As an historian, it will be found, that our Author had few equals in the English language, when he wrote. His Memoirs of a Cavalier shew how well he could execute the lighter narratives. His History of the Union evinces. that he was equal to the higher department of historic composition. This is an account, of a single event, difficult indeed in its execution, but benefical certainly in its consequences. With extraordinary skill and information, our Author relates, not only the event, but the transactions which preceded, and the effects which followed. He is at once learned and intelligent. Considering the factiousness of the age, his candour is admirable. His moderation is exemplary. And if he spoke of James I. as a tyrant, he only exercised the prerogative, which our historians formerly enjoyed, of casting obloquy on au unfortunate race, in order to supply deficience of knowledge, of elegance, and of stile. In this instance De Foe allowed his prejudice to overpower his philosophy. If the language of his narrative want the dignity of the great historians of the current times, it has greater facility; if it be not always grammatical, it is generally precise; and if it be thought defective in strength, it must be allowed to excel in sweetness.

THE

Family Instructor.

PART I.

THE INTRODUCTION.

ATECHISING of children, and instructing them in

CATE

the principles of the Christian religion, has been a practice in the church as antient as religion itself; and, besides the nature of the thing which requires it, was deduced from that strict injunction laid upon the children of Israel, Deut. vi. 7. " And thou shalt teach them diligently to thy children;" speaking of the laws and statutes which God then commanded Moses; and again, Deut. iv. 19. "But teach them to thy sons, and thy sons' sons."

It is not the design of this undertaking to give a list of authorities in Scripture for catechising and instructing of children, or the commendations and testimonies given there to those who did instruct their children in the knowledge and practice of religion. That eminent text is sufficient to this, being the blessed character given to Abraham from God himself: "I know Abraham (says the Lord, Gen. xviii. 19,) that he will command his children, and his household after him," &c.

But we live in an age that does not want so much to know their duty, as to practise it; not so much to be taught, as to be made obedient to what they have already learned; and therefore I shall take up no time in proving this matter to be a duty; there is hardly a wretch so hardened, but will readily acknowledge it. But we are, I say, arrived at a time in which men will frankly own a thing to be their duty which at the same time they dare omit the

B

practice of: and innumerable arts, shifts, and turns, they find out to make that omission easy to themselves, and ex-、 cusable to others.

One part of this work is pointed at such, if possible, to make them blush at their unaccountable rashness, and to shame them out of such a sordid inconsistent course, as that of living in the allowed omission of what they acknowledge to be their duty.

The way I have taken for this is entirely new, and at first perhaps it may appear something odd, and the method may be contemned. But let such blame their own more irregular tempers, that must have every thing turned into new models, must be touched with novelty, and have their fancies humoured with the dress of a thing; so that if it be what has been said over and over a thousand times, yet if it has but a different coloured coat, or a new feather in its cap, it pleases and wins upon them; whereas the same truths, written in the divinest style in the world, would be flat, stale, and unpleasant, without it.

If, then, after all the pains which have been taken by ministerial labour and instruction, and by the pressing exhortation and moving arguments of eminent divines, even of all opinions, in their writings on this subject, this mean and familiar method should by its novelty prevail, this will be a happy undertaking, and at the same time be no reproach at all to the labours of others.

In the pursuit of this book, care is taken to avoid distinction of opinions as to the church of England, or Dissenters; and no offence can be taken here either on the one side or the other. As I hope both are Christians, so both are treated here as such; and the advice impartially directed to both, without the least distinction.

If those who call themselves Christians and Protestants will not instruct their children and servants, here they will find their children and servants instructing them, and reproving them too; and both they and their children may here meet with instructions together.

The father represented here, appears knowing enough; but seems to be one of those professing Christians who acknowledge God in their mouths, yet take no effecual care to honour him with their practice; that live in a round of religion, as a thing of course; have not the power of godliness, nor much of the form; a kind of negative Christian, a God-I-thank-thee Pharisee; sound in knowledge, but negligent in conversation; orthodox in opinion, but heterodox in practice. And that I have found out such a person, is to signify, that let him be where he will, and who he will, this work is calculated to reprove and admonish him.

The mother here represented, is likewise a formal, loose living Christian, a Protestant professor of religion without the practice of it; but yet she is a professor, one that knows how to talk of religion, and makes a show to belong to it. But, alas, for the rest! the consequence will appear in the book, in which I doubt a great many may see their own pictures drawn. May the sight of it have the same healing, convincing efficacy as appears upon the persons here, whose story is therefore brought for an example to them.

May they see it, and blush, like the father here mentioned; like him, may they be ashamed of their likeness: may they see it, and, like him, effectually reform the dreadful practice. This would completely answer the end and the design of the author of this book, and rejoice the hearts of all serious Christians in the nation.

The child who is here made the inquirer, has no questions put into his mouth but what are natural and rational, consistent with principle, and, as near as could be, are such as are proper even to a child: none but what the author wishes every body would put seriously to themselves as often as they look about them in the world, and none but what even a child is capable to inquire into. The author has endeavoured to produce the questions with an air of mere nature, innocence, and childhood; yet such as, being

naturally adapted to the general state of things, may be apposite and direct: such as being the mere product of the most common reasonings, and even the understandings of children, a child's understanding may justly be supposed to have proposed them.

Though much of the story is historical, and might be made appear to be true in fact; yet the author, resolving not to give the least hint that should lead to persons, has been obliged to leave it uncertain to the reader, whether it be a history or a parable; believing it may be either way adapted to the sincere design; which is (1) to reprove those parents who neglect the instruction of their children; and (2) to direct young persons in their first reflections, guiding them to inquire about themselves, their original, their state, their progress in this world, the reason of their being born into it, their passing out of it, and, which is the main cogitation, their condition beyond it.

The method is new, as is said above, but perhaps may be the more pleasing. Any thing, or any method, if we may but bring the main end to pass, viz. to bring young and old to set earnestly and heartily about the great work of serving, glorifying, and obeying the God that made them.

The child is supposed to come up to such years as to be thinking and inquiring, suppose about five or six years old; and as nature is always prompting the soul to be searching after something which it did not know before, so that inquisitive temper is in some sedater than in others. However, our little child asks but very little of his father but what a child of that age may be very capable of asking.

The scene of this little action is not laid very remote, or the circumstances obscure. The father, walking in a field behind his garden, finds one of his children wandered out, all alone, under a row or walk of trees, sitting upon a little rising ground by itself, looking about, and mighty busy, pointing this way and that way, sometimes up and sometimes down, and sometimes to itself: so that the father, coming upperceived pretty near, found the little creature