practice of what he knew to be his duty, was a very great and constant support to him.

He also had the satisfaction to see, that all his children joined with him heartily, and seemed to rejoice in the measures he had taken for the order and regularity of the house; and the eldest daughter, a good, sober, and well-inclined child, would often say to him, dear father, persuade my mother to come down to prayers.

He would be very cautious of saying any thing to the cbild that seemed to reflect on her mother; but one day the child saying so to him, he answered, my dear, I am am very sorry your mother does not come down, do you persuade her to it, I should be very glad to have her

come.

Said the daughter, shall I go and tell her you sent me to desire her to come?

Ay do, my dear, said he, with all my heart.

The child went, and when her father asked her what ber mother said, she could not answer him, but broke out into tears; her father understood it.

Well, my dear, said her father, don't let it trouble thee, I see how it is, we must wait God's time.

He failed not to take all opportunities to speak to her himself after this, but found his wife had taken a new method; for as before she would always answer him with something very ill-natured and unkind, so now, though she were ever so free in discourse of other things, yet, when he began to speak of this affair, she would not answer one word.

These things continued about three quarters of a year, and far from abating by length of time, as family heats between husband and wife ordinarily do; on the contrary, they took root like a strong distemper, by the length of their duration.

At length his wife was taken ill; the man was exceedingly afflicted at his wife's sickness, and especially as he saw some danger of death; and it almost distracted his

thoughts, to think she should die without being reconciled to him. Her distemper at first appeared a kind of lethargic fever, which, as it preyed upon her spirits one way, and brought her very low, so it kept her dozing, and incapable to be talked with, another way.

He often attempted to speak to her, but found she would not answer a word; or, if she did, it was either to desire him not to trouble her, or something remote from what he said; for she was too much stupified by the distemper to talk, and unwilling to discourse when she was otherwise.

The distemper, however, in about three weeks time abated, and she began to get strength, but no life came into her temper, no cheerfulness into her spirits; but a deep melancholy seemed to succeed the fever; and one morning the physician that attended her came to her husband, and asked him if he knew any extraordinary trouble she had upon her spirits? Her husband said no, no extraordinary one: but why do you ask me that question? says he, with great concern. Why, says the doctor, because 1 fear she has a little spice of disorder in her head; and if we do not prevent it, she will be in danger of a confirmed melancholy.

It is impossible to express the concern this gave him, and he began to enter into a serious consultation with the doctor, who had spoken cautiously, because he would not surprise him; but the apothecary came down immediately after, and with less prudence said aloud to the doctor, who asked how she did-Do, says, he, why she is mad, quite distracted, we must get some help immediately to tie her in the bed.

Her husband, who had by the prudence of the doctor entertained. only an apprehension of the danger of such a thing as remote, and possible to be prevented, when he heard what the apothecary said, spoke not a word, but sunk down on the floor.

8

The physician being at hand, they were not much at a loss for applying proper remedies; but it was so long ere

they recovered him, that the doctor himself was once of opinion that he was dead, and was going out of the room; but some signs of life appearing soon after, they went on with their applications, and opening a vein, the blood flowing, recovered him to life, but left him very ill, which was followed by a fever, and that threw him into the small-pox, and from which he did not recover without great danger of his life.

There was a sad family, we may be sure, while the master and mistress of the family remained in these circumstances: but, however, the husband recovered with the help of time; but the wife grew worse, till he was obliged to have her removed out of the house for a time; and as it is allowed that a melancholy lunacy is the hardest to cure, so indeed they found it here, for she lay above a year under the hands of the physician, without much appearance of alteration, except at intervals, scarce knowing, or at least not noticing, her own children or husband.

It was observable, that during her distemper she was always reading the Bible and religious books, but would never talk with any body otherwise than of common things, and, during the whole time, was never heard so much as once to mention the breach with her husband: nay, when she was thought well enough to go home again, it appeared she had forgot it as perfectly as if she had never known any thing of it; nor had she forgotten that only, but even her family and common things. Her husband having removed to another dwelling, she did not so much as know that it was not the same house she had lived in before; she knew her husband and children, indeed, but did not know any of the servants, no, not enough to distinguish who had been before her illness, or who had come after.

This filled her husband with dreadful apprehensions that her distemper was not removed; but as he communicated his fears to the physician, he said it was a sign that it would entirely remove at last; but she continued a long time in but a very indifferent condition, much altered in her tem.

per, and often subject to little returns of melancholy; but in her family she lived orderly, and kept in a very good disposition as to the religious part. If she had any remembrances of the former breach, she kept it to herself; for she never discovered that she retained any notion of it in her thoughts. She attended duly on the orders of the family, appeared very serious at the times of worship, and never offered to dislike or reflect upon, much less to mock or scoff at, her husband about it in the least.

Her children were warned by their father never to endeavour to put her in mind of former differences; no, not se much as in curiosity to try whether she really remembered any thing or not; which orders they very punctually observed.

It was not long after this, when the country gentleman, whose story makes a part in the former dialogue, came to town; and as their cases were so exactly alike when they had last discoursed upon the subjects of their family circumstances, so they had kept up a constant correspondence by letters; but now at their meeting they enter into particulars more at large, which, as near as possible, is contained in the following discourse.

The citizen began with him thus:

Cit. Well, my friend, I took your advice, but I have had a dreadful task of it.

Fr. What advice?

Cit. Why about taking a resolution to set up, or rather restore, family-worship in my house, in spite of all the scoffs and jeers, flouts and taunts, of an unkind wife; but it has cost me very dear.

Fr. I hope the purchase is worth the price. I dare say, let it have cost you what it will, 'twill pay you all again; it will yield a plentiful rent or interest, if you maintain it; for, as the northern proverb says, "God comes into no man's house to bilk the landlord:" you will find a blessing in it, no doubt.

Cit. I have had a hard task of it, but I have got the better at last.

Fr. Pray let me hear it again; for though your letters have let me into the heads of it, yet you must let me have the story at length. I hope the relation will be a comfort, not an affliction to you.

Cit. You shall, with all my heart.

[Here the citizen tells him the whole story, word for word, as it is in the dialogue past.]

His friend listened to the relation with great attention, and was particularly pleased with the success which he had with his children; but was extremely affected with the tragical part about his wife; indeed it brought tears into his eyes, and the more from she sense he had how much more comfortable an issue he had had on his own side.

My dear friend, says he, you have had an afflicting part, indeed, with respect to your wife; but you are not yet without hope that she may be wholly restored to you again, and you have the present comfort of seeing her disposition altered.

Cit. That is true, but it would have been a greater comfort to me to have known that she had been made truly sensible of the sin of her former conduct, that she had repented heartily of it, and that she had received comfort in the hope of forgiveness.

Fr. Well, though you may think that wanting, yet you cannot judge her not to have been a penitent, because you cannot tell what intervals for conviction she might have had, either before, in, or after her distraction.

Cit. That is true; but as I saw no signs of it, I have room to fear, and that's a continual affliction.

Fr. Well, but what shall we say as to her being made incapable by being deprived of the use of reason; 'tis hard to determine what shall be expected of such; we must judge with charity.

Cit. I have seriously digested that part in my thoughts;