UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Class Book Volume 
 
 Ja 09-20M
 
 Return this book on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 University of Illinois Library 
 
 L161— H41
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ.
 
 * John Buncle is the English Rabelais.' The 
 soul of Francis Rabelais passed into Thomas Amory, the 
 author of the Life and Advrntures of John Buncle j both 
 were Physicians, and enemies of too much j^ravity. 
 Their great business was to enjoy life. Rabelais in- 
 dulg-es his spirit of sensuality in wine, in dried neat's 
 tong-ues, in Bologna sausages, in Botargos. John Buncle 
 shews the same symptoms of inordinate satisfaction in 
 tea and bread and butter. While Rabelais roared with 
 Friar John and the JMonks, John Buncle gossipped with 
 the ladies; and with equal and uncontrolled gaiety. 
 These two authors possessed all the insolence of health, 
 so that their works give a fillip to the Constitution ^ but 
 they carried off the exuberance of their natural spirits 
 in different ways. The title of one of Rabelais' chap- 
 ters, and the contents answer to the title, is, ' How they 
 chirped over their cup.' The title of a corresponding 
 chapter in John Buncle would run thus : — ' The author 
 is invited to spend the evening with the divine Miss 
 Hawkins, and goes accordingly, \vith the delightful con- 
 versation that ensued.'
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 OP 
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 
 
 THOMAS AMORY, Gent. 
 
 A NEW EDITION. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SEPTIMUS PROWETT, 23, OLD BOND STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXV.
 
 
 T. WnrTE, PRINTER, 
 JOIINSUk's COUUT, fleet STREl t. 

 
 e 
 
 "- THE LIFE 
 
 o 
 
 z. 
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ 
 
 Nee Vixit Male, qai Natus Moriensqne fefcUit. 
 
 0" 
 
 That the transactions of my life, and the observa- 
 tions and reflections I have made on men and 
 :> things, by sea and land, in various parts of the 
 world, might not be buried in oblivion, and by 
 length of time, be blotted out of the memory of 
 jjO men, it has been my wont, from the days of my 
 -^ youth to this time, to write down memorandums of 
 every thing I thought worth noticing, as men and 
 "Z. matters, books and circumstances, came in my way ; 
 Jj and in hopes they may be of some service to my 
 P fellow-mortals I publish them. Some pleasing and 
 some surprising things the reader will find in them. 
 J He will meet with miscellany thoughts upon seve- 
 tf* ral subjects. He will read, if he pleases, some 
 ^ tender stories. But all the relations, the thoughts, 
 
 B 
 
 1421^ o 
 
 .Jk-C-^
 
 2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the observations, are designed for the advancement 
 of valuable learning-, and to promote whatsoever 
 things are true, whatsoever things are honest, 
 whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are 
 pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever 
 things are of good report. 
 
 About fifty years ago the midwife wheeled me 
 in, and much sooner than half a century hence, 
 in all human probability, death will wheel me out. 
 When Heaven pleases, I am satisfied. Life and 
 death are equally welcome, because equally parts 
 of my way to eternity. My lot has been a swarthy 
 one in this first state, and I am in hopes I shall 
 exchange worlds to advantage. As God, without 
 all perad venture, brought his moral creatures into 
 being, in order to increase their virtue, and provide 
 suitable happiness for the worthy, the most unfor- 
 tunate here may expect immutable felicity at last, 
 if they have endeavoured, in proportion to what 
 power they had, to render themselves useful and 
 valuable, by a sincerity and benevolence of temper, 
 a disinterestedness, a communicativeness, and the 
 practice of those duties, to which we are obliged 
 by the frame of our nature, and by the relations we 
 bear to God, and to the subjects of his government. 
 
 For my part, I confess that, many have been the 
 failings of my life, and great the defects of my obe-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, E9Q. 
 
 dience. But in the midst of all my failings and 
 imperfections, my soul hath always sympathised 
 with the afflicted, and my heart hath ever aked for 
 the miseries of others. My hand has often relieved 
 when I wanted the shilling to comfort myself, and 
 when it hath not been in my power to relieve, I 
 have grieved for the scanty accommodations of 
 others. Many troublesome and expensive offices I 
 have undertaken to do good to men, and ever so- 
 cial and free have I been in my demeanour, easy 
 and smooth in my address ; and therefore I trust ' 
 that, whenever I am removed from this horizon, it 
 will be from a dark and cloudy state, to that of joy, 
 light, and full revelation. This felicitates my every 
 day, let what happen from without. This supports 
 me under every affliction, and enables me to main- 
 tain a habit of satisfaction and joy in the general 
 course of my life. 
 
 The things of my childhood are not worth setting 
 down, and therefore I commence my life from the 
 first month of the seventeenth year of my age, when 
 I was sent to the university, in 1720, and entered 
 a pensioner, though I had a larger yearly allow- 
 ance than any fellow-commoner of my college. I 
 was resolved to read there, and determined to im- 
 prove my natural faculties to the utmost of my 
 power. Nature, I was sensible, had bestowed no
 
 4 THE LIFE OF 
 
 genius on me. This, and understanding, are only 
 the privilege of extraordinary persons, who receive 
 from Heaven the happy conjunction of quahties, 
 that they may execute great and noble designs, and 
 acquire the higliest pitch of excellence in the pro- 
 fession they turn to, if they will take the pains to 
 perfect the united qualities by art, and carefully 
 avoid running into caprice and paradox ; the rocks 
 on which many a genius has split. But then I had 
 a tolerable share of natural understanding, and from 
 my infancy was teachable, and always attentive to 
 the directions of good sense. This I knew might 
 rise with some labour, to a half merit, though it 
 could never gain immortality upon any account : 
 and this was enough for me. I wanted only to ac- 
 quire such degrees of perfections as lay within the 
 small sphere nature had chalked out for me. 
 
 To this purpose I devoted my college life to 
 books, and for five years that I resided in the uni- 
 versity, conversed so much with the dead that I had 
 very little intercourse with the living. So totally 
 had letters engaged my mind, that I was but little 
 affected towards most other things. Walking and 
 music were my favourite recreations, and almost 
 the only ones I delighted in. I had hardly a thought 
 at that time of the foolish choices and pursuits of 
 men, those fatal choices and pursuits which are
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 owing to false judgments, and to a habit of acting 
 precipitantly, without examining the fancies and 
 appetites ; and therefore very rarely went into the 
 pleasures and diversions which men of fortune in a 
 university too commonly indulge in. My relaxation 
 after study was my german-flute and the conversa- 
 tion of some ingenious, sober friend, generally my 
 private tutor, Mr. John Bruce, who was a bright 
 and excellent man, and of whom you will find a 
 large account in the first volume of my Memoirs of 
 several Ladies of Great Britain, 17''j5, Svo- p. 7* If 
 the weather permitted, I walked out into the country 
 several miles. At this exercise I had often one or 
 other with me; but for the most part was obliged 
 to go alone. My dog and my gun however were 
 diversion enough on the way, and they frequently 
 led me into scenes of entertainment, which lasted 
 longer than the day. Some of them you will find 
 in this Journal, The history of the beautiful Har- 
 riet Noel you shall have by and by. 
 
 At present, my scheme requires me to set down 
 the method 1 pursued in my readings, and let my 
 reader know the issue of my studies. My time I 
 devoted to philosophy, cosmography, mathematics, 
 and the languages, for four years, and the fifth, I 
 gave to history. 
 
 The first book I took into my hand, after receiv-
 
 6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ing my note of admission, was the Essay of that 
 fine genius, Mr. Locke, and 1 was so pleased with 
 this clear and accurate writer, that I looked into 
 nothing else, till, by reading it three times over, I 
 had made a thorough acquaintance with my own 
 understanding. He taught me to examine my abi- 
 lities, and enabled me to see what objects my mind 
 was fitted to deal with. He led me into the sanc- 
 tuary of vanity and ignorance, and shewed me how 
 greatly true knowledge depended on a right mean- 
 ing of words, and a just significancy of expression. 
 In sum, from the Essay my understanding received 
 very great benefits, and to it I owe what improve- 
 ment I have made in the reason given me. If I 
 could, I would persuade all young gentlemen to read 
 it over and over with great attention, and I am 
 sure they would find themselves very richly re- 
 warded for their pains in reading it. They would 
 acquire that justness and truth of understanding, 
 which is the great perfection of rational beings. 
 
 When I had done, for a time, with this admirable 
 Essay, I then began to study the first principles of 
 things, the structure of the universe, the contex- 
 ture of human bodies, the properties of beasts, the 
 virtues of plants, and the qualities of metals, and 
 was quite charmed with the contemplation of the 
 beautiful order, and wise finaj causes of nature in
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 all her laws and productions. The study had a de- 
 lightful influence on the temper of my mind, and 
 inspired into it a love of order in my heart, and in 
 my outward manners. It likewise led me to tiie 
 great first cause, and in repeated views of harmony, 
 wisdom, and goodness, in all the works of nature, 
 riveted upon my mind a fixed conviction, that all is 
 under the administration of a general mind, as far 
 remote from all malice as from all weakness, whe- 
 ther in respect of understanding, or of power. This 
 gave me a due affection towards the infinitely per- 
 fect Parent of P^ature; and as I contemplated his 
 glorious works, I was obliged in transports to con- 
 fess, that he deserved our love and admiration. 
 This did also satisfy me, that whatever the order of 
 the world produces, is in the main both just and 
 good, and of consequence that we ought in the 
 best manner to support whatever hardships are to 
 be endured for virtue's sake : that acquiescence and 
 complacency with respect to ill accidents, ill men 
 and injuries, ought to be our part under a perfect 
 administration ; and with benignity and constancy 
 we must ever act, if there be a settled persuasion 
 that all things are framed and governed by an uni- 
 versal mind. Such was the effect the study jof na- 
 tural philosophy had upon my soul. It set beyond 
 all doubt before me the moral perfection of the
 
 8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Creator and Governor of the universe. And if this 
 Almighty God, I said, is perfect wisdom and vir- 
 tue, does it not follow that he must approve and 
 love those who are at due pains to improve in wis- 
 dom ; and what he loves and delights in, must he 
 not make happy ? This is an evident truth. It ren- 
 ders the cause of virtue quite triumphant. 
 
 But upon ethics or moral philosophy 1 dwelt the 
 longest. This is the proper food of the soul, and 
 what perfects it in all the virtues and qualifications 
 of a gentleman. This science I collected in the 
 first place from the antient sages and philosophers, 
 and studied all the moral writers of Greece and 
 Rome. With great pleasure I saw that these im- 
 mortal authors had delineated, as far as human 
 reason can go, that course of life which is most ac- 
 cording to the intention of nature, and most happy; 
 had shewn that this universe, and human nature in 
 particular, was formed by the wisdom and counsel 
 of a Deity, and that from the constitution of our 
 nature various duties arose : that since God is the 
 original independent being, complete in all possible 
 perfection, of boundless power, wisdom, and good- 
 ness ; the Creator, Contriver, and Governor of this 
 world, to whom mankind are indebted for innu- 
 merable benefits most gratuitously bestowed; we 
 ought to manifest the most ardent love and venera-
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 9 
 
 tion toward the Deity, and worship him with af- 
 fections of soul suited to the pre-eminence and in- 
 finite grandeur of the original cause of all ; ought 
 to obey him, as far as human weakness can go, 
 and humbly submit and resign ourselves and all 
 our interests to his will ; continually confide in his 
 goodness, and constantly imitate him, as far as 
 our weak nature is capable. This is due to that 
 original most gracious power who formed us, and 
 with a liberal hand supplies us with all things 
 conducive to such pleasure and happiness as our 
 nature can receive. That in respect of mankind, 
 our natural sense of right and wrong, points out to 
 us the duties to be performed towards others, and 
 the kind affections implanted by nature, excites us 
 to the discharge of them : that by the law of our 
 constitution and nature, justice and benevolence 
 are prescribed ; and aids and an intercourse of mu- 
 tual offices required, not only to secure our plea- 
 sure and happiness, but to preserve ourselves in 
 safety and in life : that the law of nature, or natu- 
 ral right, forbids every instance of injustice, a vio- 
 lation of life, liberty, health, property; and the 
 exercise of our honourable, kind powers, are not 
 only a spring of vigorous efforts to do good to others, 
 and thereby secure the common happiness ; but 
 they really procure us a joy and peace, an inward
 
 10 THE LIFE OF 
 
 applause and external advantages ; while injustice 
 and malice, anger, hatred, envy, and revenge, are 
 often matter of shame and remorse, and contain 
 nothing joyful, nothing glorious : in the greatest 
 affluence, the savage men are miserable ; that as 
 to ourselves, the voice of reason declares, that we 
 ought to employ our abilities and opportunities in 
 improving our minds to an extensive knowledge of 
 nature in the sciences ; and by diligent meditation 
 and observation, acquire that prudence, justice, 
 temperance, and fortitude, which should constantly 
 govern our lives. That solid prudence, which ab- 
 hors rashness, inconsiderateness, a foolish self- 
 confidence, and craft, and under a high sense qf 
 moral excellence^ considers and does what is really 
 advantageous in life. That justice, which con- 
 stantly regards the common interest, and in sub- 
 serviency to it, gives to each one whatever is due 
 to him upon any natural claim. That temperance, 
 which restrains and regulates the lower appetites, 
 and displays the grace and beauty of manners. 
 And that fortitude, which represses all vain and 
 excessive fears, gives us a superiority to all the ex- 
 ternal accidents of our mortal state, and strengthens 
 the soul against all toils or dangers we may be ex- 
 posed to in discharge of our duty ; as an early and 
 painful death with virtue and honour, is highly pre-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. H 
 
 ferable to the longest ignominious life, and no ad- 
 vantages can be compared, in point of happiness, 
 with the approbation of God, and of our own hearts. 
 
 That if in this manner we live prepared for any 
 honourable services to God, our fellows, and our- 
 selves, and practice piety toward God, good-will 
 toward men, and immediately aim at our own per 
 fection, then we may expect, notwithstanding our 
 being involved in manifold weaknesses and disor- 
 ders of soul, that the divine goodness and clemency 
 will have mercy on such as sincerely love him, and 
 desire to serve him with duty and gratitude ; will be 
 propitious and placable to the penitents, and all 
 who exert their utmost endeavours in the pursuit of 
 virtue : and since the perfection of virtue must con- 
 stitute the supreme felicity of man, our efforts to 
 attain it must be effectual in obtaining complete fe- 
 licity, or at least some lower degree of it. 
 
 This beautiful, moral philosophy, I found scat- 
 tered in the writings of the old theist philosophers, 
 and with great pains reduced the various lessons to 
 a system of active and virtuous offices : but this 1 
 knew was what the majority of mankind were in- 
 capable of doing; and if they could do it, 1 saw it 
 was far inferior to revelation. Every Sundayl ap- 
 propriated to the study of revealed religion, and 
 perceived as I read the sacred records, that the
 
 1'4 TflE LIFE OF 
 
 works of Plato, and Cicero, and Epictetus, and all 
 the uninspired sages of antiquity, were but weak 
 rules in respect of the divine oracles. It is the 
 mercy and power of God in the triumphs of grace, 
 that restores mankind from the bondage and igno- 
 rance of idolatry. To this the sinner owes the con- 
 version of his soul. Tt is the statutes of the Lord 
 that rejoice the heart and enlighten the eyes. What 
 are all the reasonings of the philosophers to the me- 
 lody of that heavenly voice which cries continually 
 " Come unto me all ye that travel and are heavy 
 laden, and I will refresh you." And what could 
 their lessons avail without those express promises of 
 grace and spiritual assistance, which the blood of 
 the new covenant confirms to mankind ? The phi- 
 losophy of Greece and Rome was admirable for the 
 times and men : but it admits of no comparison 
 with the divine lessons of our holy religion, and 
 the charter of God's pardon granted to us by his 
 blessed Son. Beside, the philosophers were in 
 some degree dark and doubtful in respect of death 
 and futurity ; and in relation to this world, there is 
 not a power in their discourses, to preserve us from 
 being undone by allurements, in the midst of plenty, 
 and to secure our peace against the casualties of 
 fortune, and the torments of disappointments; to 
 save us from the cares and solicitudes which attend
 
 JOHN EUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 13 
 
 upon large possessions, and give us a mind capable 
 of relishing the good things before us ; to make us 
 easy and satisfied as to the present, and render us 
 secure and void of fear as to the future. These 
 things we learn from revelation, and are informed 
 by the sacred records only, that if we are placed 
 here in the midst of many fears and sorrows, and 
 are often perplexed with evils in this world ; they 
 are so many warnings not to set up our rest here, 
 but to keep a stedfast eye upon the things which 
 God has prepared for those who love him. It is the 
 gospel informs us, there is another scene prepared 
 for the moral world, and that justice only waits to 
 see the full proof of the righteousness, or un- 
 righteousness of men : that that scene will open 
 with the judgment seat of Christ, and we shall 
 either receive glory and immortality, if we have 
 obeyed the calls of grace to virtue and holiness ; or, 
 be doomed to the most dreadful miseries, if we re- 
 ject the counsel of God, and live quite thoughtless 
 of the great concerns of eternity. These considera- 
 tions made me prefer revealed religion, in the be- 
 ginning of my rational life. The morality of the 
 antient philosophers I admired. With delight I 
 studied their writings, and received, I gratefully 
 confess, much improvement from them. But the 
 religion of our blessed Lord I declared for, and
 
 14 THE LIFE OF 
 
 look on the promised Messiah as the most consum- 
 mate blessing God could bestow, or man receive. 
 God having raised up his son Jesus, sent him to 
 bless you, in turning every one of you from your 
 iniquities. And would men but hear and obey this 
 life-giving Redeemer, his gospel would restore rea- 
 son and religion to their rightful authority over 
 mankind ; and make all virtue, and true goodness, 
 flourish in the earth. 
 
 But 1 must observe that, by the religion of the 
 New Testament, I do not mean any of those modern 
 .schemes of religion, which discover the evident 
 marks and signatures of superstition and enthu- 
 siasm, or of knavery and imposture ; those systems 
 which even miracles cannot prove to be true, be- 
 cause the pieties are absurd, inconsistent, and 
 contradictory. The notions that are not charac- 
 terised by the reason of things, and the moral fit- 
 ness of actions, 1 considered as repugnant to the 
 veracity, wisdom and goodness of the Almighty, 
 and concluded, that that only could be christian 
 religion, which bore the visible marks and signa- 
 tures of benevolence, social happiness, and moral 
 fitness, and was brought down from heaven to in- 
 struct mankind in the worship of one eternal mind, 
 and bring them to repentance, and amendment of 
 life. This was the religion I found in my Bible. I
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 15 
 
 saw with pleasure, as I thoughtfully went through 
 the divine pages, that natural religion is the foun- 
 dation and support of revelation : supplies the de- 
 fects of nature, but never attempts to overthrow the 
 estabhshed principles of it, and casts new light 
 upon the dictates of reason, but never overthrows 
 them. Pure theism, and Christ the appointed Me- 
 diator, Advocate, and Judge, by a commission 
 from God the Father, to me appeared to be the 
 gospel ; and the directions of the Holy Spirit, to be- 
 lieve in one supreme independent first cause, and 
 worship in spirit and truth this one God and Fa- 
 ther of all, in the name of Christ Jesus; as the 
 disciples of the Messiah ; to copy after the life of 
 our blessed Saviour, and to the utmost of our abi- 
 lities, obey all his commands. This was the reli- 
 gion I found in the writings of the apostles, and I 
 then determined to regard only this gospel doctrine. 
 The manner of my, studying cosmography and 
 mathematics is not worth setting down, as there 
 was nothing uncommon in it. In the one I only 
 learned to distinguish climates, latitudes, and the 
 four divisions of the world ; the provinces, nations, 
 kingdoms and repubhcs comprised therein, and to 
 be able to discourse upon them. And in the other, 
 I went no further than to make myself a master of 
 vulgar and decimal arithmetic, the doctrine of infi-
 
 1(3 THE LIFE OF 
 
 nite series, and the application of algebra, to the 
 higher geometry of curves. Algebra 1 was charmed 
 with, and found so much pleasure in resolving its 
 questions, that I have often sat till morning at the 
 engaging work, without a notion of its being day 
 till I opened the shutters of my closet. I recom- 
 mend this study in particular to young gentlemen, 
 and am satisfied, if they would but take some pains 
 at first to understand it, they would have so great 
 a relish for its operations, as to prefer them many 
 an evening to clamorous pleasures ; or, at least, 
 not be uneasy for being alone now and then, since 
 their algebra was wilh them. 
 
 In reading history, my last year's principal em- 
 ployment, during my residence in college, I began 
 with the best writers of antient history and ended 
 with modern times, epochs, centuries, ages ; the 
 extent of empires, kingdoms, commonwealths; their 
 progress, revolutions, changes and declensions ; 
 the number, order, and qualities of the princes that 
 have reigned over those states and kingdoms, their 
 actions military and civil; the characters and ac- 
 tions of the great men that flourished under them ; 
 and the laws, the arts, learning and manners, 
 I carefully marked down, and observed not 
 only how the first governments were formed, but 
 what the progress was of industry and property.
 
 JOHN BTTNCLE, ESQ, 17 
 
 which may be called the generative principle of 
 empire, 
 
 V/hen I had done with antient history, I sat 
 down to the best modern stories I could get, and 
 read of distant nations before 1 began to study my 
 country's constitution, history and laws. When I 
 had -finished the histories of France, Spain, Italy, 
 and Germany, and many more, then I turned to 
 Great Britain, and in the first place took a view of 
 the English constitution and government, in the 
 antient books of the common law, and some more 
 modern writers, who out of them have given an ac- 
 count of this government. From thence I pro- 
 ceeded to our history, and with it joined in every 
 king's reign the laws then made. This gave me an 
 insight into the reason of our statutes, and shewed 
 me the true ground upon which they came to be 
 made, and what weight they ought to have. By this 
 means I read the history of ray country with intelli- 
 gence, and was able to examine into the excellence 
 or defects of its government, and to judge of the fit- 
 ness or unfitness of its orders and laws. By this 
 method I likewise knew enough of the law for an 
 English gentleman, though quite ignorant of the 
 chicane, or wrangling and captious part, and was 
 well acquainted with the true measure of right and 
 wrong. The arts how to avoid doing right, and 
 
 VOL. 1. c
 
 18 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to secure one's-self in doing wrong, I never looked 
 into. 
 
 Thus did I read history, and many noble lessons 
 I learned from it; just notions of true worth, true 
 greatness, and solid happiness. It taught me to 
 place merit where it only lies, not in birth, not in 
 beauty, not in riches, not in external shew and 
 magnificence, not in voluptuousness ; but, in a 
 firm adherence to truth and rectitude ; in an un- 
 tainted heart, that would not pollute or prostitute 
 its integrity in any degree, to gain the highest 
 worldly honours, or to ward off the greatest worldly 
 misery. This is true magnanimity : and he alone 
 can be truly happy, as well as truly great, who can 
 look down with generous contempt upon every 
 thing that would tempt him to recede in the smallest 
 degree from the paths of rigid honesty, candour 
 and veracity. 
 
 Es modicns voti, presso lare, dulcis amicis ; 
 Jam nunc astringas; jam nunc granaria laxes; 
 Inque lute fixum possis transcendere nummum j 
 Nee glutto sorbere salivam Mercurialem ? 
 Haec mea sunt, teneo, cum vere dixeris : Esto 
 Liberque ac sapiens, prsetoribus ac Jove dextro. 
 Sin tu, cum fueris nostras paulo ante farinae, 
 Pelliculam veterem retines, et fronte politus 
 Astutam vapido servas sub pectore vulpeni ; 
 Quai dederam supra, repeto, funemque reduce.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 19 
 
 Nil tibi concessit ratio : digitum exere peccas, 
 Et quid tam parv'um est ? Sed nullo thure litabis, 
 Hsereat in stultis brevis ut semuncia recti 
 Haec miscere Nefas : — 
 
 Are you moderate in your desires, frugal, and 
 obliging to your friends ? Do you know when to 
 spare, and when to be liberal, as occasion requires? 
 And can you give a check to your avarice, in spite 
 of all temptations which are laid in your way? Can 
 you refrain from being too greedy in your pursuit 
 after riches ? When you can sincerely affirm that 
 you are master of yourself, and of all these good 
 qualities, then you are free indeed, and wise, by 
 the propitious power of Jove and the Praetor. 
 
 But if you retain the old habits of a slave, and 
 harbour ill qualities, under the hypocritical appear- 
 ance of virtue, you are as much a slave as ever, 
 while thus enslaved to your vices. Philosophy 
 gives no indulgence to vice, makes no allowance 
 for any crime. If in wagging your finger, you acted 
 against reason, you transgress, though the thing be of 
 so trifling a nature. All the sacrifices you can offer 
 will never pass for a drachm of rectitude, while 
 your conduct is faulty. Wisdom is incompatible 
 with folly. 
 
 AVheu to be bountiful, and when to spare, ' 
 And never craving', or oppress'd with care;
 
 20 THE LIFE OF 
 
 The baits of g'ifts, and money to despise. 
 And look on wealth with iindesiring eyes ; 
 When thou can'st truly call these virtues thine. 
 Be wise and free by Heav'n's consent and mine. 
 
 But thou, who lately of the common strain, 
 Wert one of us, if still thou dost retain 
 The same ill habits, the same follies too, 
 Gloss'd over only with a saint-like show. 
 Then I resume the freedom \vhich I gave. 
 Still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave. 
 Thou canst not wag thy finger, or begin 
 The least slight motion, but it tends to sin. 
 How's this ? Not wag my finger, he replies ? 
 No, friend ; not fuming gums, nor sacrifice. 
 Can ever make a madman free, or wise. 
 Virtue and vice are never in one soul : 
 A man is wholly wise, or wholly w-w fool. 
 
 This is the great lesson, that virtue alone is 
 true honour, true freedom, and solid, durable hap- 
 piness. It is indeed its own reward. There are no 
 satisfactions equal to, or comparable with virtuous, 
 rational exercises ; nor can virtuous dispositions, 
 and well improved moral powers be rewarded, or 
 receive happiness suited to their nature, but from 
 their exercises and employments about proper ob- 
 jects. And as virtue gives pleasure here in propor- 
 tion to the improvements it makes, far beyond all 
 that mere sense can yield, in the most advantageous
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 21 
 
 circumstances of outward enjoyment; so in a state 
 to come, it shall be so placed as its improvements 
 require, that is, be placed in circumstances that 
 shall afford it business or employment proportioned 
 to its capacity, and by means thereof the highest 
 satisfaction. Such a basis for building moral in- 
 structions upon we find in history. We are warned 
 in some pages to avoid the miseries and wretched- 
 ness which many have fallen into by departing from 
 reason or virtue : and in others, we meet with such 
 virtuous characters and actions, as set forth the 
 charms of integrity in their full lustre, and prove 
 that virtue is the supreme beauty, the supreme 
 charm : that in keeping the precepts of moral recti- 
 tude, we secure a present felicity and reward; and 
 have a presage of those higher rewards which avrait 
 a steady course of right conduct in another world. 
 — Glorious, natural virtue! Would mankind but 
 hearken to its voice, and obey its dictates, there 
 would be no such beings as invaders, delinquents, 
 and traitors, in this lower world. The social incli- 
 nations and dispositions would for ever prevail over 
 the selfish appetites and passions. The law of be- 
 nevolence would be the rule of life. The advance- 
 ment of the common good would be the work of 
 every man. 
 
 The case however is, that the generality of
 
 22 THE LIFE OF 
 
 mankind are too corrupt to be governed by the 
 great universal law of social nature, and to gratify 
 ambition, avarice, and the like, employ a cunning 
 or power, to seize the natural rights and properties 
 of others; and therefore, to natural virtue, grounded 
 on the reason and fitness of things, in themselves, 
 the first and principal mean of securing the peace 
 and happiness of society, it was necessary to add 
 two other grand principles, civil government and 
 rehgion, and so have three conducible means to so- 
 cial happiness. These three are necessary to the 
 being of a public, and of them, religion, as 1 take 
 it, is of the first consequence; for the choice few 
 only mind a natural virtue, or benevolence flowing 
 from the reason, nature, and fitness of things; and 
 civil government cannot always secure the happi- 
 ness of mankind in particular cases : but religion, 
 rightly understood, and fixed upon its true and 
 proper foundation, might do the work, in conjunc- 
 tion with the other two principles, and secure the 
 happiness of society. If mankind were brought to 
 the belief and worship of one only true God, and to 
 a sincere obedience to his will, as we have it disco- 
 vered in revelation, I think, appetite and passion 
 would cease to invade by violence or fraud, or set 
 up for private interest in opposition to the public 
 stock or common good. But, alas ! Religion is so
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 23 
 
 far from being rightly understood, that it is ren- 
 dered by some explainers the most doubtful and 
 disputable thing in the world. They have given it 
 more phases than the moon, and made it every 
 thing and nothing, while they are screaming or 
 forcing the people into their several factions. This 
 destroys the m.oment of religion, and the multitude 
 are thereby wandering into endless mazes and per- 
 plexities, and rendered a hairing, staring, wrathful 
 rabble ; instead of being transformed into such 
 Christians as filled the first church at Jerusalem ; 
 Christians who acknowledged and worshipped God 
 the Father Almighty, in the name of Christ, that 
 is, under a belief of that authority and power which 
 the Father of the universe has, for the good of 
 mankind, conferred upon him ; and in humility and 
 meekness, in mortification and self-denial, in a re- 
 nunciation of the spirit, v/isdom, and honours of 
 this world, in a love of God, and desire of doing 
 God's will, and seeking only his honour, were, by 
 the gospel, made like unto Christ, Golden reli- 
 gion! Golden age! The doctrine of Christianity 
 was then a restoration of true religion : the practice 
 of Christianity, a restoration of human nature. 
 But now, alas ! too many explainers are employed 
 in darkening and making doubtful the revealed will 
 of God, and by paraphrases, expositions, commen-
 
 24 THE LIFE OF 
 
 taries, notes, and glosses, have almost rendered 
 revelation useless. What do we see in the vast ter- 
 ritories of popery, but a perfect diabolism in the 
 place of the religion of our Lord ? doctrines the 
 most impious and absurd, the most inconsistent 
 and contradictory in themselves, the most hurtful 
 and mischievous in their consequences ; the whole 
 supported by persecution, by the sophistry of learned 
 knaves, and the tricks of juggling priests. And 
 if we turn our eyes from these regions of imposture 
 and cruelty, to the realms of protestants, do we 
 not find some learned Christian critics and exposi- 
 tors reducing the inspired writings to a dark 
 science ? without regard to the nature and intrinsic 
 character of their doctrines, do they not advance 
 notions as true and divine, which have not one ap- 
 pearance of divine authority? but on the contrary, 
 militate with the reason of things, and the moral 
 fitness of actions ; and are so far from being plain 
 and clear, free from all doubtfulness, or ambiguity, 
 and suited to the understandings and capacity of 
 men, that the darkness of them renders such pre- 
 tended revelations of little service ; and impeaches 
 the veracity, wisdom, and goodness of God ! Alas 1 
 too many explainers are clamorous, under the in- 
 fallible strength of their own persuasions, and 
 exert every power to unman us into believers. How
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 55 
 
 the Apostles argued for the great excellency and 
 dignity of Christianity is not with them the ques- 
 tion ; so far as I am able to judge from their learned 
 writings ; but the fathers, and our spiritual supe- 
 riors have put upon the sacred writings the proper 
 explications ; and we must receive the truth as they 
 dispense it to us. This is not right, in mv con- 
 ception. I own it does not seem to answer the end 
 of the ^Messiah's coming, which was to restore 
 Reason and Religion to their rightful authority 
 over mankind; and to make all virtue; and true 
 goodness, flourish in the earth ; the most perfect 
 blessing to be sure that God could bestow on man, 
 or man receive from God. This blessing we must 
 miss, if human authority is to pin us down to what 
 it pleases to call sense of scripture, and will set up 
 the judgment of fallible men as the test of Chris- 
 tianity. The Christian laity are miserable indeed, 
 if they be put under an obligation to find that to be 
 truth which is taught by these leaders. In truth, 
 we should be unhappy men, with a revelation in 
 our churches and our closets, if the leaders had 
 a right to make their own faith pass for the faith of 
 the Apostles ; or, if we refused it, might lance the 
 weapons of this v/orld at their people. What must 
 we do then as true Christians? I think for myself, 
 that we ought to form our judgment, in matters of
 
 26 THE LIFE OF 
 
 faith, upon a strict, serious and impartial examina- 
 tion of the holy scriptures, without any regard to 
 the judgment of others, or human authority what- 
 ever: that we ought to open the sacred records, 
 without minding any systems, and from the re- 
 vealed word of God learn that Christianity does 
 not consist in a jingle of unintelligible sounds, and 
 new fundamentals, hewn out by craft, enthusiasm, 
 or bigotry, and maintained with an outrage of un- 
 charitable zeal, which delivers Christians to the 
 flames of an eternal hell : but, that the heavenly 
 religion of our Lord consists in looking on the pro- 
 mised Messiah, as the most consummate blessing 
 God could bestow, or man receive; and that Jesus 
 is that Messiah ; in acting according to the rules 
 of the gospel, and in studying to imitate God, who 
 is the most perfect understanding nature, in all his 
 moral perfections ; in becoming the children of God 
 by being, according to our capacity, perfect as he 
 is perfect, and holy as he is holy, and merciful as 
 he is merciful ; and in our whole moral behaviour 
 as like to him as possible. 
 
 In a word, to flee injustice, oppression, intem- 
 perance, impurity, pride, unmercifulness and re- 
 venge : to practise justice, piety, temperance, chas- 
 tity, humility, beneficence, and placability : to 
 turn from our iniquities to the practice of all virtue :
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 27 
 
 and through the alone mediation of the only-begot- 
 ten Son of God, believe in and worship the eternal 
 mind, the one supreme spirit, in hope of a glorious 
 immortality, through the sanctification of the Holy 
 Ghost. These are the things the Lord came down 
 to teach mankind. For the New Testament itself 
 then we must declare, and look upon it as the only 
 guide, or rule of faith. It is now the only dehverer 
 of the declarations of our Lord : and the rule in our 
 enquiry is, that every thing necessary to be be- 
 lieved by a Christian, is in those books not left to 
 be gathered by consequences, or implications ; but 
 the things necessary to obtain the favour of God 
 promised to Christians are expressly declared. If 
 this was not the case — if things absolutely neces- 
 sary were not expressly proclaimed to be so, the 
 gospel revelation would be no rule at all*. 
 
 * To the plain and satisfactory method of seeking for 
 the faith in the sacred books, there are many adversaries 
 and many objections raised. There are, says a great 
 man, a very numerous body of Christians who know no 
 other guides but the living guides of the present church ; 
 and acknowledge no other faith, for the faith once deli- 
 livered to the saints, but that which is now delivered to 
 them by their present rulers, as such. 
 
 To establish this point, the greater part of these lay 
 down the infallibility of the present chiu-ch, and of every
 
 28 THli LIFE Of 
 
 But it is time to tell my reader the story of the 
 beautiful Harriot Noel, which I promised in a 
 
 man of the past ages, through whose mouth, or by whose 
 hands, the present traditions of faith have descended to 
 them. And this, indeed, would be a very good method, 
 if that single proof of infallibility could be proved. But 
 this is a point so gross, and so utterly void of all proof, 
 that a great body of the Christian world have broke 
 loose from the power of this monster, and declared for 
 the I^'ew Testament itself, as the only guide or rule of 
 faith ; the only deliverer of the faith to us of later ages. 
 When this comes however to be put in practice, too 
 many of the same persons who set the scriptures up as 
 the only guide, turn round on a sudden, and let us know% 
 that they mean by it, not these sacred original writings 
 themselves, but the interpretations, or sense, put upon 
 them by our spiritual superiors, to which w'e are bound 
 to submit, and put under an obligation to find that to be 
 the truth which is taught by these leaders. 
 
 But to this we reply with reason, that though we ought 
 to pay a regard of serious attention to those whose busi- 
 ness it is to find out and dispense the truth, and shew 
 the respect of a due examination of Avhat they afiirm ; 
 yet we must not yield the submission due only to infal- 
 libility. It is our glory not to submit to tlie voice of any 
 man. We must reserve that regard, for God, and for 
 Christ, in matters of faith once delivered to the saints. 
 
 Others, again, of the reformed, tell us, that the surer 
 Avay of knowing what was delivered above eighteen huu-
 
 JOIIX BUXCLE, ESQ. ^9 
 
 preceding- page [p. 5. ante.] On the glorious 
 first of August, before the beasts were roused from 
 
 dred years ago, is to take the original faith from the 
 Councils and Fathers, grave and good men, who met 
 and wrote for the settling of the faith. And to this we 
 answer, that these wise and good men cannot give so 
 good an account of the faith contained in tlie original 
 books as the books themselves which contain it. 
 
 To give an example to the purpose. If we would 
 know the doctrine of the Church of England at the re- 
 formation, it is not the writings of particular divines, 
 many years after that period, that we must consult ; or 
 any assembly of them ; but the authentic acts and decla- 
 rations, and sermons, made and recorded at the time ; 
 for many of the doctrines thought essential at the refor- 
 mation, have been since changed by gradual alterations ; 
 by explainers using their own style and manner of ex- 
 pression, and introducing their own scheme of philoso- 
 phy, and judgment in commenting, into the scheme of 
 doctrine to be explained. This produces great variation 
 from what was once settled. What was once esteemed 
 fundamental is thereby altered. Let this l)e applied to 
 the first Christian writers, after tlie Apostles were 
 departed, and as their language and philosophy were 
 various, and they differed from one another, great varia- 
 tions must creep into the doctrines delivered by them. 
 It follows then, that nothing but what is recorded in the 
 first original books themselves can be firm and stable to 
 us in points of faith. In the original books only we can
 
 30 THE LIFE OF 
 
 their lodges, or the birds had soared upwards, to 
 pour forth their morning harmony; while the moun- 
 tains and the groves were overshadowed by a dun 
 obscurity, and the dawn still dappled the drowsy 
 east with spots of grey ; in short, before the sun 
 was up, or, with his auspicious presence, began to 
 animate inferior nature, I left my chamber, and 
 with my gun and dog, went out to wander over a 
 pleasant country. The different aspects and the 
 various points of view were charming, as the light 
 in fleecy rings increased ; and when the whole flood 
 of day descended, the embellished early scene was 
 a fine entertainment. Delighted with the beauties 
 of this morning, I climbed up the mountains, and 
 traversed through many a valley. The game was 
 plenty, and for full five hours, I journeyed onward, 
 without knowing where I was going, or thinking of 
 a return to college. 
 
 About nine o'clock however I began to grow very 
 hungry, and was looking round to see if I could 
 discover any proper habitation to my purpose, when 
 I observed in a valley, at some distance, some- 
 thing that looked like a mansion. That way there- 
 fore I moved, and with no little difficulty, as I had 
 
 find the faith, without that confusion and darkness, which 
 human explications and additions have brought in by 
 way of light.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 31 
 
 a precipice to descend, or must go a mile round, to 
 arrive at the place I wanted : down therefore I 
 marched, got a fall by the way that had like to 
 have destroyed me, and after all, found it to be a 
 shed for cattle. The bottom however was very 
 beautiful, and the sides of the hills sweetly copsed 
 with little woods. The valley is so divided, that the 
 rising sun gilds it on the right hand, and when de- 
 clining, warms it on the left. 
 
 Veniens dextrum latus aspiciat Sol, 
 
 Lsevum discedens curru fugiente vaporet. 
 
 A pretty brook here likewise babbles along, and 
 even Hebrus strays not round Thrace with a purer 
 and cooler stream. 
 
 Fens etiam rivo dare nomen idoneus, ut nee 
 Frigidior Thracam nee purior ambiat Hebrus. 
 
 In this sweet and dehcious sohtude, I crept on 
 for some time, by the side of the murmuring stream, 
 and followed as it winded through the vale, till I 
 came to a little'harmonic building, that had every 
 charm and proportion architecture could give it. It 
 was situated on a rising ground in a broad part of 
 the fruitful valley, and surrounded with a garden, 
 that invited a pensive wanderer to roam in its de- 
 lightful retreats, and walks amazingly beatitiftil. 
 Every side of this fine spot was planted thick with
 
 3^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 underwood, and kept so low, as not to prevent a 
 prospect to every pleasing remote object. 
 
 Finding one of the garden doors left open, I 
 entered immediately, and to screen myself from the 
 scorching beams of the sun, got into an embowered 
 way, that led me to a large fountain, in a ring or 
 circular opening, and from thence, by a gradual, 
 easy, shady ascent, to a semicircular amphitheatre 
 of evergreens, that was quite charming. In this 
 were several seats for ease, repast, or retirement ; 
 and at either end of it a rotunda or temple of the 
 Ionic order. One of them was converted into a 
 grotto or shell-house, in which a politeness of fancy 
 had produced and blended the greatest beauties of 
 nature and decoration. The other was a library, 
 filled with the finest books, and a vast variety of 
 mathematical instruments. Here I saw Miss Noel 
 sitting, and so intent at writing, that she did not 
 take any notice of me, as I stood at the window, in 
 astonishment, looking at the things before me, and 
 especially at the amazing beauties of her face, and 
 the splendour of her eyes ; as she raised them now 
 and then from the paper she was writing on, to look 
 into a Hebrew Bible, that lay open upon a small 
 desk before her. The whole scene was so very un- 
 common, and so vastly amazing, that I thought my- 
 self for a while on some spot of magic ground, and
 
 JOHN BUXCLE, ESQ. 33 
 
 almost doubted the reality of what my eyes beheld ; 
 till Miss Noel, by accident, looked full at me, and 
 then came forward to the open window, to know 
 who I wanted. 
 
 Before 1 could answer, I found a venerable old 
 gentlemen standing by my side, and he seemed 
 much more surprised at the sight of me than his 
 daughter was; for, as this young lady told me 
 afterward, she guessed at once the whole affair; 
 seeing me with my gun and dog, in a shooting 
 dress ; and knew it was a natural curiosity brought 
 me into the garden, and stopped me at the window, 
 when 1 saw her in such an attitude, and in such a 
 place. This I assured them was the truth of my 
 case, with this small addition, however, that I was 
 ready to perish for want of something to eat ; hav- 
 ing been from four in the morning at hard exercise, 
 and had not yet broke my fast. If this be the case, 
 says the good old man, you are welcome. Sir, to 
 Eden Park, and you shall soon have the best break- 
 fast our house affords. 
 
 Upon this Mr. Noel brought me into his house, 
 and the lovely Harriot made tea for me, and had 
 such plenty of fine cream, and extraordinary bread 
 and butter set before me, that I breakfasted with 
 uncommon pleasure. ;The honour and happiness 
 of her company rendered "the repast quite delightful. 
 
 VOL. 1. D
 
 34 THE LIFE OF 
 
 There was a civility so very great in her manner, 
 and a social goodness so charming in her talk and 
 temper, that it was unspeakable delight to sit at 
 table with her. She asked me a number of ques- 
 tions relating to things and books, and people, and 
 there was so much good sense in every enquiry, so 
 much good humour in her reflections and replica- 
 tions, that I was entirely charmed with her mind; 
 and lost in admiration, when I contemplated the 
 w^onders of her face, and the beauties of her person. 
 When breakfast v/as over, it was time for me to 
 depart, and I made half a dozen attempts to rise 
 from my chair ; but without her laying a rosy finger 
 on me, this illustrious maid had so totally subdued 
 ray soul, and deprived me of all motive pov/er, that 
 I sat like the renowned Prince of the Massagetes, 
 who was stiffened by enchantment in the apartment 
 of the Princess Phedima, as we read in Amadis de 
 Gaul. This Miss Noel saw very plain, and in 
 compassion to my misfortune, generously threw in 
 a hint now and then, for a little farther conversation 
 to colour my unreasonable delay. But this could 
 not have been of service much longer, as the clock 
 had struck twelve, if the old gentleman, her father, 
 had not returned to us, and told me, he insisted on 
 my staying to dine with him ; for he loved to take a 
 glass after dinner with a facetious companion, and
 
 JOHN BU^^CLE, ESQ. 
 
 would be obliged to me for ray company. " At 
 present/' continued he, '* you will excuse me, Sir, 
 as business engages me till we dine; but my daugh- 
 ter will chat the hours away with you, and show you 
 the curiosities of her library and grot. Haeriot 
 will supply my place." 
 
 This was a delightful invitation indeed, and after 
 returning my hearty thanks to the old gentleman for 
 the favour he did me, I addressed myself to Miss 
 Noel, when her father was gone, and we were 
 walking back to the library in the garden, and told 
 her ingenuously, that though I could not be positive 
 as to the situation of my soul, whether I was in love .. ^U^^-*^ 
 
 with her or not, as I never had experienced the — 
 
 passion before, nor knew what it was to admire a 
 woman, having lived till that morning in a state of 
 indifference to her sex, yet I found very strange 
 emotions within me, and I was sure I could not 
 leave her without the most lively and afflicting in- 
 quietude. " You will pardon, I hope, madam, this 
 effusion of my heart, and suffer me to demonstrate 
 by a thousand and a thousand actions, that I honour 
 you in a manner unutterable, and, from this time, 
 can imagine no happiness but with you." 
 
 " Sir," this inimitable maid replied, '' you are 
 an entire stranger to me, and to declare a passion 
 on a few hours' acquaintance, must be either to try 
 my weakness, or because you think a young woman
 
 36 THE LIFE OF 
 
 is incapable of relishing any thing but such stuff, 
 when alone in conversation with a gentleman. I 
 beg then I may hear no more of this ; and as I am 
 sure you can talk upon many more rational subjects, 
 request your favour to give me your opinion on 
 some articles in this Hebrew Bible you see lying 
 open on the table in this room. My father, sir, 
 among other things, has taken great pains to in- 
 struct me, for several years that I have lived with 
 him in a kind of solitary state, since the death of my 
 mother, whom I lost when I was very young, and 
 has taught me to read and understand this inspired 
 Hebrew book ; and says we must ascribe primaevity 
 and sacred prerogatives to this language. For my 
 part, I have some doubts as to this matter, which I 
 dare not mention to my father. Tell me, if you 
 please, what you think of the thing ?" 
 
 "Miss Noel,'* I answered, ''since it is your 
 command that I should be silent as to that flame 
 your glorious eyes and understanding have lighted 
 up in my soul, like some superior nature, before 
 whom I am nothing, silent I will be, and tell you 
 what I fancy on a subject I am certain you under- 
 stand much better than I do. My knowledge of 
 the Hebrew is but small, though I have learned to 
 read and understand the Old Testament in the 
 ante-Babel language. 
 
 " My opinion on your question is, that the Bib-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 lical Hebrew was the language of Paradise, and 
 continued to be spoken by all men down to, and at 
 the time of Moses writing the Pentateuch, and long 
 after. Abraham, though bred in Chaldea, could 
 converse freely with the Egyptians, the Sodomites' 
 and the King of Gerar; nor do we find that any 
 variety of speech interrupted the commerce of his 
 son Isaac with the several nations around, or that it 
 ever stopped Jacob in his travels. Nay, the Israel- 
 ites, in their journey through the desarts of Arabia, 
 after they had been some hundred years in Egypt, 
 though joined by a mixed multitude, and meeting 
 with divers kinds of people, had not corrupted their 
 language, and were easily understood, because it 
 was then the universal one. The simplicity and 
 distinctness of the Hebrew tongue preserved its 
 purity so long and so universally. It could not 
 well be degenerate till the knowledge of nature was 
 lost, as its words consist but of two or three letters, 
 and are perfectly well suited to convey sensible and 
 strong ideas. It was at the captivity,* in the space 
 
 * The captivity here spoken of began at Nebuzara- 
 dan's taking and burning the city and temple of Jerusa- 
 lem, and sending Zedekiah, the last king, in chains, to 
 Nebuchadnezzar, who ordered his children to be but- 
 chered before his face, his eyes to be put out, and then 
 thrown into a dungeon, where he died. This happened
 
 38 THE LIFE or 
 
 of seventy years, that the Jews by temporising with 
 the ignorant victors, so far neglected the usage of 
 their own tongue, that none but the scribes or 
 learned men could understand Moses's books." 
 
 " This, I confess," said Miss Noel, '' is a plau- 
 sible account of the primsevity and pre-eminence of 
 the sacred Hebrew, but I think it is not necessary 
 the account should be allowed as fact. As to its 
 being the language in Paradise, this is not very pro- 
 bable, as a compass of eighteen hundred years must 
 have changed the first language very greatly by an 
 increase of words, and new inflections, applications, 
 and constructions of them. The first few inhabi- 
 tants of the earth were occupied in few things, and 
 wanted not a variety of words ; but when their de- 
 scendants invented arts and improved sciences, 
 they were obliged to coin new words and technical 
 terms, and by extending and transferring their 
 words to new subjects, and using them figuratively, 
 were forced to multiply the senses of those already 
 in use. The language was thus gradually cultivated, 
 and every age improved it. All living languages 
 are liable to sugh change. I therefore conclude, 
 that the language which served the first pair would 
 not do for succeeding generations. It became 
 
 before our Lord, 588 years; after the flood, 1766; of the 
 world, 341 6. 
 
 I
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 39 
 
 vastly more copious and extensive, when the num- 
 bers of mankind were great, and their language 
 must serve conversation and the ends of life, and 
 answer all the purposes of intelligence and corres- 
 pondence. New words and new terms of speech, 
 from time to time, were necessary, to give true ideas 
 of the things, actions, offices, places, and times 
 peculiar to the Hebrews. Even Hutchinson allows 
 there was some coinage, some new words framed. 
 We find in the latter prophets words not to be met 
 with in the Pentateuch : and from thence we may 
 suppose, that Moses used words unknown to Nimrod 
 and Heber: and that the men at Shinaar* had 
 words which the people before the flood were 
 strangers to. Even in the seventeenth century, 
 there must have been a great alteration in the lan- 
 guage of Adam ; and when the venerable Patriarch 
 and his family came into a new world, that was 
 
 * Shinaar comprehends the plains of Chaldea or 
 Babylonia in Asia; and the ' men of Shinaar^ were the 
 first colony that Noah sent out from Ararat, the moun- 
 tains of Armenia, where the Ark rested after the flood, 
 to settle in the grand plains of Babylonia, twelve-hundred 
 miles from Ararat. This was in the days of Peleg, two 
 hundred and forty years after the flood, when the eight 
 had encreased to sixty thousand; which made a remove 
 of part of them necessary.
 
 40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in a different state from the earth before the deluge, 
 and saw a vast variety of things without precedent 
 in the old world, the alterations in nature and diet, 
 must introduce a multitude of new terms in things 
 of common experience and usage ; as, after that 
 amazing revolution in the natural world, not only 
 the clouds and meteors were different, and the souls 
 that were saved bad a new and astonishing view of 
 the ruin and repair of the system ; but Noah did 
 then begin to be an husbandman ; he planted a vine- 
 yard ; he invented wine ; and to him the first grant 
 was given of eating flesh. All these things required 
 as it were a new language, and the terms with man- 
 kind encreased. The Noahical language must be 
 quite another thing after the great events of the 
 flood. Had Methuselah, who conversed many years 
 with Adam ; who received from his mouth the 
 history of the creation and fall, and who lived six 
 hundred years with Noah, to communicate to him all 
 the knowledge he got from Adam ; had this ante- 
 diluvian wise man been raised from the dead to 
 converse with the post-diluvian fathers, or even with 
 Noah, the year he died, that is three hundred and 
 fifty years after the flood ; is it not credible from 
 what I have said, that he would have heard a lan- 
 guiige very different from that tongue he used in his 
 conversations with Adam, even in the nine hundred
 
 JOHX BUNCLE, ESQ. 41 
 
 and thirtieth year of the first man?* I imagine, 
 Methuselah would not have been able to have talked 
 
 * The extraordinary longevity of the ante-diluvians is 
 accounted utterly incredible by many moderns ; but it 
 did not appear so unnatural to the early ages of Pa- 
 ganism. Let no one, says Josephus, upon compar- 
 ing the lives of the antients with our lives, and with 
 the few years which we now live, think that what we 
 have said of them is false. I have for witness to what I 
 have said, all those who have written antiquities, both 
 among the Greeks and Barbarians. For even Manetho, who 
 wrote the Egyptian History ; and Berosus, who collected 
 the Chaldean Monuments ; and Mochus and Hostieeus ; 
 and besides these, Hieronymus the Egyptian, and those 
 who composed the PhcEnician h.slory, agree to what I here 
 say, Hesiod also, and Hecutseus, and Hallanicus, and 
 Acusilaus ; and besides these, Ephorus and Nicolaus 
 of Damascus, relate that the ancients lived a thousand 
 years. 
 
 The antient Latin authors likewise confirm the 
 sacred history in this branch : and Varro, in particular, 
 made an enquiry. What the reason was that the antients 
 lived a thousand years ? 
 
 [The author had here promised " a continuation of 
 this note in the Appendix" but it may be proper to notice, 
 that the first volume of this work was printed in 1756, 
 and the second, to which the Appendix was to have 
 been added, did not make its appearance till 1766, 
 and then without the promised addition. What the Ap-
 
 42 THE LIFE OF 
 
 with Noah, at the time 1 have mentioned, of the cir- 
 cumstances that then made the case of mankind, and 
 of the things of common experience and usage. He 
 must have been unable to converse at his first ap- 
 pearance ?" 
 
 " What you say, Madam," I repHed, *' is not 
 only very probable, but affords a satisfaction un- 
 expected in a subject on v\^hich we are obliged, for 
 want of data, to use conjectures. I yield to your 
 superior sense the notion, that the Scriptures were 
 written in the language of Paradise. Most certain 
 it is, that even in respect of our own language, for 
 example, the subjects of Henry I., would find it as 
 much out of their power to understand the English 
 of George the First's reign, were they brought up 
 again, as the ordinary people of our time are at a 
 loss to make any thing of the English, written in 
 the first Henry's reign. But when I have granted 
 this, you will be pleased to inform me, how Abraham 
 and his sons conversed and commerced with the 
 nations, if the Hebrew was not the universal lan- 
 
 pendixwas intended to comprise will 1)e found more fully 
 noticed in the introductory portion to this volume. The 
 materiel connected with the dispersion at Babel, was de- 
 rived by the author, from Blomberg-'s Life of Edmimd 
 Dickinson, M.D. 1739. 8vo. of which subsequent notice 
 will l)e made. Ed.]
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 43 
 
 guage in their time ? If the miracle at Babel was a 
 confusion of tongues, as is generally supposed, how 
 did the holy family talk and act with such distant 
 king's and people ? Illuminate me, thou glorious 
 girl, in this dark article, and be my teacher in 
 Hebrew learning, as I Hatter myself you will be the 
 guide and dirigent of all my notions and my days. 
 Yes, charming Harriot, my fate is in your hands. 
 Dispose of it as you will, and make me what you 
 please." 
 
 " You force me to smile," the illustrious Miss 
 Noel replied, '' and oblige me to call you an odd 
 compound of a man. Pray, Sir, let me have no 
 more of those romantic flights, and I will answer 
 your question as well as I can ; but it must be at 
 some other time. There is more to be said on the 
 miracle at Babel, and its effects, than I could dis- 
 patch between this and our hour of dining, and 
 therefore, the remainder of our leisure till dinner, 
 we will pass in a visit to my grotto, and in walking 
 round the garden to the parlour we came from." 
 To the grotto then we went, and to the best of my 
 power I will give my reader a description of this 
 splendid room. 
 
 In one of the fine rotundas I have mentioned, at 
 one end of the green amphitheatre very lately de- 
 scribed, the shining apartment was formed. Miss
 
 44 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Noel's hand had covered the floor with the most 
 beautiful mosaic my eyes have ever beheld, and 
 filled the arched roof with the richest fossil gems. 
 The mosaic painting on the ground was wrought 
 with small coloured stones or pebbles, and sharp 
 pointed bits of glass, measured and proportioned 
 together, so as to imitate in their assemblage the 
 strokes and colour of the objects, which they were 
 intended to represent, and they represented by this 
 lady's art, the Temple of Tranquillity, described by 
 Volusenus in his dream. 
 
 At some distance the fine temple looks like a 
 beautiful painted picture, as do the birds, the beasts, 
 the trees in the fields about it, and the river which 
 murmurs at the bottom of the rising ground ; 
 * Amnis lucidus et vadosus in quo cernere erat verii 
 generis pisces colludere.' So wonderfully did this 
 genius perform the piece, that fishes of many kinds 
 seem to take their pastime in the bright stream. 
 But above all, is the image of the philosopher, at 
 the entrance of the temple, vastly fine. With peb- 
 bles and scraps of glass, all the beauties and graces 
 are expressed, which the pencil of an able artist 
 could bestow on the picture of Democritus. You 
 see him as Diogenes Laertius has drav^n him, with a 
 philosophical joy in his countenance, that shews 
 him superior to all events. Summum honorum finem
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 45 
 
 statuit esse latitiam, non earn qucB sit eadem voluptati, 
 sed earn per quam animus degit perturbationis expers ; 
 and with a finger, he points to the following golden 
 inscription on the portico of the temple : 
 
 " Flagrans sit studiuin bene merendi de seipso, 
 Et seipsum perficiendi." 
 That is, " by a rectitude of mind and life, secure 
 true happiness and the applause of your own heart, 
 and let it be the labour of your every day, to come 
 as near perfection as it is possible for human nature 
 to get." This mosaic piece of painting is indeed an 
 admirable thing. It has a fine effect in this grotto, 
 and is a noble monument of the masterly hand of 
 Miss Noel. 
 
 Nor was her fine genius less visible in the strik- 
 ing appearance of the extremely beautiful shells and 
 valuable curiosities, all round the apartment. Her 
 father spared no cost to procure her the finest things 
 of the ocean and rivers from all parts of the world, 
 and pebbles, stones, and ores of the greatest curio- 
 sity and worth. These were all disposed in such a 
 manner as not only shed a glorious lustre in the 
 room, but shewed the understanding of this young 
 lady in natural knowledge. 
 
 In one part of the grot were collected and 
 arranged the stony coverings of all the shell-fish in 
 the sea, from the striated patella and its several
 
 46 THE LIFE OF 
 
 species, to the pholacles in all their species ; 
 and of those that live in the fresh streams, 
 from the suboval limpet or umbonated patella and 
 its species, to the triangular and deeply striated 
 cardia. Even all the land shells were in this col- 
 lection, from the pomatia to the round-mouthed 
 turbo. The most beautiful genera of the sea-shells, 
 intermixed with fossil corals of all the kinds ; with 
 animal substances become fossil ; and with copper- 
 ores, agates, pebbles, pieces of the finest marmora 
 and alabastritee, and the most elegant and beautiful 
 marcasites, and chrystals, and spars. These filled 
 the greatest part of the walls, and in classes, here 
 and there, were scattered, as foils to raise the lustre 
 of the others, the inferior shells. 
 
 Among the simple sea-shells, that is, those of 
 one shell, without a hinge, I saw several rare ones, 
 that were neither in Mrs. O'Hara's, nor in Mrs. 
 Grafton's grottos in Fingal, as I observed to those 
 ladies,* The shells I mean are the following ones. 
 
 * I had once a sweet little country house in the 
 neighbourhood of those ladies, and used to be often at 
 their gardens and grottos. Mrs. Crafton had the finest 
 shells, l)ut her grot was dull and regular, and had no ap- 
 pearance of nature in the formation. She was a pious, 
 plain, refined lady, but had not a fancy equal to the 
 operation required in a shell-house.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ, 47 
 
 The SEA-TRUMPET, which is in its perfect state, 
 nine inches long, an inch and half diameter at its 
 mouth or irregular lip, and the opening at the small 
 end about half an inch. The surface is a beautiful 
 brown, prettily spotted with white, and the pipe has 
 
 The excellent, the polite, the well-bred, the ^ood and 
 unfortunate Mrs- O'Hara had a g-lorious fancy. She 
 was a genius, and had an imagination that formed a 
 grotto wild and charming as Calypso's. Her fancy did 
 likewise form the garden, in which the grotto stood, 
 near the margin of a flood, into a paradise of delights. 
 Many a pleasing, solitary hour, have I passed in this 
 charming place ; and at last saw all in ruins ; the gar_ 
 den in disorder, and every fine shell torn from the grotto. 
 Such are the changes and chances of this first state ; 
 changes ^^isely designed by Providence as warnings not 
 to set up our rest here : that we may turn our hearts 
 from this world, and with all our might labour for that 
 life which shall never perish. 
 
 What ruined Mrs. OHara's grotto deprived me of 
 my little green and shady retreat. Charles O'Hara, 
 this lady's husband, a strange man, from whom I rented 
 my pretty farm, and to whom I had paid a fine to lower 
 the rent, had mortgaged it, uuknouii to me, to the 
 famous Damer, and that powerful man swallowed all. 
 All I had there was seized for arrears of interest due of 
 Mr. O'Hara, and as I was ever liable to distrainment, 
 I took my leave of Fingal.
 
 48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 fourteen annular ridges that are a little elevated, 
 and of a fine purple colour. 
 
 The ADMIRAL is vastly beautiful^ a voluta two 
 inches and a half long, and an inch in diameter 
 at the head, from whence it decreases to a 
 cone with an obtuse point. The ground colour is 
 the brightest, elegant yellow, finer than that of 
 Sienna marble, and this ground so variegated with 
 the brightest colours, that a little more than a third 
 part of the ground is seen. ' Broad fasciae, the most 
 charmingly varied, surround it, and the clavicle is 
 the most elegant of objects in colours, brightness, 
 and irregularities. There is a punctuated line of 
 variations that runs in the centre of the yellow 
 fascia, and is wonderfully pretty. This beautiful 
 East-Indian sells at a great price. 
 
 The CROWN IMPERIAL is likewise extremely 
 beautiful. This voluta is four inches long, two in 
 diameter at the top, and its head adorned with a 
 charming series of fine tubercles, pointed at the 
 extremities. The ground is a clear pale, and near 
 the head and extremity of the shell, two very beau- 
 tiful zones run round. They are of the brightest 
 yellow, and in a manner the most elegant, are varie- 
 gated with black and white purple. It is also an 
 East-Indian. 
 
 The Hebrew letter, another voluta, is a fine
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 49 
 
 curiosity. It is two inches in length, and an inch 
 and a quarter in diameter at the top. It is a regu- 
 lar conic figure, and its exerted clavicle has several 
 volutions. The o;round is like the white of a fine 
 pearl, and the body all over variegated with irregu- 
 lar marks of black, which have a near resemblance 
 of the Hebrew characters. This elegant shell is an 
 East-Indian. 
 
 The WHITE voLUTA, with brown and blue and 
 purple spots. This very elegant shell, whose ground 
 is a charming white, is found on the coast of Guinea, 
 from five to six inches in length, and its diameter 
 at the head often three inches. It tapers gradually, 
 and at the extremity is a large obtuse. Its variega- 
 tions in its spots are very beautiful, and its spots 
 are principally disposed in many circles round the 
 shell. 
 
 The BUTTERFLY is a voluta the most elegant of 
 this beautiful genus. Its length is five inches in 
 its perfection, and two and a half broad at the head. 
 The body is an obtuse cone : the clavicle is pointed, 
 and in several volutions. The ground is the finest 
 yellow, and beautified all over with small brown 
 spots, in regular and round series. These variega- 
 tions are exceeding pretty, and as this rare East- 
 Indian shell has beside these beauties three charming 
 bands round the body, which are formed of large 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE LIFE OF 
 
 spots of a deep brown, a pale brown, and white, and 
 resemble the spots on the wings of butterflies, it is a 
 beautiful species indeed. The animal that inhabits 
 this shell is a Umax. 
 
 The TULIP CYLINDER is a very scarce and 
 beautiful native of the East-Tndies, and in its state 
 of perfection and brightness of colour, of great 
 value. Its form is cylindric, its length four inches, 
 and its diameter two and a half, at its greatest in- 
 crease. Its clavicle has many volutions, and termi- 
 nates in an obtuse point. The ground colour is 
 white, and its variegations blue and brown. They 
 are thrown into irregular clouds in the most beauti- 
 ful manner, and into some larger and smaller spots. 
 The limax inhabits this fine shell. 
 
 I likewise saw in this grotto the finest species of 
 the purpura, the dolia, and the porcellana. There 
 was of the first genus the thorny woodcock : of the 
 second the harp shell : and of the third, the argus 
 shell. 
 
 The THORNY WOODCOCK is ventricose, and ap- 
 proaches to an oval figure. Its length, full grown, 
 is five inches ; the clavicle short, but in volutions 
 distinct ; and its rostrum from the mouth twice the 
 length of the rest of the shell. This snout and the 
 body have four series of spines, generally an inch 
 and half long, pointed at the ends, and somewhat
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 51 
 
 crooked. The spines lie in regular, longitudinal 
 series. The mouth is almost round, but the opening 
 is continued in the form of a slit up the rostrum. 
 The colour of this American, and extremely elegant 
 shell, is a tawny yellow, with a fine mixture of a 
 lively brown, and by bleaching on the coasts, it gets 
 many spots of white. 
 
 The BEAUTIFUL HARP is 3. Chinese; three in- 
 ches and half long, and two and a half in diameter. 
 The shell is tumid and inflated, and at the head 
 largest. It has an oblong clavicle in several volu- 
 tions, pointed at the extremity, and the other ex- 
 treme is a short rostrum.. The whole surface is 
 ornamented with elevated ribs, that are about twice 
 as thick as a straw, and as distant from each other 
 as the thickness of four straws. The colour is a 
 fine deep brown, variegated with white and a paler 
 brown, in a manner surprisingly beautiful. 
 
 The extremely elegant argus is from the coast 
 of Africa, and is sometimes found in the East-Indies. 
 Its length, in a state of perfection, is four inches and 
 a half; its diameter three. It is oblong and gib- 
 bous, has a wide mouth, and lips so continued 
 beyond the verge, as to form at each extremity a 
 broad and short beak. The colour is a fine pale 
 yellow, and over the body are three brown fasci2e : 
 but the whole surface, and those fascije are orna-
 
 5'2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 merited with multitudes of the most beautiful round 
 spots, which resemble eyes in the wings of the finest 
 butterflies. The limax inhabits this charming shell. 
 This creature is the sea-snail. 
 
 The CONCHA OF VENUS was the next shell in 
 this young lady's collection that engaged my atten- 
 tion. One of them was three inches long, and two 
 and a half in diameter. The valves were convex, 
 and in longitudinal direction deeply striated. The 
 hinge at the prominent end was large and beautifully 
 wrought, and the opening of the shell was covered 
 with the most elegant wrinkled lips, of the most 
 beautiful red colour, finely intermixed with white ; 
 these lips do not unite in the middle, but have 
 slender and beautiful spines round about the trun- 
 cated ends of the shell. This shell of Venus is an 
 American, and valued by the collectors at a high 
 rate. 
 
 But of all the curious shells in this wonderful 
 collection, the hammer oyster was what I won- 
 dered at most ; it is the most extraordinary shell in 
 the world. It resembles a pick-ax, with a very short 
 handle and a long head. The body of the shell is 
 in the place of the handle of the instrument, and is 
 four inches and a half long, and one inch and a half 
 in diameter. What answered to the head of the 
 pick-ax was seven inches long, and three quarters
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 53 
 
 of an inch in diameter. This head terminates at 
 each end in a narrow obtuse point, is uneven at the 
 edges, irregular in its make, and lies crosswise to the 
 body : yet the valves shut in the closest and most 
 elegant manner. The edges are deeply furrowed 
 and plaited, and the lines run in irregular directions. 
 The colour without is a fine mixture of brown and 
 purple; and within a pearly white, with a tinge of 
 purple. This rare shell is an East-Indian, and 
 whenever it appears at an auction is rated very high. 
 I have known ten guineas given for a perfect one. 
 
 With a large quantity of these most beautiful 
 shells, which are rarely seen in any collections, and 
 with all the family of the pectens, the cardiae, the 
 solens, the cylindri, the murexes, the turbines, the 
 buccina, and every species of the finest genera of 
 shells, Miss Noel formed a grotto that exceeded 
 every thing of the kind I believe in the world ; all I 
 am sure that I have seen, except the late Mrs Har- 
 court's in Richmondshire ; which I shall give my 
 reader a description of, when I travel him up those 
 English Alpes. It was not only, that Miss Noel's 
 happy fancy had blended all these things in the 
 wildest and most beautiful disposition over the walls 
 of the rotunda; but her fine genius had produced a 
 variety of grots within her grotto, and falling waters, 
 and points of view. In one place was the famous
 
 54 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Atalanta, and her delightful cave : and in another 
 part, the Goddess and Ulysses's son appeared at the 
 entrance of that grot, which under the appearance 
 of a rural plainness had every thing that could 
 charm the eye : the roof was ornamented with 
 shell-work ; the tapestry was a tender vine ; and 
 limpid fountains sweetly purled round. 
 
 But what above all the finely fancied works in 
 Miss Noel's grotto pleased me, was, a figure of the 
 philosopher Epictetus, in the centre of the grot. 
 He sat at the door of a cave, by the side of a fall- 
 ing water, and held a book of his philosophy in his 
 hand, that was written in the manner of the antients, 
 that is, on parchment rolled up close together. He 
 appeared in deep meditation, and as part of the 
 book had been unfolded and gradually extended, 
 from his knee on the ground, one could read very 
 plain, in large Greek characters, about fifty lines. 
 The English of the lesson was this — 
 
 '* THE MASTER SCIENCE. 
 
 '* All things have their nature, their make and 
 form, by which they act, and by which they suffer. 
 The vegetable proceeds with perfect insensibility. 
 The brute possesses a sense of what is pleasurable 
 and painful, but stops at mere sensation. The 
 rational, like the brute, has all the powers of mere
 
 JOHN BUNCLE,, ESQ. 56 
 
 sensation, but enjoys a farther transcendent faculty. 
 To him is imparted the master-science of what he 
 is, where he is, and the end to which he is destined. 
 He is directed by the canon of reason to reverence 
 the dignity of his own superior character, and never 
 wretchedly degrade himself into a nature to him 
 subordinate. The master-science, he is told, con- 
 sists in having just ideas of pleasures and pains, 
 true notions of the moments and consequences of 
 different actions and pursuits, whereby he may be 
 able to measure, direct or controul his desires or 
 aversions, and never merge into miseries. Remem- 
 ber this Arrianus. Then only you are qualified for 
 life, when you are able to oppose your appetites, 
 and bravely dare to call your opinions to account ; 
 when you have established judgment or reason as 
 the ruler in your mind, and by a patience of think- 
 ing, and a power of resisting, before you choose, 
 can bring your fancy to the test of truth. By this 
 means, furnished with the knowledge of the effects 
 and consequences of actions, you will know how 
 you ought to behave in every case. You will steer 
 wisely through the various rocks and shelves of life. 
 In short, Arrianus, the deliberate habit is the pro- 
 per business of man ; and his duty, to exert upon 
 the first proper call, the virtues natural to his mind; 
 that piety, that love, that justice, that veracity, that 
 
 /
 
 56 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gratitude, and that benevolence, which are the 
 glory of human kind. Whatever is fated in that 
 order of incontroulable events, by which the 
 divine power preserves and adorns the whole, 
 meet the incidents with magnanimity, and co- 
 operate with chearfulness in whatever the supreme 
 mind ordains. Let a fortitude be always exerted in 
 enduring; a justice in distribution; a prudence in 
 moral offices ; and a temperance in your natural 
 appetites and pursuits. This is the most perfect 
 humanity. This do, and you will be a fit actor in 
 the general drama ; and the only end of your exist- 
 ence is the due performance of the part allotted 
 you." 
 
 Such was Miss ISoel's grotto, and with her, if it 
 had been in my power to choose, I had rather have 
 passed in it, the day in talking of the various fine 
 subjects it contained, than go in to dinner; which a 
 servant informed us was serving up, just as I had 
 done reading the above recited philosophical lesson. 
 Back then we returned to the parlour, and there 
 found the old gentleman. We sat down imme- 
 diately to two very good dishes, and when that was 
 over, Mr. Noel and I drank a bottle of old Alicant. 
 Though this gentleman was upwarcfs of eighty, yet 
 years had not deprived him of reason and spirits. 
 He was lively and sensible, and still a most agree-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 able companion. He talked of Greece and Rome, 
 as if he had lived there before the gera of Christianity. 
 The Court of Augustus he was so far from being a 
 stranger to, that he described the principal persons 
 in it ; their actions, their pleasures, and their 
 caprices, as if he had been their contemporary. We 
 talked of these great characters. We went into 
 the gallery of Verres. We looked over the antient 
 theatres. Several of the most beautiful passages in 
 the Roman poets this excellent old man repeated, 
 and made very pleasant, but moral remarks upon 
 them. 
 
 " The cry, " said he," still is as it was in the 
 days of Horace : — 
 
 " O Gives, cives, quaerenda pecunia primum. 
 
 Virtus post nummos.-^ 
 Unde habeas nemo quaerit, sed oportet habere. 
 Quorum animis, a prima lanugine, non insedit illud?" 
 
 And what Catullus told his Lesbia, is it not ap- 
 proved to this day by the largest part of the great 
 female world ? 
 
 Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus, 
 Rumoresque Senium Severiorum, 
 Omnes uiiius aestimemus assis-
 
 5B THE LIFE OF 
 
 Soles occidere et redire possunt. 
 Nobis, cum seincl occi dit brevis lux, 
 Nox est perpetua una dormiendo. 
 Hsec discunt omnes ante Alpha et Beta puellae. 
 
 The girls all learn this lesson before their A. B. C. ; 
 and as to the opinion of the poet, it shews how 
 sadly the Augustan age, with all its learning, and 
 polite advantages, was corrupted : and as Virgil 
 makes a jest of his own fine description of a para- 
 dise or the Elysian fields ; as is evident from his 
 dismissing his hero out of the ivory gate ; which 
 shews lie was of the school of Epicurus ; it is from 
 these things manifest, thai we can never be thank- 
 ful enough for the principles and dictates of 
 revealed religion : we can never sufficiently adore 
 the goodness of the most glorious Eternal for the 
 gospel of Jesus Christ ; which opens the unbounded 
 regions of eternal day to the virtuous and charitable, 
 and promises them a rest from labour, and ever 
 blooming joys; while it condemns the wicked to 
 the regions of horror and solid darkness ; that 
 dreadful region, from whence the cries of misery for 
 ever ascend, but can never reach the throne of 
 mercy. O heavenly religion ! designed to make 
 men good, and for ever happy ; that preserves the 
 dignity of human nature, guards and increases vir-
 
 JOUX BUNGLE, ESQ. 59 
 
 tue, and brings us to the realms of perfect reason 
 and excellent glory. 
 
 " But/' continued this fine old gentleman, '' Ti- 
 bullus has ever pleased me in the description of his 
 mistress : — 
 
 * Illam quicquid agit, quo([uo vestigia flectit. 
 Componit furtim sul>3equiturque decor ; 
 Seu solvit crines, fusis decet esse capillis ; 
 Seu compsit comptis est veneranda comis. 
 Urit seu Tyria voluit procedere pulla ; 
 Urit seu nivea Candida veste venit. 
 Talis in seterno felix Vertumnus Olympo 
 Mille habet ornatui^, mille decenter habet.* 
 
 " These elegant lines contain an inimitably 
 beautiful description of outward grace, and its 
 charming effects upon all who see it. Such a grace, 
 without thinking of it, every one should strive to 
 have, whatever they are doing. They should make 
 it habitual to them. Quintilian seems to have had 
 these fine lines in view, in his description of out- 
 ward behaviour: ' Neque enim gestum componi ad 
 similitudinem saltationis volo, sed subesse aliquid, 
 in hac exercitatione puerili, unde nos non id agen- 
 tes, furtim decor ille discentibus traditus subsequa- 
 tur.' Cap. 10. 1 am not for having the mein of a 
 gentleman the same with that of a dancing-master . 
 but that a bov while young should enter upon this
 
 60 THE LIFE OF 
 
 exercise, that it may communicate a secret graceful- 
 ness to his manner ever after." 
 
 In this manner did the old gentleman and J pass 
 the time, till the clock struck five, when Miss Noel 
 came into the parlour again, and her father said he 
 must retire, to take his evening nap, and would see 
 me at supper ; for with him I must stay that night. 
 " Harriot, make tea for the gentleman. I am 
 your servant, sir," and he withdrew. To Harriot, 
 then, my life and my bliss, I turned ; and, over a 
 pot of tea, v/as as happy, I am sure, as ever with his 
 Statira sat the Conqueror of the World. I began to 
 relate once more the story of a passion, that was to 
 form one day, 1 hoped, my sole felicity in this world, 
 and with vows and protestations affirmed that 1 loved 
 from my soul. *' Charming angel," 1 said, " the 
 beauties of your mind have inspired me with a pas- 
 sion that must increase every time I behold the har- 
 mony of your face ; and by the powers divine, I 
 swear to love you as long as Heaven shall permit 
 me to breathe the vital air. Bid me then either live 
 or die, and while I do live, be assured that my life 
 will be devoted to you only." But in vain was all 
 this warmth. Miss Noel sat as unmoved as Ery- 
 cina on a monument, and only answered, with a 
 smile, •' Since your days, sir, are in my disposal, I 
 desire you will change to some other subject, and
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 61 
 
 some article that is rational and useful ; otherwise I 
 must leave the room," 
 
 '' To leave me," I replied, " would be insupport- 
 able; and, therefore, at once I have done. If you 
 please then, madam, we will consider the Miracle at 
 Babel, and enquire into the language of the world at 
 that time. Allowing, as you have proved in our 
 late conversation, that the language after the flood 
 was quite another thing from that used in Paradise, 
 and of consequence, that Moses did not write in 
 that tongue which Adam and Eve conversed in ; nor 
 is Hebrew of that primaivity which some great men 
 affirm ; yet, if there was a confusion of tongues at 
 Babel, and many languages were spoken in the 
 earth in the days of Abraham, how did he and his 
 sons converse so easily with the various nations they 
 passed through, and had occasional connexions 
 with ? For my part, I think with Hutchinson, that 
 the divine interposition at Babel was for quite an- 
 other end, to wit, to confound their confession, and 
 cast out of their minds the name or object of it, that 
 a man might not hsten to the lip or confession of his 
 neighbour. They were made to lose their own lip, 
 and to differ about the words of their atheistical 
 confession." 
 
 " As to a confusion v)f confessions," replied Miss 
 Noel, '* it appears to me to be a notion without any
 
 02 THE LIFE OF 
 
 foundation to rest on. The argument of Hutchinson 
 that the word ' shephah,' the name for a lip, when 
 used for the voice or speech, is never once in the 
 Bible used in any other sense than for confession, is 
 not good ; because, though * shephah' is often gene- 
 rally used for rehgious discourse or confession, yet 
 the phrases, ' other lips' and ' other tongues,' are 
 also used for * other languages, utterances, pronun- 
 ciations, dialects/ St. Paul, 1. Corinthians, ch. 14. 
 V. 21. 22. applies shephah to language or dialect, in 
 his quotation from the prophet Isaiah, ch. 28- v. 11, 
 12. He says, in the law it is written, * With men 
 of* other tongues and other lips will I speak unto 
 this people, and yet for all that they will not hear 
 me.' And the words of the prophet are, speaking 
 of Christ promised; ' with stammering lips, and 
 another tongue will he speak to this people.' It is 
 evident from this, that the Hebrew word shephah 
 here signifies tongues or languages, and not confes- 
 sions or discourse. So the apostle apphes it, and 
 explains the prophet: and by ' stammering lips,' 
 Isaiah means the ' uncouth pronunciations of barba- 
 rous dialects,' or languages of the nations, which 
 must produce in strangers to them ridiculous lips or 
 mouths ; and in this he refers undoubtedly to the 
 
 * The words men (ifnra not in the Greek.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 63 
 
 stammering and strange sounds at the Babel confu- 
 sion, when God, by a miracle and visible exhibition, 
 distorted their organs of speech, and gave them a 
 trembling, hesitation and precipitancy, as to vocal 
 and other powers. In short, the miraculous gift of 
 tongues would in some measure affect the saints, in 
 respect of pronunciation, as the Miracle of Babel 
 did the people of that place.* Nor is this the only 
 
 * To this stammering or uncouth pronunciation of 
 barbarous dialects the prophet EzeUel refers, chap. 36- 
 V. 3. *'Ye are made to come upon the lip of the 
 tongues :" that is, ye are become a bye-word even in the 
 heathen gabble, among the babbling nations where ye 
 are in captivity. Holloway, the author of Letter and 
 Spirit, says, the word barbarous, used in so many lan- 
 guages, (with only their respective different determina- 
 tions) for persons of strange or foreign tongues, is a 
 monument of the great confusion at Babel; this word 
 being a corruption of the reduplicate Chaldee word Bal- 
 hel, by changing the / in each place into r. Some say, 
 the word in the other languages is derived from the 
 Arabic Barbar, to " murmur like some beast." Scaliger 
 defines it, Pronunciatio vitiosa et insuavis, literasque 
 male exprimens, blsesorum balborumque more: which 
 was hitting upon the truth as to part of the original 
 manner of the confusion. Indeed Blccsus and Balhus, in 
 Latin, are both derived in like manner from Bal and 
 Balbel The Welsh have preserved a noble word for this 
 barbarism of confused language in their compounded
 
 64 THE LIFE OF 
 
 place in Scripture where shephah, lip, signifies lan- 
 guage, pronunciations, and dialects; and where 
 there is reference to the confusion of tongues at 
 Babel, Isaiah, speaking of the privileges of the godly, 
 says, * Thou shalt not see a fierce people, of a 
 
 term Baldwridd ; which is a plain compound of the 
 Hebrew Bal, and Dahar, without any other deflection 
 from the original Hebrew, than that of clianging the h 
 in the latter member of the word Dahar into the Welsh 
 w, a letter of the same organ. Moreover, from their said 
 Baldwridd, and Das, we again derive our Balderdash ; 
 which therefore signifies strictly, a heap of confused or 
 barbarous words, like those of the gabble of dialects, 
 originally gendered at Babel. See Letter and Spirit, 
 ch. 11. It is very remarkable, that this learned gentle- 
 man says he had been long of Hutchinson's mind, as to 
 a confusion of confessions, and not of tongues ; but on 
 weighing the matter, is now of another opinion . Ibid. 
 p. 115. Therefore, Hutchinson not infallible, but out 
 for once, and as Dr. Sharp well observes, this maybe an 
 earnest of deserting Hutchinson in other points of his 
 new hypothesis. See Dr. Sharp's Two Discourses en the 
 Hebrew Tongue and Character dig?Cn\%i Holloway. His Tv)o 
 Discourses on Elohim, and Defence. And his Three Dis- 
 courses on Cherubim. The Hutchinsonians lay the stress 
 of their hypothesis on the Biblical Hebrew, being the 
 language of Adam in Paradise ; and if this be taken from 
 them, they are left in a poor way indeed.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 deeper speech than thou canst perceive, (of a deeper 
 lip than thou canst hear, Heh.) of a stammering or 
 ridiculous tongue, that thou canst not understand. 
 This is enough in answer to Hutchinson and his 
 fautors, in respect of what they say on the confusion 
 at Babel. This proves that the word shephah, lip, 
 signifies language, utterance, dialect, as well as 
 confession or discourse; and therefore, Moses, in 
 his account of the Miracle at Babel, might have 
 mean'd a confusion of languages. That he did mean 
 this, is plain, not only from a tradition gone out into 
 all the earth, which is a matter of greater regard 
 than Hutchinson's fancy; but because the sacred 
 oracles allude to this event. Beside St. Paul afore- 
 mentioned, the royal prophet in Psalm Iv. ver. 9. 
 refers to the means of the division of tongues, and 
 denounces a curse in terms taken from that inflicted 
 at Babel. ' Swallow up, O Lord, and divide their 
 tongues.' This seems to describe the manner of 
 that confusion; that the substance of the one lan- 
 guage was sunk or swallowed up in a vast chaos 
 of universal babble ; and that out of that jargon it 
 was again, by another act, divided or broken into 
 many particular dissonant dialects, or tongues." 
 
 " All this," I said, " is very just, and gives me 
 delight and satisfaction. I am now convinced, not 
 only that Hebrew was not the language of Paradise, 
 
 VOL. I. '•
 
 66 THE LIFE OF 
 
 or that Adam did not speak the tongue the old world 
 used immediately before the confusion at Babel ; 
 but likewise, that the division there was a division 
 and confusion of the one language then spoken; 
 and not a confusion of confessions, as Hutchinson 
 affirms. Inform me, however, if you please, what 
 you mean by that tradition you mentioned, which 
 declared the Miracle of Babel to be a confusion of 
 languages." 
 
 ** The Jews* tradition," replied Miss Noel, " is 
 preserved in their Targiuu, and tells us, that the 
 whole earth, after the flood, was of one speech, or 
 sort of words, and when at their first remove from 
 Ararat, they came to Shinar, they consulted to build 
 them a city, and a tower for a house of adoration, 
 whose head might reach to, or be towards the hea- 
 vens, and to place an image of the host of heaven 
 for an object of worship on the top of it; and to 
 put a sword in his hand, that he might make war 
 for them against the divine armies, to prevent their 
 dispersion over the whole earth. Whereupon the 
 word of the Lord was revealed from Heaven, to exe- 
 cute vengeance upon them, and the Lord corrupted 
 their tongue, broke their speech into seventy lan- 
 guages, and scattered them over the face of the 
 whole earth. No one knew what his fellow said ; 
 and they slew one another, and ceased from build-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 ing the city. Therefore he called the name of it 
 Babel; because there the Lord mino^led toj^ether 
 the tongues of all the inhabitants of the other. 
 This you read in the Targum that was written before 
 the days of Jesus Christ, as the Jews affirm ; or, if 
 not so early, yet it is a very antient book, and the 
 doctor who composed it must certainly know the 
 meaning of the word shepha/i better than Hutchin- 
 son. It appears, upon the whole, that the argument 
 of this famous modern is without foundation." 
 
 ** It is, indeed," I answered, " but then I am 
 not able to conceive how Abraham and his sons 
 conversed with so many nations, or how the Hebrew 
 that Moses wrote in was preserved. Illuminate me 
 in these things, illustrious Harriot, and from your 
 fine understanding, let me have the honour and 
 happiness of receiving true Hebrew lessons. Pro- 
 ceed, I beseech you, and stop not till you have 
 expounded to my understanding the true nature of 
 Cherubim? What do you think of Hutchinson's 
 Rub and Rubbim, and of his notions of Ezekiel's 
 cherubic form." 
 
 *< To talk of Cherubim and Elohim," resumed 
 Miss Noel, " and say all that ought to be said, to 
 speak to any purpose ; of the three heads and four 
 visages, the bull, the man, the lion, and the eagle,
 
 68 THE LIFE OF 
 
 mentioned in the prophet, requires more knowledge 
 in Hebrew learning than I pretend to be mistress of, 
 and must take up more time than there is now to 
 spare. I may hereafter, however, if you should 
 chance to come again to our house, let you know 
 my fancies upon these grand subjects, and why I 
 cannot accord with Hutchinson and my father, in 
 their notion of the Cherubim's signifying the unity 
 of the essence, the distinction of the persons, and 
 man's being taken into the essence by his personal 
 union with the second person, whose constant em- 
 blem was the lion. This, I confess, appears to my 
 plain understanding very miserable stuff. I can see 
 no text either in the Old Testament, or in the New, 
 for a plurality of beings, co-ordinate and indepen- 
 dent. The sacred pages declare there is one origi- 
 nal perfect mind. The Lord shall be king over all 
 the earth. In that day there shall be o:ne Lord, 
 and his name One,' says the prophet Zachariahy 
 speaking of the prodigious revolution in the Gentile 
 world, whence in process of time, by the gospel of 
 Jesus Christ, the worship of one true God shall 
 prevail all over the earth, as universally as Poly- 
 theism had done before. This I dare not observe 
 to my father, as he is an admirer of Hutchinson, 
 and will not bear any contradiction ; but my private
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 69 
 
 judgment is, that Hutchinson on the Cherubim and 
 Elohim or Eloira, is a mad commentator, as I may 
 show you, if we ever happen to meet again. 
 
 " At present, all I can do more on the Hebrew 
 subject, is to observe that, in respect of the preser- 
 vation of the Hebrew tongue, I imagine the one 
 prevailing language before the Miracle at Babel, 
 which one language was afterwards called Hebrew, 
 though divided and swallowed as it were at the 
 tower, was kept without change in the line of Shem, 
 and continued their tongue. This cannot be dis- 
 puted, I believe. I likewise imagine, it must be 
 allowed that this Hebrew continued the vernacular 
 tongue of the old Canaanites. It is otherwise un- 
 accountable how the Hebrew was found to be the 
 language of the Canaanites, when the family of 
 Abraham came among them again, after an absence 
 of more than two hundred years. If they had had 
 another tongue at the confusion, was it possible for 
 Abraham, during his temporary sojournments among 
 them, and in the necessities of his peregrination, to 
 persuade so many tribes to quit their dialect, and 
 learn his language ; or, if his influence had been so 
 amazing, can it be supposed, they would not return 
 again to their old language, after he had left them, 
 and his family was away from them more than two
 
 70 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hundred years ? No, sir ; we cannot justly suppose 
 such a thing. The language of the> old Canaanites 
 could not be a different one from the H ebrew. If 
 you will look into Bochart,* you will find this was 
 his opinion. That great man says, the ante-Babel 
 language escaped the confusion two ways, viz., by 
 the Canaanites, through God's providence preserv- 
 ing it in their colonies for the future use of the 
 Hebrews, who were to possess the land ; and by the 
 patriarch Heber, as a sacred depositum for the use 
 of his posterity, and of Abraham in particular. 
 
 * The great Samuel Bochart, born at Rouen, in 
 1599, was the minister of the reformed church in the 
 town of Caen, in Normandy. His principal works are 
 his Phaleg and Canaan; works that show an amazing 
 erudition, and ought to be well read by every gentle- 
 man ; you should likewise have his Hierozo'icon, or His- 
 tory of Animals mentioned in the Sacred Books. It is a 
 good supplement to his Soipture Geography. His ser- 
 mons and dissertations are also very valuable. Bochart 
 died suddenly in the Academy at Caen, on Monday, l6th 
 May, l6'67, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. Brieux 
 wrote the following fine epitaph on him :— 
 
 Scilicet hsec cuique est data sors aequissima, talis 
 
 Ut sit mors, qualis vita peracta fuit. 
 Musarum in gremio teneris qui vixit ab annis. 
 
 Musarum in ffremio debuit ille mori.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 71 
 
 This being the case : the Phcenician or Canaani- 
 tish tongue, being the same language that the line 
 of Heber spoke, with this only difference, that by 
 the latter it was retained in greater purity, being in 
 the mouths of a few, and transmitted by instruction ; 
 it follows, that Abraham and his sons could talk 
 with all these tribes and communities ; and as to the 
 other nations he had communication with, he might 
 easily converse with them, as he was a Syrian by 
 birth, and to be sure could talk the Aramitish dia- 
 lect as well as Laban his brother. The Aramitish 
 was the customary language of the line of Shem. 
 It was their vulgar tongue. The language of the old 
 world, that was spoken immediately before the con- 
 fusion, was called Hebrew from Heber, which they 
 reserved for sacred uses." 
 
 Here Miss Noel ended, and my amazement was 
 so great, and my passion had risen so high for such 
 uncommon female intelligence, that I could not help 
 snatching this beauty to my arms, and without think- 
 ing of what I did, impressed on her balmy lips half a 
 dozen kisses. This was wrong, and gave very great 
 offence, but she was too good to be implacable, and 
 on my begging her pardon, and protesting it was not 
 a wilful rudeness, but the magic of her glorious 
 eyes, and the bright powers of her mind, that had
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 transported me beside myself, she was reconciled, 
 and asked me, if I would play a game at cards? 
 *' With delight," I replied, and immediately a pack 
 was brought in. We sat down to cribbage, and had 
 played a few games, when by accident Miss Noel 
 saw the head of my german flute, which I always 
 brought out with me in my walks, and carried in a 
 long pocket within-side my coat. ** You play, Sir, 
 I suppose, on that instrument," this lady said, ** and 
 as of all sorts of music this pleases me most, I re- 
 quest you will oblige me with any thing you please." 
 In a moment, I answered, and taking from my pocket- 
 book the following lines, I reached them to her, and 
 told her I had the day before set them to one of 
 Lully's airs, and instantly began to breathe the 
 softest harmony I could make — 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Almighty love's resistless rage. 
 No force can quell, no art assuage : 
 While wit and l)eauty both conspire. 
 To kindle in my breast the fire : 
 The matchless shape, the charmino- grace. 
 The easy air, and blooming face, 
 Each charm that does in Flavia shine. 
 To keep my captive heart combine.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 73 
 
 I feel, I feel the raging fire ! 
 And my soul burns with fierce desire 1 
 Thy freedom. Reason, I disown. 
 And beauty's pleasing chains put on ; 
 No art can set the captive free, 
 "NVho scorns his offer'd liberty ; 
 Nor is confinement any pain. 
 To him who hugs his pleasing chain. 
 
 Bright Venus ! Oflfspring of the sea ! 
 Thy sovereign dictates I obey ; 
 Submissive own thy mighty reign. 
 And feel thy power in every vein : 
 I feel thy influence all-confest, 
 I feel thee triumph in my breast ! 
 'Tis there is fix'd thy sacred court, 
 'Tis there thy Cupids gaily sport. 
 
 Come, my Boy, the altar place. 
 Add the blooming garland's grace ; 
 Gently pour the sacred wine. 
 Hear me, Venus ! Power divine ! 
 Grant the only boon I crave, 
 Hear me, Venus ! Hear thy slave ! 
 Bless my fond soul with beauty's charms. 
 And give me Flavia to my arms* 
 
 * As this song is a short imitation of the nineteenth 
 Ode of the first book of Horace, it is worth your while.
 
 74 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Just as 1 was finishing this piece of music, old 
 Mr. Noel came into the parlour, in his wonted good 
 
 Reader, to see how the Rev. P. Francis has done the 
 whole. I will here set down a few lines : 
 
 *' Urit me Glycerse nitor 
 
 Splendentis pario marmore purius : 
 Urit grata protervitas, 
 Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici." 
 
 Which lines are imitated in the first verse of the above 
 song, and a part of the second ; and the ingenious Mr. 
 Francis renders them in the following manner — 
 
 " Again for Glycera I burn. 
 And all my long forgotten flames return. 
 As Parian mar])le pure and bright. 
 
 The shining maid my bosom warms ; 
 Her face too dazzling for the sight. 
 
 Her sweet coqueting — how it charms ! " 
 
 The following : 
 
 ** In me tota mens Venus 
 Cyprum deseruit — " 
 
 of which the third verse of the song is an imitation, INIr. 
 Francis translates thus : 
 
 ** Whole Venus rushing through my veins. 
 No longer in her favourite Cyprus reigns."
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 humour, and seemed very greatly pleased with me 
 and my instrument. He told me, I was the young 
 man he wanted to be acquainted with, and that if it 
 was no detriment to me, T should not leave him this 
 month to come. " Come, Sir," continued this fine 
 old gentleman, " let me hear another piece of your 
 music — vocal or instrumental as you will, for I sup- 
 pose you sing as well as you play." " Both you 
 shall have, Sir," I replied, " to the best of my abili- 
 
 And the lines • 
 
 " Hie vivum mihi cespitem, hie 
 
 Verbenas, pueri, ponite thuraque 
 Bimi cum patera meri : 
 Mactat^ veniet laenior hostia : " 
 
 Which are imitated in the fourth verse of the song, Mr* 
 Francis translates as follows, 
 
 " Here let the living altar rise, 
 
 Adorn'd with every herb and flower ; 
 Here flame the incense to the skies. 
 
 And purest wines libation pour ; 
 Due honours to the Goddess paid. 
 
 Soft sinks to willing love the yielding maid." 
 
 You see in this the difference between a translation and 
 an imitation.
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ties, and by way of change, I will give you first a 
 song, called 
 
 THE SOLITUDE. 
 
 Ye lofty mountains, whose eternal snows 
 Like Atlas seem to prop the distant skies ; 
 
 ^Vhile shelter'd by your high and ample brows 
 All nature's beauties feast my ravish'd eyes : 
 
 And far beneath me o'er the distant plain 
 
 The thunders break, and rattling tempests reign. 
 
 Here, when Aurora with her cheerful beam 
 And rosy blushes marks approaching day ; 
 
 Oft do I walk along the purling stream, / 
 
 And see the bleating flocks around me stray : 
 
 The woods, the rocks, each charm that strikes my sight. 
 
 Fills my whole breast with innocent delight. 
 
 Here gaily dancing on the flow'ry ground 
 The cheerful shepherds join their flute and voice ; 
 
 While thro' the groves the woodland songs resound. 
 And fill th' untroubled mind with peaceful joys. 
 
 Music and love inspire the vocal plain. 
 
 Alone the turtle tunes her plaintive strain. 
 
 Here the green turf invites my wearied head 
 
 On nature's lap to undisturb'd repose ; 
 Here gently laid to rest, each care is fled ; 
 
 Peace and content my happy eye-lids close.
 
 JOIIV BUXCLE, ESQ. 77 
 
 Ye golden flattering dreams of state adieu ! 
 
 As bright my slumbers are, more soft than you. 
 
 Here free from all the tempests of the great, 
 Craft and ambition can deceive no more ! 
 
 Beneath these shades I find a blest retreat. 
 
 From Envy's rage secure, and Fortune's pow'r : 
 
 Here call the actions of past ages o'er. 
 
 Or truth's immortal source alone explore. 
 
 Here far from all the busy world's alarms, 
 I prove in peace the iMuse's sabred leisure : 
 
 No cares within, no distant sound of arms. 
 Break my repose, or interrupt my pleasure. 
 
 Fortune and Fame I Deceitful forms I Adieu ! 
 
 The world's a trifle far beneath my view. 
 
 This song delighted the old gentleman exceed- 
 ingly. He told me, he was charmed with it, not 
 only for the fine music I made of it, but the morality 
 of it, and liked me so much, that I was most heartily 
 welcome to make his solitary retreat my home, as 
 often and as long as I pleased. And indeed I did 
 so, and continued to behave in such a manner, that 
 in two months time, I gained so entirely his affec- 
 tions, and so totally the heart of his admirable 
 daughter, that I might have her in wedlock when I 
 pleased, after the expiration of that current year, 
 which was the young lady's request, and be secured 
 of his estate at his death ; beside a large fortune to
 
 78 THE LIKE OF 
 
 be immediately paid down ; and this, though my 
 father should refuse to settle any thing on me, or 
 Miss Noel, my wife. This was generous and 
 charming as my heart could desire. 1 thought my- 
 self the happiest of men. Every week I went to 
 Eden-Park, one time or other, to see my dear Miss 
 Noel, and pay my respects to her worthy father. 
 We were while I stayed a most happy family, and 
 enjoyed such satisfactions as few I believe have 
 experienced in this tempestuous hemisphere. Mr. 
 Noel was passionately fond of his daughter, and he 
 could not regard me more if I had been his own son, 
 I loved my Harriot with a fondness beyond descrip- 
 tion, and that glorious girl had all the esteem I 
 could wish she had for me. Our mutual felicity 
 could rise no higher till we gave our hands, as we 
 had already plighted our hearts. 
 
 This world is a series of visionary scenes, and 
 contains so little solid, lasting felicity, as I have 
 found it, that I cannot call life more than a decep- 
 tion ; and, as Swift says it, " He is the happiest 
 man, who is best deceived." When I thought my- 
 self within a fortnight of being married to Miss 
 Noel, and thereby made as completely happy in 
 every respect as it was possible for a mortal man to 
 be, the small pox step'd in, and in seven days time, 
 reduced the finest human frame in the universe to
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 79 
 
 the most hideous and offensive block. The most 
 amiable of human creatures mortified all over, and 
 became a spectacle the most hideous and appalling. 
 This broke her father's heart in a month's time, and 
 the paradise I had in view, sunk into everlasting 
 night. 
 
 My heart, upon this sad accident, bled and 
 mourned to an extreme degree. All the tender pas- 
 sions were up in my soul, and with great difficulty 
 could I keep my ruffled spirits in tolerable decorum. 
 I lost what I valued more than my life ; more than 
 repeated millions of v/orlds, if it had been possible 
 to get them in exchange. This engaged, beloved 
 partner, was an honour to her sex, and an ornament 
 to human kind. She was one of the wisest and most 
 agreeable of women; and her life quite glorious for 
 piety t;) God, compassion to the necessitous and 
 miserable, benevolence and good will to all, with 
 every other grace and virtue. These shone with a 
 bright lustre in her whole deportment, and rendered 
 her beloved, and the delight of all that knew her. 
 Sense and genius were in her united, and by study, 
 reflection, and application, she improved the talents, 
 in the happiest manner. She had acquired a supe- 
 riority in thinking, speaking, writing, and acting ; 
 and in manners, her behaviour, her language, her 
 design and her understanding was inexpressibly
 
 80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 charming. Miss Noel died in the 24th year of her 
 age, the 29th of December^ in the year 1724. 
 
 This dismal occurrence prey'd powerfully on my 
 spirits for some time, and for near two months, I 
 scarcely spoke a word to any one. I was silent, but 
 not sullen. As my tears and lamentations could 
 not save her, so I knew they could not fetch her 
 back. Death and the grave have neither eyes nor 
 ears. The thing to be done upon so melancholy an 
 occasion, is to adore the Lord of infinite wisdom, as 
 he has a right to strike our comforts dead ; and so 
 improve the awful event, by labouring to render our 
 whole temper and deportment Christian and divine, 
 that we may be able to live, while we do live, 
 superior to the strokes of fortune, and the calamities 
 of human life ; and when God bids us die, in what- 
 ever manner, and at whatever time it may be, have 
 nothing to do but to die, and so to enter into our 
 master's joy. This is wisdom. This good we may 
 extract from such doleful things. This wu.s the 
 effect my dear Miss Noel's death had on me, and 
 when I saw myself deprived of so invaluable a thing 
 in this world, I determined to double my diligence 
 in so acting my part in it, that whenever I was to 
 pass through the last extremity of nature, I might 
 be dismissed with a blessing to another world, and 
 by virtue of the sublime excellencies of our holy
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 8l 
 
 religion, proceed to the abodes of imraortality and 
 immutable felicity. 
 
 I wish I could persuade you, reader, to resolve 
 in the same manner. If you are young, and have 
 not yet experienced life, believe me, all is vanity, 
 disappointment, weariness, and dissatisfaction, and 
 in the midst of troubles and uncertainties, we are 
 hastening to an unknown world, from whence we 
 shall never again return. Whether our dissolution 
 be near, we know not ; but this is certain, that Death, 
 that universal conqueror, is making after us apace, 
 to seize us as his captives ; and therefore, though a 
 man live many years, and rejoice in them all, which 
 is the case of very few, yet let him remember the 
 days of darkness. 
 
 And when death does come, our lot may be the 
 most racking pains and distempers, to fasten us 
 down to our sick-beds, till we resign our spirits 
 to some strange region, our breath to the com- 
 mon air, and our bodies to the dust from whence 
 they were taken. Dismal situation ! If in the 
 days of our health, we did not make our happiness 
 and moral worth correspond, did not labour, in the 
 time of our strength, to escape from wrong opinion 
 and bad habit, and to render our minds sincere and 
 incorrupt; if we did not worship and love the 
 supreme mind, and adore his divine administration, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 S2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and all the secrets of his providence. If this was 
 not our case, before corruption begins to lay hold of 
 us, deplorable must we be, when torments come 
 upon us, and we have only hopeless wishes that we 
 had been wiser, as we descend in agonies to our 
 solitary retreat: to proceed from thence to judg- 
 ment. Language cannot paint the horrors of such 
 a condition. The anguish of mind, and the torture 
 of body, are a scene of misery beyond descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 Or, if without torment, we lie down in silence, 
 and sink into the land of forgetfulness, yet, since 
 the Lord Jesus is to raise us from the regions of 
 darkness, and bring us to the sessions of righteous- 
 ness, where all our actions are to be strictly tried 
 and examined, and every one shall be judged ac- 
 cording to the deeds done in the body, whether 
 they have been good or evil; what can screen us 
 from the wrath of that mighty power, which is to 
 break off the strong fetters of death, and to throw 
 open the iron gates of the grave, if injustice, cruelty, 
 and oppression, have been our practice in this 
 world ; or if, in the neglect of the distressed and 
 hungry, we have given up ourselves to chambering 
 and wantonness, to gluttony and voluptuousness? 
 It is virtue and obedience, acts of goodness and 
 mercy, that only can deliver us. If we worship in
 
 JOHN' BUXCLE, ESQ. S3 
 
 spirit and in truth the most glorious of immortal 
 beings, that God who is omnipotent in wisdom and 
 action, and perform all the offices of love and 
 friendship to every man, then will our Lord pro- 
 nounce us the blessed of his Father. If we do 
 evil, we shall come forth unto the resurrection of 
 damnation. This merits your attention, reader, and 
 I hope you will immediately begin to ponder, what 
 it is to have a place assigned in inconceivable hap- 
 piness or misery for ever. 
 
 Having thus lost Miss Noel, and my good old 
 friend, her worthy father, I left the university, and 
 went down to the country, after five years and three 
 months absence, to see how things were posited at 
 home, and pay my respects to my father ; but I found 
 them very little to my liking, and in a short time, 
 returned to Dublin again. He had lately married 
 in his old age a young wife, who was one of the 
 most artful, false, and insolent of women, and to 
 gratify her to the utmost of his power, had not only 
 brought her nephew into his house, but was ridicu- 
 lously fond of him, and lavishly gratified all his 
 desires. Whatever this little brute, the son of a 
 drunken beggar, who had been a journey-man 
 glover, was pleased, in wantonness, to call for, and 
 that his years, then sixteen, could require, my
 
 84 THE LIFE OF 
 
 father's fortune in an instant produced ; while 
 scarcely one of my rational demands could be 
 answered. Money, cloaths; servants, horses, dogs, 
 and all things he could fancy, were given in abun- 
 dance ; and to please the basest of women, and the 
 most cruel step-mother that ever the devil inspired 
 to make the son of another woman miserable, I was 
 denied almost every thing. The liberal allowance 
 I had at the university was taken from me. Even 
 a horse to ride out to the neighbouring gentlemen, 
 was refused me, though my father had three stables 
 of extraordinary cattle ; and till I purchased one, 
 was forced to walk it, wherever T had a mind to 
 visit. What is still more incredible, if any thing of 
 severity can be so, when a mother-in-law is sove- 
 reign, I was not allowed to keep my horse even at 
 grass on the land, though five hundred acres of 
 freehold estate surrounded the mansion, but obliged 
 to graze it at a neighbouring farmer's. Nor was 
 this all the hard treatment I received. I was or- 
 dered by my father to become the young man's 
 preceptor ; to spend my precious time in teaching 
 this youngster, and in labouring to make the little 
 despicable dunce a scholar. All this was more than 
 I could bear. My life became insupportable, and 
 I resolved to range even the wilds of Africa, if
 
 JOHX BUNCLE, ESQ. 85 
 
 nothing better offered, rather than Hve a miserable 
 slave under the cruel tyranny of those unrelenting 
 oppressors. 
 
 My father, however, by the way, was as fine a 
 gentleman as ever lived, a man of extraordinary 
 understanding, and a scholar ; likewise remarkably 
 just and good to all the world, except myself, after 
 I left the university : and to do him all the justice 
 in my power, and vindicate him so far as I am able, 
 I must not conceal, that great as the ascendancy 
 was, which my mother-in-law had over him, and 
 as much as he was henpecked by that low-bred 
 woman, who had been his servant maid, yet it was 
 not to her only that my sufferings were owing. 
 Religion had a hand in my misery. False religion 
 was the spring of that paternal resentment I suffered 
 under. 
 
 It was my father's being wont to have prayers 
 read every night and morning in his family, and the 
 office was the litany of the common-prayer book. 
 This work, on my coming home, was transferred 
 from my sister to me, and for about one week I 
 performed to the old gentleman's satisfaction, as 
 my voice was good, and my reading distinct and 
 clear ; but this office was far from being grateful to 
 me, as I was become a strict Unitarian^ by the les- 
 sons I had received from my private tutor in college,
 
 86 THE LIFE 01 
 
 and my own examinations of the vulgar faith. It 
 went against my conscience to use the tritheistic 
 form of prayer, and became at last so uneasy to me, 
 that I altered the prayers the first Sunday morning, 
 and made them more agreeable to Scripture as I 
 conceived. My father at this was very highly en- 
 raged, and his passion arose to so great a height, 
 upon my defending my confession, and refusing to 
 read the established form, that he called me the 
 most impious and execrable of wretches, and with 
 violence drove me from his presence. Soon after 
 however he sent me Lord Nottingham's Letter to Mr, 
 Whiston, and desired I would come over to him 
 when 1 had carefully read it over. I did so, and he 
 asked me what I thought of the book. I answered, 
 that I thought it a weak piece, and if he would hear 
 me with patience, in relation to that in particular, 
 and to the case in general, perhaps he might think 
 my religion a little better than at present he sup- 
 posed it to be. '* I will hear you," he said, " pro- 
 ceed." i then immediately began, and for a full 
 hour repeated an apology I had prepared*. He did 
 
 * The readelr will find this apolog-y in the Appendix to 
 this life, [see note, p. 41, ante]. By scripture and argu- 
 ment, without any regard to the notions of the fathers, I 
 there endeavour to prove, that God the Father, the be-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 8/ 
 
 not interrupt me once, and when I had done, all ho 
 replied was, " I see you are to be placed among the 
 incurables. Begone," he said, with stern disdain; 
 and I resolved to obey. Indeed it was impossible 
 for me to stay, for my father took no farther notice 
 of me, and my mother-in-law and the boy, did all 
 they could invent to render my life miserable. 
 
 On the first day of May, 1725; early in the 
 morning, as the clock struck one, I mounted my ex- 
 cellent mare, and with my boy O'Fin, began to 
 journey as I had projected, on seeing how things 
 went. I did not communicate my design to a soul, 
 nor took my leave of any one, but in the true spirit 
 of adventure, abandoned my father's dwelling, and 
 set out to try what fortune would produce in my 
 
 ginning and cause of all things, is One Being, infinite in 
 such a manner, that his infinity is an infinity of fulness 
 as well as immensity; and must be not only ^\^thout 
 limits, but also mthout diversity, defect or interruption : 
 and of consequence his Unity so true and real, that it 
 will admit of no diversity or distinction of persons : — 
 that as to the Lord Jesus Christ, he was the servant 
 chosen of this tremendous God, to redeem mankmd j 
 but his holy soul so far in perfection above Adam or any 
 of his posterity, and possessed so much a greater share 
 of the indwelling of the divine life and nature than any 
 other creature, that he might, compared to us, with a 
 just figure of speech, be called God.
 
 88 THE LITE OF 
 
 favor. 1 had tlie world before rae, and Providence 
 my guide. As to ray substance it consisted of a 
 purse of gold, that contained fifty Spanish pistoles, 
 and half a score moidores ; and I had one bank note 
 for five hundred pounds, which my dear Miss Noel 
 left me by her will, the morning she sickened ; it 
 w^as all she had of her own to leave to any one. 
 With this I set forward, and in five days time 
 arrived from the Western extremity of Ireland at a 
 village called Ring's-end, that lies on the Bay of 
 Dublin. Three days I rested there, and at the Con- 
 niving-House,* and then got my horses on board a 
 
 * The Conniving-House, as the gentlemen of Trinity 
 eall'd it in my time, and long after ; was a little public 
 house, kept by Jack M'Lean, about a quarter of a mile 
 beyond Rings-end, on the top of the beach, within a few 
 yards of the sea. Here we used to have the finest fish at 
 all times , and in the season, green peas and all the most 
 excellent vegetables. The ale here was always extraor- 
 dinary, and every thing the best ; which, with its delight- 
 ful situation, rendered it a charming place of a summer's 
 evening. Many a happy evening have I passed in this 
 pretty thatched house with the famous Larrey Grogan^ 
 who played on the bag-pipes extremely well ; dear Jack 
 Lattin, matchless on the fiddle, and the most agreeable 
 of companions; that ever cliariijing young fellow. Jack 
 Wall, the son of counsellor Maurice Wall; the most 
 worthy, the most ingenious, the most engaging of men ;
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. S9 
 
 ship that was ready to sail, and bound for the land I 
 was born in, I mean Old England. 
 
 The wind, in the afternoon, seemed good and 
 fair, and we were in hopes of getting to Chester the 
 next day ; but at midnight a tempest arose, which 
 held in all the horrors of hurricane, thunder and 
 lightning, for two nights and a day, and left us no 
 hope of escape. It was a dreadful scene indeed, 
 and looked as if the last fatal assault was making on 
 the globe. As we had many passengers, their cries 
 were terrific, and aifected me more than the flashing 
 fires and the winds. For my part, 1 was well recon- 
 ciled to the great change, but I confess that nature 
 shrunk at the frightful manner of my going off, 
 which on the second night, I expected every mo- 
 ment. At last, however, we got into Whitehaven. 
 It pleased the great King of all the earth to bid the 
 storm Have done. 
 
 Four remarkable things I noticed while the tem- 
 pest lasted. One was that the Dean of Derry, Dr. 
 W HALEY, whom we had on board, who had nine- 
 
 and many other delightful fellows, who went in the 
 days of their youth to the shades of eternity. When I 
 think of them and their evening songs " We ^\'ill go to 
 Johnny JM'Lean's to try if his ale be good or not, etc.'* 
 and that years and infirmities begin to oppress me — 
 What is life !
 
 90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 teen hundred a year froni the church, for teaching 
 the people to be Christians, was vastly more afraid 
 than one young lady of the company, who appeared 
 quite serene. The Dean, though a fine orator at 
 land, was ridiculous in his fears at sea. He screamed 
 as loud as any of the people : but this young lady 
 behaved, like an angel in a storm. She was calm 
 and resigned, and sat with the mate and me during 
 the second night, discoursing of the divine power, 
 and the laws of nature in such uproars. By the 
 way, neither mate, nor master, nor hand could keep 
 the deck. The ship was left to the mercy of the 
 winds and waves. 
 
 The second remarkable thing was that as this 
 young lady went naked into bed in her cabin, the 
 first night before the tempest began to stir, it was 
 not many hours till a sea struck us upon the quarter, 
 and drove in one of our quarter, and one of our 
 stern dead lights, where we shipped great quantities 
 of water, that put us under great apprehensions of 
 foundering, and filled so suddenly the close wooden 
 bed in which Miss Melmoth lay, that had I not 
 chanced to be then leaning against the partition, 
 and snatched her out, the moment I found myself 
 all over wet, and half covered with the breaking sea, 
 she must inevitably have perished. I ran up on 
 deck with her in my arms, and laid her almost sense-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ, 91 
 
 less and naked there, and as there was no staying 
 many minutes in that place, I threw my great coat over 
 her, and then brought her down to my own birth, 
 which I gave her, and got her dry cloaths from her 
 trunk, and made her drink a large glass of brandy, 
 which saved her life. She got no cold, which I 
 thought very strange, but was hurt a little in the re- 
 move. When all was over she protested she would 
 never go naked into bed, on board ship, again. 
 
 The third particular was, that there were some 
 officers on board, most monstrously wicked men, 
 and when we were given over by the captain, and 
 no hope he thought of being saved, these warriors 
 lamented like young children, and were the most 
 dismal disturbing howlers on board : yet, when we 
 got on land, they had done with O Lord, Lord, 
 and began again their obscene talk, and to damn 
 themselves at every word to the centre of hell. 
 
 The fourth thing was this. There was on board 
 with us a young gentleman of my acquaintance, one 
 Pierce Gavan, who had been a fellow-commoner 
 in my time of Trinity, Dublin. The first day of 
 the storm, he was carried over-board by a rolling 
 sea, and fairly lodged in the ocean, at above twenty 
 yards distance from the ship ; but the next tumbling 
 billow brought him back again. He was laid on 
 the deck without any hurt. On the contrary, one
 
 92 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Charles Henley, a young merchant, was beat 
 over, and we never saw him more. 
 
 Henley was not only a man of sense and pru- 
 dence, who had an honest mind, and a cultivated 
 understanding, but by search and enquiries into the 
 doctrines, institutions and motives of revealed reli- 
 gion, had the highest regard for the truths of genuine 
 Christianity, and chose the best means in his power 
 to make himself acceptable to God. 
 
 Gavan, on the contrary, had no sense of reli- 
 gion, nor did he ever think of the pov/er and good- 
 ness of God. He was a most profane swearer, 
 drank excessively, and had the heart to debauch 
 every pretty woman he saw, if it had been possible 
 for him to do so much mischief. Yet this man, Avho 
 never reformed that I heard, and whose impieties 
 have even shocked young fellows who were no 
 saints, was astonishingly preserved; and Henley, 
 who had the most just natural notions, and listened 
 to Revelation, perished miserably ! How shall we 
 account for such things? By saying, that the world 
 that now is, and the world that is to come, are in 
 the hands of God, and every transaction in them is 
 quite right, though the reason of the procedure may 
 be beyond our view. "We cannot judge certainly of 
 the ends and purposes of Providence, and therefore 
 to pass judgment on the ways of God, is not only
 
 JOHN BUNCLF, ESQ. 93 
 
 impious, but ridiculous to the last degree. This we 
 know for certain, that whenever, or however, a good 
 man falls, he falls into the hand of God, and since 
 we must all die, the difference as to time and man- 
 ner, signifies very little, when there is an infinite 
 wisdom to distinguish every case, and an infinite 
 goodness to compensate all our miseries. This is 
 enough for a Christian. Happy is the man, and for 
 ever safe, let what will happen, who acts a rational 
 part, and has the fear and love of God in his 
 thoughts. With pleasure he looks into all the 
 scenes of futurity. When storms and earthquakes 
 threaten calamity, distress, and death, he maintains 
 an inward peace. 
 
 May 10th. — When we had obtained the wished 
 for shore, the passengers all divided. The Dean and 
 his lady, and some other ladies, went one way, to an 
 inn recommended to them by a gentleman on board ; 
 the warriors and Gavan marched to another house ; 
 and the young lady, whose life was by me preserved, 
 and I, went to the Talbot, which the mate informed 
 me had the best things and lodging, though the 
 smallest inn of the town. Thismate, one Whitwell, 
 deserves to be particularly mentioned, as he was 
 remarkable for pohte breeding, good sense, and a 
 considerable share of learning, though a sailor; as 
 remarkable this way, as the captain of the ship was
 
 94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the other, that is for being the roughest and most 
 brutal old tar that ever commanded a vessel. 
 
 WiiitWELL the mate, about thirty-six years of 
 age at this time, told me, he was the son of a man 
 who once had a great fortune, and gave him an 
 university education, but left an estate so encum- 
 bered with debts, and ruined with mortgages, that 
 its income was almost nothing, and therefore the 
 son sold the remains of it, and went to sea with an 
 East- India captain, in the twenty-second year of his 
 age, and w^as so fortunate abroad, that he not only 
 acquired riches, in the four years time that he 
 tralGScked about, between Batavia and the Gulph 
 of Persia, but married a young Indian lady, the 
 daughter of a Rajah, or petty Prince in the Mogul 
 Empire; who was rich, wise and beautiful, and 
 made his life so very happy, for the three years she 
 lived, that his state was a Paradise, and he seemed 
 a little sovereign. But this fleeting scene was soon 
 over, and on his return to England with all his 
 wealth, their ship was taken by the pirates of Mada- 
 gascar, who robbed him of all he had, and made 
 him a miserable slave for more than two years, 
 when he escaped from them to the tawny generation 
 of Arabs, v/ho lived on the mountains, the other side 
 of this African island, who used him with great 
 humanity ; their chief being very fond of him, and
 
 JOHN BUN CLE, ESQ. 95 
 
 entertaining him in his mud-wall palace : he mar- 
 ried there a pretty little yellow creature, niece to the 
 poor ruler, and for twelve months was very far from 
 being miserable with this partner, as they had a hand- 
 some cottage and some cattle, and this wife was 
 good-humour itself, very sensible, and a religious 
 woman ; her religion being half Mahometanism and 
 half Judaism. But she died at the year's end, and 
 her uncle the Chief, not living a month after her, 
 Whit WELL came down from the mountains to the 
 next sea coast under the conduct of one of the Ara- 
 bians, his friend, and meeting with a European ship 
 there, got at last to London. A little money he had 
 left behind him in England, by way of reserve, in 
 case of accidents, if he should ever return to his own 
 country, he regained, and with this drest himself, 
 got into business, and came at last to be mate of the 
 ship called the Skinner and Jenkins. His destiny, 
 he added, was untoward, but as he had thought, and 
 read, and seen enough in his wide travels, to be con- 
 vinced, the world, and every being, and every atom 
 of it were directed and governed by unerring wis^ 
 dom, he derived hopes and comforts from a due ac- 
 knowledgement of God. There are more born to 
 misery than to happiness, in this life ; but all may 
 die to be for ever glorious and blessed, if they please. 
 This conclusion was just and beautiful, and a life
 
 96 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and sentiments so uncommon I thought deserved a 
 memorial. 
 
 Miss Melmotii and I continued at the Talbot 
 for three weeks, and during that time, breakfasted, 
 dined, and supped together. Except the hours of 
 sleep we were rarely from each other. We walked 
 out together every day, for hours conversed, some- 
 times went to cards, and often she sung, delightfully 
 sung, while on my flute I played. With the great- 
 est civility, and the most exact good manners, we 
 were as intimate as if we had been acquainted for 
 ages, and we found a satisfaction in each other's 
 company, as great as lovers generally experience ; 
 yet not so much as one syllable of the passion was 
 mentioned : not the least hint of love on either side 
 was given, while we stayed at Whitehaven : and I 
 believe neither of us had a thought of it. It was a 
 friendship the most pure and exalted, that com- 
 menced at my saving her life, in the manner I 
 have related, and by some strange kind of magic, 
 our notions and inclinations, tempers and senti- 
 ments, had acquired such a sameness in a few days, 
 that we seemed as two spiritual socias, or duplicates 
 of each other's mind. Body was quite out of the 
 case, though this lady had an extravagance of beauty. 
 My sole delight was that fine percipient, which shed 
 a lustre on her outward charms. How long this
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 97 
 
 State would have lasted, had we continued more 
 time together, and had the image of the late Miss 
 Noel been more effaced, or worn out of the sensory 
 of my head, I cannot say ; but while it did last, 
 there could be nothing more strange. To see two 
 young people of different sexes, in the highest spi- 
 rits and most confirmed health live together, for 
 twenty-one days, perfectly pleased with each other, 
 entirely at their own disposal, and as to fortune, 
 having abundantly enough between them both for a 
 comfortable life ; and yet, never utter one word, nor 
 give a look, that could be construed a declaration of 
 the passion, or a tendency towards a more intimate 
 union; to complete that connexion which nature 
 and providence requires of beings circumstanced as 
 we were : was very odd. We sat up till the clock 
 struck twelve every night, and talked of a vast 
 variety of things, from the Bible down to the Clouds 
 of Aristophanes, and from the comedies and trage- 
 dies of Greece and Rome to the Minerva of Sanctius, 
 and Hickes's Northern Thesaurus. Instead of Venus 
 or any of her court, our conversation would often 
 be on the Morals of Cicero, his Academics ^ and De 
 Finihus; on the English or the Roman History; 
 Shakespear's scenes of nature, or maps of life ; 
 whether the CEdipus or the Electra of Sophocles was 
 the best tragedy; and the scenes in which Plautus 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 9^S THE LITE OF 
 
 and Terence most excelled. Like two critics, or 
 two grammarians, antiquarians, historians, or philo- 
 sophers, would we pass the evening with the great- 
 est cheerfulness and delight. 
 
 Miss Melmoth had an astonishing memory, 
 and talked on every subject extremely well. She 
 remembered all she had read. Her judgment was 
 strong, and her reflections always good. She told 
 me her mother was another Mrs. Dacier, and as 
 her father was killed in a duel, when she was very 
 young, the widow Melmoth, instead of going into 
 the world, continued to live at her country seat, and 
 diverted herself with teaching her daughter the 
 languages of Greece and Rome, and in educating 
 her heart and mind. This made this young lady a 
 master of the Latin tongue and Greek, and enabled 
 her to acquire a knowledge so various and fine, that 
 it was surprising to hear her expatiate and explain. 
 She talked with so much ease and good humour, 
 and had a manner so cheerful and polite, that her 
 discourse was always entertaining, even though the 
 subject happened to be, as it was one evening, the 
 paulo post futurum of a Greek verb. These things, 
 however, were not the only admirable ones in this 
 character. So happily had her good mother formed 
 and instructed her mind, that it appeared full of all 
 the principles of rational honour, and devoted to
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 99 
 
 that truly God-like religion, which exalts the soul \ 
 to an affection rather than dread of the supreme ] 
 Lord of all things, and to a conviction that his laws j 
 lead us both to happiness here and hereafter. She 
 thoroughly understood the use and excellence of 
 Revelation, and had extracted from the inspired 
 volumes everlasting comfort and security under thb\ 
 apprehensions of the divine power and majesty : but \ 
 she told me she could not think rites and outwaiji/ 
 performances were essential to real religion. She ^ 
 considered what was just and beautiful in these j 
 things as useful and assisting only to the devout-^ 
 mind. In a word, this young lady was wise and 
 good, humble and charitable. I have seen but one 
 of her sex superior to her in the powers of mind 
 and the beauties of body, and that was Miss Noel, 
 Very few have I known that were equal. 
 
 The second day of June, Miss Melmoth and I 
 left Whitehaven, and proceeded from thence to 
 Westmoreland. We travelled for five days toge- 
 ther, till we came to Brugh under Stainmore, where 
 we stayed a night at Lamb's, a house I recommend 
 to the reader, if ever he goes that way ; and the next 
 morning we parted. Miss Melmoth and her ser- 
 vants went right onwards to Yorkshire, and I turned 
 to the left to look for one Charles Turner, who 
 had been my near friend in the university, and who
 
 100 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lived in some part of the north-east extremity of 
 Westmoreland, or Yorkshire. But before we sepa- 
 rated on the edge of Stainmore, we stopped at the 
 Bell to breakfast, which is a little lone house on a 
 descent to a vast romantic glen, and all the public 
 house there is in this wild silent road, till you come 
 to Jack Railton, the quaker's house at Bows. 
 We had a pot of coffee and toast and butter for 
 breakfast, and, as usual, we were very cheerful over 
 it ; but when we had done, and it was time to de- 
 part, a melancholy, like a black and dismal cloud, 
 began to overspread the charming face of Char- 
 lotte, and after some silence, the tears burst from 
 her eyes. " What is the matter, Miss Melmoth," 
 I said: " what makes this amazing change?" " I 
 will tell you, sir," this beauty replied, " To you I 
 owe my life, and for three weeks past have lived 
 with you in so very happy a way, that the end of 
 such a scene, and the probability of my never see- 
 ing you more, is too much for me." " Miss Mel- 
 MOTii," I answered, *' you do me more honour than I 
 deserve in shedding tears for me, and since you can 
 think me worth seeing again, I promise you upon my 
 sacred word, that as soon as I have found a beloved 
 friend of mine I am going up the hills to look for, 
 and have paid my respects to him for a while, if he 
 ■is to be found in this desolate part of the world, I
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 101 
 
 will travel with my face in the next place, if it be 
 possible, towards the east-riding of Yorkshire, and 
 be at Mrs. Asgil's door, where you say you are to 
 be found." This restored the glories to Char- 
 lotte's face again^ and for the first time I gave 
 Miss Melmoth a kiss, and bade her adieu. 
 
 June 8th. — Having thus lost my charming com- 
 panion, I travelled into a vast valley, enclosed by 
 mountains whose tops were above the clouds, and 
 soon came into a country that is wilder than the 
 campagna of Rome, or the uncultivated vales of the 
 Alps andAppenines. Warm with a classical enthu- 
 siasm, I journey'd on, and with fancy's eye beheld 
 the rural divinities, in those sacred woods and 
 groves, which shade the sides of many of the vast 
 surrounding fells, and the shores and promontories 
 of many lovely lakes and bright running streams. 
 For several hours I travelled over mountains tre- 
 mendous to behold, and through vales the most en- 
 chanting in the world. Not a man or house could I 
 see in eight hours time, but towards five in the after- 
 noon, there appeared at the foot of a hill a sweetly 
 situated cottage, that was half covered with trees, 
 and stood bv the side of a laro-e falling stream : a 
 
 ./ DO 
 
 vale extended to the south from the door, that was 
 terminated with rocks, and precipices on precipices, 
 in an amazing point of view, and through the
 
 10*2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ftowery ground, the water was beautifully seen, as 
 it winded to a deeper flood at the bottom of the vale. 
 Half a dozen cows were grazing in view : and a few 
 flocks of feeding sheep added to the beauties of the 
 scene. 
 
 To this house I sent my boy, to enquire who 
 lived there, and to know, if for the night 1 could be 
 entertained, as I knew not where else to go. OTin 
 very quickly returned, and informed me, that one 
 farmer Price was the owner of the place, but had 
 o-one in the morning to the next town, and that his 
 wife said I was welcome to what her house afforded. 
 . In then I went, and was most civilly received by an 
 exceedingly pretty woman, who told me her husband 
 would soon be at home, and be glad she was sure to 
 see me at their lonely place; for he was no stranger 
 to gentlemen and the world, though at present he 
 rarely conversed with any. one. She told me, their 
 own supper would be ready in an hour hence, and in 
 the mean time would have me take a can of fine ale 
 and a bit of bread. She brought me a cup of extra- 
 ordinary malt-drink and a crust, and while I was 
 eating my bread, in came Mr. Price. 
 
 The man seemed very greatly astonished at 
 entering the room, and after he had looked with 
 great earnestness at me for a little while, he cried 
 out, "Good heaven! What do 1 see! Falstaff,
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 103 
 
 my class-fellow, and my second self. My dear 
 friend you are welcome, thrice welcome to this part 
 of the world." All this surprised me not a little, for 
 I could not recollect at once a face that had been 
 greatly altered by the small-pox : and it was not till 
 I reflected on the name Price, that I knew I was 
 then in the house of one of my school-fellows, with 
 whom I had been most intimate, and had played the 
 part of Plump Jack in Henry the JFourth, when 
 he did Prince Henry. This was an unexpected 
 meeting indeed : and considering the place, and all 
 the circumstances belonging to the scene, a thing 
 more strange and affecting never came in my way. 
 Our pleasure at this meeting was very great, and 
 when the most affectionate salutations were over, 
 my friend Price proceeded in the following manner. 
 " Often have I remember'd you since we parted, 
 and exclusive of the Greek and English plays we 
 have acted together at Sheridan's school,* in which 
 
 * The School-house of the famous Dr. Sheridan, in 
 Capel Street, Dublin, where many of the younger 
 branches of the most distinguished families in Ireland, 
 at that period, received the first rudiments of their edu- 
 cation) was formerly King James II.'s Mint-house. The 
 only view of it extant, is a vignette in Samuel Whyte*s 
 Poems, printed by Subscription at Dublin, in 17P3. 8vo. 
 p. 44. £d
 
 104 THE LIFE OF 
 
 you acquired no small applause, 1 have frequently 
 thought of our frolicsome rambles in vacation time, 
 and the merry dancings we had at Mother Red- 
 Cap's in Back- Lane ; the hurling matches we have 
 play'd at Dolphin's-barn, and the cakes and ale we 
 used to have at the Organ-house on Arbor-Hill. 
 These things have often occurred to my mind : but 
 little did I think we should ever meet again on 
 Stainmore-hills. What strange things does time 
 produce ! It has taken me from a town life to live on 
 the most solitary part of the globe: — and it has 
 brought you to journey where never man I believe 
 ever thought of travelling before." " So it is," I 
 replied, " and stranger things, dear Jack, may 
 happen yet before our eyes are closed : why I 
 journey this untravelled way, I will inform you by 
 and by ; when you have told me by what strange 
 means you came to dwell in this remote and silent 
 vale." " That you shall know," said he, " very 
 soon, as soon as we have eaten a morsel of some- 
 thing or other which my dear Martha has prepared 
 against my return. Here it comes, a fowl, bacon 
 and greens, and as fine I will answer as London 
 market could yield. Let us sit down, my friend, 
 and God bless us and our meat." 
 
 Down then we sat immediately to our dish, and 
 most excellent every thing was. The social good-
 
 JOIIX BUNGLE, ESQ. 105 
 
 ness of this fond couple added greatly to the plea- 
 sure of the meal, and with mirth and friendship we 
 eat up our capon, our bacon, and our greens. When 
 we had done, Price brought in pipes and tobacco, 
 and a fresh tankard of his admirable ale. ** Listen 
 now, said he, *' to my story, and then I will hearken 
 to yours. 
 
 " When I left you at Sheridan's school, my re- 
 move was from Ireland to Barbadoes, to become a 
 rich uncle's heir, and I got by my Indian airing a 
 hundred thousand pounds. There I left the bones 
 of my mother's brother, after I had lived two years 
 in that burning place, and from thence proceeded to 
 London, to spend what an honest, laborious man 
 had long toiled to save. But I had not been above 
 three months in the capital of England, when it 
 came into my head to pass sometime in France, and 
 with a girl I kept made haste to the French metro- 
 polis. There I lived at a grand rate, and took from 
 the French Opera-house another whore. The Gaul 
 and the Briton were both extreme fine girls, and 
 agreed so well together, that I kept them both in 
 one house. I thought myself superlatively happy in 
 having such a brace of females, and spared no cost 
 in procuring them all the finery and pleasures that 
 Paris and London could yield. I had a furnished 
 house in both these cities, and with an expensive
 
 106 THE LIFE OF 
 
 equipage went backwards and forwards. In four 
 years time I spent a great deal of money, and as I 
 had lost large sums at play, and these two whores 
 agreed in the end to rob me, and retire with the 
 money, where I should never discover them, I found 
 myself in very middling circumstances, and had not 
 six hundred pounds left in the fourth year from my 
 uncle's death. How to dispose of this and myself 
 was now the question. What I should do, was my 
 deliberation, to secure bread and quiet? Many a 
 thoughtful hour this gave me, and at length I deter- 
 mined to purchase a little annuity. But before this 
 could be effected, I went down to Westmoreland, on 
 an information I had received, that my two ladies 
 were at Appleby with other names, and on my money 
 appeared as women of fortune. But this journey 
 was to no purpose, and I was preparing to return to 
 London, when my wife you saw at the head of the 
 table a while ago, came by chance in my way, and 
 pleased me so well with her good understanding, 
 face and person, that I resolved to marry her, if she 
 would have me, and give her the management of my 
 five hundred pounds on a farm, as she was a farmer^s 
 daughter, and could manage one to good advantage. 
 Her father was lately dead, and this little mountain 
 farm she continued to occupy : therefore nothing 
 could be more to my purpose, if I could prevail on
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 107 
 
 her to make me her husband, and with some diffi- 
 culty she did, to my unspeakable felicity. She had 
 no money worth mentioning- : but her house was 
 pretty and comfortable, and her land had grain and 
 cattle ; and as I threw into her lap my five hundred 
 pounds, a little before we were married, to be by her 
 disposed of and managed, according to her pleasure, 
 she soon made some good improvements and addi- 
 tions, and by her fine understanding, sweet temper, 
 and every Christian virtue, continues to render my 
 life so completely happy; so joyous and delightful ; 
 that I would not change my partner and condition, 
 for one of the first quality and greatest fortune. In 
 her I have every thing I could wish for in a wife and 
 a woman, and she makes it the sole study and plea- 
 sure of her life to crown my every day with the 
 highest satisfactions and comforts. Two years have 
 I lived with her on these wild mountains, and in that 
 time I have not had one dull or painful minute, but 
 in thinking that I may lose her, and be the wretched 
 survivor. That thought does sometimes wound me. 
 In sum, my friend, we are the happiest of wedded 
 mortals, and on this small remote farm, live in a 
 state of bhss to be envied. This proves that happi- 
 ness does not flow from riches only : but, that where 
 pure, and perfect love, strict virtue, and unceasing 
 industry, are united in the conjugal state, they can
 
 108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 make the Stainmore mountains a Paradise to mortals 
 in peace and little. 
 
 ** But it is not only happiness in this world that I 
 have acquired by this admirable woman, but life 
 eternal. You remember, my friend, what a wild 
 and wicked one I was when a school-boy, and as 
 Barbadoes of all parts of the globe is no place to 
 improve a man's morals in, I returned from thence 
 to Europe as debauched a scelerate as ever offended 
 Heaven by blasphemy and illiberal gratifications. 
 Even my losses and approaching poverty were not 
 capable of making any great change in me. When I 
 was courting my wife, she soon discerned my impiety, 
 and perceived that I had very little notion of hell 
 and heaven, death and judgment. This she made 
 a principal objection against being concerned with 
 me, and told me, she could not venture into a mar- 
 ried connexion with a man, who had no regard to 
 the divine laws, and therefore, if she could not make 
 me a Christian, in the true sense of the word, she 
 would never be Mrs. Price. 
 
 " This from a plain country girl, surprised me 
 not a little, and my astonishment arose very high, 
 when I heard her talk of religion, and the great end 
 of both, a blessed life after this. She soon con- 
 vinced me that religion was the only means by 
 which we can arrive at true happiness, by which we
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 109 
 
 can attain to the last perfection and dignity of our 
 nature, and that the authority and word of God is 
 the surest foundation of religion. The substance of 
 what she said is as follows. I shall never forget 
 the lesson. 
 
 *' The plain declarations of our Master in the 
 Gospel restore the dictates of uncorrupted reason to 
 their force and authority, and give us just notions of 
 God and of ourselves. They instruct us in the 
 nature of the Deity, discover to us his unity, holi- 
 ness, and purity, and aflPord certain means of ob- 
 taining eternal life. Revelation commands us to 
 worship one Supreme God, the Supreme Father of 
 all things ; and to do his will, by imitating his per- 
 fections, and practising every thing recommended 
 by that law of reason, which he sent the Messiah to 
 revive and enforce : that by repentance, and right- 
 eousness, and acts of devotion, we may obtain the 
 divine favour, and share in the glories of futurity ; 
 for, the Supreme Director, whose goodness gives 
 counsel to his power, commanded us into existence 
 to conduct us to everlasting happiness, and there- 
 fore teaches us by his Son to pray, to praise, and to 
 repent, that we may be entitled to a nobler inheri- 
 tance than this world knows, and obtain life and 
 immortality, and all the joys and blessings of the 
 heavenly Canaan. This was the godlike design of
 
 110 THE LIFE OF 
 
 our Creator. That superior agent, who acts not by 
 arbitrary will, but by the maxims of unclouded 
 reason, when he made us and stationed us 
 in this part of his creation, had no glory of 
 his own in view, but what was perfectly consis- 
 tent with a just regard to the felicity of his rational 
 subjects. 
 
 " It was this made the apostle shew Felix the 
 unalterable obligations to justice and equity; to 
 temperance, or a command over the appetites ; and 
 then, by displaying the great and awful judgment 
 to come, urge him to the practice of these, and all 
 the other branches of morality ; that by using the 
 means prescribed by God, and acting up to the con- 
 ditions of salvation, he might escape that dreadful 
 punishment, which in the reason and nature of 
 things, is connected with vice, and which the good 
 government of the rational world requires should be 
 inflicted on the wicked; and might on the contrary 
 by that mercy offered to the world through Jesus 
 Christ, secure those immense rewards, which are pro- 
 mised to innocence and the testimony of an upright 
 heart. This faith in Christ, St. Paul placed before 
 the Roman governor in the best light. He described 
 the complexion and genius of the Christian faith. 
 He represented it as revealing the wrath of God 
 against all immorality ; and as joining with reason
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. Ill 
 
 and uncorrupted nature, enforcing the practice of 
 every moral and social duty. 
 
 " What effect this discourse had on Felix," con- 
 tinued Martha, '^ in producing faith, that is, mo- 
 rality in an intelligent agent, we are told by the 
 apostle. He trembled : but iniquity and the world 
 had taken such a hold of him, that he dismissed the 
 subject, and turned from a present uneasiness to 
 profit and the enjoyment of sin. He had done with 
 St. Paul, and sacrificed the hopes of eternity to the 
 world and its delights. 
 
 " But this," concluded Martha, " will not I 
 hope be your case. As a judgment to come is an 
 awful subject, you will ponder in time, and look 
 into your own mind. As a man, a reasonable and 
 social creature, designed for duty to a God above 
 you, and to a world of fellow -creatures around you, 
 you will consider the rules of virtue and morality, 
 and be no long-er numbered with those miserable 
 mortals, who are doomed to condemnation upon 
 their disobedience. Those rules lie open in a per- 
 fect gospel, and the wicked can have nothing to 
 plead for their behaviour. They want no light to 
 direct them. They want no assistance to support 
 them in doing their duty. They have a gospel to 
 bring them to life and salvation, i^ they will but 
 take notice of it ; and if they will not walk in the
 
 11*2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 light of God's law, this gospel must be their judg- 
 ment and condemnation." 
 
 *' Say then, Sir," Martha proceeded, " can you 
 be prevailed on to think of religion in its native 
 purity and simplicity, and by the power of the gos- 
 pel, to act with regard to virtue and piety, that 
 when Christ shall come not only in the power, but 
 in the wisdom and the justice of God, to judge the 
 world, you may be secured from that misery and 
 distress, which is prepared for iniquity ; and enjoy 
 that eternal life, which is to be the portion of the 
 righteous ?" 
 
 " In this extraordinary manner did Martha 
 Harrington discourse me, and the effect of it was 
 that I began a thorough reform from that liour. My 
 rational life from that happy day commenced, and 
 I entered seriously into my own breast, to think in 
 earnest of that solemn judgment to come. What 
 Martha said was so clear and strong, that I had 
 not a thought of replying, but truth at once entirely 
 subdued my heart, and I flew to the Son of God, to 
 request his intercession with the Father of the 
 Universe for the pardon of all my crimes. The 
 dignity and end of my being has since been the 
 subject of my meditations, and I live convinced, 
 that every thing is contemptible that is inconsistent 
 with duty and morality. This renders even my
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 113 
 
 pleasures more agreeable. This gives eternal peace 
 to my mind." 
 
 Here Price ended his remarkable story, and 
 according to our agreement, I began to relate what 
 happened to me from the time we parted at school, 
 and concluded with informing him, that I was going 
 in search of Charles Turner, my near friend, 
 when fortune brought me to his house : that this 
 gentleman lived somewhere towards the confines of 
 Cumberland and the North Riding of Yorkshire, but 
 where the spot was 1 could not tell, nor did I know 
 well how to go on, as the country before me seemed 
 impassable, on account of its mountains, precipices, 
 and floods, " I must try however what can be 
 done ; not only in regard to this gentleman ; but, 
 because I have reason to think it may be very much 
 to my advantage, as he is very rich, and the most 
 generous of men. If he is to be found, I know I 
 shall be welcome to share in his happiness as long 
 as I please, nor will it be any weight to him.'* 
 Price to this replied, that I was most heartily wel- 
 come to him as long as I pleased to stay, and that 
 though h€ was far from being a rich man, yet he had 
 every day enough for himself and one more; and 
 his Martha he was sure would be as well pleased 
 with my company, as if I had been his own brother, 
 since she knew I was his esteemed friend. In 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE LIFE OF 
 
 respect of the way, he said, he would enable me to 
 find Mr. Turner, if he could, but the country was 
 difficult to travel, and he doubted very much if one 
 could go to the extremity of Cumberland or York- 
 shire over the hills ; but we would try however, and 
 if it was possible, find out Mr. Turner's house. 
 Yet solely with him I must not stay, if he could be 
 seen. I must live between both, till I got some 
 northern girl, and had a wife and habitation of my 
 own : '* and there is," continued Price, " not many 
 miles from me, a sweet pretty lass, the daughter of 
 a gentleman farmer, who is a very good man, and 
 would, I believe, upon my recommendation, give 
 you his girl and a sum of money, to sit down on 
 those hills." " This is vastly kind, Jack," said I, 
 *• and what I shall gratefully remember so long as 
 I live. I may ride many a mile I am sure, and be 
 an adventurer many a long day, before I meet with 
 such offers again. Your sweetly situated house and 
 good things, with a fine northern girl and money 
 down, are benefits not to be met with every day. 
 But at present the object I must pursue is my 
 university friend, Charles Turner, and if you 
 please to do me the great favour of guiding me so 
 far as you can over this wild, uninhabited land, after 
 I have staid with you for the first time, two or three 
 days, and promise to abide many more hereafter, if
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 115 
 
 it be in my power, we will set out in quest of what 
 I want." ** As you will," my friend Price replied, 
 " and for the present let us be gay. Here comes 
 my beloved with a little bowl of punch, and as she 
 sings extremely well, and you have not forgot I 
 fancy our old song, we will have it over our nectar. 
 You shall represent Janus and Momus, and I will 
 be Chronos and Mars, and my wife Diana and 
 Venus. Let us take a glass first — * The Liber- 
 ties OF THE World,' and then do you begin." We 
 drank, and in the following manner I went on. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 JANUS. 
 
 Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace, 
 A hundred times the rolling sun. 
 Around the radiant belt has run. 
 
 In his revolving race. 
 Behold, behold, the goal in sight. 
 Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. 
 
 CHRONOS. 
 
 Wear}% weary of my weight, 
 Let me, let me drop my freight. 
 And leave the world behind. 
 
 I could not bear 
 
 Another year 
 The load of human kind-
 
 116 THE LIFE OF 
 
 MOMUS. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha 1 well hast thou done. 
 
 To lay down thy pack, 
 
 And lighten thy back. 
 The world was a fool, e'er since it begun. 
 And since neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I, 
 
 Can hinder the crimes. 
 
 Or mend the bad times, 
 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. 
 
 JANUS. 
 
 Since Momus comes to laugh below. 
 
 Old Time begin the show ! 
 That he may see, in every scene. 
 What changes in this age have been ; 
 
 CHRONOS. 
 
 Then goddess of the silver bow begin ! 
 
 DIANA. 
 
 With horns and with hounds I waken the day. 
 And hye to my woodland walks away ; 
 I tuck up my robe, and am buskin'd soon. 
 And tye to my forehead a wexing moon ; 
 I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox. 
 And chase the wild goats o'er summits of rocks.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 117 
 
 With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky : 
 And echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky. 
 And echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. 
 
 JANUS. 
 
 Then our age was in its prime, 
 
 CHRONUS. 
 
 Free from rage, 
 
 DIANA. 
 
 — — And free from crime. 
 
 MOMUS. 
 
 A very merry, dancing, drinking. 
 Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then our age was in its prime. 
 Free from rage, and free from crime. 
 A very merry, dancing, drinking. 
 Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. 
 
 MARS. 
 
 Inspire the vocal brass, inspire ; 
 The world is past its infant age : 
 
 Arms and honour. 
 
 Arms and honour. 
 Set the martial mind on fire. 
 And kindle manly rage.
 
 lis THE LIFE or 
 
 Mars has look\l the sky to red ; 
 And peace, the lazy good, is fled. 
 Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly ; 
 
 The sprightly green 
 In Woodland walks, no more is seen ; 
 The sprightly green has drank the Tyrian dye. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly; 
 
 The sprightly green 
 In Woodland walks, no more is seenj 
 The sprightly green has drank the Tyrian dye. 
 
 MARS. 
 
 Sound the trumpet, beat the drum. 
 Through all the world around ; 
 Sound a reveille, sound, sound. 
 The warrior God is come. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Sound the trumpet, beat the drum. 
 Through all the world around ; 
 Sound a reveille, sound, sound. 
 The warrior God is come. 
 
 MOMUS. 
 
 Thy sword within the scabbard keep. 
 
 And let mankind agree ; 
 Better the world were fast asleep. 
 
 Than kept awake by thee.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 119 
 
 The fools are only thinner. 
 With all our cost and care; 
 
 But neither side a winner. 
 For things are as they were. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The fools are only thinner. 
 
 With all our cost and care ; 
 But neither side a winner. 
 
 For thing's are as they were. 
 
 Calms appear, when storms are past^ 
 Love mil have its hour at last : 
 Nature is my kindly care ; 
 Mars destroys, and I repair ; 
 Take me, take me, while you may, 
 Venus comes not ev'ry day. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Take her, take her, while you may, 
 Venus comes not ev'ry day. 
 
 CHRONOS. 
 
 The world was then so light, 
 
 I scarcely felt the weight; 
 
 Joy rul'd the day, and love the night. 
 
 But since the queen of pleasure left the ground, 
 
 I faint, I lag. 
 
 And feebly drag 
 The pond'rous orb around.
 
 120 THE LIFE OF 
 
 RiOMUS, pointing to Diana. 
 
 All, all, of a piece throughout j 
 The chace had a beast in view ; 
 
 DIANA, to Mars. 
 Thy wars brought nothing about y 
 
 MARS, to Venus. 
 Thy lovers were all untrue, 
 
 VENUS, to Janus. 
 
 'Tis well an old age is out. 
 And time to begin a new. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 All, all, of a piece throughout ; 
 Thy chace had a beast in view; 
 Thy wars brought nothing about 5 
 Thy lovers were all untrue : 
 'Tis well an old age is out. 
 And time to begin a new. 
 
 In this happy manner did we pass the night in 
 this wild and frightful part of the world, and for 
 three succeeding evenings and days, enjoyed as 
 much true satisfaction as it was possible for mortals 
 to feel. Price was an ingenious, cheerful, enter- 
 taining man, and his wife had not only sense more 
 than ordinary, but was one of the best of women. 
 J was prodigiously pleased with her conversation.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 121 
 
 Thougli she was no woman of letters, nor had any 
 books in her house except the Bible, Barrow's and 
 Whichcot's Sermons, Howell's History of the World, 
 and the History of England, yet from these few, a 
 great memory, and an extraordinary conception of 
 things, had collected a valuable knowledge, and 
 she talked with an ease and perspicuity that was 
 wonderful. On religious subjects she astonished 
 me. 
 
 As Sunday was one of the daies I staid there, 
 and Price was obliged in the afternoon to be from 
 home, I passed it in conversation with his wife. 
 The day introduced religion, and among other things 
 I asked her, which she thought the best evidences 
 of Christianity ? The prophecies or the miracles ? 
 
 '' Neither," Mrs. Price replied. " The prophe- 
 cies of the Messiah recorded in the Old Testament, 
 are a good proof of the Christian religion, as it is 
 plain from many instances in the New Testament, 
 that the Jewish converts of that generation under- 
 stood them to relate to our Lord ; w^hich is a suffi- 
 cient reason for our believing them. Since they 
 knew the true intent and meaning of them, and on 
 account of their knowing it, were converted ; the 
 prophecies for this reason should by us be regarded 
 as divine testimony in favour of Christ Jesus. Then 
 as to miracles, they are to be sure a means of prov-
 
 122 THE LIFE OP 
 
 ing and spreading the Christian religion, as they 
 shew the divine mission of the Messiah, and rouse 
 the mind to attend to the power by which these 
 mighty works were wrought. Thus miracle and 
 prophecy shew the teacher came from God. They 
 contribute to the establishment of his kingdom, and 
 have a tendency to produce that faith which puri- 
 fies the heart, and brings forth the new birth. 
 
 *' But the greater evidence for the truth of our 
 holy religion, appears to me to be that which con- 
 verted the primitive Christians, to wit, the powerful 
 influence which the gospel has on the minds of those 
 who study it with sincerity, and the inward disco- 
 veries Christ makes to the understanding of the 
 faithful by his light and good spirit. This exceeds 
 the other evidences, if the heart be honest. The 
 gospel is irresistible, when the spirit of God moves 
 upon the minds of Christians. When the divine 
 power, dispensed through Christ, assists and 
 strengthens us to do good, and to eschew evil, then 
 Christianity appears a religion worthy of God, and 
 in itself the most reasonable. The complete salva- 
 tion deserves our ready acceptation. That religion 
 must charm a reasonable world, which not only 
 restores the worship of the one true God, and ex- 
 hibits, in a perfect plan, those rules of moral recti- 
 tude, whereby the conduct of men should be go-
 
 JOHX BUNCLE, ESQ. 123 
 
 verned, and their future happiness secured ; but, by 
 its blessed spirit, informs our judgments, influences 
 our wills, rectifies and subdues our passions, turns 
 the bias of our minds from the objects and pleasures 
 of sense, and fixes them upon the supreme good. 
 Most glorious surely is such a gospel." 
 
 " But does not this operation' of the spirit," 
 said I, " which you make the principal evidence for 
 Christianity, debase human nature, and make man 
 too weak, too helpless and depending a being ? If 
 voluntary good agency depends on supernatural 
 influence and enlivening aid, does not this make us 
 mere patients, and if we are not moral agents, that 
 is, have not a power of chusing or refusing, of 
 doing or avoiding, either good or evil, can there be 
 any human virtue ? Can we in such case approve 
 or disapprove curselves to God. To me it seems 
 that man was created to perform things natural, 
 rational, and spiritual, and has an ability to act 
 within the reach of his agency, as his duty requires. 
 I think the moral fitness of things is a rule of action 
 to conduct our actions by, and that the great ad- 
 vantage of revelation consists in its heavenly moral 
 lessons, and the certainty of that future judgment 
 and retribution, which has a powerful influence 
 upon a rational mind, and strongly inclines a rea- 
 sonable being to save his soul, by so acting in this
 
 1^4 THE LIFE or 
 
 world as to avoid everlasting misery, and ensure the 
 favor of God, and eternal happiness in another 
 world. This appears to me more consistent with 
 the nature and the truth of things. It is more to 
 the honour of human nature, if I mistake not, and 
 gives more glory to God." 
 
 To this Mrs. Price answered, that " as she 
 was sensible of the shortness of her own under- 
 standing, and believed the faculties of the human 
 mind in general were weak and deficient, she could 
 not see any thing unreasonable in supposing the 
 thing formed depended on, and was subject to the 
 Creator that made it. It cannot be absurd, surely, 
 to say, that so weak and helpless a being as man, 
 depends entirely on God. Where in the nature of 
 things can we fix a standard of certainty in under- 
 standing, and stability in practice, but in the foun- 
 tain of truth, and all perfection ? 
 
 *' But to our better comprehending this matter, 
 let us take a view of primitive Christian religion. 
 Christianity is a divine institution, by which God 
 declares himself reconciled to mankind for the sake 
 of his beloved son, the Lord Jesus Christ, on condi- 
 tion of repentance, amendment of life, and perseve- 
 rance in a state of holiness; and that we might be 
 able to perform the things required of us, he offers 
 the assistance of his good spirit. This last offer, in
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 125 
 
 a proper sense, is salvation ; * for according to his 
 mercy, he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, 
 and the renewing of the Holy Ghost. By grace are 
 ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves ; 
 it is the gift of God.' We find, then, that there are 
 two parts in the Christian religion : one, external 
 and historical; the other, internal and experimental. 
 The first comprehends what is no more to be re- 
 peated, though the effects are lasting and perma- 
 nent, to wit, the life and good works of Jesus, his 
 miracles, death, and resurrection ; which declare 
 him spotless virtue, perfect obedience, and the son 
 of God with power. And in the second part, we 
 have that standing experience of a divine help, 
 which converts and supports a spiritual life. Tt is 
 true, both the parts have a near relation, and in 
 conjunction produce the good ends of religion. The 
 second is the effect of the first. Redemption from 
 the power of sin, sanctification, and justification, 
 are blessings wrought in us by the good spirit of 
 him, who without us did many glorious things, that 
 he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
 unto himself a peculiar people zealous of good 
 works ; and that they who live should not hence- 
 forth live unto themselves, but unto him that died 
 for them and rose again. But it is in the second 
 part that the excellence of our holy religion con-
 
 1^6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sists. We have no ability of ourselves to take off 
 our minds from the things that are evil, and enga§fe 
 them in the work of rehgion and godliness. This is 
 the gift of God. It is a continued miracle that 
 cleanses that polluted fountain, the heart, and 
 therefore I call this experience the principal evi- 
 dence of the Christian religion. It is the glory of 
 Christianity, and renders it the perfection of all re- 
 ligions." 
 
 '* That Christianity," I replied, " is the perfec- 
 tion of all religions, is granted; but that we have 
 no ability to save our souls without a supernatural 
 operation on them, this is what I have still some 
 doubt of. A careful examination of the subject, 
 produces some hard objections, and therefore, 
 madam, 1 will lay my diflSculties before you, that 
 your fine natural understanding may remove them, 
 if it be possible. I will be short on the article, for 
 many words would only darken it. 
 
 «* In the first place, then, as to man's inability to 
 live a religious life, and practice the precepts of the 
 gospel, it must be the effect of the human composi- 
 tion, or the effect of the agency of the serpent. If 
 the former, it is chargeable upon the author of the 
 composition ;■ if the latter, upon the agent which 
 acts upon it. Man could not be culpable, I think, 
 for a bad life, in either case. If my nature be
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 127 
 
 weakness itself, or the serpent is superior to me, 
 what good can be required of me? Can the su- 
 preme reason call for brick, where there are no ma- 
 terials to make it with? will you say yes, because 
 he gives supernatural ability to perform ? But 
 then, can this be called man's action ? It is the 
 action of the author by his miserable creature, man ; 
 and in such case, may we not say, that though 
 commands are given to man to obey revealed laws, 
 yet the obedience is performed by God ? 
 
 " In the next place, as man in his natural capa- 
 city, and all his natural powers, are the work of 
 God, and as truly derived from him as any super- 
 natural powers can be, it follows, I imagine, that a 
 voluntary agent's making a right use of the powers 
 of his nature, is as valuable as his being compelled 
 to act well and wisely by a supernatural power. To 
 assert, then, such experiences or operations, to me 
 seems to misrepresent the nature of a being excel- 
 lently constituted to answer the good purposes he 
 was created for. I am likewise, at present, of opi- 
 nion, that depreciating our natural abilities, does 
 not give so much glory to God as you imagine." 
 
 To this Mrs. Price replied, *' that by the ope- 
 ration of the spirit, she did not mean that man was 
 purely passive, and had no part in the working out 
 his salvation^ but that God co-operates with man,
 
 128 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and without destroying the faculty of reason, im- 
 proves it by convincing and enlightening the under- 
 standing, and by moving and inclining the will 
 towards such objects as are acceptable to himself, 
 and from those that are contrary to his gospel. The 
 mind in this manner enlightened and affected, be- 
 gins to act, and as the spirit moves upon the soul, 
 the quickened man, under the divine direction, 
 does all the good the scripture commands him to do, 
 and eschews the evil he is ordered to avoid. By 
 God through Christ, he practises the excellent vir- 
 tues recommended in the holy books, and for this 
 reason, the righteousness which Christians bring 
 forth, is called in scripture the righteousness of 
 Christ, the righteousness of God, and the righteous- 
 ness of faith. Christ is the efficient. We, through 
 him, are made able to act. Notwithstanding the 
 weakness and incapacity of our nature, yet through 
 faith in the power of God, which is given to all who 
 believe in him, we are enabled to flee immorality 
 and vice, and by a life of virtue and piety, to enjoy 
 the pleasure of a sweet reflection, and the praises of 
 unpolluted reason. 
 
 That this is the case of man, the sacred writings 
 declare in a thousand places, and set forth the ex- 
 ceeding greatness of God's power in this respect. 
 The ministry of the gospel appears to have been
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 199 
 
 ordained for this end, and the perfection of the chris- 
 tian religion to rest on this particular thing. ' The 
 Lord died for our sins, and rose again for our justi- 
 fication, that we, through the power of his resurrec- 
 tion, might be made righteous.' And the apostle 
 adds, ' I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, 
 for it is the power of God unto salvation, to every 
 one that believeth, to the Jew first, and also to the 
 Greek, for therein is the righteousness of God re- 
 vealed from faith to faith.' And4:hatthe promise 
 of the Holy Ghost had reference not only to the 
 great effusion of the spirit at Pentecost, which was 
 a solemn confirmation of the new and spiritual dis- 
 pensation of the gospel ; but also to that instruction 
 which Christians of every age were to receive from 
 it continually, if they attended to it, is evident from 
 the promise of Christ, I will pray the Father, and 
 he shall give you another comforter, (the spirit of 
 truth) that he may abide with you for ever.' Thi^ 
 spirit was to supply the place of his persona\ 
 presence. It was to become a teacher and com- 
 forter to his disciples and followers to the end of 
 time, to enlighten and incline their minds to piety 
 and virtue, to enable them to do all things apper- 
 taining to life and to godliness, and to have a faith 
 in God's power and all-sufficiency. This is the 
 glorious specific difference of Christianity from all 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE LITE OF 
 
 Other religions. We have an inward instructor and 
 supporter always abiding with us. And what can 
 be a higher honor to mankind, or an act of greater 
 love in God, than for him to interpose continually, 
 and by his holy spirit restore the teachable and at- 
 tentive to that purity and uprightness in which he 
 at first created man ? Glorious dispensation! Here 
 is a complete reparation of the loss sustained by 
 transgression. We are created anew in Christ 
 Jesus, and are made partakers of the divine nature. 
 Surely this is the utmost that can be expected from 
 rehgion. In short," continued Mrs. Price, '^ it is to 
 me a most amazing thing, to see men of sense dis- 
 claim this help, argue for self-sufficiency and inde- 
 pendency, and receive only the outward appearance 
 of the son of God, in a literal, historical, and formal 
 profession of Christianity! This will never do the 
 work. The outward appearance of the Son of 
 God only puts us in a capacity of salvation ; it is 
 the inward appearance by the power and virtue of 
 the spirit that must save us. The end of the gospel 
 is repentance, forgiveness of sins, and amendment 
 of manners ; and the means of obtaining that end, 
 is Christianity in the life, spirit, and power of it." 
 
 *' You talk extremely well, madam," said I, 
 '* upon this subject, and have almost made me a 
 convert to the notion of an inward appearance of
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 131 
 
 the Son of God ; but I must beg leave to observe to 
 you, that as to what you have added, by way of ex- 
 plication and vindication of the operation of the 
 spirit, to wit, that man has agency, and God co- 
 operates with it, by which means the man is enabled 
 to apply his agency to the performance of good ; 
 this does not seem to me to make the matter quite 
 plain. The virtue or goodness of an agent must 
 certainly arise from a right exercise of his own 
 power, and how then can God's co-operating with 
 him make him a better man 't Can such co-opera- 
 tion add any thing to my virtue, if my goodness is 
 to be rated in proportion to the exertion of my own 
 will and agency ? If I am not able to save a man from 
 drowning, though I pity him, and do my best to pre- 
 serve his life ; but God gives me strength, or co-ope- 
 rates with me, and so the man is saved ; can this add 
 any thing to my virtue or goodness ? It would be 
 indeed an instance of God's goodness to the man ; 
 but as to myself, I did no more with the divine co- 
 operation than I did without it. I made all the use 
 I could of what power I had. This seems to me a 
 strong objection against the inward appearance : 
 nor is it all there is to object. If 1 see a man in a 
 deep wet ditch, in a dangerous and miserable way, 
 and am prompted by a natural affection, and the 
 fitness of relieving, to exert a sufficient strength I
 
 1S2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 have, to take the man out of his distress, and put 
 him in a comfortable way, which is a thing I really 
 did once, and thereby saved a useful life ; in this 
 case there was good done by an agent, without any 
 supernatural co-operation at all. Many more in- 
 stances might be produced ; but from what has been 
 said, is it not plain that much good may be done 
 without any interposition ; and, with it, that no 
 good can be added to the character of the agent ? 
 
 *' But you will say, perhaps, that the good dis- 
 position of the agent in such cases, is supernatural 
 operation, and without such operation, he could not 
 make a right use of his ability. To this we reply, 
 that if by disposition is meant a given power to dis- 
 tinguish betwixt motive and motive, and so to judge 
 of moral fitness and unfitness ; or, a power to act 
 from right motives, when such are present to the 
 mind; these cannot be given, because they are the 
 powers which constitute a man a moral agent, and 
 render him accountable for his actions. Without 
 them he could not be a subject of moral govern- 
 ment. 
 
 " And if you mean by the term disposition, 
 God's presenting such motives to the mind, as are 
 necessary to excite to right action ; the answer is, 
 that though God may kindly interpose, and in many 
 instances, by supernatural operation, present such
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 133 
 
 motives to the mind, yet such operation cannot be 
 always necessary, in order to our doing good. In 
 many cases we see at once what good ought to be 
 done, and we do it instantly of ourselves, unless the 
 natural faculties be perverted by false principles. 
 If our fellow-creature falls into the fire, or has a fit, 
 while we are near him, the fitness of relieving him, 
 and the natural compassion essential to our consti- 
 tution, will make us fly to his assistance, without a 
 supernatural operation. We want no divine im- 
 pulse to make us interpose. Without being re- 
 minded, we will do our best to recover the man, if 
 superstition or passion hath not misled the natural 
 powers of the mind. In a great variety of things, 
 the case is the same, and when at a glance we see 
 the fitness of action, there is an immediate produc- 
 tion of good. 
 
 " It is not just, then, to assert that the heart can- 
 not be the spring of good actions, without the act- 
 ings of God. It is the seat and source of both evil 
 and good. Man is capable of giving glory to God, 
 and of doing the contrary. He is constituted to 
 answer all the purposes of social felicity, and to act 
 a part suitable to, and becoming that reason and 
 understanding, which God hath given him to guide 
 his steps ; and he may, on the contrary, by abusing 
 his liberty, act an unsocial part in the creation, and
 
 134 THE LIFE OF 
 
 do great dishonour to his Maker, by the evil ima- 
 ginations of his heart, and the violence his hand 
 commits. This hath been the state of human na- 
 ture from the fall to the flood, and from the flood to 
 our time. The human race have a natural ability 
 for good or evil, and are at liberty for the choice of 
 either of these. * If thou doest well, Cain, who has 
 power, and is at liberty to do evil; thou shalt be ac- 
 cepted ; and if thou doest not well, who hast power, 
 and is at liberty to do good, sin lieth at the door. 
 If this had not been the case of Cain, and of others 
 since his days, it seems to me, at present, that God 
 would act an unequal part with his creatures. Can 
 happiness or misery be called reward or punish- 
 ment, unless the creature can voluntarily choose or 
 avoid the thing which renders him the object of in- 
 fliction or glory ? I think not, * For we must all 
 appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that every 
 one may receive the things done in his body, ac- 
 cording to that he hath done, whether it be good or 
 bad.' The agency of a serpent will be no plea then, 
 for a Cain, I suppose : nor will Abel's title to an 
 inheritance depend only on the good brought forth 
 in him by the Lord. And as to a self-sufficiency or 
 independency in all this, as often charged, I can see 
 none, for the reason already given, to wit, that my 
 natural powers are as much the gift of God to me
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 135 
 
 as supernatural powers can be, and render me as 
 dependent a being. They are derived from him : 
 It is his given powers I use, and if I make a right 
 use of them, to answer the great and wise purpose I 
 was created for, the good application must be as 
 valuable as if I had applied supernatural powers to 
 the same purpose." 
 
 " What you say, sir," answered Mrs. Price, 
 " has reason in it, to be sure : but it seems incon- 
 sistent with the language of the Bible, and takes away 
 the grace of God entirely, and the principal evidence 
 of the Christian religion : As to the necessary guilt 
 of mankind, Moses says, ' and God saw, that the 
 wickednesses of man was great in the earth ; and that 
 every imagination of the thoughts of his heart, was 
 only evil continually : and it repented the Lord, that 
 he had made man on the earth, &c.' And again ; 
 * The earth also was corrupt before God, and the 
 earth was filled with violence : and God looked upon 
 the earth, and behold it was corrupt, for all flesh had 
 corrupted his way on the earth. And God said 
 unto Noah, the end of all flesh is come before me, 
 for the earth is filled with violence through them ; 
 and behold, I will destroy them with the earth. But 
 Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.' The 
 prophet Jeremiah does likewise affirm, * The heart
 
 136 THE LIFE OF 
 
 is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked/ 
 And St. Paul declares from Psalm 14 and 53, 
 * There is none righteous, no not one ; there is none 
 thatunderstandeth, there is none that seeketh after 
 God. They are all gone out of the way, they are 
 altogether become unprofitable ; there is none that 
 doth good, no not one. Their throat is an open 
 sepulchre ; with their tongues have they used de- 
 ceit; the poison of asps is under their lips : whose 
 mouth is full of cursing and bitterness. Their feet 
 are swift to shed blood. Destruction and misery 
 are in their ways. And the way of peace have they 
 not known.' 
 
 " Then as to grace, or the operation of the Spirit, 
 to cure this miserable condition of mankind, Peter 
 said unto them, ' Repent, and be baptized every one 
 of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remis- 
 sion of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy 
 Ghost, for the promise is unto you and your chil- 
 dren, and to all that are afar off.' This is a very 
 extensive declaration both as to time and place. 
 After Peter had told the people, * the God of our 
 fathers raised up Jesus whom he slew, and hanged 
 on a tree, him hath God exalted with his right hand, 
 to be a prince and a saviour, for to give repentance 
 unto Israel, and forgiveness of sins, and we are his
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 137 
 
 witnesses of these things, and so also is the 
 Holy Ghost, whom God hath given to them 
 that obey him,' the apostle adds, then they 
 (the Gentiles) were filled with the Holy Ghost/ 
 All who obeyed, without distinction, had the 
 Holy Ghost given them, and it was a witness to 
 them of the truth of Christ's divine mission, and 
 the good effects of it, according to the promise of 
 the Lord, to wit, * he shall testify of me.' 
 
 " St. Paul likewise tells us, * if any man have not 
 the spirit of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ 
 be in you, the body is dead because of sin, but the 
 spirit is life, because of righteousness; but if the 
 spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead, 
 dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead, 
 shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his spirit 
 that dwelleth in you. Therefore brethren, we are 
 debtors, not to the flesh to live after the flesh, for if 
 ye live after the flesh ye shall die; but if ye through 
 the spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall 
 live. For as many as are led by the spirit of God, 
 they are the sons of God. For ye have not received 
 the spirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have 
 received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry 
 Abba Father, the spirit itself beareth witness with 
 our spirit, that we are the children of God.' Here 
 we see the necessity of having the spirit of Christ,
 
 138 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and that those who have it not, do not belong to 
 him. They are none of his. We may likewise ob- 
 serve, that it mortifies the deeds of the body, and 
 quickens the soul to a life of holiness ; the passage 
 likewise shews, that the spirit bears witness with 
 our spirits, and by an evidence peculiar to itself, 
 gives us a certain sense, or understanding of it. 
 
 " In short, sir, a great number of texts might be 
 produced, to show not only the work and effect of 
 the divine spirit upon our minds ; but that, it is an 
 evidence, the principal evidence and ground of cer- 
 tainty to believers, respecting the truth of Christi- 
 anity. I will mention however only two or three 
 more, and then shall be glad to hear what you say 
 to those things. 
 
 ' What man knoweth the spirit of man, save the 
 spirit of man which is in him ? even so the things of 
 God knoweth no man, but the spirit of God. Now 
 we have received not the spirit of the world, but the 
 spirit which is of God, that we might know the things 
 which are freely given to us of God. Ye have an 
 unction from the Holy one, and ye know all things. 
 These things I have written to you, concerning them 
 that seduce you ; but the anointing which ye have 
 received of him, abideth in you, and ye need not 
 that any teach you, but as the same anointing 
 teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 139 
 
 lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in 
 it. Hereby we know that he abideth in us by his 
 spirit, which he hath given us. Hereby we know 
 that we dwell in him, and he in us, because he hath 
 given us of his spirit.' 
 
 '* What do you say to all this ? do not the sa- 
 cred passages I have repeated seem to declare in the 
 plainest manner the necessary iniquity of man ; that 
 this is to be cured only, and his nature rectified by 
 the operation of the divine spirit; and that the 
 eflPusion of the spirit, both as to instruction and 
 evidence, was not peculiar to the infancy of Christi- 
 anity? This appears to my understanding. The 
 fery essence of the Christian religion I think from 
 these scriptures consists in the power and efficacy of 
 the spiritual principle." 
 
 '* What you have said, madam," I rephed, " seems 
 strong: indeed in defence of the weakness of man, 
 and the operation of the spirit, and I should be of 
 your way of thinking as to the manifestation of it, 
 but that I imagine the thing may be explained in a 
 different manner. Let us review our religion, if you 
 please, and perhaps we may find, that another ac- 
 count may be given of sanctification, and the renew- 
 ing the mind into a state of holiness. 
 
 *' When God called this world into being, his 
 purpose was without all peradventure, that his ra- 
 tional creatures might enjoy the noblest pleasures.
 
 140 THE LIFE or 
 
 and by conforming their conduct to the fitness and 
 relation of things, from a due regard to the authority 
 of the first cause, by whom this fitness and relation 
 were wisely constituted, secure all the blessings of 
 this life, and honour, and glory, and immortality, in 
 some future state of existence. This I think was 
 the case. True religion was to form and fix every 
 good principle in the human mind, produce all 
 righteousness in the conversation, and thereby ren- 
 der mankind the blessed of the universal Father. 
 They were to worship the one true God ; the pos- 
 sessor of all being, and the fountain of all good ; to 
 believe on him, and have their trust and depend- 
 ence always on him ; to be pure and peaceable, 
 gentle and full of mercy, without partiality, without 
 hypocrisy, and so devoted to holiness and obe- 
 dience, to every virtue and every good work which 
 the law of reason can require from men ; that after 
 a long life spent in acting a part the most honour- 
 able to God, and the most advantageous to mankind, 
 in obeying the dictates of reason, and thereby imi- 
 tating the example of God ; they might be trans- 
 lated to the regions of immortality, where the first 
 and great Original displays as it were face to face 
 the perfections of the Deity, and from an all-perfect 
 and holy being receive the vast rewards he has pre- 
 pared for those, who, in this first state, have been to 
 all the purposes of life and religion, perfect as he is
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 141 
 
 perfect. For these reasons did the supreme director, 
 the greatest and the best Being in the universe, 
 command the human race into existence. He gave 
 them faculties to conduct them here through various 
 scenes of happiness to the realms of immortality and 
 immutable felicity. It was a Godlike design ! 
 
 *' But it was not very long before this human race 
 became corrupt, and not only did evil in the sight of 
 the Lord, but ceased to apprehend the first cause as 
 one most perfect mind. The natural notions of 
 moral perfection which reason and the light of nature 
 supply, they no longer minded, nor thought of what 
 is fit and reasonable to be done in every case. The 
 passions began to influence and direct their lives : 
 just and pure ideas of ihe Deity were lost, false ones 
 took place, and the mischief and its fatal conse- 
 quences became very great. It was a melancholy 
 scene ! The exalted notions of one glorious God, and 
 of that true religion which subsists in the expecta- 
 tion of a future state, were no longer known, nor 
 did the race ever think of approving themselves in 
 the eye of an all perfect and holy being. Supersti- 
 tion and iniquity prevailed, and the spread of evil 
 was wide. 
 
 " God saw that the wickedness of man was great 
 in the earth," the thoughts of his heart evil conti- 
 nually, &c. as you have before quoted from the book
 
 142 THK LIFE OF 
 
 of Genesis ; and because the wickedness of the tenth 
 generation was so great, and men no longer endea- 
 voured after those perfections, which are natural 
 and proper to rational minds; no longer thought_ 
 of conforming themselves to the divine nature, or 
 strove to imitate the excellencies of it, though con- 
 stituted to give glory to their Maker, and endued 
 with a reason and understanding suflQcient to teach 
 them the rule of duty, and guide their steps in the 
 ways of true religion ; but against the light of their 
 own minds, acted the most impious and unsociable 
 part: therefore God repented that he had made 
 them, that is, he did what is the product of repent- 
 ance in men, when they undo, as far as it is in their 
 power, what they repent of, and destroyed his own 
 work by that desolating judgment, the flood. This 
 seems to be the truth of the case. The words of 
 Moses do not mean the state of human nature on 
 account of the fall. They express only the wicked- 
 ness of the tenth generation as a reason for the 
 deluge at that time. There is not the least ground 
 for asserting from this passage in the sacred histo- 
 rian, that man was unable to do good by his 
 natural powers, and that his crimes arose from re- 
 sisting the actings of God upon his mind. The im- 
 piety of this generation was a mere abuse of free 
 will, and acting against the plain dictates of their own
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 143 
 
 minds ; therefore, when wilful oppression and sen- 
 suality filled the earth, God destroyed the world by 
 an inundation. Noah only, who was a just man, 
 and perfect in his generation, with his family es- 
 caped. 
 
 ^' This terrible execution of an awful vengeance 
 on the guilty race, demonstrated to the survivors, 
 and to all ages to come, the great malignity of sin, 
 and the uncontrolable supremacy of the divine go- 
 vernment. As the venerable patriarch and his 
 family sailed over the bosom of the boundless ocean 
 of waters, and above the wrecks and ruins of this 
 terrestrial world, they adored with grateful hearts, 
 the Almighty Father of virtue and goodness, who 
 had so wonderfully preserved them, and were con- 
 vinced by the amazing, striking evidence, that sin 
 is the greatest infamy and degradation of our reason 
 and nature ; that it has an insuperable repugnancy 
 and irreversible contrariety, to our true happiness, 
 and is infamous, pernicious, and ruinous, by the 
 sentence of the Almighty. The dreadful event un- 
 answerably evinced his constant actual cognizance 
 of enormous faith and manners, and his unchange- 
 able displeasure with them. This truth, which was 
 learn'd at first, by the expulsion from Paradise, and 
 the sad inheritance of m.ortality, they saw again re- 
 published in the most awful manner. This gave
 
 144 THE LIFE OF 
 
 undoubtedly a very religious turn to their minds, 
 and they determined to adhere to those excellent 
 principles and practices, which had been, through 
 God's goodness, their security in the general deso- 
 lation, and to flee the contrary malignant ones 
 which had procured that desolation on the rest. In 
 a degree suitable to their nature and ability, they 
 resolved to imitate the perfections of God, and to 
 employ the powers and faculties of reason in en- 
 deavouring to be just, and righteous, and merciful 
 And as the amazing operation of God in the deluge 
 called for their wonder and praise, we must think 
 their hearts glowed with the sense of his goodness 
 to them, and that they extolled his mercy and power 
 in the salvation they had received. So we are told 
 by an inspired writer. Noah restored the antient 
 rites of divine service, and built an altar to the Lord, 
 ' And the Lord smelled a sweet savour, and said, 
 never any more will I curse the ground for man's 
 sake, though the imagination of man's heart is evil 
 from his youth ;' because he will not hearken to the 
 voice of reason, and with the greatest ardour and 
 contention of mind, labour to attain a conformity to 
 the divine nature in the moral perfections of it 
 which is the true dignity of man, and the utmost 
 excellence of human souls. * Neither will I again 
 smite any more every living creature as I have done
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 145 
 
 While the earth remaineth, seed time and harvest, 
 and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day 
 and night shall not cease.' 
 
 ** Thus did God enter into a covenant with 
 Noah, and his sons, and their seed ; and as the late 
 amazing occurrences must incline the spectators of 
 the flood to piety and goodness ; and the fathers of 
 the post-deluvian world were careful to instruct their 
 children in the several parts of the stupendous fact, 
 and from the whole inculcate the being and perfec- 
 tions of God, his universal dominion and actual 
 providence and government over all things, his love 
 of virtue and goodness and infinite detestation of 
 all sin ; to which we may add, that the imitation of 
 God is not a new principle introduced into religion 
 by revelation, but has its foundation in the reason 
 and nature of things; we may from hence conclude, 
 that the rising generation were persons of conspi- 
 cuous devotion, and followed after the moral vir- 
 tues, the holiness, justice and mercy which the light 
 of nature discovers. They were, I believe, most 
 excellent mortals for some time. They obeyed to 
 be sure every dictate of reason, and adored and 
 praised the invisible Deity ; the supreme immutable 
 mind. 
 
 " But this beautiful scene had an end, and man 
 once more forgot his Maker and himself. He pros- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE LIFE OF 
 
 titnted the honour of both, by robbing God of the 
 obedience due to him, and by submitting himself a 
 slave to the elements of the world. When he 
 looked up to the heavens, and saw the glory of the 
 sun and stars, instead of praising the Lord of all, 
 he foolishly said, these are thy gods, O Man ! An 
 universal apostacy from the primitive religion pre- 
 vailed. They began with the heavenly bodies, or 
 sydereal gods, and proceeded to heroes, brutes, 
 and images, till the world was overflowed with an 
 inundation of idolatory, and superstition; even 
 such superstition, as nourished under the notion of 
 religion, and pleasing the gods, the most bestial 
 impurities, the most inhuman and unnatural cruel- 
 ties, and the most unmanly and contemptible follies. 
 Moral virtue and goodness were totally extinguished. 
 When men had lost the sense of the supreme Being, 
 the Creator, Governor, and Judge of the world, 
 they not only ceased to be righteous and holy, but 
 became necessarily vicious and corrupt in practice ; 
 for iniquity flows from corrupt religion, as the 
 waters from the spring. The principles and cere- 
 monies of the established idolatries gave additional 
 strength to men's natural inclinations, to intem- 
 perance, lust, fraud, violence, and every kind of 
 unrighteousness and debauchery. Long before the 
 days of Moses this was the general case. Idolatry
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 147 
 
 had violated all the duties of true religion, and the 
 most abominable practices by constitution were 
 authorised. The Phalli* and the Mylli,t rites that 
 modesty forbids to explain, were esteemed principal 
 parts of their ritual ; virgins before marriage were 
 to sacrifice their chastity to the honour of Venus ;t 
 
 * " Ex ea re turn privatim tum publice lignea virilia 
 thyrsis alligates per eam solennitatem gestabant : fuit 
 enim Phallus vocatum membrum virile." Schaedius de 
 Diis Germanis, edidit Keyslero, 17^8, 8vo. p. 130. 
 
 t " Heraclides Syracusius libro de vetustis et sancitis 
 moribus scribit apud Syracusios in perfectis thermopho- 
 riis, ex sesame et melle fingi pudenda muliebria, quae 
 per hides et spectacula circumferebantur, et vocabantur 
 Mylli." — Athensei Deipnos. 1- 14. p. 647- 
 
 X This is taken notice of by the prophet Jeremiah. 
 " The women also with cords about them, sitting in the 
 ways, bum bran for perfume j but if any of them, drawn 
 by some thatpasseth by, lie with her, she reproacheth her 
 fellow, that she was not thought as worthy as herself, 
 nor her cord broken."— J5ari^cA, ch. 6. v. 43. 
 
 Herodotus, who lived almost two centuries after, in 
 explanation of this passage of the prophet Baruch, tells 
 us, " Every woman at Babylon, was obliged, once in her 
 life, to sit down openly in the temple of Venus, in order 
 to prostitute herself to some stranger : They enter into 
 the temple, and sit down crowned with garlands, some 
 continually going out, aud others coming in : The ga'-
 
 148 THE LIFE OF 
 
 men were offered upon the altars for sacrifices; and 
 children were burned alive to Moloch and Adrama- 
 
 leries where they sit are built in a strait line, and open 
 on every side, that all strangers may have a free passage 
 to chuse such women as they like best. Those women who 
 excel in beauty and shape are soon dismissed : but the 
 deformed are sometimes necessitated to wait three or 
 four years, before they can satisfy the law. The men 
 declared their choice by throwing money into the lap of 
 the woman they most admired, which she was by no 
 means to refuse, but instantly retire with the man that 
 accosted her, and fulfil the law. Women of rank, for 
 none were dispensed with ; might sit in covered chariots 
 for the purpose, whilst their servants waited at a distance 
 till they had done." See Herodotus, translated hy Isaac 
 Littlehury, l70g, 8vo. vol. 1. p. 125. 
 
 Strabo also furnishes an account to the same pur- 
 pose, lib. l6. p. 745 ; and Justin observes the reason for 
 this custom, was ne sola impudria videretur, i. e. lest 
 Venus alone should appear lascivious. — Lib. 18. cap. 5. 
 As to the breaking of the woman's cord. Dr. Hyde 
 says, their lower garments were tied with small and 
 weak cords made of rushes, *' qui ad congrediendum 
 erant frangendi." Purchas confirms this notion ; having 
 seen the thing practised in his travels in the east. Pilgr. 
 book 1. ch. 12. p. Qb. But Grotius on Baruch says, the 
 meaning was, the women had cords given them, as a 
 token that they were under the vow of prostitution, 
 which when they had performed, the cord was properly
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 149 
 
 lech. In a word, the most abominable immora- 
 lities universally prevailed ; with the encourage- 
 ments of religion, men were led into intemperance, 
 
 said to be broken; for every vow may be called vinculum, 
 or a cord. As I take it, the case was both as Hyde and 
 Grotius relate it. I was in company with a physician, 
 who had spent many years of his life in the East, and 
 he assured me, he had seen both circumstances practised 
 in the kingdom of Cranganor. 
 
 As to the woman's burning' incense or bran for a per- 
 fume, it was the custom before coition, by way of charm 
 and incentive. When a Babylonian and his wife had a 
 mind to correspond, they always first lit up the fuming 
 pan, imagining it improved the passion. So in the Phar- 
 maceuiria of Theocritus, p. 33. we see Simaetha is using 
 her incantation, " nunc furfures sacrificabo," Jit-rjpo-^, 
 the word made use of in Jeremiah's Epistle. And as if 
 all this had not been lust enough in their religion, it was 
 farther declared in their ritual, that those were best 
 qualified for the sacerdotal function, who were born of 
 mothers who conceived them of their own sons. 
 
 In respect of human sacrifices, if you would have a 
 full account of them, consult the following authors, and 
 you will find that the Canaanites were far from being the 
 only Pagans who were guilty of this unnatural barbarity. 
 Selden de Diis Syris. Segort. l.c- 6. and all the authors 
 he quotes. Grotius on Deut. 1 8. Isaac Vossius de Orig. 
 IdolA. 2. c. 5. Dion. Vossius on Maimon. de fdol c 6. 
 Lud. Vives ^oies on St. Aug. de Civit. Dei. 1. 7- c. I9.
 
 150 THE LIFE OF 
 
 uncleanness, murders, and many vices, inconsistent 
 with the prosperity and peace of society, as well as 
 with the happiness of private persons; and that 
 such iniquities might have a perpetual source, the 
 most shameful idolatries were preserved in opposi- 
 tion to the knowledge and worship of the one true 
 God. So general was this corruption and idolatry, 
 that the infection seized the descendants of Shem, 
 the pious race. Even Terah, the father of Abram, 
 we find charged with it. And Abram himself was 
 culpable I think in this respect, as the word Asebes 
 imports. It is rendered in our Bible ungodly, but 
 it signifies more properly idolatry, and that is what 
 St. Paul in the 4th chapter to the Romans hints. 
 The apostle speaking of Abraham, says, but to him 
 that worketh not, but believeth in him that justifieth 
 the ungodly, that is, an ungodly idolator, who has 
 no manner of claim to the blessings of God, he must 
 be justified upon the foot, not of his own prior obe- 
 dience, but of God's mercy. 
 
 *' In such a calamitous state, a revelation to re- 
 store the law of nature, and make it more fully and 
 clearly known, to enforce its observance, to afford 
 
 Ouzelius et Elmenhorstius Notes on Min. Fcelix. Spen- 
 ceri de Lcgihus Hehraorum. 1. 2. c. 13. And Fabricius 
 BiUiographia. c. 9.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 151 
 
 helps and motives to the better performance of what 
 it enjoins, and relieve the guilty mind against all its 
 doubts, would certainly be a merciful vouchsafement 
 from God to mankind, and be much for their ad- 
 vantage and happiness ; and therefore, in the 428th 
 year from the flood, to provide for the restoration of 
 the true religion, and preserve the knowledge and 
 worship of the one true God on earth, in opposition 
 to the prevailing idolatry, and the gross immoralities 
 that were the effects of idolatrous principles and 
 practices, Jehovah commanded Abraham to leave 
 his country, his kindred, and his father's house, and 
 proceed with his family to the land of Canaan. Here 
 God entered into covenants with Abraham and his 
 posterity,* to be instruments in the hands of Pro- 
 vidence for bringing about great designs in the 
 world, that he and his posterity were to be the 
 church of God, and depositaries of a hope, that the 
 covenant limited to Abraham and his chosen seed, 
 was to grow in the fulness of time into a blessing 
 upon all the nations of the earth. Abraham was at 
 this time seventy-five years old, and God added to 
 
 * Bishop Sherlock well observes, that " two cove- 
 nants were given to Abraham, one a temporal covenant, 
 to take place in the land of Canaan — the other, a cove- 
 nant of better hope, to be performed in abetter country." 
 Discourse on Prophesy, p. 134.
 
 152 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the patriarchal worship the visible mark of circum- 
 cision, as a seal of a covenant between himself and 
 Abraham. 
 
 *' Yet how fit soever such a visible mark might 
 be, to keep in remembrance the covenant between 
 God and the family of Abraham, it was found in ex- 
 perience, insufficient to preserve them from the 
 idolatrous customs of their neighbours. Some new 
 laws, some further constitutions of worship were to 
 be added, or, as the family of Abraham were situated 
 in the midst of idolators and unrighteous ones, it 
 was foreseen they would soon fall from the essen- 
 tials of religion ; and instead of preserving a right 
 knowledge of God, of his being, perfections and go- 
 vernment, a just sense of the reverence all men owe 
 to him, from a firm belief of his being, power, domi- 
 nion, justice, and goodness, and an hearty concern 
 to obey the known will of God in all things ; doing 
 what is pleasing in his sight, seeking, and hoping 
 their perfection and happiness, in the likeness, and 
 in the image of God ; they would, on the contrary, 
 serve other Gods, and make their idolatry, not a 
 matter of harmless speculation, but a fountain of 
 the most dangerous immoralities ; and therefore, as 
 it was highly fit in itself, and well becoming the 
 wisdom of God, he gave Moses a Christianity in 
 hieroglyphics, that is, a tabernacle, a shechinah, a
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 153 
 
 priesthood, an altar, sacrifices, laws moral, and cere- 
 monial, with every constituent part of the Hebrew 
 ritual; being figures of a better shecbinah, temple, 
 priest, altar, sacrifice, revelation, and blessings — 
 figurative representations of the more perfect consti- 
 tutions in the days of Messiah the King. This was 
 in the year 875 after the flood, and in 1491 before 
 Christ. By a ritual so becoming the wisdom of God, 
 given for a preservative against idolatrous princi- 
 ples, and as a dispensation preparatory to that future 
 heavenly religion, the Hebrew nation were guarded 
 against the surrounding corruptions of the world, 
 and raised up the defenders of true religion, to pre- 
 serve the knowledge and worship of the one true 
 God. 
 
 *' But as mankind would not follow the light of 
 nature, which is sufficient, when attended to for a 
 constant universal practice of piety and morality; 
 so neither would they be engaged by various re- 
 vealed laws, from time to time given, and by the 
 calls and lessons of many prophets, to the practice 
 of true religion and righteousness ; but as the heart 
 is the seat and source of wickedness in man, accord- 
 ing to the prophet Jeremiah, so even the hearts of 
 the Jews became deceitful above all things, and des- 
 perately wicked. And the prophet goes on to shew, 
 not the necessary inability of man without expe-
 
 154 THE LIFE OF 
 
 riences, or an operating spirit within, as you sup- 
 pose, madam ; but that, though men thus wickedly 
 deceive one another, yet they cannot possibly by 
 such a wilful desperate piece of wickedness deceive 
 their Maker, because to him the most secret re- 
 cesses of their hearts lie open ; and, consequently, 
 in the issue, they deceive themselves, seeing God, 
 who knows the deceit which is lodged in their hearts, 
 will render unto them according to their works, and 
 according to the fruit of their doings : so that their 
 hope and expectation will be disappointed, even as 
 a partridge is disappointed that sitteth on eggs, and 
 hatcheth them not. 
 
 " And as St. Paul says from the fourteenth and 
 fifty-third Psalm, there was none righteous, no not 
 one ; there is none that understandeth, there is none 
 that seeketh after God; and so on, as you madam, 
 have quoted the verses, in which the apostle did 
 not intend to shew the necessary pollution of man 
 without the help of grace; but the groundlessness 
 of that opinion which the Jews had gone into, that 
 they were the only people which pleased God ; for 
 they were as guilty as the Gentiles were in trans- 
 gressing the law of nature. Neither of them had 
 any legal title to justification. They were all very 
 sreat transs-ressors. The throat of Jew and Gentile 
 an open sepulchre : their tongues, deceit : the poi-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 155 
 
 son of asps under their lips : their mouths, full of 
 cursing and bitterness : their feet swift to shed 
 blood. Destruction and misery in their ways : and 
 the way of peace have they not known : Therefore 
 the justification of the Jew as well as the Gentile 
 must be of grace, and not of debt. 
 
 " In this was manifested the inestimable love of 
 God in the redemption of the world by Jesus Christ. 
 Though Jew and Gentile were qualified to discern 
 and do both good and evil, and the Jew had a writ- 
 ten law as a further assistance, but nevertheless they 
 violated the plain dictates of natural reason, and 
 the divine precepts of the law, and by unrighteous- 
 ness and impurity, rendered themselves objects of 
 judgment and condemnation ; yet the Father of the 
 universe, in compassion to mankind, sent a divine 
 teacher from heaven, Christ, the true prophet that 
 was to come into the word, and by his divinely re- 
 vealed testimony and authority, attempts to abolish 
 the superstition of men, reclaim their wickedness, 
 and bring them back to the true spiritual worship of 
 God, and to that holiness of life and manners which 
 is agreeable to the uncorrupted light and dictates of 
 nature. This was love. The blessed God, in com- 
 passion to human ignorance and wickedness, con- 
 tracted by men's own fault, gives them an express 
 revelation of his will, and re-establishes the rule of
 
 160 THE LIFE OF 
 
 pure uncorrupt religion and morality. He declares 
 those terms of sinful man's reconcilement to him 
 which he was pleased to accept. Grace is mani- 
 fested in the gospel to turn men from their vanities, 
 or idol service, unto the living God, who made 
 heaven and earth, and by the doctrine and sacrifice 
 of Jesus Christ, to redeem us from all iniquity, and 
 purify to himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 works : — That denying all ungodliness and worldly 
 lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly 
 in this present world, looking for that blessed hope, 
 and the glorious appearance of the great God ; who 
 will judge the world by that divine person, and great 
 temporary minister, whom he sent before to destroy 
 sin, and the kingdom of Satan ; and to bring man- 
 kind into a perfect obedience to the will of the 
 supreme Being. This renders Christianity a heavenly 
 thing. Revelation thus explained is beautiful and 
 useful to an extreme degree. It does not contradict, 
 but strengthens the obligations of natural religion." 
 " Your account. Sir," said Mrs. Price, '' of man 
 and religion is different indeed from mine, and I 
 must allow your explications have reason in them : 
 but still they do not satisfy me, nor can I part with 
 my own opinion. Two things in particular to me 
 appear very strange in your scheme. It seems to 
 take away the necessity of the Christian revelation,
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 157 
 
 if natural religion, duly attended to, was perfect, 
 and sufficient for virtue and holiness, and thereby 
 to gain the favor of God. If reason alone can 
 do the work, if men please, then what need of the 
 gospel ? If men will consider, and without consider- 
 ation, no scheme can be of service ; they may as 
 well turn their thoughts to the law of nature as to 
 the law of grace, if there is no differenc betwixt the 
 rule of nature and the law of Christ, with regard to 
 the knowledge of God, the maker of heaven and 
 earth, and the worship due to him on that account, 
 and the practice of virtue and morality. 
 
 " In the next place, if I understand you right, 
 the grace of God is of no use at all in religion, as 
 you account lor salvation. What is out of order 
 within us, in the mind and its faculties, the will and 
 its affections, and wants to be set right in good 
 thoughts and works, our own reason, in your no- 
 tion of religion, is sufficient to regulate, and unas- 
 sisted by the illumination of the holy spirit of God, 
 we may live in an uncorrupted state of piety and 
 morality, and so save our souls, if we please. This 
 is what I cannot believe. The grace of God in the 
 gospel is the glory and comfort of the Christian re- 
 ligion. A divine operation that renews and sancti- 
 fies the mind is an invaluable blessing, and in a 
 manner inexpressibly charming, satisfies me beyond
 
 158 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hesitation, that the Christian rehgion is true, while it 
 puts me in the actual possession of the good effects 
 of it. The spirit of God discovers to me the state 
 of my own mind, in all the circumstances of a Chris- 
 tian life, sets my follies, my neglects, and my fail- 
 ings, in order before me, which is the first right step 
 in order to the overcoming them ; and then observ- 
 ing the discoveries I was not able to make myself, 
 and having a strong faith in the divine power and 
 sufficiency, I am enabled to gain victories my insuf- 
 ficient reason could never obtain- May this divine 
 monitor then abide in my breast. It is by the 
 heavenly assistance of the holy spirit only, as 
 vouchsafed in the Christian dispensation, that I can 
 secure for myself eternal life. The wise and pru- 
 dent of this world may think as they please of this 
 matter, and produce reasonings against it beyond 
 my power to answer ; but for my part, I must con- 
 sider it as the principle of my salvation, and think I 
 cannot be thankful enough for the inestimable bless- 
 ing. It is to me a glorious instance of the great 
 wisdom and goodness of God." 
 
 *' Madam," 1 replied, '' in relation to your first 
 objection, that I make no difference between re- 
 vealed and natural religion, for nature is as suffi- 
 cient as grace, in my account, I assure you that I 
 think the revelation of the gospel excels the best
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 159 
 
 scheme of natural religion that couid be proposed ; 
 in declaring the terms of reconcilement, in demon- 
 strating the divine wrath against sin, in the method 
 of shewing mercy by the death of God's beloved 
 son, and the promise of free pardon on the condi- 
 tion of repentance and newness of life. This man- 
 ner gives unspeakable comfort to repenting sinners- 
 It gives the greatest encouragement to engage them 
 to the love of God, and the practice of all his com- 
 mandments ; an encouragement that reason could 
 not discover. To Christianity, therefore, the true 
 preference is due. Though philosophy or the doc- 
 trine of reason may reform men, yet the Christian 
 religion is a clearer and more powerful guide. It 
 improves the light of reason by the supernatural 
 evidence and declaration of God's will, and the 
 means of man's redemption is a more efficacious 
 motive and obligation to universal obedience than 
 nature could ever with certainty propose. A reve- 
 lation that has the clearest and strongest evidence 
 of being the divine will, must be the most easy and 
 effectual method of instruction, and be more no- 
 ticed than the best human teaching ; and this will 
 of God being truly and faithfully committed to 
 writing, and preserved uncorrupt, must always be 
 the best and surest rule of faith and manners. It 
 is a rule absolutely free from all those errors and
 
 160 THE LIFE OF 
 
 superstitions, both of belief and practice, which no 
 human composure was ever before free from, or, 
 probably, would have been free from, without the 
 assistance of such a revelation. Nor is this all. 
 This is not the only superior excellence of our holy 
 religion. 
 
 " A Mediator and crucified Redeemer brought 
 into the Christian revelation, has a noble effect on 
 a considering mind, and shews the reasonableness 
 of the gospel-dispensation. The wisest and most 
 rational heathens ever were for sacrifices and medi- 
 ators, as the greatness of God was thereby declared, 
 and that not only sin deserved punishment, but 
 men's lives to be forfeited by their breach of the 
 divine laws ; and when a divine person, made man, 
 like unto us, appears instead of all other mediators, 
 by whom, as the instrument of the means of salva- 
 tion, we are to offer up our prayers to the only true 
 God ; and his voluntary dying in testimony of the 
 truth of his mission and doctrine, is appointed to 
 be instead of all other sacrifices, and to remain a 
 memorial that God requires no atonement of us, but 
 repentance and newness of life; and the spotless 
 virtues and obedience of this divine Redeemer, are 
 to be a most perfect and moving example for us to 
 imitate; this renders Christianity worthy of God, 
 and makes it the perfection of religion. Great then
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ, 161 
 
 are the advantages which the revelation of Christ 
 Jesus has above mere reason, darkened by the 
 clouds of error and a general corruption. It is the 
 most perfect rule of life. It is the most powerful 
 means to promote a constant uniform practice of 
 virtue and piety. It advances human nature to its 
 highest perfection, fills it with all the fruits of righ- 
 teousness, and grants us privileges and blessings 
 far snperor to what we could attain any other way. 
 
 ** With regard to the second objection, that I 
 take away the grace of God, to preserve the dignity 
 of human nature, this is far from my intention. I 
 do indeed think, that as the gospel was given for 
 the noblest purpose ; to wit, to call in an extraordi- 
 nary manner upon mankind, to forsake that vice and 
 idolatry, the corrupt creed of polytheism, the guilt 
 of superstition, their great iniquities, violent pas- 
 sions, and wordly affections, which are all contrary 
 to reason, and disgrace human nature ; and to 
 practise that whole system of morality, which they 
 must know to be most useful to them ; that they 
 might turn to a religion which had but one object, 
 the Great Invisible Being, all-knowing and all-suf- 
 ficient, to whom all the intelligent world are to 
 make their devout applications; because he is an 
 infinite, independent, sovereign mind, who has cre- 
 ated all things', and absolutely rules and governs 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE LIFE OF 
 
 all ; possesses all natural perfections, exists in all 
 duration, fills all space with his presence, and is the 
 omniscient witness of all their difficulties and 
 wants ; and that since they were bound by all the 
 ties of moral duty to obey this one God, and ob- 
 serve the rational institutions of religion, therefore 
 they should make it the labour of their whole lives 
 to excel in holiness and righteousness, and by virtue 
 and piety unite themselves to God, and entitle them- 
 selves to glory at the great day. That as this is 
 the nature; end, and design of the Christian reve- 
 lation, so I do think the gospel of our salvation the 
 word of truth, as an apostle calls it, is sufficient for 
 the purpose, without immediate impulses. As we 
 have a reasonable, intellectual nature, there is no 
 want of mechanical powers. The words of Christ, 
 which are the words of God, are, our life, and will, 
 if attended to, powerfully enable us to practise good 
 works, and to excel, and persevere therein. I can 
 do all these things, through Christ, who strength- 
 eneth me, that is, through the written directions of 
 Christ, and through the arguments and motives of 
 the Christian doctrine. To say otherwise of the 
 gospel, is, in my opinion, injurious to it. 
 
 *' God may, to be sure, give special aids to 
 men, whenever he thinks fit. He may, by an ex- 
 traordinary agency, render our faculties more ca-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, LSQ. 16: 
 
 pable of apprehension, where divine things are con- 
 cerned, may awaken a dormant idea, which lay 
 neglected in the memory, with unusual energy; 
 may secretly attract the more attentive regard of 
 the mind, and give it an inclination and an ability 
 of tracing its various relations, with an unusual at- 
 tention, so that a lustre before quite unknown shall 
 be, as it were, poured upon it ; the spirit of God 
 may render the mind more susceptible and more 
 tenacious of divine knowledge ; 1 believe he often 
 does by interposition, if in the spirit of Christ's 
 doctrine we ask it of the great Father of Lights, the 
 author of all the understanding divided among the 
 various ranks of created beings ; who, as he first 
 formed the minds of angels and men, continues the 
 exercise of their intellectual faculties, and one way 
 or another communicates to them all the knowledge 
 of every kind which they possess : in which view all 
 our knowledge of every kind may be called a reve- 
 lation from God, and be ascribed, as it is by Elihu 
 in Job, to the inspiration of the Almighty. This the 
 holy Spirit may do, and dissipate a prejudice that 
 opposes truth. But this is not always necessary, 
 nor always to be expected. It is evident from the 
 gospel, that our Lord rather speaks of his word and 
 doctrine, as the aids to save men's souls, than of 
 himself, or spirit, personally considered. Abiding
 
 164 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in him, and he in them, as necessary to their bear- 
 ing fruit, signifies a strict and steady regard to his 
 word, and the influence of that upon our minds. 
 * If ye abide in rae, and my words obide in you ; ye 
 shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto 
 you:' that is, * If you continue to believe in me, 
 and to pay a steady regard to my doctrine, you will 
 be highly acceptable to God/ 
 
 •• In short, * as no man can come unto me,' says 
 our Lord, ' except the Father which hath sent me 
 draw him;' that is no man will receive my pure, 
 sublime, and spiritual doctrine, unless he have first 
 gained some just apprehensions concerning the ge- 
 neral principles of religion ; but if he has a good 
 notion of God and his perfections, and desires to 
 advance in virtue, he will come unto me, and 
 hearken to that revelation, which contains the best 
 directions for the performance of all the duties, and 
 the greatest incitement to virtue, piety and devo- 
 tion, so, no man can come to the Father but by the 
 Son, that is, by obeying the written word, and pro- 
 ceeding in that v/ay in which the Son has declared 
 it to be the will of the Father, that men should come 
 to him, namely, by keeping God's commandments, 
 and b[y repentance and amendment of life ; there 
 being no other name, or way given among men, but 
 this w«ky given or declared by Jesus Christy by which
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ICS 
 
 they may be saved. In all this, there is not a word 
 of supernatural light or operation; though such 
 operation, as before observed, there may be. There 
 is not a hint of man's natural inability. 
 
 " To the glorious gospel then, the gospel of our 
 salvation, the word of truth, the word of life, let us 
 come, and with diligence and impartiality study it. 
 Let us follow the truth we there find in every page, 
 and it will enable us to triumph over the tempta- 
 tions of allurement and of terror. We shall become 
 the children of God by the spirit of adoption. We 
 shall be easy and happy in this life, and glorious 
 and ever blessed in that which is to come. If we 
 obey the gospel of the Son of God, and hearken to 
 his word, he will take us under his guardian care. 
 He descended from heaven, to deliver us from 
 everlasting ruin, he purchased us with the price 6f 
 his own blood, and if we live up to the word of 
 truth, he will conduct us safely through life and 
 death, into the abode of holy and happy spirits, and 
 at length raise our bodies from the dust, and fix our 
 complete persons in a state of immortal glory and 
 felicity. This is my sense of religion. Where I am 
 wrong, I shall ever be glad to be set right." 
 
 Mrs. Price made_no replj, and so ended this 
 remarkable conver^iioa. On whose side the truth 
 is, the reader is to judge. What she advances for
 
 166 THE LIFE OF 
 
 supernatural operation is strong- and pious; and 
 considering Mrs. Price had no learning, and was 
 almost without any reading, I thought it very won- 
 derful to hear her on this, and many other subjects. 
 She was such another genius as Chubb, but on the 
 other side of the question ; if she had been able to 
 write as sensibly and correctly as she talked on se- 
 veral articles of religion, she would have made a 
 good author. So much goodness and good sense I 
 have not very often found in her kind. They merit 
 a memorial in a journal of the curious things that 
 have occurred to me in my life-time. 
 
 The thirteenth of June, 1725, 1 took my leave of 
 my friend, John Price, and his admirable wife, 
 promising to visit them again as soon as it was in 
 my power, and proceeded on my journey in quest of 
 Mr. Turner. I would not let Price go with me, on 
 second thoughts, as many sad accidents might 
 happen in this rough and desolate part of the world, 
 and no relief in such case to be found. If I fell, 
 there was no one belonging to me to shed a tear for 
 me; but if a mischief should befal Jack Price, his 
 wife would be miserable indeed, and I the maker of 
 a breach in the sweetest system of felicity that love 
 and good sense had ever formed. This made me re- 
 fuse his repeated offers to accompany me. All I would 
 have was a boy and horse of his^ to carry some
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 16* 
 
 provisions wet and dry, as there was no public- 
 house to be found in ascending those tremendous 
 hills, or in the deep vales through which I must go ; 
 nor any house that he knew of beyond his own. 
 
 With the rising sun then I set out, and was 
 charmed for several hours with the air and views. 
 The mountains, the rocky precipices, the woods and 
 the waters, appeared in various striking situations 
 every mile I travelled on, and formed the most 
 astonishing points of view. Sometimes I was above 
 the clouds, and then crept to enchanting vallies be- 
 low. Here glens were seen that looked as if the 
 mountains had been rent asunder to form the 
 amazing scenes, and there, forests and falling 
 streams covered the sides of the hills. Rivers in 
 many places, in the most beautiful cascades, were 
 tumbling along ; and cataracts from the tops of 
 mountains came roaring down. The whole was 
 grand, wonderful, and fine. On the top of one of 
 the mountains I passed over at noon, the air was 
 piercing cold, on account of its great height, and so 
 subtle, that we breathed with difficulty, and were a 
 little sick. From hence I saw several black subja- 
 cent clouds big with thunder, and the lightning 
 within them rolled backwards and forwards, like 
 shining bodies of the brightest lustre. One of them 
 went off in the grandest horrors through the vale
 
 1G8 THE LIFE or 
 
 below, and liad no more to do with the pike 1 was 
 on than if it had been a summit in another planet. 
 The scene was prodigiously fine. Sub pedibus 
 ventos et rauca tonitrua calcat. 
 
 Till the evening, I rid and walked it, and in 
 numberless windings round impassable hills, and 
 by the sides of rivers it was impossible to cross, 
 journeyed a great many miles, but no human crea- 
 ture, or any kind of house, did I meet with in all the 
 long way, and as I arrived at last at a beautiful 
 lake, whose banks the hand of nature had adorned 
 with vast old trees, I sat down by this water in the 
 shade to dine, on a neat's tongue I had got from 
 good Mrs, Price; and was so delighted with the 
 striking beauties and stillness of the place, that I 
 determined to pass the night in this sweet retreat. 
 Nor was it one night only, if I had my will, that I 
 would have rested there. Often did I wish for a 
 convenient little lodge by this sweet water-side, and 
 that with the numerous swans, and other fowl that 
 lived there, I might have spent my time in peace 
 below, till I was removed to the established seat of 
 happiness above. 
 
 Had this been possible, I should have avoided 
 many an affliction, and had known but few of those 
 expectations and disappointments, which render life 
 a scene of emptiness, and bitterness itself. My
 
 JOHN Bl'NCI.E, KbQ. 160 
 
 years would have rolled"bn in peace and wisdom, 
 in this sequestered, delightful scene, and my silent 
 meditations had been productive of that good tem- 
 per and good action, whicli the resurrection of the 
 dead, the dissolution of the world, the judgement 
 day, and the eternal state of men, requires us to 
 have. Free from the various perplexities, and 
 troubles I have experienced by land and sea, in 
 different parts of the world, 1 should have lived, in 
 this paradise of a place, in the enjoyment of that 
 fine happiness, which easy country business and a 
 studious life afford ; and might have made a better 
 preparation for that hour which is to disunite me, 
 and let my invisible spirit depart to the shades of 
 eternity. Happy they, who in some such rural re- 
 tirement, can employ some useful hours every day 
 in the management of a little comfortable farm, and 
 devote the greater portion of their time to sacred 
 knowledge, heavenly piety, and angelic goodness ; 
 which cannot be dissolved when the thinker goes, 
 nor be confined to the box of obscurity, under the 
 clods of the earth ; but will exist in our souls for 
 ever, and enable us to depart in peace to the happy 
 regions. This has ever made me prefer a retired 
 country life, when it was in my power to enjoy it. 
 But be it town or country, the main business, my 
 good readers, should be to secure an inheritance in
 
 170 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that eternal world, where the sanctified live with 
 God and his Christ. Getting, keeping, multiplying 
 money; dress, pleasure, entry; are not only little 
 things for such beings as we are : they are indeed 
 sad principal work for creatures that are passing 
 away to an everlasting state : there to lament their 
 lost day, and talents misapplied, in dreadful agonies, 
 in the habitations of darkness ; or to remain for 
 ever in the habitations of light, peace, and joy; if 
 you have laboured to obtain, and improve in the 
 graces and virtuous qualities which the gospel re- 
 commends. These are the treasure and possession 
 worth a Christian's acquiring. These only are 
 portable into the eternal world ; when the body that 
 was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared 
 sumptuously every day, is laid in a cold and narrow 
 cave. [^ Take my advice then, reader. Be ready. 
 1 Let us so think and act in this first state, that in 
 I the next, we may meet in the regions of purity and 
 ^ righteousness, serenity and joy .\ 
 
 The lake I have mentioned was the largest I had 
 Seen in this wild part, being above a mile in length, 
 and more than half a mile broad; and the water 
 that filled it burst with the greatest impetuosity from 
 the inside of a rocky mountain, that is very wonder- 
 ful to behold. It is a vast craggy precipice, that 
 ascends till it is almost out of sight, and by its
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. I7I 
 
 gloomy and tremendous air, strikes the mind with 
 a horror that has something pleasing in it. This 
 amazing cliff stands perpendicular at one end of the 
 lake, at the distance of a few yards, and has an 
 opening at the bottom, that is wide enough for two 
 coaches to enter at once, if the place was dry. In 
 the middle of it there is a deep channel, down which 
 the water rushes with a mighty swiftness and force, 
 and on either side, the stone rises a yard above 
 the impetuous stream. The ascent is easy and flat. 
 How far it goes, I know not, being afraid to ascend 
 more than forty yards ; not only on account of the 
 terrors common to the place, from the fall of so 
 much water with a strange kind of roar, and the 
 height of the arch which covers the torrent all the 
 way : but because as I went up, there was of a sud- 
 den, an increase of noise so very terrible, that my 
 heart failed me, and a trembling almost disabled me. 
 The rock moved under me, as the frightful sounds 
 encreased, and as quick as it was possible for me, I 
 came into day again. It was well I did; for I had 
 not been many minutes out, before the water over- 
 flowed its channel, and filled the whole opening in 
 rushing to the lake. The increase of the water, and 
 the violence of the discharge, were an astonishing 
 sight. I had a fortunate escape. 
 
 As the rocky mountain I have mentioned, is
 
 17'3 TllK LIIE OF 
 
 higher than either Snowden in North-Wales, or 
 Kedar-Idris in Merionethshire, which have been 
 thought the highest mountains in this island ; that 
 is, it is full a mile and a half high from the basis, as 
 I found by ascending it with great toil on the side 
 that was from the water, and the top was a flat dry 
 rock, that had not the least spring, or piece of water 
 on it, how shall we account for the rapid flood that 
 proceeded from its inside? Where did this great 
 water come from ? I answer, might it not flow from 
 the great abyss, and the great encrease of it, and the 
 fearful noise, and the motion of the rock, be owing 
 to some violent commotion in the abyss, occasioned 
 by some natural or supernatural cause ? 
 
 That there is such an abyss, no one can doubt 
 that believes revelation, and from reason and history 
 it is credible, that there are violent concussions on 
 this vast collection of water, by the divine appoint- 
 ment : and therefore, I imagine it is from thence the 
 water of this mountain proceeds, and the great over- 
 flowing and terrifying sound at certain times. To 
 this motion of the abyss, by the divine power ex- 
 erted on it, I ascribe the earthquakes ; and not to 
 vapour, or electricity. As to electricity, which Dr. 
 Stukely makes the cause of the deplorable downfal 
 of Lisbon, in his book on The Philosophy of Earth- 
 quakes; there are many things to be objected against
 
 JOHN BUN CLE, ESQ. 173 
 
 its being the origin of such calamities ; one objec- 
 tion is, and it is an insuperable one, that electrical 
 shocks are ever momentary, by every experiment, 
 but earthquakes are felt for several minutes. An- 
 other is, that many towns have been swallowed up 
 in earthquakes, though Lisbon was only overthrown. 
 Such was the case of the city of Callao, within two 
 leagues of Lima. Though Lima was only tumbled 
 into ruins, October 28, 1746; yet Callao sunk down- 
 right with all its inhabitants, and an unfathomable 
 sea now covers the finest port in Peru, as I have seen 
 on the spot. In the earthquake at Jamaica, June 7, 
 1692, in which several thousands perished, it is cer- 
 tain, that not only many houses, and a great number 
 of people, were entirely swallowed up ; but that, 
 at many of the gapings or openings of the earthy 
 torrents of water that formed great rivers, issued 
 forth. This I had from a man of veracity then on 
 the spot, who was an eye-witness of these things, 
 and expected himself every minute to descend to 
 the bowels of the earth, which heaved and swelled 
 like a rolling sea. Now to me the electrical stroke 
 does not appear sufficient to produce these things. 
 The power of electricity, to be sure is vast and 
 amazing. It may cause great tremors and undula- 
 tions of the earth, and bring down all the buildings 
 of a great city: but as to splitting the earth to
 
 174 , THE LIFE OF 
 
 great depths, and forcing up torrents of water, 
 where there was no sign of the fluid element before, 
 I question much if the vehemence of the elemental 
 electric fire does this. Beside, when mountains and 
 cities sink into the earth, and the deepest lakes are 
 now seen to fill all the place where they once stood, 
 as has been the case in many countries, where could 
 these mighty waters come, but from the abyss? 
 The great lake Oroquantur in Pegu, was once a 
 vast city. In Jamaica, there is a large deep lake 
 where once a mountain stood. In an earthquake in 
 China, in the province of Sanci, deluges of water 
 burst out of the earth, Feb. 7, 1556, and inundated 
 the country for 180 miles. Many more instances 
 of this kind I might produce, exclusive of Sodom, 
 the ground of which was inundated by an irruption 
 of waters from beneath, which now forms the dead 
 sea; after the city was destroyed by fire from above; 
 that the land which had been defiled with the unna- 
 tural lusts of the inhabitants might be no more 
 inhabited, but remain a lasting monument of the 
 divine vengeance on such crimes, to the end of the 
 world ; and the use I would make of those I have 
 mentioned, is to show that these mighty waters were 
 from the furious concussion of the abyss that caused 
 the earthquakes. Electricity, I think, can never 
 make seas and vast lakes to be where there were
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 175 
 
 none before. Locherne, in the county of Ferma- 
 nagh, in the province of Ulster in Ireland, is thirty 
 three miles long, and fourteen broad, and as the old 
 Irish Chronicle informs us, was once a place where 
 large and populous towns appeared, till for the great 
 iniquity of the inhabitants, the people and their fair 
 habitations were destroyed in an earthquake, and 
 mighty waters from the earth covered the place, and 
 formed this lake. Could the electrical stroke pro- 
 duce this sea that was not to be found there before 
 the destruction ? Is it not more reasonable to sup- 
 pose, that such vast waters have been forced by a 
 supernatural commotion from the great abyss, in the 
 earthquake that destroyed the towns which once 
 stood in this place? 
 
 To this then, till I am better informed, I must 
 ascribe such earthquakes as produce great rivers 
 and lakes ; and where no waters appear, I believe 
 the earthquakes are caused by the immediate finger 
 of God; either operating on the abyss, though not 
 so as to make the water break out on the earth ; or 
 by directing the electrical violence or stroke ; or 
 otherwise acting on the ruined cities and shattered 
 places. 
 
 For my part, I think it is a grievous mistake in 
 our philosophical enquiries, to assign so much to 
 second causes as the learned do. The government
 
 i:(; TfiF, LiFF. or 
 
 of the universe is given to matter and motion, and 
 under pretence of extolling original contrivance, the 
 execution of all is left to dead substance. It is just 
 and reasonable, in which even Newton and M'Lau- 
 rin agree, to suppose that the whole chain of causes, 
 or the several series of them, should centre in him, 
 as their source and fountain ; and the whole system 
 appear depending upon him, the only independent 
 cause. Now to me this supposition does not appear 
 either just or reasonable. I think the noble pheeno- 
 mena of nature ought to be ascribed to the imme- 
 diate operation of the Deity. Without looking for 
 a subtile elastic medium, to produce gravity; which 
 medium Sir Isaac confesses he had no proof of; nor 
 is there in reality such a thing in the universe ; I 
 imagine the divine Newton would have done better, 
 if, after establishing the true system by nature, by 
 demonstrating the law of gravity, he had said this 
 gravity was the constant and undeniable evidence 
 of the immediate influence of the Deity in the mate- 
 rial universe. A series of material causes betwixt 
 Deity and effect, is, in truth, concealing him from 
 the knowledge of mortals for ever. In the moral 
 government of the world, second causes do, because 
 free-agents acts a part ; but, in the material uni- 
 verse to apply them, to me seems improper, as mat- 
 ter and motion only, that is, mechanism, come in
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 1*7 
 
 competition with the Deity. Most certainly he con- 
 stantly interposes. The divine power is perpetually 
 put forth throughout all nature. Every particle of 
 matter, must necessarily, by its nature, for ever go 
 wrong, without the continued act of Deity. His ever- 
 lasting interposition only can cause a body moving in 
 a circle to change the direction of its motion in every 
 point. Nor is it possible for subtile matter, the sup- 
 posed cause of gravity, to know to impel bodies to a 
 centre, with quadruple force at half the distance. 
 
 And as in gravity, and in the cohesion of the 
 parts of matter, the Deity is, and acts in the motion 
 of the celestial bodies, and in the resistance the least 
 particles make to any force that would separate 
 them ; so is his immediate power, I think for ray- 
 self, exerted not only in earthquakes and tides, but 
 in the circulations of the blood, lymph, and chyle, 
 in muscular motion, and in various other pheenoraena 
 that might be named. Books I know have l)een 
 written, and ingenious books they are, to shew the 
 causes of these things, and trace the ways they are 
 performed by the materials themselves ; but these 
 explications never satisfied me. I had as manv 
 ques;ions to ask, after reading these books, as I had 
 before I looked into them, and could find no operator 
 but infinite power, conducted by infinite wisdom. 
 
 As to the force of the moon, in raising tides, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and, that spring tides are produced by the sum of 
 the actions of the two luminaries, when the moon is 
 in Syzygy, there is much fine mathematical reason- 
 ing to prove it, which the reader may find in Dr. 
 Halley's abstract of Sir Isaac Newton's Theory of 
 the Tides J and in Dr. Rutherforth's System of 
 Natural Philosophy -, but nevertheless, the concomi- 
 tance of water and luminary, or the revolutions of 
 ocean and moon answering one another so exactly, 
 that the flow always happens when the moon hangs 
 over the ocean, and the spring tides when it is 
 nearer the earth, which is supposed to be in the new 
 and full moon ; this does not prove to me, that the 
 periodical flux and reflux of the sea is derived from 
 mechanism. As we have two ebbs and two flows in 
 twenty-four hours, and the moon comes but once in 
 that time to our meridian, how can the second ebb 
 and flow be ascribed to it? and when, beneath the 
 horizon, in the opposite hemisphere, the moon 
 crosses the meridian again, is it credible, that from 
 the eastern and southern ocean, round Good Hope 
 and Cape Horn, it should as soon overflow our 
 coasts, as when it is vertical to the shores of 
 Guinea? If the moon, in conjunction with the sun, 
 by pression and attraction, was the principal cause 
 of flux and reflux, why is there no established tide on 
 the Mediterranean sea, though of a vast breadth.
 
 JOHX £UNCLE, ESQ. 179 
 
 and two thousand miles in length from the Streights 
 of Gibraltar to the coasts of Syria and Palestine ; 
 but only some irregular and unaccountable swellings 
 and falls in a few places of this sea, to wit, at Tunis, 
 Messina, Venice, and Negropont ; and these swel- 
 lings, as I have seen, flowing sometimes four, five, 
 six or seven, and eight times in twenty-four hours ; 
 in the most irregular manner; against the fixed 
 laws of pression and attraction, ascribed to the moon 
 and sun, on a supposition of their causing the tides ? 
 If pression, and the strong attractive power of the 
 moon, and the weaker influence of the sun, forces 
 the immense ocean twice a day from its natural 
 quietus, and rolls it in tides, why has the Caspian 
 sea no tide ; no swelling or flow, regular or irre- 
 gular, excepting that sometimes, in the space of 
 sixteen years, and never sooner, it rises many 
 fathoms, and drowns the adjacent country; to the 
 almost ruin, sometimes of Astracan in Asiatic Rus- 
 sia ; as happened when I was there to embark for 
 Persia? If it be said, that this is properly a lake, 
 having: no communication with the ocean ; yet, 1 
 answer, tljat it is in every quality of saltness, &c. 
 as much a sea as any other sea; and large enough 
 for the luminaries attraction and pression; being 
 five hundred miles from north to south, and near 
 four hundred miles in breadth from east to west : I
 
 180 THE LIFE OF 
 
 say, large enough to avoid continuing necessarily in 
 equilibrio, as Dr. Rutherforth says must be the case, 
 on account of the small extent of this sea. Five 
 hundred by four hundred miles of sea does not re- 
 quire that such a sea should press equally, or that 
 the gravity of its water should be equally diminished 
 in every part of it, and so out of the powers, additi- 
 tious and ablatitious, of the luminary ; that is, the 
 force, with which the moon encreases the waters 
 gravity, and the force, with which the moon dimi- 
 nishes the waters gravity. If the moon in zenith or 
 nadir did the work, the equilibrium of the Caspian 
 might be destroyed, as well as any other equilibrium 
 of water, by force, addititious or ablatitious, or by 
 the sum of these forces ; therefore, there might, by 
 this theory, be tides in the Caspian sea, though not 
 great ones. There are small as well as great tides. 
 The tides of the Atlantic ocean are inferior in every 
 respect to those of the larger Pacific ocean. A 
 quarter of a great circle of the earth, that is, an ex- 
 tent of ocean from east to west 90<^, is only required, 
 that the tides may have their full motion. A tide of 
 less motion may be in such an extent of sea as the 
 Caspian. 
 
 In the last place, how does the Theory of Tides 
 account for the regular peculiarity of the flux and 
 reflux of the Atlantic, different from all other tides ;
 
 JOHN BUN CLE, ESQ. 181 
 
 while at Bathsha in the kingdom of Tunquin, there 
 never is more than one tide in twenty-four hours ; 
 and some days no tide ? For my part, I resolve the 
 whole into the immediate power of the Deity. This 
 power is gravity, attraction, repulse. The inactivity 
 of matter requires the constancy and universality of 
 divine power to support the material universe, and 
 move it as occasion requires; that is, as infinite 
 wisdom sees most conducive to the benefit of his 
 creation. 
 
 Men of fine imagination may make a wonderful 
 display of mathematical learning in accounts of 
 gravity, &c. combined with principles of mechanism ; 
 and electricity, which is, called the immediate ofiBcer 
 of God Almighty; but the truth is, a constant repe- 
 tition of divine acts in regular and irregular motions 
 of the earth and the seas. The finger of God moves 
 the land and the waters. 
 
 In the case of earthquakes, as electricity, or 
 aerial power, is insufficient to produce them in my 
 opinion, for two reasons before given; to wit, that 
 the electrical stroke is ever single and momentary, 
 but the vibrations of the earth, in a quake, are often 
 three and four minutes, and have held to seven 
 minutes, and that, besides the swelling and trem- 
 bling of the earth, it has so opened at those times, as 
 to swallow not only houses and people, but even
 
 18*2 THE LIFE or 
 
 mountains, and to send forth great rivers and vast 
 waters. And, as subterranean fire and vapour, I 
 think, can never do such work, for many reasons 
 that may be offered, we must, 1 think, ascribe the 
 earthquakes to the immediate impression of divine 
 power; by which a city is tumbled into ruins in 
 three or four minutes, in the sad manner Lisbon was 
 destroyed the first of November, 1755, or, the water 
 of the great abyss is with such violence moved, that 
 it shakes the arches of the earth, and where infinite 
 wisdom directs, is enabled by Almighty Power to 
 open the globe with tremendous noises, and pour forth 
 vast torrents of water, to cover a land where once a 
 flourishing city has stood. The electric stroke can- 
 not be more dreadful than such exertion of omni- 
 potence. The immediate action of the Deity, to 
 destroy, must be as efficacious surely as any subor- 
 dinate agent or cause : and it must be more terrible 
 to the mind; as there can be no supposition of acci- 
 dent in ruin this way : but we see as it were the 
 almighty arm, exerting an irresistible force, that 
 could in the same few moments that a large town 
 and its inhabitants are destroyed, shake the whole 
 world into one dreadful ruin, or separate it into 
 nothing. To my apprehension, the aerial power of 
 electricity is not so fearfully striking, as the Crea- 
 tor's appearing, on the spot, to shake terribly the
 
 JOHN BDNCLE, ESQ. 183 
 
 earth : and if we consider, that it is on account of 
 sin, that God resigns his omnipotence to his wrath, 
 and commands his whole displeasure to arise, must 
 not this account of an earthquake have the greatest 
 tendency to reform the manners of the surviving 
 people ? 
 
 As to muscular motion, if it be rightly considered, 
 it appears very plainly to proceed from a living 
 force, impressed ab extra ; that mechanism does not 
 act as cause in this affair ; but the divine power acts 
 in the case, as it does in many different places of 
 the human body at once, and with inexpressible 
 variety. 
 
 Various are the accounts that learned men have 
 given of muscular motion, and ingenious are their 
 reasonings on the subject : but they are not satis- 
 factory, nor do they at all explain the thing, and 
 account for it. What is a muscle ? 
 
 It is to be sure a bundle of small blood vessels, 
 consisting of arteries and their returning veins, laid 
 one upon another in their parallel plates, running 
 through the whole length of the muscle ; and at small 
 intervals, these blood vessels, or longitudinal red and 
 fleshy fibres, are contorted and bound about with small 
 transverse, and spiral ramifications and twinings of 
 the nerves. This is a muscle : it has two ends, or 
 tendons, fastened to two bones, one of which is fixed,
 
 184 Tilt LIFE Gl- 
 
 and the other moveable; and by the contraction of 
 the muscle, the moveable bone is drawn upon its 
 fulcrum towards a fixed point. This is indisputable ; 
 and it is likewise certain, that the muscles are to be 
 distinguished into those of voluntary, and those of 
 natural or necessary motion : that the voluntary 
 muscles have antagonists, which act alternately in a 
 contrary direction, that is are contracted by the 
 command of the will, while the others are stretched, 
 and again are extended, while the others contracted : 
 but the necessary muscles have contracting and ex- 
 tending powers within themselves, and need no 
 antagonists. 
 
 This being the true state of the muscles, the 
 question is, what causes that elasticity, spring, or 
 power of contraction and restoration, which their 
 nervous coats and fibres have, to recover themselves 
 against a given weight or force that stretches them ? 
 The reply is, that many unanswerable reasons can 
 be given to prove, that this contractive restitutive 
 force does not depend on the mixture, effervescence, 
 or rarefaction of any fluids, humours, or liquors 
 within the body ; and there is one convincing expe- 
 riment that shews it. 
 
 Lay open the thorax of a dog, as 1 have often 
 done; and take a distinct view of that famous mus- 
 cle, the heart, in its curious and wonderful motion,.
 
 JOH>J BUNCLE, £SQ. 18') 
 
 while the animal is still alive. In diastole, the mus- 
 cle is very red and florid, soft and yielding to the 
 touch, and through it the vital fluid glows and 
 shines ; it appears in this state fully replenished and 
 distended with blood ; but in systole, as soon as it 
 begins to contract, and the blood rushes out by the 
 compression of the contracting fibres, the heart loses 
 its florid colour, and becomes pale and lived, com- 
 pact and solid, and evinces that, during this state 
 of it, the muscle contracts inwardly into its own 
 dense substance, and takes up less space than be- 
 fore, till it returns to its diastole; then the blood 
 which flowed from it with velocity, during systole 
 through the coronary veins into the auricles, rushes 
 back into it through the coronary arteries, restores 
 the glowing florid colour, and inflates the muscle, in 
 order to strain the nerves for the next contraction. 
 It is plain from hence, that the heart has less blood 
 and fluid in time of contraction, and that the con- 
 traction is not caused by the addition of another 
 fluid from the nerves, as the learned have asserted. 
 And as to what they say of the longitudinal 
 fibres being divided into innumerable little cells or 
 bladders, which have communications with the blood 
 vessels and nerves, and that in these vesicles, the blood 
 and nervous fluid mix, ferment, and byrarefaction and 
 expansion, swell and blow up the cells, and thereby
 
 186 THE LIIE OF 
 
 inflate and distend the muscle, and increase its 
 thickness, while its length is shortened ; this is so 
 perplexed and unreasonable an hypothesis, that I 
 am astonished how men of sense ever came to think 
 of such a doctrine. There is no such nervous fluid 
 to be found, to cause this fermentation, rarefaction, 
 &c. ; and if there was, expansive force must lengthen 
 as well as thicken, and the muscle could not be 
 shortened in length, and swelled in thickness. The 
 natural action of the fluids upon the solids is, to in- 
 crease dimensions proportionably every way, that is, 
 in the direction of the axis and conjugate diameter 
 equally. Beside, if there was expansion, circula- 
 tion must stop. The distention of the vesicles, and 
 the rapid exit of the rarifying fluid could not be at 
 once. 
 
 The plain account of the matter is then, that 
 muscular motion is performed by the elasticity of 
 the nervous fibrill?e, contracting and restoring them- 
 selves against the stretching force of the circulating 
 blood. The contraction of the muscle straitens and 
 compresses the blood-vessels, and forces the blood 
 with impetuosity through the heart ; and this 
 squeezing or propelling force gives the fluid an im- 
 petus, that makes it return with violence upon the 
 muscles, in the course of its circulation; then by 
 force and impulse, it stretches the transverse and
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 187 
 
 spiral nervous fibres, and so extends the contracted 
 muscle, that drove it by contraction from itself. 
 Upon this, the blood-vessels having obtained their 
 due extent and capacity, the distending force of the 
 blood of consequence ceases : but the moment it 
 does, the contractive power of the nerves begins to 
 act again, and restores them to a contracted dense 
 state, by a force exactly equal to that which ex- 
 tended them ; till the returning propelled blood re- 
 enters the muscle, and stretches it again, as before 
 described. Such are the two wonderful counter- 
 forces that produce the natural involuntary motion 
 of the heart, and carry on the circulation of the 
 blood. You see with your eyes, in the opened live 
 dog this alternate contraction and extension ; and as 
 the stretching power is but a consequence of the 
 contracting power, contraction is the spring of this 
 wonderful action, in which our will or free agency 
 has no concern. And to what shall we ascribe 
 this astonishing operation, this amazing contractive 
 power, so exactly as to time, and so constantly con- 
 tinued on the muscles of natural or necessary mo- 
 tion; till the aequilibrium by some means or other 
 be broken, and the motion is preternaturally inter- 
 rupted and suspended ? Will the great mechanical 
 reasoners say, that matter does this wonder — matter,
 
 188 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that is blind and impotent? Stuff: we must ascribe 
 to a cause wise and powerful, not only the original 
 contrivance of the thing, but the execution of this 
 extraordinary scene. While you gaze upon this 
 noblest muscle of the dog, you see the Deity at 
 work. 
 
 And if we turn our eyes from the muscles of 
 mere natural involuntary motion, which performs by 
 a contracting power acting within them ; to those 
 muscles which move the bones and members of our 
 bodies, by the command of the will, how adorable 
 is the wisdom and goodness of the Almighty Author 
 of nature, not only in providing the animal machine 
 with antagonistical muscles, one of which is con- 
 tracted, while the other is extended ; but for stimu- 
 lating, contracting, and compressing the nervous 
 elastic cords and blood-vessels, as our minds com- 
 mand or determine! there is no possibility of ac- 
 counting for the directions at pleasure of the anta- 
 gonistic muscles, but by resolving them into the 
 continual presence and action of the first cause. 
 He enforces and executes. It is the active prin- 
 ciple gives energy and motion both to voluntary 
 and necessary muscles. This, I think, is the truth 
 of philosophy. To suppose every thing to be effect 
 without cause, is to reduce religion and philosophy
 
 JOHN BUXCLF., ESQ. 189 
 
 to the same desperate state. It destroys all the 
 principles of reason, as well as of virtue and moral 
 conduct. 
 
 To say all that can be said, in as few words as 
 possible, upon this article, it is not only the muscu- 
 lar motion, necessary and spontaneous,* that is 
 
 * That even spontaneous motion is performed by the 
 divine power, is proved in the first part of a most excel- 
 lent book, entitled. An Enquiry into the Nature of the 
 Human Soul, [by John Baxter, the third and best edition 
 was printed in two volumes, 8vo, in 1745 ; a third fol- 
 lowed in 1750.] I shall only observe here that motion is 
 spontaneous, as it is begun and ended by the living being 
 itself, without physical necessity : but it is above the 
 power and knowledge of the spontaneous being, as it is 
 performed mechanically : the motive power is immedi- 
 ately impressed by the Creator, who is the only mover, 
 as well as the first mover. How adorable is this conde- 
 scension ! the Creator exerts his power in consequence 
 of the spontaneity of his living creatures ! But is not 
 this low work for the supreme Lord of heaven and earth, 
 says the mechanical reasoner? No. Lowness of work is 
 not applicable to the Creator of all things. He is as 
 much the Creator of the meanest insect, as of the highest 
 intelligence. It is his perpetual power, exerted in 
 cohesion, that keeps all the parts of matter in the bodies 
 of living creatures together. Philosophy cannot be hurt 
 by admitting his power. His omnipotence is displayed
 
 190 THE LIFE OF 
 
 caused by the action of the Deity ; but the constant 
 motions in the stomach, lungs, intestines, and other 
 parts of the body, are caused by an acting Divine 
 Power, It can be demonstrated, that in the action of 
 soft bodies upon soft bodies, the motion is always di- 
 minished ; and of consequence it must be greatly les- 
 sened in the yielding softness of the flesh and fluids 
 of animal bodies. We see how soon water settles, 
 after motion imprest, by the bare attrition of its parts 
 on one another ; although it has no obstacles to en- 
 counter, or narrow passages to move through. What 
 then can we think of motion in such narrow twining 
 meanders, as veins, arteries, intestines, and lacteal 
 vessels, through which the fluids of animal bodies 
 are conveyed to parts innumerable ? while the blood, 
 lymph, and chyle creep through such narrow wind- 
 ing vessels, the whole motion of those fluids must 
 be consumed every instant by the attrition of their 
 parts, and the force of consequence be renewed 
 every instant. Here is a perpetual miracle. The 
 Divine Power urges on these fluids ten thousand 
 ways at once. Reason must confess a miraculous 
 
 to our senses in the most despicable weed of the field as 
 well as in the ]>rig'ht rolling- orbs of heaven. In calling- 
 such things low work, we forget what infinite power im- 
 plies, and what infinite goodness prompts.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ, 191 
 
 power indesinently and variously put forth in our 
 bodies ; while ignorance and vanity in vain attempts 
 to account mechanically for the circulation of those 
 fluids. We are not only fearfully and wonderfully 
 formed in the womb, but fearfully and wonder- 
 fully preserved every minute ! creating- power never 
 ceases.* 
 
 The conclusion of tlie matter is, that the plain 
 argument for the existence of a Deity, obvious to all, 
 and carrying irresistible conviction with it, is from 
 the evident contrivance and fitness of thing-s to one 
 another, which we meet w^ith through all the parts of 
 the universe. There is no need of nice and subtile 
 reasoning in this matter : a manifest contrivance 
 
 * Should it be asked, why was such an intricate 
 structure of such materials employed, or such a labo- 
 rious method contrived, by the organization of dead 
 matter, if it no way serves to produce motion, but rather 
 consumes the force impressed ? the answer is, that this 
 consuming mechanism is no inconvenience in natm'e, if 
 we consider who renews the motive power. We are 
 forced to be frugal of our little power: but this is not 
 applicable to the Deity- The governing power of the 
 Deity is creating power. Beings made up of matter and 
 spirit require such a supplying power, and in the various 
 work God instructs his rational beings, and displays his 
 omnipotence in wisdom and action.
 
 192 THE LIFE OF 
 
 immediately suggests a contriver. It strikes like a 
 sensation, and artful reasonings against it may 
 puzzle us, but it is without shaking our belief. No 
 person, for example, who knows the principles of 
 optics, and the structure of the eye, can believe that 
 it is formed without skill in that science ; or that 
 the ear was formed without the knowledge of sounds. 
 This is a just argument, and forces our assent. But 
 the great M'Laurin should not have stop'd here. 
 The plain argument for the existence of a Deity 
 grows stronger, when we add to it what is as evident 
 as divine contrivance, to wit, the constant interposi- 
 tion of God, to support and move his creatures. 
 Original contrivance in the works of the creation is 
 adorable. We are certain, demonstratively certain, 
 that the heavens, the land, and the waters, and all 
 the creatures in them contained, are the works of 
 the living God ; but it is the present performance 
 that strikes us like a sensation. With inexpressible 
 pleasure we see creating power with our eyes. 
 Which ever way we turn them, we behold Almighty 
 Power employed, and continually acting under the 
 direction of infinite knowledge. 
 
 Since things are so, and all the works of nature, 
 in the common voice of reason, declare the power 
 and wisdom of the Creator, and speak his goodness 
 in the innumerable mighty things he continually per-
 
 JOHiV BUNGLE, ESQ, 193 
 
 forms for our preservation and happiness, the con- 
 templation of them should warm our hearts with the 
 glory of the Almighty, and make us continually 
 praise and adore that Almighty providence, which 
 formed and sustains not only the human race, and 
 this terrestrial globe, but numberless other worlds 
 and their inhabitants, that hang in infinite space 
 These mighty things displayed, ought surely to pro- 
 duce the most devout prayers, and songs of praises 
 in no common strain ; and especially, if we add to 
 those works of nature, that second creation, the 
 still greater work of grace. Such omnipotence in 
 wisdom and action, and such amazing goodness as 
 we see in the christian gospel, should, I think, en- 
 gage us to love and adore so great and good a 
 Being as our Creator, and induce us to devote our 
 lives to him. 
 
 For my part, when I consider the mighty scene 
 and prospect of nature, and turn my thoughts from 
 thence to God's word, that heavenly law, which 
 directs our will and informs our reason, and teaches 
 us in all things how to pursue our own happiness, I 
 am 80 struck with a sense of infinite wisdom, good- 
 ness, and action, that* I cannot help extoling the 
 king of the universe for the greatness of his power 
 and mercy, and am necessarily engaged in a scene 
 of praise and devotion. Indeed the heart must be as 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE LIFK OF 
 
 hard and cold as marble, that does not glow, nor is 
 inflamed with adoration to the great author of all 
 things ; after viewing with attention even one parti- 
 cular only in the works of nature, that material sun, 
 which now shines out with light and beauty to ani- 
 mate and refresh the world ; and in the creation of 
 grace, that sun of righteousness, who sheds forth 
 the choicest blessings of Heaven upon the inhabi- 
 tants of the earth. Can we be silent, who behold 
 and enjoy those things ! alas ! too many can. Neither 
 the heavens, which declare the glory of God, nor 
 the days of the gospel, nor the righteousness of the 
 new law are regarded by them. But the wise will 
 ever join with all their hearts, in the most exalted 
 prayer and praise, and adore the giver of those 
 good and perfect gifts ; for all his blessings vouch- 
 safed us ; and especially, for the charter of his par- 
 don granted by his blessed Son, and the promises 
 of everlasting happiness and glory in a life to come, 
 reason must declare it just to offer up religious 
 praise, and make the greatest mental and moral im- 
 provement we can in this first state. 
 
 Another extraordinary thing I saw in the place I 
 have mentioned, was a water on the top of a hill, 
 which stood at the other end of the lake, and was 
 full as high as the mountain, from the side of which, 
 the water poured into the lake. This loch measured
 
 JOHN i;UNCLE, ESQ. . 195 
 
 three quarters of a mile in length, and half a mile 
 over. The water appeared as black as ink, but in a 
 glass it was clear as other water, and bright in run- 
 ning down. It tasted sweet and good. At one 
 end, it runs over its rocky bank, and in several 
 noisy cascades, falls down the face of the mountain 
 to a deep bottom, where a river is formed, that is 
 seen for a considerable way, as it wanders along. 
 The whole is a striking scene. The swarthy loch, 
 the noisy descending streams, clumps of aged trees 
 on the mountain's side, and the various shores and 
 vallies below, afford an uncommon view. It was a 
 fine change of ground, to ascend from the beautiful 
 lake, encompassed with mountains, and adorned 
 with trees, into which was poured from a gaping 
 precipice, a torrent of streLims; and see from the 
 reverse of an opposite hill, an impetuous flood de- 
 scending from the top to the finest points of view in 
 the wildest glens below. 
 
 What line I had with me, for experiments on 
 waters and holes, I applied to this loch, to discover 
 the depth, but with three hundred yards of whipcord 
 my lead could reach no ground, and from thence, 
 and the blackness of the water, and the great issuing 
 stream, i concluded^ justly I think, that it went 
 down to the great abyss, the vast treasury of waters 
 within the earth. Many such unfatliomable lochs
 
 196 THE LIFE OF 
 
 as this have I seen on the summits of mountains in 
 various parts of the world, and from them, I suppose, 
 the greatest part of that deluge of waters came that 
 drowned the old world. This leads me to say some- 
 thing of the flood. 
 
 Many books have been written in relation to this 
 affair, and while some contend for the overflowing 
 of the whole earth to a very great height of waters, 
 and some for a partial deluge only, others will not 
 allow there was any at all. The divine authority of 
 Moses they disregard. For my part I believe the 
 flood was universal, and that all the high hills and 
 mountains under the whole heaven, were covered. 
 The cause was forty days heavy rain, and such an 
 agitaion of the abyss, by the finger of God, as not 
 only broke up the great deep, to pour out water at 
 many places, but forced it out of such bottomless 
 lochs as this I am speaking of on the mountain's top, 
 and from various swallows in many places. This 
 removes every objection from the case of the deluge, 
 and gives water enough in the space of one hundred 
 and fifty days, or five months of thirty days each, 
 to over-top the highest mountains by fifteen cubits, 
 the height designed. The abyss in strong commo- 
 tion, or violent uproar, by a power divine, could 
 shake the incumbent globe to pieces in a few 
 minutes, and bury the whole ruins in the deep. To
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. I97 
 
 me, then, all the reasoning against the deluge, or for 
 a partial flood appear sad stuff. Were this one 
 loch in Stanemore to pour out torrents of water, 
 down every side, for five months, by a divine force 
 on part of the abyss, as it might very easily, by such 
 means do, the inundation would cover a great part 
 of this land ; and if from every loch of the kind on 
 the summits of mountains, the waters in like manner, 
 with the greatest violence, flowed from every side out 
 of the abyss, and that exclusive of the heavy rains, 
 an earthquake should open some parts of the ground 
 to let more water out of the great collection, and 
 the seas and oceans surpass their natural bounds, 
 by the winds forcing them over the earth, then 
 would a universal flood very soon prevail. There 
 is water enough for the purpose, and as to the super- 
 natural ascent of them, natural and supernatural 
 are nothing at all different with respect to God. 
 They are distinctions merely in our conceptions of 
 things. Regularly to move the sun or earth ; and 
 to stop its motion for a day ; to make the waters 
 that covered the whole earth at the creation, de- 
 scend into the several receptacles prepared for them; 
 and at the deluge to make them ascend again to 
 cover the whole earth, are the effect of one and the 
 same almighty Power ; though we call one natural,
 
 198 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and the other supernatural. The one is the effect 
 of no greater power than the other. With respect 
 to God, one is not more or less natural or super- 
 natural than the other. 
 
 But how the waters of the deluge were drawn off 
 at the end of the five months, is another question 
 among the learned. The ingenious Keill, who 
 wrote against the two ingenious theorists, says the 
 thing is not at all accountable in any natural way ; 
 the draining off, and drying of the earth, of such a 
 huge column of waters could only be effected by 
 the power of God: natural causes both in decrease 
 and the increase of the waters must have been vastly 
 disproportionate to the effects ; and to miracles 
 they must be ascribed. This, I think, is as far from 
 the truth, as the theorists ascribing both increase 
 and decrease to natural causes. God was the per- 
 former to be sure in the flood and the going off, but 
 he made use of natural causes in both, that is, of 
 the things he had in the beginning created. The 
 natural causes he is the author of were at hand, and 
 with them he could do the work. The sun evapo- 
 rated ; the winds dried; and the waters no longer 
 forced upwards from the abyss, subsided into the 
 many swallows or swallow-holes, that are still to be 
 seen in many places, on mountains and in vallies ;
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 199^ 
 
 those on the mountains being necessary to absorb 
 that vast column of waters which rose fifteen cubits 
 above the highest hills. 
 
 A swallow is such another opening in the 
 ground as Eldine Hole in Derbyshire,* and in tra- 
 velling from the Peak to the northern extremity of 
 Northumberland, I have seen many such holes in 
 the earth, both on the hills and in the vales. I have 
 likewise met with them in other countries. By these 
 swallows, a vast quantity of the waters to be sure 
 
 • Eldine- Hole in Derly shire is a mile south of Mam lorr, 
 aud four miles east of Buxton. It is a perpendicular 
 gulph or chasm, which I tried to fathom more than once, 
 and sound it by my line, and by the measure of sound at 
 the rate of sixteen feet one twelfth in one second the 
 measure Dr. Halley allows near the earth for the descent 
 of heavy bodies ; to be one thousand two hundred and 
 sixty-six feet, or four hundred and twenty-two yards 
 down to the water ; but how deep the water is cannot be 
 kno^vn. I suppose it reaches to the abyss. This chasm 
 is forty yards long above ground, and ten over at its 
 broadest part : but from the day there is a sloping de- 
 scent of forty yards to the mouth of the horrible pit, and 
 this is only four yards long and one and a half broad. 
 Two villains who were executed at Derby not long ago, 
 confessed at the gallows, that they threw a poor traveller 
 into this dreadful gulph, after they had robbed him.
 
 IOC THE LIFE OF 
 
 went down to the great receptacle ; all that was not 
 exhaled, or licked up by the winds ; or, except what 
 might be left to increase the former seas of the ante- 
 diluvian world into those vast oceans which now 
 encompass the globe, and partly to form those 
 vast lakes that are in several parts of the world. 
 These things easily account for the removal of that 
 vast mass of waters which covered the earth, and 
 was in a mighty column above the highest hills. 
 Every difficulty disappears before evaporation, the 
 drying winds, the swallows, and perhaps the turn- 
 ing seas into oceans ; but the three first things now 
 named were sufficient, and the gentlemen who have 
 reasoned so ingeniously against one another about 
 the removal of the waters, might have saved them^. 
 selves a deal of trouble, if they had reduced the 
 operation to three simple things, under the direction 
 of the first cause. The swallows especially must do 
 great work in the case, if we take into their number 
 not only very many open gulphs or chasms, the 
 depth of which no line or sound can reach ; but 
 likewise the communications of very many parts of 
 the sea, and of many great unfathomable lochs, 
 with the abyss. These absorbers could easily re- 
 ceive what had before come out of them. The sun 
 by evaporation, with the wind, might take away 
 what was raised. There is nothing hard then in
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 501 
 
 conceiving how the waters of the deluge were 
 brought away. 
 
 But as to the lake I have raentioned, into which 
 a rapid flood poured from the bowels of the moun- 
 tain, what became of this water the reader may en- 
 quire. To be sure, as it did not run off in any 
 streams, nor make the lake rise in the least degree, 
 there must have been a communication in some 
 parts of its bottom, between the water of it and the 
 abyss. As the loch on the top of the mountain I 
 have described had no feeders, yet emitted streams, 
 and therefore must be supported by the abyss; so 
 this lake, with so powerful a feeder, not running 
 over, or emitting water any way, must discharge it- 
 self in the abyss below. The case of it must be the 
 same as that of the Caspian Sea. Into this sea 
 many rivers pour, and one in particular, the Volga 
 I mean, that is more than sufficient, in the quantity 
 of water it turns out in a year, to drown the whole 
 world. Yet the Caspian remains in one state, and 
 does not overflow its banks, excepting, as before ob- 
 served, sometimes in the space of sixteen years. It 
 must by passages communicate with the great deep. 
 It refunds the rivers into the great abyss. The case 
 of the Mediterranean sea is the same ; for, though a 
 strong current irom the Atlantic continually sets 
 through the Strait of Gibraltar, yet these waters do
 
 202 THE LIFE OF 
 
 not make it. overflow the country round it, and, of 
 consequence, they must be carried off by a subter- 
 ranean passage, or passages, to the abyss. 
 
 From the lake I proceeded the next morning, 
 June 14, 1725, toward the north-east end of West- 
 morland, having passed the night in a sound sleep 
 under the trees by the water-side, but was forced by 
 the precipices to shape my course from four in the 
 morning till eight, to the north-west, and then the 
 road turned east-north-east, till I came to a great 
 glen, where a river made a rumbling noise over 
 rocks and inequalities of many kinds, and formed a 
 very wild, wonderful scene. The river was broad 
 and deep, and on an easy descent to it, was an as- 
 semblage of stones, that ran in length about a hun- 
 dred feet, in breadth thirty feet, and somewhat 
 resembling the giant's causeway, in the county of 
 Antrim, and province of Ulster, in Ireland; nine 
 miles north-east from the pretty town of Colerain. 
 The giant's causeway, reader, is a prodigious pile of 
 rocks, eighty feet broad, twenty feet above the rest 
 of the strand, and that run from the bottom of a 
 high hill above two hundred yards into the ocean. 
 
 The assemblage of stones I am speaking of are 
 columns with several corners, that rise three yards 
 above the ground and are joined as if done by art ; 
 the points being convex and concave, and thereby
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 203 
 
 lying one in another. These columns have five and 
 six sides, a few of them seven ; and a number of 
 them nicely and exactly placed together make one 
 large pillar from one foot to two in diameter. They 
 are so nicely joined, that although they have five 
 and six sides, as I before said, yet their contexture 
 is so adapted, as to leave no vacuity between them ; 
 the prominent angles of one pillar fitting, and fall- 
 ing exactly into the hollows left them between two 
 others, and the plain sides exactly answer to one 
 another ; so that those hexagons and pentagons of 
 columnar marble appear as if finished by the hands 
 of the most masterly workmen. All the pillars 
 stood exactly perpendicular to the plane of the 
 horizon. 
 
 Doctor Foley, in No. 212, of the Philosophical 
 Transactions f speaking of the giant's causeway, 
 seems to think these wonderful pillars are com- 
 posed of the common sort of craggy rock by the sea 
 side ; and the authors of the Complete System of 
 Geography are of opinion, they resemble the lapis 
 basaltes ; but some think they are a sort of mar- 
 ble. Now the truth is, the baslates of the antients 
 is a very elegant and beautiful marble of a fine deep 
 glossy black, like high polished steel, and is always 
 found erect in the form of regular angular columns, 
 composed of a number of joints, fitted together, and
 
 204 THE LIFE OF 
 
 making pillars ; so that where such pillars are seen, 
 they are undoubtedly the columnar marble, or touch- 
 stone of the antients. Dr. John Hill, in his History 
 of FossilSj gives a good account of the nature of 
 this body, and mentions several places it is to be 
 found in ; but seems not to have heard there was 
 any of it among the northern mountains of our 
 country. 
 
 This marble is one of the noblest productions of 
 nature, and of all the fossil kingdom, the most asto- 
 nishing body. If art is requisite for the formation 
 of many things we see daily done with elegance and 
 beauty; then certainly, mind itself, even the su- 
 preme mind, must have caused such effects as these 
 astonishing marble pillars ; which lie in vast com- 
 pound perpendicular columns at great depths in the 
 earth, none being in beds of strata, like the other 
 marbles; and rise in such beautiful joints and 
 angles, well fitted together, more than six and thirty 
 foot above ground in some places. No other way 
 could those wonderful productions have come into 
 being, but by that intelligent, active power, who 
 speaks intelligibly to every nation by his works. 
 To talk as some people do, that necessity, which 
 destroys the very idea of intelligent and designing 
 activity, or chance — which is an utter absurdity — 
 or the sea, according to Telliamed, generated and
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 205 
 
 formed this genus ot marble, and so wonderfully 
 distinguished it from all the other marmora; by 
 making it into pentagon, hexagon, and septagon 
 columns, and rendering the points of the columns 
 convex and concave, and so amazingly joining 
 them together, that the prominent angles of one 
 pillar fall exactly into the hollow left between two 
 others, and the plain sides exactly answer to one 
 another, as before observed, while all of them stand 
 up perpendicular, contrary to the quality of all other 
 marbles, and some lie in beds of strata. To talk 
 I say of the sea, a chance, a necessity, doing this, or 
 any thing of so wonderful a kind, is to produce 
 schemes founded in ignorance, and eversive of true 
 knowledge, instead of giving a rational, intelligible 
 account of the formation of the world, its order and 
 appearances. In this wonderful production, a due 
 attention perceives infinite art and power. Did we 
 want that variety of things which employ the consi- 
 deration of rational men, and force the tongues of 
 thinking men to acknowledge creating power, this 
 marble alone would be sufficient to demonstrate 
 equal power directed by infinite wisdom. 
 
 Another extraordinary thing I saw in a valley 
 not far from that where the basaltes stands, is a 
 boisterous burning spring. It rises with great noise 
 and vibration, and gushes out with a force sufficient
 
 20G THE LIFE OF 
 
 to turn many mills. The water is clear and cold, 
 but to the taste unpleasant, being something like a 
 bad egg. I judged from the nature of its motion 
 that the water would take fire, and having lit my 
 torch, soon put it in a flame. The fire was fierce, 
 and the water ran down the vale in a blaze. It was 
 a river of fire for a considerable way, till it sunk 
 under ground among some rocks, and thereby dis- 
 appeared. After it had burned some time, I took 
 some boughs from a tree, and tying them together, 
 beat the surface of the well for a few minutes, and 
 the burning ceased. The water was not hot, as one 
 might expect, but cold as the coldest spring could 
 be. There are a great number of such springs in 
 the world, but this is the largest 1 have read of, or 
 seen. It differs from that of Broseley in Shropshire, 
 within six miles of Bridge-north, in this respect, 
 that Broseley-well will not continue to burn for any 
 time, unless the air be kept from it ; to which pur- 
 pose they have enclosed it in an iron cistern with a 
 cover to it ; and to experiment the boiling a piece 
 of meat by the fire of this spring, they clap the pot 
 close down when the cover is taken up, and then it 
 burns as long as they will; making the largest joint 
 of meat fit to eat in half the time the strongest culi- 
 nary fire could do the work. As to the medicinal 
 virtues of the spring, in the mountains, I can only
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 207 
 
 say, that as it has a copious sulphur, and from 
 thence flames like a spirit of wine, it is probable it 
 might be as effectual in communicating sanity in 
 various cases, as the famous burning spring is in the 
 palatinate of Cracow of the lesser Poland, mentioned 
 in the LeipsicActs, for 1684, p. 326. And as to the ex- 
 tinguishing this fire by beating it with twigs, it must 
 be for the reason given by Mr. Denis, that as the 
 inflammability of such springs is to be ascribed to 
 sulphur, and to its exhalations bursting out of the 
 water ; so this floating flame, which is too subtle to 
 heat the water, is stifled, by involving these spirits 
 in the aqueous particles, by brushing the surface 
 with brooms. 
 
 Conradus tells us, concerning the Polish spring, 
 that at one time, when it was kindled by lightning, 
 the people neglected to put it out, and the stream 
 proceeded on fire for almost three years, and reduced 
 all the neighbouring wood to ashes. It is really a 
 wonderful sight to see such a river of fire, and 
 adorable must be that power, who has caused such 
 things. To say that matter and motion circumscribe 
 and regulate such powers, is idle to the last degree. 
 It) is an inversion of reason. The very existence of 
 the water and sulphur of this spring, must be by the 
 power of the Creator constantly put forth upon it, 
 which causes the parts to be what we call such
 
 208 THE LIFE OF 
 
 things ; and the motion of both must be an impres- 
 sion ; for motion is not essential to matter. Nothing 
 else could produce them, and a cause there must be 
 equal to the various and wonderful effects of both, 
 a cause that is infinity, wise, and powerful. The 
 Deity is every where present, and every where active* 
 His power is indesinently working, gives existence 
 to the various creatures, and produces the most 
 noble phtenomena in nature. All we see, all we feel, 
 fire and water, the universal variety of inanimate 
 and animate creatures, are only the effects of his 
 creating power constantly repeated. The existence 
 of the whole world is a continual new creation ; and 
 therefore it becomes the bounden duty of all rational 
 creatures, to worship this Almighty Power, as well 
 for his works of creation, as for the ways of his pro- 
 vidence. Great and v/onderful are thy works, O 
 Lord God Almighty ! and just and righteous are thy 
 ways, O King of saints : who would not fear thee, O 
 Lord, and glorify thy name, because thou only art 
 holy. 
 
 From the burning fountain we proceeded for 
 half an hour in the same valley right onwards, and 
 then turned to the left in a course to the west, for 
 about a mile, which brought us to the bottom of a 
 steep mountain, we must ascend, or go no farther. 
 It was hard to get the horses over this, and no less
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 209 
 
 ■difficult to descend with them to a deep bottom on 
 the other side of the hill : but with great hazard to 
 ourselves and the beasts, we came down in safety. 
 On the top of this mountain I saw another large 
 loch that was black as ink in appearance, though 
 bright when taken up in a glass ; which as before 
 observed, must be owing I suppose to its top com- 
 municating with the abyss below ; and in the bottom 
 we descend to, there was a swallow larger than the 
 one I saw before. I could make no discovery as to 
 its depth, either by line or sound ; nor did my lead 
 touch any water. On the sloping way from the first 
 chasm in day to the gulph, were several, lateral 
 chambers, that descended one yard in six ; but 
 though the bottom was hard, the horrors of the places 
 hindered me from going far. I went to the end of 
 the first, which was sixty seven yards, and having 
 looked into the second, to which a narrow short pass 
 leads the enquirer, I made what haste I could back; 
 for the opening discovers a space so vast, dismal, 
 and frightful, that it strikes one to the heart. The 
 bottom, as far as my light could enable me to dis- 
 tinguish, was a continuance of stone ; but neither 
 top nor sides were to be seen. It is a horrible 
 place. 
 
 Leaving this bottom, we mounted another very 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE LIFE OF 
 
 high and dangerous hill, and from the top of it de- 
 scended into twenty acres of as rich and beautiful 
 ground as my eyes had ever seen. It was covered 
 with flowers and aromatic herbs ; and had, in the 
 centre of it, a little grove of beautiful trees ; among 
 which were fruits of several kinds. A flowing spring 
 of the purest woXer was in the middle of this sweet 
 little wood, and ran in pretty windings over the 
 ground. It refreshed and adorned the field, and 
 it was beautiful to see the deer from the hills, and 
 the goats come down from the clifls, to drink at 
 these streams. The whole was surrounded with 
 precipices that ascended above the clouds, and 
 through one of these rocky mountains there was an 
 opening that had a stupendous appearance. 
 
 It was a vast amazing arch, that had some re- 
 semblance of the Gothic isle of a large cathedral 
 church, and terminated in a view of rocks hanging 
 over rocks in a manner frightful to behold. It 
 measured an hundred yards in length, forty in 
 breadth, and I judged it to be fifty yards high. 
 The pending rocks in view inclosed a space of four 
 acres, as it appeared to me, and the bottom was so 
 very deep that it looked like night below. What 
 line I had could not reach it, nor could 1 make any 
 thing of the depth by sound. It seemed to me to
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 211 
 
 be a vast swallow that v/ent down to the abyss. 
 The whole was a scene that harrowed the soul with 
 horror. 
 
 By the spring in the little grove I have men- 
 tioned, I sat down at eight in the morning, to break- 
 fast on something that one of my squires produced 
 from his store, while the other was looking for a 
 passage or way onwards, between those vast preci- 
 pices that surrounded us. Two hours he w^asted in 
 an enquiry, and then returned, to let me know there 
 was no passage that he could find : the enclosed 
 rocks were one continued chain of impassable moun- 
 tains. Here then I thought was my ne plus ultra. 
 As the man affirmed there was no getting beyond 
 the vast inclosing cliffs that walled in this charming 
 spot of earth, I imagined for some time, that I must 
 of necessity return, and give over all thoughts of 
 getting to the borders of Cumberland or Bishopric 
 that way. It seemed impossible to proceed, and 
 that was no small trouble to my mind. It was a 
 great journey round, and if I did ride it, I knew not 
 where to turn in on the confines of the country my 
 friend lived on; for I had lost his directions, and 
 had only a small remembrance of his dwelling some- 
 where on the north edge of Westmoreland or York- 
 shire, or on the adjoining borders of Cumberland, or
 
 212 THE LIFE OB- 
 
 the county of Durham. What to do I could not for 
 some time tell : going back I did not at all like, and 
 therefore, to avoid it if possible, resolved to pass the 
 day in trying if I could find any way out, without 
 climbing the mountain again that I had lately come 
 down. Round then I walked, once, and to no 
 manner of purpose, for I did not see any kind of 
 pass; but the second time, as I marched on ob- 
 serving the hill, I took notice of a large clump of 
 great trees in an angle or deep corner, that seemed 
 to stand very oddly, and in the mountain above 
 them there appeared as I thought a distance or 
 space that looked like an opening. I soon found it 
 was so, and that at the back of this little wood, there 
 lay a very narrow way, only broad enough for two 
 horses a-breast: that it extended due west for more 
 than a mile, and then west- north-west for a quarter 
 of a mile, till it terminated in a plain that was 
 several miles in circumference, and intirely sur- 
 rounded with hills. This I discovered in walking 
 the pass by myself, and then returned to bring the 
 horses and men, through this amazing way. It was 
 quite dark, mere night all along; and the bottom 
 very bad. It was likewise very dangerous. It was 
 evident from the ground that stones had fallen from 
 the tops of the hills; and should any descend from
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 21S 
 
 SO vast a height on us, though even small ones, 
 they would without all peradventure be immediate 
 death. 
 
 The plain we came into from the defile, was 
 above a mile over to the opposite hills, and a-cross 
 it was a walk of aged oaks, that seemed, in such a 
 place, as the avenue that leads to the fairy castle of 
 wishes. If there are such beings, as Dr. Fowler, 
 bishop of Gloucester, hath in one of his books af- 
 firmed, then here, 1 said, in this fine romantic region, 
 where all the charms of the field, the forest, the 
 water, and the mountains, are united, may be their 
 favourite mansion, and perhaps they will admit me 
 into their fairy castle, then commences their friend- 
 ship, and when they have all breathed on me, it is 
 but wishing for the future, and the completion of 
 every desire is granted the moment it is formed. 
 Would not this be complete happiness? what do 
 you say. Reflection ? 
 
 ** No ! " answered Reflection, as we rode up this 
 atenue. " Imagination may form fine pictures of 
 felicity from an indulgence in every wish ; but, so 
 blind are mankind to their own real happiness, that 
 it is oftener to the gratification than to the disap- 
 pointment of their wishes that all their misery is 
 owing. We often choose what is not consonant to 
 the welfare of our nature, and strive to avoid those
 
 '214 T1I£ LIFE OF 
 
 incidents which are fated in the order of incontrol- 
 able events for our good. Frequently do we labour 
 to secure the things that debase us into slaves, and 
 overwhelm us with calamity; but seldom do we de- 
 sire, rarely do we strive to obtain those objectS; and 
 acquire that station, which are most likely to render 
 humanity as perfect as it can be in this world, ra- 
 tional and godlike, and thereby crown our lives with 
 true happiness. Many a man has pursued a Venus, 
 an estate, an honour, with much toil and wonderful 
 activity, and when possessed of the fancied blessing, 
 have been made very miserable mortals. The wished- 
 for beauty has often made even the husband 
 wretched. An aching scar is often covered with 
 the laurel : and in respect of envied great fortunes, 
 gaudy is the thing without, and within very often is 
 mere bitterness. The wisdom is as to this world, 
 not to get from the fairies a power of enjoying all 
 that fancy may desire, if that was possible ; but, to 
 act well and wisely, in the most reasonable, lovely, 
 and fair manner, and propose nothing of ourselves, 
 but with a reserve that supreme wisdom permits it ; 
 welcoming every event with cheerfulness and mag- 
 nanimity, as best upon the whole, because ordained 
 of infinite reason ; and acquiescing in every obstruc- 
 tion, as ultimately reservable to divine providence- 
 This," continued Reflection, " in respect of this life,
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 215 
 
 were there no other, is preferable to the castle 
 of wishes, if we could find it at the end of this 
 avenue*." 
 
 But if another life is taken into the question, the 
 argument grows stronger against a power of enjoy- 
 ing all we could wish for. As we are accountable 
 creatures, and are pouring fast out of time into 
 eternity, religion undoubtedly ought to be the main 
 business of mortals ; that religion which is a living 
 principle, spring or root of actions in the soul; 
 wrought there by the hand of him that made us ; 
 
 * In the second volume of Familiar Letters between the 
 characters in David Simple, the reader \n\\ find an excel- 
 lent story in relation to wishing, which the ingenious 
 female writer calls ' a Fragment of a Fairy Tale,' in the 
 conclusion of which there is the following sensible ob- 
 servation : " The good Fairy came often to visit me, and 
 confirmed me in my resolution, never again to be so un- 
 reasonable, as to desire to have all my wishes com- 
 pleted j for she convinced me, that the short-sighted 
 eyes of mortals were not formed to see, whether the 
 event of any of their own wishes would produce most 
 happiness or misery : and that our greatest felicity, often 
 arises from the very disappointment of those desires, the 
 gratification of which, at the first view, seems to be 
 necessar}'to our welfare."— FaTTzi/mr Letters, j.t supra, 1747. 
 8vo. vol. ii. p. Q'25. 272.
 
 21^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 and which requireth us to honour and fear God, a& 
 the supreme Lord, to esteem him as the chief good; 
 and to exercise and express that honour, that fear, 
 and that esteem, by all the means, and in all the 
 ways which reason and revelation appoint for such 
 exercise and expression ; that we may gain the love 
 of the Almighty, and obtain the established seat of 
 happiness above ; but such force hath the objects of 
 sense upon the mind, that it is more than probable 
 they would outweigh the distant hopes of religion, if 
 wishing could bring in even a tenth part of what the 
 vanity of man, and his senses would call for. It 
 would be so far from being an advantage to man- 
 kind, if they could wish and have vast fortunes, all 
 the pleasures the pomps and honours of the world, 
 that they would thereby be deprived of the rational 
 joys of life, and be influenced to think no more of 
 the excellency and beauty of religion, and the good 
 consequences of serving God truly. They would 
 not even divide themselves between this world and 
 the other. The idol gods of this state would have 
 all their service. The wish then should be for daily 
 bread and of the kingdom of God may come, his will 
 be done in our souls. In these are comprised the 
 greatest and most valuable blessing, and we are sure 
 we can obtain them, if we will add to asking an 
 industry and prudence in acquiring, and take care
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^1/ 
 
 by culture, to bring up the seeds of virtue and holi- 
 ness. This is enough to make us as happy here as 
 reason can desire. We have a sufficiency to go 
 through this world to that other where we are to be 
 stationed for ever, and against the accidents of the 
 way, we have the supports which innocence and 
 virtue to the good administer. Peace and tranquil- 
 lity of mind here, and hopes full of comfort with 
 respect to hereafter, are the ingredients of our hap- 
 piness ; a happiness the greatest! and we are cer- 
 tain that he, upon whose mercy and goodness we 
 confess we exist, will, in regard to our confidence 
 and trust, our faith and religion, when this fleeting 
 scene is over, make us glorious and ever blessed in 
 the kingdom he has prepared for those that rely on 
 the Divine Goodness, and do their best to advance 
 the state of true virtue in the world. Let us not 
 \ regret, then, the want of a Castle of Wishes. Let 
 1 us not have a desire of that wealth, dominion, and 
 splendor, which lives in contempt of the prophets, 
 and riots in the heinous pleasures of irreligion. 
 I Let our great Master's Will be made the rule of 
 all our actions, and let his interest be regrarded, as 
 our interest. Let us consult his honour, as our own 
 honour; and having food and raiment, be content, 
 as we are hastening away with a never ceasing 
 pace, to the realms of eternity and unmixed bliss.
 
 218 THE LIFE OF 
 
 This is reason and light. This only deserves our 
 care. There is nothing worth wishing for, but the 
 happiness of God's presence in our hearts ; and the 
 more immediate communications of his love and 
 favour in the regions of day. 
 
 Thus did Reflection entertain me, as I rode up 
 this grand shady walk, which looked like the avenue 
 I had read of in the Tales of the Fairies, and brought 
 me to a natural grotto, more beautiful than ^Elian's 
 description of Atalanta's, or that in Homer, where 
 Calypso lived. It was a large cavern at the bottom 
 of a marble mountain, and without, was covered 
 round with ivy, that clung about some aged oaks, on 
 either side the entrance, that seemed coeval with 
 the earth on which they grew. Abundance of large 
 laurel trees, in clumps, adorned an extensive area 
 before the door; and saffron, and hyacinths, and 
 flowers of many colours, covered in confused spots 
 the green carpet. The beautiful ground refreshed the 
 sight, and purified the air ; and to enhance the beau- 
 ties of the spot, a clear and cold stream gushed from 
 a neighbouring rock ; which watered the trees and 
 plants, and seemed to combat with the earth, whether 
 of them most contributed to their growth and pre- 
 servation. It was a sweet rural scene. For charms 
 and solitude the place was equally to be admired. 
 The inside of this grotto was a beautiful green
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. '^19 
 
 marble, extremely brig'ht, eind even approaciiing to 
 the appearance of the emerald. It was thick set 
 with shells, and those not small ones, but some of 
 the largest and finest kinds : many of them seemed 
 as it were, squeezed together by the marble, so as 
 to shew the edges only ; but more were to be seen 
 at large, and filled with the purest spar. The whole 
 iiad a fine effect, and as the cave had been divided 
 by art into six fine apartments, and had doors and 
 chimnies most ingeniously contrived, both the man- 
 sion and its situation charmed me in a high degree. 
 On either side of it were many cottages, pretty and 
 clean, and as sheep were feeding on the field, some 
 cows grazing, and various kinds of tame fowl before 
 the doors, 1 concluded it was an inhabited place, 
 before I saw any one. 
 
 44. The first human being 1 beheld, was an old 
 woman, v/ho appeared at the grotto door, and I re- 
 quested her to inform me, who lived in this delight- 
 ful place ; and which was my best way to Cumber- 
 land or Bishopric ? Sir, replied the good old woman, 
 you are welcome to Burcot-lodge. Women only 
 are the inhabitants of this spot ■ and over the hills 
 before you, you muse go, to get to the countries you 
 mention. We are an hundred souls in all that live 
 here, and our mistress, superior and head, is a young 
 woman. Her name is Azora. Yonder she comes,
 
 210 THE LIFE OF 
 
 goodness itself, and as it is now seven in the evening, 
 too late to proceed any farther in this part of the 
 world, you had better walk up to her, and pay her 
 your respects. Great was my surprize at what I 
 heard. A little female republic among those hills 
 was news indeed; and when I came near Azora, 
 my astonishment encreased. 
 
 She was attended by ten young women, straight, 
 clean, handsome girls, and surpassed them in tall- 
 ness. Her countenance was masculine, but not 
 austere : her fine blue eyes discovered an excellence 
 of temper, while they shewed the penetration of her 
 mind. Her hair was brown, bright and charming; 
 and nature had stamped upon her cheeks a colour, 
 that exceeded the most beautiful red of the finest 
 flower. It was continually as the maiden blush of a 
 modest innocence. She was drest in a fine woollen 
 stuff, made in the manner shepherdesses are painted, 
 and on her head had a band or fillet like what the 
 ladies now wear, with a bunch of artificial flowers in 
 her hair. She had a very small straw hat on. In 
 her hand, she held a long and pretty crook ; and as 
 her coats were short, her feet were seen, in black 
 silk shoes, and the finest white stockings, and ap- 
 peared vastly pretty. She struck me greatly. She 
 was a charming, and uncommon figure. When I 
 came up to Azoua, I could hardly forbear addres-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^^1 
 
 sing her, as the son of Ulysses did the supernal ; 
 " O vous, qui que vous soiez, mortelle ou deesse, 
 quoiqu'a vous voir on ne puisse vous prendre 
 que pour une divinite, seriez-vous insensible au 
 malheur d'un fils, &c/' Whoever you are, a mortal 
 or a goddess, though sure your aspect speaks you 
 all divine, can you, unmoved, behold a hapless son, 
 by fate expelled, and urged by unrelenting rage, to 
 wander through the world, exposed to winds and 
 seas, and all the strokes of adverse fortune, till he 
 arrived in this land of felicity and peace ? But on 
 better thoughts, I only said, I am your most humble 
 servant, madam, and told her I believed I had lost 
 my way, and knew not where to go. To which she 
 replied, " you are welcome, sir^ to our hamlet, and 
 to the best entertainment it affords, only tell me," 
 she added with a smile, " what could induce you to 
 travel this unbeaten road, and how did you pass the 
 precipices and rivers you must have met with in the 
 way ?" " Curiosity, madam," I answered, " was 
 one cause; that I might see a country no traveller 
 had been in ; and my next inducement, to find a valu- 
 able friend ; who lives somewhere upon the north- 
 ern border of this county, or Yorkshire, or on the 
 adjoining limits of Cumberland or Durham ; but on 
 which I know not ; and as I came from Brugh under 
 Stanemore, I judged it the shortest way by a great
 
 222 THE LIFE OF 
 
 many miles, and the likeliest to succeed in my en- 
 quiry after my friend, then as to hills and waters, 
 many dangerous ones I have gone over, and with 
 great toil and fatigue have got thus far." *^ This," 
 AzoRA said, " is a rational account of your journey, 
 and as there are many difficulties still before you, 
 you are welcome to rest with us till you are re- 
 freshed, and able to proceed. 
 
 By this time we reached the grotto door, and 
 upon entering the first apartment, I saw another 
 lady, drest in the same manner, and seemed to be 
 of the same age, that is, about six and twenty, as I 
 was told. This was Azora's companion and 
 friend. She was a very pretty woman, though in- 
 ferior to AzORA in charms ; but her mind was 
 equally luminous and good. Neither she nor Azora 
 were learned women, that is, they understood no 
 other language than the English tongue, and in that 
 they had but a small collection of the best books ; 
 but those few they had read well, and they had capa- 
 cities to think. In reason, philosophy, and mathe- 
 matics, they were excellent, and in the most agree- 
 able manner, discovered in conversation the finest 
 conceptions of the most excellent things. Azora, 
 of the two, was by much the best speaker. Her 
 voice was delightful, and her pronunciation just, 
 strong, clear, and various. With unspeakable plea-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 9.23 
 
 sure did I listen to her, during three days that I 
 happily passed with her and her companion, and re- 
 ceived from both many valuable informations. I 
 thought I understood algebra very well, but I was 
 their inferior, and they instructed me ; and on 
 the fundamental points of religion, they not only 
 out-talked me, but out-reasoned me. It is very 
 strange, I confess. It is very, true, however. 
 
 AzoRA, in particular, had an amazing collection 
 of the most rational philosophical ideas, and she 
 delivered them in the most pleasing dresS; with as 
 much ease as she breathed. She asked me, after I 
 had feasted on an excellent supper, how religion 
 went on in the world ; and what was the condition 
 of that which came from supernatural communica- 
 tion, as she phrased it ? and when I told her, that 
 our excellent divines did all that was possible for 
 men to do, to turn the world from superstition of 
 every kind, to that express revelation which restores 
 the dictates of uncorrupted reason to their force and 
 authority; which teaches the knowledge of one 
 supreme Spirit or God, and the nature of that wor- 
 ship which is due to a Being not confined to, or de- 
 pendent upon particular places, or circumstances ; 
 but always and every where present with us : she 
 answered, that such clergymen are glorious, and 
 cannot be enough admired ; and great is the un-
 
 294 THE LIFE OF 
 
 reasonableness of the men who opposed them, and 
 forced them into the field of disputation, from their 
 holy labour of instructing the people in penitential 
 piety and sanctification ; I mean the infidels and 
 the bigots. 
 
 •' What can be more unjust and impious," Azora 
 continued, " than for men to declaim against a re- 
 velation which displays the paternal regard of God 
 for his creatures, by doing more than was strictly 
 necessary for their happiness, as they had his origi- 
 nal law of reason before he gave them the gospel ; 
 and which enables us to extend our knowledge even 
 as to those things which we are by nature capable 
 of knowing ; which awakens us to duty, and advises 
 us how to walk in the ways of prudence and safety. 
 To reject such an extraordinary method of saving 
 us, is senseless and culpable indeed. Surely, when 
 superstition and enthusiasm has led mankind into 
 errors, we ought to adore the divine goodness for 
 re-communicating a knowledge of true religion; of 
 duty in this life, and of what we are to expect in that 
 which is to come. We can never be thankful enough 
 for a revelation, that has a tendency to promote the 
 happiness of mankind both here and hereafter. The 
 opposition, in my opinion, is without excuse; as the 
 external evidence of history, miracles, and prophesy 
 for the gospel, is incontestably strong, when fairly
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^^ 
 
 examined ; must appear with force to a modest, 
 candid, impartial enquirer; and as the internal evi- 
 dence for the sacred letters, their usefulness and 
 excellence, must be obvious to every attentive 
 capacity, that deh^hts in the pursuit of rehgion and 
 virtue. Truth and candour, then, those infidels are 
 strangers to. They are not fair reasoners. They 
 are haughty, over-bearing declaimers. 
 
 " Nor can I think much better," said Azora, 
 *' of those great and reverend men, who preach and 
 write to prove the weakness of human reason, and 
 that the prime law of our creation, the law of na- 
 ture, is imperfect, insufficient, and obscure ; and 
 therefore, supernatural communication was abso- 
 lutely necessary ; who add to this, things incon- 
 ceivable and contradictory, and insist upon our be- 
 lieving articles too hard for rational beings. This 
 is misrepresenting rationals, if we believe the scrip- 
 tures, and is so far from being of service to the 
 cause of Christianity, as in charity we must suppose 
 those great men by such writing and preaching do 
 intend ; that it does, on the contrary, very greatly 
 hurt revealed religion. It is to such wrong de- 
 fences of revelation that antichristian deism owes 
 its chief strength. Our holy religion wants not any 
 real evidence that can be desired by the modest, 
 candid, and impartial ; but if great and learned men 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THi: LIFE OF 
 
 will deny the perfection of the primary law of God 
 and substitute in the place of recommunicated na- 
 ture, an invented gospel, that swells with useless 
 mysteries, and hard doctrines ; great damage must 
 fall upon the true gospel. An unintelligible reli- 
 gion is no religion. It can be of no concern, with 
 regard to rational creatures ; and strong minds will 
 laugh at its pieties/' 
 
 " But exclusive of invented mysteries," I said, 
 " which are to be sure sad stuff in the works of 
 those great men, and deplorably corrupt the sim- 
 plicity of the gospel, to me it is not so plain, that 
 mankind could by reason acquire just and adequate 
 ideas of the existence and nature of the supreme 
 Being, or know that they had immortal souls, and 
 would expose themselves to eternal unavoidable 
 misery in a future state, in proportion to the de- 
 merit of their thoughts and actions in this world ; 
 but might secure everlasting felicity by worshiping 
 one supreme, universal, omnipotent, eternal, omni- 
 present, and intelligent Spirit, and doing all the 
 good we have an opportunity and power to do in 
 this life. I question if reason can make us clear 
 and certain on these articles. The reason of the 
 bulk of mankind cannot do it, I think. Therefore, 
 the gospel was absolutely necessary for the salva- 
 tion of men."
 
 JOHN^ BUNCLE, ESQ. 217 
 
 AzoRA to this replied, that " faith in Christ, and 
 all his own institutions, were of high value indeed ; 
 and beautiful his religion appears, when it is fairly 
 represented, as an institution that has no other end 
 than morality, the most noble end, and the most 
 worthy of God ; and that declares the practice of 
 all the moral offices to be superior to any inward ac- 
 complishment, or outward Christian institution ; but 
 she could not allow, that Christianity was abso- 
 lutely necessary : for the common reason of men, 
 without launching out into the unfathomable ocean 
 of metaphysical subtilties, appears upon trial to be 
 able to discover the fundamental points of religion; 
 and from the things that are made, from our moral 
 capacities and powers, and from our relations to 
 one another, to know the supreme Being, his attri- 
 butes and perfections, and that we are accountable 
 to our great Creator." 
 
 '* If men will think, they must perceive without 
 the reason of a Newton or Clarke, the existence of 
 a spiritual influence in all the parts of inanimated 
 matter, and the existence of their own spirits or 
 souls. To which ever part ot matter we look, we 
 see a spirit employed. An influencing Being, en- 
 dued with the faculties of perception, activity, and 
 volition, is plain. The accidental qualities of mat- 
 ter, called attraction, repulsion, and communica-
 
 228 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tion of motion, evince that material and vegetable 
 nature, and all the parts of inanimated matter, are 
 actuated by one supreme and universal Spirit: I 
 say One Spirit, because it is evident from a same- 
 ness of volition, that is, from one and the same fa- 
 culty of volition, manifest throughout all nature, 
 that there are not several distinct, independent 
 spirits. In attraction, repulsion, and communica- 
 tion of motion, there appears no different faculty of 
 volition; but a different exercise of the same faculty 
 of volition ; which, for wise reasons, makes some 
 parts of matter cohere strongly, as stone and metal, 
 — some weakly, as earth, &c. ; some repel, while 
 others attract; some elastic, and others non-elastic. 
 In all these cases, cme spirit only is the actor : that 
 Being who holds all perfection in himself, and by 
 an absolute command over all parts of matter, forms 
 and manages it as his wisdom sees best ; just as his 
 adorable providence governs us, and disposes of 
 us, by such laws as reason, consulting the good of 
 the whole society, declares it to be best for us to 
 obey : best, most surely, as it is the glory of the 
 Almighty to be constantly and without any devia- 
 tion governed by the eternal and immutable laws of 
 good and right, just and equal. All is the opera- 
 tion of one and the same universal spirit. Identity 
 is visible. The various kinds of attraction, repul-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 229 
 
 sion, &c. only shew the unlimited power of the 
 Deity, in actuating matter as his established rules 
 require. Were several arbitrary supreme spirits to 
 act over matter, the consequence would be a breach 
 of regularity, uniformity, and constancy, in the laws 
 of nature, and that confusion would appear instead 
 of beauty and order. 
 
 " Thus common reason confesses that there is 
 one infinite universal, supreme spirit, who actuates 
 and governs the universe ; and from the heavens, 
 the earth, and ourselves, we are as certain that there 
 is a Creator and Lord of all the worlds, who directs 
 every atom of it, and animates every material form, 
 as we are of any thing demonstrated to us. And as 
 he is not only the Creator but the Manager and 
 Preserver of every being, there can be no power 
 equal to him. He must be omnipotent. He must 
 likewise be eternal and omnipresent ; for there was 
 no superior power to receive existence from, nor is 
 there a superior power to confine it. As to his infi- 
 nite intelligence, his being the Author and Preserver 
 of all things demonstrates it. 
 
 " In respect of the human soul," Azora con- 
 tinued, " it is impossible for perception to proceed 
 from the body, or from any motion or modification 
 of parts of the body ; and therefore, there must be
 
 230 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a mind in which our ideas must be produced and 
 exist. If the ideas o sensation may be supposed to 
 be occasioned by the different motions of the consti- 
 tuent parts of the brain, yet they cannot be those 
 motions. The motions can only enable a spiritual 
 percipient to note them and remember them, and as 
 to reflection, the other part of the perceptive faculty, 
 attention, and contemplation, it is not possible they 
 can proceed from the different motions into which 
 the parts of the brain are put ; because they are 
 employed solely about perceptions which were only 
 in the mind. The case is the same as to many other 
 qualities or faculties ; in the designing quality, the 
 inventing quality, the judging quality, the reasoning 
 quality, the compounding quality, the abstracting 
 quality, the discerning quality, the recollective qua- 
 lity, the retentive quality, the freedom of will, 
 the faculty of volition, and especially the foreseeing 
 faculty : these cannot be the faculties of matter. 
 Such qualities must exist ultimately and solely in 
 mind. Can foresight, for example, be the work of 
 matter, when it is employed about things and ac- 
 tions which have not yet happened, and for that 
 reason cannot be the objects of the senses? No 
 surely. It must be the spiritual part of the com- 
 pound that acts upon the occasion : in ail the intel-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 231 
 
 ligent faculties which we comprehend under the 
 complex idea of understanding, spirit only can be 
 the performer. 
 
 " There is a soul or mind then in man, and that 
 it is immortal and accountable, is as evident as that 
 the retentive faculty, that is, retaining ideas received 
 by reflection, does not pertain to body, but is a 
 natural quality of the soul only, and does not pro- 
 ceed from its union with the body : for, as percep- 
 tion and retention prove the human mind to be a 
 distinct being, and that it has qualities which can- 
 not proceed from body, therefore it must still con- 
 tinue a spirit unless annihilated by its Creator, and 
 must, after its separation, be endued with the quali- 
 ties which are the faculties of soul only. The rea- 
 son is plain. These qualities cannot be destroyed 
 without a cause, but separation is no cause, as the 
 quality or qualities did not proceed from, or depend 
 on union, therefore the soul is immortal, unless we 
 suppose what cannot be supposed, that its Creator 
 puts an end to its being. We must know, after 
 death, that we exist. We must remember a past 
 existence, and call to mind every idea we had 
 formed in this life by reflection. 
 
 " As to our being accountable hereafter for the 
 deeds we have done in this first state of existence, 
 this can admit of no speculation ; for as we have
 
 23'2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 received from our Creator the eternal law of reason, 
 which enables us to distinguish right and wrong, 
 and to govern the inferior powers and passions, ap- 
 petites and senses, if we please; as we are endued 
 with an understanding which can acquire large 
 moral dominion, and may, if we oppose not, sit as 
 queen upon the throne over the whole corporeal 
 system ; since the noble faculty of reason was given 
 to rectify the soul, and purify it from earthly affec- 
 tions; to elevate it above the objects of sense, to 
 purge it from pride and vanity, selfishness and 
 hypocrisy, and render it just, pious, and good; of 
 consequence, God has a right to call us to account 
 for our conduct in this first state, and will reward or 
 punish, in a most extraordinary manner ; as the 
 principles and actions of man have been righteous ; 
 or, his life and character stained by unjust disposi- 
 tions and filthy deeds. This is plain to common 
 reason. Every understanding must see this, how 
 wrong soever they wilfully act. As God by his 
 nature must abhor iniquity, and love what is honest, 
 pure, and good; he must reward the piety and 
 worthy behaviour of those, who act according to 
 reason in this life, and with views beyond the 
 bounds of time, endeavour to proceed each day to 
 ttiore exalted ideas of virtue : but, the mortals who 
 deviate from rectitude and goodness, and willfully
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^33 
 
 live workers of iniquity, must expect that God, the 
 Father of spirits, the Lover of truth, and the patron 
 of righteousness and virtue, will proportion future 
 punishments to present vices, and banish them to 
 the regions of eternal darkness. From the natural 
 lights of our understanding we have the highest 
 reason to conclude this will be the case. The 
 truths are as evident to a reflection, as that this 
 world, and we who inhabit it, could not have had 
 eternal existence, nor be first formed by any natu- 
 ral cause; but must have been originally produced, 
 as we are now constantly preserved, by the supreme 
 and universal spirit. This is the excellent law of 
 reason or nature. There is a light sufficient in 
 every human breast, to conduct the soul to perfect 
 day, if men vrill follow it right onwards, and not 
 turn into the paths that lead to the dark night of 
 hell." 
 
 Azora's religious notions amazed me, and the 
 more, as they were uttered with a fluency and ease 
 beyond any thing I had ever heard before. In the 
 softest, sweetest voice, she expressed herself, and 
 without the least appearance of labour, her ideas 
 seemed to flow from a vast fountain. She was a 
 master indeed in the doctrine of ideas. Her notion 
 of them and their formation was just as possible; 
 and in a few minutes she settled every thing relating
 
 234 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to them. Her ideas of activity and passivity afforded 
 me much instruction, as did her notions of space, 
 matter, and spirit: and what is still more extra- 
 ordinary, she had a fine conception of an electrical 
 fluid, which is thought to be a discovery made very 
 lately, and made use of it to prove, not that it is 
 the ultimate cause of effects, but that every thing is 
 caused and directed by an immaterial spirit. An 
 immaterial spirit was her favourite article, and it was 
 to me a fine entertainment to hear her on that sub- 
 ject; from the one supreme Spirit down to the spirit 
 of brute animals. But to conclude our conversation 
 on religion; I observed to Azora, that " if things 
 were so, and the law of reason was so perfect and 
 sufficient, then I could not see that there was any 
 want at all of the religion of favour, since that of 
 nature was enough to confirm us in rectitude and 
 holiness, if we would obey its directions ; and to 
 shew us the way to the mansions of angels. Why 
 the law of grace at so great an expence. if the rule 
 of reason can make us good here, and for ever 
 happy hereafter ? " 
 
 Azora replied, that she had before answered 
 this question by observing, that *' excellent as the 
 primary law of the creation was, yet, revelation was 
 of the greatest use, as it enables us to extend our 
 knowledge even as to the things which we are by
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 235 
 
 nature capable of knowing; and as it restored to 
 the world the law of reason, that is, true religion* 
 when superstition and enthusiasm had established 
 false religion. This renders Christianity glorious 
 were there nothing more to be said for it : But this 
 is not all we can say. 
 
 The best of mortals are weak, and the most of 
 them are so fully employed abont things temporal, 
 that it is impossible so much good should proceed 
 from mere human reason as from a plain easy gos- 
 pel, that delineates duty in the most intelligible 
 manner, and contains the absolute command of the 
 great God, to renounce vicious habits, impure de- 
 sires, worldly tempers, and frame ourselves to purity, 
 sincerity, and devotion ; as the only means that can 
 secure his felicitating presence, and gain us admis- 
 sion to the delightful seats of separate souls made 
 perfect. In this the gospel is far preferable to 
 reason. 
 
 Beside, as wilful disobedience strikes at the 
 being and government of God, and devotedness to 
 the Lord of all the worlds, in trust and resignation, 
 is the perfection of religion, the example of the Son 
 of God in his humiliation, his cross, his death, make 
 an instance of resignation so consummate and in- 
 structive, that we not only learn from it what reason 
 cannot half so well instruct us in ; I mean the ami-
 
 236 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ableness of virtue, the excellency of holiness, and 
 the merit of absolute and unreserved obedience ; 
 but, v^^e are roused to an imitation of this grand 
 character ; both on account of its beauty, and the 
 promise of our sitting down with Christ in his 
 throne, if, according to our measure, we work all 
 righteousness, and overcome our present tempta- 
 tions and trials, even as he also overcame, and is 
 set down with his Father in his throne. Reason is 
 nothing compared to this. The gospel dispensation 
 by this means is fitted to render us virtuous, holy, 
 and thoroughly good, in a method the law of nature 
 could never do." 
 
 And more than this ; when the God of heaven 
 saw his creatures and children every where going 
 wrong, without any help amongst themselves, and 
 therefore sent his son to set them right; to set 
 before them the unchangeable rule of everlasting 
 righteousness in its original purity and perfection, 
 and not only explain and enforce it by the most 
 powerful considerations, but apply the commands 
 of supreme reason to the government of the thoughts 
 and passions of the heart ; that duty and virtue in 
 the principle, and habit of universal rectitude to- 
 wards both God and man, might be the practice of 
 all the earth, and mankind become a people holy to 
 the Lord ; He, the Universal Father, the better to
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 effect this blessed purpose, added two things to 
 religion, which have a power that reason wants to 
 make us conform to God, and the eternal laws of 
 righteousness, in principle, temper^ and life. One 
 is, Christ's appearing to put away sin by the sacri- 
 fice of himself, by his becoming a sin-oftering. The 
 other is the assistance of the Spirit of God. The 
 oblation of the Son, and the grace of the Father, 
 have effects in religion, in changing and sanctifying, 
 that reason is an utter stranger to. 
 
 '' The sum of the whole is, the gospel, that word 
 of truth and .'power, enters the hearts, and breaks 
 the power of sin in the soul. The holy life of Christ 
 sets us an example, that we should walk in his 
 steps, and obey the will of the infinitely wise Crea- 
 tor ; that, like him, we should accord by obedience 
 with the harmony of God's moral government, and 
 rather die than break or obstruct it by any wilful sin. 
 And by his being a sin-offering, he not only put an 
 end to all sin-offerings, which both Jews and Gen- 
 tiles were wont to offer ""'; but, by his being the 
 
 * When a plague aftiictedthe Massilienses, they fed a 
 poor man deliciously, and adorned him with sacred vest- 
 ments; then led him through the city, and sacrificed 
 him, by throwing him headlong down from a steep rock, 
 after the people had poured their execrations upon him,
 
 238 THE LIFE OF 
 
 most precious one in the universe, shewed God's 
 great displeasure against sin, and in his obedience 
 to the Father, even unto death, that we ought to 
 cease from evil, and by a righteous obedience 
 render ourselves worthy of God the Father's love. 
 That we may do so we have the promise of the 
 Spirit so enable us to turn from sin and Satan to 
 the living God, that by the acting principle of sanc- 
 tification, vrrought within us by the hand of him 
 that made us, without the least force on our will, we 
 may perfect our souls in purity and holiness, exer- 
 cise acts of love and benevolence, and worship the 
 one true God in and through the one true Mediator. 
 Reason alone, excellent as it is, cannot produce any 
 thing like this. 
 
 The religion of favour in these respects sur- 
 passes the law of nature. By the first law of the 
 creation, reason, we may acquire that righteousness, 
 which is an habitual rectitude of soul, and right ac- 
 tions flowing from it: but sanctification, that in- 
 
 and prayed that all the calamities of their city might 
 fall upon him. Such practice shews that Christ bein^ 
 offered for the .sins of the whole world, was in conformity 
 to the ideas of mankind. The Jctcs had their devoted 
 animal, and the Gentiles had their sacrificed poor man, 
 and other ways.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 239 
 
 fluencing principle, which adds holiness to righte- 
 ousness, belongs, as I take it, to the law of grace. 
 It is given to those who ask it, not for the sake of, 
 but through Christ." 
 
 ** All this," I answered, '* is just and fine, and I 
 have only to request, for ray farther instruction, 
 that you will be pleased, madam, to explain yourself 
 a little more on the articles of a sin-offering and 
 grace; for I have always thought there was a dark- 
 ness sat upon these parts of revealed religion, and 
 have often wished for what I have not yet found, a 
 head capable of giving me entire satisfaction on 
 these points : but from what I have heard you say, I 
 must now suppose that all my doubts, relative to the 
 two subjects, you have the power to remove." '• My 
 power," replied Azora, '^ is no more than a plain 
 understanding, that in this still and peaceful region, 
 has been at liberty to think, without being corrupted 
 by sophistry, school-nonsense, or authority; and, as 
 to giving satisfaction on the heads you mention, or 
 any other, it is not what I pretend to : but my 
 opinion you shall have since you ask;" and in the 
 following manner Azora proceeded, 
 
 '^ As to our Lord's becoming a sin-offering, I 
 conceive, in the first place, that God ordained it, 
 because he saw it needful, and necessary to answer 
 many and great ends. It must be right, and what
 
 240 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ill the reason and nature of things ought to be, 
 though we were not able to comprehend the reasons 
 that made it needful. It must have been the pro- 
 perest way to make up the breach between heaven 
 and earth, since infinite wisdom appointed it. 
 
 " In the next place, as the death of this great per- 
 son not only gave the highest attestation to the truth 
 of his doctrine, and confirmed every word he had 
 preached ; to the encouragement of sinners to re- 
 pent, and the great consolation of saints ; but has 
 afforded us such a noble pattern of obedience, as 
 must have an influence on intelligent beings, and 
 excite them to practise obedience to all the com- 
 mands of God, and perfect resignation to his will in 
 every case ; which are some excellent reasons for 
 Christ's dying ; so did Almighty God make this far- 
 ther use of it, that he appointed the blood of Christ, 
 which was shed to produce the essence of sanctifi- 
 cation in the soul, to wit, devotedness, trust, and 
 resignation to the Almighty Father of the universe, 
 to be the blood of a new covenant, shed for many 
 for the remission of sins. This seems to me to take 
 in the whole case. Christ by obedience to the death, 
 which happened in the natural course of things, is 
 held out to the world a pattern of self-sacrifice in 
 the cause of truth and virtue, a sample of that per- 
 fect religion, not my will, but thine be done; the
 
 JOnX BUNGLE, ESQ. 241 
 
 glorious gospel is thereby confirmed ; and our re- 
 demption is effected by the blood of the Son of God. 
 As Moses, the mediator between God and Israel, 
 repeated to the people the laws and judgments of 
 God, and received their consent to the divi^ie com- 
 mands ; entered this covenant in his book, offered 
 sacrifices of praise and friendship, and then con- 
 firmed the covenant in the most solemn manner, by 
 dividing the blood of the sacrifices into parts ; one 
 part of which he sprinkled on the altar, to ratify 
 God's part of the covenant; and with the other part 
 sprinkled the people, that is, the twelve princes, the 
 heads, or the twelve pillars, which represented the 
 twelve tribes, and then awfully cried out with a 
 strong voice, ' Behold the blood of the covenant Je- 
 hovah has made with you :' so did the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, the mediator between God and all mankind, 
 teach the people by his gospel to rectify their no- 
 tions, to regulate their affections, to direct their 
 worship,- with the judgments that were to be the 
 consequence of disobedience, the rewards prepared 
 for those who obey ; and then declared, in relation 
 to his death, ' This is my blood of the new covenant. 
 The blood I must shed on the cross will seal, ratify, 
 and confirm a pardoning covenant, and by virtue 
 thereof, upon repentance and conversion, the world 
 is washed clean through the blood of the Lamb.' 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE LIFE Of 
 
 This, I think for myself, renders the thing very plain 
 and easy. The death of the Son of God was taken 
 into the plan of redemption, not to pacify God's 
 anger ; for God could be no otherwise pleased or 
 delighted with the blood of his Son, than as his shed- 
 ding it was an act of the highest obedience, and a 
 noble pattern to all the rational creation ; but his 
 blood was made the seal of a pardoning and justify- 
 ing covenant; and by the death of Christ, the most 
 powerful means to prevent sin, and to draw sinners 
 to obey the commands of heaven, God demonstrated 
 his love and mercy to mankind. 1 fancy I am clear. 
 In this view of the matter, I can see no difficulty in 
 being justified freely by the grace of God, through 
 the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. God is 
 the sole original and fountain of redemption. The 
 Son, and his gospel are the great instruments, Lo ! 
 I come to do thy will, O my God, the Son declares : 
 and the blood be shed, the better to bring the 
 human race to wisdom, rectitude and happiness, is 
 appointed by our merciful, good, and gracious 
 Father, to be the seal and ratification of a new cove- 
 nant. Moloch might want a cruel and bloody 
 sacrifice to pacify him; but the Father of the uni- 
 verse sent his Christ to deliver his commands, and 
 made the death which he foresaw would happen by 
 his Son's delivering such commands to impious
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^4^ 
 
 men, to be a covenant between Jehovah and the 
 people, that Jesus should be considered as a propi" 
 tiation for our sins, and his death be an eternal me- 
 morial of the Ahnighty's love, and abhorrence o 
 iniquity. There can no objection he against this 
 To me this appears the most rational and beautifu 
 scheme that infinite wisdom could contrive. Most 
 glorious and good is our God. Most happy may 
 mortals be, if they please. The virtuous obedience 
 of our Lord hath obtained from God a right and 
 power to abolish death. His blood hath confirmed 
 the covenant of grace, and his gospel hath brought 
 life immortal into light. 
 
 " As to the influence of the spirit," Azora con- 
 tinued, '- that there is such a living principle in the 
 hiiman soul, cannot, I think, be denied, if revela- 
 tion is to be believed ; but the mode of influencing: 
 is not perhaps to be explained otherwise than by 
 saying, that our gracious and good Father makes 
 now and then some friendly impressions upon our 
 minds, and by representing in several lights the 
 terrors and promises of the gospel, excites our hopes 
 and fears. As I apprehend, we can go very little 
 further. It is easy, I think, to prove from the scrip- 
 tures, that as the extraordinary assistance of the 
 Holy Ghost was necessary for planting Christianity 
 at first ; so is a supernatural assistance of the Holy
 
 244 TIIK LIFE OF 
 
 Ghost, though not in so illustrious a manner, still 
 necessary to enable us to perform the conditions of 
 the gospel. Though God has recalled the more 
 visible signs of his presence, yet to be sure he con- 
 tinues to influence some v/ay or other. I cannot 
 suppose the Holy Ghost has wholly withdrawn him- 
 self from the church. ^ The renewing of the Holy 
 Ghost/ St. Peter says, ' was a promise made to 
 them and to their children, and to those that were 
 afar off, even as many as God should call ; ' and as 
 human nature has the same weakness and passions, 
 and extravagancies of former ages, there is as much 
 need of a divine assistance now as in the time of the 
 apostles : nay, more need, I think, at present, as 
 miracles are ceased. There must be a weight of 
 supernatural power to press within, as there are 
 now no flashings from the sky, or extraordinary 
 appearances without, to prove the certainty of our 
 religion, and make us consider its promises, threat- 
 enings, and rules : but the way this supernatural 
 principle acts, as before observed, is hard to deter- 
 mine, any more than what I have said, and instead 
 of wasting our time in enquiries how the thing is 
 done, our business is to render ourselves capable of 
 so great a blessing, by not grieving this holy spirit, 
 lest he depart from us; and resolving with the 
 psalmist, to walk with a perfect heart, and to set
 
 JOHX BUNCLE, ESQ. 245 
 
 no wicked thing before our eyes. We must strive to 
 improve religious thoughts : we must labour hard 
 to obey the written rules ; God will then give us the 
 grace sufficient for us. To our considerable talent 
 of natural power to do good, our Father will add 
 the advantages of his spirit. Jf we desire to be 
 good, he will make us good in conjunction with our 
 own application and pains ; by a gradual process, 
 and human methods. If nature gives her utmost 
 actings, the author of nature will move, and direct 
 and assist her where she is weak. Both the grace 
 and the providence of God may be likened to a 
 little spring concealed within a great machine : to 
 the known given powers of tiie machine, the opera- 
 tions of it are ascribed, and all its events imputed; 
 yet it is the small secreted spring that directs, draws, 
 checks, and gives movement to every weight and 
 wheel. The case cannot be exactly alike, as a com- 
 pound of matter and spirit is different from a 
 machine: but it may suggest I imagine some im- 
 perfect idea of the affair : a very imperfect one, I 
 confess, for if we were thinking ever so long of the 
 matter, grace after all would be what the apostle 
 calls it, an unspeakable gift. A gift surmounting 
 our apprehensions as well as it does our merit. The 
 theory of it may be perhaps too excellent for us, and 
 our part is, not to determine how, but with honest
 
 246 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hearts to pray, that a ray from heaven may open, 
 and shine upon our understanding, clear it from 
 prejudices and impostures, and render it teachable, 
 considerative and firm ; may inspire good thoughts, 
 excite good purposes^ and suggest wholesome coun- 
 sels and expedients. This the divine power may 
 easily do, without depriving us of free will, or les- 
 sening our own moral agency. That power may 
 extinguish an imagination we strive to get rid of: 
 may remove an impediment we labour to be freed 
 from : may foil a temptation we do our best to resist. 
 If we do all we can, and implore the divine aid, 
 there is no doubt but the Almighty may give his 
 free creatures such powers and dispositions, as will 
 carry them innocently and safely through the trials 
 of this first state. On such conditions, God, the 
 Father of spirits, the friend of men, the patron of 
 righteousness and all virtue, will, without all per- 
 advent.ure, distribute his grace to every mortal in 
 proportion to the measures of necessary duty." 
 
 Here Azoea ended, and I sat for some minutes 
 after in great admiration. Her fancy furnished ideas 
 so very fast, and speaking was so very easy to her, 
 without one pang in the delivery, or the least hesi- 
 tation for hours, as she could, if she pleased, so 
 long discourse ; her judgment was so strong, and 
 her words so proper and well placed, that she
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 247 
 
 appeared to me a prodigy in speaking, and I could 
 have listened to her with delight and amazement 
 the whole night. But exactly at ten o'clock, the 
 old woman I mentioned before, who first bid me 
 welcome to Burcoi-Lodge, came into the chamber 
 with candles, and Azoua told me, that if I would 
 follow Gladuse, she would light me to bed ; this 
 I did immediately, after wishing the ladies good 
 night, and my guide brought me to her own cottage, 
 which was next door to the grotto. She shewed 
 me into a small clean room, neatly and prettily 
 furnished, and there I found a good bed. Down I 
 lay as soon as I could, being much fatigued, and as 
 the sun was rising, got up again, to write what I 
 could remember to have heard Azora say. My 
 memorv from my childhood has been very extraor- 
 dinary. I believe there are few living exceed me in 
 this respect. The greatest part of what I read and 
 hear, remains with me, as if the book was still 
 before me, or the speaker going on. This enables 
 me to write down, with much exactness, what I 
 care to note, and I can do it for the most part in the 
 relater's or talker's own words, if I minute it in my 
 short hand within twenty-four hours after reading 
 or discoursing. Upon this account, I can say, that 
 I lost very little of all that Azora was pleased to
 
 248 THE LIFE OJ' 
 
 let me hear; or, of the discoures I had with her in- 
 genious companion, Anton i a Fletcher, 
 
 June 15th. — When I had done writing, I went 
 out to wait upon the ladies, and found them in their 
 fine gardens, busily employed in the useful and in- 
 nocent diversion which the cultivation of some of 
 the greatest beauties of the creation affords. They 
 had every kind of fruit-tree in their ground, every 
 plant and flower that grows, and such a variety of 
 exotic rarities from the hotter climates, as engaged 
 my admiration, and finely entertained me for many 
 an hour, during my stay in this place. They both 
 understood gardening to perfection, and continually 
 lent their helping hands to the propagation of every 
 thing. The digging and laborious work was per- 
 formed by many young women, who did it with 
 great activity and understanding, and the nicer 
 parts these ladies executed. 1 was astonished and 
 delighted with their operations of various kinds. It 
 was beautiful to see with what exquisite skill they 
 used the knife, managed grafFs, and cyons, directed 
 the branches and twigs in posture on espaliers, and 
 raised flowers. They had every thing in perfection 
 in their kitchen garden and physic garden. Their 
 fruits, roots, and herbs for the table, were most ex- 
 cellent; their collection of herbs for medicine the
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 249 
 
 most valuable : and as the whole contrivance of the 
 gardens approached nature, and beautiful in grass, 
 gravel, and variety of evergreens, I was led with 
 delight through the whole, till I Ciirae into the green- 
 house. There I saw Azora and Antonia at work, 
 and paid them the compliments they deserved. 
 
 Immediately after my arrival, breakfast was 
 brought in, chocolate and toast, and the ladies were 
 extremely pleasant over it. They asked me a great 
 many questions about the world, and were so face- 
 tious in their remarks, and pleased with my odd ac- 
 count of things, that they laughed as heartily as 
 I did, and that was at no small rate. This being 
 done, we walked over every part of the gardens, and 
 Azora did me the honour not only to shew me all 
 the curiosities, and improvements she had made, in 
 the management of seeds, flowers, plants, and trees; 
 but, lectured on various fine objects that appeared 
 in our way, with a volubility of tongue, and a know- 
 ledge of the subjects, that was amasing indeed. 
 Were I to set down what she said even on sallads, 
 cucumbers, cauliflowers, melons, asparagus, early 
 cabbages, strawberries, rasberries, currants, goos- 
 berries, apples, pears, plums, cherries, apricots, 
 &c. and especially her propagation of mushrooms 
 champignons, and buttons; this, exclusive of exotics, 
 and flowers, would make I believe an octavo: and
 
 250 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in relation to exotics and flowers, I am sure she 
 talked twice as much, and of every thing extremely 
 well. I never did hear any thing like her. The 
 discourse cost her no more than the breath of her 
 nostrils. 
 
 But at last we came to a fish-pond, that was an 
 acre of water, and I assure you, reader, in half an 
 hour's time the illustrious Azora not only talked 
 more of fish and ponds than the ingenious and 
 honourable Roger North, of Rougham in Norfolk, 
 hath written on these subjects in his excellent Dis- 
 course, printed in 1713, in 8vo. ; but, mentioned 
 many useful things relative to them, which Mr. 
 North was a stranger to. She told me, among 
 other matters, that there was only pike and perch 
 in her pond, and the reason of it was, because she 
 loved pike above all fish, and as the jacks were fish 
 of prey, no fish but the perch could live with them : 
 the perch on account of the thorny fins on its back, 
 escapes the pike's voracious appetite. She farther 
 informed me, that the jacks in her pond were the 
 finest in the world, as I would see at dinner, and 
 the reason of it was owing to the high feeding she 
 took care they had every day ; beside the entrails 
 of what fowl and sheep her people killed for her 
 table and themselves, the pike had blood and bran 
 mixed in plenty, and all the fjogs she could get
 
 JOHN BUXCLE, ESQ. O51 
 
 from a neighbouring fen ; for of them the jacks are 
 most fond. This made the fish extraordinary ; and 
 as the water was current through the pond, and the 
 bottom of various depths from one to six feet, that 
 the spawn may have shallow water to lie in, and the 
 fry shallow water to swim in, as they both required, 
 this was the reason, that one acre of water in such a 
 manner, produced double the quantity of fish to 
 what a pond of still water and a bottom all of one 
 depth, could have. See, continued Azora, what 
 multitudes there are. They know me, as I feed them 
 myself every day, and tamely come up, cruel tyrants 
 as they are; to get their meat. Here she called 
 * jack, jack,' and throwing in a basket of unfor- 
 tunate frogs, it was wonderful to see how those de- 
 vouring monsters appeared, and voraciously swal- 
 lowed the poor things. 
 
 Azora was going to proceed to another pond of 
 carp and tench, which she had at the other end of 
 her gardens, and let me know how that was ordered, 
 so as to produce the largest and finest fish: but a 
 bell rung for morning prayers, at ten o'clock, and 
 she immediately turned towards a chapel. She 
 asked me if I would attend divine service, and 
 upon my answering, with pleasure, desired me to 
 come on. In the church I saw every soul of the 
 community assembled, and while I chose to sit on
 
 •5<2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 one of the benches among the people, at some dis- 
 tance, that I might the better observe every thing 
 done, the ladies ascended by a few steps into a 
 reading desk, and Azora began with great devotion, 
 to pray in the following manner : 
 
 " O Christ, our blessed mediator, pray for us 
 that our faith fail not, and through thy merits and 
 intercession. Lord Jesus, let our prayer be set forth 
 in the sight of Almighty God as incense, and the 
 lifting up of our hands as a morning sacrifice. 
 
 '' Almighty and everlasting God, thou pure and 
 infinite Spirit, who art the great cause and author of 
 nature, and hast established the world by thy wis- 
 dom, and stretched out the heavens by thy discre- 
 tion; upon whom depends the existence of all 
 things, and by whose providence we have been pre- 
 served to this moment, and enjoyed many blessings 
 and undeserved advantages; graciously accept, we 
 beseech the, our grateful sense and acknowledge- 
 ments of all thy beneficence towards us ; accept, O 
 Lord, our most hearty and unfeigned thanks for all 
 the instances of thy favour which we have expe- 
 rienced ; that we have the use of our reason and un- 
 derstanding, in which many fail, and have had 
 refreshing sleep and quiet the past night ; for de- 
 livering us from evil, and giving us our daily bread ; 
 for all the necessaries, conveniencies, and comforts.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 253 
 
 which thy Uberal hand hast provided for us, to 
 sweeten human life, and render it more agreeable 
 than otherwise it could be in this day of our exer- 
 cise, probation and trial. While we live, we will 
 praise and magnify thy awful name, and join in 
 ascribing, with the glorious and innumerable hea- 
 venly host, honour, power, and thanksgiving to the 
 eternal God, who sits on the throne of supremacy 
 unrivalled in majesty and power. 
 
 " But especially, O great and blessed God, 
 adored be thy goodness for so loving the world, as 
 to give thy only begotten Son, to the end, that all 
 who believe in him, should not perish, but have 
 everlasting life ; for his humbling himself even to 
 the death upon the cross, and shedding his blood 
 for the remission of our sins. Great and marvel- 
 lous are thy worlds of mercy, O Lord God Almighty! 
 v/ho can utter all thy praise ? Praise our God, all ye 
 his sevants, and ye that fear him, small and great. 
 Amen ; allelujah. Blessing and honour, and glory, 
 and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, 
 and to the Lamb for ever and ever. 
 
 " O God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 have mercy on us dust and sin, weakness and im- 
 perfection, and enter not into strict judgment with 
 us, thine unrighteous and unworthy servants. We
 
 "-254 THE LIFE OF 
 
 confess, with shame and grief, that we have violated 
 thine holy laws, and abused they tender mercies ; 
 that we have followed too much the devices and de- 
 sires of our own hearts, and in numberless instances 
 have offended against a most righteous governor, a 
 most tender and compassionate Father, and a most 
 kind and bounteous benefactor. In thought, word, 
 and deed, many have been our offences ; and many 
 are still our imperfections. We have sinned against 
 Heaven, and before thee, and have thereby deserved 
 thy just displeasure. But our hope and confidence 
 is in thine infinite mercy, O God, and that accord- 
 ing to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ 
 Jesus, our Lord, thou wilt spare them who confess 
 their faults, and restore them that are penitent. We 
 do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for all 
 our misdoings. Through faith we offer up the Lamb 
 that was slain to the eternal God for the redemption 
 of our souls; believing the worthiness of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ to be a full, perfect, aud sufficient 
 sacrifice, oblation and atonement for the sins of a 
 repenting world, and therefore resolving, with all 
 our strength, to imitate his spotless virtue, and per- 
 fect obedience. Pardon us, then, we beseech thee, 
 and blot out our iniquities. Deliver us, we pray, in 
 the name of the Lord Jesus, from the evil conse-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 255 
 
 quences of all our transgressions and follies, and 
 give us such powers and dispositions as will carry 
 us* innocently and safely through all future trials. 
 
 " Create in us, O God, pure hearts, and renew 
 right spirits within us. Cast thy bright beams of 
 light upon our souls, and irradiate our understand- 
 ings with the rays of that wisdom which sitteth on 
 the right hand of thy throne. Let thy holy spirit 
 enable us to act up to the dignity of our reasonable 
 nature, and suitably to the high character, and glo- 
 rious hopes of Christians ; that we may subordinate 
 the affairs and transactions of time to serve the in- 
 terest of our souls in eternity ; that we may shake 
 off this vain world, and breathe after immortality 
 and glory ; that we may live in perfect reconcilia- 
 tion with the law of everlasting righteousness, truth, 
 and goodness; and so comply with thy nature, 
 mind, and will, O eternal and sovereign spirit, thou 
 God most wonderful in all perfections, that we may 
 fully answer the relation we stand in to thee. Re- 
 lieve and ease our consciences, O blessed God, by 
 the blood of sprinkling, according to our several 
 conditions of body and mind; and supply us with 
 suitable grace and strength. 
 
 " We beseech thee, in the next place. Almighty 
 Lord, to take us into thy protection this day, and 
 suffer no being to injure us, no misfortune to befal
 
 256 THE LIFE OF 
 
 US, nor us to hurt ourselves by any error or mis- 
 conduct of our own. Give us, O God, a clear con- 
 ception of things, and in all dangers and distresses, 
 stretch forth the right hand of thy majesty to help 
 and defend us. From sickness and pain, and from 
 all evil and mischief, good Lord deliver us this day, 
 and be propitious unto us, we beseech thee. 
 
 " And while we remain in this world, O Father, 
 Lord of heaven and earth, secure us from every 
 thing that is terrible and hurtful, and keep us in 
 peace and safety. From all sad accidents and 
 calamitous events, from all tormenting pains and 
 grievous diseases, good Lord deliver us ; and bless 
 us with so much health and prosperity, as will 
 enable us to pass our time here in contentment and 
 tranquillity. 
 
 *' And when the time of our dissolution shall 
 come, by the appointment of thy adorable wisdom, 
 O Father of mercies and the God of all comforts, 
 grant us a decent and happy exit; without distrac- 
 tion of mind or torments of body : let thy servants 
 depart in peace, and suddenly die in the Lord. 
 
 " We pray, likewise, for the happiness of all 
 mankind : that they may all know, and obey, and 
 worship thee, O Father, in spirit and in truth, 
 and that all who name the name of Christ, may de- 
 part from iniquity, and live as becomes his holy
 
 JOHX BUNGLE, ESQ. 
 
 gospel. We beseech thee to help and comfort all 
 who are in danger, necessity, sickness, and tribula- 
 tion : that it may please thee to sanctify their afflic- 
 tions, and in thy good time to deliver them out of 
 all their distresses. If we have any enemies, O 
 Lord forgive them, and turn their hearts. 
 
 " Our Father, &c." 
 
 When this extraordinary prayer was done, which 
 was prayed with a very uncommon devotion, such as 
 I never had seen before ; they all stood up, and 
 AzoRA said, " Let us sing the nineteenth psalm to 
 the praise and glory of the most high God," and im- 
 mediately raised it. Then all the people joined, 
 and a psalm was sung to perfection indeed. Azora 
 and AxTONiA had delightful voices, and as they 
 understood music very well, they had taught this 
 congregation so much church harmony, as enabled 
 them to perform beyond any thing I have ever heard 
 in any assembly of people. The whole scene was a 
 strange and pleasing thing. They met again at 
 four in the afternoon ; and this is the work of their 
 every day. At ten and four they go to prayers, and 
 after it sing a psalm ; concluding always in the fol- 
 lowing way. *' May the grace of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ procure us the love of God, that the Almighty 
 Father of the universe may bless us with the heavenly 
 assistance of the Holy Ghost." 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE LIFE OF 
 
 As to the evening-office of devotion at this 
 place, it was, exclusive of the first address, and the 
 concluding Lord's Prayer, quite different from that 
 of the morning ; and because some readers may be 
 pleased with a sight of another of A zora's religious 
 compositions, I here set it down. 
 
 '' O Christ, our blessed mediator, pray for us, 
 that our faith fail not, and through thy merits and 
 intercession. Lord Jesus, let our prayer be set forth 
 in the sight of Almighty God as incense, and the 
 lifting up of our hands as an evening-sacrifice. 
 
 *' O God, who art the Father and Lord of all 
 beings, and the eternal and inexhaustible fountain 
 of mercy, we beseech thee to be merciful unto us, 
 and to blot out all our transgressions ; for we truly 
 repent of our wilful imperfections, our failings and 
 neglects, in every instance of thy law, and our duty : 
 and through faith we offer up to thee the Lamb that 
 was slain for the redemption of our souls : believing 
 the worthiness of our Lord Jesus to be a full, per- 
 fect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation and atonement 
 for the sins of a repenting world, and therefore re- 
 solving, with all our strength, to imitate his spotless 
 virtue and perfect obedience. 
 
 '' Remember not, then, O Lord, our iniquities, 
 neither take thou vengeance for our sins ; but as we 
 sincerely believe thy holy gospel, and are truly peni-
 
 JOHN EUNCLE, ESQ. 259 
 
 tent, as we entirely and willingly forgive all, who 
 have, in any instance or in any degree, offended, or 
 injured us, and are truly disposed and ready to 
 make all possible reparation, if v/e have injured any 
 one, have mercy upon us miserable sinners, and as 
 thou hast promised by thy Son, pardon and forgive 
 us all our sins, and restore us again to thy favour. 
 Hear in heaven, thy dwelling place, and when thou 
 hearest, accept us to thy mercy. O spare us whom 
 thou hast redeemed by thy Son's most precious 
 blood, and make us partakers of that salvation 
 which thou hast appointed in Christ Jesus our Lord, 
 and our souls shall bless thee to eternity. 
 
 " And that we may no more offend thee, or 
 transgress the rule of virtue or true religion, but 
 may hereafter truly please thee both in will and 
 deed, and faithfully observe the right statutes, and 
 all thy precepts, endue us, O Lord, with the grace 
 of thy holy spirit, that we may amend our lives ac- 
 cording to thy holy word. Vouchsafe we beseech 
 thee, to direct, sanctify and govern both our hearts 
 and bodies in the ways of thy laws, and in the 
 works of thy commandments; and so teach us to 
 number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto 
 wisdom, and mind those things which are in con- 
 junction with our everlasting welfare. O let us be 
 always under thy communication and influence, and
 
 260 THE LIFE OF 
 
 give that light to our minds, that life to our souls 
 that will raise us to a nearer resemblance of thee, 
 and enable us to ascend still higher, towards the 
 perfection of our nature. Let us be transformed by 
 the working of thy grace and spirit into the image of 
 thy son. Conform us to his likeness, O blessed 
 God, and make us, body and soul, an habitation for 
 thyself; that in our hearts we may continually offer 
 up to thee, holy, sublime, and spiritual sacrifices. 
 
 ** From all evil and mischief, good God deliver 
 us, and defend us we beseech thee, from every thing 
 terrible and hurtful. Take us under thy protection 
 the remaining part of this day, and grant us a night 
 of peace, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
 ** And forasmuch as our earthly house of this 
 tabernacle shall be dissolved, and that in a few years 
 at farthest, it may be in a few minutes, we must de- 
 scend to the bed of darkness, and acknowledge cor- 
 ruption to be our father, and the worms our sister 
 and mother, grant, O everlasting God, that we may 
 depart in peace, and by an improved principle of 
 divine life, under the influence of the gospel be 
 translated to that eternal world, where God dwells, 
 where Christ lives, and sanctified souls enjoy end- 
 less life and the purest pleasures, for evermore. 
 
 '* That it may please thee, most gracious and 
 good God, to have mercy on the whole race of man-.
 
 JOHN EUNCLE, ESQ. 261 
 
 kind, and to bless them with all things pertaining to 
 life and g^odliness : let the li^ht of thy o-lorious 8:0s- 
 pel shine upon the nations darkened by superstition, 
 that they may worship thee who art God from ever- 
 lasting to ev^erlasting, and cultivate and establish in 
 their minds the most pure, benevolent, and godlike 
 dispositions. We beseech thee for all Christian 
 churches ; that their behaviour may, by the influ- 
 ence of thy blessed spirit, be suitable to their holy 
 profession, and their conversation upright and un- 
 blamable. Where any have departed from the 
 purity and simplicity of the gospel, lead them, O 
 God, to the right practice and knowledge of their 
 holy religion ; and grant that they may feel the com- 
 fortable and sanctifying effects of it ; and in their 
 lives shew forth its praise to others. We farther 
 pray, most merciful Father, for all that are destitute 
 or afflicted, either in body, mind, or estate; that 
 from Heaven, the habitation of thy glory and good- 
 ness, thou would send them relief, and, if it be pos- 
 sible, put an end to their present calamities and 
 troubles. O thou Father of mercies, and God of all 
 consolation, bind up the broken in heart, and com- 
 fort those that mourn. We have a real sense of the 
 miseries of the distressed part of mankind, and ofter 
 up for them our prayers to thee, through Jesus 
 Christ our Lord."
 
 262 THE LIFE OF 
 
 A THANKSGIVING. 
 
 " O God, the author of all good, and the foun- 
 tain of all happiness, we offer up our thanksgivings 
 and praises unto thee, for thy great goodness to us, 
 and to all mankind. We praise and magnify thy 
 holy name for all thy mercies ; for our existence, 
 and the use of our reasoning powers and faculties; 
 for the health and strength we enjoy, and for all the 
 comforts and conveniencies of life : for these thy 
 gifts we adore thee, O munificent parent of good, 
 and pray that a deep and efficacious sense of thy 
 goodness may remain upon our hearts, and be a 
 principle of constant and cheerful obedience to thy 
 holy laws. 
 
 " But especially we ofter up the acknowledge- 
 ments of our hearts and mouths for all that thy Son 
 Jesus Christ did, and taught, and suffered, in this 
 world, to save us from our sins, and to conduct us 
 to true and everlasting happiness. We bless thee 
 for the glorious gospel, and for bringing us more 
 effectually, by revelation, to the knowledge of thee, 
 and the practice of our duty. For this merciful 
 appointment, and for all thy mercies, which respect 
 another and a better life than the present; for every 
 instance of thy tender regards to us, and for the 
 manifold experiences which we have had of thy
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 263 
 
 loving kindness ; we offer up the tribute of un- 
 feigned thanks. Our souls do magnify thee, O 
 Lord God most excellent and good, and all the 
 powers within us praise thy holy name. To thee 
 be glory in the church by Christ Jesus, throughout 
 all ages, world without end. To thee, O thou God 
 of love, be rendered by all beings endued with rea- 
 son, all honour and obedience, both now, and for 
 ever. 
 
 " Almighty and everlasting God, who hast pro- 
 mised to hear the petitions of them that pray unto 
 thee in thy Son's name, we beseech thee of thy great 
 mercy, to accept the sacrifice of prayer and praise, 
 which we have this evening oflPered up to thy divine 
 Majesty ; and for the relief of our wants, and the 
 manifestation of thy power and glory, grant us those 
 things which we have requested, if thou seest it con- 
 sistent with our chief and eternal good. In the 
 name of thy Son Jesus Christ, and his disciples, we 
 pray, and in his words conclude the services of this 
 day. 
 
 •' Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be 
 thy name, &c." 
 
 After this, they all stood up, and as in the morn- 
 ing, AzoRA said, '* let us sing to the praise and 
 glory of God the 148th psalm." She sung the first 
 verse alone, and at the second, they all joined, and
 
 264 THE LIFE OF 
 
 went through the whole in a fine and heavenly man- 
 ner. Then the service concluded with this bene- 
 diction. 
 
 THE BENEDICTION. 
 
 *' May the God of grace and peace be with us 
 and bless us. May his holy spirit keep us from 
 falling, and preserve us blameless, unto the coming 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 Thus ended the evening and morning offices of 
 worship at Burcot-Lodge, and as I cannot suffi- 
 ciently praise, so I could not enough admire the re- 
 ligion and piety of this congreation. The purity of 
 their worship was charming : and in the ladies and 
 their people a devotion was manifest, that looked 
 more like that of heavenly spirits, than of beings in 
 an animal frame ; who are warped with the customs 
 of the world, and perplexed with difficulties which 
 arise from sensible objects. They appeared in high 
 admiration of God, endeared to his righteous govern- 
 ment, devoted to his holy laws, and powerfully 
 drawn to imitate him in all his imitable perfections. 
 Not one idle word, or careless look, did I hear or 
 see during the whole time of divine service ; but, 
 like creatures fixed unchangeably in the interest of 
 religion and virtue, and delighted with ihe^oys of 
 piety, their hearts melted in every part of their de-
 
 JOHN BL'NCLE, ESQ. 20." 
 
 votions, and their breasts were filled with tlie most 
 grateful transporting adorations and affections. So 
 much beautiful religion I had not often seen in any 
 assembly. They had a true sense indeed of the 
 love and goodness of God, and of the grace and 
 charity of Jesus Christ. They had all been care- 
 fully instructed by a wise and excellent man, who 
 was not long since removed from them by death ; 
 and his daughter, the admirable Azora, in conjunc- 
 tion with his niece, the amiable Antonia, took 
 all possible pains, since the decease of Mr. Burcot, 
 to maintain the power of religion in their commu- 
 nity, and keep the people hearty and steady in the 
 principles and practice of it. This brings me again 
 to the history of Azora. 
 
 AzoRA Burcot was the daughter of a gentle- 
 man who was once possessed of a very great fortune, 
 but by a fatal passion for the grand operation, and 
 an opinion of the possibility of finding the philoso- 
 pher's stone., he wasted immense sums in operations 
 to discover that preparation, which forces the fseces 
 of infused metals to retire immediately on its ap- 
 proach, and so turns the rest of the mass into pure 
 gold ; communicating the malleability and great duc- 
 tility of that metal, and giving it true specific gravity, 
 that is, to water, as eighteen and one half is to one. 
 His love of that fine, ancient art, called chymistry,
 
 ^66 THE LIFE OF 
 
 brought him into this misfortune. For improve- 
 ment and pleasure, he had been long engaged in 
 various experiments, and at last, an adept came to 
 his house, who was a man of great skill in the 
 labours and operations of spagyrists, and persuaded 
 him it was possible to find the stone ; for he, the 
 adept, had seen it with a brother, who had been so 
 fortunate as to discover it, after much labour and 
 operation. The colour of it was a pale brimstone 
 and transparent, and the size that of a small walnut. 
 He affirmed that he had seen a little of this scraped 
 into powder, cast into some melted lead, and turn 
 it into the best and finest gold. This had the effect 
 the adept desired, and from chymistry brought Mr. 
 Burcot to alchymy. Heaps of money he wasted in 
 operations of the most noble elixir by mineral and 
 salt ; but the stone after all he could not find : and 
 then, by the adept's advice, he proceeded in a second 
 method, by maturation, to subtilize, purify, and digest 
 quicksilver, and thereby convert it into gold*. This 
 
 * There is a third way to make gold, to wit, by sepa- 
 ration, for every metal contains some quantity of gold ; 
 but the quantity is so small that it bears no proportion 
 to the expense of getting it out : this last way the Spa- 
 gyrists never attempt ; and as for the two other methods, 
 maturation, and transmuting by the grand elixir, the 
 happy hour will never come, though so many ingenious
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 267 
 
 likewise came to nothing, and instead of the gold he 
 expected, he had only heaps of mercury fixed with 
 
 men have often thought it drawing nigh. To console 
 them for the loss of their fortunes they have had some 
 comfortable moments of reflection, that they have been 
 within some minutes of success, when crack! all is gone 
 and vanished on a sudden, and they have nothing before 
 them but cinders and broken crucibles. It is very 
 strange then, that a man of Dr. Dickenson's great vera- 
 city and skill in chymistry, should affirm the tiling was 
 actually done in his presence by an adept; and the more 
 so, as his friend, the Honourable Robert Boyle, told 
 him the thing was an impossibility. Dickenson's words 
 are, " Nee potui sane quantacunque mihi fuerit opinio 
 de ista re, quin aliquoties animi penderem donee illustris 
 ea demonstratio quam vestra excellentia, biennio jam 
 elapso, coram exhibuit, omnem ansam dubitandi mihi 
 praecidisset." And again " Placuit dominationi vestrae 
 claro experimento ante oculos facto animum meum ad 
 opus accendere atque ; etiam qusestionum mearum solu- 
 tiones, quantum licerat, promittere." ride Epidola ad 
 Theod. Mundanum Phiiosophum Adeptum, de Quint essentia 
 PhilosophoTum, de Vera Physiologia, <|c, Oxon. J 636. This 
 is very surprising; and the more so, as the greatest 
 watchings and closest application, in searching after the 
 stone, are all in vain, unless the stars shed a propitious 
 influence on the labours of the Spagyrist: the work must 
 be begun and advance in proper planetary hours, and
 
 IC)3 THE LIFE OF 
 
 verdegrease, which gives it a yellow tinge, and more 
 deeply coloured with turmeric. Gold it seemed, 
 
 depends as much on judicial astrology, as on fire, cam- 
 phire, salt, labour and patience : but judicial astrology 
 is no science. It is a mere farce. I must conclude then, 
 that the hands of Mundanus the adept, were too quick 
 for the doctor's eyes, and he deceived him by legerde- 
 main : that all the books on the subject are fraudulent 
 descriptions to deceive the credulous ; and what Munda- 
 nus told Dickenson of Sir George Riplej^, canon of Brid- 
 lington, in Yorkshire, in the reign of Edward the Fourth, 
 and of Raymund Lully, was mere invention. He affirmed 
 that Ripley sent the knights of Rhodes an hundred 
 thousand pounds to support them in their wars against 
 the Turks: and that Lully assisted Edward 1. king of 
 England, with six millions of gold, towards carrying on 
 tlie Crusade. This piece of secret history he assures us 
 he found in an ancient manuscript of indisputable autho- 
 rity, quod inculpatcE Jidei regislris innotescit : A manuscript 
 that no one ever saw except Mundanus himself; penes me 
 indeed, it was to be found only in his own head. 
 
 Ripley is in great repute among the adepts to this 
 day, and his famous unintelligible and mysterious book 
 is called A Compound of Alchymie conteyning Twelve Gates. 
 He inscribed the manuscript to Edward IV, but the 
 editor dedicated it to Q.Elizabeth, affirming that it con- 
 tained the right method of making the philosophei*'s 
 stone and auruw polalite. Lully was a very learned man.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^(;9 
 
 but, on trial in the coppel, it flew away in fumes and 
 the adept made off. Too late this good and learned 
 man saw he had been imposed on, and that the 
 Spagyrists are in reality what Dr. Dickenson calls 
 them, Enigmatistinubivagi* 
 
 Chymistry, reader, is a fine and ancient art. 
 The analysing of sensible bodies by fire, to discover 
 their real powers and virtues, is highly praise- worthy, 
 and the surprising experiments we make, fill the 
 mind of an inquirer after truth, with the greatest 
 veneration for the wonderful author of nature : but 
 more than this, is a sad romance that ends in empty 
 pockets. Never think then of The Hermetical Ban- 
 quet, Glauber's Golden Ass, or the Philosopher s 
 Magical Gold, f By the law of honest industry, en- 
 
 for the latter end of the thirteenth century, and wrote 
 several books in Latin; Generales Artium Libri. Libri 
 Logicales, Philosophici et Metaphisici ; Variarum Artium 
 Libri; Libri Spirituales Prcedicabiles, and the Vade Mecum 
 Lullii ; which treats more particularly on the Philoso- 
 pher's Stone. 
 
 * Life of Edmund Dickenson, M. D. Physician in Ordi- 
 nary to Charles IL, and James IL by WUliam Nicolas 
 Blomberg, 1739, 8vo. p. 135. From this work, the whole 
 that has here been advanced respecting Alchymy, is ex- 
 tracted, pp. 87-139. 
 
 t As to the aurum potabile mentioned by Ripley,
 
 270 THE LIFE OF 
 
 deavour to be rich if you can, for this sole reason, 
 that it is more blessed to give than to receive ; and 
 
 which was then and lon<? after esteemed a panacea, or 
 univeral medicine, it is now a question if there can be 
 a tincture of gold ; for if it be only a division of the 
 lests, or minims of g'old, by the spicula of aqua regia, 
 and these minims thrown into oil of rosemary where they 
 swim, it is no radical tincture of gold, and the sole virtue 
 lies in the oil of rosemary. The oil may be evaporated; 
 the gold dust remains ; and that by melting is reduced 
 to a lump of gold again. This I have experimented. 
 But the alchy mists say, gold may be reduced into a gum 
 of substance like honey, without any corrosive, and that 
 gum steeped in spirit of wine acquires a ruby colour. 
 An ounce of this is to be mixed with sixteen ounces of 
 another liquor, and we have aurum potabile ; sovereign 
 in all distempers. This seems to me to be a second part 
 of the romance . The making of this golden gum is a 
 secret we can no more come at than the philosophers 
 stone. The adepts however assert it, and assure us, 
 that Moses could make aurum potabile, as is evident 
 from his pulverising the golden calf, and giving it to the 
 children of Israel to drink. This great man, who wrote 
 540 years before Homer : 200 before Sanchoniatho ; and 
 350 before the Trojan war, was, as they inform us, an 
 adept. 
 
 [The story of " pulverising the golden calf," a rab- 
 binical impertinence, which Calmet in his Commeniaire
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 271 
 
 if that lies not within your capacity, or means, be 
 content with peace and little. There is more true 
 happiness in daily bread, and the possession of the 
 divine and social virtues, than in tons of gold with- 
 out holiness and a strong attachment to virtue. 
 
 When Mr. Burcot found he had almost ruined 
 himself, and that he was no longer able to live as he 
 had done, he laid his melancholy case before his 
 daughter Azora, and asked her advice, what he 
 should do ? Her counsel was, to retire immediately 
 to this part of Stanemore, which was an unvalued 
 part of his estate, and bring as many of his tenants 
 as he could persuade to inhabit this fine tract of 
 land ; to sell what remained of his fortune, and 
 with the money procure as many of the necessaries 
 or comforts of living as could be had, to get in par- 
 ticular some young tradesmen and their wives by 
 offered rewards in this place ; to build cottages for 
 the people ; and render the fine caverns in the rock 
 as habitable and pleasing for themselves as art could 
 render them. " Here," said Azora, ** we shall live 
 more happy than we could do, if still possessed of a 
 
 Literal sur l^Exode, eh. xxxii. ver. 20. owns himself 
 ashamed to mention, as well as the probability, that 
 Moses was an adept, has met with a full investigation in 
 the Life of Edmund Dickenson, noticed ut supra, pp. l62- 
 171.] Ed.
 
 THE LiPE or 
 
 fortune to make an appearance in the world. We 
 shall enjoy by industry and prudence every good 
 thing that rational life can require, and live secured 
 from the strokes of fortune, and the world's con- 
 tempt. Strangers to vanity and the pleasures of 
 high life, in this delightful retreat, we shall pass 
 our happy days as in a region of goodness, know- 
 ledge, and joy; and the predominant bent of our 
 hearts will be to wisdom, and virtue, and to ascend 
 into the realms of perfect day." " Happy advice/' 
 the father of Azora said, and the thing was im- 
 mediately done. A colony was quickly established 
 here, and every thing was settled and ordered 
 in the most advantageous manner. Cattle, instru- 
 ments, and grain to sow the land were sent in; 
 clothes and every material the little republic could 
 want were provided, and every hand was as useful 
 as we could wish. " For four years," Azoiia con- 
 tinued to inform me, " we lived in peace and tran- 
 quillity, and never once regretted the loss of our 
 fortunes. We were happier far than when we had 
 thousands. Industry, knowledge, and religion, were 
 our employment. The night to come of pain and 
 death gave us no uneasiness. We lived as the 
 Christians of the two first centuries, and rather 
 longed for than feared that event, which is to remove 
 us to growing brightness for ever and ever. But a
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 2*3 
 
 fever came in among us, and swept away my father, 
 and every man of our little republic : several women 
 likewise perished ; but a hundred souls remained. 
 Ninety-eight women, besides Antonia and Azora. 
 These loved me too well," she continued, " to aban- 
 don me; and as they were happily situated, and 
 many of them had learned their husband's trades, 
 they agreed and swore to spend their lives with me 
 here, and be as serviceable as possible, without ad- 
 mitting any men to live among us. They are so in 
 the highest degree : they are all useful and pious as 
 I could wish them, and under the heavens there is 
 not a happier society of mortals. We have the best 
 of every thing : all we want, and in reason could 
 wish for." 
 
 Here Azora ended her relation, and I wondered 
 greatly at what I heard; nor did my admiration 
 lessen when I saw how she governed this commu- 
 nity, and they employed their time. Her great un- 
 derstanding enlightened and directed them, in the 
 execution of every thing serviceable and ingenious ; 
 and she lived before their eyes an example of the 
 greatest industry, and the most exalted piety. They, 
 on the other hand, were as useful and religious 
 as possible, and so heartily and faithfully discharged 
 social duties, in every instance, that they seamed as 
 one great capacity and power at work, to promote 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE LIFE OF 
 
 every convenience and good. Some of them, as I 
 have said, were at work in the gardens : others in 
 the fields : various trades and occupations were 
 going on within doors and without, and all were 
 employed in ways that best subserved the general 
 welfare. In their behaviour, there was nothing wild, 
 insolent, or arch, to be seen : no swellings of vanity 
 and pride : no passion to disoblige : no intention to 
 offend; but, every one, discreet and calm; good- 
 humoured, and very civil ; worthily sustaining their 
 various relations, and each attentive to her own in- 
 cumbent duty. Their labours v/ere but a diversion 
 to them, and they lived in tranquillity and plenty. 
 Their clothing was coarse, but very good, clean, 
 and handsome. There was not one ragged or dirty 
 person among them ; nor any with bad shoes and 
 stockings. In all respects they seemed a most 
 happy community. Azora studied, to the utmost 
 degree, the advantage and happiness of these people : 
 and they, in return, made their duty a vigorous and 
 cheerful service. Most of the conveniences and 
 comforts of life they had within their own little ter- 
 ritory; flesh and fish, mutton, kid, and venison; 
 corn for bread, every vegetable ; malt-drink, meath, 
 and cyder; all in great plenty, and most excellent; 
 wool and flax for clothing ; good candles ; and wood 
 enough for firing. What things they wanted two of
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. ^75 
 
 them rode for to the nearest town, and not only pur- 
 chased such goods with the money they got by sale 
 of several commodities; especially knit thread stock- 
 ings and gloves ; but always at such times brought 
 in some cash to their mistress, and she gave part of 
 it among the people, to buy them little things they 
 fancied. 
 
 As to the ten young women I mentioned, who 
 walked after Azora when first I saw her, they were 
 the daughters of some widows in this little republic, 
 and by her chosen, not only to be her attendants 
 and upper servants, and to look after her dairy, her 
 bees, her poultry, and her aviary ; which was the finest 
 I have ever seen, for the variety of birds, and as it 
 was turfed, to avoid the appearance of foulness on 
 the floor, and so large as to give the birds some 
 freedom of flight ; but, on account of their good un- 
 derstanding, in which they far excelled their fellows. 
 These girls were carefully instructed by Azosa and 
 Antonia, and beside being taught the fine works of 
 the needle, learned music, and the elements of the 
 mathematics from the ladies. The eldest of these 
 girls was but twenty, and the youngest eighteen, and 
 they all surprised me very greatly with their quick- 
 ness in answering very hard arithmetical questions. 
 They could not only add, subtract, multiply, divide, 
 find a fourth proportional, and extract roots of every
 
 276 THE LIFE OF 
 
 kind, with exactness and readiness, and apply them 
 upon all common occasions ; but were perfect in 
 fractions vulgar and decimal. They had even gone 
 as far in algebra as the resolution of simple equa- 
 tions. 
 
 Finding them one morning at figures, I asked 
 the youngest of them, what was the number, that 
 4 of it with 4 over, amounted to the same as ^.^ of 
 it with 9 over? She immediately translated the ques- 
 tion from common language into algebra 4'^ + 4 
 = 4^ 4- 9 : and quickly discovered the unknown 
 quantity x to be .r = 60 : Then she took it in sinthe- 
 tically, 4 of 60=40 + 4 = 44 : ^ of 60 =35 -f 9 
 = 44. — (Sinthetically is tracing property from num- 
 ber : — Analetically is tracing number from pro- 
 perty.) This made me wonder very greatly. I 
 asked another of them, if she bought 20 loaves for 
 16 pence, all of them two-penny, penny, and farth- 
 ing ones — how many would she have of each ? She 
 answered 5 two-penny loaves, 3 penny ones, and 12 
 farthing loaves ; for the equations were x -\- y -\- z 
 = 20 and 8j:-f-4z/ = 2 = 64. From whence by 
 subtraction, 7x -{- 3y = 44, and of consequence, 
 
 I asked a third, how many ways she could pay 
 20Z. in pistoles, guineas, and moidores, at 17s. 21s. 
 and 27s. the pistole, the guinea, and the moidore ?
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 27' 
 
 She replied in a very little time, 9 ways, to wit, 
 1 1 pistoles, 5 guineas, and 4 moidores — 8 pistoles, 
 1 guinea, 9 moidores — 8 pistoles, 10 guineas, "2 moi- 
 dores — 17 pistoles, 4 guineas, 1 moidore — 2 pis- 
 toles, 2 guineas, 12 moidores — 2 pistoles, 11 
 guineas, 5 moidores — 5 pistoles, 6 guineas, 7 moi- 
 dores — 5, 15, O — and 14 pistoles, guineas, 6 moi- 
 dores. This was a hard operation. 
 
 I asked another of these young women, if her 
 lady gave her 297 guineas and 339 pistoles, to pay 
 6 men a hundred pounds a piece in guineas and pis- 
 toles only, as was agreed, how could she contrive 
 to pay them, and dispatch the thing ? I will tell you, 
 sir, she answered, very soon, x represents my 
 guineas, and y my pistoles, and 21 ir + 17 y = 
 2000 , of consequence, x = 200^zlZ^ = 95 -f '^-T^ ; 
 &c. and quickly discovered, that the first man should 
 have 92 guineas and 4 pistoles : — the second man, 
 75 guineas and 25 pistoles : — the third, 58 guineas, 
 45 pistoles : — the fourth, 41 guineas and 67 pistoles : 
 — the fifth, 24 guineas and bS pistoles : — and the 
 sixth man, 7 guineas and 109 pistoles. This was 
 admirable. But is there no other way I said of 
 paying lOOZ. in guineas and pistoles, besides the six 
 ways you have mentioned ? There is no other way, 
 the fine girl answered. If a seventh man was to be 
 paid lOO^. in these two kinds of money, he must be
 
 278 THE LIFE or 
 
 paid in one of these six methods. This was true. 1 
 was charmed with what I heard. 
 
 While I was thus engaged with the maids, 
 AzoRA and Anton lA came into the room, and 
 finding how I had been employed, they began to 
 talk of problems, theorems, and equations, and soon 
 convinced me, that I was not superior to them in 
 this kind of knowledge ; though I had studied it for 
 a much longer time, and had taken more pains than 
 ever they did. Their fine understandings saw at 
 once the things that made me sweat many an hour, 
 and in less time than I required for an operation, 
 they could answer the most difficult questions, and 
 do any thing in simple quadratic equations, and in 
 the composition and resolution of ratios. This I 
 thought very wonderful ; especially as they had been 
 taught no longer than one year by Mr. Burcot; and 
 that they had acquired the most abstruse part of 
 their knowledge by their own application. I note 
 the thing: down as one of the strangest and most ex- 
 traordinary cases that ever came in my way : per- 
 haps, that ever was heard. It is such a specimen 
 of female understanding, as must for ever knock up 
 the positive assertions of some learned men, who 
 will not allow that women have as strong reasoning 
 heads as the men. 
 
 By the way, I observe, exclusive of these two
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 279 
 
 ladies, that I have seen many of the sex who were 
 distinguished for accuracy and comprehensiveness, 
 not only in the science, where known and required 
 qualities are denoted by letters, but in other fine 
 parts of learning. I have little right to pretend to 
 any thing extraordinary in understanding, as my 
 ■genius is slow, and such is common in the lower 
 classes of men of letters ; yet, my appHcation has 
 been very great : my whole life has been spent in 
 reading and thinking : and nevertheless, I have met 
 with many women^ in my time, who, with very little 
 reading have been too hard for me on several sub- 
 jects. In justice, I declare this; and am very cer- 
 tain from what I have heard numbers of them say, 
 and seen some of them write, that if they had the 
 laboured education the men have, and applied to 
 books with all possible attention for as many years 
 as we do ; there would be found among them as 
 great divines as Episcopius, Limborch, Whichcote, 
 Barrow, Tillotson, and Clarke ; and as great mathe- 
 maticians, as M'Laurin, Saunderson, and Simpson. 
 The critics may laugh at this assertion, I know they 
 will : and, if they please, they may doubt my vera- 
 city as to what I relate of the two ladies, and the 
 ten young women, in Burcot-Hamlet ; but what I 
 say is true notwithstanding. Facts are things too 
 stubborn to be destroyed by laughing and doubting.
 
 ^80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 As to the ladies I have mentioned, they both did 
 wonders in specious arithmetic; but Azora was the 
 brightest of the two, and in pure algebra, had gone 
 much further than Antonia. With wonder I be- 
 held her, while she answered the most difficult 
 questions as fast as fingers could move ; and in the 
 solution of cubics, and the resolution of equations, 
 both according to Des Cartes laborious method, and 
 the better universal way, by converging series, work 
 with a celerity and truth beyond what I have ever 
 seen any man do. Nor was it only algebra in- 
 dependent of geometry that she understood. She 
 could apply its reasoning to geometrical figures, 
 and describe the loci of any equations by the me- 
 chanical motion of angles and lines. She was in 
 this respect the greatest prodigy I ever saw. 
 
 But it was not on account of this excellence that 
 I so much admired Azora, and honour her memory 
 so greatly as I do ; nor because she talked so ex- 
 cellently on various subjects, as I have related; but, 
 for her knowledge of the truths of Christianity, and 
 the habits of goodness she had wrought into her 
 soul ; for the care she took of the people under her 
 government, by communicating every felicity in her 
 power, to their bodies and minds ; and the pure 
 religion of Christ Jesus, which she pubhcly main- 
 tained, in all the beauty of hoHness and, in a just
 
 JOIJX BUNCLE, ESQ. 281 
 
 fervour of practice. She was herself, in her manners 
 and piety, a fine copy of those blessed women who 
 conversed with our Lord and his apostles : and her 
 society, in innocence and goodness, in usefulness 
 and devotion, seemed an epitome of the first Chris- 
 tian church at Jerusalem. Under a just impression 
 of the most heavenly principles they all lived, and 
 strictly regarded their several offices. As the gospel 
 directs, they worshipped a first cause, the Deity, as 
 the disciples of the Christ of God, our holy medi- 
 ator ; and the authority of a being of infinite wisdom, 
 and unchangeable rectitude of nature, had made 
 such an impression upon their minds, that they 
 laboured continually to acquire that consecration 
 and sanctity of heart and manners, which our divine 
 religion requires. /Excellent community ! happy 
 v/ould Europe be, if all her states were like this 
 people. A false religion would not then prevail ; 
 nor would superstition be the idol to which the 
 world bows down. The evils, which now dishonour 
 human nature, and infest society, would not be seen 
 among us ; nor those excesses of passion be known, 
 which are the parent of discord and calamity, and 
 render this lower world one scene of sin and sorrow : 
 but, as revelation inculcates, as reason suggests, 
 mankind would worship the Almighty Principle, the 
 One God, the Only True God, with a worship suit-
 
 582 THE LIFE OF 
 
 able to the nature of a Being, who is not confined 
 to, or dependent upon, particular places and cir- 
 cumstances, who is always, and every where present 
 with us ; and like the ministers attending on the 
 glorious throne of the Monarch of the world, they 
 would, according to their measure, be pure, benevo- 
 lent mortals, and as perfect in goodness, as men can 
 be within the degree and limit of their nature. In 
 a word, the supreme Father of all things would then 
 be the God of all Christians ; and in doing his will, 
 in imitating his perfections, and in practising every 
 thing recommended by the great and universal law 
 of reason, that law which God sent our Lord to 
 revive and enforce ; they would find the greatest 
 pleasure. Such were the people of Burcot-Hamlet. 
 AzoRA and Antonia were indeed most glorious 
 women*. ; 
 
 * AzoRA BuRcoT died in 1732, six years after I left 
 them, but Antonia Fletcher was [1756] living in the 
 same happy situation j and by advising the young women 
 to marry some young men of those mountains, has made 
 an alteration in the community for the better, and en- 
 creased the number of her people. The settlement is 
 now like to continue, and they find many advantages 
 from having men among them. The rising generation 
 thereby acquired, now proves a blessing to the first 
 colony, whom years have rendered much weaker and de-
 
 JOHN BUN CLE, ESQ. ^83 
 
 The ISth of June, 1725, 1 took my leave of Mrs. 
 BuRCOT and Mrs. Fletcher, for so they would be 
 
 pendent than when I first saw them. Azora, a little 
 before she died, did intend to get in a recruit of female 
 children for the support of the society: but Antonia 
 judged it was much better, to let the young girls of the 
 community get honest youths for their spouses ; for, by 
 this means, they can never want young people to assist 
 and comfort them, and to encrease and perpetuate their 
 happy republic. For these reasons, she sent for some 
 young men to several neighbouring villages in Rich- 
 mondshire, to make several things wanting, and to dig, 
 and work in the gardens, for so much by the year cer- 
 tain ; and as they were snutten with the clean, civil girls 
 of Burcot-Hamlet, several marriages soon ensued, and 
 infants were produced before the twelve months had ex- 
 pired. More than half of the twenty women that mar- 
 ried, had twins the first year, and all of them had strong, 
 healthy children. The ten extraordinary girls I men- 
 tioned, got very good husbands, and as Antonia was 
 particularly kind to them on their marrying, and gave 
 to all the wedded folks great encouragement in profit- 
 able gardens and houses, grain and cattle, they and 
 their spouses became rather more dutiful and useful to 
 their mistress and ruler than otherwise, and in gratitude, 
 and for the sake of their children, did their best to please 
 Mrs. Fletcher, and encrease the common felicity. In 
 this condition I found them on my second arrival at
 
 284 THE LIFE OF 
 
 called, as they informed me, after I bad once used 
 the word Miss ; and from this fine place, proceeded 
 
 Burcot-Hamlet. They were a flourishing village, and a 
 most happy people. My second visit was in 1739, four- 
 teen years after the first ; and I saw them a third time 
 in 17o2. They were then all well, and enjoyed every 
 comfort of life that can proceed from good and useful 
 manners. Mrs. Fletcher, though now in years, has no 
 sign of age in her constitution, and still leads a most 
 active and pious life. She is a subaltern providence to 
 them, and with the tenderest care, makes it the labour of 
 her every day to secure and advance the temporal and 
 eternal interest of the people: but their souls is her 
 main care. She performs to them divine service twice 
 every day, as good Azoua was wont to do. She reads 
 the best sermons to the aged, and constantly catechises 
 the young ones. She is a blessed woman. 
 
 By the way, reader, I must observe to you, that in 
 travelling over that part of Richmondshire, which is 
 called Stanemore, I found several small villages, that are 
 not mentioned in Camden, or the Britannia Antigua et 
 Nova, or in England's Gazetteer ; and though not so pretty 
 and happy as Burcot in the northern ends of the fells of 
 Westmoreland ; yet in tolerable condition, and remark- 
 able on account of several things and people -, though 
 they live entirely on what their spot affords, and have 
 little communication with their countrymen beyond the 
 mountains that separate the inhabitants of Stanemore
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 285 
 
 on my journey, by a paper of written directions I 
 had received from them : as there was a pretty 
 
 from the rest of England. I took notice, in particular, 
 that although those poor remote people had not faculties 
 adapted to large measm-es of knowledge, nor have minis- 
 ters to teach them, or churches to pray in ; yet they 
 were not alienated from the taste and feelings of huma- 
 nity, nor strangers to the momentous principles of true 
 Christianity. They had the Bible, and could read it. 
 They instructed their children in virtue and religion, 
 and lived themselves as the intelligent subjects of an 
 Almighty Governor ; in a firm belief that God will dis- 
 tinguish the virtue and the oflfence of mankind hereafter, 
 by suitable tokens of his favour, or displeasure All this I 
 saw in several villages of Stanemore-mountains. I lived 
 for some time among the poor people : and I mention 
 their case here, that you may have the less reason to 
 imagine there is any thing incredible in my account of 
 the extraordinary state of Burcot-Hamlet. 
 
 As to the Stanemore-part of Richmondshire, Camden, 
 and the authors of the other Britannia, and the tour- 
 men, &c. never so much as saw this country at a distance, 
 I am very sure. The very little they say of it, is false 
 and ridiculous. Camden places Bows before Greta- 
 bridge. He says, in this desolate and solitary, this 
 mountainous and vast tract called Stanemore, there is 
 but one inn in the middle of i^ for the entertainment of 
 travellers, whereas, in truth, there is no inn at all in
 
 '■2S6 THE LITE OF 
 
 good, though a long and tedious way out of the 
 mountains, if a traveller knew the passes and turn- 
 
 what is properly called Stanemore: the inn Camden 
 speaks of, is the Bell I mentioned before, where I break- 
 fasted with Miss Melmoth; and lies on the left side of 
 a fine turnpike road from Bows to Brugh, in Westmor- 
 land, the high-way to Carlisle ; but though this road is 
 a part of Stanemore, running in a direct line from 
 Gretabridge through Bows to Brugh, eighteen miles of 
 delightful ground, both on account of the excellence of 
 the way, and the fine views of mountains and vales on 
 either hand, for twelve miles, from a beautiful ruin of a 
 Roman castle at the end of the town*, yet this is but the 
 
 * By the way, I suspect from Bishop Horsley's ac- 
 count of the Roman castle or station, that he never 
 was on the spot, but had his relation from the surveyor 
 he sent out to find the length of this Roman wall, and 
 take other dimensions and notes for his Britannia Ro- 
 mana ; I mean Mr. Cay, who published the late map of 
 Northumberland, which Bishop Horsley employed him 
 to make. He does not describe the fort and situation, 
 and the adjacent country, as if he had been there him- 
 self: nor can I think he ever rode from this castle to 
 Brugh or Burgh under Stanemore, or from Brugh, the 
 Roman Veterse, to Brovocum, now Brougham-Castle, a 
 great and curious Roman ruin. The finest things re- 
 lating to them, he has omitted, and many antiquities
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 2&7 
 
 ings; but otherwise, it was either impossible to go 
 on; or a man must journey at the hazard of his 
 
 southern beginning- of Stanemore. That vast tract of 
 mountains, glens, and vallies, forest, rock, and water, 
 the most wonderful land in the world, for forty miles to 
 the end of the country, if it was possible to go straight 
 on, lies on the right hand of this road, as you ride to 
 Brugh under Stanemore ; or, on your left, as you come 
 from Westmorland to Catarracton or Catarrick. 
 
 Here, by the way, let me tell you. Reader^ lives 
 Ralph Hawkwell, who keeps an excellent house, 
 where you may get choice things, after a ride of twenty 
 two miles, if you come from Boroughbridge to go to the 
 north ; or of fifteen miles, if from Greta-bridge, for the 
 south; provided you have the rem; and if you have not, 
 though youw^ere an apostle of a man, Ralph would have 
 very little regard for you. Indeed, every where in the 
 
 that are to be found in off-sets by the way. I question, 
 likewise, if ever he saw with his own eyes, the eastern 
 and western terminations of the Roman wall. If he was 
 at Newcastle, and really did ride over Lonsdale marsh 
 to Tunnocelum, a marsh where I had like to have lost 
 my life ; it is surprising that a man of his understanding, 
 and taste for antiquities, should give no better account 
 of these places. For my part, I could not see what he 
 saw : nor did he see what I saw at the end of the to\vn 
 of Boulness.
 
 ^88 THE LIFE OF 
 
 life a thousand times a day, in crossing waters and 
 precipices. 
 
 north, where the best of things are to be had, I have 
 always found travelling there as expensive as near Lon- 
 don. Many I know give a different account, but the 
 reason is, either they never were there ; or they travel in 
 a pilgrim-like manner. You must take care, then, to 
 have money enough, if ever you undertake the northern 
 expedition I have frequently gone upon : and as it is not 
 safe carrying much cas\ with you, for there are rogues 
 in that part of the world, as well as in this ; they rob 
 even on Stanemore roadj and in riding over the great 
 moor that lies between Brugh and Appleby, there is a 
 little ale-house to be seen at a good distance, on the 
 right hand, at the entrance of a wood, at the bottom of a 
 range of vast fells, where highwaymen sometimes resort; 
 I was pursued by two of them, not long ago, and to the 
 excellence of my horse, owed the saving of my pui'se, 
 and perhaps my life : they were well mounted, but I 
 kept an hundred yards a head of them for several miles, 
 while, as fast as they could stretch away, they chased me 
 till near the town of Brugh. I was all alone, my fellow 
 having received a mischief, and being obliged to stay a 
 day behind j and the rogues did swear and hoot most 
 horribly, and fired three shots at me ; but my horse was 
 as good as ever spanked it along, and I cut him up, and 
 pricked him over the turf, like the mnd away. I say, 
 then, as it is not safe travelling with all the money neces-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 2S9 
 
 Our first labour was to ascend a very narrow 
 steep way in the side of a mountain, which went up 
 
 sary for such a long journey, the best way is, when cash 
 runs low, to lie by to rest for a week, and put your notes 
 in order, in some town, and by one of the dealers, or 
 manufacturers of the place, draw on your friend, or 
 goldsmith in London, for what you want, and by the 
 return of the post, you will be paid the money where you 
 are. In this manner I did, when I was last at Rich- 
 mond, in the north-riding of Yorkshire. Being in want 
 of money, I asked a gentleman with whom 1 chanced to 
 dine, how 1 could supply myself with 20/. by draft on 
 one in the capital ; and he directed me to his neighbour, 
 who let me have what I had occasion for at moderate 
 exchange, as soon as he heard from his friend in Lon- 
 don. I might have had any money I named in this way; 
 and so, in other places of trade. 
 
 I hope, reader, you will excuse this little digression, 
 because it is meant well ; and for the same reason, I 
 imagine you \vill pardon me for advising you, in the 
 next place, should the fates ever bring you to Catarrac- 
 tonium, in order to proceed to the northern extremity 
 of our country ; to go four miles out of your way to see 
 Richmond town, before you set out for Gretabridge, to 
 Joseph Marshall's ; the best house of the two inns 
 there. The delightful, romantic situation of Richmond, 
 and the fine curiosities about the town, will aflford you 
 an agreeable entertainment for a couple of days ; and if 
 VOL, I. u
 
 290 THE LIFE or 
 
 due north for a full mile, and brought us to another 
 large, standing, black and unfathomable water, 
 
 you like going at night to a club of very worthy, sensible 
 men of this town, who are very civil to strangers, you 
 may pass the evening in a very pleasing way ; or if you 
 have a taste for dancing, and prefer the conversation of 
 a fine girl to a pipe and more serious discourse, there is 
 a small polite assembly of as pretty women as ever glad- 
 dened the heart of man. My method, while there, was to 
 smoke one night with the club ; and the next I devoted 
 to the ladies. We made up ten couple, and had the 
 hemp-dressers one night, which is, you know, if you are 
 a dancing reader, the most difficult, and laborious of all 
 the country dances ; and no where have I seen the 
 ground more actively beat, or, in juster measure. Life 
 and truth and charms were in perfection in those Rich- 
 mond girls. I was there in 172(), 1737, and again in 
 1752, and the sensible club, and bright assembly, were 
 still in being ; but no more than three did I see, of men 
 or women, in 37, that were there in 29 ; and in 52, they 
 were all strangers to me. Some were married away ; 
 some had removed j and others were translated to the 
 shades of eternity. This was to me a moral lesson. 
 AVhen I looked round the assembly room the last time I 
 was there, and found every glorious girl of my acquaint- 
 ance was gone, and that years had rendered me almost 
 unfit to join with the ladies then present, in the dancings 
 of the night, a philosophical sadness came powerfully
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 291 
 
 on the top of this high hill. There was no ap- 
 pearance of any feeders to supply this frightful 
 
 upon my mind, and I could not help sighing in the 
 midst of harmony, and a blaze of charms. This life, I 
 saw was a fleeting scene indeed. 
 
 And now, reader, as to Stanemore-country, if it 
 should ever come into your head, to wander over this 
 ^vild and romantic part of our world, at the hazard of 
 your neck, and the danger of being starved, your route 
 is, when you have passed the turnpike on Stanemore, in 
 your way to Brugh, to turn off to the right, beyond the 
 public-house, and ascend a fine rising valley you will see 
 between two mountains, till you come to the top of the 
 first hills : then proceed, if you can, in the course I 
 have described, and wherever it is in yom* power, tend 
 to the north-east, for that is the way out. This is one 
 way into the heart of Stanemore in Richmondshire, and 
 will bring you, l)y the way, among the dreadful northern 
 fells of Westmorland; a frightful country, and a fatiguing 
 march. 
 
 Another way to the Stanemore Alps, is behind Jack 
 Railton's, the quaker's house at Bows. Hire a guide 
 from him, and his man will bring you as he did me once 
 through a very surprising way of deep bottoms to a pub- 
 lic house at Eggleston, on the border of Richmond- 
 Stanemore. There rest that night, and early the next 
 moniing, proceed due north, when you can, with an- 
 other guide, and you ^vill come to mountains upon
 
 295 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lake, and therefore, and on account of its blackness, 
 the surface must communicate with the abyss. From 
 this water we rode due east for half an hour, and then 
 descended to a sandy valley, where flames were 
 rising from the ground. The fire came up without 
 noise, smoke, or smell, and appeared to me very 
 wonderful ; but such things are common in many 
 parts of the world. In the side of one of the Apen- 
 nines, I have seen a large blazing vale. The learned 
 tell us, this is owing to rich veins of bitumen, which 
 crops in such places, and the heat of the air between 
 the hills, in shallow vallies, causes it to burn. This 
 
 mountains, rapid rivers, and headlong torrents, that 
 form amasing and tremendous scenes. Or, as this way 
 is neither comfortable, nor very safe, it is a better road 
 to the confines, or beginning of Stanemore, to ride from 
 Gretabridge to Bernard Castle, and from Bernard- 
 Castle to Eggleston, about sixteen miles, as I judge, for 
 it is not measured, and then set out for the mountains 
 from Eggleston, as before directed. I have been told 
 there is another way into Stanemore, through Bishop- 
 rick ; but as I am a stranger to it, 1 can only say what I 
 have heard, that it is wor3e than the bottoms I went 
 through from the quakei"'s house. This is enough, 
 reader, to shew you how to get into Stanemore, if you 
 have the curiosity and heart to visit that very wild and 
 wonderful land.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 293 
 
 crop of bitumen, and accension by the agitation 
 of hot air, is well fancied, I own : but it does not 
 give me full satisfaction. I think of this, and many 
 other natural things, as Moyle does of the aurora 
 borealis : that these uncommon appearances should 
 be looked on with wonder and admiration, and raise 
 in us a due reverence of their great Author, who has 
 shewn his Almighty power and wisdom in forming 
 such an infinite variety of productions in all parts 
 of the universe. Philosophy undertakes to account 
 for every thing. I am sure it is in many cases mis- 
 taken. 
 
 Having passed the burning valley, we rode through 
 a river, that was up to the horses belHes, very rapid, 
 and a bad bottom, and then proceeded along a steep 
 hill side, the course N.W. till we came to a rich low 
 land, that was covered with flowers and aromatic 
 shrubs, and adorned with several clumps of oak, 
 chesnut, and white walnut trees. This plain is 
 about twenty five acres, surrounded with stony 
 mountains, some of which are very high and steep, 
 and from the top of one of the lowest of them, a 
 cataract descends, like the fall of the river Niagara 
 in Canada, or New France, in North America. 
 Swifter than an arrow from a bow the rapid water 
 comes headlong down in a fall of an hundred and 
 forty feet, which is three feet more than the descent
 
 294 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of Niagara. The river here, to be sure, is not half 
 so large as that which comes from the vast lakes of 
 Canada, but it is a great and prodigious cadence of 
 water, and tumbles perpendicularly in as surprising 
 a manner, from as horrible a precipice ; and in this 
 very nearly resembles the Niagara-fall ; that as you 
 stand below, as near the fall as it is safe to go, you 
 see the river come down a sloping mountain for a 
 great way, as if it descended from the clouds. It is 
 a grand and amazing scene. The water issues from 
 a great lake on the top of a mountain that I found 
 very hard to ascend, and the lake has many visible 
 feeders from hills upon hills above it, which it is 
 impossible to chmb. 
 
 18 June. — It was twelve o'clock by the time we 
 arrived at this water-fall, and therefore I sat down 
 by the side of it to dine, before I attempted to get 
 up to the top of the precipice, and see from whence 
 this water came. While my eyes were entertained 
 with the descending scene, I feasted on a piece of 
 venison pasty, and some fine ale, which, among 
 other provisions, Mrs. Burcot had ordered her ser- 
 vants to put up for me : but as I was thus happily 
 engaged, my lad, O Fin, had climbed up to the top 
 of the water-fall, and was going to land from a tree 
 that grew out of the rocky mountain near the sum- 
 mit of the hill, when his foot slip'd, and he came
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 595 
 
 tumbling down in a miserable way. I expected bim 
 in pieces on the ground, as I had him full in my 
 view. There seemed no possibility of an escape, and 
 yet he received no harm. In the middle of the de- 
 scent, he stujr.k in another projecting thick tree, and 
 from it came safely down. This was a deliverance. 
 Providence often saves us in a wonderful manner, 
 till the work appointed to be finished is done, or the 
 limited time of our trial over. In relation to such 
 escapes, I could give myself as an instance many 
 a time, and will here mention one extraordinary 
 case. 
 
 As I travelled once in the county of Kerry in 
 Ireland, with the White Knight, and the Knight of 
 the Glen*. We called at Terelah O Crohane's, an 
 
 * Such knights were honourable creations made by 
 the Irish kings. We have an account of them in the 
 Psaller of Tarah, before the reigns of Conaire the Great, 
 A.M. 3(j70, ante Christum 34 ; Cormac Ulfadda, A.D. 
 230 J and the glorious Brien Boiroimhe, A.D. 1027 : the 
 three greatest monarchs that ever Ireland had. Fitz- 
 gerald, the first knight of Glen, was so made by the im- 
 mortal Brien Boiroimhe, who fell in the bloody fight 
 between him and Maolmorda king of Leinster, who had 
 joined with the Danes, AD. 1239- The king of Ireland 
 and the king of Leinster slew each other ; and with Brien 
 Boiroimhe set the glory of Ireland, The states from
 
 29G THE LIFE OF 
 
 old Irish gentleman, our common friend, who kept 
 up the hospitality of his ancestors, and shewed how 
 
 this time began to decay ; and Roderic O'Connor, who 
 came to the crown, A.D. 1 168, was the last king of Ire- 
 land- Our Henry II., got the kingdom A.D. 117'^, by 
 two means ; one of which was a grant the Pope made of 
 it to him ; who was allowed by the natives to be su- 
 preme Lord of the island in temporals, and the nobility 
 had by commission resigned it to him, after the death of 
 Brien Boiroimhe. The other mean, and what effectually 
 did the work, was the king of Leinster's joining mth 
 Strangwell, who was at the head of the English forces, 
 and had married that king's daughter. An old chronicle 
 says she was the most beautiful woman upon earth of 
 her time, and very learned : but inferior nevertheless in 
 beauty and learning to the six princesses we read of in 
 the Psalter of Tarah^ who were fair beyond all mortals 
 that ever lived, and wonderful in the extent of their 
 knowledge ; to wit — 
 
 The princess Mac Diarmuid. 
 The princess Mac Reagien. 
 The princess Mac Faolain 
 The princess Mac Kennedy. 
 The princess O'Heyn. 
 The princess OTlaherty. 
 
 These six were Druidesses, says the Psalter of Tarah.
 
 JOIiy BUNGLE, ESQ. 297 
 
 ibey lived, when Cormac Mac Cuillenan, the Gene- 
 rous, from whose house he descended ; was king of 
 Munster and archbishop of Cashel in the year 913*. 
 
 By the way, reader, let me tell you, that from this 
 same Psalter of Tarah, I wrote out one of the finest and 
 most improving love stories that ever I read. It is called 
 * the Adventure of Terla^h Mac Shain and the beautiful 
 GaraO'Mulduin; which happened in the reign of Cor- 
 mac Ulfada, king of Ireland, in the year of salvation 2 1 3, 
 that Faon Maccurahail, commonly called Fian INIaccul, 
 the mighty champion, beat the Picts, and brought off 
 among other prisoners, the beautiful Ciarnuit, daughter 
 to the king of the Picts, whom Cormac Ulfada took for 
 his concubine.' This story is likewise more shortly told 
 in The Red Book of Mac Eogaiie, a very valuable old Irish 
 manuscript : and from both those books I will give my 
 reader the best part of this adventure as soon as I can see 
 a proper place to bring it in. 
 
 * This Cormac Cuillenan wrote the famous Psalter of 
 Cashel, a very extraordinary and valuable book, which he 
 composed from ancient poems of the bards, who thus 
 wrote their history, and from venerable records, as this 
 king and })relate declares in his will. The clause is this 
 *' My psalter, which preserves the ancient records and 
 monuments of my native country, which are transcribed 
 with great fidelity, I leave to Ronal Cashel, to be pre- 
 served to after-times and ages yet to come." There is 
 another remarkable clause in this great man's \vill, to
 
 2^8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 There was no end of eating and drinking and the 
 famous DowNE Falvey played on the harp. For 
 
 wit, " My soul for mercy I commit to heaven ; my body 
 leave to dust and rottenness.'* There is not a word of 
 any saint in it ; and of consequence, there was no saint- 
 worship then in Ireland. 
 
 Cormac wrote his will the day before he fought the 
 ])loody battle of Maghailbe with the king of Leinster, 
 and therein fell. It begins in this manner : 
 
 ** Summon'd away by death, which I perceive 
 Approaches ; for by prophetic skill, 
 I find that short will be my life and reign : 
 I solemnly appoint that my affairs 
 Shall thus be settled after I am dead ; 
 And thus I constitute my latest will : 
 My royal robe embroider'd o'er with gold. 
 And sparkling with the rays of costly jewels ; 
 Well suited to a state of majesty, 
 
 I do bequeath &c. 
 
 My coat of mail of bright and polish'd steel 
 Will well become the martial king of Ulster, 
 To whom I give it ; and my golden chain 
 Shall the most pious Muchuda enjoy 
 
 As a reward, &c. 
 
 My golden vestment for most sacred use. 
 And my royal wardrol)e I hereby give 
 To Sic-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 299 
 
 a day and a night we sat to it by candle-light, with- 
 out shirts or clothes on ; naked excepting that we 
 
 Now from this antique piece verbally translated, I 
 think it is evident, that the kings of the four provinces 
 of Ireland were not such poor and ignorant chiefs as they 
 are generally imagined to be ; and of consequence, that 
 one of the four to whom the other three did homage, and 
 who was therefore called the king of Ireland, was always 
 a potent prince, and could do great matters, when they 
 were all united. This consideration, I fancy, and the 
 address let me add of Anselm, archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, and of Lanfranc, archbishop of the same see, " to 
 Mortogh O'Brien king of Ireland, and Terlagh O'Brien 
 king of Ireland, Moriardacho Glorioso and Terdeluacho 
 Magnifico. To the most magnificent Terlagh O'Brien, 
 king of Ireland, our benediction," &c. as you may read 
 them at large in Usher's Primordia * ought to give some 
 credit to O'Flaherty's Ogygia, Heating's History, and 
 Mac Curtins' Annals; which those waiters really took 
 from very ancient records, and principally from the very 
 valuable manuscripts, called the Psalters of Cashel and 
 7arah. 
 
 What the Psalter of Cashel was I have told you, reader ; 
 and as to the Psalter of Tarah, the history of it is this. — 
 
 • These letters were written by the English archbi- 
 shops to the Irish kings, Turlogh and Murtogh, in the 
 years 1098 and 1110.
 
 300 THE LIFE OF 
 
 had our breeches and shoes and stockings on ; and 
 I drank so much Burgundy in that time, that the 
 sweat ran of a red colour down my body ; and my 
 senses were so disordered, that when we agreed to 
 ride out for a couple of hours to take a little air, I 
 leaped my horse into a dreadful quarry, and in the 
 descent was thrown into a large deep water that was 
 in a part of the frightful bottom, and by that means 
 saved my life. When 1 came above water I swam 
 very easily out of the pit, and walked up the low side 
 of the quarry as sober as if 1 had not drank a glass. 
 This is a fact, whatever the critics may say of the 
 thing. All I can say to it is my hour was not come. 
 Having dined, and shot a bustard that weighed 
 forty pounds, I v/ent on again, the course north- 
 On a tract of land called Tarah, that was taken from the 
 province of Leinster, and added to the county of Meath, 
 stood the largest of the four vast palaces of the king's of 
 Ireland, and at that grand fabric there was a triennial 
 meeting of the states of the kingdom, called the royal 
 assembly of Tarah. There they enacted laws, examined 
 the ancient chronicles and records, and purged them 
 from all false and spurious relations, settled genealogies, 
 and considered noble exploits. All the things that re- 
 ceived the assembly's approbation were registered, and 
 transcribed into the royal records, and they called this 
 journal the Psalter of Tarah.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 301 
 
 west for half a mile, and then to my astonishment, 
 it trended to the south for more than an hour ; which 
 was going back again : but at last it turned about, 
 and for half an hour, we went to the north-west 
 again, and then due east for a long time, till we 
 come to hills upon hills that were very difficult to 
 pass. We were obliged to alight at many of them, 
 and walk up and down them, which was a delay of 
 many hours : but we did it at last, and came into a 
 large sandy opening, that had a number of rapid 
 streams breaking over it, that fell from the moun- 
 tains, and with the forest on the surrounding hills, 
 formed a very wild and pleasing scene. Over this 
 we went for half a mile, and then came to a long 
 glen, so very deep and narrow, that it was quite 
 night when we got to the bottom of it, though the 
 sun was not yet down ; and it brought to my re- 
 membrance Anchises's son, the wandering prince of 
 Troy, when he descended to the shades below. It 
 had the appearance indeed of some such pass, and 
 was a frightful way, as hills, like Caucasus and 
 Atlas, were close on either hand of us, and a river 
 roared through the bottom of the steep descent ; 
 which we were obliged to walk down on foot. This 
 could not be the right road I was certain. Azora 
 and Antonia could never pass this deep and rapid
 
 30-2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 flood. It was too much for any man to venture into, 
 without knowing where the torrent went, or how the 
 channel of the river was formed. 
 
 Up then I came again to the day, and resolved 
 to pass the night at the foot of one of the woody 
 hills, on the margin of the streams that sounded 
 sweetly over the shores : but how to proceed the 
 next morning I knew not. As ray paper of direc- 
 tions did not mention the dark steep descent we had 
 been down, but a little valley that lay due east, 
 through which we were to go: no such vale could 
 we see, and of consequence, in some turning of the 
 road, we had gone wrong. 
 
 When I came among the trees, on the side of one 
 of the mountains, I bepjan to look for some conve- 
 nient resting place, while my two boys were picking 
 the bustard, and preparing a fire to roast it for 
 supper, and wandered a good way till I saw a pretty 
 hermitage in an open plain like a ring, and going up 
 to it, found the skeleton of a man. He lay on a 
 couch in an inward room without any covering, and 
 the bones were as clean and white as if they had 
 come from the surgeon's hands. The pismires to 
 be sure had eaten off the flesh. Who the man was, 
 a paper lying on the table in a strong box informed 
 me. It was called
 
 JOHN BUXCLE, ESQ. 
 
 THE CASE OF JOHN ORTON. 
 
 I was twenty years old when Charles II. was 
 restored, in 1660; and being master of large for- 
 tunes, and educated in an aversion to puritans and 
 republican principles, went into all the licentious- 
 ness and impieties, which overspread and corrupted 
 this nation, when that profligate prince ascended the 
 throne. I drank up to the excess of the times : I 
 debauched every woman I could get within ray 
 power, by gold, treachery, or force ; maid, wife, and 
 widow : I murdered several men in duels ; and 
 blasphemed the God of heaven continually. The 
 devil was my first and last toast ; and, in a club I 
 belonged to, I proceeded to such scarce credible 
 wickedness, as to perform the part of the priest in 
 our infernal sodality, and after using the words of 
 consecration over the elements, gave the prophane 
 bread and wine in the most horrible manner. I was 
 the most abominable of mortals. Contrary to all 
 the dictates and principles of wisdom, virtue, and 
 honour,! acted ; bound myself in bondage to Satan ; 
 and lived the most execrable slave to the vilest in- 
 clinations, and most henious habits. Scratch was 
 the name I had for the evil one. and upon all occa- 
 sions I invoked him. The last words I said every 
 night, after lying down, were ' Scratch, tuck me in.'
 
 304 TlIK LIFE OF 
 
 In this diabolical manner did I pass my life away 
 till I was forty, and in twenty years time committed 
 every evil that can dishonour human manners, and 
 infest society. I was a disgrace to my species, and 
 unworthy of the name of man. 
 
 But as I went on in this manner, and gloried 
 only in outdoing the greatest scelcrates in impiety 
 and debauchery, in being the chief instrument of 
 Satan, and striving to bring every soul I got ac- 
 quainted with, in subjection to the flesh and the 
 devil ; maliciously committing all manner of sin ; 
 and with greediness executing the suggestions of a 
 defiled imagination, and the purposes of the most 
 corrupt heart; I was struck one night with the most 
 excruciating torments of body ; and had, at the 
 same time, such unspeakable horrors upon my mind, 
 that I believe my condition resembled the state of 
 the damned. The tortures all over my frame, were 
 beyond the pains any rack could cause; but were 
 less afflicting than the panic fear that harrowed my 
 soul under a lively sense of eternal vengeance, for 
 the crying enormities and impurities of my life. All 
 my crimson crimes were held as in a mirror before 
 me; the most diabolical impieties against heaven, 
 and the most shocking cruelties to men; the numbers 
 I had drank to death, and secured in the service of 
 hell ; the men 1 had sent to the other world by com-
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ, 305 
 
 bat at pistol and sword ; and the women I had 
 ruined, not only in this life, but perhaps, for ever- 
 more ; the miseries I had brought upon families, 
 and the manifold afflictions I had been the author of 
 for years after years, by night and by day ; all these 
 offences f saw like the hand-writing on the wall, 
 and in a horror and consternation of mind, that 
 words cannot describe, lay a miserable spectacle for 
 two nights and two days. Tormented, perplexed, 
 and confounded, I rolled from side to side, and con- 
 demned myself and my folly in the most doleful 
 complaints ; but dared not look up to a just Judge 
 and offended God. No slumber for this time did 
 approach my eyes; but in agonies I shook with 
 a frightful violence, and thought every moment, 
 that the demons my fancy had in view, were going 
 to force my miserable soul away to everlasting in- 
 flictions, in the most dismal cavern of hell. Spent, 
 however, at last, I fell into a short sleep. I had 
 half an hour's rest, and in that slumber imagined, I 
 heard a small voice say, " As I live, saith the Lord, 
 I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; but 
 that the wicked turn from his way, and live : Turn 
 ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye 
 die, O house of Israel. Rent your heart, and not 
 your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God : 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE LIFE OF 
 
 for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and 
 of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil." 
 
 *' Upon this I awaked, and found my pains were 
 gone. To heaven 1 lifted my eyes, and as the tears 
 poured down my face, cried out to God for mercy. 
 *' O God be merciful to me a sinner. Have mercy 
 on me dust and sin, the vilest of all sinful creatures. 
 To me belongs nothing but shame and confusion of 
 face eternally. My portion should injustice be the 
 lake of everlasting fire and brimstone. But O Lord 
 God most mighty, O holy and most merciful Father, 
 to thee belongeth infinite goodness and forgiveness. 
 O remember not my sins and transgressions, my 
 great and numberless provocations, and my tres- 
 passes that are grown up even unto heaven. Have 
 mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness, 
 and according to the multitude of thy mercies, do 
 away mine offences. I have a hearty sense and de- 
 testation of all my abominations, and with a true 
 contrition of heart, I repent of all my iniquities. 
 Wasli me, then, I beseech thee, O Father of mercies; 
 wash my polluted soul in the blood of the holy 
 Jesus, and forgive me ail my sins, as I offer up a 
 troubled spirit, and a broken aivi contrite heart, 
 which thou hast promised not to despise. And 
 grant, O Lord God, my Father, that I may from this
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 307 
 
 hour, by the guidance and direction of thy sanctify- 
 ing spirit, bid a final adieu to all ungodliness and 
 iniquity; and consecrate myself entirely to thee, to 
 serve thee with humility, love and devotion, and for 
 the remainder of my life, give thee the sacrifices of 
 righteousness, through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 " When I had thus implored the mercy of the 
 Almighty, in a torrent of tears, with strong cryings, 
 I found my heart quite easy, and my mind so filled 
 with delights and comforts, that I cannot describe 
 the strange happiness of my condition : but how to 
 secure this felicity was the question. I was afraid 
 of the world, and trembled when I thought of its 
 temptations : beside the great wickedness of my 
 past life made it necessary that I should live in an 
 extraordinary state of penitence, and by great mor- 
 tification and piety, make what amends I could 
 for sinning against heaven in the most atrocious 
 manner; and wilfully for a long series of years, 
 breaking every law of the just and holy governor of 
 the world. A change of mind, and common piety, 
 were not enough for such a wretch as I had been. 
 I was unworthy of the innocent comforts of life. I 
 ought to breathe in ,sighs, and speak in groans. I 
 resolved then to be a reform indeed, and in this 
 part of Stanemore mountains, which I was well ac-
 
 308 THE LIFE OF 
 
 quainted with, spend the remainder of my days, in 
 the labours of a penitential piety. 
 
 *• As I had no relations living', I sold what estates 
 I had left, and gave almost the whole money among 
 the poor. With the little I kept, I bought what 
 necessary things T should want in my solitude ; and 
 with tools and seeds, some clothes and hnen, a 
 few books, and other little matters, retired to this 
 spot in the year 1681. I had some working men 
 from the next village, to build me the little hut I 
 live in; to sow my garden with every vegetable, and 
 put some fruit-trees in the ground ; to cut me a pile 
 of firing from the woody hills ; and make my place 
 as convenient as my intended life could require. 
 All this was soon done, and then I was left alone ; 
 in the possession of every thing I had a wish for in 
 this world. It is now twenty years since my arrival 
 here, and in all the time, I have not had one sick or 
 dismal hour. My garden and my cottage employ 
 me in agreeable labours, to furnish my table with 
 roots and fruits ; which is what I mostly live on ; 
 having nothing more but goat's milk, and now and 
 then a sea-biscuit; my drink being water, and 
 sometimes a cup of meath of my own making. 
 
 '* When I am weary of working, I sit down to 
 study my Bible, and in that most perfect treasure of
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 309 
 
 saving knowledge, T find such joy and satisfaction 
 as make my life a scene of heavenly happiness, and 
 charm me into raptures the nearer I approach to the 
 hour of my dissolution. That will be a blessed 
 hour. By the amazing mercy of God, vouchsafed 
 through the Lord Jesus, my crimson sins are par- 
 doned ; and when the voice of the Son of God, the 
 thunder of the dreadful trumpet will awake all the 
 dead, I shall have my part in the first resurrection, 
 and ascend with the blessed to the eternal mansions 
 of the sky. Adored be thy goodness, most glorious 
 Eternal. Inestimable is thy love in the redemption 
 of sinners by the gospel, and the sacrifice of the 
 holy Jesus ! 
 
 " Fellow mortal, whoever thou art, into whose 
 hands this paper cometh, take my advice, and re- 
 member thy latter end. If, like me, thou hast been 
 betrayed by the demons into great impieties and 
 presumptuous sins, and hast been persuaded to ab- 
 dicate heaven, and its eternal hopes, in exchange for 
 illicit gratifications of every kind, and the pleasures 
 of this world ; then, like me, repent, and in tears and 
 mortification, implore the mercy of heaven. Turn 
 to the everlasting Father of mercies, and the God of 
 all comforts, after his own manner, with humility, 
 sorrow, and resolutions of amendment, and in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus Christ, implore his compas-
 
 310 TIJE LIFE OF 
 
 sion and forgiveness, and he will repent and turn 
 unto thee. He will wash you in the blood of Jesus, 
 and make you whiter than snow. When he sees 
 the sinner a great way off in tears, fasting, and 
 prayer, he will run unto him, and fall upon his neck 
 and kiss him. You will become the beloved of the 
 Father, and be reinstated in the favour of the 
 greatest and most glorious of immortal beings. He 
 will bless you here with that peace that passeth all 
 understanding. He will bless you for ever here- 
 after with glory and honour in the kingdom he has 
 prepared for the benevolent, the pure, and the 
 honest. But if you continue to offend your Creator, 
 and violate the laws of the God of heaven, then will 
 you live exposed to judgments in this world, and most 
 certainly will depart in confusion and misery. The 
 demons you obeyed will gather round the pale, the 
 guilty, the affrighted ghost of you, eager to involve 
 your wretched spirit in their own horrors, and will 
 drag it to their dismal regions. And when all the 
 monuments of human power, wealth and pride shall 
 be overthrown ; the earth itself be in a blaze, and 
 the sea turned into vapours, at the descent of the 
 Son of God, to judge the vast congregation of the 
 sons of men, the amazing assembly of mortals, un- 
 heard of generations raised from the grave, to have 
 all their actions tried; every condition everlastingly
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 311 
 
 determined ; then will you be placed in that division 
 which will call upon the rocks to hide them, and the 
 hills to cover them from the face of the Judge ; but 
 in vain attempt to secret themselves from an infinite 
 eye, and an Almighty power. Then will the terrors 
 of the gospel stand in full force against thee, and 
 in the dreadful sentence pronounced against the 
 guilty you must share — Depart from me, ye cursed, 
 into everlasting fire. O dreadful doom ! what a tre- 
 mendous day to sinners ! and to see the righteous 
 acquitted, and before your eyes ascend in triumph 
 and splendor into the mansions of glory, to live the 
 happy favourites of God and Christ for never-ending 
 ages ; while you are driven forward to the infernal 
 prison, and shut up in the habitations of eternal 
 darkness and torments, the very thought of it, if 
 you will think seriously of it, is enough to curdle 
 the blood, and wither in a moment every unlawful 
 joy that sin can produce in bloom and glory. The 
 despair, the sighs, the groans, the doleful shrieks, 
 when the wicked are driven off to the regions of 
 blackness and darkness for ever, are inexpressible. 
 Think then. Think in time, my fellow mortal, and 
 profit by the blood of a Saviour. Study his gospel. 
 Hear his ministers. Regard the alarms of con- 
 science, and submit to the influence of the holy 
 Spirit. 
 
 And if you are not that monster of iniquity I
 
 312 THE LIFE OF 
 
 once was, before I obtained the divine mercy, by a 
 timely and severe repentance, yet, as in heaven so 
 in hell, there are many mansions, and if you do not 
 work out your salvation according to the terms of 
 the gospel, and make every law of Christ the rules 
 of your behaviour ; if you do not act continually 
 as related to God, to each other, and to another 
 world, and seek first the kingdom of God, and the 
 righteousness thereof, you will utterly disqualify 
 yourself for the rewards and happiness of heaven, 
 though your conduct may be far from meriting the 
 most dreadful inflictions in another world. The 
 gains of unrighteousness, or meddling with any 
 forbidden fruit, is a violation of the laws of God 
 that must ruin you for ever ; though the punishment 
 for so doing cannot be equal to the torments pre- 
 pared for the tyrant and oppressor, the murderer, 
 the adulterer, the drunkard, and offenders in the 
 highest crimes. We must cease to do evil, and 
 learn to do well, in order to be saved. Not accord- 
 ing to promises and prayers at last, not according 
 to legacies to be paid to the poor when we are dead, 
 shall we be judged; but, as we have rectified the 
 judgment and the will, made virtue the governor of 
 the heart, and in all things sought God's glory, not 
 our own. This do, and you will live. 
 
 ** John Orton." 
 May 1, 1701.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 3lS 
 
 This extraordinary paper surprised me very 
 greatly, and Avhen from reading it, I turned my 
 eyes to the bones of John Orton, I could not help 
 breaking out in the following reflection. And is this 
 the once lively, gallant, drinking Jack Orton, who 
 thought for forty years that he was made for no 
 higher end than to gratify every appetite, and pass 
 away time in a continual circle of vanity and plea- 
 sure! Poor skeleton, what a miserable spectacle art 
 thou ! Not the least remain of activity and joy, of 
 that sprightliness and levity of mind, that jocund 
 humour and frolic, which rendered thee the delight 
 of the wild societies of thy youthful time : grim, 
 stiflP, and horrid, is the appearance now ; vain mirth 
 and luxury, licentious plays and sports, can have no 
 connection with these dry bones. 
 
 O Death, what a change dost thou make ! The 
 bulk of mankind are averse to serious thought, and 
 hearken to the passions more than to the dictates of 
 reason and religion : to kill time, and banish reflec- 
 tion, they indulge in a round of dissipations, and 
 revel in the freedom of vicious excesses : their at- 
 tention is engrossed by spectacle and entertain- 
 ments, and fixed to follies and trifles ; giddy and 
 unthinking, loose and voluptuous, they spend their 
 precious hours in the gay scenes of diversions, pomp 
 and luxury ; and as if the grave and a judgment to-
 
 314 THE LIFE OF 
 
 come, were a romance of former times, or things 
 from which they are secured, never think of these 
 important and momentous subjects ; with minds 
 bewitched by exorbitant pleasure, and faculties 
 enervated and broken by idle mirth and vanity, they 
 pass their every day away without any of that con- 
 sideration which becomes reasonable beings, and 
 creatures designed for a state of immortality : but 
 at last, you appear, and in a moment turn delight 
 and admiration, into aversion and horror: strength, 
 wealth, and charms, you instantly reduce to weak- 
 ness, poverty, and deformity, in the first place ; and 
 then, to a skeleton like the bones before me. 
 
 Nor is this the worst of the great revolution. 
 When death approaches, the amusements of sense 
 immediately fail, and past transactions in every 
 circumstance of aggravation, crowd into the mind : 
 conscience reproaches loudly, the heart condemns, 
 and the sick tremble at the apprehensions of a ven- 
 geance they laughed at in the days of diversion, 
 and the midnight hours of the ball: as they come 
 near the black valley, they see the realities of a 
 future state ; and agonies convulse their souls : 
 terrors till then unknown enter their breasts; and, 
 in anxieties that are incapable of being uttered, and 
 expectations the most torturing, on a review of life, 
 they pass from the plains of time into the ocean of
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 315 
 
 eternity. Here lies the frame, like the dry bones 
 before me ; but, the soul is gone to the sessions of 
 righteousness; and perhaps, the dreadful sentence 
 of the divine justice is pronounced on it. This is 
 a tremendous affair, that calls for timely and serious 
 consideration. Eternity ! Eternal misery ! They 
 that have done evil, to come forth unto the resur- 
 rection of damnation. 
 
 I will take thy advice then, thou glorious peni- 
 tent, JoHX Orton; and since it is in my power to 
 come forth unto the resurrection of life, and obtain 
 immortality, honour, and glory, with the righteous, 
 in the kingdom of their father, I will open the 
 reforming gospel night and morning, and by its 
 heavenly directions regulate my conduct. I am de- 
 termined to make a wise and serious preparation for 
 death and judgment. To the best of my power, I 
 will provide for that day, when the prayers and cha- 
 rities of the righteous will be brought forth as their 
 memorials before the tribunal of Jesus Christ. 
 
 This is the thing to be minded. The brightest 
 scenes of worldly prosperity, and grandeur, are con- 
 temptible, when they do not accord with virtue and 
 piety. Death, in a few years, blends the prince and 
 the meanest subject, the conqueror and the slave, 
 the statesman, the warrior and the most insignifi-
 
 316 THE LIFE OF 
 
 cant, in one promiscuous ruin ; and the schemes, 
 the competitions, and the interests, which have en- 
 gaged the chief attention of the world, are brought 
 to nothing, and appear, too often, ridiculous : but 
 righteousness is unchangeably glorious, and in the 
 universal ruin, receives no detriment : when all 
 human power and policy will be extinct ; concealed 
 piety and persecuted virtue, will again appear, and 
 be owned as his by the Lord of Hosts, in that day 
 when he maketh up his jewels. 
 
 I will love thee therefore, Lord, my strength ; 
 yea, I will love thee : and it shall ever be my heart's 
 desire, that my soul may behold by faith in itself, as 
 in a glass, the glory of the Lord, able and ready to 
 change it into the same image from glory to glory, 
 reflected upon, and conveyed to it by the Spirit of 
 the Lord. May my portion here be this blessed 
 transforming union, that I may be made partaker of 
 the divine nature, by impressions from it*. I shall 
 
 * The expression, ' partaker of the divine nature by 
 impressions from it,' may, perhaps, be thought by some 
 readers, to approach to vision ; and to contradict my 
 own opinion before delivered, in relation to this subject : 
 let me obseve then, that by impression, I here mean no 
 more, than bright beams of light cast upon the soul by 
 the present Deity ; as he sits all power, all knowledge.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, E'^Q. 317 
 
 then have all I wish, and all I want. With a settled 
 indifference I shall then look upon the hiy^hest ad- 
 
 in the heart, and dispenses such rays of wisdom to the 
 pious petitioner, as are sufficient to procure a lastin*^ 
 sense of spiritual heavenly things. God is not only in 
 heaven. He dwelleth indeed in the heaven of heavens 
 after the most glorious manner, as the High and Lofty 
 One, and hy some splendid appearance, manifests a 
 presence to the senses of the blessed spirits * : but as he 
 
 * As to the expression just now used, to wit, that 
 this infinite Spirit manifests himself to the senses of liis 
 blessed subjects — it may be asked liuw this can be— can 
 the eye behold what is infinite and invisible ? 
 
 The answer is this, tliat although (iod's essence be 
 invisible, yet there is a glory, the train and attendance 
 of his essence, which exhibits a bodily and sensible vision 
 of God. He decketh himself with iight as with a gar- 
 ment. This is the dwelling of his essence. He dwelleth 
 in light that is unapproachable. 
 
 We must distinguish then between the essential and 
 the raajestatic presence of God. The majestatic presence 
 is the discovery of his essential presence in a determinate 
 place by a magnificent luminous appearance ; and this 
 the apostle calls the excellent glory, megidoprcpous doxes. 
 This glory appeared on Mount Sinai six days together. 
 It rested and dwelt in the sanctuary. It filled the house.
 
 318 THE LIFE OF 
 
 vantages of this world. I shall have nothing to 
 hope or to fear. The will of God will be to me un- 
 mixed felicity. 
 
 is an infinite Spirit, diffused through all things filling as 
 well as containing them, seeing and knowing all, even 
 the most secret things ; for. His eyes, to speak after a 
 popular manner, are ten thousand times brighter than 
 the sun, beholding all the ways of men and considering 
 the most secret paths ; knov/ing all things ere ever they 
 were created, and looking upon all things after they 
 were perfected : it follows, that since nothing can ex. 
 elude the presence of this infinite Spirit ; then, in Him 
 we live, move, and have our being : He is not far from 
 any of us; but although he is above all, yet he is 
 through all, and in us all ; within us, as well as without 
 us ; and therefore, in the hearts of the faithful, he must 
 be considered, as an immense, intellectual, pure light, 
 ready to enlighten and enliven them, and to shed forth 
 the bright beams of his love upon them. I imagine this 
 illustrates the thing. To me it seems reason. 
 
 Moses saw its back parts, that is, a small measure and 
 scantling of it, in proportion to the weaknesss of his 
 mortal eyes : but, in the other world, when mortals shall 
 have put on immortality, and our bodies shall be invested 
 with the new powers of spirituality and incorruption, 
 then face to face, we shall be able to see the whole lustre
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, USQ. 319 
 
 Such was the soliloquy I spoke, as I gazed on 
 the skeleton of John Orton ; and just as T had 
 
 of didne Majesty, as familiarly as one man heholdeth 
 the face of another *. 
 
 There are tt\'0 ways then, as an excellent n:an ob- 
 serves, of seeini^ God, to wit, by intellig^ence, and, in 
 some manner, by sense: but we must not imagine that 
 these two make up the beatific vision. There is a cause 
 of more importance to beatitude. The sight and con- 
 templation of the divine glories is our act ; but the act of 
 God is the communication of them. This makes the 
 saints perfectly blessed. By the communication of the 
 divine glories, we come to be, not bare spectators, but, 
 ^itxg xoojvc/ jjrso;, partakers of the divine nature. 
 
 As we are more obliged, says the writer I have men- 
 tioned to the sun, who is the cheer and vigour of nature, 
 and the very life of all animal and vegetable beings : for 
 his influences than for his sight, so are the heavenly in- 
 habitants much more obliged to God for their receptions 
 from him as the fountain of life and \visdom, than for the 
 sight and contemplation of him as the subject of perfec- 
 tion. This illustrates the matter, and we may say, there 
 
 * As grateful objects of sense make up a great part 
 of human delectation ; may we not suppose, that this 
 glory of God, accommodated to our senses, mil produce 
 a more ravishing and transcendent delight, than all the 
 objects in nature are capable of producing.
 
 I 
 
 390 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ended, the boys brought in the wild turkey, which 
 they had very ingeniously roasted, and with some 
 of Mrs. Buiicot's (ine ale and bread, I had an ex- 
 cellent supper. The bones of the penitent Ortok 
 I removed to a hole I had ordered my lad to dig for 
 them; the skull excepted, which I kept, and still 
 keep on my table, for a memento mori ; and that I 
 may never forget the good lesson, which the perci- 
 pient who once resided in it, had given. It is often 
 the subject of my meditation. When I am alone of 
 an evening, in my closet, which is often my case, I 
 have the skull of John Orton before me, and as I 
 smoke a philosophic pipe, with my eyes fastened on 
 it, I learn more from the solemn object, than I could 
 from the most philosophical and laboured specula- 
 tions. What a wild and hot head once : how cold 
 and still now; poor skull, I say : and what was the 
 end of all thy daring frolics and gambols — thy licen- 
 tiousness and impiety ? — A severe and bitter repent- 
 ance. In piety and goodness John Orton found 
 
 is a third way of seeing God, to wit, in the enjoyment of 
 him ; the beamings of his favour, and the effusions of his 
 love, passing through the whole man, and producing an 
 intimate sensation of him both in body and soul, and 
 filling both with an unconceivable and endless delecta- 
 tion. This is seeing God as he is.
 
 JOHN BUNGLE, ESQ. 331 
 
 at last that happiness the world could not give him. 
 There is no real felicity for man, but in reforming 
 all his errors and vices, and entering upon a strict 
 and constant course of virtue. This only makes 
 life comfortable ; rendeis death serene and peace- 
 ful; and secures eternal joy and blessedness here" 
 after. Such are the lessons I extract from the skull 
 of John Orton. 
 
 When I had supped, I went about, to see what 
 things Orton had left behind him in his little 
 cottage, and I found a field bedstead large enough 
 for two, with a mattrass. silk blankets, quilt, and 
 cotton curtains; two oak stools, and a strong square 
 table of the same wood. An oak settee, on which 
 his bones lay ; a silver lamp to burn oil in ; a tinder- 
 box and matches; a case of razors; six handsome 
 knives and forks in a case ; half a dozen china 
 plates, two china dishes ; and two pint mugs of the 
 same ware ; half a dozen drinking-glasses, a large 
 copper kettle, a brass skillet, two silver spoons, and 
 a silver ladle; in a chest were clothes and linen, 
 shoes and stockings, and various useful matters. 
 There were pens, ink, and paper in a writing-desk, 
 and half a score guineas ; and on a shelf over it, a 
 dozen good books; three of which were, a large 
 English Bible, Thomas cl Kempis and Sir Walter, 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 S'l'^C THE LIFE OF 
 
 Raleigh's History of the World : under the shelf 
 hung a plain gold watch, and a large ring sun-dial. 
 In a dark closet, I found a box of sea-biscuits, many 
 flasks of oil for eating, and jars of it for the lamp ; 
 honey, salt, and vinegar ; four dozen of quart bottles 
 of meath, and two stone bottles, that held three 
 gallons each, full of brandy : this I suppose was 
 against the days of weakness or sickness. He had 
 not used a pint of this liquor. 
 
 Having found these things within doors, I pro- 
 ceeded from the house to the garden, which lay at 
 a small distance from the little thatched mansion, 
 and contained about four acres ; it had been very 
 beautifully laid out, and filled with the best fruit- 
 trees, and all the vegetables : but it was run to ruin 
 and high weeds, and shewed that its owner had 
 been long dead. I suppose he died soon after the 
 date of his paper ; for, I observed, that many prior 
 dates had been struck out ; and had he lived after 
 the year 1701, he would, in all probability, have 
 razed that likewise, and set down 1702. Some 
 sudden sickness must have seized him ; and perhaps, 
 when he found himself sinking, he laid himself out 
 naked on the wooden couch where I found his skele- 
 ton. I can no otherwise account for his having no 
 kind of covering over him. As to his bones being
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 323 
 
 SO clean, that to be sure was performed by the ants. 
 I took notice of many nests here of the larger ants, 
 in holes under the roots of great trees. 
 
 That the pismires are the best preparers of a 
 skeleton is not only certain from the account the 
 missionaries give of the coming on of the ants in 
 Pegu ; when in one night's time, the vast swarms of 
 them that approach, reduce every human creature 
 they can fasten on to clean bones ; which makes the 
 people set fire to their habitations, when they have 
 notice given them by a kind of small monkey they 
 keep for the purpose of the motion of this terrible 
 enemy ; but it is plain from what I have often ex- 
 perimented. 
 
 When I want to make a skeleton of any small 
 animal, I put the dead creature in a box with holes 
 in it among the ants, in their habitations, or nests, 
 or in such parts of the house as a whole tribe will 
 often march to, through several rooms, in one track 
 or certain road, to eat sugar or sweetmeats they 
 have discovered, and then in two or three days, 
 they will perform what the finest knife cannot exe- 
 cute. The biff ants which are larger than a com- 
 mon house fly, and are seldom less than six thou- 
 sand in a nest, will clear the bones of a rat in half 
 a night's time. 
 
 There was a pretty little wooden summer-house
 
 324 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in the centre of the garden, and in it had been in 
 pots some curious plants and flowers. Here were 
 various tools, and many instruments of gardening. 
 It appeared from them, and the great variety of 
 things in the ground, that Orton must have used 
 himself to hard labour, and found great pleasure in 
 his improvements and productions. There was a 
 deal of art and ingenuity to be traced in the wild 
 wilderness the garden was grown into. It was 
 plain from a book, called The Carthusian Gardener, 
 which lay on a table in the summer-house, that he 
 had made that business his study. Round this 
 summer-house were the remains of many hives on 
 benches, but the bees were all gone, and the stock 
 ruined. 
 
 All these things, and the place, set me a think- 
 ing, and soon suggested to my fancy, that in my 
 condition, I could not do better than succeed Or- 
 ton on the premises; but, without turning hermit. 
 Here is, I said, a pretty small thatched mansion, that 
 might easily be enlarged, if more rooms were want- 
 ing; and a garden, which labour would soon re- 
 store to its usefulness and beauty, and make it pro- 
 duce the best vegetables in plenty. Here is fish in 
 the waters, fowl of every kind, and deer on the 
 mountains. Here are goats in great herds, for 
 milk, for kids, and when cut, for excellent venison.
 
 JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 325 
 
 Here is the finest water, and by getting bees, as 
 Orton had, meath may be made that will be equal 
 to the best foreign wine. As to the situation, it is 
 most delightful. Nothing can be more charming 
 than these shores and breaking waters, the rocky 
 precipices and the woody hills, which surround this 
 little region. What then should hinder but that I 
 here sit down, and put an end to my adventures; 
 as the few things that are wanting may be had at 
 the next town, and a stock for years be in a few 
 days secured ? The man I am looking for may 
 never be found ; and if I should meet with him, his 
 circumstances and temper may be changed : then, 
 as to the world, I know not how to deal in any kind 
 of business; and to live on the small fortune in my 
 possession, must reduce me to poverty very soon. 
 Here then it is good for me to reside, and make my- 
 self as happy as I can, if it be not in my power to 
 be as happy as I would. I have two lads with me, 
 who are active, useful young men, willing to work, 
 and pleased to stay Avherever I am ; and if I can 
 commence a matrimonial relation with some sen- 
 sible, good-humoured, dear delightful girl of the 
 mountains, and persuade her to be the cheerful 
 partner of my still life, nature and reason will 
 create the highest scenes of felicity, and we shall 
 live as it were in the suburbs of heaven. My lads
 
 316 THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNCLE, ESQ. 
 
 too may pick up among the hills, upon scripture 
 principles, two bouncing females : and a state will 
 in a little time be formed. This is fine. For once 
 in my life I am fortunate. And suppose this part- 
 ner I want in my solitude could be Miss Melmoth, 
 one of the wisest and most discreet of women ; a 
 thinking bloom, and good-humour itself in a hu- 
 man figure ; then indeed I must be happy in this 
 silent, romantic station. This spot of earth would 
 then have all the felicities. Resolved. * Conclusum 
 est contra Manicheos,' said the great St. Austin, 
 and with a thump of his fist, he cracked the table. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 t. white, prinieu, 
 Johnson's court, fleet street,