 
 future by their advice, declaring that he would turn over a 
 new leaf, and follow Stock's example, as well as his direc- 
 tion in every tiling. 
 
 Stock's good nature was at last wrought upon, and he 
 raised the money. The truth is, he did not know the worst, 
 nor how deeply Brown was then involved. Brown joy- 
 fully set out on the very quarter-day to a town at some dis- 
 tance to carry his landlord the money, raised by the impru- 
 dent kindness of his friend. At his departure Stock put 
 him in mind of the old story of Smiicr and the merry An- 
 drew, and he promised of his own head, that he would not 
 even call at a public house till he had paid the money. 
 l^.'He was as good as his word. He very triumphant! v 
 passed by several. He stopped a little under' the window <pf 
 one where the sounds of merriment and loud laughter caught 
 his ear. At another he heard the enticing notes of a fiddle 
 and the light heels of the merry dancers. Hare his heart 
 had well-nigh failed him, but the dread of a jail on the one 
 hand, and what he feared almost as much, Mr. Stock's an- 
 ger on the other, spurred him on, and he valued himself not 
 a little at having got the better of this temptation. He felt 
 quite happy when he found he had reached the door of his 
 landlord, without having yielded to one idle inclination. 
 
 fie knocked at the door. The maid who opened it, said 
 her master was not at home. I am sorrv for it, said Uf+ 
 strutting about, and with a boasting air, he took out hi 
 
 C 2 
 
The two Shoemakers* 
 
 money. I want to pay him my rent — he need not have 
 been afraid of me. The servant, who knew her master was 
 very much afraid of him, desired him to walk in, for her 
 master would be at home in half an hour. I will call again 
 said he ; hut no, let him call on me, and the sooner the bet- 
 ter : I shall be at the Blue Posrs. While he had been talking 
 he took care to open the black leather case, and to display 
 the Bank-bills to the servant, and then, in a swaggering 
 way, he put up his money and marched off to the Blue 
 T*osts. 
 
 He was by this time quite proud of his own resolution, 
 and having tendered the money, and being clear in his own 
 mind that it was the landlord's own fault and not his, that it 
 was not paid, he went to refresh himself at the Blue Posts: 
 in a barn belonging to the public-house, some strollers were 
 just going to perform some of that sing-song nbaldryby 
 which our villages are corrupted, the laws broken, and that 
 money is drawn from the poor for pleasure, which rs want- 
 ed by their families for bread. The name of the last nev; 
 song- which made part of the entertainment, made him thin 
 himself in high luck, that he should have just that ha 
 • hour to spare. He went into the barn, but was too mutf, 
 delighted with the actor, who sung his favorite song » 
 remain a quiet hearer. He leaped out of the pit, andg 
 behind the two ragged blankets which served for a curt- 
 He sung so much' better than the actors themselves, I 
 they praised and admired him to a degree which awaken 
 all his vanity. He was so intoxicated with their natter 
 that he could do no less than invite them all to supper, 3 
 invitation which they were too hungry not to accept. 
 
 He did not, however, quite forget his appointment * 
 his landlord; but the half hour was long since past by 
 And so, says he, as I know he is a mean curmudgeon, v 
 goes to bed, I suppose, by day-light to save : cand e it* 
 
 l Was lU uc luunu, vwv, »*v»v, > , 
 
 to-night,! can do it before breakfast. 
 
 By the time these firm resolutions were made, suppei ^ 
 A-ady. There never was a more jolly evening. A le 
 
 tk 
 
The tzco Shoemakers, 
 
 3? 
 
 punch were as plenty as water. The actors saw what a vain 
 fellow was feasting them ; and as they wanted victuals, and 
 he wanted flattery, the business was soon settled. They 
 ate, and Brown sung. They pretended to be in raptures. — 
 Singing promoted drinking, and every fresh glass produced 
 a song, or a story still more merry than the former. Before 
 morning those who were engaged to act in another barn a 
 "dozen miles off, stole away quietly. Brown having dropt 
 asleep, they left him to finish his nap by himself: as to him 
 kis dreams were gay and pleasant, and the house being quite 
 still, he slept comfortably till morning. 
 
 As soon as Ire had breakfasted, the business of the night 
 before popped into his head. He set off once more to his 
 {landlord's in high spirits, gaily singing by the way scraps of 
 ' all the tunes he had picked up the night before from his new 
 friends. The landlord opened the door himself, and re- 
 proached him with no small surliness for "hot having kept his 
 word with him the evening before, adding, that he sup - 
 posed he was come now with some more of his shallow ex- 
 Reuses. Brown put on all that haughtiness which is com- 
 Ipnon to people who are generally apt to be in the wrong, 
 when they catch themselves doing a right action, and he 
 ; [looked big, as some sort of people do when they have mo- 
 ney to pay. You need not have been so anxious about your 
 money > said he, I was not going to break or run away. — 
 The landlord knew this was the common language of those 
 who are ready to do both. Brown haughtily added, You 
 shall see I am a man of my word ; give me a receipt. The 
 landlord had it ready, and gave it him. 
 
 Brown put his hand in his pocket for his black leather 
 case in which the bills were — he felt, he searched, he ex- 
 amined, first one pocket, then the other, then both waist- 
 coat pockets, but no leather case could he find. He looked 
 terrified. It was the face of real terror, hut the landlord 
 conceived it to be that of guilt, and abused him heartily for 
 putting his old tricks upon him—he swore he would not be 
 imposed upon any longer, the money or a jail, there lay his 
 choice. 2 
 
 Brown protested for once with great truth, that he had 
 no intention to deceive—declared that he had actually 
 Diought the money, and knew not what was become of it. 
 
gg Tlic tzoo Shoemakers, 
 
 but the thing was far too unlikely to gain credit. Brown 
 now called to mind that he had fallen asleep on the settle in 
 the room where they had supped. This raised his spirits , 
 for he had no doubt but the case had fallen out of his pocket 
 — he said he would step to the public-house and search for 
 it, and would be back directly. Not one word of this did 
 the landlord believe, so inconvenient is it to have a bad cha 
 racter. He swore Brown should not stir out of his house 
 without a constable, and made him wait while he sent for 
 one. Brown, guarded by the constable, went back to the 
 Blue Posts, the landlord charging the officer not to lose 
 sight of the culprit. The caution was needless, Brown had 
 not the least design of running away, so hrmly persuaded 
 was he that he should find his leather case. 
 
 But who can paint his dismay, when no tale or tidings at 
 the leather case could be had ? The master, the mistress, the 
 boy, and the maid of the public-house, all protested they 
 were innocent. His suspicions soon fell on the strollers, 
 with whom he had passed the night— and now he found out 
 for the first lime, that a merry evening did not always pro 
 duce a happy morning. He obtained a warrant, and pi o 
 per officers were sent in pursuit of the strollers. No one 
 however, believed he had really lost any thing— and as he 
 had not a shilling left to defray the expensive tieat he had 
 given, the master of the inn agreed with the other iand.ior 
 in thinking ti is story was a trick to defraud them both, ad 
 Brown remained in close custody. At length the officers 
 returned, who said they had been obliged to let the strollers 
 p-o, as they could not fix the charge on any one, and the] 
 had all offered to swear before a justice, that they had 
 nothing of the leather case. It was at length agreed that* 
 he had passed the evening in a crowded barn, he had pto- 
 bably been robbed there it at all, and among so many 
 could pretend to guess at the thief? . -\ , 
 
 Brown raved like a madman, he cried, tore his hair, ,aiw 
 said he was ruined for ever. The abusive language ot M 
 old landlord, and his new creditor at the Blue Posts, did W 
 1 fchteri his sorrow. His landlord would be put off no longei- 
 Brown declared he could neither find bail nor raise anot^ 
 shilling, and as soon as the forms of law were made ouV 
 was sent to the county jail. 
 
The two Shoejnalcers. 39 
 
 Here it might have been expected that hard living and 
 iftiuch leisure would have brought him to reflect a little on 
 his past follies. But his heart was not truly touched. The 
 chief thing which grieved him at first was, his having 
 abused the kindness of Stock, for to him he should appear 
 guilty of real fraud, where he had indeed been only vain, 
 idle, and imprudent. And it is worth while here to remark 
 that vanity, idleness, and imprudence, often bring a man to 
 ; ruin both soul and body, though silly people d o not put them 
 into the catalogue of heavy sins, and those who indulge in 
 them, are often reckoned honest merry fellows, with good 
 hearts. 
 
 I wish I had room to tell my readers what befel Jack in 
 his present doleful habitation, and what became of him af- 
 terwards. I promise them however that they shall cer- 
 tainly know the first of next month, when I hope they will 
 not forget to inquire for the Fourth Part of the Shoemakers, 
 or jack Brown in prison. 
 
 PART IV, 
 
 JACK BROWN in PRISON. 
 
 I HOPE the reader has not forgotten where the thin} 
 part of this history left ofF last month. It finished with an 
 account how Jack Brown, by keeping idle company when 
 he should have been paying his debts was robbed of his 
 pocket-book while he was asleep on the settle at the Blue 
 Posts. It was also told how the landlord, not believing one 
 word of his story, sent him to prison for debts long due to 
 him. to 
 
 Brown was no sooner lodged in his doleful habitation, and 
 a little recovered from his first surprise, when he sat down 
 and wrote to his friend Stock die whole history of the trans- 
 action. Mr. Stock, who had lows; known the exceeding 
 lightness and dissipation of his mind, did not so utterly dis- 
 believe the story as all the other creditors did. To speak 
 
40 
 
 "Ilia two Shoemaker e. 
 
 the truth, Stock was the only one among them who had 
 good sense enough to know, that a man may be completely 
 ruined, both in what relates to ins property and his soul, 
 without committing Old Bailey crimes. He well knew that 
 idleness, vanity, and the love of pleasure, as it is falsely 
 called, will bring a man to a morsel of bread, as surely 
 those things which are reckoned much greater sins ; and that 
 they undermine his principles as certainly, tliough not per- 
 haps quite so fast. 
 
 Stock was too angry, with what had happened to answer 
 Brown's letter, or to seem to take the least notice of him.— 
 H owever, he kindly and secretly undertook a journey to the 
 hard-hearted old Farmer, Brown's father, to intercede with 
 him, and see if he would do any thing for his son. Stool* 
 did not pretend to excuse jack, or even to lessen his of- 
 fences, for it was a rule of his never to disguise truth, or to 
 palliate wickedness. Sin was still sin in his eyes, though it 
 were committed by his best friend — but though he would 
 not soften the sin, he felt tenderly for the Siftnei . lie pleaded 
 with the old Farmer on the ground, that his son's idleness, 
 and other bad-vices, would gather fiesh strength in a jail, 
 He told him, that the loose and worthless company which 
 lie would there keep, would harden him in vice, and if lie 
 was now wicked, he might there become irreclaimable, 
 
 But all his pleas was urged in vain. The Farmer was 
 not to be moved. Indeed, he argued with some justice, 
 that he ought not to make his industrious children beggars 
 to save one rogue from the gallows. Mr. Stock allowed 
 the force of his reasoning, though he saw the father was 
 less influenced, by this principle of justice than by resent- 
 ment on account of the bid story of Smiler. People, in- 
 deed, should take care that what appears in their conduct 
 to pioceed from justice, docs not really proceed from re- 
 venge. Wiser men than Farmer Brown oiten deceit 
 themselves, and fancy they act on better principles than tbej 
 reaWy do, for want of looking a little more closely into 
 their own. hearts, and putting down every action to its true 
 motive. When we are praying against deceit, we should 
 not forget to take self-deceit into the account. 
 
 Mr. Stock at length wrote to poor Jack — nor to aflMflJ 
 any help, that was quite out of the question, but to exhort 
 
, The Tzzo Shoemakers. 4 j 
 
 him to repent of his evil ways, to lay before him the sins 
 of his past life, and to advise him to convert the present pu- 
 nishment into a benefit, by humbling himself before God. 
 He offered his interest to get his place of confinement ex- 
 changed for- one 6i those improved prisons, where solitude 
 and labour have been made the happy instruments of bring- 
 ing many to a better way of thinking, and ended by saymg, 
 that if he ever gave any solid signs of real amendment, he 
 would still be his friend in spite of all that was past. 
 
 If Mr. Stock had sent him a good sum of money to pro- 
 cure his liberty, or even a trifxe to make merry with his 
 wretched companions. Jack would have thought him a 
 friend indeed, But to send him nothing but dry advice, and 
 a few words of empty comio; t, was, he thought, but a 
 cheap shabby way of snewing his kindness. Unluckily the 
 letter came just as he was going to sit down to one of those 
 direful merry-makings which are often carried on with bru- 
 tal riot within the doleful wails of a jail, on the entrance of 
 a new prisoner, who is often expected to give feasts to the 
 rest. . ■ . _ 
 
 When his companions were heated with gin, Now, said 
 Jack, I'll treat you with a sermon, and a very pretty preach- 
 ment it is. So saying, he took out Mr. Stock's kind and 
 pious letter, and was delighted at the bursts of laughter it 
 produced. What a canting dog, said one ! Repentance., 
 indeed ! cried Tom Crew; No, no, Jack, tell this hypo- 
 cncal rogue, that if we have lost our liberty, it is only tor 
 having been jolly, hearty fellows, and we have more spirit 
 than to repent of that I hope— all the harm we have done, is, 
 living a little too fast, like honest bucks as we are. Aye, 
 aye, said Jolly George, had we been such sneaking miserly 
 fellows as Stock, we need not have come hither. But if 
 the ill-nature of the laws has been so cruel as to clap up such 
 nne hearty blades, we are no felons however. We are 
 airaidol no Jack Ketch ; and I see no cause to repent of 
 any sin, that's net a hanging matter. As to those who are 
 thrust into the condemned hole indeed, and have but a few 
 hours to live, they must see the parson, and hear a sermon, 
 and such stuff. But I do not know what such stout young 
 Allows as are have to do with repentance. And so Jack, 
 
The tzito Shoemakers, 
 
 let us have that rare new catch winch you learnt of the 
 strollers that merry night when you lost your pocket-book. 
 
 Brown soon gave a fresh proofof the power of evil com- 
 pany, and of the quick progress of the heart of a sinner from 
 bad to worse. Brown, who always wanted principle, soon 
 grew to want feeling also. He joined in the laugh which 
 was raised against Stock, and told many * good stories,' as 
 they were called, in derision of the piety, sobriety, and self- 
 denial of his old friend. He lost every day somewhat of 
 those small remains of shame and decency which he had 
 brought with him to the prison. He even grew reconciled 
 to this wretched way of life, and the want of money seemed 
 to him the heaviest evil in the life of a jail. 
 
 Mr. Stock finding from the gaoler, that his letter had 
 been treated with ridicule, would not write to hiin any 
 more. He did not come to see him nor send him any as- 
 sistance, thinking it right to let him suffer that want which 
 his vices had brought upon him. But, as he still hoped that 
 the time might come when he might be brought to a sense 
 of his own evil courses, he continued to have an eye upon 
 him by means of the gaoler, who was an honest kind-hearted 
 man. 
 
 Brown spent one part of his time in thoughtless riot, and 
 the other in gloom and sadness. Company kept up his spi- 
 rits, with his new friends he contrived to drown thought: 
 but when he was alone, he began to find that ' a merry 
 fellow,' when deprived of his companions and his liquor, 
 is often a most forlorn wretch. Then it is, that even a merry 
 fellow says of laughter, * What is it ? and of mirth, it is 
 madness.' 
 
 As he contrived, however to be as little alone as pos- 
 sible, his gaiety was commonly uppermost, till that loath- 
 some distemper, called the Jail Fever, broke out in the pri- 
 son. Tom Grew, the ringleader in all their evil practices, 
 was seized first with it. Jack staid a little while with his 
 comrade to assist and divert him, but of assistance he could 
 give little, and the very thought of diversion was now turned 
 into horror. He soon caught the distemper, and that in so 
 dreadful a degree, that his life was in great danger. Of those 
 who remained in health, not a soul came ftear him, thoug!- 
 
The two Shoemakers, 43 
 
 be had shared his last farthing with them. He had just 
 sense enough to feel this cruelty. Poor fellow ! he did not 
 know before that the friendship of the worldly is at an end 
 when there is no more d ink or diversion to be had. 
 
 He lay in the most deplorable condition ; his body tor- 
 mented with a dreadful disease, and his soul terrified anil 
 amazed at the approach of death: that death which he 
 thought at so great a distance, and of which his comrades 
 had assured him, that a young fellow of five and twenty 
 was in no danger. 
 
 Poor Jack! I cannot help feeling for him. Without a 
 shilling I without a friend ! without one comfort re^pectir^ 
 this world, and, w bat is far more terrible, without one 
 hope respecting the <i ! 
 
 Let not the youn der fancy that Brown's misery arose 
 entirely from his alte -d circumstances. It was not merely 
 his being in want, and sick, and in a prison, which mads 
 his condition so desperate. Many an honest man unjustly 
 accused, many a persecutes saint, many a holy Martyr has 
 enjoyed sometimes more peace and content m a prison, than 
 wicked men have ever tasted in the height of their prosperity. 
 But to any such comforts poor Jack had Jeft himself no right. 
 
 A christian friend generally comes forward at tne very 
 time when worldly friends forsake the wretched. The other 
 prisonerr. would not come near Brown, though he had often 
 entertained and never offended them, even his own father 
 was not moved with his sad condition. When Mr. Stock 
 informed him of it, he answered, 'tis no more than he de- 
 serves. As he brews so he must bake — he has madehis own 
 bed, and let him lie in it. The hard old man had ever at 
 m is tongue's end, some proverb of hardness or frugality, 
 which he contrived to turn in such away as to excuse himself. 
 
 We shall now see how Mr. S>ock behaved. Me had his 
 favouHte sayings too, but they were chiefly on the side of 
 .kindness, mercy, or some other virtue. I must not, said he, 
 pretend to call myself a Christian, if I do not requite evil 
 pmh good : when he received the gaoler's letter with the ac- 
 count of Brown's sad condition, Will Simpson and Toi$mu 
 Wilhams began to compliment him on his own wisdom and 
 prudence, by which he had escaped Brown's misfortunes. — . 
 pe pnly gravely said, Blessed be God that I am not in the 
 
44 
 
 The two Shoemakers 
 
 same misery, It is he who has made us to differ. But for 
 his grace I might have been in no better condition. Now 
 Brown is brought low by the hand of God, it is my time to 
 visit him.— What you said, Will, whom he cheated of your 
 money ? — This is not a time to remember injuries, said Mr. 
 Stock. How can I ask forgiveness for my own sins, if I 
 withhold forgiveness from him? So saying,' he ordered his 
 horse, and set off to see poor Jack, thus prov ing that his 
 was a religion, not of. words, but of deeds. 
 
 Stock's heart nearly failed him as he passed through the 
 prison. The groans of the sick and dying, and what, to such 
 a heart as his was still more moving, the brutal merriment 
 of the healthy in such a place piercedhis very soul. Many a 
 silent prayer did he put up as he passed along, that God 
 would yet be pleased to touch their hearts, and that now, 
 during this infectious sickness, might be the accepted time. 
 The gaoler observed him drop a tear, and asked the cause. 
 I cannot forget, said he, that the most dissolute of these men 
 is still my fellow-creature. The same God made them, the 
 same Saviour died for them — how then can I hate the worst 
 of them ? With my advantages they might have been much 
 better than I am ; without the blessing of God on my good 
 Minister's instructions, I might have been worse than the 
 worst of these. I have no cause for pride, much for thank- 
 fulness— " let us not be high-minded, but fear." 
 
 It would have moved a heart of stone to have seen poor 
 miserable Jack Brown lying on his wretched bed, his face so 
 changed by pain, poverty, dirt, and sorrow, that he could 
 hardly be known for that merry soul of a jack-boot, as he 
 used to be proud to heer himself called. His groans were 
 so piteous that it made Mr. Stock's heart ach. He kindly 
 took him by the hand/ though he knew the distemper was 
 catching. How do'st do, Jack ? said he, do'st know me?— 
 Brown shook his head, and said faintly, know you ? aye, 
 that I do. I am sure I have but one friend in the world who 
 would come to see me in this woeful condition. O James! 
 what have 1 brought myself to? What will become of my 
 poor soul ? I dare not look back, for that is all sin, nor for- 
 ward, for that is all misery and woe. 
 
 Mr. Stock spoke kindly to him, but did not attempt to 
 cheer him with false comfort, as is too often done, I am 
 
The tzvo ShvemakcrSf 4 i 
 
 ashamed to see you in this dirty place, says Brown. As 
 
 to the place, Jack, replied the other, if it has helped to 
 bring you to a sense of your past offences, it will be no bad 
 place for you. I am heartily sorry for your distress and 
 your sickness, but if it should please God by them to open 
 your eyes, and to shew you that sin is a greater evil than 
 the- prison to which it lias brought you, all may yet be well. 
 I had rather see you in this humble, penitent state, lying on 
 this dirty bed, in this dismal prison, than roaring and riot- 
 ing at the Greyhound, the king of the company, with 
 handsome cloaths on your back, and plenty of money in your 
 pocket. 
 
 Brown wept bitterly, and squeezed his hand, but was too 
 weak to say much. Mr. Stock then desired the gaoler to let 
 him have such things as were needful, and he would pav for 
 them. He would not leave the poor fellow till he had given 
 him with his own hands some broth which the gaoler had 
 got ready for him, and some medicines which the doctor ha<i 
 sent. All this kindness cut Brown to the heart. He was 
 just able to sob out, My unnatural father leaves me to perish, 
 and my injured friend is more than a father to me. Stock 
 told him that one proof he must give him of his repentance* 
 was, that he must forgive his father whose provocation l ei 
 been very great. He then said he would leave him for the' 
 present to take some rest, and desired Jiim to lift up his heart 
 to God for mercy. Dear James, replied Jack, do you pray 
 for me, God perhaps -may hear you, but, but he will never 
 hear the prayer of such a sinner as I have been. Take care how 
 you think so, said Stock. To believe that God cannot for- 
 give you would .he still a greater sin than anv you have vet 
 committed against him. He then explained to hm W a few 
 woids, as well as he was able, the nature of repentance, 
 and forgiveness -through a Savior, and warned him earnestly 
 against unbelief and hardness of hearr. 
 
 f if ^f ck gICW much rcfresheJ & D «dy with the com- 
 t«.t^ he had taken; snd a iitile cheered with 
 Stock 6 kindness m coming so far to see, and to forgive such 
 a torlorn outcast, sick of an infectious distemper, and locked 
 witnm the wails of a prison. Surely,, said he to himself, there 
 must be some mighty power in a religion which" can lead men 
 m such taings ! things so much against the grain as to forgive 
 
40 
 
 The ixco Shoemakers. 
 
 an injury, and to risk catching such a distemper, but he was 
 so weak he could not express this in words. He tried to 
 pray, but he could not — at length, overpowered with weari- 
 ness, he fell asleep. 
 
 When Mr. Stock came hack, he was surprised to find him 
 .so much better in body — hut his agonies of mind were dread- 
 ful, and he had now got strength to express part of the hor- 
 rors which he felt. James, said he, looking wildly, it is all 
 over with me. I am a lost creature Even your prayers 
 cannot save me. Dear Jack, replied Mr. Stock, I am no 
 minister, it does not become me to talk much to thee — but 1 
 know I may venture to say whatever is in the Bible. As ig- 
 norant as lam, i shall be safe enough while T stick to that. 
 — Aye, said the sick man, you used to he ready enough to 
 read to iwe and I would not listen, or if I did, it was onlv to 
 make fun of what f heard, and now you will not so much 
 as read a kit of a chanter to me. 
 
 This was the very point to which Stock longed to bring 
 him. So he took a little Bible out of his pocket, which He 
 al ways carried with him on a journey, and read slowly verse 
 by verse, the 5.5th chapter of Isaiah. When he came to the 
 6th and 7th verses, poor Jack cried so much, that Stock was 
 forced to stop. The words were, *f Let the wicked man 
 forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and 
 let him turn xmto the -Lout." Here Brown stopped him, 
 saving, Oh, it ;s too late, too late for me. Let me finish the 
 verse, said Stock, and you will see your error, vou will see 
 tkat it is never too late. So he read on — " Let him return 
 unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our 
 God, and he will abundantly pardon. " Here Brown started 
 up, snatched the book out of his hand, and cried out, Is that 
 really there ? No, no — that's of your own putting in, in or- 
 der to comfort me — let me look at the words myself. — No, 
 indeed, said Stock, I would not for the world give you un- 
 founded comfort, or put off any notion of my own for a 
 scripture doctrine. — But is it possible ! cried the sick man, 
 that God may really pardon me ? Do'st think he can ? Do'st 
 think he will ? — I am sure of it, said Stock — I dare not give 
 thee false hopes, or, indeed, any hopes of my own, But 
 these are God's own wprds, and the only difficulty is to know 
 wh'ett we are really brought into such a state as that the 
 words may be applied to us. 
 
The tico Shoemakers. $a 
 
 Mr. Stock was afraid of saying more. He would noi 
 venture out of his depth, nor, indeed, was poor Brown able 
 to bear more discourse just now. So he made him a present 
 of the Bible, folding down such places as he thought might 
 be best suited to his state, and took his leave, being obliged 
 to return home that night. He left a little money with the 
 gaoler, to add a few comforts to the allowance of the prison, 
 and promised to return in a short time. 
 
 When he got home, he described the sufferings anj 
 misery of Brown in a very moving manner; but Tommy 
 Williams, instead of being properly affected at it, only said* 
 
 Indeed, master, I am not very sorry — he is rightly served.^ 
 
 How, Tommy, said Mr. Stock, rather sternly, not sony to 
 see a fellow -creature brought to the lowest state of misery : 
 one too, whom you have known so prosperous? — No, mas- 
 ter, I can't say I am, for Air. Brown used to make fun of 
 _ ou, and laugh at you for being so godiv, and readme- you r 
 .Bible. J 
 
 Let me say a few words to you, Tommv, said Mr. Stock. 
 In trie hist place, you should never watch for the time of a 
 man s being brought low by trouble to tell of his faults — 
 Next, you should never rejoice at his trouble, butpiry -him. 
 and pray tor him. Lastly, a> to his ridiculing me, for my 
 ■religion ir I cannot stand an idle jest, I am . not worthy the 
 
 #name of a Christian. « He that is ashamed of me and mv 
 words —do st remember what follows, Tommv ? —Yc^ 
 master, tvvas last Sunday's text-" of him shall the Son of 
 
 I at " c a ? hai ^ cd when h& shall judge the world/' 
 
 V , bt0C K S00n Went batk to Pi^on. But he did not 
 go alone he took with him Mr. Thomas, the worthy mi- 
 hister who hau been the guide and instructor of his youth, 
 Prisoner' 'wT* tp ^ ^ ft revest and visit this forlorn 
 
 suing up in his bed with the Bible in his hand. This was a 
 joyful n s,ght to Mr. Stock, who secretly thanked God for £ 
 
 gTs'l^ ,!stcn <* h was the fifteenth 
 
 the Prod 1 Q Th0 ° irCUmStances ofthi * beautiful Parable p£ 
 
 Son AT * i y Were SO muc]l like that tho 
 
 stoiy pierced him to the soul ; and he stopped every £M 
 
 Compare h,s own case with that of the PU&F«iS£ 
 just got to the eighteenth verse, « I will arise and ro to my 
 
£g tlie fzco Shoemakers, 
 
 *' father" — at that moment he spied his two friends — joy 
 darted in his eyes. O dear Jem, said he, it is not too late, 
 I will arise and go to my father, my heavenly Father, and 
 you, Sir, will shew me the way, won't you } said he to Mi 
 Thomas whom he recollected. I am very glad to see you 
 in so hopeful a disposition, said the good minister. 0, 
 Sir, said Brown, what a place is this to receive you in ! 
 see to what I have Drought myself. 
 
 Your condition as to this world, is indeed very low, re- 
 plied the good divine. But what are mines, dungeons, o 
 gallies, to that eternal hopeless prison to which your unre- 
 pented sins must soon have consigned you ? Even in (his 
 gloomy prison, on this bed of straw, worn down by pain, 
 poverty, and want, forsaken by your worldly friends, an 
 object of scorn to those with whom you used to carouse 
 and riot ; yet here, I say, brought thus low, if you have a 
 last found out your own vileness, and your utterly undone 
 state by sin, you may still be more an object of favor \ { 
 the sight of God, than when you thought yourself pToi 
 perous, and happy; when the world smiled upon you, and 
 you passed your days and nights in envied gaiety and unchris- 
 tian riot. If you will but improve the present awful visira 
 tion ; if you do but heartily renounce and abhor your pre- 
 sent evil courses ; if you even now turn to the Lord yom 
 Savior with lively faith, deep repentance, and untcignei 
 obedience, I shall still have more hope of you than of many 
 who are going on quite happy, because quite insensible.— 
 The heavy laden sinner, who has discovered the iniquity 
 his own heart, and his utter inability to help himself, may 
 be restored to God's favor, and become happy, though in 
 a dungeon. And be assured, that he who from deep and 
 humble contrition, dares not so much as to lift his eyes to 
 heaven, when with a hearty faith he sighs out, ** Lord be 
 4; merciful to me a sinner," shall in no wise be cast out. 
 These are the words of him who cannot lie. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the self-abasement, the grief, 
 the joy, the shame, the hope and the fear, which filled the | 
 mind of this poor man. A dawn of comfort at length shone; 
 on his benighted mind. His humilty and fear of falling 
 back into his former sins, if he should ever recover, Mr- 
 Thomas thought were strong symptoms of a sound rcpci* 
 
The two Shoemakers. 
 
 $nce. He improved and cherished every good disposition he 
 saw rising in his heart, and particularlv warned him against 
 ^elf-deceit, self-confidence, and hypocrisy, 
 iff One day when Mr. Thomas and Mr. Stock came-to see 
 him, they found him more than commonly affected. His 
 face was more gashly pale than usual, and his eyes were 
 red with crying. Oh, Sir, said he, what a sight have I just 
 seen ! Jolly George, as we used to call him, the ring-leader 
 of all our mirth, who was at the bottom of all the fun, and 
 tricks, and wickedness, that are carried on within these walls, 
 Jolly George is just dead of the jail-distemper ! He taken* 
 and I left ! I would he carried'into his room to speak to him^ 
 to beg him to take warning by me, and that I might take 
 warning by him. But what did J see! what did I hear! not 
 one sign of repentance, not one dawn of hope. Agony of 
 body, blasphemies on his tongue, despair in his soul ; while 
 lam spared and comforted with hopes of mercy and ac- 
 ceptance Oh, if all my old friends at the Greyhound could 
 but then have seen Jolly George ! A hundred sermons about 
 aeam, oir, don t speak so home, and cut so deep, as the sijrht 
 of one dying sinner. 6 
 
 Brown grew gradually better in his health, that is, the fe- 
 ver mended but the distemper settled in his limbs, so that 
 e seemed lively to be a poor weakly cripple the rest of his 
 te But as he spent much of his time in prayer, and in 
 
 ttolT ° ^ Bible aS Mr - Th — i«3 he 
 
 2°1 ? da V n know] ^ge and piety, and of course 
 ffftffir more resigned to pain and infirmity I 
 
 nev%Teen°r r thS ff ^ hM ^ted father, who had 
 3B was ed « P °^ t0 r him ' ° r 0fo Wtn thre least 
 
 S al h I ? Cn , off sud / lenl y h Y a ** of apoplexv-and, 
 ojK ho Se li e v ateningS , hC ^ With0Ut a will. He waJ 
 
 aiuj 1 Zfl mgmade ° ne ; and who the world 
 
 Sto set afoutf T " WOrld 80 that they 
 
 that they a e 5 ^ ma - V " ™** 
 
 hU'fathl " ot aIvv ays to live m it. As, by this neH-ct 
 
 in SLtfhef fX° r \T rS6 ^, W f with his brothers 
 
 e ™"gh to discE h : 7 hZt fC ' t0 him P roved t0 b = j««t 
 6 ooiscJiaige h im from pnson, and to pay all hh 
 
50 
 
 The five Shoemakers. 
 
 debts, but he had nothing left. His joy at being thus en. 
 abled to make restitution was so great, that he thought lit. 
 tie of his own wants. He did not desire to conceal the most 
 trifling debt, nor to keep a shilling for himself. 
 
 Mr. Stock undertook to settle all his affairs. There did 
 not remain money enough, after every creditor was satisfied, 
 even to pay his removal home. Mr. Stock kindly sent his 
 own cart for him with a bed in it, made as comfortable as 
 possible, for he was too weak and lame to be removed any 
 other way, and Mr. Stock gave the driver a particular charge 
 to be tender and careful of him, and not to drive hard, nor to 
 leave the cart a moment. 
 
 Mr. Stock would fain have taken him into his ownhousc, 
 at least for a time, so convinced was he of his sincere refer- 
 matron both of heart and life ; but Brown would not be pre- 
 vailed on to be further burthensome to this generous friend, 
 He insisted on being carried to the parish workhouse, which 
 he said was a far better place than he deserved. In tin's 
 house Mr. Stock furnished a small room for him, and sen} 
 him every day a morsel of meat from his own dinneiv- 
 Tommy^Williams begged that he might always be allowed 
 to carry it, as some atonement for his his having for a moment 
 so far forgotten his duty, as rather to rejoice than sympathize 
 in Brown's misfortunes. He never thought of ' this fault 
 without sorrow, and often thanked his master for the whole- 
 some lesson he then gave him, and he was the better tori: 
 all his life. 
 
 Mrs. Stock often carried poor Brown a bit of tea or bason 
 of good broth herself. He was quite a cripple, and ncvei 
 able .to walk out as long as he lived. Mr. Stock, Will Simp/ 
 son, and Tommy Williams, laid their heads together, and 
 contrived a sort of barrow, on whichhe was often carried to 
 church by some of his poor neighbours, of which Tommy 
 was akvays one ; and he requited their kindness by reading 
 a good book to them whenever they would call in, or teu'!:- 
 ing their children to sing psalms or say the catechism. 
 
 It was no small joy to him thus to be enabled to go to! 
 church. Whenever he was carried by the Greyhound., ^| 
 was much moved, and used to put up a prayer full of i f -p eR j 
 tence for the p^t, and praise for the nreseuj-- 
 
The tzco Shoemakers. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 This Hymn was frequently sung by Jack Brow 
 
 in the Workhouse. 
 
 BEHOLD the wretch whose lust and 
 Have wasted his estate ; 
 He begs a share among the swine, 
 To taste the husks they eat. 
 
 I die with hunger here, he cries, 
 
 I starve in foreign lands ; 
 My father's house has large supplies. 
 
 And bounteous are his hands. 
 
 I'll go, and with a mournful tongue 
 
 Fall down before his face, 
 Father, I've done thy justice wrong, 
 
 Nor can deserve thy grace. 
 
 He said, and hasten'd to his home, 
 
 To seek his father's love ; 
 The father saw the rebel come, 
 
 And all his bowels move. 
 
 He ran and fell upon his neck, 
 Embrac'd and kiss'd his son ; 
 
 The rebel's heart with sorrow breaks. 
 For sins which he had done. 
 
 Take off his clothes of shame and sin, 
 (The father gives command) 
 
 Dress him in garments white and clean, 
 With rings adorn his hand. 
 
 A day of feasting I ordain, 
 
 Let mirth and joy abound, 
 My son was dead, and lives again, 
 
 Was lost and now is found. 
 
 D 2 
 
52 The two Shoemakers* 
 
 part v. 
 
 A DIALOGUE 
 
 ■ 
 
 Between James Stock o/zcOVill. Simpson, the Shoemakers, 
 
 as they sat at work. 
 
 IT AMES STOCK, and his journeyman, Will Simpson, as 
 J) I informed my readers in the second part, had resolved to 
 work together one hour every evening, in order to pay for 
 Tommy Williams's schooling. This circumstance brought 
 them to be a good deal together when the rest of the men 
 were gone home. Now it happened that Mr. Stock had a 
 mighty way of endeavouring to turn all common events to 
 some use,, and he thought it right on the present occasion to 
 make the only return in his power to Will Simpson for his 
 great kindness. For, said he, if Will gives up so much of 
 his time to help me to provide for this poor boy, it is the least 
 I can do to try to turn part of that time to the purpose of 
 promoting Will's spiritual good. Now as the bent of Stock's 
 own mind was religious, it was easy to him to lead their talk 
 to something profitable. He always took especial care, how- 
 ever, that the subject should be introduced properly, chear- 
 fully, and without constraint. As he well knew that great 
 good may be sometimes done by a prudent attention in seiz- 
 ing proper opportunities, so he knew that the cause of piety 
 had been sometimes hurt by forcing serious subjects when 
 there was clearly no disposition to receive them. I say he 
 had found out that two things were necessary to the promot- 
 ing of religion among his friends — a warm zeal to he always 
 on the watch for occasions, and a cool judgment to distin- 
 guish which was the right time and place to make use of 
 them. To know how to do good is a great matter, bu< to 
 know 'when to do it is no small one. 
 
 Simpson was an honest good-natured fellow — -he was now 
 become sober, and rather religiously disposed. But he was 
 ignorant, he did now know much of the grounds of religion, 
 or of the corruption of his own nature ; ""he was regular at 
 
 4 
 
The two Shoemakers. 53 
 
 churchy but was" first drawn thither rather bv his skill in 
 psalm- singing, than by any great devotion. He had left off 
 going to the Greyhound, and often read the Bihle, or some 
 other good book on the Sunday evening. This he thought 
 was quite enough : he thought the Bible was the pretnest 
 history book in the world, and that religion was a very good 
 thing for Sundays. But he did not much; understand what 
 business people had with it on working days. Ho had left 
 off drinking because ir had brought Williams to the grave, 
 andliis wife to dirt and rags 5 but not because he himself had 
 seen the evil sin. He now considered swearingand sabbath- 
 breaking as scandalous and indecent, but he had not found 
 out that both were to he left off because they are highly of- 
 fensive to God, and grieve fats Holy Spirit. As Simpson was 
 less conceited than most ignorant people are, Stock had al- 
 ways a good hope, that when he should come to be better 
 acquainted with the the word ofGod, and with the evil of his 
 
 own heart, he would become one day a good Christian. . 
 
 The great hindrance to this was, that he fancied himself so 
 already. 
 
 One evening Simpson had been calling to Stock's mind 
 how disorderly the house and shop, whei e they were now 
 sitting quietly at work, had formerly been, and he went on 
 thus : 
 
 Will. How comfortably we live now, master, to what 
 we used to do in Williams's time ! I used then never ro be 
 happy but when we were keeping it up all night, but now I 
 am as merry as the day is long. I find I am twice as happy 
 since I am grown good and sober. 
 
 Stock. I am glad you are happy, Will, and I rejoice that 
 you are sober— but I would not have you take too much pride ' 
 in your own goodness for fear it should become a sin, almost 
 as great as some of those you have left off. Besides, I would 
 not have you make quite so sure that vou are good. 
 
 WW Not jgood master! why, don't vou find me regu- 
 lar and orderly at work ? ' 
 
 Stock Very much so, and accordingly I have a great 
 respect for you. b 
 
 Will. I pay every one his own, seldom miss church, have 
 not been drunk since Williams died, have handsome clothes 
 roi Sundays, and save a trifle every week. 
 
54 The ivo Shoemakers. 
 
 Stock, Very true, and very laudable it is — and to all this 
 you may add, that you very generously work an hour for 
 jjoorTommy's education, every evening, without fee or re- 
 ward. 
 
 Will. Well, master, what can a man do more? If all 
 this is not being good, 1 don't know wb~t is. 
 
 Stock, All these things are very right as far as they go, 
 and you could not well be a Christian without doing them. 
 But I shall make you stare, perhaps, when I tell you, you 
 may do all these things, and many mote, and yet be no 
 Christian ? > 
 
 Will. No Christian ! surely, master, I do hope that after 
 »H I have done, you will not be so unkind as to say I am no 
 Christian ? 
 
 Stock. God forbid that I should say so, Will. I hope 
 better things of you. But come now what do you think it 
 is to he a Christian ? 
 
 Will, What ! why to be christened when one is a child, 
 to learn the Catechism when one can read, to be confirmed 
 wKen one is a youth, and to go to church when one is a man. 
 
 8toik\ These are all very proper things, and quite neces- 
 sary. They make a part of a Christian's life. But for all that, 
 a man may be exact in them all, and vet not be a Christian. 
 
 Will, Not be a Christian ! ha ! ha \ ha ! you are very co- 
 mical, master. 
 
 Stock. No, indeed, I am very serious, Will. At this rate 
 it would be a very easy thing to be a Christian, and every 
 man who went through certain forms would be a good man; 
 and one man who observed these forms would be as good as 
 another. Whereas, if we come to examine ourselves by the 
 word of God, I am afraid there are but few, comparatively, 
 whom our Saviour would allow to be real Christians. What 
 is your notion of a Christian's practice ? 
 
 Will. Why, he must not rob, nor murder, nor get drunk. 
 He must avoid scandalous things, and do as other decent or- 
 derly people do. 
 
 Stock. It is easy enough to be whit the world calls a 
 Christian, but not to be what the Bible calls so. 
 
 With Why, master, we working men are not expected 
 incs, and martyrs, and apostles, and ministers. 
 ' . We are not. And yet, Will, there are not two sorts 
 
 Christianity — we are called to practice the same Religion 
 
The two Shoemakers, §g 
 
 which they practised, and something of the same spirit isex- 
 pected in us which we reverence in them. It was not saints 
 and martyrs only to whom our Savior said that thev must 
 " crucify the world with its affections and lusts. 5 ' We are 
 called to ' be holy / in our measure and degree, 4 as he who 
 hath called us is holy.' It was not only saints and martyrs 
 who were told that they must be 4 like-minded with Christ.' 
 That they must " do all to the edory of God." That thev 
 must " renounce the spirit of the world, and deny them- 
 selves. " It was not to apostles only that Christ said, " they 
 must have their conversation in Heaven." It was not to a 
 few holy men set apart for the altar, that he said — " thev 
 must set their afFe< tlom on things above." — That thev 
 " must not be conformed to the world." No, it was to 
 fishermen, to publicans, to farmers, to day-labourers, to poo: 
 tradesmen, that he spoke when he told them thev must " low 
 not the world, nor the things of the world." That thev 
 " must renounce the hidden things of dishonesty, grow in 
 grace, lay up for themselves treasures in Heaven." 
 
 W ill. All this might be very proper for them to be raugh:. 
 because they had not been bred up Christians, but Heather, 
 or Jews ; and Christ wanted to make them his followers, 
 that is Christians. But thank God, we do not want to br 
 taught all this, for we are Christians, born in a Christian 
 country, of Christian parents. 
 
 Stock, I suppose then you fancy that Christianity come? 
 t® people in a Christian country by nature ? 
 
 Will. I think it comes by a good education or a good ex- 
 ample.^ When a fellow who has got any sense sees a n*aa 
 cut oftin his prime by drinking, I think he will begin to leave 
 it off. When he sees another man respected, like you, 
 master, for honesty and sobriety, and going to church, why 
 he will grow honest and sober and go to church ; that is, he 
 will see it his advantage to be a Christian. 
 
 Stock. Will, what you say is uuth, but 'tis not the 
 whole truth. You are right as far as vou go, but you &i 
 not go far enough. The worldly advantages of pietv, are, 
 as you suppose, in general great. Credit, prosperity-, an. 1 
 nealth, almost naturally attend on a religious life, both be- 
 cause a religious life supposes a sober and industrious life;, 
 and because a man who lives in a course of duty, puts him- 
 seU in a way f God's blessing. But a true Christian has a 
 
The tzso Shoemakers. 
 
 still higher aim in view, and will follow religion even under 
 circumstances, when it may hurt his credit and may ruin his 
 prosperity, if it should ever happen to be the will of God 
 that he should be brought into such a trying state. 
 
 Will. Well, master, to speak the truth, if I go to church 
 on Sundays, and follow* my work in the week. I must say I 
 think that is hem? o-ood. 
 
 Stoek. I agree with you, that he who does both, gives the 
 t>es^ outward signs that he is good, as you call it. But our 
 going to church, and even reading the Bible, are no proofs 
 that we are as good as we need be, but rather that we do both 
 these in order to make us better than we are. We do both 
 on Sundays, as means, by God's blessing, to make us better 
 all the week. We are to bring the fruits of that chapter or 
 that sermon into our daily life, and try to get our inmost 
 heart and secret thoughtSj as well as our daily conduct a- 
 mended by them. 
 
 IV ill. Why sure, master, you won't be so unreasonable 
 as to want a body to be religious always ? I can't do that, 
 neither. I'm not such a hypocrite as to pretend it. 
 
 Slock. Yes, vou can be so in everv action of vour life? 
 
 Wild. What, master, always to bethinking about religion? 
 
 Stock. No, far. from it,' Will — much less to he always 
 talking about it. But you must be always acting under its 
 power and spirit. 
 
 Will. But surely 'tis pretty well if I do' this' when I go 
 to church, or while I am saying my pravers. Even you, 
 master, as strict as you are, would not have me always on 
 my knees, nor always at churchy I suppose : for then how 
 would your work be carried on, and how would our town 
 be supplied with shoes ? 
 
 Stock. Very true, Will. *T would he no proof of out 
 religion to let our customers go baie-foot, but 'twould be a 
 proof of our laziness, and we should starve' as we ought to 
 do. The business of the world must not only %t carried on, 
 but carried on with spirit and activity. We have the same 
 authority for not being slothful in business as we have for be- 
 ing fervent in spirit. Religion has put godliness and laziness 
 as wide asunder as any two things in the world ; and what 
 God has separated let no man pretend to join. Indeed, the 
 spirit of religion canhaveno fellowship with sloth, indolence? 
 
and self-indulgence. But still, a Christian does not cany on 
 his common trade quite like anothei man neither j for some- 
 thing of the spirit which he labours to attain at church, he 
 carries with him into his worldly concerns. While there are 
 ; some who set up for Sunday Christians, who have no notion 
 ? that they are bound to be week-day Christians too. 
 
 Will. Why, master, 1 do think if God Almighty is con- 
 tented with one day in seven, he won't thank you for th.ro w- 
 I ing him the other six into the bargain. I thought he gave 
 *||i4s them for our own use, and I am sure nobody works 
 I harder all the week than you do. 
 
 Stock. God, it is true, sets apart one day "in seven for 
 factual rest from labour, and for more immediate devotion to 
 Ibis service. But shew me that text wherein he says, thou 
 Mshaltlove the Lord thy God on Sundays — Thou shalt keep 
 fcny commandments on the Sabbath-day — To be carnally 
 •[minded on Sundays, is death — Cease to do evil, and learn to 
 do well one day in seven — Grow in grace o.n the Lord's 
 Day.— Is there any such text ? 
 
 Will. No, to be sure there is not, for that would be en- 
 couraging sin in all the other days. 
 
 | Stock. Yes, just as you do when you make religion a 
 thing for the church and not for the world. There is no 
 one lawful calling in pursuing which we may not serve God 
 acceptably. You and I may serve him while we are stitch- 
 ing this pair of boots. Farmer Furrow, while he is plow- 
 ing yonder field. Betsy West, over the way, while she is 
 nursing her sick mother. Neighbour Inde, in rneasonW 
 out his tapes and ribbonds. 1 say, all these may serve God 
 
 just as acceptably in those employments as at church, I had 
 almost said more so. 
 
 Aye, indeed— how can that be? Now you're toe 
 much on t'other side. ; 
 
 th^r° Ck ' ? eca " se a m ™' s trials in trade being often greater, 
 the ,£ Ve - hlm / re f h means of glorifying God, and proving 
 nam T J K y A ™n who mixes in business, if 
 
 3W Wi° U § !5 ,nt0 contlnual temptations and difficulties. 
 God fhT 11 eadhl ^ ifh ebeagoodman, to lo.k more to 
 Son son ^ T W ° Ulfl Gtherwise ^ He sees temp- 
 mZZ i, e : ight W and he s mat there 
 
 snaies all around him, this makes him watchful : he feel 
 
 E 
 
5$ 
 
 The tzvo Shoemakers. 
 
 that the enemy within is too ready to betray him, this makes 
 him humble himself: while a sense of his own difficulties 
 makes him tender to the failings of others. 
 
 Will. Then you would make one believe after all, that 
 trade and business must be sinful in itself, since it brings a 
 m:m into all these snares and scrapes. 
 
 Stock. No, no, Will — trade and business don't create evil 
 passions — they were in the heart before — onlyjiow and then 
 they seem to lie snug a little — our concerns with the world 
 bring them out into action a little more, and thus shew both 
 ourselves and others what we really are. But then, t\s the 
 world offers mere trials on the one hand, so on the other it 
 holds out more duties, [f we are called to battle oftener, we 
 have more opportunities of victory. Every 'emptation re- 
 sisted, is an enemy subdued, and " He that ruleth his own 
 spirit, is better than he that taketh a city." 
 
 Will. I don't quite understand you, master. 
 
 Stock, I will try to explain myself. There is no passion 
 more called out by the transactions of trade, than covetous- 
 ness. Now 'tis impossible tb withstand such a master-sin 
 as that, without carrying a good deal of the spirit of religi- 
 on into one's trade. 
 
 Will Well, I own I don't yet see bow I am to be reli- 
 gious, when I am hard at work, or busy settling an account. 
 1 can't do two things at once— 'tis as if I were to pretend to 
 make a shoe and cut out a boot at the same moment. 
 
 Stock. I tell vou both must subsist together. Nay, the 
 one must be the'motive to the other. God commands us to 
 be industrious, and if we love him, the desire of pleasing 
 him should be the main spring of our industry. 
 
 IVdL I don't see how I can be always thinking about 
 pleasing God. 
 
 Stock. Suppose, now, a man had a wife and children 
 whom he loved, and wished to serve, would he not be often 
 thinking about them while he was at Work? and though h 
 would not be always thinking about them, yet would no' 
 the very love he bore them be a constant spur to his industry' 
 He wi)u!d always be pursuing the same course from tb 
 same motive, though his words and even his thoughts v0 
 often be taken up in the common transactions of life. 
 
 (Pill. Well- t sav first one, then the other — now for ■ 
 hour, now for religion. 
 
inv izco Shoemakers. r } g 
 
 Stock. I will shew that both must go together. I wit! 
 suppose you were gomg to buy so many skins of our currier 
 
 that is quite a worldly transaction — you can't see whkt a 
 
 spirit of religion has to do with buying a few calves' skins:. 
 Now, I tell you, it has a great deal to do with it. Covetous- 
 ness, a desire to make a good bargain, may rise up in your 
 heart. Selfishness, a spirit of monopoly, a wish to get all, 
 in order to distress others — these are evil desires, and must he 
 subdued. Some opportunity of unfair gain offers, in which 
 there may be much sin, and yet little scandal. Here a Chris- 
 tian will stop short, he will recollect, 'ihat he who maketli 
 haste to be rich, shall hardly be innocent.' Perhaps the sin 
 mav be on the side of your dealer— he may Want to over- 
 reach you — this is provoking — you are tempted to violent 
 anger, perhaps to swear — here is a fresh demand on you for 
 a spirit of patience and moderation, as there was before for a 
 spirit of justice and self-denial. If, by God's grace, you get 
 the victory over these temptations, you are tl e betmter an 
 jfor having been called out to them; always provided, that 
 the temptations be not of you own seeking. 4f you give vvav 
 and sink under these temptations, don't go and say that trade 
 and business have mr. le you covetous, passionate, and pro- 
 fane. No, no — depend upon it, you were so before ; vou 
 would have had all these evil seeds lurking in your heart if 
 you had been loitering about at home, and doing nothing, 
 with the additional sin of .idleness into the bargain. When 
 [you are busy, the devil often. tempts you ; when f4# are idle 
 r ou tempt the devil. If business and the world call these 
 ml tempers into action, business and the world Gall that re- 
 igion into action too which teaches us to resist them. And 
 n this you see the week-day fruit of Sunday's piety. 'Tis> 
 rade and business in the week, which call us to put our Sun- 
 ay readings, praying, and church- going into practice. 
 Will, Well, master, you have a comical way, somehow, 
 f coming over one. I never should have thought there 
 vould have been any religion wanted in buying and selling a 
 ew calves' skins. But, I becrin to see there is a good deal 
 n what you say. And, whenever I am doing a common 
 action, will try to remember that it must be done after a 
 godly sort. 
 
 F Stock. I hear the clock strike nine—let us leave off our 
 Fork. I will only observe farther, that one good end of oar 
 
xkc iwo Shoemakers. 
 
 bringing religion into our business is, to put us in mind iv 
 to undertake more business than we can carry on consistently 
 with our religion. I shall never commend that man's difc 
 gence, though it is often commended by the world, who i s 
 not diligent about tire salvation of his soul. We are as much 
 forbidden to be overcharged with the Cares of life, as with 
 its pleasures. I only wish to prove to you that a discreet 
 Christian may be wise for both worlds : that he may employ 
 Ins hands without entangling his soul, and labour for the 
 meat that perisheth, without neglecting that which endur- 
 eth unto eternal life ; that he may be prudent for time, while 
 he is wise for eternity. Z, 
 
 THE HYMN. 
 
 OTHAT the Lord would guide my ways, 
 To keep his statutes still ! 
 
 that my God would give me grace 
 To know and do his will ! 
 
 Lord, send thy spirit down to write^ 
 
 Thy love upon my heart, 
 Nor let my tongue indulge deceit, 
 
 Nor act a liar's part. 
 
 From vanity, lord, turn mine eyes, 
 
 Let no corrupt design, 
 No covetous desires arise 
 
 Within this soul of mine. 
 
 Order my footsteps by thy word. 
 
 And make my heart sincere ; 
 Let sin have no dominion, Lord, 
 But keep my conscience clear. * 
 
 My soul hath gone too far astray, 
 My feet too often slip ; 
 
 1 would not, Lord, forget the way, 
 Bring back thy wandering sheep. 
 
 Make me to walk in thy commands, r 
 
 'Tis a delightful road : 
 Nor let my feet, orbeart, or hands, 
 
 Offend against my God. 
 
 *#* Just published The Two Shoemakers, Part the 6th; on I 
 
 the duty of carrying Religion into our Amusements. Price tf> £ 
 
 Howard and Evans, Printer s 3 42 : Long Lane,