me if 1 would give her leave to go to her aunt's, meaning your house? I told her, yes, I would consent to that, if her father would agree to it. So, at her request, I asked her father to let her go to your house; and he was willing enough, in hopes your family would inure and acquaint her with good things; but he would not consent till she had promised solemnly that she would keep no company, nor go to any plays, or bring printed plays home to your house; and she promised she would not: so we sent her to you; but I dare say she will not keep her word,

Aunt. Well, she is very welcome to my house; and I assure you, as I said before, she carries herself very modestly and handsomely among us.

Moth. Nay, she is of a very good temper, and an obliging carriage enough. She wants neither wit nor manShe wants nothing, sister, but God's grace.

ners.

Aunt. All our children love her company extremely, and some of them more than I have told you of yet.

Moth. And do you think she has kept her promise with us, about plays and my lady?

Aunt. I dare say she has, as I said before; for we see nobody come near her, but her brother sometimes; and she tells us, in compliment, she is exceedingly diverted with the company of my daughters; so that she has quite left off all

conversation.

Moth. And does she conform to your family orders, sister, and appear at family-worship constantly?

Aunt. Indeed, sister, she must do it in our house, or we would not keep her there; nay, none of our children would keep her company, or endure her, if she did not; for, 1 thank God, we have no contemners of religion among us. But I must do my niece that justice, that I never perceived the least reluctancy in her to any thing that was good in life, I mean at our house; nay, sister, we have a mighty opinion of her being very sober; and you will say so too, when I tell you really what I came hither about at this

time.

my

Moth. What is that, sister?

Aunt. Why, I am come to ask her of you, and my brother, for my son.

Moth. Dear sister, we are but in a sorry circumstance, as to her, to be jested with. Your son is a pretty youth, and God may give her more grace by that time he is fit for a wife. If she is fit to deserve him, you might be sure we should not be against it; but their age would be unequal; and they are very near a-kin, sister: besides, those things are remote. I have no heart to talk of marrying her. I dare not wish any family that I have a value for to venture upon her.

Aunt. You quite mistake me, sister; it is not my own son that I mean, but my son-in-law, my husband's son. I assure you I am not in jest.

Moth. I am surprised to hear you talk so, sister.

Aunt. Well, do not be surprised; I must talk with you about it in earnest.

Moth. Dear sister, do not entertain such a thought, I am sure I can never agree to it, for your sake. You will but injure your own peace, and my brother, your husband, will think you and we are' confederate, to draw him in; besides, you know he has a good estate settled upon him; and as for this girl, she has so disobliged her father, I cannot in conscience desire him to do any thing for her, especially while she is in this state of obstinacy and rebellion. How can it be expected? Therefore, if you love your own family's peace, I would advise you seriously not to think of such a thing besides, sister, your son-in-law is a sober, virtuous, religious gentleman: you see what a mad, desperate, furious spirit this girl is of,-a professed enemy to all that is good,-one that has broke from her father, merely because he would reform her. You cannot in conscience propose such a match to a gentleman that deserve so well. I would not have a hand in making him so miscrable for the world.

Aunt. Sister, sister, you speak very honestly, and like

You take this

yourself: but you quite mistake the case. for a project of my own, to advance your daughter, and oblige you and my own family; but you are quite wrong, the young gentleman has made the motion to his father, and his father to me; so that I only came on this errand, 'tis all matter of their own choice: the young man first, and the father consented at his request.

Moth. I am amazed at it. Do they know the breach that has been among us?

Aunt. Yes, every word of it.

Moth. Dear sister, do not deceive me; I will never give my consent so much as to speak a word further about it, unless they are told the worst of it all; for I will be no cheat: they shall never say they were deceived by me, though it be for my own daughter.

Aunt. Indeed, sister, I have not deceived them; for I talked with my son-in-law two hours, and told him every word I knew of it all: neither could it be hid; for every one in our family knows it: she does not deny it herself. As I told you, she always breaks out into tears, and we don't care to grieve her; so we forbear it as sible, but she knows that we all know of it.

much as posBesides, you

will be satisfied by a reason you shall hear presently, that she has some sense of her circumstances; for that when we have talked to her of marrying, and named such a one, or such another, she would say to us, why do we talk to her of marrying, that has no fortune? and that her father will give her nothing; that she never expects he will be reconciled to her again, or do any thing for her, and the like; and then it always ends in tears, and that makes us break off the story.

Moth. Upon what foundation, then, sister, can this proposal be made to her father? It is certain, that though no family could be more agreeable to us than your's, yet it cannot be expected he should hear any thing of it, until she comes and humbles herself, and acknowledges her fault. Indeed, nobody can propose it to him before, upon any

reasonable foundation. She cannot expect her father should seek her again, who did it so unexpectedly before, and was rejected with such abominable insolence, when she did not know too but she was upon the brink of

the grave.

Aunt. I confess that was a hard case, and 1 know not what to say to it.

Moth. Besides, sister, I cannot think the young gentleman would be so mad as to think any more of her, if he knew what I have told you about her to-day; and I am resolved, if he will have her, nothing shall be hid from him that justice requires should be told.

Aunt. Indeed, sister, I bave been as faithful to him as you can be, except only what you told me just now. He does not at all justify her conduct, but says, he believes she has other principles now; and if my brother will give his consent to let him have her, he says he will come and ask pardon for her.

Moth. My husband is above in his closet; if you please, I'll call him, and hear what he says.

Aunt. With all my heart.

[She sends a servant to call her husband, and he comes immediately.]

Moth. My dear, here's an odd piece of news to be told

you.

Husb. No good, I doubted, as soon as I saw who was the messenger. Well, sister, let us know it, however, let it be as bad as it will. Pray what mad thing has my daughter done at your house?

Moth. When we fear evil, we always believe it; your fears push you too fast, my dear.

Husb. In the ordinary course of God's providence, I can expect no good to befal her; she is manifestly under the judicial hand of God, hardened to incur his curse, and to be a curse to her parents.

Aunt. God's ways are unsearchable: sometimes our falls are made the first steps to our recovery; and the very

particular sins that we commit are the introduction to our deliverance from the dominion of sin in general; therefore we cannot conclude ourselves reprobate, or any body else, till we see them past the reach of sovereign grace.

Husb. I wish as heartily for her as any one can do, that she may repent; but I cannot say that I expect it; she has gone a dreadful length for one of her age.

Aunt. She may be yet a happy convert for all that; we have instances of worse than her, that have died martyrs for him whose name they blasphemed.

Husb. If ever she returns, her repentance must be very bitter.

Aunt. He that gives repentance, always proportions the degrees of it.

Husb. But what is the account you have to give me? I doubt there is nothing of repentance in it; I expect rather to hear she is ruined.

Moth. No, no, my dear, thank God there is no bad news of her. I had the same fear for her, not doubting but her brother and she had pursued their usual trade of company, and the play-house; but my sister assures me of the contrary.

Aunt. Indeed, brother, I would have been very faithful to you if it had been so; I would not have hid it from you: besides, I would not have let her stay in my house. But the news is of another kind. Sister, pray tell it to my brother.

[The mother tells the whole story, as is before related.]

Husb. You are all mad.

Aunt. What do you mean by mad? You must explain yourself, or we shall think you are so.

Husb. I cannot but think you all mad, to go to ruin a gentleman at once. I'll have no hand in so wicked a thing.

Aunt. I have no more to do than to carry your an

swer.