time before he would own where he spent his time; and now he has told me I have no account of what he has been about, or what his business was there, at those unseasonable hours.

Fath. This is the very thing I complain of.

Mast. Why, how shall I help it; what would you have me do?

Fath. Do! I would have you act like a master, and oblige him to do as becomes a servant, viz. give you an exact account of his behaviour. His time is your's, and you ought to know how he spends it. If any of his time is employed out of your business, you ought to exact an account of it from him, how it has been disposed of, as much as you would of money that you had trusted himn with, how he paid it.

Mast. I thought this more your work than mine.

Fath. If he was your own son, and my apprentice, I should think so too; but as it is, as I said before, his time is not mine, nor his own, but your's; and it is to you he is to give an account of it.

Mast. But pray, why do you put it off from yourself' You know I have a great hurry of business, and cannot have time, and he will be more in awe of you than of me. I think it is much better for you.

Fath. I am very far from putting it off from myself. J shall concur with you most readily in the strictest examination into his behaviour. But I am surprised to hear you put it off from yourself, as if you were not concerned in it; and by which, if his courses are evil, as you suggest, he may be ruined at any time, and I may know nothing of it; and you must allow that this ought to give me some concern as a father, whatever it does to you as a

master.

Mast. I am something of your mind now, as to its being my duty to my servants, though, as I am circumstanced, I do not see how I can perform it.

Fath. If God gives you a sense of its being your duty

I leave the sense of, your living in the neglect of it to. his mercy, who, I hope, will open your eyes to the necessity of performing it. It is a sad thing to be in such a circumstance as renders what is your known duty impracticable tʊ you.

Mast. What can I do?

Fath. That is for you to consider, not me. If you are convinced of what you ought to do, I have spent my time well enough.

Mast. But what would you have me to do with your son?

Fath. Do! act the master with him, and command him to give you an exact account of the time you charge him with, where he has spent it, in what company, and about, what business.

Mast. If I do he will refuse it, and desire me to dismiss him; he has said as much as that already, which I took very ill from him.

Fath. What must be the occasion of that?

Mast. Why, it has been observed by all the house, as well as by me, that he has been very melancholy and discontented a great while, and I very kindly asked him the reason, but he declined to tell me. I asked him if he disliked the trade? he said, no; if he disliked his master, no. I told him, if he was uneasy at any thing, though he was bound, I would release him; for I would not keep him against his inclination. At this he seemed pleased, and mighty desirous to go. Now, what can I do? Ifl challenge him with his going out, and pretend to demand a strict account of his time, and he refuses, what can I do, but threaten to turn him away? And that, it seems, he desires; and yet he will not tell me the reason of it, neither, which does not show him to have much good nature, or good manners. Indeed, I took it so ill, that, but in respect to you, I had sent him home that very minute. And now I have told you of it, what would you have me do?.

Fath. I have said what I would have you do, viz. act the master with him, and tell him in plain terms, you will have an account of his behaviour; you may be sure he shall get nothing by complaining to me, if his case be bad; and if he refuses positively, as I believe he will not, we will inquire of your neighbour, Mr., for he has the character of a very good man; perhaps he may find it out for us.

Mast. I know Mr. is a very pious, religious good man, and his wife is a very religious woman; and it is indeed a very sober family, which makes me wonder what the boy can be doing there, which he is so earnest to conceal; if you will, I'll go aud inquire of him first.

Fath. No, I think you had better talk with the boy first. I am persuaded he will submit to you, and, I hope, tell you the truth; and if that truth be to your satisfaction, you will be better pleased to have it from the boy, than to make it more public.

Mast. Well, I will have another dialogue with him tomorrow, and you shall hear what will be the issue.

[The father goes away, and the youth coming to the door with him, the father says thus:]

Fath. Thomas, it seems your master has been talking with you about this matter.

Son. Yes, Sir.

Fath. He is very angry, and takes it very ill you should refuse to give an account of yourself, and where you used to be, when you went out in the morning and evening.

Son. I did tell him where I was, and assured him 1 was no where else.

Fath. But it was a long time before you would tell him that.

Son. I was so afraid he would inquire what my business was there, that I could not think of telling him.

Fath. Why, you must tell him still, child; for he is

mighty earnest to know what you are there so much for; he imagines it is some wicked thing, by your being afraid to tell him. I hope the account you gave me of it is true.

Son. Dear father, I hope you do not doubt its being true, I never used to tell you an untruth.

Fath. No, child, I do not doubt of its being true; and why then should you be afraid to tell him of it?

Son. I am more ashamed than afraid to tell him of it. I think it does not become me to make my master blush at bimself.

Fath. But here is a necessity now, so that I do not see you can avoid it, let him take it how he will; for it passes in the family that you have some ill correspondence, or some bad company there, and they will make a great deal of it, if you are so backward to give an account of it; and, therefore, to clear up your own reputation, you must tell your master.

Son. I would rather you would do it for me, Sir, I am not fit to talk to my master about such things..

Fath. I have prepared the way, by a long dispute with your master about his duty to his servants: and I am persuaded, let what you say be never so coarse or boyish, God will bless it, so as to carry conviction along with it, that he has not done his duty to you, whatever you have done to him.

Son. I can say nothing to him of that, Sir, he will fly out in a rage at me.

Fath. No, no, you are only to answer his questions, and give an account of yourself, and of the reason why you go over to the clothier's house every morning and evening: you can do that easily enough, let the will of God be done in what shall follow, one way or other.

Son. I will do as you order me, Sir, as well as I can. [The father leaves him, and the boy going in, his master calls him.]

Mast. Thomas, come hither.

P

Tom. Yes, Sir.

Mast. Well, I have given your father an account of your behaviour, and he is very much concerned, as well as I, about it.

Tom. I am sorry for it, Sir.

Mast. Well, but that is not enough; your father and I too are resolved to find out the bottom of it, if you will not confess ingenuously.

Tom. Sir, you speak of it as if I was guilty of some strange thing; I hope I have committed no crime, Sir.

Mast. It may be very well, if it appear so, Sir: however, our suspicions are justified by your being so very careful to conceal yourself: this has made me resolve to examine into it; and you might save me that labour, as I told you, by an ingenuous confession.

Tom. I never declined it, Sir.

Mast. No! Did I not press you to it before, and you declined it, and your father's coming prevented, or else, I suppose, I had a flat denial? 1

Tom. I never denied to obey any of your commands, Sir, in my life,-I only told you that I was backward, because I feared it might displease you: but I little thought it should be suggested that my being abroad was for any thing criminal.

Mast. How could you expect any other?

Tom. Because, being perfectly innocent, I had no thought of being suspected.

Mast. Clear up all then, Thomas, by ingenuously giving an account of yourself to me now.

Tom. Be pleased, Sir, to tell me what part you mean? whether as to my being abroad, or my being discontented; for you charged me with both?

Mast. Begin first with your being abroad. You say you were only at my neighbour's, over the way; I have not examined into it yet, but I take it for granted that you speak truth.

Tom. Indeed, Sir, I was no where but there.