Tom. For the Lord's sake, Will, do not talk so. [Thomas starts as if he was affrighted.]

Will. What do you mean?

Tom. Talk! why you talk

What do I talk? blasphemy almost; you

have been dreadfully educated, Will. Pr'ythee what is your father? Is he a Protestant?

Will. Talk blasphemy! what do you mean, Tom? What did I say?

Tom. Say! why I am afraid to repeat what you said.

[Tom looks earnestly upon him, and upon the ground about him.]

Will. What makes you look at me so, brother? you look as if you were scared. What ails you?

Tom. Truly, Will, you have terrified me. I was looking at you, to see if you did not begin to look pale, and stagger; for I wonder God did not strike you dead when you talked so horridly.

Will. And what did you look about on the ground for? Tom. To see whether it did not begin to cleave and part; for I expected every moment it should open, and swallow you up.

Will. You fool you, what do you mean?

Tom. Indeed I should have expected all that, if I had said so.

[Mark the tenderness of the child that was religiously educated.]

Will. What did I say, that you make such a stir about it?

Tom. Truly, Will, I wish you could consider a little yourself what you said, or, at least, what you meant when you said your father knew better than to pray to God; and that after your father had broke his thigh, and was well again, there was no need of praying to God. Are not these dreadful words, Will?

Will. No, I think not; what harm is there in them? I thought no harm, not I.

Tom. But are you in earnest, Will, when you say your father never prays to God?

Will. Nay, Tom, I did not say, never; I told you he went to church on Sundays.

Tom. Well, but never else, never at home; never called his family to prayer, as your master, you say, does?

Will. No, never in his life, that ever I heard of.

Tom. Why, what is your father? Is he a heathen or a Christian? Is he a Papist or a Protestant?

Will. My father a heathen! No, I think not: he is as good a Christian as any of our neighbours.

Tom. Aye, that's strange. I thought there had been no Christians lived so, Will. Is he a Protestant or a Papist?

Will. Why, a Protestant; what should he be? Do you think my father a Papist? No, indeed; my father is as good a Protestant as any of you. Did not I tell you he went to church every Sunday? Nay, sometimes, especially when it is bad weather, he goes to the meeting-house, because the church is a good way off.

Tom. Will, Will, I never heard the like, or saw the like, till I came to my master. I thank God I have not been bred up among such Christians, or among such Protestants. I thought there had been no such Protestants in the world. Nay, there is a Papist family lives next door to my father's, and they are constantly, morning and evening, and often at other times of the day too, at their worship and prayers, serving God in their ways. Nay, I have heard that the Turks say their prayers five times aday. Why, it is natural to pray to God, Will, did he not make us?

Will. I can't dispute, not I. What do you call serving God? Is not going to church serving God? I told you my father went every Sunday to church. I think that is serving God, is'nt it? And he may say his prayers at home too for aught I know. I suppose he does not tell fólks when he does that, as my master does, who makes all the house hear of it.

Tom. But, brother Will, thou talkest as if thou hadst been bred a heathen, and not a Protestant. Pr'ythee, Will, didst thou ever read the Bible?

Will. Yes, I learned to read it at school.

Tom. Was that all? Did you never read at home? What, have you never a Bible in the house?

Will. Yes, we have a great Bible in the parlour window. Tom. What, does nobody use it?

Will. Yes, my mother reads on it sometimes, and my father sets down how old his children are in it. the time when we were all born.

There's

Tom. But were you never used to be bidden to read in it by your father or mother?

Will. Yes, my mother would sometimes call me from play, to come and read my book; but I would not come, I loved my play too well for that.

Tom. What, would you not come?

Will. No, not I.

Tom. What, not when your mother called you?

Will. Mother! no, what cared I for my mother?

Tom. I never heard the like in my life; why, 'tis a sign you never read the Bible.

Will. Why, what if I had?

Tom. Why, there you would have read, "Cursed be he that setteth light by his father or his mother," Deut. xxvii. 16. Besides, Will, cannot you say the ten commandments?

Will. Yes, I think I can.

Tom. Well, and don't you remember the fifth commandment-" Honour thy father and thy mother!"

Will. Why, what's that to my going to play?

Tom. But it was something your refusing to come and read your book when your mother called you.

Will. What signified that? I knew my mother was not angry. She did not much trouble her head whether I came to read or not.

Tom. So indeed it is plain, as you said, that neither your father nor your mother troubled their head about you,

whether you served God or not. I do not wonder that you think it so troublesome that your master goes to prayers, and serves God in his family, I wonder how you, that have been bred so wickedly, came to be put out to so religious a family, as your master's is!

Will. Why, I heard my father say once, before I came to my master, that he was the willinger to put me to him, because he was a good man, and I might learn good things there; for I had never learned any at home.

Tom. So that your father owns then, Will, that these are good things, though he does not practise them himself. That is very strange, Will.

Will. Yes, yes, my father used to say he loved my master, because he was a good man, that he was a man that kept good order in his family; and one day he told me, that if I was a good boy, and followed my master's advice, I should be made a good man, better than ever my father was; and that my master went to prayers, and served God, and such as that: but I knew nothing what he meant. If I had known how it was, I should never have come.

Tom. Why, you own, that though your father did not call you to prayers himself, he liked your master the better because he did. Why should not you too?

Will. Not I, I love to live as I have been bred.

Tom. But you see your father owned that your master was a better Christian than himself; and that the orders he kept in his family was the way to make you a good man, nay, to make you better than your father too. Methinks you should believe your father.

Will. I don't know as to that; but I don't like it, not I.

Tom. You are not then for being made a good man, or else you don't believe your father.

Will. I don't see how he'll make me any better than I am. I tell you, I don't like it at all. I dare say you would not like it neither.

Tom. Would I not. I wish I was to be tried, Will.

Will. I wish you were, I am sure you would be sick of it.

Tom. Why now, brother Will, that cannot be; for my grievance is just the contrary to your's; for I have been the uneasiest boy alive. I have got a master that lives exactly like your father.

Will. My father! alas, my father is but an ordinary man, your master is an alderman.

Tom. I mean as to religion, Will; 'tis true, my master goes to the meeting-house, and my mistress goes to church, and they serve God there after their own way; and we have nothing of swearing, cursing, or drunkenness in the house, or such as that, I must do them that justice. But as to religion, I never heard a word of it in the house since I came to it.

Will. Well, now, and yet every body says your master is a very good man.

Tom. That may be.

Will. Why then, brother, you see you were mistaken before, when you fancied a man could not be a good man, without making such a pother about his praying and religion, as my master does. I do not see that my master is one jot a better man than your's.

Tom. Nay, Will, it was not I that was mistaken, it was your own father that was mistaken, who, you acknowledge, told you he loved your master, because he was a good man, and that you might learn good things there; and that if you followed your master's advice, you would be a good man too, and a better man than your father. He must be mistaken in all that, Will.

Will. Well, but I a'nt talking of my father. They may be any of them better than my father, he knows that bimself: but I speak of your master; every body says he is a good man, and a religious man, and he has the best reputation in the town.

Tom. Ay, Will, he is an honest man, a very fair man, he does nobody any wrong; but I have never been bred