Serv. If you won't go, madam, I doubt they will come to you.

1 Sist. Go and deliver your message.

2 Sist. And are you so resolute against yourself, sister? Can nothing persuade you to your own good? Certainly you will be wiser.

1 Sist. What would you have me do, what is the matter with 'you all?

2 Sist. Nay, sister, I am not fit to give you advice, who are my eldest sister: but methinks you do not want advice to go down to your father, when you are sent for.

1 Sist. I won't.

2 Sist. What shall I say to them? I dare not say you won't, for your own sake.

1 Sist. Tell them I an't well, can't you? that I am upon the bed, and have shut my door, and won't be spoke with. Tell them any thing. Don't you see I am not fit to be spoke

to?

2 Sist. As the maid said, I am certain they'll come up to you, for they know your distemper. I would fain have you go down. I dare say you will be treated very tenderly and kindly, perhaps better than you can expect, especially you do not force them to treat you ill.

if

1 Sist. Yes, after they have burnt all my books,-robbed me of what they knew was my delight,-refused me the liberty of going abroad, and given me a blow on the face for nothing, now they'll treat me kindly, will they? I desire none of their kindness. I won't go.

2 Sist. Well, sister, then they must wait upon you, I suppose.

1 Sist. If they do, I will not speak to them, nor open the door.

[She cries vehemently.]

2 Sist. I hope you will alter your mind, I'll leave you to think of it.

[The second sister withdraws, and the other claps the door after her.]

This dialogue needs no observation, save on the different tempers between children, dutifully submitting to family government, and affectionately complying with their parents' just desires; and, on the other hand, children, obstinately adhering to the dictates of their passions. And this will appear to every common reader. Besides, much of this first part being historical, and the family known, I forbear further observations on the particular conduct of the persons. The design of this work being rather to instruct other families, than to reproach those who may think themselves concerned, the author leaves these dialogues, therefore, without particular remarks, and leaves room for abler hands to annotate upon them hereafter, when the persons concerned may be gone off the stage; and then it may appear as a general reproach to those that are guilty, rather than a particular satire upon persons or families, and this he conceives will also tend more to the usefulness of the work.

THE FIFTH DIALOGUE.

The last dialogue is a kind of sketch or draught of the whole family we are speaking of. The eldest son and daughter, as their father and mother had suggested, being grown up in the long allowed course of looseness of behaviour, all manner of liberties having been given them, without any family restraint, without government, and rather encouraged by their parents than limited either by example or command, proved, as might well be expected, very obstinate and refractory; especially the daughter, who being hot and insolent, her mother, at the first attempt, was so provoked, as to use her somewhat roughly. The other children, who were grown up, being also a son and a daughter, are not only brought to submit to the reformation proposed by their parents, but embrace it with willingness and

cheerfulness, and make their duty their choice, to the great satisfaction of their parents.

The following dialogue is between the father and mother, with their sons and daughters respectively, and apart, which are the same that are referred to in the former dis

courses.

The mother, it seems, began with their eldest daughter upon something in her behaviour about breaking the Sabbath, and this, by the imprudence of the daughter, ended rougher than she (the mother) designed it.

The father began with the second son, and finding him very tractable, proceeded to the eldest son, but met with great difficulties and discouragements in him.

The mother found the second daughter sensibly affected with her discourse, and cheerfully willing to submit to her instructions; which was a great comfort to her, and encou raged her to deal the better with her obstinate sister.

་

The other children were younger, and rather to be governed by authority than persuasion. The dialogue with the eldest daughter began thus. After sermon, every Lord'sday, it had been their custom to walk abroad, to go to the park, or a visiting, and so to wear off the evening, and then come home to supper. But the case being now altered, the father had let the servants know they must all stay at home; and had told his younger son, with whom he had discoursed in the morning, that he would have no more going to the park on the Lord's-day. But the daughter had not yet heard of it, nor the eldest son, or, if they had, they did not believe their father was in earnest; so that, according to their usual custom, they were preparing to go abroad, and the son had bid their coachman get ready to carry them out. The mother perceiving the daughter to be putting on her gloves, calls to her thus:

Moth. What are you dressing for, child?

Daugh. To go to the park, madam.

Moth. I would not have you go to-night, my dear.
Daugh. Why, madam?

Moth. I have a reason which I had rather tell ther time.

you ano

[Note. The mother having designed to have a serious discourse with her daughter, did not think fit to enter into particulars now, but her daughter's carriage forced her to it.]

Daugh. I must go, madam, I have appointed company. Moth. Well, however, disappoint them for once, at my desire.

Daugh. 'Tis impossible, madam, I can't do it.

Moth. O, the impossibility is not so very great as you make it. I warrant you, you can excuse it.

Daugh. I never did such a thing in my life: 'tis rude, madam, to the last degree. I cannot look my Lady Lighthead in the face.

Moth. Lay the fault on me, my dear, I'll bear the blame.

Daugh. I'll even lay the fault on nobody, nor ask any body's pardon, but go myself.

Moth. I wonder, child, you should force me to the necessity of telling you, that you must not go.

Daugh. Why, madam, I must go; I can't put it off. Moth. But I tell you, mistress, since you will be put off no other way, you shall not go.

Daugh. Shan't I?

Moth. No, you shan't.

Daugh. But I will go.

Moth. I never thought to have had such language as that from you, daughter, and I assure you I shall not take much of it.

Daugh. Why should I not go out then, as well now as

at another time?

Moth. Why, daughter, since I must come to particulars with you, I assure you, that you shall not only not go to the park to day, but never any more on a Sabbath-day, as long as I have the troublesome office of being your mother. Daugh. What have I done to be used so?

Moth. Nothing more than the rest, nor was I blaming you: but you have been all guilty of profaning the Lord'sday; and to the best of my power you shall do it no

more.

Daugh. Why, han't you don't it yourself? and have you not gone always with us?

Moth. Though that is very unnatural and unmannerly in you to reproach me with it; yet I confess, it is but too just, and I deserve it; however, I pray God forgive me, that I have done it, and especially, that I have let you all do it. Well may you upbraid me with it; and I desire to be ashamed, that you have had my example to encourage you to it: but it is the more my duty to reform it, and I expect your compliance with the more willingness.

Daugh. I see no harm in it, not I.

Moth. What, not on the Lord's-day?

Daugh. No, when sermon is over, and church is done. Moth. Why, does not the commandment say-" Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy, therefore God blessed the Sabbath-day, and hallowed it?"

Daugh. Why, don't I keep it holy enough? Don't I go to church every Sunday?

Moth. Well, and do you think that the Sabbath-day is over when you have been at church?

Daugh. Over! Why, what would you have us do after, we have been at church?

Moth. I shall take a time to let you know, what is your duty on the rest of the day: but I did not design to talk of that now, nor of this neither, if you had not moved to it by your undutiful language.

Daugh. I don't trouble myself about it.

[Here the daughter turns away, and with a kind of humming low voice sings the tune of a new play-house song.]

Moth. Unsufferable insolence! Have I been telling you of the command of God to keep holy the Sabbath-day, and of my resolution to do it myself, and to cause you to do it,